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keeryhours · 2 days ago

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we are never getting back together - chapter one

Masterlist Series Masterlist Tag Lists

Eddie Munson x ex wife!reader

Summary:

You drop your kids off with your ex husband, and think back on your life together.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, birth, drinking, drug use (weed), suggestive content, divorce

Word Count: 7k

A/N:

I’m so happy to be back and posting the first chapter of this series! I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much @feral4youu for all your help, ily ❤️

“It’s my weekend.”

You rolled your eyes over the phone. “I understand that, Eddie. Believe me, you’ve said it enough times. I’m just saying-“

“You’re trying to take 3 hours away from me.”

You had a headache coming on. You pressed your manicured fingers against your temple. “I’m not trying to take anything from you. You’re being difficult on purpose.”

“Then you should schedule your shit for your own time!”

“It’s a dentist appointment, and it’s the earliest day they had!” You threw your arm up in the air as you spoke, as if he could see you. “Do you even hear yourself right now? I’m not asking for fun, she needs to go to the dentist.”

“Why can’t I take her?”

“Uh, would you remember?” you scoffed.

“That was one time.”

“Sure,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Look, Ed. It’s kinda non-negotiable. She has to go. We can meet at 6 instead of 3.”

“Whatever.” Silence, nothing but the crackling of the phone line. “Okay. Whatever. I’ll see you at 6.”

Click.

You sighed, putting the phone back down on the receiver. Eddie could seriously be such a pain in the ass. No, scratch that, not could be - he was.

You didn’t always fight like this. At one point, you were just two high school students in love - puppy love, maybe. First love, lust at first sight, whatever you wanted to call it, you were head over heels for each other.

A positive pregnancy test at the beginning of your senior year, when you were 17 and Eddie was 19, threw everything off balance. Before, everyone knew you and Eddie would graduate and get married. They knew you were the kind of high school sweethearts that would lead to marriage - even if you didn’t make it in the end. But a pregnancy sped everything up - way too fast.

Your parents had been furious, of course. They never approved of Eddie in the first place, thinking he was beneath you. He lived in a trailer park, he wore thrifted clothes, he repeated his senior year twice and sold drugs in the clearing behind the school. You’d heard it all before.

It didn’t stop you from loving Eddie.

You found out you were pregnant on your own. By yourself, in the silence of your bathroom while home alone, you took the test, saw the results, and cried yourself to sleep on the tile floor. You just knew Eddie was gonna run. Your parents were gonna kick you out and Eddie was gonna run and your friends were gonna abandon you, you’d be having a baby all on your own, being a single mom, working to take care of a baby-

Your spiraling turned out to all be for nothing, because your parents didn’t kick you out and Eddie didn’t leave you. That didn’t mean the news was taken well, however.

You told Eddie after school, in the theater room before Hellfire. Eddie was surprised when he looked up at the sound of the door opening and saw you walking in. You weren’t usually interested in D&D, you thought Hellfire Club meetings were boring and hated having to wait for Eddie when campaign days and date nights lined up.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, a hint of confusion in his voice. “What’s up?”

“Can I talk to you?” You were getting straight to the point, wringing your hands together and avoiding eye contact. You crossed your arms, uncrossed them, then crossed them again.

“Now?” Eddie asked, looking around the room, at the table completely set up for the campaign. “The guys are gonna be here any second-“

“I know,” you said, looking down at your feet. You were losing your resolve. “I just- it needs to be now. I need to talk to you now.”

“Is everything okay?” He pulled out a chair for you, then sat on the edge of his throne, leaning forward on his knees. “You’re freaking me out.”

“Yeah, well.” You let out a long breath. “Not really. I, uh…I have something I need to tell you.”

“Okay, now you’re really freaking me out,” he said. His eyebrows drew together, looking at you with obvious concern.

“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” you said, looking around. “Why are there no windows in here?”

Eddie looked around, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just…” You were sweating, avoiding eye contact. “It’s hot in here, is all.”

“I…feel like you’re stalling,” Eddie said, focusing back on you. You couldn’t escape his attention now. “Just tell me what’s going on, please.”

You looked down at your trembling hands. “Eddie, I…” It felt like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible, shrinking under Eddie’s gaze. You knew nothing would be the same after you said your next words. “I’m pregnant.”

It felt like time had stopped. Eddie’s throat closed up as panic set in - his skin felt ice cold. Then, he let out a heavy sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I- how? How could this fucking happen?” he asked. He rubbed his palm over his chest, as if he were physically pained. “How- when?”

“I just found out a couple days ago,” you said. You wanted to run, hide, as far away from this conversation and reality as possible. This wasn’t going well, you could already feel it. “I think I’m like- like 6 weeks, or something. I think it was…that night in your van.”

You could see Eddie mentally going back, thinking back to that night, replaying every second of it in his head. When the sickening realization passed over his face, you could see it. “We didn’t use a condom.”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t hold eye contact with him, not even for a second. Pushing some of your hair behind your ear, you continued. “I don’t…I don’t know what to do, Eddie.”

“Yeah, me fucking either,” he scoffed. He crossed his arms over his stomach, hunching over, like he might be sick. You knew what was running through his head, because it was the same thing that had been in yours. I’m a fucking idiot. I’ve ruined my life. I’ve ruined both of our lives. I’ve ruined everything. His body felt heavy.

“Are you…” You swallowed. “Are you going to stick around?”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up to your face. “Of course I am. I’m not gonna leave you on your own.”

You nodded. That was good. This wasn’t going quite as badly as you’d feared. “What are we going to do?”

“I just said I don’t fucking know!” Eddie snapped, throwing his arms out wide. He slammed his fist on the table, knocking over a bunch of figurines, and you flinched - you hadn’t been expecting it. You could see the instant regret on his face.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I didn’t mean to lose control like that,” he said. He tried to rein in his emotions, desperately trying not to take out his fear and anger on you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said quietly.

“It’s not,” he said. “You’re going through this too. How…how do you feel?”

A strangled sounding laugh tumbled from your lips. “Just great.”

“I’m being serious,” Eddie said. “I mean, this is…this is…”

“A total disaster?” you supplied. Eddie nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. I know.”

“Have you thought about it?” he asked. “What you want to do?”

“Like if I want to…keep it?”

Eddie nodded. He clenched his jaw, preparing for your response.

You nodded your head quickly. “Yeah. I mean, that’s the only thing I do know. I don’t think I can get rid of it. I mean…it’s ours.”

He dropped his head forward. He was hunched over, buried into himself. He cursed under his breath - he knew you and he knew you’d say that, but he had still been hoping for something different. For you to say you wanted an abortion - that’s what Eddie would have chosen. He felt like he couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs.

His mind immediately jumped to the future - what that would look like. He pictured his life over, no more fun, no more D&D or Corroded Coffin or weed or anything. Dead end job he hates just to take care of the baby. His relationship with you taking a nosedive. He stretched his hands out wide and balled them into fists, over and over.

“It’s fine, it’s gonna be fine,” you said, mostly to yourself. “We’re gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be alright.”

“Should we…” he began, but startled you when he abruptly stood, the throne scraping loudly against the floor as it was pushed back. He started pacing, back and forth in front of you as he raked his hands through his curls. “I don’t know, do we have to…should we get married?”

Your mouth fell open, staring at Eddie incredulously. Had he really just suggested you get married? “Do you…want to marry me?”

“Of course I do,” he said easily. “I just…I imagined it being in the future, y’know? Not right now. It’s not…we’re not ready. We haven’t even lived yet, you know?”

“I know.”

“But…the, uh…” Eddie stopped moving, cleared his throat. “The baby. Should we get married for the baby?”

You turned his words over in your mind. You knew it would be best for the baby if you were together. But did you really want Eddie to marry you only because he felt like he had to? “I mean,” you started, “we could. But we don’t…if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but baby,” he said, coming back over to sit in front of you again. “You know how people are gonna talk. I don’t care, I’m used to it. But I know you care.”

It was true. You weren’t particularly concerned with popularity and social hierarchy, but you did care what people said about you. You didn’t want to be talked about like trash all over town. And that’s exactly what would happen. “People are gonna say all kinds of shit.”

“Yeah. They are.” Eddie looked at you. “But that’s why we’re gonna go to the courthouse and get married. Like, this weekend.”

“Eddie- what?” Your lips parted, drawing in a quick gasp. “Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious,” he said. He grasped your hands in his larger ones. “That’s the only way. We have to get married so people don’t know you were pregnant first. Or everyone’s going to…they’re gonna call you a whore, they’re gonna say you’re easy. I’m not gonna let anyone talk about you that way.”

“Eddie…” Tears brimmed in your eyes, your lower lip wobbling as you tried to find the words. “How would we- how do we explain why we got married so suddenly?”

“Just couldn’t wait anymore,” Eddie said, grinning. “Too in love. Had to get married immediately, couldn’t be put off for another second.”

Soft laughter bubbled up from deep inside, pulled from you unwillingly by Eddie’s words. “Really? You want to elope?”

“Fuck yeah,” he said. “Let’s do it. Let’s fuckin’ elope.”

You told your parents the next day. That went…worse. A good hour of lectures, yelling, and crying later, they agreed it was best for you and Eddie to get married. They didn’t approve of him, not by a long shot, but having you single and pregnant at 17 was worse.

Eddie was the most scared to tell Wayne. He knew his uncle was going to be disappointed in him, and that was the worst thing he could think of. He cared so much about Wayne, the idea of letting him down made his stomach sink.

You had cooked a dinner for Wayne and Eddie, something to sit down and eat together before Wayne went to work so you could break the news. One delicious lasagna later and you were sitting the dish down in front of a confused Wayne and a terrified Eddie.

“So…” Eddie started about halfway through an awkwardly silent dinner - you were letting him take the lead and he was just now working up the courage to speak. Wayne looked up at him, his mouth full of lasagna. “There was something I…we…wanted to talk to you about.”

Wayne swallowed, wiping his mouth with his napkin. He was scared of whatever Eddie was about to say, it was written across his face. “Yeah? What’s goin’ on?”

“We, uh,” Eddie cleared his throat, looking at you then back at Wayne. “We just, uh, have some news.”

You were pretty sure Wayne knew what you were about to say from that moment, from the sick feeling that crossed his face. “What is it?”

Silence. Eddie pushed his food around his plate. “We…so, we’re…” A heavy sigh. “We’re…having a baby.”

Wayne just stared at the two of you. Then, he let out a long, weary sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Ed…”

“I know,” Eddie said. “I know.” He had promised not to end up this way. He had promised not to throw his life away. He had promised to live a life that put respect on the Munson name. He didn’t do any of those things.

“What the hell are you gonna do?” Wayne asked. He didn’t say it like he was mad. He wasn’t mad - not really. Just disappointed, and scared shitless for his nephew.

You and Eddie glanced at each other. “We’re, ah, gonna get married. This weekend.”

“Getting married?” Wayne practically choked. “Ed, are you sure-“

“Yeah.” Eddie squeezed your hand under the table. “I’m sure. This is what I want, what’s best for us.”

Wayne took a long sip of his beer. “God, Ed,” he said, once he’d sat the bottle back down on the kitchen table. “How did you let this happen?”

That weekend, December 1985, you wore a thrifted lacy white dress to the courthouse. Eddie dressed in a black button up shirt, tucked into his only pair of not-ripped jeans. His hair was combed and neat, and he was freshly shaven. You held a small cheap bouquet as you said your vows in front of the justice of the peace, then held Eddie’s hands and looked into his eyes as you declared your love for him. You cried. Eddie almost did.

Your parents and Wayne watched on - it was a bittersweet moment for them. They could see the love between you, but the circumstances weren’t ideal.

You graduated 5 months pregnant, but the pride you felt at finishing school was nothing compared to how proud you were to see Eddie walk the stage. Wayne teared up as Eddie was handed his diploma. Your two families took photos together outside after the ceremony, Eddie’s hand possessively on your belly.

Your daughter, Caroline Roxanne Munson, was born September 1986. Your pregnancy was blessedly easy, your birth simple and quick. Eddie held his baby girl like she was made of glass, like she held the secrets of the universe.

“Hi, baby girl,” he mumbled to her as he rocked her in his arms, you asleep in the hospital bed behind him. The tiny baby opened her eyes, peeking around the room but focusing as much as she could on Eddie’s face. Eddie trailed his finger lightly over her chubby cheek, her small nose - his nose. Your lips. His eyes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I love you and your mama more than I’ve ever loved anything.”

Eddie got a job as a mechanic right out of high school, at the shop down the road from Forest Hills. He was determined - it didn’t take long before he was buying a trailer and having it put in next door to Wayne’s. A new double wide, with three bedrooms.

The front door led into a large open living room with a kitchen to the right. Past the kitchen was the door to the master bedroom with a bathroom attached. Down the hall to the left was a bathroom, and two smaller bedrooms.

Caroline spent the first couple months of her life sleeping in the room with you and Eddie, but when she was six months old, you moved her into her own room.

You were happy.

When Caroline was old enough, you got a job as a receptionist for a local doctor’s office. You and Eddie were doing well - you had pulled yourselves out of a bad situation and made the best of it, and made yourselves a nice life. Wayne and your parents were proud of you both.

January 1988 - it occurred to you that you hadn’t gotten your period in three months. You’d been so busy you hadn’t even noticed - you didn’t exactly track it, it came when it came. But when you noticed it had been months? Panic set in. Caroline was only 16 months old, it felt like you’d just had her first birthday party.

You kissed Eddie at the door, took Caroline to daycare, and bought a pregnancy test on the way to work. It sat in its bag in your car all day, weighing heavily on your mind during work.

When you got off you went straight home - usually you got off work at 4, picked up Caroline, and started dinner in time for Eddie to get home at 6:30. But today, you had something to do before you could pick up your daughter.

At the house, you tossed your car keys on the hall table and headed straight for the master bathroom, bag clutched in your hand. 30 minutes later, and you were staring at a familiar sight - a positive pregnancy test.

You had no idea how Eddie was going to take the news. Sure, it was better to get pregnant now than when you were 17. But was it the right time? You and Eddie hadn’t even talked about more kids - you figured he didn’t want more. One was enough for both of you.

You picked up Caroline and got home, starting the meatloaf and mashed potato dinner. At 6:30, Caroline was sitting on the floor, playing with her toys with the Care Bears on the TV while you finished up the last of dinner. You were placing the steaming dishes on the kitchen table when the front door opened and Eddie walked in, oil splattered coveralls unzipped.

“Hey baby,” he greeted you. “Smells great. Is it ready?”

“Yep,” you said, maybe too casually. Eddie gave you a look, but shrugged it off, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips.

“And how’s my other best girl?” he asked, lifting Caroline into his arms. “What did you learn at school today?”

Caroline babbled to him about Care Bears. Eddie smiled at his daughter - he adored her like he’d never adored anything else. Not even his first sweetheart - the guitar currently hanging in your bedroom that still got plenty of love.

“That’s great, baby girl,” he said. He kissed her on the top of her head and sat her back down, where she took off running into the kitchen and straight into your legs. You picked her up, sitting her on your hip.

“How was your day?” Eddie asked you. He grabbed a bite of meatloaf and popped it into his mouth.

“It was…it was good,” you said. “Uh, boring.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Hey, I’m gonna go take a quick shower. I’ll be right back and we can eat.”

“Okay,” you said, watching his form already retreating into the bedroom. The door closed behind him, leaving you alone with Caroline. You sat her in her high chair and cut up her meatloaf, making her plate.

You were helping her eat when Eddie came back out, hair wet and dressed in a white tank top and his plaid pajama pants. He took his usual seat and began piling his plate high with food.

You’d changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants since getting off work. You sat down in your seat across the table, Caroline between the two of you. You pushed your food around your plate.

“So,” you began, after a few minutes of idle conversation. “I, uh. Something happened today.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asked, looking up at you as he chewed his food. “What?”

You bit your lip. Caroline shoved a whole handful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. “My period is three months late.”

Silence. Eddie stopped eating, just staring at you. The only sound was Caroline, oblivious as she squealed and continued eating her dinner.

“…Oh?” he said finally. You couldn’t read him - you had no idea what he was thinking.

“Yeah,” you said. This was incredibly awkward. Things between you and Eddie were never this stilted. “So I got a test today.”

Eddie had lost his appetite, at least for right now. His food sat untouched in front of him while he stared at you. “Did you take it?”

“Yeah.”

“And?” He was getting impatient. “Please just tell me.”

You looked down at your plate. “It was positive.”

A long rush of air. Eddie running a hand through his wet curls, pushing them back out of his face. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, staring at some point on the wall behind you now instead of at you.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Okay. This is…it’s okay. We’re okay.”

“You think so?” Your brow was furrowed in concern. “Can we afford it? Are we ready? Is Caroline ready?”

“We’ll just…have to get ready,” Eddie said. “I mean, financially I think we’ll be okay. We’re alright. But are you…are you ready for another baby?” He was looking at you again. He reached across the table and took your hand, Caroline obliviously blowing raspberries and getting food everywhere. “This is mostly a big change for you.”

It was true. You were the one who’d have to go through another pregnancy and birth, you were the one who’d be at home with a newborn while Eddie only got one week of parental leave. You were the primary parent while Eddie worked longer hours.

“We don’t really have a choice,” you said. “I’ve got to be like, 10 weeks pregnant at least.” Eddie rubbed his hand over his chest. “But…yeah. I think I can do it.”

You were 11 weeks pregnant, it turned out, with a healthy little baby. Eddie smiled at you so big his face hurt at the first ultrasound. At home or out in public, he kept his hand on your belly most of the time, protectively.

This pregnancy was already such a different experience. Eddie was excited. He was extremely involved, stayed by your side every second, constantly had to be touching you and the bump, talked about baby stuff, wished for a son. Of course he’d be happy with another daughter too, but - a son would be cool, he thought.

You decided not to find out the gender. It was going to be a surprise - you decorated the third bedroom in gender neutral colors, a yellow Winnie the Pooh theme. Eddie made a little Hellfire shirt, just like he had for Caroline when you were still in high school.

You went into labor in the middle of the night. It was right on time, and your bag had been packed for weeks by the door. You dropped Caroline off with Wayne next door, and headed to the hospital to have a baby.

The birth was a little more complicated this time. There was some hemorrhaging, so they wouldn’t let you hold the baby right away. But in June 1988, you gave birth to another beautiful baby girl - Janis “Janie” Nicole Munson.

Wayne brought Caroline, who was 1 year and 9 months old, to the hospital to visit. She clung to Wayne tightly until he entered the room and she recognized you and Eddie - she reached for her father, whining for him. He laughed, lifting her from his uncle’s arms.

“Hey, angel,” he said to her. “Are you ready to meet your baby sister?”

Caroline wasn’t sure about Janie at first. She just stared at her like she was scared to touch her. Janie was sound asleep in your arms, wrapped in her hospital blanket with her little hat on her head full of dark brown hair. Finally, Caroline reached out, poking her cheek. That was as much as you were getting from her.

The sisters warmed up to each other quickly. Caroline was so fussy with noises as a baby, but Janie could sleep through the loudest of her sister’s screeches - maybe she’d gotten used to them in the womb.

After his week of parental leave, when you all stayed home together, Eddie took Caroline to daycare every morning while you stayed home for 6 weeks with Janie. You spent most of your days on the couch, cuddled together and watching old sitcom reruns. You were happy and content.

Janie hardly ever cried. She was so different from her sister - quiet and reserved, even as she grew. She was well behaved and kind, while Caroline was loud and in charge (but still a sweet girl).

Eddie adjusted to life as a dad of two easily. He really was a natural at being a father. He’d walk around the house with Janie in his arms, a giggling Caroline hanging on his back with her arms around his neck.

“Did you get her to sleep?” you asked Eddie one night, bleary eyed as you breastfed Janie in bed. He was shutting the bedroom door softly behind him.

“Yeah,” he said. “She went down easy tonight. She’s out.” He laid on the bed next to you with a groan - he’d had a long day at work. “How are my other two girls?”

“Tired,” you said. “She’s almost done eating. She should be ready to lay down in a few minutes.”

“Good,” Eddie said. “You need the rest.”

You did. It was hard to find time to sleep between taking care of a 3 month old and a newly 2 year old. “I’m exhausted,” you admitted.

“You want me to take her?” he asked. “I can finish feeding her with the bottle.”

“No, it’s okay. She hates the bottle.” You smiled down at your baby daughter. “I think she might already be asleep.”

Eddie leaned over. “She’s eating in her sleep?”

“Yeah. She does that.”

Janie finished eating about 10 minutes later, just letting go and turning her sleepy head. She was out. Eddie took her from your arms and down the hall to her bedroom.

When he came back, he crawled back into bed next to you. “Finally alone,” he teased, kissing your shoulder.

You knew he was just messing around - you hadn’t been in the mood for sex since Janie was born, even though you’d been cleared for 6 weeks - Eddie had been patient. But you wanted him - finally, something was coming alive inside you as Eddie kissed across your skin.

“Yeah,” you said. “Finally.” You met each other’s eyes - then your lips crashed together, meeting in a heated kiss. Eddie’s tongue slid into your mouth, pressing against yours, exploring you. He moaned, he was already hard - it had been months, after all.

“God, I need you,” he groaned as your hand brushed over the rock hard erection in his pajama pants. “I want you so bad.”

“I want you too,” you whispered back. You pulled him tighter into you, your sensitive breasts pressed against his bare chest.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want to rush you. We really- we really don’t have to.”

“I want to, Eddie,” you told him, grinding your hips against his cock, making him moan pathetically.

Then you showed him just how much.

February 1990, when Caroline was 3 ½ years old and Janie was nearing 2, Eddie came to you with a proposition.

“Let’s have another baby,” he said.

“What?” You nearly spit out your coffee. “Eddie- what?”

“I know, it’s completely out of nowhere,” he said. “But hear me out. The girls are older, a little more independent. We’re financially stable. And I want another baby.”

“You want another baby?” Somehow, you’d still never discussed it. “I didn’t think you’d even be happy about two kids.”

“Are you kidding?” he said. “With you? I’ll have ten.” He brushed his thumb over your cheek. “We aren’t kids ourselves anymore. We’re 23 and 21. We have stable jobs, we’re great parents. We can do this.”

With two accidental pregnancies under your belt, you and Eddie felt like getting pregnant on purpose would be a breeze. You were experts at this point, after all. And the act that led to the making of babies was one you two had plenty of practice at.

But it didn’t happen. You fully expected to get pregnant right away, so when your period showed up the next month, you had been borderline confused.

“I don’t get it,” you said, sitting down on the side of the bed next to Eddie, feeling dejected and sad. “We- I mean, we had sex plenty of times without protection. Why didn’t it work?”

“I don’t know, baby,” Eddie said gently. “Maybe it can take time? I’m sure it’ll happen next month.”

But in April, your period showed up again. And again in May and June. By the time July rolled around, you were scared and discouraged.

“We did this by accident twice,” you said, tossing a negative pregnancy test in the trash can and wiping tears from your eyes. “How can it be so hard to do on purpose?”

“Maybe we should go to the doctor?” Eddie offered. He was leaning against the doorway of the master bathroom, shirtless with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m sure there’s…an explanation.”

“But probably not a good one,” you sniffled. “But…I’ll think about it.”

August came, and with it came an increase in appointments at the pediatrician office you worked at in preparation for school. Between work and the kids, you were kept so busy you completely forgot about taking a test.

When you remembered, you were 2 weeks late.

“Eddie?” you crept into the bedroom after laying down Janie. Eddie had just gotten Caroline bathed and in bed, and was lying in the bed you shared, shirtless, flipping through his D&D notebook with a cigarette between his lips. He had feared his days of gaming were over, but he still found time for Hellfire every other week. He was still the only one of his friends to get married or have kids. You wondered sometimes if that bothered him.

“What’s up?” he asked, looking up from his notebook. He put out the cigarette in the ashtray next to the bed and closed the book, dropping it in the drawer.

“So…” you said, climbing in bed. “I took…a test.”

Eddie’s eyes scanned your face for any hint at how you were feeling. When he didn’t see sadness, a grin slowly spread across his lips. “Did you?”

“Yeah, I did,” you said. You were trying your best to hold your own smile back. You placed the test in Eddie’s hand - he turned it over to reveal the result. Positive.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug while you giggled. “This is the best news. I’m so fuckin’ happy. Another baby.”

Eddie was a little more open with his hope for a son this time around. He reassured you every time that he’d be happy with a third daughter, but - he had his hopes. You didn’t mind either way - you loved being a girl mom, but a son would be amazing, too.

This pregnancy was rougher than the first two. You stayed sick, often ending up in the hospital for fluids after being unable to keep anything down. You were in a lot of pain, under a lot of stress, and were exhausted at all hours of the day. Eddie stepped up a lot, coming home from work as early as he was able and cooking dinner some nights, helping with the girls and their bedtime routine.

Your doctor was concerned, but the baby made it until their due date, April 1991. You were induced, however, because they didn’t want to chance leaving things any longer. The birth went well, and your third daughter was born - Melissa ‘Missy’ Joan Munson.

Having a third child turned out to be a much bigger adjustment than one to two, or even none to one. Everything changed after Missy’s birth. Eddie never said it, but it was clear he felt some regret for suggesting a third child, despite the love he felt for her.

You and Eddie were both exhausted, between work and home, it felt like it never stopped. By the time the girls were in bed - Caroline and Janie sharing, Missy in her own nursery - you were too tired to do anything, both just passing out in your own bed. Your sex life was nonexistent, and you hardly had the chance to say a passing word to one another.

Over the next four years, things were strained. You were struggling more financially than you had expected. The stress over bills was constant, one or both of you sitting hunched over the kitchen table with the mail spread out and your head in your hands.

When Missy was three, she started preschool and you picked up a second job waitressing. You had never been at that level of exhausted before.

It strained your relationship more than anything. Eddie was withdrawing, spending more time at work (which you couldn’t complain about because you needed the money), going out with the guys, and burying his stresses in beer and weed after the girls were in bed. Many nights, you went to sleep alone.

Fights became a regular thing. Whether it be about finances, chores, parenting, whatever - it was always something. It felt like you couldn’t have a civilized conversation with each other anymore.

“You promised you would do the dishes,” you said, dropping the laundry basket full of the girl’s clothes in front of the washing machine. You opened it, poured in the detergent, and angrily started throwing clothes inside. “But they were still there when I got home today.”

“I forgot,” Eddie mumbled. He was drinking a beer in the recliner by the TV. The girls were in bed, and Eddie was distracted by whatever rerun was currently playing.

“You always forget.” The last of the clothes were put inside and you slammed the lid shut. Turning the dial, you started the wash cycle. “Then I have to end up doing it myself.”

“Well, it’s kind of your job,” he muttered.

“Are you fucking serious?” You walked into the living room and stepped in front of the TV, hand on your hip. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Here we fuckin’ go,” he groaned.

“You are such an asshole,” you spat. “What’s your problem? It’s impossible to get you to do anything around here anymore. You just get home from work and sit on your ass and let me do everything!”

“I’m tired!” he exclaimed. “I’m fucking exhausted! I just want to sit down with a fuckin’ beer when I get off work and not get bitched at by my wife for once.”

“Oh, I’m bitching?” you scoffed. “I’m fucking tired too, Eddie! I work two jobs then come home and take care of the house and my apparently four children.”

“Real mature,” Eddie said. He took another swig of his beer then pushed closed the leg rest of the recliner. “Fuck this. I’m going to bed.”

“This is why we can never get through anything,” you threw your hands in the air. “You run away. You’re not willing to listen to anything I have to say. You have no respect for me. You don’t care about making anything better.”

“There is no ‘making things better’ when it comes to you.” He threw his beer bottle into the trash can with a loud clatter. “You’re never happy. Nothing I do makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

Silence. Eddie stopped, but didn’t turn around. Finally, he shook his head. “Goodnight.” And he disappeared into the bedroom.

This wasn’t new, either. You’d end up waiting until you knew Eddie was asleep before you came to bed yourself, even if you were tired. Or maybe you’d just sleep on the couch. Either way, it felt like things between you and Eddie were doomed.

It was March 1995 when you called it quits for good.

The fighting, the resentment, the drama - it had all gotten to be too much. You and Eddie didn’t even seem to like each other anymore. You didn’t know how Eddie felt deep down, but you knew you’d always love him - even if you felt like you hated him right now.

You moved out and into a three bedroom apartment. Eddie helped you move while the girls were with your parents, but it was extremely awkward. Steve, Robin, and Nancy came over and helped, too, which made it a little less uncomfortable.

It was a bittersweet moment for you - you were happy to be getting out of that house full of painful memories and starting a new life on your own, but watching Eddie walk out the door and leave you standing there alone - it crushed you. It hurt more than you ever anticipated it would. You almost went after him. Almost.

The divorce was finalized five months later.

You and Eddie barely even looked at each other as you signed the papers. There was a custody hearing, mercifully brief since you and Eddie were able to come to an agreement easily. You would keep the girls during the week while Eddie got them every other weekend. He would have liked more time, but he knew with the divorce would come sacrifice.

The girls didn’t take it well. They were 9, 7, and 4 at the time, old enough to understand what was happening and what it meant for their life as a family. For the first few months, they would cry their eyes out at every custody drop off, which made both you and Eddie feel like the worst people on the planet. But with time, everyone settled into the new normal.

You dated a few guys on and off, but never got into a serious relationship. More hookups than anything. It’s like you looked for Eddie in every guy you met, whether you could admit that to yourself or not.

Eddie was a different story. It seemed like he had a new girl on his arm every time you turned around. And it pissed you off. It’s not like you couldn’t get a boyfriend - you had plenty of opportunity to. You just didn’t like anyone. Eddie didn’t care. He didn’t have any serious girlfriends, but he didn’t mind sleeping around. He was single for the first time since he was 17, and he was living it up. It made you sick.

But you were better off apart.

October 1997

Your car pulled into the parking lot of the abandoned Shell station, the designated meeting place since the separation. It was run down, weeds peeking through the cracks in the asphalt. Eddie’s truck wasn’t there yet.

You checked your beeper to see if you had any missed messages from Eddie - nothing.

You sighed. He was always late. The girls were in the backseat fighting over a toy, not bothered at all.

Finally, his truck rumbled into the parking lot. You could hear the music before you saw the vehicle - metal blasting so loud the whole street probably heard. You rolled your eyes, preparing to deal with him.

“Daddy’s here!” Missy yelled, unhooking herself from her car seat and reaching for the door. Caroline and Janie lit up too, grabbing their weekend bags.

Eddie’s truck skidded to a stop in the parking spot one over from yours. You slid your sunglasses on, then opened the door, stepping out just as Eddie hopped down from his side. You could see her sitting in the passenger seat, not even bothering to look at you.

“Daddy!” the girls all yelled, jumping out of the SUV and running to Eddie. He laughed as he hugged them all, tossing Missy in the air.

“How are my favorite girls?” he asked, ruffling Janie’s hair. She pushed him off with a giggle, fixing her braid.

“I thought I was your favorite girl?” Stacy called from the passenger seat. She was joking, but it still made you want to punch her.

“We’re good,” Caroline said. “Can we see Laura this weekend?”

Laura was Jeff’s 6 year old. Jeff was the only one of Eddie’s friends who’d had a kid, too, and she was close with the girls.

“I’m sure we can,” he said. Missy was latched onto his leg, as if she hadn’t seen him in years. He lifted her, placing a kiss on her head. “Okay, girls, go ahead and get in the truck. We gotta go, and I need to talk to your mom before we leave.”

“Bye, mommy!” The girls called, each giving you a tight hug. You waved and watched them climb into the tall truck, closing the door hard behind them. No one in the truck could hear you now.

Eddie took a step closer to you. “You look nice,” he said, his voice low. “You gotta date or something?”

“Or something,” you said. “Not that it’s any of your business. Don’t you have your skank to get back to?”

Eddie nearly cackled, throwing his head back and laughing hard. “You always were so feisty,” he said.

You couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Take good care of my girls.”

“You know I will,” he said seriously. “You can call any time. If you wanna talk to them.”

You glanced towards the tinted truck window. “I don’t think she would like that too much.”

“She’ll get over it,” he shrugged. “You’re their mom. You can talk to them whenever.” He scuffed his boot against the ground. “How…have you been?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but jumped when the truck’s car horn blared. You and Eddie both looked over his shoulder to see Stacy leaning on the horn, looking out the window and gesturing for Eddie to hurry up.

“Guess you have to go,” you said. “Your girl is calling you.”

Eddie looked sheepish. “I’ll see you Sunday,” he said. He looked like he wanted to say something else maybe, but instead he turned, walking back around the truck to the driver’s side door. You climbed back into your own car, the silence heavy with the kids gone.

You started the car and drove back home.

tag list

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slxtwritersblog · 3 days ago

Text

✶ CAUGHT IN THE ACT!

warnings!: suggestive content, getting caught, little fluff!

[PARING] megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

His bed was way too small for the two of you. But neither of you cared.

You dropped onto the mattress, feeling it dip under your weight. Megumi was already leaning over you, his dark hair fell over his forehead, a little messy like always. His lips find yours with slow, heavy pressure—soft at first, then with growing urgency. When his tongue slips past your lips, warm and slick, you melt into him, matching the slow, deliberate rhythm.

god you've been waiting for this all day

His hand slides beneath your lacy bra, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your breast before curling possessively around it. You shiver at the firm but gentle squeeze, the rough pad of his palm contrasting with the delicate lace. A low, breathy moan vibrates against your lips, his whole body humming with excitment.

You can feel the heat pooling low in your belly, as his other hand slides down your side to your hip lightly, leaving a trail of goosebumps. His hips shift, pressing hard and grinding slow against you through the thin fabric of your shorts.

His hair is a tangled mess—dark strands falling across his forehead, sticking slightly with sweat as he leans in, his jaw tight and trembling with barely controlled need. His breath fans over your neck, hot and ragged, lips trailing open-mouthed kisses that leave your skin burning.

His tongue teases your neck, flicking gently over a pulse point, and he hums low in his throat, causing it to send vibrations down your spine.

You press back into him instinctively, your fingers threading into his messy hair, tugging him closer.

His body tenses beneath your hands, thick muscles coiling like a spring about to snap. He grunts low and hard, each breath shaky, his hips rocking against you with more insistence, grinding in time with your racing heart.

Then, just as his hand dips lower, sliding slick over your damp folds through the thin fabric, your back arches, breath caught on a moan barely escaping your lips—

The door bursts open.

SLAM

“Megumi! You forgot—OH MY GOD!!”

Gojo stood in the doorway, holding a folder, his mouth slack and eyebrows drew up from behind his shades.

You both flinched so hard the bed shifted under you.

You tried to scramble off the bed at the same time Megumi tried to pull away and the result was catastrophic. Limbs tangled, momentum lost—you crashed to the floor in a heap with a loud, painful thud.

silence... god you wanted to die..

Gojo stood in the doorway, holding a folder, his mouth slack and eyebrows drew up from behind his shades.

“Wow. Okay. That was not what I was expecting.”

You were on top of Megumi, hair in your face, shirt twisted. He was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling like he was trying to manifest death.

“I knocked,” Gojo added. “You just didn’t hear it over all the...yeah.”

“Get. Out,” Megumi said without even looking at him.

Gojo stepped in further. “You know, you could’ve at least put a sock on the doorknob or something. This is a shared space, Megumi. Think of your peers.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Nope,” Gojo chirped. “Not until I pass on these mission briefs. Which I’ll now leave… right here.”

He dropped the folder on the desk and walked back out like he hadn’t just walked in on the most embarrassing moment of your lives.

The door clicked shut behind him.

You groaned and dropped your head on Megumi’s chest, face burning. “I think I broke my shoulder.”

He muttered, dry, “You landed on me.”

There was a long pause until he spoke up again. He looked at you. “You still staying?”

You sat up on his lap and slid your shirt off with a smirk.

✰ not proof read ฅ^._.^ฅ

#oneshot #anime #jujutsu kaisen #suggestive #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #hes so hot #gojo too i guess #megumi fushiguro #x reader #anime x reader

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whenyoucallmenoona · 3 days ago

Text

SKZ Headcannons

They see you in a bikini for the first time

Pairing: Maknae Line x Plus Size Reader

{ Hyung Line can be found here }

Genre: Mild Angst | Fluff | Suggestive

Word Count: 2.1k

_________________________________

bf!Han - You ask for his advice on your suit choice

Jisung was sitting on your shared couch, watching anime with his hand in the popcorn bowl when you casually walked out of your bedroom in the most tantalizing piece of clothing known to man: a green polka dot bikini.

“Hey, do you think this will be okay for our beach trip?” You asked him, pausing next to the couch for his assessment. “I know it’s a public beach and there will be plenty of women in bikini’s but this one seems…I don’t know.” Jisung continued to stare, hand halfway to his mouth with the next bite of popcorn. You did a small turn before facing him again, realizing he had frozen face. “Ji?” You waved a hand in front of his face a few times, and he finally came to.

“Holy shit.” He dropped the popcorn back into the bowl and set it aside.

You looked scrumptious. Jisung had never seen you in a bathing suit like this before. The cut of it was really, really revealing. There were string ties at both hips and behind your neck, and your voluptuous curves were on display almost obscenely. His eyes trailed from your crotch to your tummy, up your sides and to your tits, spilling out of the top. He finally met your eyes and saw your expectant expression.

Jisung refocused. “Have you been saying something? Because I gotta admit I didn’t hear anything in the last…thirty seconds.”

“I said,” You giggled, gesturing down at your body, “is this appropriate for the beach next week? Or can you see too much of me.”

He swallowed thickly, picturing you on top of him with his face in your boobs. “Personally, I could do with seeing more of you…but as for the rest of our friends, this is about all I would allow.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You huffed, feeling slightly frustrated. “I’m being serious. Can you focus for 2 minutes?”

“Yes. Sorry. I’m listening.” Jisung sat up straight, pulling a pillow into his lap to cover his rager.

“I’m worried going out in this suit will turn heads in the wrong way. Cause you can see all my cellulite and stretch marks…and it’s not usually okay for fat people to walk around like this.” Your shoulders slumped at the end of your sentence.

Now he frowned. “Baby I love your body. You’re sexy as hell.”

“I know you think that, but what if I get dirty looks from other people?” You asked anxiously, hugging your elbows.

“(Y/n)…” Jisung reached for your hands, pulling you over to the couch. “First of all, fuck what other people think. And second of all, there is absolutely nothing ‘wrong’ or ‘gross’ about your body. You have the same right to wear a sexy little bikini as any other woman on the beach.”

Your forehead relaxed at his words, and you smiled softly, squeezing his hands. “Thanks for saying that Ji.”

“Well it’s the truth, baby.” He surprised you then by pulling you into his lap with a sudden burst of strength. “Now, wanna help me out with this problem you created?”

He raised an eyebrow as he moved the pillow off his crotch, showing you his ‘problem.’ You blushed furiously, but leaned down to kiss him without hesitation.

_________________________________

bsf!Felix - You’re out shopping for swimsuits together

“(Y/n), come out! You’ve been in there forever. I wanna see how you look.” Felix tapped lightly on your changing room door.

“I don’t know Lix…none of these fit right.” You huffed through the door.

“Do you need me to get a different size?” He asked, taking a step back from the door as he heard you approach.

“I’ll let you decide.” You mumbled, opening the door enough so he could see inside.

“Wah~” Felix exclaimed when he saw the one you were wearing. It was the suit he’d picked out specifically for you when you’d been browsing. It was a daisy duke style two piece in baby blue with white daisies dotted across the fabric. The bottoms covered most of your tummy and butt, but your beautifully thick thighs and curvy legs were on full display. The top was strapless and synched in the center and at the sides with little bows, accentuating your full breasts perfectly. Felix was in heaven. “You look incredible!”

“Wait, what?” You asked him, shocked at his reaction. “You don’t think it’s…too tight?”

“Does it feel too tight?” Felix asked, barely containing his excitement at how cute and sexy you looked.

“No, but…” You trailed off, turning from him in the doorway to face the mirror behind you. “You can see all my rolls…and my stretch marks on my thighs—“

“Believe me, no one is looking at that, love.” Felix came up behind you and wrapped you up in a tight hug, like he often did when you were feeling less then cheerful. Only now he was thinking about the way your body fit back against him in a whole new way. “You’re gorgeous in this, we’re getting it.”

“Oh, come on Felix.” You tried to unwrap his arms from your waist, but he held tight and leaned forward to kiss your cheek, making you start to giggle.

“I’m serious. You can wear it the next time we go out on the company yacht.” He reassured you, finally stepping back when he felt his blood start to pump a little more southerly. He didn’t want you to feel that, anyway. You were strictly best friends, after all…

“No one wants to see this on the yacht.” You shook your head as you gestured down your body, but Felix turned you and caught your chin, stopping you short.

“Hey, none of that, love. You’re always a treat to look at. Even more so in this bikini.” Then he kissed your forehead, making your blush. “Now get changed, I’m treating you to ice cream next.”

Felix left you in the changing room, going to the front to pay for all of your items as a surprise. It was the only way he could be sure you’d walk out of there with that bikini.

Now he just had to figure out how to spend the rest of the afternoon with you without letting his mind wander to inappropriate places, picturing his best friend in a whole new way…

_________________________________

roommate!Seungmin - He sees you trying on your new bikini

Seungmin was bumming around your shared apartment, bored out of his mind. He ate a snack. Tried to watch some TV, waiting for you to come out of your room so he could annoy you for entertainment.

Eventually he got tired of waiting, and marched over to your room, opening the door without even knocking.

“Bro, what the fuck?” You scoffed at him, turning around from your full length mirror where you’d been looking at yourself. “You’re supposed to fucking knock? I could’ve been naked!”

“New suit?” He asked, casually leaning against the doorway and using all of his strength to keep his expression neutral.

You huffed but dropped your anger, knowing you’d get nowhere with Seungmin that way. You turned back to the mirror examining yourself with a frown. “Yeah. But I think I have to return it.”

“Why?” He asked, talking a few steps into your room to get a closer look.

You were in a high waisted bikini set. The bottoms started in a lovely yellow and faded up in a gradient to a sunset orange top, with spaghetti straps and clasps in the back. Your wide hips filled the suit so nicely, your butt peaking out the bottoms just a little, teasingly. The bikini top was padded like a wire bra, and your cleavage was slightly spilling out of the cup.

It was the most of your skin Seungmin had ever seen, and he was trying to be normal about it.

“Well, look at me…” You gestured to your curvy, full body.

“I am.” Seungmin wasn’t computing. “What’s wrong? It looks cute.”

“Cute? Come on…I look completely unappealing. And jiggly.” Your lip trembled a little at the end and Seungmin frowned.

“Well I don’t agree.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I think you should keep it. And wear it to the pool next time we go.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, surprised by his forwardness. You’d been expecting him to make fun of you. Your shoulders relaxed back down. “You really think it looks okay?”

“More than okay.” He felt his composure starting to slip, and before he could do something stupid like reach out and slip a strap off your shoulder, he turned to leave. “It looks great (Y/n).”

He left your room without looking back, but if he had he would’ve seen your cheeks blushing profusely as you smiled.

Seungmin’s own thoughts were preoccupied with the shape of your body, and how soon he could arrange a pool date for the two of you.

_________________________________

best friends brother!I.N - He joins the beach trip not realizing you’d be there in that outfit

When Jeongin had agreed to come to the beach with his older sister and her group of friends, she’d neglected to mention you would be there. His long time crush and big sister’s best friend.

Everyone was standing on the beach under the canopy they’d just set up, putting on sunblock. His sister and her boyfriend were helping each other apply it while the other friends all paired off to help each other.

Somehow you and Jeongin were the only ones left without assistance.

“Will you get my back?” You asked Jeongin as he stood there staring around him like a lost puppy. He immediately started sweating at the thought, not answering as you started to take off your clothes. When you straighted back up and were just in your white bikini, you poked him on his bare shoulder. “Iyen-ah?”

“What?” He blurted, trying desperately not to stare at your boobs.

You were wearing a white two piece bikini that hugged your plump body in a mouthwatering way. The bottoms were a skirt that fell only to the tops of your thighs, your grippable butt still peaking out of the back. The top was a wrap around style that tied behind your neck, pushing your breasts up and creating a valley of cleavage that Jeongin wanted to dive into. Suddenly he realized he was staring very inappropriately and snapped his mouth closed.

“You good, Innie?” You chuckled at him, pulling your hair up into a hun before grabbing the sunblock spray.

“Sorry, I was um, distracted. What did you need?” He tripped over his words, suddenly very glad he had tight underwear on under his trunks to keep his growing boner tucked away.

“Can you spray my back for me?” You asked Jeongin again, offering the sunblock.

“Oh yeah, sure.” He took the bottle and let out a breath when you turned around, offering your back to him. This view was almost as good as the front, your hips curving in a beautiful s line and your plump butt sticking out slightly as you waited for him to spray you.

He finally did so, uncapping the bottle and spraying your back, shoulders, and the space between your butt and the bottom of your top. When he was done you turned around and held out your arms. “Get the front for me?”

You were smirking mischievously.

Jeongin swallowed and did as you asked, letting his eyes travel over your exposed skin unhindered while he made sure to cover you in the protective spray. “O-okay, I think I got everywhere.”

“Thanks sweetheart.” You winked at him, taking the bottle back and blinking up at him suggestively. “Want me to do you?”

Jeongin almost choked before he could control himself, managing just to nod and keep his mouth clamped shut. You smirked as you went about spraying him down, making sure to get every inch of his chest and back before recapping the sunblock. “Th-thanks (Y/n).”

“Anytime.” You winked at him again as you undid your hair, letting it billow around you in the wind. “Can I find you later when i’m ready to get sprayed down again?”

“Yeah, uh, sure.” He nodded, trying not to move his hands down to palm himself over his shorts. Holy fuck you were doing this to him on purpose.

“Time to go get wet.” You wiggled your brows at him before turning and heading off towards the water, leaving Jeongin standing there speechless and neck flaming.

He was either about to have the best, or worst day of his life watching you in this bikini, depending on how you looked at it.

__________________________________

Happy 200+ Followers Event!

Thank you all so much for the love and support on my works. Here’s a little treat to show my appreciation 🫶🏻 love youuuuuuuuu😘

~Noona🩷

banner made by @lausnotverybright 🥰

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svinz55 · 1 day ago

Text

¿cómo se dice…? (drabble)

you had been dating carlos for a year and a half. truthfully, it was the best year and a half of your life. honest. you loved everything about him. his perfect hair, his breathtaking eyes, his impeccable sense of humor, his ambition, his everything. carlos, likewise, loved everything about you. your bewitching smile, your enchanting laugh, your passion, your drive, everything, all of it.

one of the many things you adored about carlos was his accent. his perfect spanish accent. it was so sexy. carlos was a naturally seductive guy. most of it was just him but the rest of it was the spanish charm.

carlos knew this. he knew how you’d get spurred on when he was tipsy (drunk) and his accent would get slightly heavier. he knew how you’d ask him to repeat himself just to hear him talk. he knew how you’d have a visceral reaction every time he talked you through it. he was a very perceptive guy. he was always much more in tune with you than anyone else too. he noticed all of it.

so of course he knew what he was doing when he suggested teaching you spanish. it was late one night. the two of you just had a romantic, relaxing evening. you two cooked dinner (carlos cooked dinner, you sat on the counter, giggling and rambling). you were playing sade on vinyl. the two of you were drinking wine. it was a nice, intimate night.

the two of you had eaten and now you were just drinking and listening to music on the couch. carlos sprawled out and man-spreading obnoxiously and you perched in his lap as you talked.

“ay, mi vida,” (oh, my world) he spoke, his accent heavy with inebriation. “i should teach you spanish.”

he wasn’t just suggesting it to get a reaction out of you, he thought it’d be sweet to do together. you already spoke other languages too, learning one more wouldn’t be any trouble for you.

you smiled hazily. “you should. teach me something.”

“hmm,” he pondered for a moment. “okay, i’ll say something and you repeat it and then i’ll tell you what it means, how’s that sound, pretty girl?”

your nose and cheeks tinged pink at the pet name. “perfect.”

he craned his neck up and kissed the tip of your nose before falling back against the couch as you let out a giggle.

he began to slowly, patiently, teach you how to say basic words, phrases, and inside jokes between the two of you. you were a quick learner. he would say something and you’d repeat it hesitantly and carefully. he’d watch your lips intently, listening as you’d sound out beginnings. he paid close attention to the way your lips curled around the words.

“you’re not helping, you’re just staring at my lips,” you commented in jest after a little while. “i’m butchering so many words and you haven’t said a single thing.”

he pressed a chaste kiss to your reddish lips, stained by wine. “well, i don’t wanna be too hard on a beginner.”

you laughed, letting your head loll against his shoulder. “mhm. very funny. i’m intermediate at least.”

“yeah? si eres tan avanzado ¿qué estoy diciendo ahora?” (if you are so advanced, what am i saying now?) he quipped, giving you a smug look. “mi chica perfecta. te necesito tanto. sólo quiero besarte sin sentido.” (my perfect girl. i need you so much. i just want to kiss you senseless)

you rolled your eyes. “ha, ha. fine. maybe i’m not intermediate just yet.” you began to plant kisses all over his face. “c’mon, keep teaching me.”

“are you sure you won’t just forget everything in an hour?” he questioned sarcastically. you swatted at him.

“oh shut up,” you huffed jokingly. “don’t doubt my abilities as a student.” you eyed him skeptically. “you know, a teacher is only as good as their students.”

he laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “fine, fine. we’ll keep going.”

so he kept teaching you, speaking slowly and listening carefully, correcting you tenderly. there were a few particularly challenging words to pronounce that he coaxed you right through.

“there we go,” he remarked approvingly. “good girl. you got it.”

you looked down at him with slightly hooded lids as he continued to coax you through more words. both of you knew damn well all would be forgotten by morning but you were enjoying this. listening to him talk you through things, guide you through the words, rub his hands all over you while you precariously spoke, pressing kisses on you when you got things right.

eventually, you two closed out the lesson for that night.

“eso es todo por hoy. mi niña perfecta, lo hiciste muy bien. mi niña,” (that’s all for today. my perfect girl, you did very well. my girl) he swooned, burying his face in your neck.

“te amo, pretty boy,” (i love you) you murmured into his beautiful hair as you nuzzled your face closer to him.

“te amo, mi amor,” (i love you, my love) he replied as he held you.

#– vivi writes #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x fem!reader #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz jr x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula one

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lvlybin · 3 days ago

Note

uni bf!gunwook who enjoys marking up his s/o so people know that shes taken lowkey the kind that would stand behind her like a guard dog so no other guys would try to flirt with her i love possessive men

cw suggestive, marking, mentions of making out, possessive behavior

✉️ this is so childhood best friend to lovers coded lowkey

“So, what? You’re saying no more neck kisses?” Gunwook pouts at you from where he’s sat on your bed. Your roommate is out and about, something about studying at the campus café or whatever, so it’s just you and your boyfriend tucked away in your dorm room on a Friday night. Neither of you necessarily had any plans for the night, just cuddles and relaxing in each other’s presence. Well, those were his plans. On the other hand, you had a few different things to do. Particularly, hounding him about the teeth marks that littered your very visible neck.

You let out a small groan as you exit the suite bathroom, having finished changing into a matching pajama set that Gunwook had gotten you the last time you went shopping together. “These are not neck kisses, Wook, these are vampire bites.”

Somehow his pout deepens. The sight makes you want to scream in frustration and kiss all over his cute cheeks at the same time.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Oh yes you freaking did, you think to yourself. You understood getting caught up in the heat of makeout sessions (something that happened to you frequently), but these strategically placed marks were not any kind of freak accident. No, not when Gunwook knew that you tended to rest your hand on that part of your jaw/neck to hold your head up, which meant that your concealer would stand no chance.

You flop down onto your bed, Gunwook already opening his arms for you to tuck yourself into his chest. Trying not to focus on how his biceps seem bigger than they did last week, you continue. “My freaking lab partner in bio asked me if I was okay when he saw these.”

“Good. He didn’t get the message that you were taking when I picked you up from class last week.”

Your stomach flips. “You mean when you interrupted our conversation by pretty much flexing behind me to scare him off?” He smirks, like he’s proud of himself, and you have to stop yourself from laughing too. You were trying to scold him, not encourage his behavior. “Don’t take part in pissing contests; they contribute to toxic masculinity.”

His fingers run over your arm gently, knowing you’d probably ask him for back scratches next after the caresses. “There isn’t any kind of contest. You’re mine.” You tilt your chin up at him, sending him a small glare. He chuckles. “Trying to intimidate me?”

“I’m serious, Gunwook, I don’t have enough makeup to keep covering these up.”

“Then I’ll just buy you more.” Another pointed look from you. He groans and taps your arm, a signal for you to sit up a little. When you do, he’s shifting his body over yours, covering you and resting his head on your chest. Probably listening to your heartbeat as one of his hands grabs yours to guide it to his hair. Spoiled. “Alright, fine, no more vampire bites.”

“Thank you,” you mumble to him.

Gunwook’s quiet for another moment, then a grin spreads over his lips again. You furrow your eyebrows as he plants a kiss to where your pajama top has slipped to expose your collarbones.

“How about I mark you up somewhere else, then?”

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pillowgazed · 3 days ago

Note

Hiiii so I just started reading on tumblr and your blog popped up on my feed and I really like you’re writing I wanted to ask if you could maybe write a fic with Peachy!Reader x CEO!Rafe where she like comes into his office because something happened and he’s in a meeting and she apologizes and wants to leave but he’s all like nah stay and says to the guys in the meeting that they should get out

I’m sorry that that’s so long I’m not good in Englisch I’m from Prag and if you won’t write it it’s okay love u 💗

A/n: Hi angel!! Firstly,don’t apologize English isn’t my first language either,no harm in that—Thank you so much for this suggestion,i had a great time writing it and i hope this fic meets your expectations<3 Sending hugs ⋆˚࿔ loveu2!!

| OFFICE RULES™

Peachy!Reader X CEO!Rafe

Walking around in your apron with a smile on your face as you decorated your milkshakes,just a normal day at the diner— until you got a call, confused by the sudden ring—you looked at the screen only to see “NO CALLER ID” plastered across it. Urging yourself to answer as your voice replied to the ting!.

“hello?” You murmured into the phone,waiting for the other line to answer back,in which came in a few seconds later— “good afternoon ma’am!,we’re calling from the-“

“I know.” Your voice turned stern—“i’ll pay the bills this week or the next week,i’m getting the rest of the money at the end of the month.” You waited for the next words,which was what you predicted.

“I’m sorry ma’am,but the status shows that,if you don’t cover the cost,we may have to close up the property,which is your diner.” the receptionist replied with a hint of apology but remained firm.

your heart clenched,this was your end? the diner was working slow these past few months due to heavy rain—but you swore you had some money saved up for the coverage,only to remember you used it up for some house repairing.

Swearing under your breath—you could feel hot tears welling up as you sighed,muttering a little “understood.” Into the speaker and hanging up,—sniffling as you stared at the empty wall.

you needed some air,no—you needed him. You needed Rafe. Sending a quick text message to his number as you grabbed your coat and an umbrella,closing up your already emptied diner as you were walking down into the subway.

The phone service weakened in the subway as you waited for a reply,everything around you was annoying you—your coat being buttoned up to the top—your umbrella being weirdly held as you huffed through frustrated tears.

After a few stops you walked out of the station—looking up to the luxurious building which was labeled with a large sign — “CAMERON INDUSTRIES” on top of it, walking in through a revolving door—you knew what floor Rafe’s office was on,clicking the 9 in golden as the elevator went up.

and much to your surprise,—walking in like a child denied candy with your puffy eyes and a red nose from the cold,you were met with the faces of the people you never met.

“shit.”

yeah,did you really just walk into his meeting?. Yes you did.

And as if your own swearing surprised you,you glanced at Rafe who already had a worried look on his face,and before he could stand up-you were faster and started talking first.

“I’m so sorry,i-i think i got the wrong floor,please excuse me” you quickly rambled and tried to leave,only to find a gentle tug on your waist—pulling you to the corner of the room.

“hey-hey it’s okay baby,what got you into this mood,what happened?” Rafe whispered as he cupped your face,wiping your tears with his thumbs as you sniffled more at the soft contact.

That was the cue.

“Meeting’s over.”

“but sir we haven’t even discussed-“

“Did I stutter?out. Everyone.” He rumbled and you stared with guilt as the filled room now was empty,already glancing back at him—falling into his chest with a sob.

“Hey,peach,’m here baby,i got you” he murmured and pulled you closer,placing his chin on your head,and rubbing your back.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” rafe asked gently,only to be met with a sad shake of a head,nodding understandably,—“‘s okay,whenever you feel like it yeah?”

You nodded into his chest,finally looking at him with your eyes as his expression softened,leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s sit down alright?”

You sniffled along,letting him pull you down to sit on his lap,immediately curling up and wrapping your arms around his neck,—

“hey,look at me” he pressed on gently,his eyes tracing your face.

“talk to me baby,whatever it is,your problem is my problem.”

your heart fluttered.

Finally mustering some energy to respond—“are you sure?”

“it’s you. I’m sure.”

And that was it.

You told him everything,the unpaid bills—the too many little envelopes which had “NOTICE” on them in red ink.

in which he listened throughout the conversation,and when you ended the talk—you were met with a kiss. A soft,gentle kiss.

A type of kiss that reassured you that maybe everything would be alright again,maybe it would change for the better,kissing him back with equal gentleness as you caressed his lips after pulling back—

“why didn’t you tell me about this from the beginning peach?” Rafe tsk’ed quietly but sighed when you hesitantly caressed him.

“I just didn’t want to bother you,or make it seem like i was only running to you for some money-“ you started off guilty again,only to be stopped by a shake of his head.

“You’re never bothering me baby,i’m happy that you’re coming to me,it means i’m doing something right for once,and i’m not letting go of this, of us,‘ya hearing me?” he questioned gently.

“Us..” that word got you caving every time.

“you and me peach,we’re in this together, baby.” He said and pressed a string of kisses alongside your neck—moving up to your cheek,and finally your lips again.

unknowingly you smiled into it,heart feeling lighter than before—

“There’s my girl,god i’d do anything just to get you to smile.” his words melted your heart as you pressed your forehead against his.

“i know,you’re worried,but you’re never bothering me,and i’ll handle this ‘s alright pretty girl,just need you and your pink milkshakes to keep me happy.” Giggling softly to his words as he pressed kisses against your cheek—sighing quietly and pulling you close.

“We’ll be alright.”

And you believed him,and maybe he was right,for once,you were taken care of,loved and seen by someone who you equally loved.

And that was the most important part.

Written by: @pillowgazed Est. 2025

A/n: likes and reblogs are appreciated!<3

Tags🏷️: @bebebambs @cordeliamarie33

Comment on my taglist to be added!🗞️

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dayasfilms · 3 days ago

Text

Chapter Five - Professional

Summary: You and Steve finally start working on your presentation, and to your surprise, he’s not the worst person to work with. For a moment, it feels like things might actually be okay between you two. Just when things start to look up, one phone call is all it takes for you to end up snapping before you can stop yourself.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of Y/N, mostly Luxe and Steve centered, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, fake friends, emotional betrayal, communication issues, kissing, slight car breakdown, bullying between friends, sabotage, cheating on project accusations, Robin and Eddie scheming, mild language, emotional vulnerability, embarrassment, Luxe and Steve being clueless

Word Count: 6.8k

Note: Ahhh, they’re so clueless it’s so cute. This chapter is kind of mostly focused on Luxe and Steve so hope you all like it!

Series Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

You were already seated in Steve’s office when he walked in, coffee in one hand and bag in the other. The sunlight was spilling through the windows, making the room brighter. Steve raised a brow when he saw you, surprised you were early. “Look who’s punctual.”

You didn’t bother looking up from your laptop. “Well, you said be professional. I’m doing just that.”

Steve’s lips pressed into a flat line, corners subtly pulled down like he didn’t quite know how to react. He walked over and dropped his bag on the floor beside his desk before taking the seat across from you. “Fair enough.”

Without waiting for him to say anything else, you turned your screen to show him the draft outline you’d made. “I started sketching out the framework for our presentation,” you said, showing him the document. “I broke it down into five parts, and even added a section on how sustainable practices could influence long term consumer response.”

Steve’s lips parted in shock. “Oh.”

You finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I just…didn’t expect for you to have done all that.”

Your tone was dry. “Because I’m a rich brat, right?”

He shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t say that…”

“Mhm.”

The two of you stared at each other in complete silence for a few moments. Your lips twitched, tempted to curl into a smirk at the look on his face. He had been so sure you didn’t know what you were doing, but here you were, proving him wrong. Without a word, you turned your laptop back toward you and resumed typing.

Steve didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think you were actually going to come in prepared, let alone outpace him like it was no big deal. When you first got hired, all he saw were the expensive clothes and pretty face. He figured you had no idea what you were doing because you probably had someone do all the work for you at your previous job.

But watching you work now, so focused on the task at hand, shutting down every doubt he didn’t even realize he was still holding onto, it was messing with his head. You were organized and professional. You knew what you were doing. Perhaps he judged you way too hard before giving you a chance.

For the next three hours, the two of you worked through the project outline, surprisingly in sync. Steve made suggestions, you offered ideas, and the two of you pushed them further. As you kept working, Steve found himself genuinely impressed.

You ignored the way he was looking at you, like he was noticing something new. Instead, you clicked to the next section. “Let’s go over our roles. I can take care of the visual concepts and layout design. You handle the financial logistics.”

“Cool, cool. So I’m the boring one,” he chuckled, his eyes on you.

You didn’t smile. “Sure.”

He hummed. “Alright.”

You stood up and started gathering your things. “I have to finish up another spreadsheet. I’ll finish the presentation mockup tonight.”

“You’re going back to your desk?” He asked, standing too. “It’s lunchtime right now. We may as well grab something to eat.”

You zipped your laptop bag and furrowed your brows. “We?”

He smirked. “Yeah, you and me. I know a good spot just down the street. They’ve got these incredible sandwiches. We deserve a break after all that work. And no, I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Before you could reply, he was already heading toward the door. You rolled your eyes but felt your lips twitch slightly, like a smile was trying to break through. Without thinking much, you grabbed your purse and stepped out, falling into step beside him.

The streets weren’t usually busy in Hawkins, unlike Braiser where it was buzzing every second of the day. You never really took the time to take in the small town, but as you followed Steve down the road, you found yourself actually noticing details around you for the first time.

When you arrived, Steve held the door open like a proper gentleman. Unlike yesterday, when he almost slammed the door in your face when you followed him into his office. You realized you were watching him a little too long before shaking your head and stepping inside.

The café was small but cozy, filled with the smell of fresh bread and roasted coffee. The afternoon light came in through the windows, casting a warm glow on the wooden tables. You stood in line beside Steve, eyes flicking up to the menu board overhead. There were a bunch of sandwich choices, and your mouth was already starting to water.

Steve nudged you lightly. “If you’re thinking about trying something, the roasted veggie wrap’s my favorite.”

You nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I think I’m going for the grilled chickpea sandwich. It’s calling my name.”

“That’s a good one,” Steve said, nodding approvingly. “I’ll stick with the roasted veggie wrap then. And iced tea for drinks.”

You glanced at the drinks section. “I suppose I’ll take the iced tea too.”

You and Steve reached the register after scanning the menu overhead. Steve went first.

“I’ll have the roasted veggie wrap and an iced tea,” he told the cashier, flashing a quick grin.

You cleared your throat, stepping up next. “I’ll take the grilled chickpea sandwich and iced tea, please.”

Reaching into your purse for your wallet, you pulled it out, ready to pay for your own food. But before you could even get your card out, Steve slid his card across the counter. “For both, please.”

“Wait, Steve,” you said, frowning as you paused mid-motion. “You don’t have to do that. I can pay for myself.”

He turned to you, raising an eyebrow with a lopsided grin. “Sure you can, but I got it.”

You gave him a look. “Why?”

He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I was the one who brought you here. Plus, I’m a gentleman. I’m not letting the lady pay.”

You scoffed. “Because you’ve been such a gentleman these past few days.”

Steve let out a short laugh. “Wow, I’m wounded.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile as the cashier handed over your drinks and receipts. Steve grabbed both drinks and started walking toward an open table near the window.

You followed after him, shooting a glare at his back. “I’m paying next time.”

“Oh, so there’s a next time?” He said over his shoulder, that smug grin making a comeback.

Your cheeks burned before you could stop them. You hadn’t really thought about what you were saying, you just sort of blurted it out.

Steve glanced back at you, clearly enjoying your silence. “Guess you’ll just have to outrun me to the counter if you want to pay.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond, sliding into the seat across from him. He passed your drink over without a word, and you took it, focusing on the lid like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

You didn’t know why you said that. ‘Next time’ implied there would be one, but you knew there wouldn’t. This wasn’t anything. You were just two coworkers working together on a project. You didn’t like each other. He hated you and you hated him.

Before the silence could turn awkward, the cashier called your order number. Steve stood, stretching slightly. “I’ll grab them,” he said, already walking toward the counter.

You watched him go, a weird flutter in your chest taking over. You shook your head, taking a sip of your ice tea as you waited for him to return. It was just sandwiches. You were two coworkers getting lunch. It’s not a big deal.

Steve came back to the table and sat down, placing your sandwich in front of you before unwrapping his own. He leaned back in his seat, that familiar grin tugging at his lips.

“So,” he said, taking a bite. “Do you always glare at people who buy you food, or am I just special?”

You raised a brow, unwrapping your sandwich with exaggerated care. “I only glare at the ones who do it without asking.”

“You looked like you were about to make a run for it. I had to be quick,” he joked.

“I wasn’t going to run,” you said, scoffing at his comment. “I have dignity.”

“Sure you do,” he said, nodding seriously.

You huffed, pointing a finger at him. “You’re lucky I’m hungry.”

He grinned wider. “God forbid someone tries to do something nice.”

“You and nice? Don’t make me laugh.” You chewed slowly, trying not to let your smile linger too long.

“Okay, rude.”

“This is good,” you mumbled through a bite, hoping a change of subject would steer your brain away from how nice his eyes looked when he smiled. Wait, what—?

“Told you this place was good.” Steve nodded in agreement, sipping his drink. “Way better than those sad vending machine chocolate covered pretzels you were about to subject yourself to.”

“Those pretzels are actually good!” You defended.

“I’m surprised you like those,” he said, grinning. “I figured rich girls went for those fancy health bars with five ingredients.”

You scoffed. “You and your stereotypes.”

“I mean, come on,” he teased. “You’re the type of girl who probably says she only eats air.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, laughing. “You think you’re so funny.”

“I know I’m funny,” Steve said proudly. “Next you’re gonna tell me you actually eat real food. Whatever that means.”

“Watch it, Harrington,” you warned playfully. “I’ve got half a sandwich left and I’m not afraid to weaponize it.”

“Hey,” he said, pointing at you with his sandwich. “I’m not just pulling this out of my ass. I’ve met people who treat almonds like a full course meal.”

You snorted into your cup and tried to cover it up, but Steve caught it and gave you a victorious grin. He looked way too proud of himself.

However, you suddenly paused, thinking over his words again. “Wait, how do you know that?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Hm? Know what?”

“That I get the chocolate covered pretzels from the vending machines.”

For a split second, his eyes widened just enough, and you only caught it because you’d been paying close attention. But before you could say anything, he cleared his throat and changed the subject. “You know, I haven’t really gotten to know you since you moved here, Luxe. This seems like as good a time as any.”

You hesitated, the flutter in your chest growing, but you brushed it off with a nod. “Yeah, I guess.”

He looked at you thoughtfully for a moment, thinking back to what you told him at the bar that night. “So…why’d you move here, anyway? Braiser to Hawkins is a pretty big change.”

You swallowed and gave a tight-lipped smile. “Something happened back home. Nothing I really want to talk about.” You didn’t say more, but your tone was clear.

Steve noticed the way your smile tightened, how your whole demeanor shifted the moment he asked. He remembered that night at the bar when you’d snapped at him, saying everything in your life had been ripped away because of someone else’s mistake. After you stormed off, a pang of guilt settled in and all those assumptions he’d made about you suddenly felt unfair. He was curious to know more, but he didn’t push further.

After a second, you decided to throw the question back. “What about you? You’ve been here forever, right? What made you stick around and not just move somewhere else?”

He shrugged casually, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Honestly? It’s home. Not just the town, but the people. If I don’t have a reason to leave, I don’t see why I’d want to.”

You felt a flicker of envy at his words. If you didn’t have a reason, you’d still be in Braiser too. That place was your home, and it still is, even if you aren’t there anymore. You’d left everything behind to come here, and deep down, you still hoped you might go back someday. You didn’t want to move away. Listening to Steve talk about home made you realize how lucky he was.

Steve noticed how you suddenly went quiet, your gaze drifting away from the table. He decided to switch gears, steering away from the topic of home. Leaning in slightly, arms crossed on the table, he gave you a teasing look. “Well, I guess I’ve been a little judgmental since we met. So, what does the rich girl like to do when she’s not working?”

You smirked, folding your arms, matching his casual tone. “Is that your polite way of asking what I do for fun?”

He chuckled, nodding. “Exactly. Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

You thought for a second, then shrugged. “I like the usual stuff. Hanging out with friends, going shopping, trying new foods…”

“And you wonder why I was being stereotypical?” Steve laughed, shaking his head.

You gave him a sly smile. “I didn’t say I was finished, tough guy.”

He leaned back, waiting for you to continue.

You thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I also like something quieter. Like going to art galleries or wandering through secondhand bookstores. It’s a good way to clear my head.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “That’s…not what I expected.”

You glanced down at the table for a moment, memories flickering behind your eyes. Quickly, you shook your head and met his gaze again. “What about you?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “I’m a pretty simple guy. I like going for long drives, listening to old records.” He paused, debating whether or not he should continue. “Don’t laugh…but I’ve got a thing for gardening. It’s kinda like therapy.”

You smiled softly, surprised by how genuine he sounded. “Gardening?”

“I regret telling you now,” he sighed, running a hand down his face.

“Wait, no, I’m not laughing!” You said quickly, a bigger smile forming. “I think that’s cool.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But…?”

“But you don’t seem like that type of guy,” you finished, shrugging. “I don’t know. I feel like you’d be the type who says gardening is too girly.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, look who’s judging now.” His eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re the one I pegged as the girl who probably thinks plants are just decorations, not something you get your hands dirty with.”

You raised an eyebrow, matching his smirk. “And yet here we are, both proving each other wrong.”

“Yeah?” He questioned. “You know a thing or two about gardening?”

You nodded, the corner of your mouth twitching into a softer smile. “I used to help my parents in their garden when I was younger. I always loved it. There’s something about watching them grow after putting in all that effort.” You then looked away, fiddling with your fingers. “I’ve always loved the idea of receiving a bouquet of hand-picked flowers. Not the kind you buy at a store, but the kind someone takes the time to pick from their own garden…I don’t know. It feels more personal, you know? My dad used to do that — go out to the garden and pick flowers just to surprise my mom. I always thought that was kind of sweet.”

Steve said nothing, just stared at you with a quiet, genuine admiration that caught him off guard. He hadn’t expected this from you. Not someone he’d assumed was a spoiled rich girl who only cared about the surface of things. But sitting here now, listening to you talk about something as simple and honest as gardening, it made him realize how wrong he’d been. You weren’t what he thought you were. There’s more to you than he realized and he’d been too quick to judge.

His silence went on for longer than you expected. You finally looked up and noticed the softness in his eyes, the way he was watching you with something you couldn’t quite figure out, and it made your heart flutter in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You cleared your throat. “Uh, Steve, you good?”

Steve blinked, suddenly pulled back to the present. He glanced at his watch and let out a breath. “Oh wow, has it really been an hour? We should probably head back before they start wondering where we disappeared to.”

He stood up, running a hand through his hair, still feeling the strange mix of feelings for you that he couldn’t quite place. As he looked back at you, his usual smirk was gone, and replaced by a genuine smile. You rose as well, brushing off your skirt and grabbing your purse.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. There was something about the way the afternoon light made your face glow. He realized, not for the first time, that you were pretty. There was this kind of effortless grace about you. The way you talked with confidence, the way you walked with purpose, the way you held your head high.

Steve couldn’t help but notice the little things. How your hair caught the light just right, the way your lips twitched into a smile when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes grew bigger when you talked about something you liked.

You were beautiful. And your smile, when you weren’t busy glaring at him, lit up the whole room without trying—

He shook his head, forcing himself to snap out of it. Where were these thoughts coming from? You were just a coworker. His annoying, bratty coworker who he couldn’t stand.

But as he followed you out, there was this strange tug inside him. Something that was trying to tell him otherwise.

Heather sat next to Carol, Tina, and Vicky, chatting casually. They mentioned something about the weekend, but she wasn’t paying much attention.

“Can you believe they want us to work overtime this weekend? Like, who even does that anymore?” Tina complained, rolling her eyes.

Carol groaned. “Right? I have plans. Big plans. I have a date with that guy I told you guys about.”

Vicky smirked. “Oh! He’s a cutie. Good for you!”

Heather nodded, trying to join in but her mind wandered. She wasn’t really thinking about work, but more about the text she got from Billy earlier.

As if on cue, Billy appeared nearby, making his way toward the group. Tina spotted him first and called out with that sickly sweet tone. “Hi, Mr. Hargrove! What are you doing over here? Shouldn’t you be at your office?”

Billy’s grin widened, his eyes immediately locking on Heather. “I am, but I wanted to grab Heather for a minute. There’s something important I need to discuss with her.”

Heather’s face lit up instantly, her cheeks flushing as she stood. She stumbled over her words, trying to keep it professional. “Uh, yes, r–right. Of course, Mr. Hargrove.”

The group exchanged quick glances, their expressions sharpening as they caught the change in Heather’s demeanor. As Heather and Billy started walking away together, Carol leaned closer to the others, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, what the hell?”

Tina smirked, barely able to hide her amusement. “Going after your best friend’s ex? That’s some next level drama.”

Vicky added, folding her arms with a knowing look. “And I’ve never heard Billy call her Heather before. It’s always been Ms. Holloway.”

Carol laughed, a little too loudly. “Oh, she’s such a snake. Y/N’s gone, and now she’s sleeping with her ex. How comical.”

Tina gave a slow clap. “Seriously. I almost feel bad for Y/N…almost.”

Carol tapped a finger to her chin, a sly smile spreading across her face. “Just imagine if someone happened to let the truth slip to Y/N…how devastating that would be.”

Vicky let out a light giggle. “I mean, I’d want to know if my ex and my best friend were sneaking around behind my back.”

Tina leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smirk. “Ladies, I think we know exactly what needs to be done.”

Vicky twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “But didn’t Y/N change her number after she moved?”

Carol waved her hand dismissively. “Please. That can be managed. People always talk. Someone knows where to find her.”

Meanwhile, Heather stepped into Billy’s office, the door clicking shut behind her. She leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching as he walked over to his desk to scribble something down before finally looking up at her.

“So you wanted to see me?” She teased lightly.

Billy smirked, tossing the pen aside. “Yeah. I wanted to thank you for agreeing to come to the gala with me. As my date.”

Heather’s expression softened. “It’s not a problem. I know you were supposed to take Y/N originally.”

Billy’s jaw tightened for a moment, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Yeah, well…I don’t want to talk about her.”

Heather opened her mouth to say something, but before the words could form, he was already crossing the space between them. His hand found her waist, pulling her close, and she didn’t resist. Instead, she leaned into him, familiar now with the way he kissed her when he was trying to distract himself from you. Their lips met, slow at first, before deepening into something heavier. His mouth moved against hers with practiced ease. She kissed him back just as easily, tilting her head and letting his fingers tighten at her side.

When they finally pulled apart, Heather’s breathing was slightly uneven. Her fingers drifted down the front of his shirt, tugging gently at a loose thread.

“Isn’t this fucked?” She whispered, looking up at him. “It’s only been a week since she left.”

“I know,” Billy said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just…Can we not talk about her anymore?”

Heather nodded, lips brushing his again. “Okay.”

And just like that, he kissed her again.

It was now late evening, the sun dipping low behind the buildings. The parking lot was nearly empty as everyone had already left for the day. You’d stayed behind to finish up some work, not wanting to fall behind on the presentation.

You made your way over to the car Leslie had sent over for you, finally relieved you didn’t have to walk all the way home again. The day had been long enough already.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you inserted the key into the ignition and turned. The car sputtered once, then let out a low groan before it went silent. You frowned and tried again. The same thing happened.

You dropped your head back against the headrest with a frustrated sigh. Of course, it was just your luck. You were about to try again when a sudden knock on your window made you jump so hard your knee hit the steering wheel. You snapped your head toward the sound, only to see Steve peering in with one hand raised like he hadn’t just scared you half to death.

With a groan, you pushed the door open since the window didn’t roll down. You climbed out, glaring up at him. “Seriously?”

Steve grinned. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Luxe.” He leaned forward slightly, eyebrows knitting. “Everything alright? You look like you’re about to commit a murder.”

“The car won’t start,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you looked back at it. “But I’m sure it’s fine.”

“I can give you a ride,” he offered, surprisingly sincere. “I’m parked right over there.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Thanks, but I’d rather take my chances with this glorified tin can than be stuck in a confined space with you again.”

“Ouch.” Steve clutched his chest theatrically. “You always find a way to wound me.”

You began to get in again, clearly done with the conversation, but he didn’t move. Instead, he took a deliberate step closer, planting one hand on the roof of your car, the other on the doorframe. His body caged you in, not letting you move.

“What ever happened to personal space?” You muttered, your voice quieter than you intended as you looked up at him.

His eyes flicked over your face, lingering for just a second too long. There was something different in the way he was looking at you,

You found your own eyes drifting over his features. The way his jaw clenched just slightly, the faint stubble lining his chin, and those eyes that somehow managed to look both serious and teasing all at once. It was distracting, and for a moment, you forgot why you were annoyed.

Then, his mouth curled into that insufferable smirk again. “You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna think you actually like me.”

You scoffed, pushing him away from you and getting back into the car. “I think you’ve inhaled too much of that hairspray you use for your hair.”

This time, when you turned the key, the engine miraculously started.

You looked at him with a smirk, rolling down your window. “Huh. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me to stay away from you.”

He stepped back with a chuckle, hands raised in surrender. “Or maybe it just didn’t want to strand me alone with you. Can’t say I blame it.”

You didn’t say anything else, rolling your window back up. You threw the car into reverse, pulled out of the parking space, and began driving off. Though, you couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror, his hands in his pockets, watching you go, and laughing to himself. And, against your better judgment, you smiled.

A few days passed in a blur as you continued to work on your project with Steve. You still weren’t sure how you ended up not hating the time you spent with him, but perhaps it was because he actually listened when you talked without dismissing you. He still made smug little comments that made you want to throw a pen at his forehead, but surprisingly, you didn’t really mind him much.

He was surprisingly easy to work with…when he wasn’t trying to rile you up, of course.

It was like the other groups had vanished. Everyone was too caught up in perfecting their presentations to bother socializing. You were especially surprised you hadn’t seen Robin or Eddie around the past few days.

Well, until now.

You stepped out of the breakroom and immediately spotted Robin and Eddie lingering in the hallway. Their voices were louder than usual, the kind of loud people use when they want someone to overhear their conversation.

“I just think color themes are so overdone,” Robin said, waving her hand dramatically. “Like, okay, we get it. You know how to match.”

“Oh, totally,” Eddie nodded, eyes wide with fake sincerity. “Minimal effort is the new maximalism. Honestly, if you focus too much on aesthetics, you’re probably just trying to distract from weak content.”

You narrowed your eyes as you walked past them, clearly the target of their very subtle performance. It was almost funny, how obvious they were trying to be.

Robin glanced your way like she was just now noticing you. “Oh hey, Y/N! Didn’t see you there! Did you and dingus start your slides yet?”

“Keep it simple,” Eddie added, crossing his arms. “No need to stress over color palettes or fonts or, God forbid, those awful transitions.”

Steve then walked up behind you. He took one look at Robin and Eddie and immediately rolled his eyes. “Don’t you two have anything better to do than try to sabotage other presentations?”

“We prefer the term strategic influencing,” Robin said with a grin.

“I know for a fact you’re only saying it because you’re doing exactly what you’re claiming is terrible so you can win the competition,” Steve deadpanned.

Robin grinned mischievously. “Oh, come on, dingus. Afraid of a little competition? Maybe you’re scared your presentation won’t stand a chance against ours.”

Eddie laughed, clearly teasing. “Yeah, Steve, maybe you’re just salty because we’ve won the last four times.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, and he snapped. “You know what? Maybe I’m just tired of you two clowns cheating your way through and never facing any consequences.”

Eddie scoffed, crossing his arms. “Uh, there’s no proof that we actually cheat.”

Steve huffed, shook his head, and walked away. You watched him go, and you could clearly tell he was frustrated by the entire interaction.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “What’s up his ass?”

Eddie chuckled, glancing at you. “Sorry you have to work with Mr. Manchild, sweets.”

You stepped forward, arms crossed, feeling a flicker of sympathy for Steve. If what he said was true, that Robin and Eddie had been cheating, then you could see why he was so frustrated. You wouldn’t put it past them. “Maybe he’s not the child here,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “He’s actually working his ass off while you two just stand around making jokes.”

You turned and followed after Steve, your heels clicking against the floor. The two of them watched you leave, their jaws dropped in shock. Robin did a double take, then looked at Eddie. “Since when did she defend Harrington?”

Eddie’s eyes stayed glued to you as you disappeared down the hall. He looked genuinely concerned. “Okay, maybe our super secret plan to make them hate one another isn’t working.” His eyes then widened, turning to Robin. “It’s supposed to work, Buckley! We have to win this thing! They’re supposed to argue, not bond!”

Robin grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a dramatic shake. “Pull it together, Munson! Don’t go soft on me now!”

“I think I feel feelings,” Eddie whispered, horrified.

Robin gasped. “No! That’s the enemy talking!”

Eddie put his hands on his face. “The betrayal! The guilt! The mild abdominal cramping!”

“Get it together, soldier!” Robin yelled, slapping his cheeks lightly. “We cheat with honor!”

You found Steve in his office, arms crossed, pacing behind his desk like he was about to launch a formal complaint with HR, or really, Nancy. For someone you were supposed to find infuriating, it was kind of unsettling seeing him like this. You were supposed to dislike Steve Harrington. He was uptight and judgmental, seemingly making up his mind about you from the start. Though, perhaps that has changed since the two of you began working together.

You couldn’t help but admit that there was something undeniably magnetic about him, and it annoyed the hell out of you that your brain even noticed.

He looked up when you stepped in, but said nothing. He squinted his eyes at you, as if silently asking why you were here. You bit your lip, surprising even yourself when you defended him. He didn’t need to know that though.

You closed the door behind you, eyes locking with his. Something in your chest tugged before you could stop it. “Um, are you okay?”

The words felt foreign, like they’d escaped your mouth without permission. He looked up, genuinely stunned, and now you felt like the world’s biggest idiot, instantly regretting saying anything at all.

Steve was trying to process whether you’d just grown a second head. You were asking if he was okay? What was happening? He stared at you, convinced there had to be a punchline coming. But you just stood there, looking genuinely concerned, and it threw him off more than he cared to admit. “Did you just ask if I’m okay?”

You shrugged. “No. That was the wind.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Real windy in this room.”

You sighed and took a step forward. “I don’t know…you just seemed pissed.”

Steve scoffed, but the edge in his expression softened just slightly. “That’s because I am pissed. They always get away with their crap, and somehow I’m the one who ends up looking like the unhinged lunatic.”

You tilted your head and couldn’t help but giggle. “You kind of do have unhinged lunatic energy.”

Steve pointed at you. “Take that back!”

You shook your head in amusement before your voice softened. “But…they were being jerks. And if they’re actually cheating, then yeah…I’d be mad too.”

Steve looked at you for a second, his eyes narrowing like he was trying to figure you out. Your concern caught him off guard. It wasn’t sarcastic or forced, but it sounded genuine. It made his stomach twist a little, but not in a bad way. He didn’t know what to say, so he just gave a small nod.

You shifted, suddenly aware of how quiet the room had gotten. Letting out a breath, you turned for the door. “Well, I’ll be going then.”

“Wait,” Steve called, making you stop. You glanced back at him. “I appreciate that,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’m just…not used to people asking me that question. So if I acted like a jerk, I’m sorry.”

You didn’t show it on your face, but you understood exactly what he meant. No one ever really asked if you were okay either. You’d learned to keep it all in, to swallow it all and carry on like everything was fine, even when it wasn’t. That was just how it had always been.

The irony wasn’t lost on you. Steve Harrington, of all people, with his tight-knit group of friends and his golden boy charm, feeling the same kind of alone that you did. It was almost funny.

You gave a quick nod. “Okay.”

With that, you turned and walked out, leaving the door to click softly behind you. It wasn’t that you didn’t care, because you probably did more than you should. But words have never come easy for you, not when it came to emotions. You didn’t like showing your vulnerable side, and you’d spent too many years convincing yourself that staying silent was safer.

You grabbed a stack of files you’d just finished, unrelated to the current project, and headed for Nancy’s office, hoping the walk would clear your head. Your thoughts were spiraling, tangled with things you didn’t feel like thinking about. You didn’t even bother knocking when you reached her door, arms full of folders she’d asked for earlier.

“Hey, Nance, I got those—” You froze.

Nancy was perched on the edge of her desk, one hand curled gently around the collar of Jonathan’s shirt as he leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t anything scandalous, it was a soft action. Your breath hitched before you could stop it.

Both of them turned sharply at the sound of the door, eyes wide like they’d forgotten they weren’t the only two people on Earth. Nancy stood up a little too quickly, adjusting her blouse like that would erase the moment. Jonathan took a step back, running a hand through his hair, visibly flustered.

“Oh,” you said, frozen halfway into the room. Your face burned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in—”

“It’s fine,” Nancy interrupted quickly, trying to keep her tone light as she smoothed invisible wrinkles. “Really. Totally fine.”

Jonathan offered you a small, sheepish grin as he moved to leave. But before he could step past you, your brain finally caught up with your eyes.

“Oh!” You said, looking back and forth between them. “Nancy’s your wife!”

Nancy laughed softly. Jonathan chuckled under his breath, glancing back at her with such loving eyes it was sickening.

“Yup,” he said, still smiling at her before his gaze landed back on you.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, shaking your head as you walked forward and placed the stack of files on Nancy’s desk. “I should’ve knocked, but my hands were full.”

Nancy gave a soft laugh and waved it off like it was no big deal. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. Everyone’s allowed to make a mistake every once in a while.”

You glanced at Jonathan, then back at her, your eyes lingering for a second longer. “I should’ve realized it when you said she was in the industry. You two were always close. I don’t know why it never clicked.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Well, I thought it was obvious. We’re not exactly subtle.”

You cracked a small smile despite the embarrassment curling in your stomach. “I’ll make sure to knock before barging in next time.”

Nancy gave you a reassuring grin, and Jonathan offered a soft chuckle before nodding at you and slipping out of the office. You followed soon after, your cheeks still burning as you walked down the hallway. You sighed, shaking it off. Then your phone suddenly started ringing.

You instinctively reached for it, grateful for the sudden distraction. But when you looked at the screen, your brows furrowed. It was an unknown number. You hesitated before answering. “Hello?”

A familiar voice spoke, one that was always so sweet and too fake. It made your spine stiffen. “Y/N? Oh my god, is this really you?”

You blinked. “Tina?”

“Wow, you actually picked up!” She laughed, like you were two friends catching up and not whatever the hell you were now. “I had to ask around to find your new number!”

You didn’t answer, already regretting picking up the call.

“So,” Tina dragged the word out. “Sorry for not checking in sooner! You had to move or whatever after what happened with your uncle. You’re like, somewhere else now? Where do you live?”

“What do you want, Tina?” You asked flatly.

“Ooh,” she said with a fake pout in her voice. “Relax, I’m just checking in. Don’t be so cold. I mean, I know things got messy after…everything.”

Your jaw tightened. After the scandal, after she and the others ghosted you like your friendship had meant nothing, after they all just threw you away like trash, Tina didn’t get to check in.

She continued anyway, her voice making your ears hurt. “Anyway, I just thought you’d wanna know… since I’m assuming no one’s told you yet.”

“Told me what?” You asked cautiously, frowning.

“Well,” Tina said with a sigh, like she hated being the bearer of bad news. “Heather and Billy are a thing now. Like, officially. And before you ask, yes, that Heather, and yes, your Billy. Isn’t that just wild?”

You froze in the middle of the hallway. Heather. Billy. Together.

You weren’t even in love with him, but Heather had been your best friend. Someone who should’ve known better. She didn’t know you weren’t in love with him, but she still went behind your back, thinking you did love him.

Tina kept talking like she hadn’t just shoved a knife in your back. “I mean, I thought maybe she’d wait a little longer, but hey, guess when you know, you know, right?”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. You just ended the call without another word and stared blankly at your phone, her voice still echoing in your ears.

You swallowed down the ache in your throat.

It had only been two weeks.

Of course they moved on. Of course they were all fine.

You were the only one who had to start over.

You didn’t realize how fast your feet were moving until you almost ran right into someone rounding the corner. “Shit,” you muttered, stumbling back and blinking hard. Your mind was still foggy, heavy with the ache twisting in your chest.

“Whoa, you okay, Luxe?” A familiar voice asked, steadying you by the shoulders.

You looked up to see Steve. Your stomach tightened.

He held a plastic cup in one hand, droplets of condensation sliding down the side. The soft clink of ice told you exactly what it was before he even said it. “Uh, I…went to that café to grab an iced tea for myself. Thought you might want one, too,” he said, his voice a little awkward.

You stared at the drink, then back at him. That stupid softness in his eyes made your throat burn. What was he doing? Why was he being nice all of a sudden? And why now?

Without thinking, the words slipped out, sharper than you intended. “What, is this some pity drink? You think just because you buy me a drink, you’re suddenly a decent guy now?”

Steve’s smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. “What?”

You crossed your arms, stepping back. “Oh, please. Don’t act so clueless. You’ve done nothing but remind me I don’t belong here, and now all of a sudden you want to play the nice guy?”

His voice rose, frustration evident as he spoke. “Okay, what the hell? I thought we moved past all that. And I didn’t have to go out of my way to—”

“Well, maybe next time, don’t,” you cut him off, your voice cold.

Steve’s jaw tightened. He looked down at the iced tea, then tossed it in the trash bin beside him. “You know what? Forget it.”

He didn’t look at you as he walked away. You stood there, heart pounding, the pit in your stomach growing heavier. Biting your cheek hard, you swallowed back the tears threatening to spill.

Every time you thought things were starting to go right, you found a way to ruin it.

Maybe the problem was you all along.

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gennemi · 9 hours ago

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hi! can you write a fic where erik takes care of reader after she’s had her wisdom teeth out and she is a little out of it? i feel like erik would be so gentle and attentive to make sure his parter feels better. 🥹

𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑹𝑬 𝑺𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑻𝒀

A/N: hiiii!!! I got you lovely!!! This is the cutest thing ever PLEASE 🥹🥹, also I gave Erik an eyebrow piercing. It's mentioned in this as I headcanon him having one hehehe🤭

Contains: soft, doting Erik,goofy anesthesia haze, gentle caretaking, mentions of piercings/tattoos,slight suggestiveness but nothing smutty

Taglist: @dixontardis , @mandyluvsharmon , @emmadellaposta-blog , @kai-komaeda , @dogey290 , @batzy-watzy , @roseglass-writings , @seraphims-sins , @queenbibbleslikesstuff , @misstankthrust

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t remember getting in the car.

You do remember asking the nurse if she thought Erik was single and if she could maybe help you “flirt with him.” You also might have asked her to hold your hand because, quote, “he’s hot but scary.”

Erik hasn’t let you forget it.

"Scary, huh?" he murmurs, voice low and teasing as he helps you into bed, one arm around your waist while the other cradles your head. You’re still wearing the hoodie he draped over you before leaving the oral surgeon’s office—his hoodie, which smells like sandalwood and ink and cigarettes. You’re pretty sure you drooled on it.

"You said I was hot, though. So I’ll let it slide."

You blink up at him, pupils still a little dilated, cheeks full and puffy with gauze. “Y-you’re so pretty,” you slur. “I love your face. Your eyebrow ring is so sparkly.”

Erik chuckles—actually chuckles—before brushing your hair out of your face with the back of his fingers. “You’re out of your mind, sweetheart.”

You grab his wrist. Or try to. It’s more like a soft slap. “Nuh uh. I’m in love with you.”

He softens. All the way.

“I know,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek. “You tell me all the time. Even when you’re not high as hell.”

You squint up at him. “Do you love me?”

Erik leans down and kisses your forehead, his lips lingering a moment. “Of course I do. More than anything.”

You hum, content. He adjusts your pillows with one hand and starts tucking the blanket around you like you’re something fragile.

“I gotta switch your gauze in a few,” he murmurs, smoothing your hair. “You okay if I stay here?”

“You live here,” you mumble. “You’re my boyfriend.”

“Damn right I am.”

He brings you a smoothie with a bendy straw later and holds it for you while you try to sip. You miss the straw three times. He never laughs.

When you start crying because your tongue feels “weird and lumpy,” he kisses your temple and whispers, “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. We’ll laugh about this tomorrow.”

And you will.

But for now, Erik just keeps brushing your hair back, whispering soft things against your cheek, and holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#please this was cute #and silly #ren writes #ren posts #richard harmon #erik campbell #final destination #final destination bloodlines #erik campbell final destination #erik campbell x reader #final destination 6

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crystallizsch · 9 months ago

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also uh i gotchu octavinelle enjoyers here’s the 3-in-1

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summer-oil · 1 year ago

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thinking priest!geto thoughts again :(((

you’re both a little rotten . it’s a stench that sticks to your skin and you can smell it off each other. there’s a certain kind of bond that only blooms between people who know the each other’s smile is fake, you know? and there’s a kind of trauma that lingers and rots and sticks to your bones and you can hide it with layers of clothing or heavy robes but people who have felt it themselves will always spot the signs . do you see what i’m saying. there’s something special between you when he says he loves his god and you know that he’s lying. there’s something special when you say you couldn’t care less if god thinks you’re sinful and he knows that you’re lying . because you can both smell it off each other. the sickening rot .

#explodes into pieces #yeah i’ve been…. feeling really normal recently. as you can see #priest!geto’s reader is so fun #to me #they’re so unabashed and crude and classy and they call him out on his bullshit with a smile #and he just smiles back #you’re both so tired and cynical but you appreciate each other’s company #i like to think . that he moves in with you. far away #you steal a priest from his church and take him home with you #and he’s happy . he finds more faith in the windows of your bedroom than he ever did in the stained glass of his church #i don’t know if i’ll ever write everything out fully because i do think . this would have to be suggestive #something about scrubbing off the shame that comes with catholic guilt yk ??#you sleep with him and it’s not sinful.#you sleep with him and you wake up in his arms the morning after and that’s the first time you see him fully at peace #okay nevermind i’m gonna cry #THEY MEAN SO MUCH TO MEEE :((((#need priest!geto to heal sooo fucking badly hang in there king #ari noises ✩#geto x reader #priest!geto

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lokissweater · 11 months ago

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talk baby ⋆｡°✩

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: it’s the season of the world series!— your little life with megumi absolutely warm and loving as you spent every waking moment together, the both of you never failing to hang out or speak to one another since the very moment you two made it official. but when the higher ups start demanding more of megumi to bring the world series home, tiring him out and causing him to lose sleep? a wedge is driven between you both as megumi tells you words he wished he’d never said.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUFF, ANGSTYY, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it yall), SMUT, baseball talk, megumi LOOVESS YOUU my goodness, DONINANT AF MEGUMI OBVIOUSLYYY, creampie, shower sex, DIRTY TALK megumi has a filthy mouth, megumi and reader get into a fight, it’s the world series, all characters are aged up.

word count: 12.5k (IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY-)

authors note: THE WAIT IS FINALLY OVERRR FUCK i cannot thank you all enough for the support with these series. i saw all of your AMAZING suggestions and sprinkled them all over THANK YOU!! i POURED my heart into this and i really hope you all love itttttt :,( STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT FIC OF THIS SERIES AAHHH!! I LOVE YOU MWAHHH <33

i highly highly advise you to read the first part of this fic or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find it here!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

megumi fushiguro loved how much you talked.

“—and then i went to the bakery down the street from my campus to get that one coffee cake i always get? the one you brought me after my class?”

“mhm.”

“but they were freaking out of it it’s like they knew i was coming to take their stock man. it was seven in the morning how the fuck are you out of coffee cake?”

megumi laughed softly and pressed a slow sweet kiss to your cheek, readjusting his arms around your waist as he scooched your body closer to his on his lap, the both of you on his huge black bean bag that sat in his living room as he leaned the side of his head back on your shoulder, relaxed and a little sleepy.

“so then i had to go to the one on campus, even though i already know it doesn’t taste the same…” you sighed sadly. “what if they did that on purpose? what if they want me to stop coming?”

megumi huffed an amused breath through his nose and shook his head gently against your shoulder. “don’t think so baby. i feel like you keep them in business with how much you go.”

you huffed and crossed your arms, grumbling. “yet they treat me like this...”

tilting your head down then to get a better look at him, you peeked at his sleepy face and tired eyes as he tried his absolute hardest to stay awake for you, wanting to listen to everything you had to say and more, but his eyelids drooping every couple of seconds before opening back up again just not letting him.

you smiled softly and carded your fingers through his black hair, pushing the front strands back and giving him a cute peck on his forehead.

“take a nap gumi… you’re so tired i can see it.”

“uh uh.” megumi hummed.

he lifted his head groggily and propped his chin up on your shoulder, eyes closed.

“keep going.” he murmured, his words a little slurred. “did you end up getting your coffee cake from the other bakery..?”

“i did.” you responded softly, caressing your thumb over his warm cheek as your soothing voice lulled him. “it was nasty. the end. c’mon baby you have practice tomorrow—”

“no.”

“gumi it’s late i don’t want to keep you uuupp.” you whined, nudging him.

“if you sleep over.” he mumbled.

“but i have class tomorrow.”

“i’ll take you.”

“but you always do and i feel bad…” you pinched his cheek softly. “it’s okay i can—”

“don’t care.”

you giggled. “well i do. i want you to get more sleep gumi, your practices are crazy long now and you have them like everyday—”

he groaned loudly and ushered you up, you complying as you watched him lazily stand from the bean bag and grab you, baggy eyes half lidded as he picked you up from around your legs and threw you over his shoulder— something he always did ever since the day he confessed, and something you absolutely floored over whenever he did it.

your giggles rang through his quiet and spacious apartment that made him sleepily smile as he lazily carried you down the hall and to his room, setting you softly to sit on his plush bed as he pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of your head, though nearly almost missing, him leaning back up and grabbing the hem of his black shirt— pulling it over his head and carelessly tossing it somewhere in the room before climbing into bed.

you felt so so bad. the team’s schedule was released just two weeks prior, and seeing as the world series was coming up— the most important segment of competitive games they could possibly ever have, the coaches and managers were grinding and overworking their players to pure fucking filth, them wanting to keep their streak as the number one baseball team no matter what it took.

and because of that, megumi was always so tired and stressed— holding on day by day as the higher ups demanded so much of him because he was the most skilled on the team, him spending his days trying to stay awake and make time for you— picking you up from class and taking you out to lunch like he always did, but your worried gaze always on his dark under eyes as you insisted and told him already that you understood, that he didn’t need to right now if it was over the subject of his career.

and especially if it was for the world series.

“lay down.” he murmured, patting the pillow next to him as he peeked at you with one eye open.

you stood, pulled the covers back and hopped in, megumi’s arm immediately snaking around your waist and pulling your back to his bare chest, his face nuzzling in your hair as you noticed how quickly his breathing deepened, falling asleep almost the minute you got settled in his arms and fitting like a little puzzle piece.

it had been almost an entire year since you and megumi started dating, and you have never ever been happier in your life as you thanked your lucky stars over and over again for being such a dumbass— wholly believing that if one thing had changed, it wouldn’t have played out the way that it did.

and you adored the way that it played out.

megumi was so affectionate. everyday. his love language being physical touch as he literally never left you alone and always had to be touching you in any given situation— like his hand on your thigh whenever he drove, playing with your fingers from across the table while out at a restaurant… and like now, his toned body literally engulfing you into his that it made you feel so cared for and warm and loved, something you always wanted to feel for the rest of your life as long as it was with him.

the next morning he drove you to school like he said he would, and then went straight to practice after, you telling him that you would be there once your classes were over.

and when you did get to the stadium later that day, megumi was mad.

“what the fuck happened?” you quickly sat next to your best friend on the sidelines, her snickering as you both watched megumi tell off another player for fumbling a double play on the field.

“they’re making more errors today,” your girl friend sighed. “they’re all nervous since their division series game is tomorrow and they’re getting closer to the big thing… but megumi is not having it.”

“you bobbled the ball go to first fucking base and eat it what the hell are you doing trying to—”

you gnawed at your bottom lip.

it was common for megumi to bark out orders and take charge on the field, that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it was only here and there where he was yelling and insulting the rest of his teammates like that (mostly rarely). a sign you knew was because he was stressing the fuck out.

“what you just did was a kiddie fucking error we won’t make it to the world series like this dingus the fuck are you—”

you covered your face and groaned. “i can’t watch… i don’t think i’ve seen him like this since that one day he asked me to come here.”

“you mean the day he ate you out in—”

“shuuushhh!” your hands shot out and slapped over her mouth as she let out a muffled laugh, your eyes wide and cheeks pink as you frantically looked around to see if anybody had heard her.

she took your wrists then and pulled them away. “have you guys even had sex yet? how many times am i gonna ask you until you say yes—”

you nudged her away. “no! we haven’t yet.”

you didn’t know why you hadn’t— the topic just one that was never brought up by either of you.

but you’ve definitely done other things though.

megumi was like a dog, not knowing the meaning of ‘keep your hands to yourself’ as he was always groping your ass in public out of no where just to hear you squeak in surprise, shoving his hands down your pants and making you cum repeatedly on his fingers when you’re both innocently just watching a movie on his couch, pressing his face into your tits and sucking hickeys whenever you wore a low cut shirt, and bullying his way in between your legs to lick and devour you up whenever he felt like it— all things he did with zero hesitation nor self control.

you weren’t complaining though, definitely not— you were just as freaky.

because every time megumi wore those gray sweatpants after practices that you loved oh so very much, no shirt on with his perfect toned body out only for your eyes— your mouth was on him, licking his chest all the way down to his pelvis, tugging the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers down until all that was left before you was his mlb dick, you taking him into your mouth and sucking the absolute life out of him until he was shaking and breathlessly chanting your pretty name like a prayer—

“break!”

you pulled yourself from your thoughts and stood, your eyes already watching the way megumi walked over from across the field with his head down, chest heaving and his face glistening with sweat against the setting sun, his baseball uniform covered in dirt.

both you and your girl friend walked down the steps and towards the bullpen, you quickly grabbing a clean white hand towel from the gatorade jug rack beforehand and catching up, spotting yuji and megumi already seated inside on a bench.

upon megumi noticing you coming up, he smiled softly, tiredly.

“you guys are sucking today.” your best friend deadpanned, and you elbowed her.

“no. you guys just look really nervous… is everything okay?”

you took a seat next to megumi and silently offered the clean towel, him gently bringing up your extended wrist and pecking it in gratitude before taking the towel and wiping down his face, your cheeks flushing in response.

yuji sighed deeply and shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. “everyone’s literally losing it. we win every year but each year that comes is extra added pressure to keep that up.”

megumi nodded wordlessly in agreement, his head hung.

“well this is your first bad practice isn’t it?” you softly mentioned.

“yeah… maybe it’s just today and you guys will be okay tomorrow.” your girl friend added, smiling comfortingly at yuji, him giving her the same smile back but with apprehension in his eyes.

“would’ve been fine if it was yesterday.” megumi cut in, voice monotone. “not today. not when it’s the last leg for the world series.”

he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms with closed eyes, yuji nodding next to him.

you pulled your lips into a thin line, heavy anxiety brewing in your chest at the thought of them possibly losing before even getting into the league championships, something their team has never done before as they’ve always just gone straight through.

in order to get through to the world series, their team has to win the division series and the league championships, then they earn their rightful shining spot of playing in the world series and winning— something megumi has been a part of for almost three years now, and something the team has dominated over for five consecutive years straight.

but what if this year was different?

“how are you feeling?” you gently asked megumi after a bit. “i saw you were a little mad today on the field…”

he slowly pried his eyes open and looked at you, sighing softly through his nose.

“m’fine pretty baby.” he murmured. “they’re just not playing like they should be.”

megumi took his cap off and scratched the side of his head, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “and neither am i to be honest.”

your eyes softened.

“what do you mean?”

“m’just not meeting the standards i set for myself.”

“but you play well in every game gumi..” you mumbled. “don’t overwork yourself please. just keep doing what you’ve been doing… it’s been going great so far, hasn’t it?”

he gave you a little smile and lazily reached up to delicately caress and run the ends of your hair through his fingers. “i need to amp it up though. i need to try harder.”

“try harder when you’re already winning?” you quirked a confused brow.

he nodded.

“what’s the reason behind that?”

megumi gave you a sly smile. “because you’ll be watching me.”

you gawked, shaking your head at him. “gumi, you know anything that you do makes me freak out and it’s embarrassing...” you subconsciously tugged a bit at the sides of his jersey. “the way you tied my shoes for me the other day made me freak out. the way you pumped my gas last week made me freak out. the way you stuck your fingers inside my pu—”

his eyes bulged open as he shot forward and muffled you with a kiss, you kissing him back and laughing cutely once he pulled away.

“nasty mouth…” he mumbled, but the little grin on his face made you giggle as he put his cap back on over his head and nudged it down, trying to conceal his eyes and the blushing of his cheeks— but you catching on anyways.

“how was class?” he asked quietly, readjusting his cap. “did you get your coffee cake after i dropped you off?”

you shook your head. “no because i’d rather die than get the one on campus. they need to close that place down.”

megumi snorted, but his eyebrows pinched momentarily as he took your hand in his and started playing with your fingers. “you should’ve told me. i would’ve drove you to the one you like.”

“no gumi i wasn’t gonna make you do that... i wanted you to sleep in as much as possible.”

“i’ll take you after practice.”

“no! you need to nap after don’t waste time—”

“m’not wasting time.” he replied, but before you could get another word in, his coach called all players back on field.

“i’ll see you after.” he stood and pecked your forehead. “i love you pretty baby.”

you smiled shyly, your cheeks a cute pink.

“i love you too.”

thankfully, megumi didn’t seem as pissed off for the rest of practice, and you hoped it was because of the little chat you had with him in the bullpen prior and that it cheered him up in some way— the team playing a lot better and actually working together this time instead of being at each others throats over feeble mistakes.

and when they were all finally back at the locker rooms packed up and ready to go, you organized his clean uniform for tomorrow and hung his gloves neatly inside his locker, closing it once you were done.

“you don’t have to do that baby.” he murmured, gesturing to his locker as he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder and extended a hand. “organize. i can do that.”

“but i like doing it...” you took his offering hand and interlaced your fingers with his. “it helps you find things quicker.”

you both stepped out, quickly bidding your girl friend and yuji goodbye on the way as you walked down the echoey hallway together.

“—you also don’t have to drive me to school every morning but you do that anyways.”

he smiled. “touché.”

he led you out of the arena and over to the private parking area for players and crew— him opening the passenger side door for you to step inside and shutting it after, throwing his duffel bag to the back once he got in the drivers seat.

and like he always did, megumi buckled you up himself, grabbing the seat belt strap and pulling it over you to click on the other side with a kiss to your cheek— him never letting you do it yourself since the day you two properly met.

“do they sell food at the bakery?” he looked over at you as he pulled out. “they do don’t they.”

“they do!” you nodded sweetly. “but we’re not going.”

“why.”

“because you need to sleep—”

“no.”

“megumi—”

he shot you a glare and you squeaked.

“gumi! i-i meant gumi!”

he fixed his glare and broke out into a small smile instead, laughing lightly as he set his big hand over your thigh and squeezed lovingly.

you giggled softly.

“lunch first and then i’ll sleep.”

“oh my—”

you reached over for the door handle and pulled, brows furrowing once the lock wouldn’t budge after multiple frantic tries.

“you still have child lock on?!”

megumi shielded his mouth to hide his snicker, eyes to the road.

“uh huh.”

“why?!”

he gave you a deadpanned look and pointed to the door. “exhibit a, baby. the car is moving.”

“gumi if you hate me just say that.”

pulling into the bakery’s parking lot, he playfully rolled his eyes at your comment and pinched your cheek gently.

“be quiet.”

the bakery was a cute little place that was a frequent pit stop for the both of you to pick up breakfast on the way to the things you had to do in the mornings— always cozy and warm and filled with little trinkets and postcards of places from around the world, you always gushing when you or megumi would spot a new souvenir on the walls or on the shelves, and him sometimes having to stop you from snatching some for yourself…

“they have a million!” you whispered. “they won’t notice this one. please it’s from greece it’ll look cute on my fridge!”

megumi sipped his lemonade and gave you a half lidded look as you both sat in a booth.

“i don’t know if anyone has ever told you this but.” he gently slid the coffee cake closer to you, silently ushering you to eat. “that’s called stealing.”

“not if they don’t notice.”

megumi gave you an amused smile.

“i’ll take one for you too!”

“for me?”

“yeah!” you put your elbow on the table and propped your chin on your palm, tilting your head with the cutest expression megumi has ever seen in his fucking life.

“i’d do anything for you.”

his cheeks flooded pink, and he swallowed thickly.

megumi would do anything for you.

“i appreciate that pretty baby,” he murmured, tenderly tracing the pad of his index finger mindlessly around the back of your hand.

“great! so can i do it?”

“no.”

“maaannnn!” you slumped over the table and pouted. “you’re no fun.”

he chuckled and took a bite out of his ham and cheese deli, your mannerisms sometimes reminding him of his dad.

he swallowed.

“gojo wants to meet you.”

you froze. “really? he does?”

megumi nodded.

“okay! that’s okay— wait no! wait—” you groaned and leaned against the booth. “i don’t think he’s gonna like me very much…”

“huh?” his eyebrows furrowed. “why do you say that?”

you peered up at him sheepishly. “because i talk too much… i’m not gonna notice and end up telling him my lore, my school gpa, and my social security number.”

megumi laughed, and your heart fluttered at the sight of his crinkling eyes and gorgeous smile, the sound of it making you swoon.

he shook his head and rubbed his sleepy eyelids. “no baby... he’d love you. i know he would.”

“i don’t know gumi…” you sighed, looking down at your lap. “i want to meet him of course! that’s a given… but..”

megumi quirked a brow. “but?”

“i just don’t want to look stupid…” you laughed nervously. “it’s happened before where my friends parents say i’m a blabber mouth and i don’t want to embarrass you—”

his tired eyes narrowed. “blabber mouth? who’s saying you’re a blabber mouth?”

“my— my ex boyfriend in high school…” you cowered a little. “but it’s okay because i was over sharing!—”

“no.” he said firmly, his gaze looking directly into yours. “you’re not a blabbermouth. there’s a difference between being really open and friendly with people right off the bat and being a blabbermouth.”

megumi shook his head in annoyance. how could someone ever say you were a blabbermouth? he had never heard something that was so far from the truth.

you were too sweet for your own good, that was your only fault. you considered everyone you met a close friend of yours and weren’t afraid to tell them whatever came to your precious mind and made them feel welcome— something that megumi adored so much about you… so much, and something that made him borderline violent when people berated you for it.

“they just can’t handle it when someone is actually genuine. like you. and that’s not your fault.”

the shiniest smile grew on your face then, your eyes sparkling and feeling like a million fucking butterflies were fluttering all over your tummy— internally screaming at his words.

“thank you gumi…” you spoke softly. “i’m glad at least you don’t see an issue with it.”

“i don’t.” he shook his head. “i don’t at all.”

he loved it.

the rest of your lunch date was spent with megumi still not letting you steal the greece trinket magnet from the wall, you scolding him for the bags under his eyes, and him buying you two more slices of coffee cake to go no matter how many times you told him it was okay, the both of you gathering your things and going back to his car after a bit for him to drop you off back home.

“i’ll be here in the morning to take you to class.” he said gently, turning the corner and nearing your street.

“what? isn’t the division series game tomorrow?” you asked, taken aback. “gumi no just get as much sleep as you can it’s a big day. i can take myself.”

he looked at you boredly.

“no.”

“guumiii!”

he pulled into your driveway and shifted his gear into park, the corners of his mouth turned upward into a little goofy grin.

“i can take you baby it’s fine,” he pushed gently. “don’t worry.”

“you’ve been stressed though… and tired.”

you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached over, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in as he immediately leaned in and tucked his face into your neck, breathing in your honeyed perfume and letting himself slump into your soft frame.

“please promise me that after the division series, you’ll rest up like crazy before the league championships.” he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes nearly closing as he sleepily blinked. “okay?”

“league championships? didn’t know we already won.” he murmured.

you giggled. “obviously. you’re my cool baseball man, are you not?”

he tiredly grinned and pressed a sweet sweet kiss to your cheek, him biting down on it after and making you yelp before snickering and pulling away.

“bye gumi,” you quickly grabbed a slice of coffee cake and placed it on his leg. “here eat this on the way home so you don’t fall asleep.”

he chuckled and watched as you grabbed your things, hopped out, and ran across the front of his car, leaning your head in through his open window once you reached him and pressing your soft lips to his, megumi fucking melting at the feeling.

you pulled apart and he pecked you one last time— a series of i love you’s iterated before you backed away and waved excitedly from your front door, him waiting until you were inside to reverse, his engine roaring and his black car shining against the moonlight as he sped down the street.

the next morning you got up around the time that you usually did, showered and did your hair and got ready for class, packed your school bag and made your bed—

but megumi hadn’t texted you. like at all.

he usually sent you a good morning text, followed by him letting you know when he was leaving the house, followed by when he was on his way, and followed by when he was just down the street and pulling up.

except you got nothing.

you figured maybe today was just one of those days where he maybe just simply forgot and was already on his way, but as you stood literally outside of your house, gnawing on your thumb and the time coming painfully close to the start of your morning class as you still got nothing from megumi (even when you had texted him multiple times at this point), you started shitting it.

just as you were about to run inside to get the keys to your car, your phone buzzed as a picture of you and megumi flashed across the screen.

megumi!

“hel—”

“baby!—” he breathed out, frantic. “baby i’m sorry i’m so sorry i’m coming okay im down the street—”

“what happened?” you breathed out worriedly, your heart hammering against your chest.

“i overslept!—” he explained quickly. “i’m late to the team’s call time and— and you’re late to class and i— fuck!”

you heard his horn blare and his tires screech as muffled curses flew from his mouth, you jumping at the noise.

“sorry sorry someone cut me off i’m almost there—”

“no gumi go straight to the stadium you’re late!” you spoke firmly. “i can take myself—”

“no but i wanted to see you before the game—”

“it’s fine we can see each other after the game okay? when you win—” you grabbed your keys from the coffee table by your door and ran out, unlocking your car and getting in. “you’re late baby so fucking late please turn back this isn’t good coach is gonna chew you out—”

“shit! i know i know—”

“go gumi hang up it’s okay!”

“okay.. fuck okay okay—”

you heard rustling on the other line before he spoke again.

“i love you i’m sorry ill see you after!”

and the line went dead.

you slugged through the rest of your classes as the day felt way fucking longer than it normally did, you desperately just wanting to see megumi and know that he was okay, that he wasn’t in trouble with his coach and the management team for being over an hour late to the division series call time, you on the verge of literal tears multiple times over him.

your best friend and you had planned to get ready for the game together and sport your men’s jerseys from the stands— a girl’s night you were agonizingly looking forward to all freaking month, and so so excited that the day was finally here to support and be present for the making of yet another year for the boys’ team.

“and then he hung up. i thought he was gonna get into a wreck man—”

you ran your fingers through your styled hair in your vanity mirror, your best friend readjusting her jersey behind you— ‘itadori’ in big capital letters on the back.

“megumi is the most hard headed mean stubborn man i have ever come across in my life.” she searched around in her makeup bag, pulling out her lip liner and reapplying next to you. “i don’t know how many times you told him to sleep and get some rest. and yuji too! he hasn’t stopped talking about him since the schedule change and now i’m starting to think he’s in love with him.”

you laughed loudly.

“i know…” you sighed anxiously through your nose, nervous clammy jitters in your chest. “his eye bags have gotten so bad this past week.”

“i think it’s because he’s been practicing over time.”

you stopped.

“what do you mean?”

she looked at you quizzically. “i thought you knew? yuji told me that the higher ups had a meeting with megumi and told him that they were expecting him to bring the world series home.”

she popped the lid back on her lip liner and threw it in her bag. “he practices all night on the field until like four am.”

“what the fuck?” your eyes narrowed. “he never told me that? he picks me up for my seven am class everyday… that means he’s only been getting what— like two and a half hours of sleep this past week?”

she stopped. “he didn’t tell you?”

“no!” you exclaimed. “when was this meeting?”

“at the start of last week.”

“oh my god.” you grumbled.

why didn’t he tell you?

“that’s fucked up.” she shook her head. “talk to him about that after babe… i don’t know why this man didn’t tell you something like that.”

“i would’ve never let him pick me up for class if i knew this was going on…” you gloomily fiddled with the buttons on your jersey. “or hang out with me after practice.”

and why the hell were the higher ups demanding so much from megumi? why were they burning him out with a responsibility so huge as to ensuring the success of the team for the world series? that wasn’t fair to him. that wasn’t fair at all.

your girl friend hugged you comfortingly.

“it’s fine don’t worry about it okay?… just talk to him after.”

once at the stadium, you and your best friend squeezed and pushed through the crowd to get to the v.i.p. section, the both of you sweating and panting over having run across the stadium’s parking lot and the main area, all because your best friend couldn’t decide which way to do her hair, and because you couldn’t decide if you should wear a skirt or jeans.

you ended up choosing for each other and calling it a day.

“hey! you guys!”

you both snapped your heads up and you recognized the source of the voice as one of the assistant crew members of the team, jogging up to you guys with two devices in his hands.

“you guys want these radios or are you good? they’re connected to the announcers and have earbuds!”

“oh i’ll take one! thank you!” you answered politely, smiling as he passed you and your best friend a radio.

you pushed the earbud into your left ear and sat.

the crowd was buzzing and cheering with excitement, flashes of light shimmering throughout the sold out stadium as many held up posters and signs or bobble heads, you smiling wide every time you spotted a few of megumi’s face and name.

the air was warm, and every kind of news reporter, publicist, and journalist was present on the sidelines as they filmed and interviewed several players from the opposing team.

“let’s play ball!”

the crowed roared, claps and whistles ringing through the air as yuji walked out from the dugout, the both of you screaming as the rest of the team followed suit, your shoulders evidently relaxing at the sight of megumi jogging out into position looking absolutely jaw dropping in his clean cut uniform and cap, serious and focused.

as the game ensued, it was no surprise that the boys’ team was absolutely demolishing the opposing players, megumi doing fucking stellar out on the field as he caught ball after ball with his glove, the announcers commentary certainly helping with explaining the context of the game due to your lack of knowledge, but you trying your hardest anyways to understand on your own.

and finally after a while of switching sides and megumi hitting like a greek god, the teams switched sides what seemed like the final time since it was almost the nine inning, his turn to hit.

“walking up to base now… number eighteen— megumi fushiguro!”

the crowd went fucking insane as he walked up, you immediately standing and screaming over the railing as he took his position up there— swinging soft faux hits before properly adjusting his footing on the loose dirt, fans waving around their fushiguro banners or his baseball cards as he settled.

the bags under his eyes…

you gnawed anxiously at your bottom lip. his team was so close to moving on to the league championships…

“and the pitcher throws….”

hit!

“strike one!”

megumi screwed his eyes shut and grimaced, shaking his head furiously as he shook the nerves from his body and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

“oh!” the announcers groaned. “looks like megumi fushiguro missed a hit for the first time in history!”

for the first time?

you whipped your head around to face your girl friend. “for the first time?”

she looked at you with the same terrorized expression.

“fuck i knew he always hit but i didn’t know he never missed…” you whined worriedly. “he’s exhausted man i can see it look—”

megumi’s footing slightly slipped from the dirt as he positioned himself, getting ready for the next swing.

“and the pitcher throws again…”

hit!

“strike two!”

“fuck!” megumi roared, walking off the home plate and chucking his bat to the wall— the wood flying and clattering as it hit the ground, your eyes widening in horror.

“woah looks like fushiguro got another strike and.. needs to take a breather off the field..?”

“if megumi doesn’t get this next hit, they’re done!” your girl friend shook her head, eyes wide and afraid. “the other team is gonna take it!”

you ran your fingers through your hair exasperatedly, frantically looking at the scoreboard and back at megumi who was pacing a little off the plate with his head down, his hands on his hips.

“fushiguro!” you spotted yuji yelling from the dugout. “get back on the plate! we could get flagged!”

megumi’s chest heaved as he picked up his bat and wiped off the dirt, walking back over to the home plate and repositioning himself.

cameras flashed and recorded as he tried to get back into focus, news reporters talking their asses off and journalists scribbling god knows what— as they just earned themselves their biggest headline of the season.

megumi fushiguro missed his first hit in playing history.

“and the pitcher throws…”

hit!

“oh there it goes! looks like a fair ball!”

the crowd rallies as megumi books it over the first two bases, everyone watching as the ball hits over the outfield fence as he fucking dashes across the remaining two bases like nothing, earning himself a home run—

and scoring a spot in the league championship games for his team.

you and your best friend jump for complete joy, throwing your arms around each other and swaying as fans all around you celebrated and cheered just like the both of you, you happily watching the players from the dugout run up and engulf megumi in a group hug, jumping and laughing.

as the crowd began to disperse and take leave, you both quickly ran down the steps and to the field, you immediately spotting megumi and running up to him with your arms out.

“gumi!”

he noticed you and extended his arms, but his face read nothing as you jumped into them.

“good job good job! you did so amazing!”

“nice fushiguro!” yuji nudged his shoulder. “you brought us through!”

“i missed the first two hits.”

he set you back down.

yuji shrugged. “so? it happens. i do it all the time! you made a home run and scored us the league.”

megumi only silently nodded, his face to the ground as you told yuji and your best friend that you would see them in the locker rooms with everybody else.

and once everyone had cleared out from the field, you turned to him.

“hey…” you started. “what’s wrong?”

his eyes remained glued to the dirt.

“i missed the first two hits.”

your shoulders deflated. “you heard what yuji said… it’s okay. it was bound to happen but it’s fine because you fixed it—”

“we were on thin fucking ice today.”

his snippy tone took you by surprise a bit.

“yes… but you made it...” you responded softly. “you all pulled through. especially you.”

he scoffed and shook his head, him finally raising his baggy eyes and looking to the side, pissed.

“i almost cost us the league. that’s what i did.”

“gumi—” you exhaled a frustrated breath. “you literally played like a machine the entire time and had other hits that were amazing? i don’t understand why two little strikes—”

his eyes snapped to yours. “two little strikes?” he shook his head again. “two strikes too fucking many.”

“what is your issue?—”

“my issue is that if i fucked up that third hit it would’ve been all over. we would’ve lost the division, lost the league, and lost the world series, all because i don’t know how to fucking play ball—”

“yes you do! you’re being way too hard on yourself baby you need to take a breather and rest—”

“how many times have you nagged me about that already.” he spat.

you froze.

“nagged?” you repeated softly.

“yes. you’ve told me enough times i get it i need rest, i need sleep, i need this i need that—”

“i’m saying that because look at you!” you motioned with your hands, feeling potential tears prickling at the back of your eyes at the way he was speaking to you. “your under eyes are dark and purple, your eyes are red you look exhausted!”

“and i told you i’m fine!” he raised his voice a bit. “you wouldn’t understand the shit that i have to do for this team the shit i have to pull and i gave them absolute garbage today—”

“oh my god megumi!” you snapped. “your team is a team effort! it’s not just you! you’re not the only one pulling the stops so enough with trying to take on this load and overwork yourself! please you played amazing today everyone was cheering so loud for you and—”

“stop talking.”

you paused.

“just—” he rubbed his tired eyes and turned to the side. “just please stop talking.”

stop… talking?

he struck a chord, and you felt your heart literally break at his words, an aching heavy pit in your chest as you recounted his yelling and snappiness when all you were trying to do was help him.

thats all you’ve ever tried to do for megumi really— help him, support him, and love him. but for him to throw it all back in your face and say you didn’t understand? for you to basically shut up?

tears were slipping past your eyes at this point, and when you felt like megumi finally bothered to look at you in the face, his eyes widened and his shoulders dropped.

“baby—”

“and what about you?”

he stopped. “about me—”

“yes about you. you’re saying i don’t understand anything you’re fucking going through, as if i haven’t followed you through your career since the moment we met and before that, like i haven’t supported you on the sidelines and asked you question after question about your games just so i can fucking understand—”

“no i—”

you cut him off. “and then you’re here— yelling at me, telling me off, and telling me to shut up when i’m the only one fucking standing here with you after the game trying to be there for you?!—”

“baby— fuck i’m sorry okay i didn’t mean—”

you laughed bitterly. “you didn’t mean it. didn’t mean what? to accidentally let it slip that you actually do think i’m a blabbermouth?”

he was taken aback as his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head desperately. “no— no that’s not what i meant at all y/n i’m sorry. i’ve been so stressed and tired and i’m taking it all out on you right now and— and that’s not okay and not an excuse.”

megumi quickly stepped forward and placed his hands on your face, but you pushed him away, hurt flashing across his eyes as you did so.

“and why didn’t you tell me about the meeting huh? the one with the higher ups last week?”

surprise crossed his face. “how did you—”

“doesn’t matter how i heard it. why didn’t you tell me? do you understand how that makes me feel when i have to find out through someone else and not my own boyfriend?”

he ran a hand through his spiky black hair and sighed exhaustedly.

“i didn’t tell you because i knew you would be upset about it and i didn’t want you to worry—”

“so you just chose to keep it from me that’s real nice.” you spat. “of course i wouldn’t be happy with it they’re stripping you down and exploiting you! how could they say that it’s all on you to bring it home for the world series? do you understand how insane that sounds?”

“i know but i can’t tell them anything i just have to say yes!” he explained.

“you have every right to tell them something! and if you would’ve communicated this with me like you should’ve done, i wouldn’t have let you lose so much sleep over me and maybe you wouldn’t have played the way you think you played, and you wouldn’t be standing here shitting all over me!”

he really struck a chord.

“y/n—”

“bye megumi.”

his breath hitched.

“no— hey don’t do that—”

he scrambled after you as you made your way out of the field, him quickly catching up and tugging you into him with his long arms around your shoulders, bringing your back to his front as he ducked his face down.

“let’s fix it please we need to fix this—”

“i want to be alone right now, megumi.” you mumbled.

god he hated how many times you’ve called him that already tonight, feeling like the biggest asshole to ever grace your precious life.

“no i don’t want you to be upset with me please—”

“we can talk later on the phone.” your tone was lifeless. “i just need to be alone.”

he faltered, feeling gutting pain cascade all over his body as he hesitantly, slowly, slipped his arms away and released you.

“o—okay.”

he watched you walk up the stands and to the exit as you clutched yourself, his eyes catching the back of your jersey reading his last name that sent an immediate pang through his chest, your frame disappearing from his view and leaving him in his stupid thoughts as he snatched his cap off from his head and threw it to the side in frustration.

that night megumi tried to call you but you didn’t pick up, you barely even answering his texts as he wallowed in self pity alone in his apartment.

and you hadn’t stopped crying since the moment your tears hit on the field— hurt and exhausted and guilty as you settled into bed, unable to bring yourself to call him and go through with your word, deciding to text instead.

(you): i’m really tired i’m sorry. i’ll see if i can call you in the morning.

megumi took no time at all to respond.

(gumi <3): can i take you to class tomorrow?

(you): i don’t think that’s a good idea

he swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the urge to fight it, wanting to respect you and your space.

but you only kept crying.

(gumi <3): okay

(you): goodnight

(gumi <3): goodnight pretty baby

just as you were about to place your phone back on your nightstand, it buzzed again.

(gumi <3): i love you i’m sorry

you sniffled and put your phone away officially, choosing not to respond.

the following week leading up to the league championship game, megumi spent every waking moment trying to make it up to you, trying to fix it, but you only seemed to stay away from him and distance yourself, something that hurt megumi like no other.

you felt like it was your fault he played the way he did that day. if you had been smarter, more mindful, you would’ve noticed that the intensity of his exhaustion was extremely abnormal, and perhaps you could’ve done something about it before it was too late and saved yourself the dreadful fight you had with him.

you hated the way you spoke to him, and you fully convinced yourself that you only served as a distraction for him, opting to keeping your distance as far away as possible so it allowed megumi to get his head focused again and ensure a promised route to the world series— something you had hoped to be there to witness, but deeming his success way more important than your needs at this point in time.

so you stopped going to all of his practices following that day, the fact tormenting megumi as you always went to each and every single one and was there for him without fault— rain or shine, always waiting for him in the locker rooms when he was finished.

but you weren’t there anymore. and each day you weren’t was another day megumi would spend angry and frustrated with himself that he did what he did. he knew your defense mechanism was pushing people away, and your current behavior gave him flashbacks to the time last year when he was falling for you and you kept running away from him, scared— those actions a carbon copy of what’s happening now, except far worse.

and he did that to you. he yelled at you and snapped at you, told you to stop talking for some fucking reason that he still couldn’t find the proper explanation for… and he made you cry. so much. your usual sweet honeyed voice you spoke to him with long gone since that day.

and he missed you. more than anything.

“you stupid—” throw “self absorbed—” throw “asshole—” throw “narcissistic—” throw—

“okay that’s enough that’s enough!”

yuji pulled your best friend back as she chucked towel after towel at megumi following one of their practices, her absolutely fuming.

he took every hit, not bothering to dodge. he deserved it.

“she told me what you did—” she shook herself away from yuji’s grip. “what the hell is the matter with you? how could you yell at her like that on the field? when all she’s ever done is love you—”

“i know.” megumi mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “i know i’m really sorry. i regret it.”

“fuck yeah you should,” she scoffed. “that woman’s been cooped up every day in her room bawling her eyes out over you!”

yuji nodded sadly, and megumi let out a pained breath as he closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, propping his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.

“fuck me…”

“yeah fuck you—”

“okay! okay. he’s already down let him bleed out.” yuji muttered to her as he rubbed his hands over her arms soothingly, an attempt at calming her down.

he looked at him. “megumi, you and i both know that she understands you were frustrated that day. the both of you. if you just talk to her—”

“you think i haven’t tried?” megumi picked his head up, and the both of them froze at the way his eyes glossed over.

“i’ve— i’ve called her, i’ve texted her, i drove by her house but she’s never there, fuck i even went to her campus at seven in the morning but couldn’t find her.”

he took his cap off and roughly rubbed over his eyes again.

your best friend sighed then after a moment, slowly stepping forward and sitting down next to him on the bench.

“she’ll come around megumi.” she mumbled. “just give her some time. i know it’s hard, but she really really loves you.” she sighed deeply. “she’ll come around.”

megumi nodded solemnly, and yuji stepped forward, patting his shoulder.

“you okay man?”

he nodded again.

missed phone calls, lagging dry texts, and last minute cancellations from you all happened for a week straight.

and when the time finally came for the league championships, megumi wanted nothing more than for you to be there as he stared at his messy fucking locker when prepping for the game— another reminder that you hadn’t been around, and another reminder that you wouldn’t be here tonight to see him, something he completely did not blame you for.

luckily, the league championship game was at their home base once more, and as the crowd got settled to watch, energies heightened as the players all got settled over the field to play ball— megumi shook the nerves from his body as he focused with the game, and you, on his mind like a religion.

and as the game ran on with the team scoring run after run, another win was blatantly obvious for them— megumi entirely unaware of your presence that was watching him the entire time in the stands.

you couldn’t help yourself. you needed to be there to watch him, needed to see him take home another achievement like that, regardless of where you both stood as you watched from just above the v.i.p section, shivering like an idiot because you forgot to bring a jacket after deciding to wear a flowy tube top for the day, but excited for him nonetheless.

you didn’t tell a single soul you were coming, not even your best friend as you just wanted to see megumi again before running off into the shadows of your embarrassing despair, missing him like fucking crazy and nearly sobbing when you saw him walk out on the field at the start, but even more emotional to the fact that they were actually going to move on to the world series by the looks of it.

and the crowd hollered eventually as the speakers blasted megumi’s teams signature song—

finalizing their spot in the world series.

your eyes glowed as you watched his team run up on the field and tackle each other down, literally rolling in the dirt as you giggled to yourself— sighing contently and about to turn and walk out of the stadium to go home when a strong rough hand wrapped around your bare upper arm.

“you’re fushiguro’s girl! aren’t you?”

you snapped your head up and saw someone you recognized as one of megumi’s crew members for the team, and you relaxed, trusting him.

“oh! yeah i am!”

“sweet! i just got hired to be on the crew a couple of weeks ago.”

“that’s great!” you answered politely, smiling. “how is—”

“listen i was wondering if i could get any tickets to the world series from you?”

what.

“um—” your eyes darted around awkwardly. “for— for the world series?—”

“yeah! i took this job so i could get some but apparently i need to be working longer than three weeks. dumb.”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek as your eyes drifted downward to your arm.

he still hadn’t let go.

“oh i’m sorry.” you mumbled. “i could— i could maybe get you one? one for sure!”

he shook his head. “shit sorry, i need like five.”

“five?!” you gawked. “i can’t get you five i’m really sorry… i can only maybe get you one.”

his eyes narrowed. “why not? you’re fushiguro’s girl are you not?”

“yes but what does that have to do with me getting you tickets to the world series?” you spoke nervously, trying to put on a brave front as his height literally towered over you.

“why don’t you ask him for tickets? he’s literally megumi fushiguro i’m sure he can cough up some—”

you scoffed.

“i’m not gonna ask him anything for you just because you want to use me to get tick—”

“so then what the fuck are you with him for?” his grip tightened around your arm as he pulled you a little, and you winced.

“let go of me!—”

megumi considered himself a relatively calm person throughout his life.

he knew he had his explosive rude moments here and there, him also accidentally offending people unknowingly with his words, but that behavior only stayed on the field as it pertained to the game at hand or with baseball itself, his life outside of that a treasured tranquil one as he spent his days with you and only you, something he looked forward to every waking moment since the day he met you.

but as he heard your little voice through the yelling of the crowd, instantly recognizing it and picking up on its distressed demeanor— his body did a full one-eighty as his eyes frantically searched for you through the mass of people.

and once he did spot you? your breathtaking little self being manhandled by some fucking moron who had his hand around your upper arm?

he didn’t consider himself a relatively calm person anymore.

megumi quickly snatched his cap off and passed it to a confused yuji and your best friend, sprinting at the speed of light across the field and to the fence of the v.i.p. section before hoisting himself up and climbing, jumping over once he reached the top and landing on the stands— him running up a few steps before finally reaching you and tearing the guy off.

“get the fuck off.”

he gently pushed you behind him, his chest heaving.

“the shit are you doing hurting her arm like that for huh?!” megumi stepped forward.

“hey! hey i’m sorry man i— i didn’t know i was hurting her—”

“sure you fucking did she was literally telling you to let go and you were throwing her around like—”

“megumi please—”

“are you part of the crew?”

“y—yeah?”

“you’re gone. you’re fired you’re—”

“wait i’m sorry! i was just trying to get tickets to the world series—”

megumi’s eyes blew open, wild and infuriated.

“that’s why you were grabbing her like that? you were harrassing her for some fucking ticke— you know what—”

megumi stepped forward before you could stop him as he reeled his fist back and knocked him straight in the jaw, the guy stumbling back a bit and the crowd gasping before megumi spun around and grabbed your legs, throwing you over his shoulder.

“get the fuck out of my way.”

the small crowd that stuck around for the altercation parted with no questions asked, his long legs striding over across the exit and to the teams now vacant locker room— kicking the door open before gently setting you down on your feet.

he ran his hands over your soft hair frantically as he grabbed your cheeks and checked you over, your teary doe eyes breaking him apart.

“hey are you okay? are you fine?”

megumi let go of your face and gently lifted your upper arm, his eyes hardening at the purple forming bruise from that dickwads hand.

“he’s gone he’s gone—”

you lunged and wrapped your arms around his waist tightly as he started to charge back out, pulling him back.

“no! stop it’s okay you already hit him i think he got the message.” you mumbled, letting him go.

megumi turned to you then, his eyes softening over your timid sad frame as you played with your fingers, gaze down.

“y/n.”

“hm?”

he frowned.

“can you please look at me.”

you listened reluctantly and peered up at him.

he exhaled. “baby i— i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry for everything that i said to you that night. i meant none of it. nothing. i was just angry at myself and stressed and stupid and i hate that i talked to you like that and took it out on you. you didn’t deserve that at all.”

you hurriedly wiped your silent tears— nodding, but saying nothing.

he leaned down to look at you at eye level.

“are you okay?”

you nodded again and sniffled.

“talk baby.” he pleaded with you gently, eyes sad. “tell me, please.”

you cowered a little as you finally broke into tiny sobs, your hands hovering over your face to hide your tears as he placed his big hands on your upper arms, megumi feeling like he just got run over by an entire military tank at the sight of you crying because of him.

“i—i’m sorry i yelled at you—” you hiccuped. “i was so mean and i f—feel really bad—”

“baby why are you apologizing?” he shook his head. “it’s me it’s all me i’m the one who was mean to you—”

“no but—” you sniffled. “you were just stressed from the game like you said and that’s fine i should’ve been more aware. i didn’t mean to upset you with me talking—”

“oh pretty baby..” he breathed out, agonizingly, megumi literally beating himself up. “remember when i said one time you were too nice for your own good?”

you nodded.

“this is one of those moments. you should be yelling at me and throwing things at me like your best friend did.”

your eyebrows furrowed as you sniffled. “she— she did?”

“she did.” he nodded. “rightfully so.”

you giggled a little, and he smiled softly.

“i’m sorry i distanced myself the way i did…” you mumbled, a waterfall of tears coming down again. “i just thought that i was a distraction and— and i wanted you to focus.”

“a distraction?” he murmured. “y/n you are never a distraction.”

“no but at the end of the day i was…” you sobbed. “you need to be there for your team you have—“ hic! “you have responsibilities and i don’t want you to put me above that and— and keep hanging out with me when you have so much to do—”

“something you need to understand is that i’m replaceable.” he cut you off, tone firm. “the minute they find some other dude that’s way better than me and quicker than me and they draft his ass over to the team? they are going to replace me faster than you will ever think. that’s just the way jobs are. i’m replaceable no matter how much you wanna think it’s not true.”

he shook his head, his face pained. “but you are not. you’re not fucking replaceable there is no other you. you are my life now baby. yes my career is a priority, but so are you, and i would rather them replace me than lose you entirely.”

he wiped the tears from your cheeks, your doe eyes wide.

“i appreciate that you care so much and you support me and that you want me to devote all of my time to only this— you’re an angel on earth for all of that… but as your man i’m telling you that all of my time is devoted to you now, not just baseball.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer to you, tight, him immediately reciprocating and snaking his arms around your waist.

he could finally breathe.

“do you understand?” he murmured softly, rubbing his hands over your back soothingly.

you nodded.

“but you can’t— wear yourself out like you did okay?” you sniffled. “you can’t let them push you and tire you out… and please listen when we say for you to rest…”

“i know i’m sorry. i’ll listen next time baby i promise.”

“i get you trying to improve for yourself and push your limits… but— but there’s a difference between wanting to better your play and straight up wearing yourself down.”

you pulled back a little to look at him, wiping your tears and hiccuping. “and i worry man… i worry so much because i—“ hic! “i love you and i always think about if you’re eating right or— or getting enough sleep—”

his heart literally melted as he felt the remains of it ooze and spread all over his body and insides, your pure sweet concerns tugging at him and turning him into absolute putty before you.

he tightened his grip around your waist and lifted you, gently rocking your bodies as you sniffled and cried, his eyes screwed shut and feeling every possible emotion a human being could ever feel… but feeling love most of all.

love for you. love for who you are.

megumi kissed your wet cheek delicately and let his lips linger there as he spoke.

“i’m in love with you…” he murmured. “i hope you know that.”

your heart fluttered and you nodded, a little smile playing at your face.

“i’m in love with you too gumi.” you hummed, pressing a sweet kiss of your own to his cheek.

he set you back down and cupped your cheeks, slowly leaning in and pressing light tender kisses to your lips, his mouth completely savoring over the taste of yours as he had been deprived of them for a freaking week— feeling like his dried up soul had been rejuvenated and made anew.

and you felt the same way… because you deepened the kiss, picked up the pace, pulled him closer until his chest was flush against yours and your hot breaths were mixed together in a misty cloud, megumi breathing heavily through his nose as he ran his needy desperate hands over your delicious body.

he trailed wet open mouthed kisses on your cheek, jaw, and all the way down to the side of your exposed neck, his hand supporting the other side as he feverishly licked a slow long stripe of spit up your neck with his rough tongue, your fists gripping the sides of his jersey as he nibbled and bit, his lips finally coming to enclose and suck around a certain spot as your breath hitched at how frenzied and sloppy he was being, drool practically running down your neck as he ravished, bit, and sucked over multiple areas.

you shoved your hands down his pants suddenly, and he choked in surprise as his hips thrusted forward, your fingers pumping and palming his hardened cock slowly as his breath shuddered against your neck.

“baby...” he murmured.

“hm?”

“how would you feel if i turned on the shower and fucked my cock in your pretty little cunt for a bit in there huh?…”

a needy whimper slipped past your lips against his ear, and he grew weak.

“is that okay—”

“more than okay—”

you squealed as he wasted no time in picking you up again and walking over to the showers, the both of you clumsily tearing off your clothes as megumi fumbled with the shower switch until luke warm water spritzed from above— entrapping the both of you in a humid trance as megumi squeezed your bare thighs and ushered you to jump, you doing so immediately and wrapping your legs around his waist.

he stepped in and literally slammed the shower door shut, the two of you giggling a little as the soothing water washed over your panting bodies, the sight of his handsome bright face making your cheeks flush and bury your face in his neck in response.

he chuckled softly, gently setting your back against the wet tile wall before kissing you again and again, his mouth messy against your puffy lips as he tried to drink up all that you gave him, the tip of his cock slipping past your folds and brushing against your swollen clit— each time making you squeak and jump.

you didn’t care about anything, your mind reeling and just wanting megumi’s dick inside of you as soon as possible, knowing that you’d never really had sex before and literally not giving a single shit because it was him— someone you trusted the most out of anyone in your life, and someone you wanted to give your all to no matter the circumstance.

he lined his fat tip then against your drooling hole.

“wait! wait the door—“ you gripped his shoulders for support. “the door did you lock it?”

“nope.”

megumi pushed his cock in slowly and gently, your choked gasps and moans echoing inside the shower as his head fell to rest in the crook of your hickey covered neck, him groaning in ecstasy as your gummy warm pussy strangled his dick to the tightest degree, already previously so wet and gushy that it thankfully barely hurt you at all as he bottomed out.

“fuuuckk— you’re warm.” he murmured, gripping your hips like a vice and softly caressing his thumb against your slippery skin to soothe you— hoping (but not really), you’d maybe release the clutch your pussy had on his dick to stop him from already shooting his cum all over your insides like a loser.

he slowly drew his hips back and fucked into you again, you jolting at the force as you fumbled to keep your grip steady on his shoulders, his cock fucking thick and massive as his little curve poked deliciously at your cervix, him gradually increasing his pace as you shuddered over the quick pat pat pat’s echoing through the walls.

“g—gumiii..” you whined.

“what baby?” he mumbled breathlessly, his eyes glued to where his dick connected with your hole as it slipped in and out lewdly, your pussy literally squelching and screaming for him with your bouncing tits in his face that made him clench his jaw in self restraint— trying his hardest not to fucking ram into you like nothing and take you.

“y—you’re biigg!” you hiccuped, your little gasps of breath enticing droplets of cum to leak out of his tip and ooze out of your little wet folds, megumi moaning at your words.

“yeah?” pat pat pat— “s’too much for you baby?”

he picked up the pace, on purpose as he meanly bounced you on his cock and shot his hips up against your pussy, his big heavy balls slapping against your ass and making your eyes fucking cross at the feeling.

“tell me you love me.” he panted. “now.”

“i—“ hic! “i love you—”

megumi grabbed your cheeks with his fingers and mushed them together, grinning deviously at the way your pouty lips pushed out cutely.

“how much.”

“s—so- ah!— so much gumi—”

“more— shit!” he choked, a particular squeeze from your abused cunt almost making him finish. “m— more than anything?”

slap slap slap—

“y—yes!—” you could barely even speak due to the erotic hold he had on your face. “i love you i love you i love—”

you squealed as he let go of your face, gave into his desires and rammed into you, both hands on your bruised hips as he gave your pussy no room to breathe with how fast he was shoving his fat cock inside of you, pounding and pummeling into your guts as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your release build up in your tummy.

“why were you asking me about the door earlier huh?” he panted. “you don’t want anyone to see how much of a” thrust! “slut you are? your legs spread for me like this and your pretty pussy creaming on my dick?”

you whined and moaned so fucking loudly, it ringing through megumi’s ears like a wicked symphony.

he pinched your nipple when you didn’t respond.

“answer me.”

thrust thrust thrust—

“n—no i didn’t!”

“no?”

he gripped your neck and sloppily ran his mouth over yours, feeling his cum on the brink of shooting out.

“m’gonna cum inside.”

“in— mmphf!— inside?”

“you don’t want it?” he let go of your neck. “cause i won’t give it to you if you don’t want it—”

“i do i do!” you scrambled and cupped his cheeks, bringing his lips back in and kissing him messily.

“give it to me gumi please!—“ hic! “eeekkk!”

hot sticky cum pumped out of his tip and into your gushy walls, your high making your toes curl as you creamed around his heavy cock feverishly, megumi’s entire body fucking shivering at the way your pussy felt like it was entirely made and molded for him.

he softly pumped himself inside and out of you, his mouth hung open in a daze as he watched his white cum slide out of your pretty hole and over his still connected dick, gently easing out after a minute and carefully setting you back down— not completely though, as he knew you’d be sore as he leaned most if not all of your body weight against him.

you held each other in a tight embrace then, your heavy breaths trying to find its normal rhythm as the warm water continued to cascade down your bodies, comfortingly.

“why don’t we have sex more often...” you mumbled.

he laughed softly, pecking the side of your head. “i was waiting for you to tell me baby. i didn’t want to pressure you.”

“i was waiting for you to tell me.” you emphasized. “i didn’t want to jump on you and just violate you—”

megumi’s chest vibrated as he laughed again, a cute boyish one that made you bite your lip.

“violate me?” he murmured, an amused smile on his face. “i’d want you to.”

“yeah?” you tilted your head, and his cheeks grew hot.

“yeah.”

finally you and megumi were in sync again, going back into each other’s routines as if the week long hiccup never happened, the both of you officially unraveling the aching knots in your chests that you hauled for seven tormenting days straight— together and attached to the hip once again as he started picking you up for your seven am classes every morning like before, you going to his practices straight after, and spending your hours sleeping in his dark cozy room this time around, snoring your little life away so megumi could recover.

and eventually, the world series arrived.

“my camera! my camera! my digital one did i bring it?!”

you flipped your purse upside down and dumped all of your things on the floor— your lip combo, compact mirror, snacks, random receipts, and small perfume bottle rolling around on the ground until your digital camera was finally in view.

your best friend cackled as she crouched down and helped you pick up your things. “you were taking pictures up megumi’s nose on the two hour drive over here yes you brought it—”

“i know i forgot i’m so nervous what if they lose what if someone fumbles what if—”

you both stood as you rambled on and she placed both of her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. “calm down! they’ll be fine! win or lose they still made it to the world series!”

the crowd roared much like the past two games, except much heavier, louder, more drilling as the music drummed through your body, the air windy but refreshing, and high pitched whistles echoing from around the stadium as everyone anticipated for the biggest game of the season.

you had lost count how many different news stations were here broadcasting the game, how many reporters you saw scrambling across the field trying to interview certain players— you too busy taking pictures of every single little thing and the both of you reapplying your lip liners over a million fucking times— even flagging down a crew member so you could take a picture with just your best friend, your backs to the camera showcasing the last names of your boyfriend’s on your jersey’s.

and when the game officially commenced and the players all went out on the field— megumi and his team did what they always do best, taking control of the scoreboard and earning runs like chump change as they worked professionally to take the trophy home, you constantly snapping pictures of megumi that your digital camera ran out of fucking storage before you even got the shot that you wanted.

eventually after a while of playing, it was megumi’s turn to hit.

“fuck! record for me please record! my camera ran out of storage oh my god use my phone please i love you—”

your best friend laughed as she took your phone from you and did what you asked, your hands on the railing and leaning over it as you anxiously watched him walk up to home plate and take position.

but instead of doing his usual faux swings and repositioned footing, megumi stepped to the side and turned his bat downward, you unable to tell what he was doing as his frame was blocking, his arm moving in various directions before he stepped back again on the home plate and repositioned himself.

your eyes trailed to the ground.

megumi had carved your initials in the dirt.

your girl friend gasped and cooed. “y/nnn!”

as megumi now did his faux swings, your bottom lip only wobbled as your eyes stayed trained to the carvings in the dirt, your heart skipping a thousand beats per minute as the thought of megumi thinking about you out there during one of the most important nights of his life, made you question repeatedly how you ever landed a man like him when all you do is talk and cry.

hit!

your eyes snapped up and you quickly wiped the corners of your eyes, megumi already running across the first two bases as the crowd roared.

“bring it home fushiguro!”

several of his teammates were cheering him on from the dugout, megumi running four runs with just one fucking hit?—

a grand slam.

and suddenly you were taken back to the day you noticed megumi for the first time, just like now with your doe eyes wide and cheeks pink, recognizing the only piece of baseball terminology you knew besides a home run.

except then he was just a stranger you were hopelessly in love with that knew how to play ball like no other.

now though, he’s a man you couldn’t ever imagine your life without. and you didn’t want to.

so as the game reached nine innings, megumi’s team running on the field in a bundle of absolute tears and yells and hollers that they won the world fucking series, all clustering together as they hoisted several players up on their shoulders, including megumi—

you and your best friend instantly booked it down there in a fit of tears.

you had no time to get your personal belongings together as you sprinted across the field like your life fucking depended on it towards megumi— him being put down by his teammates and him frantically looking around after until he spotted you, the brightest smile spreading across his face as he chucked his cap to the side and opened his arms out wide for you.

you jumped in and he spun you around, holding you tight as the screaming crowd surrounding you drowned itself out as you cried into megumi’s neck.

he pulled back, panting.

“did you see how i did a grand slam?”

you nodded rapidly.

“i did it because i knew its the only thing you would recognize!” he yelled over the noise. “so you would feel included when we won!”

oh my god.

he still remembered when you told him that?

“guummiii! how did you even calculate that?!” you cried harder, and he laughed as he spread tiny kisses all over your teary face, his eyes glimmering with absolute unadulterated happiness and bliss, the reality of having the two things he wanted most in life settling into his mind.

megumi didn’t really have a stance on religion— whether the factor is real or not something he didn’t really care about nor mind as he simply just chose to live.

but as he held you on the field, you crying for him and embracing him the way that you were, kissing him the way that you were, megumi only wanted to be covered in your favor. megumi only wanted to devote his entire life to you.

megumi only wanted to believe in you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @hiraethwa @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @vividl3ss

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luveline · 12 days ago

Note

how would clark react to shy!reader wearing cute panties around him for the first time?

cw: mildly suggestive, fem In the privacy of his own home (and mind), Clark calls you his sweet girl. It’s the perfect way to describe you, and while others may find it saccharine or infantilising, he knows you appreciate it for what it is. A sweet girl given some tenderness back.

You’re sitting on the arm of his sofa with your socked feet brushing against the floor, in pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt that cloaks the shape of you. He’s making you a cold lemonade in the kitchen, and if his senses weren’t as sharp as they are he’d have tipped half of it onto the cool tile below. He can’t stop watching you.

You laugh at the TV. “Clark, you’re missing the best part,” you say.

He could knock you back onto the couch and kiss you dizzy when you laugh like that, only he’d never be so rough with you.

“I’m coming,” he promises. “No patience at all. You could’ve paused it for me.”

“I’ll rewind it, if you want.”

Clark couldn’t care less about the movie. What he wants is to be sitting with you again, to pull you into his lap before the sun starts to go down. He needs to get his hours in. They’re owed!

Clark presses the lemonade into your hand, a kiss to your head, catching the click of your jaw from a poorly hidden yawn.

“Oh, honey, are you tired?” he asks. He’d had no idea.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Sure. Okay, but we could finish the movie in bed, right?”

You take a sip of lemonade. Grin at him like he’s perfect when you swallow. “I’m really not that tired.”

“Humour me?”

And oh, don’t you let him take you to bed. He guards your shoulder unnecessarily, pulls the sheets back to help you in while you grumble about being spoiled. Clark puts your movie on and slips into the bed next to you, deciding this is better than the spooning he’d planned on the couch. It would’ve taken ages to convince you that he doesn’t mind your weight. Here in bed, he can lie right beside you without preamble.

You drink your lemonade, nothing so endearing to him as your sips and the way you wipe the condensation from your glass each time rather than let it wet the bed. Clark turns into you, in part due to low self-control, but more because you’re warm and soft to the touch. He puts his forehead on your shoulder and his hand to the hip furthest him. Under the blankets together, you are perfectly cocooned.

Which makes it harder for him when you insist on getting up.

“Where you going?” he asks.

“Just to the bathroom. Gonna freshen up.”

To freshen up, he thinks, and not to brush your teeth. Is he going to presume himself a lucky man from turn of phrase alone? No. But does he sit in bed waiting anxiously for you to return? Yes. Clark wouldn’t say it’s hard to get you out of your clothes, euphemism or otherwise; you aren’t uncomfortable around him anymore, just your tentativeness remains. He has to be gentle with you, and he doesn’t mind.

He isn’t surprised to find you fully dressed when you return, smelling noticeably of lotion and something else he can’t name aptly as you stop at your side of the bed. His stomach flickers with heat as you switch off the bedside lamp, leaving the TV as the only light source.

“Okay?” you ask softly.

“Perfect, sweet girl,” he says, matching your tone, almost lost under the sounds of the movie.

You nod.

His breath catches and stills as you reach for the edge of your shirt and pull it off.

Then you slip your shorts down your hips and Clark’s mind takes time to catch up. Like, a ridiculous amount of time.

You’re not not cute, he wants that cemented in the record forever. You are a darling. In whatever plain white panties you deign to show him, in your simple t-shirt bras and especially out of them, you’re a wonder. Clark can’t believe you’re of earth, sometimes, until he thinks of course you are. You are charmingly, broadly human.

Right now, you’re wearing the cutest matching set he’s ever seen, his mouth immediately cottoned with longing.

They aren’t ‘sexy’, objectively, a fake satin that looks perfectly comfortable to sleep in. The panties have a lettuce hemming, pink fabric, and his entire body has started to fill with a telling heat following the lines of you. “Are those strawberries?” he asks.

You pull the sheets back and set yourself down beside him. Your little ankle socks stay on. Fuck, his blood is practically boiling in his veins.

“Honey, you’re gonna have to let me see,” he says lightly.

“No, ‘cos you looked at me too long. You’re done.”

You’re serious and teasing at once.

“How was I supposed to not look?”

“Practice your restraint,” you say, really joking now. If Clark concentrates he can hear the patter of your heart picking up. Anticipation sends a flush over your skin.

“Let me see you again,” he says, warming your thigh through the sheets. “Please.”

You lay further down in the bed and breathe deeply. “Kiss me first,” you say, and there, he can hear the thread of your nerves, how much courage it actually took you to stand there and shimmy out of your clothes, knowing it was a big change.

“Yeah, I will,” he promises, raising a hand to your cheek. “You– I don’t know how to say it. You’re–” He takes a calming breath as you had. He could be far more gentlemanly about the situation if he tried. “Fuck,” he groans instead, tapping his nose against yours, hovering for a kiss. Sweet girl.

You laugh, self-satisfaction new and wholly delightful on you as you tip your chin up to meet his lips.

Clark pictures the feeling of satin under his fingers and presses eagerly into your mouth.

#clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #clark kent #clark kent fic #clark kent blurb #clark kent drabble #clark kent imagine #clark kent fanfic #clark kent fanfiction #superman x reader #superman #superman x you #superman blurb #superman drabble #superman fanfiction #superman fic

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marvelstoriesepic · 3 months ago

Text

Different, this time

Pairing: Fuck buddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: After the hospital visit and the doctor’s diagnosis, Bucky is plagued with guilt. He won’t touch you again until he is absolutely sure that you’re okay. Once you manage to reassure him, you both discover what it truly means to make love, rather than just fucking with suppressed feelings. And it’s overwhelming in the best way.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: (18+) explicit sexual content, mdni; sickly sweet smut; oral (f receiving); fingering; soft aftercare; mentions of physical pain during sex (past); mentions of cervical bruising; slight mentions of medical scenes; panic attacks (graphic and mentioned); guilt; emotional distress; crying; themes of healing and emotional vulnerability; sad!Bucky; panicked!Bucky; sweetheart!Bucky; lots and lots of worried!Bucky

Author’s Note: Help, I might have ruined myself for any other real man with this. Y’all, this is my first time writing smut, so please be kind!! But I'm not gonna lie, I genuinely loved writing this. Soo I guess, this won’t be the last time you'll have me sharing some smut!! To make things clear, this is the second part to In too deep!! Btw, I was a bit nervous about whether I’d be able to get back into writing longer fics so smoothly, after the 2k drabble challenge, but I’d say I’ve managed lmao. I hope you enjoy ♡

Part One

Masterlist

The car is too quiet.

Outside, the streetlights flicker as if they’re forgetting how to glow.

You are in the passenger seat, watching the world blur past in smudges of gold and grey, your hands folded in your lap, afraid of what they might do if left unsupervised.

The car makes a soft and steady sound beneath you but everything inside feels tight. Too tight.

Like a breath, you haven’t taken.

Bucky hasn’t said a word since you left the hospital.

His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. White like fear. White like bone. White like guilt.

You glance over at him.

He’s staring straight ahead, eyes fixed, unmoving. His jaw is locked so tightly it looks like pain. There is a muscle twitching beneath the skin. Just beneath the hinge of his jaw, like something trying to break free.

The dashboard casts its pale light against his side profile. The soft stutter of passing streetlamps blink shadows across his hardened face.

You try to speak softly. “Bucky-”

“You sure you’re okay?” he interrupts, fast. Too fast. His voice is low but cracked, words splintering on their way out.

You nod before you realize he’s not looking. “Yes,” you say, slower. “I’m sure.” He’s asked about fifteen times in the last twenty minutes. But you think it actually should be you asking him.

The doctor told you that it was a cervical contusion in that although soft but clipped and clinical tone. Said that the bleeding would stop, that the pain would ease, that you were going to be fine - physically.

And the way Bucky flinched after that suggested he was perhaps doing worse than you.

He’s asked a few questions, asked how to treat it, asked what you might need, asked what he can do, but his voice was rough and close to giving out. He sat beside you in that too-white room, hands clenched in his lap, jaw locked as though he could grind down the guilt if he just kept his teeth pressed hard enough. He kept looking at your legs, at the blanket they gave you, as though he was waiting for the blood to start flowing again. As though he’d never trust your body not to break under him.

He listened when your doctor explained that it was moderate, but healing and there would be no lasting damage. You should just give it time and be gentle.

But Bucky didn’t hear healing.

He only heard damage.

He hadn’t said anything after that anymore. Just nodded, once. Swallowed hard. Signed the papers with a hand that shook so violently you had to cover it with yours.

You watch him now, his breath thinning.

“Buck,” you ease softly. “I’m okay. She said it’s healing, alright? I’ll be fine.”

Bucky shakes his head once. Sharp. A slice through the silence. “She said it could’ve been worse. That it could’ve-” He swallows loud, and doesn’t finish the sentence.

“But it’s not,” you remind him gently, almost wanting to reach out but not knowing if he needs that right now.

But Bucky doesn’t answer.

Then, you do reach for his arm, tenderly. Fingers brushing over his sleeve. But he flinches. Not from you. From himself. From the memory.

“Buck-”

“I should’ve noticed,” he snaps, and his voice breaks. Just a little. A fracture, clean through. “You said yes. You always say yes, and I- I should’ve seen it- I should’ve fucking known-”

His foot slips heavier on the gas.

The lane lines start to blur.

“Bucky,” you say again, firmer.

But he doesn’t answer.

His eyes dart from the windshield to the mirrors, unfocused. His shoulders have hiked up around his ears. His left hand twitches, his right one follows, tapping the wheel with restless, erratic beats.

His breathing is shallow. Too fast.

You can feel the swell of something too big inside him, pressing against his ribs, rising like floodwater. His grip on the wheel has gone rigid, too stiff for control. His shoulders are locking up.

“Bucky-”

His chest heaves harshly.

He blinks - once, twice - too slow.

His jaw is clenched so tight you can see the muscle fluttering beneath his skin. His breath is sharp, teeth grinding as he sucks in through his nose and lets it out in gasps through his mouth.

“I hurt you,” he croaks, voice undone, shredded. “I fucking hurt you- I was inside you- I didn’t even see-”

The wheel jerks. Just for a second. Enough to drift too close to the lane line.

You shoot forward in your seat. Alarm ringing in your ears.

“I-” he gasps, blinking fast. “Y/n, I can’t- I can’t- I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to-”

Reaching over to grab the wheel, you wrap your hands about Bucky’s, forcing it steady.

“Okay, okay, I got it. I’ve got you, baby. But we have to pull over.”

Bucky is trembling now. Hands frozen. Breath ragged. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face, catching the glow of a red traffic light.

You guide the car gently to the side, one hand over his as you steer, the other flicking on the hazards, keeping your voice and your movements calm for the sake of Bucky’s rising panic attack even as your heart thunders in your chest.

Bucky brakes too hard and too fast, the tires stuttering on the asphalt as though they are afraid of where he’ll go if they don’t stop him. The moment the engine falls quiet, the silence screams.

And Bucky falls apart.

His head drops forward. Hands over his eyes. Whole body shaking.

He’s still in the driver’s seat but he’s not in his body. His breathing is wild. His chest is heaving in sharp and panicked pulls and you realize he’s trying to get in air but can’t. His left hand is rashly fumbling for the door handle to keep himself tethered.

“Bucky,” you whisper, already unbuckling your seat belt. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

But he doesn’t hear you. He is stuck in some dark, echoing place inside himself and it won’t let him out.

Without hesitation, you move over the console and climb into his lap, settling gently on his thighs, facing him, your knees pressed into the edges of the seat.

Your hands come to his face, cradling it carefully - thumbs brushing over the hollow beneath his eyes, the flushed heat of his cheeks. His skin is clammy, cold.

He still can’t breathe.

You press your forehead to his. Anchor him.

His eyes squeeze together tightly.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, Buck. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He shakes his head, choking out words you can’t make out because they all end up in a sob.

“James,” you start, and this time your voice is different. This is the sound you make when you’re scared and concerned and you need him to come back. “James. Breathe with me. You’re here with me. We’re okay.”

He shakes his head again, but it’s jerky, frantic.

“I hurt you,” he whimpers. “I hurt you. I should’ve known. I should’ve stopped-”

“No, no. Stop. Listen to me,” you whisper, voice low, brushing his tear-damp hair back from his face. “You checked in on me and I told you I was okay. I said I was fine. You trusted me, Bucky. That’s not your fault.”

He’s still trembling. Still trying to outrun the guilt in his lungs.

But you don’t move. You stroke his hair back, kiss his temples, his forehead, his nose.

His eyes finally meet yours. They are wide and wet and red, brimming with horror. He looks as though he wants to disappear inside himself.

You keep hold of his face, brushing tears away so tenderly. “It was my body. My voice. You didn’t know, and I didn’t tell you. That’s not on you. You never hurt me on purpose. I need you to hear that, Bucky.”

His chest heaves once, twice, then breaks apart with a cry. He pulls you closer, buries his face in your neck. His arms wrap around you like a man drowning.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffs again and again. “I’m so sorry.”

You close your eyes and run your fingers through his hair, slow and grounding.

“I know,” you whisper back. “I know you are. But you don’t have to be. I just need you here with me. Right now. Just breathe, Buck.”

And you guide him through it. Deep breathes. In and out. He follows.

And you hold him. As though he’s the one who’s breakable now.

****

You’ve never known silence like this.

Not the kind that’s empty. Not the kind that comes after slamming doors and burnt-out candles and sharp things unsaid. No, this silence is soft. Living. It seeps into your lungs and expands with each inhale, as though it wants to make space for something new.

Bucky is in the kitchen, stirring a spoon through a mug of tea as though it’s the most important thing in the world.

You’re sitting on his couch, knees tucked to your chest, wrapped in one of his henleys that hangs too big on you in all the right places. It’s quiet in your head for the first time in what feels like weeks.

The sky outside has folded into a kind of blue that feels more like velvet than color. The windows are cracked open, the summer breeze floating in, lazy and gold-edged, breathing over your skin like a whisper of someone who never learned to shout.

You’ve been here since late afternoon.

And everything smells like home at his place. Like Bucky. Cedar and cotton and chamomile. There’s a ticking of the wall clock he always pretends not to hate. Next to you lay the neatly folded blanket Bucky always pulls onto your lap when the AC kicks in too high.

Bucky brings you the tea like he always does and doesn’t let go of the mug until he’s sure your fingers are steady around it.

Then he sits down beside you, careful and close. His arm brushes yours and then he pulls back as though even that was too much. His eyes search yours. They always do now. As if he’s checking the weather behind your gaze before he says anything.

“You feelin’ okay?” he asks, voice rough. He probably hasn’t spoken all day before you came over.

You nod, and it’s mostly true. “I’m okay,” you say softly. “I promise.”

The TV is playing something you’re only half-watching, some indie movie with subtitles and sad music.

Bucky lets his arm drape behind your shoulders, over the back of the couch and you hear his fingers tracing the stitches in the seam of the couch. His gaze drifts to the TV but you know he’s not really watching. His eyes flick across the screen but his mind is somewhere else still. You don’t have to guess where.

That weight, that guilt, hasn’t let up.

And it’s not just the incident itself - it’s the panic he spiraled into afterward, the way you had to calm him down when you were the one who had been in pain. That’s what sits the heaviest on him, you think. That you comforted him, wrapped your arms around his trembling frame, and whispered soothing reassurances while your body was still in fresh pain.

You watch the line of his profile, the glimmer of the screen painting shadows beneath his cheekbone. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, and there is a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there when you were only fuck buddies.

You’ve talked a lot. About everything. The incident. The aftermath. Your relationship. About what it all means and what it doesn’t, about what you both want and what you both fear. The hard words are behind you now, sorted and softened. And you’re not just his maybe anymore. You’re his. Official. Quietly, fully.

And still, he treats you as though you might not be. As though you’re a snowflake he caught in his hands and he’s afraid to close his fingers.

He’s still scared. Scared of doing something wrong. Scared of missing something again. Scared of hurting you again. You feel it in the way he touches you now - fingertips like feathers on your skin, always asking with and without words if you’re okay. Always watching, always listening.

He treats you like glass now. But glass that’s already cracked.

And you’ve tried to tell him again and again that you’re fine.

But Bucky has always been hard on himself. Especially when it comes to you and your well-being.

His fingers brush your shin slightly and the contact strikes, heat blooming low in your stomach.

You shift closer and Bucky’s attention snaps to you. He watches you move, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips and then darting back up, catching himself. You’re not sure if it’s nerves or habit, that reflex to hesitate.

But he’s been hesitating for weeks.

Weeks of healing. Weeks of slow walks and softer kisses and quieter touches.

You haven’t had sex since.

You wanted to. You were ready. But Bucky wanted to wait. To be sure. To be careful. To do it right this time.

And you let him. You let him wrap you in all that caution and care. Let him fuss and hover and bring you your favorite snacks, let him hold you through the night without reaching for anything more than the sound of your breathing against his chest. You let him because it’s what he needed.

But you are fine now.

Your body doesn’t ache anymore. You’ve healed. Fully. You know this because you’ve checked. Alone. With your fingers and your breath and the soft test of space. And you’ve told him, more than once. But Bucky is stubborn with his guilt, protective.

So you’ve waited. Because you love him.

But you notice the way Bucky keeps glancing at you, his eyes catching on your thighs, the shape of your mouth, the way his shirt hangs loose on your frame every time you wear it.

You notice it right now.

Moving your feet, you place them right on Bucky’s lap and feel the shift in his thigh muscle beneath you. The way his hand on your shin stills, the way the hand behind your shoulders drifts closer, then stops, fingers curling as though they’ve touched a flame.

“Movie’s boring,” you murmur, leaning your head on his shoulder, voice lazy with comfort.

He chuckles, a little breathless, a little nervous, low in his chest. “Didn’t even know what it was.”

His eyes catch yours. He’s looking at you as though you’ve said something profound.

Your hand slips up to cup his cheek, your thumb sweeping gently across the faint stubble there. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, as though your touch still startles him, still humbles him.

“Hi,” you whisper.

He swallows. Opens his eyes. Immediately, they drop to your mouth. Then back to your eyes. And again.

“Hi,” he breathes.

You lean in first.

The kiss is gentle. Familiar. Something well-loved.

He tastes of cinnamon and hesitation. He kisses you with a kind of slowness that seems almost like another apology, another question if you’re okay.

His hand finds your waist, the other brushes the back of your neck, and they hold you so carefully you want to cry. You press closer. Push into the kiss. Let it deepen.

And for a moment, with a soft groan, he lets go.

His grip tightens. His mouth opens. His body leans into yours, chest brushing chest, thighs pressing close.

His mouth moves with yours as though it remembers exactly where it left off. Deep. Thoughtful.

You sigh against him. The movie flickers behind your closed eyelids.

Your name escapes him in a breath, his hands tighten a fraction, shaking slightly. His breath stutters, the kiss deepens, and suddenly he’s pulling away.

His brows are furrowed and he looks at you slightly panting. “What are you doing?” he asks, cautious, worried.

You blink, lips swollen, a little dazed. You answer with a small, amused tilt of your head. “I’m kissing my boyfriend.”

He flushes visibly, face burning red, but he doesn’t smile, and that line between his brows doesn’t ease. His jaw flexes. “I just- I know we’ve talked,” he starts, voice hushed, breathy. “And you say you’re okay, but I just don’t wanna rush this. You know? I don’t want to push you. Or hurt you. Or do this just because I’m-”

He shifts slightly, adjusting himself. The movement reveals the hardening outline of him in his sweatpants.

“I’m not rushing, Buck. We-”

“I am though. I didn’t mean to- but it got kinda- fast, and-” He stops. Runs a hand through his hair. His voice is tight now. “I just need to be sure, doll. I need to know you’re okay. Completely.”

You press your forehead to his, arms slipping around his neck. Your voice is a soft brush. “I am okay. Really. It’s been weeks, Bucky. Everything’s healed. The doctor said it. I said it. And I’m telling you again.”

He swallows. You feel it. That pulse in his throat working hard to steady itself. He looks at you, hard. Searching. Maybe trying to see inside you.

“I just… I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything.” A rough tremor runs through his voice.

“I don’t,” you ease quickly, shaking your head. “I want this, Bucky. And I’ve been listening to my body. I’m okay.” Leaning down, you kiss his jaw, just below his ear. He shivers. “And I trust you.”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. His voice is thick, strained. “Still. I don’t wanna rush you. Not if there’s even a part of you that’s unsure. I mean- hell, what if- what if something hurts again? I couldn’t-”

You stop him gently with a hand to his chest. “Then we stop. Just like that. And we talk. Just like we’ve been doing.”

He stares at you for a moment. And you can see how words pool behind his eyes but don’t make it to his lips.

“Okay,” he whispers then, voice coarse. “Okay. Just… don’t want you to ever feel like you have to fix me by doing this. Don’t wanna take something from you just because I’ve got issues.”

“Hey.” You shake your head, fingers in his hair now. “That’s not what this is. I want this. I want you.”

He groans, quiet and exposed, tilting his head back against the cushion. His hands grip your hips. He’s flushed, already half-hard against your thigh and visibly trying to hide it.

You smirk a little. “Let me help with that.”

His eyes widen. “Doll-”

“I feel fine, baby,” you repeat, patient, but smiling. “I promise.”

“I’m not gonna let you do something just for me.” A rasp in his voice makes his words sound slightly scratchy.

You tilt your head. “Then maybe it’s for me. Ever think of that?”

He groans softly, hands squeezing you. “I’m trying to do the right thing-”

“Then let me show you I’m okay,” you state warmly.

His eyes close. A beat. Two. Three. He breathes out, slow.

You grin, your hands tracing circles over his chest. “I’m healed. I’m ready. You’re my boyfriend. What’s the problem here?”

He laughs something broken, something between admiration and disbelief. Then he sighs, eyes soft.

“You’re really okay?”

“I am.”

Pressing a tender kiss to your temple, he whispers into your ear, voice gravel. “We’ll go slow, yeah? Real slow. And you tell me if anything hurts, or if you’re uncomfortable.”

You nod immediately and brush his cheek lovingly and soothingly at the pain that’s still lingering in the corners of his voice. “I promise.”

****

He doesn’t rush.

He doesn’t dare.

Bucky lays you down as though you’re something he’s never been allowed to hold before - as if someone plucked the stars from the sky, wrapped them in silk, and gave them to him with a whispered don’t drop this.

It’s not rushed. It’s not eager. It’s not even lustful, not exactly.

It’s love. In slow motion. In devotion. In the way he arranges your body like a painting.

The cotton sheets are warm beneath you. Bucky kneels beside you, hovering, breathing slow and tight through his nose.

His hand cups your face. And he’s looking at you as though you are light. A glowing and living thing that he’s afraid to reach for too fast, he’s afraid of casting shadows on.

His gaze is soft and dark and unblinking. You can feel how full it is, how heavy. And it warms you. Like honey across your skin. Like sunrise slowly coming alive.

You smile up at him. “Bucky.” His name sounds like an invitation. Open. Safe. As though it belongs between your lips.

“I’m here,” he says, hardly a whisper. “You sure?” he asks, his voice low. Throaty. Careful. His thumb strokes your cheek as though it’s still asking.

You nod. But it’s not enough, so you pull him closer. Whisper against his mouth. “I want you.” A breath. “I trust you.”

He exhales all at once, and it comes out as a shiver.

After a pause, he leans down, kisses your forehead first. Then the top of your nose. Then, back to your mouth - and it’s gentle. It’s so gentle. As though he’s practicing reverence. Reminding himself you’re real.

“Tell me everything,” he murmurs. His hand on your cheek, your waist, your thigh. “I wanna know what feels good. What doesn’t. I want to hear every sound you make. I want to see your face every second. I wanna be right here with you, baby. Every second. You don’t gotta be quiet with me. Not ever.”

You nod, breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. Because this is love in a language that isn’t words.

And he’s fluent in it. Fluent in you.

His fingers slide up the hem of the shirt you’re wearing - his shirt. And he pauses again.

“Can I take this off?” His voice is low. Strained. Still asking. Still making space.

You nod again. “Please.”

He swallows. You feel the tremble in his hands as he lifts the fabric slowly, cautiously, peeling away something important. He watches your face the whole time. Checks for flinches. For hesitation. For any sign that you might change your mind.

You lift your arms for him, and he helps you out of it without ever breaking eye contact.

And suddenly your chest is bare.

And Bucky hasn’t looked away from your face.

You almost laugh. Maybe you even almost cry. He’s so careful. As though he genuinely wants to memorize your expression with every inch of skin he reveals.

Only after a beat - when you don’t hide, don’t shift away - do his eyes begin to travel downward.

You watch him watching you. And it’s not hunger you see. It’s awe.

He seems to see you in full color and it makes your skin prickle with pleasurable heat.

His fingers trail down your sides, featherlight. Your ribs. Your hips. He touches you as though he’s learning you all over again.

Then his thumb glides up to brush the underside of your breast. You feel him exhale through his nose, shaky.

“God,” he whispers, rolling the words out with care. “You’re so beautiful.”

You don’t say anything. Just reach up, tangle your fingers in his hair. Pull him down to kiss you again, slow and long and open.

And he melts.

He moves over you, between your legs, still careful, still holding most of his weight off you. And he takes his time kissing you, your lips, until his mouth follows the path of his hands. Trailing across your collarbone, down to the softest parts of you. Every kiss is a question. Every breath against your skin is a vow.

When he reaches your stomach, he pauses again. Resting his forehead there like a man at prayer.

He takes another shaky breath and you soothe your hands over his dark locks, treading your fingers into his hair. Your thumb traces the back of his neck, bringing him back to the present.

He exhales. It sounds like surrender. “You gotta know how much I love you, baby.”

You do. You’ve known it since that day those few weeks ago. You know it by the way he moves. By the way he treats you. By the way he touches you. By the way he doesn’t rush.

“I love you too, Buck,” you whisper sweetly and his breath is broken against your skin.

He presses a kiss to your hipbone. Then lower.

His hands are back at your thighs now - sliding under, lifting gently. He kisses the inside of your knee, then the soft skin just above it, his breath trembling.

“You’ll tell me if anything doesn’t feel right,” he says, looking up but not taking his lips off your skin.

“I will,” you promise, getting breathless already.

“And if you want to stop-”

“I’ll tell you,” you assure him, softly, firmly.

He nods.

Then he leans forward and lays a kiss over your pubic bone. So worshipful. So loving.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until his fingers ghost over the waistband of your underwear - and stop there.

“Still okay?” he breathes, so quiet, it almost doesn’t make it out of his mouth. But it carries so much. Every syllable wrapped in worry, wrapped in memory. He’s still afraid something will crack open inside you if he touches the wrong place, the wrong way.

You nod.

But that’s not enough.

“Say it,” he whispers, and there’s a tremor in his voice again. “I need to hear you say it.”

You reach for him. Take his face in your hands, thumbs brushing over the apples of his cheeks. His skin is warm, flushed. His eyes are already glassy.

“I’m okay, baby,” you whisper, your voice soft but sure. “I want you to do this.”

With a pained exhaled sound and fluttering lashes, he nods and goes to kiss your thigh again. Then the dip of your hip. Then right beside the soft curve of your center. You feel the warm puff of his breath against the fabric and it makes your hips twitch.

And then he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and pulls them down. Slowly. Unwrapping something too precious to tear.

He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t let his gaze wander greedily. He watches your face, every second of it - watching for hesitation, for discomfort, for pain. But all you give him is anticipation.

When the fabric slips down your thighs, past your knees, and finally off the ends of your toes, he sets it aside so carefully it almost makes you laugh. As though it’s something important.

Then he settles between your legs again. And he just looks.

He drinks in the sight of you, as though he’s parched. As though you’re the first drop of water he’s seen in weeks. His tongue darts out, barely wetting his lips. His hands spread your thighs wider, gently. Tenderly. As though he’s parting pages in a sacred text.

“You’re so-” he swallows. “Jesus, you’re-”

But he doesn’t finish.

He lowers his mouth to you instead.

The first kiss between your legs is featherlight. Half a breath. But it makes your whole body arch, your breath stutter.

Bucky groans softly into you - a sound of both restraint and desperate, helpless desire.

“Sorry,” you pant, chest rising too fast. “I didn’t-”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he rasps, voice dark with awe. “God, that was- do it again.”

And you do. You can’t help it.

He licks you again - slower this time. Broader. Firmer. His lips move with practice, but not routine. There’s nothing careless about the way he touches you. Every movement is deliberate. As though he’s re-learning you. Learning how you feel like being his. Utterly and completely. Studying the way your body blooms beneath his mouth.

And he keeps checking in.

He doesn’t ask again with words. He does it with his eyes, every time he lifts his gaze to yours. He does it with his hand, the way he curls his fingers around your hip but doesn’t grip, the way he strokes his thumb along your skin in circles, grounding you. The way he takes hold of your hand with his other, encouraging you to squeeze him in your pleasure.

You moan. Soft and breathy.

And Bucky’s whole body reacts - you can see it in the way his hips shift against the mattress, the way he groans into you as though your pleasure is his own.

And he’s holding himself back, still. You can see it in the tight line of his shoulders, the way his hand shakes a little as it holds your thighs open. He’s painfully hard. You can feel the heat of it, see the outline pressing into the sheets, but he doesn’t move to relieve it.

Because this moment is for you.

This is your healing, your pleasure, your gift.

And god, does he worship you.

He takes his time.

He kisses you between licks, soft and open-mouthed, as though he can’t decide whether he wants to devour you or just memorize you. His tongue moves in slow, perfect circles. Then strokes up. Down. Gentle flicks, patient and watchful. Never too much, never too fast.

He listens. Learns.

Every time your breath catches, every time your hips twitch and your fingers tighten against his hand and the sheets, he adjusts. Builds on it. Builds you.

“Tell me what feels good,” he breathes against you.

“Everything,” you gasp, struggling to take in air.

“Yeah?” He kisses your clit once, then again, light and tender. “Right here?”

You nod, too dizzy to speak, sighing softly.

He hums into you. “So good, baby. You’re doing so good.”

Your hands reach down, weaving through his hair and he groans when you pull just slightly.

He’s hard and leaking and untouched, but he still doesn’t seem to care. You’re shaking beneath his mouth and that’s all he needs.

“Bucky,” you whimper, high and trembling. “I’m- close-”

“I’ve got you,” he utters, fingers tightening just slightly on your hips. “I’ve got you, baby. Let go for me.”

And you do. You let yourself fall.

Gasping, shaking, your thighs clenching around his head and Bucky holds you through it. He stays there, mouth softening against you, kissing you through every aftershock. You don’t see him watching you. Slowing his movements. Letting you come down in your own time.

And when he finally comes up, his lips are wet and his eyes wild with wonder.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You nod. Voice gone. Words gone. Heart full.

And all he does is smile. The softest smile in the world.

You continue trembling when he climbs up your body again.

His hands frame your ribs, then your face, then your hair - as if he can’t decide which part of you he wants to hold first. His mouth is damp from you. His pupils are blown. But even with the flush of his skin, the pulse in his throat, the strain pressing hard against his boxers - he doesn’t rush.

He doesn’t even reach for himself yet.

He’s just looking at you. As though you’re art. His. And he’s still trying to build sense around that.

You lift a hand to his face. Trace his cheekbone, his brow, and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering.

“Your turn,” you whisper.

Uncertainty flashes through his eyes. “Only if you’re sure. We can stop here, baby.”

You smile warmly. “I’m aching for you, Barnes. Can’t leave me hanging here.”

His throat bobs. His cheeks burn deeper, as though you’ve spoken something too tender, too vulnerable.

But he nods.

And slowly, Bucky rises to his knees.

His fingers go to the hem of his shirt and you watch the fabric lift over his stomach, up his ribs, his chest, and then finally over his head.

And it never gets easier seeing him like this.

He’s stunning.

He is solid and sculptured and beautiful. His shoulders broad and corded with muscle, his waist lean, his skin golden in the soft bedroom light.

And still, he looks at you as if you are the masterpiece.

He hisses softly, when he frees himself out of his boxers, hard and heavy and flushed dark at the tip. He’s leaking, aching, but even now he doesn’t let that take over.

He braces above you, forehead pressed to yours, one hand sliding down to cup your face again.

“You’ll tell me,” he insists lowly, “if anything feels wrong.”

“I promise,” you respond quietly.

“And you’re sure you’re-”

“I feel perfect,” you interrupt gently. “Because of you.”

His breath hitches. You feel his body tense.

And still, he hesitates. He glances down your body, past your hot skin and the slick heat still dripping between your thighs. His fingers hover just below your navel.

“Let me- just one-” he murmurs, already sliding a hand between your legs. “Just want to make sure-”

But the moment his fingers glide through your folds, and he feels how wet you still are from his mouth, he lets out a deep, strangled groan.

His gaze jerks up to yours. Wide. Disbelieving.

“Oh,” you tease softly. “Surprised?”

He reddens deeply. Face and neck and chest. Even the tips of his ears turn pink. He twitches against your thigh.

“You really didn’t know what you were doing to me?” you whisper.

His eyes dart away for half a second - bashful. Then back to yours.

He leans in. Presses his lips to your temple. Your cheek. The corner of your mouth. A trail of kisses.

“I just wanted to take care of you,” he breathes thickly. “Didn’t even think about- fuck, baby.”

You giggle softly, stroking the back of his neck. He groans again, burying his face in your neck and staying there for a few heartbeats, clinging to you.

But his hand stays between your legs. He doesn’t dive in. Just lingers. “Still have to make sure, yeah, baby?” he whispers into your skin.

You nod, soft. “Okay.”

And then he moves. Slowly. Carefully. He pulls his head back and his eyes fall between your legs. Then back to watch you. Watch your mouth, your eye, your breath.

His fingers dip lower, about to touch you in a way that means everything. You see his throat work around a swallow.

He sinks one finger in, soothingly and dragging it out. His other hand braces beside your hip as though he needs the ground. He stops at the first knuckle.

Watching your face. Searching. Always looking for a sign of pain.

You sigh, your mouth parting on a soft moan. Not from discomfort.

From relief. From the feel of him.

Bucky’s gaze flares.

“Okay?” he whispers.

You nod. “Yeah,” you breathe out.

He pushes in a little deeper. Then again. Until the full length of his finger is buried inside you.

You whimper. Arch, just slightly. His name slips out.

And Bucky stills. Blinks. As though the sound alone managed to take his breath away.

“Oh, fuck,” he exhales in a sigh. His gaze is so focused on you. He is all you can think about.

You bite your lip, watching him with stars in your eyes.

His fingers curl a little inside you and your breath catches again, back arching. And that has him groaning under his breath, leaning forward as though he just needs to be closer, deeper.

He kisses your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth.

And with his eyes on yours, he gently and ever so cautiously slips in another finger beside the first. This time even slower.

Your body shifts to accommodate him and he feels it. Feels the way you welcome him, wrap around him. How warm you are. How soft.

His breathing stutters.

You moan again.

And still, he stops. Right at the knuckle. Eyes locked on yours.

“You okay?” he rasps, halfway there to lose his voice.

“Yes,” you manage to get out, voice almost pleading. “More, Bucky, please-”

And he gives you more. Goes deeper. Until both fingers are sheathed inside you and he’s filling you just enough to make your toes curl, just enough for his name to fall off your tongue again in a way that almost leaves Bucky gasping.

He watches you. He doesn’t blink.

He curls his fingers gently, once, and when your hips lift off the mattress just a little, when your mouth falls open and your eyes flutter shut in pleasure, he groans again. Buries his face in your shoulder. Just like before.

“Jesus Christ,” he exclaims roughly.

You stroke the back of his neck.

His hands still inside you, as though he needs a second to breathe.

And after a few shaky breaths, he starts moving again. Fingers stroking that spot deep inside you, slow and perfect and gentle. His lips brush your shoulder. Your collarbone. He kisses your heart, trying to memorize how it beats.

And even though you feel his swollen member against your thigh, red and ready, he doesn’t move to use it.

Because you’re not ready until he is sure you are.

Not just wet. Not just eager. Ready.

So he watches you. Watches every moan. Every gasp. Every quiver of your thighs, every arch of your spine.

Until you fall apart on his fingers.

And it’s the way you come undone under the gentlest version of his touch, that truly seems to make him need you.

He slides his fingers out slowly after he guides you through your high, like an apology, like a thank you.

And meets your eyes. They are full. His voice is low when he speaks. Hoarse.

“Okay,” he starts. “Okay. I’m gonna start slow.”

You nod, biting your lip.

And he reaches down to line himself up.

There is a pause. A beat of stillness.

You feel the head of him pressing just barely against you. His breath catches. Your breath catches.

His eyes snap to yours. “Tell me if-”

“I will,” you promise, eagerness in your tone. “Just get in, honey.”

He pushes in. The stretch is slow. So, so slow.

You feel every inch of him, and he feels it, too. His mouth falls open, eyes wide, as though the sensation shocks him. As though it’s different now to be inside you, to be with you like this, now that you wholly belong to each other.

He groans - soft, drawn-out. The sound is being dragged from deep in his chest.

You clench instinctively, and he curses under his breath, forehead dropping to yours, eyes staying on you.

“Shit, baby- fuck-”

You hold onto his shoulders. His waist. Anything you can reach. You’re both shaking.

But he doesn’t push in all the way. Not yet. He pauses halfway in, breathing ragged, eyes continuing to search your face.

You talk before he can ask. “You can keep going.”

“Promise me.”

You kiss him. Sweet and slow and sure.

“I promise.”

And so he moves - just a little more - and the moan that rips out of him is wounded, as though pleasure hurts. As though being this close to you is almost too much.

But he doesn’t let himself close his eyes. Doesn’t let them move away from your face.

And when he’s finally seated fully inside you, his hips flush against yours, you both just breathe.

Still. Connected.

He doesn’t move at first. Just holds himself there - deep inside you. Anchoring himself to the moment, to your body, to the fact that you’re okay. That you want this. That you’re here.

And he’s trying not to cry.

You can see it in the way his lashes flutter, in the glassy sheen on his cheeks that catches the light.

His forehead leans against yours, breath hot over your mouth.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers. One word. As though it contains a hundred.

“It’s okay,” you whisper back. “You’re okay.”

His eyes stay open. You don’t think he’s blinked since he pushed in.

They are pinned to yours like if he looks away for even a second something might go wrong. He’s watching your eyes for any sign of pain. And you know he won’t close his own until he knows you’re safe.

“I can feel how hard you’re holding back,” you start quietly, gently, fingers brushing the sweat-damp strands from his forehead. “You can move, Buck.”

He doesn’t. His throat bobs. Jaw flexing.

“God,” he breathes. “You feel so good- too good- but I don’t want to- fuck, baby, I don’t want to hurt you again-”

“You won’t. You say it firmly, but still with a sweet voice. Your thumb strokes the dimple in his chin. “You didn’t before. It wasn’t your fault. And it’s not going to happen again.”

He breathes in as though your words might soothe something broken in him. But still, he doesn’t move. Not until you speak again.

“I need you, Bucky.”

And something in him crumbles. Slowly, painstakingly, he pulls his hips back just an inch, then slides forward again, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. He’s watching, reading, studying every twitch of your mouth, your brows, every flutter of your lashes, every breath you take.

“Is that-” he breathes, “-was that okay?”

You nod, voice thick. “Yes. Yes, Buck, it’s perfect.”

And he moves again.

Tiny, tender thrusts. Gentle. Devoted.

It’s not even about pleasure, it’s about closeness. About the feeling of him. The heat of his skin. The tremble in his arms as he holds himself up above you. The way he groans, low and broken, every time he slides a little deeper.

His eyes won’t leave you.

Not even when his lashes are heavy with heat and he has to force them to stay open. Not even when his mouth opens and he exhales a shaky, stuttering breath that tells you he’s feeling everything. But he fights to keep them open. To see you.

You run your fingers through his hair, trying to get him to let go. “I feel good, baby. I’m okay.”

But he just shakes his head. Leans down and kisses you. Slow. Melting. Deep.

“I want to watch you feel good,” he says huskily. “Need it. Need to make sure.”

And then he thrusts a little deeper.

It’s so painfully careful but still enough to steal your breath. You gasp, clutching his shoulders, hips rising to meet his.

His eyes roll back. His whole body shudders. “Fuck,” he groans. “Don’t do that. God, sweetheart, you’re ruining me.”

You smile through the moan that slips past your lips. “That’s kind of the point.”

He laughs, a real and broken little laugh, but it cracks at the edges. He is overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by you.

He rocks into you again. A little deeper. A little more sure. Still slow, still soft - but he’s feeling it now, letting his hips follow the rhythm you’re building together.

You cling to him.

He is panting. Tiny tremors running through his arms. His left hand slides beneath your back, holding your closer, lifting your chest to his so your hearts are touching - so he can feel every beat of you against him.

His voice is low and trembling. “Tell me again,” he pleads, strained. “Please, tell me it’s okay-”

“It’s better than okay,” you gasp, nails dragging down his back. “I’m perfect. You’re perfect. Don’t stop.”

He kisses you. Desperate now. His rhythm falters for a second, too lost in the way your mouth tastes.

Then he pulls back, just far enough to look at you. His gaze is devastated. Open. Admiring.

“I love you,” he sighs.

And your heart bursts.

You take his face in your hands, voice breaking with feeling.

“I love you too.”

And it happens slowly. Then all at once.

He watches you fall apart as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful. As though your pleasure is a sunrise he never thought he’d survive long enough to see. As though every sigh, every gasp, every whisper of his name is another stitch holding his broken heart together.

You feel him shaking. Hear him whisper things he doesn’t seem to know he’s saying. “Shit, baby, look at you- so perfect- so good- fuck, baby-”

One of his hands grips beneath your thigh, thumb stroking soothing circles into your skin. The other tangles in your hair, holding your forehead to his as though he needs the connection to stay whole.

He’s watching your face as if it’s a map. Tracing every change in expression, every whimper and moan, every flicker of ecstasy that breaks across your features.

And you can feel it building. Low and hot, coiling tight in your belly. Your body trembling, hips lifting to meet his in soft, desperate little movements. Your breaths coming fast, faster. His name spilling from your mouth, making him shudder.

“Buck- Bucky- I’m- don’t stop.”

He falters. Just once. Just enough for him to whisper. “You’re close.”

You nod, gasping.

And that’s all it takes for him to shift slightly. Just enough to hit the angle he knows drives you insane. He leans in, nose brushing your cheek, lips at your ear. “Let go for me, my sweetheart. Please. I’ve got you. Always got you.”

And your whole body locks around him, your voice breaking into something wild and soft, pleasure cursing through your veins, hot and blinding and complete.

You come with his name on your tongue.

His eyes snap shut.

That’s all it takes.

He gasps, chokes on a breath, and then he’s gone - spilling into you with a groan that sounds like heartbreak and heaven all at once. His whole body arches, hands gripping you tight, holding on for dear life, burying himself in you. As though he wants to pour every ounce of his love into you and never come back.

His mouth meets your shoulder, kissing your skin as though he has all the time in the world.

“Jesus,” he breathes. “I’ve never- fuck- never felt anything like that.”

Neither have you.

Because this wasn’t just fucking. This wasn’t the kind of sex you’ve been having for so long.

This was something else.

This was love, laid bare. No games. No fear. No walls. Just skin and breath and heartbeats and truth.

He stays inside you. Doesn’t dare move. Not yet.

His face is tucked into your neck, breath hot and trembling.

You card your fingers through his hair, kissing the shell of his ear, the slope of his shoulder. “You okay?”

He nods. A slow, solemn little nod. Then pulls back just enough to look at you.

And the look in his eyes is too much.

As though he’s never going to recover from this. He doesn’t want to.

He brushes his fingers down your cheek and kisses you leisurely.

“I love you,” he says again, still searching for air. “More than anything.”

You whisper it back. Because you do.

Bucky keeps hovering above you even though he already brought you home. The way he presses his lips to your temple and cradles your jaw in his palm as though you’re the last delicate thing in the world.

You breathe him in. He breathes you in. His forehead rests against yours, sticky with sweat, the kind of closeness that makes time irrelevant.

“You okay?” he whispers quietly. His voice cracks right down the middle.

You nod, throat too tight for words, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t take the nod as final. His eyes scan your face as though he is trying to read between the lines of skin and breath and silence.

“I’m serious, doll,” he murmurs, a little firmer now. “You tell me if something feels off. Anything. If you’re sore, or-” he pauses, swallows a cough, “or if it hurt. Even just a little.”

Your hand finds the curve of his jaw, thumb brushing over the edge of his cheekbone, damp with sweat and tenderness. “I’m okay,” you reassure him sweetly. “I promise, baby. I feel good.”

His brows twitch. He wants to believe you.

“I mean it,” you add, lips brushing against his. “I feel more than good. I feel amazing.”

That finally does something to him. His shoulders drop. His hands tremble a little less. But even still, his gaze keeps drifting downward - to where your bodies meet, joined in the slowest, softest way you ever have. Searching for signs of pain that your mouth hasn’t admitted yet.

And then, quietly, with a softness you’re still surprised at - he slides out of you and down the bed. Down your body.

You blink. “Buck?”

“I just wanna check,” he says, already reaching for a soft towel. “Not tryna be weird, just-” his throat bobs. “Just need to know you didn’t start bleeding again.”

You open your mouth, not able to say anything.

Taking hold of your hand, he kisses the back of it before continuing. Every movement is careful, tender, hands working as though he’s handling silk. He wipes you down with warm water, his brow furrowed with a worry so profound it makes your chest ache. He doesn’t rush, not once. His eyes move up to yours every few seconds, silently asking for consent all over again.

“Still okay?” he inquires quietly as he folds the towel, already looking like he wants to run a warm bath and wrap you in a blanket of cloud and honey and safety.

“Still okay,” you nod, voice thick with emotion.

“Good.” He exhales for the first time in what feels like minutes. “Good. You tell me the second that changes. I mean it. I’ll pull the moon out of the damn sky if it hurts you again.”

You smile watery. He kisses your thigh.

And then he lifts you, scoops you into his arms with a care that feels so incredibly intimate. Carrying you to the bathroom, he is holding you so close that your heart forgets what it’s like to feel anything but safe.

With a kiss to your shoulder and your forehead, he sets you down on the edge of the tub.

He draws the bath. He adds your favorite bubbles. Lavender and eucalyptus steam curling through the air, filled with comfort.

He tests the temperature and while it fills, he kneels between your legs, rests his cheek on your thigh, and places more kisses into the bend of your knee, your hip, your ribs.

“D’you feel it?” he asks then, quietly. Almost nervous. Voice low and hoarse.

You run your fingers through his hair. He melts under your touch.

You think you know what he’s talking about.

Because all those times you slept with each other before, it was fast, frantic, bodies tangled and pressed into stolen hours, trying to pretend it didn’t matter.

It never felt like being held in a way that spoke louder than words. Never felt like being chosen in the silence after the fact. Never felt like someone saying I love you without needing to say it.

But tonight, it did.

“Yeah,” you answer, just as silent. “It never felt like that before.”

He lifts his head. Eyes soft. “That a good thing?”

“A very good thing,” you answer, almost teasingly, grinning.

And Bucky’s smile comes wide and real. His hands move up and down your shins. He leans in. Kisses your knee. Eyes on yours.

And when he guides you into the water, hands warm at your waist, his eyes track you constantly, scanning your face, your body. Watching. Worry never leaving, but love, too - love stretched wide across every inch of his face.

He joins you once you’re settled, pulling you into his lap, your back to his chest, water lapping around your waists. His arms wind around you, tightening comfortably, his heartbeat thudding against your back.

He kisses your shoulder. Rests his head in the crook of your neck.

The bath water cradles you as though it knows how hard your body worked tonight, how loved it was, how careful the man at your side has been, every moment before and after.

Your knees are tucked to your chest, curled in his lap, spine pressed to his sternum. His arms are heavy around your waist, long fingers spread wide and warm beneath the surface of the water. One palm pressed flat over your stomach, the other stroking a gentle line up and down your thigh, so painstaking, as though he never wants to stop touching you. He holds you as though you are his heart made tangible.

You breathe together. Quiet. Slow.

The ache between your legs is not painful. It’s soft. A memory of something beautiful.

You feel Bucky’s heartbeat thump against your spine. He kisses your neck. Again and again.

Then - so quiet, so gentle, almost afraid - he asks again. “Are you still okay?”

And it shouldn’t be much. It’s just a check-in. One of a hundred he’s made tonight. The softness in his voice, the worry gathered beneath his breath - it should feel comforting.

But instead, your chest caves in.

Your throat locks up.

You blink once, twice, and suddenly you can’t see. Everything blurs.

Because he means it. He really, truly means it.

Because he loves you. So goddamn much. And he’s holding you as if you matter more than air and he touches you as if you are a living poem and you can still feel him inside you, loving you - and your heart can’t hold all of it. It’s too much. It spills over.

Because he’s been so careful. His hands were so tender and his mouth so full of praise and his eyes tracked you the way the earth tracks the sun. Because even now, when it’s over, when the candle he lit up before getting into the tub flickers low, and the air smells of eucalyptus and his thighs are soaked through with warm water, he still won’t stop caring.

And it hits you. All of it. Everything. The past weeks. The pain. The panic when you tried to scrub away the evidence alone in the very same bathroom you’re in right now and bolt out of his apartment. The way he broke through the door just to get to you, how he wiped you off with hands that trembled but never once let you go.

The guilt he carried. The way he flinched for days when you touched him back. The softness he offered even when he had none for himself.

And now this.

This perfect, intimate thing you just shared. This feeling of being held in a way no one ever held you before. It’s all too much. The bath, his arms, the way he holds your ribcage as though he’s matching your breath. The most amazing sex you’ve ever had. The way he whispered into your shoulder as he moved inside you with so much care.

You want to answer him. Want to tell him you’re okay. But nothing comes out.

You can only inhale sharply, the sound catching in your throat.

And Bucky stills. Goes completely stiff.

You don’t speak. You can’t. Your overflowing heart won’t let you.

Bucky shifts behind you. “Baby?” His voice is quiet. But not calm. Never calm, when it comes to your silence.

And you stay silent. Turning your head away.

His arms tighten and you feel him trying to look around at your face. “Hey, hey. Honey. What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Are you- did I- did something hurt again? Are you hurting? Something feel wrong?”

You shake your head, but his voice is shaking harder.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he croaks in a whisper, his fingers coming to cup your jaw, about to tilt your head, but you don’t want him to see the tears forming, don’t want him to panic. He is frantic, not sure what he’s afraid of more - your pain or your silence. “C’mon, baby, please talk to me. I- did I do something? Did I hurt you and you didn’t wanna say? Are you bleedin’?”

You can feel him check the water for any signs of red and you hate yourself for not getting your voice out of your throat. But the only thing coming up is a choked breath.

“Talk to me.” He talks fast, swallowing words, swallowing breaths. “Please, baby. You have to tell me. You’re scaring me.”

He can’t see you like this. Not with your face turned away, not with your chest shaking in silence. So he moves, carefully but with uncoordinated and frantic hands, guiding you to turn in his arms until you’re straddling him in the water, your body trembling with the force of emotion you hadn’t braced yourself for.

You try to speak, but all that comes out is a wet hiccup of a breath and a soft, unsteady sob - not from pain, not from fear, just from everything. Your chest stings with it. Tears fall. Two, three, falling down your cheeks.

And Bucky panics. “No, baby, no, please don’t cry. Fuck, I don’t-”

He’s sitting up straighter now, water sloshing around you both, almost lapping over the tub. His face crumbles. His hands scramble, checking your sides, your arms, trying to study every inch of you, to figure out what’s wrong here, where it hurts, what he missed.

“Shit, shit, I knew it! Baby I knew we should’ve waited. I shouldn’t have- fuck- I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry- please talk to me-”

“No,” you finally manage, voice cracking, catching his hands and trying to squeeze the quiver out of them. “No, no, Bucky- I’m okay, I’m okay.”

But his eyes are wide, a glossy sheen already there and you would like to kick yourself. The guilt is already spinning in those pretty blue depths, the fear and dread all bubbling and building and ready to crescendo into another panic attack.

You press your forehead to his. You breathe in, slow. You breathe out. Your hands move to cup his cheeks. “It’s not that,” you breathe, and your voice is wet and cracked and soaked in love. “It’s not- Baby, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

His breath is uneven, hectic. He doesn’t blink.

You kiss his lips. A soft, barely-there brush. “I’m just overwhelmed.”

His brow furrows. His hands pull you closer to his chest, but his eyes stay locked on yours.

“I’m okay,” you whisper. “I’m not in pain. I promise. It’s just-” You break off with another hiccup of a laugh-sob. “You’re being so wonderful. And it’s been so much. In the best way.”

Bucky stills. Eyes blinking fast, jaw tight with the restraint of a man trying not to fall apart.

You pull back to look at him clearly. “I just-” you try to laugh, but it’s mostly just a breath shivering on the edge of something enormous. “I love you. So much. And it just- hit me. How much. I’ve never felt like this before. And it was just a lot, all at once.”

Bucky stares at you as though you split the earth open beneath him.

And then his hands are everywhere. On your cheeks. On your back. In your hair. Holding your face, trying to keep you in this moment with him. As though this is the most important moment in his life.

“God.” He chokes on a breath, and his lips land on your forehead, your nose, your eyelids, kissing your tears away. “You- you’re crying because you love me?”

You nod against him, laugh through your tears.

He exhales and his whole body sags with it.

“Shit,” he breathes, voice wavering. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

He presses you even tighter into his chest, cradling the back of your head. “Fuck, you scared me. I thought I hurt you again. I thought- thought I messed it all up again.”

“You didn’t,” you whisper, shaking your head. “You didn’t. Not even close.”

He is breathing harder than before, but the panic is softening now, bleeding out into the warmth of your body against his.

“I just love you so much,” you repeat, voice just a small breath. “And I didn’t expect it to feel like this. This… intense.”

He nods against you. Kisses your temple. Then your cheek. Then your wet lashes. “Yeah,” he exhales and there is a sheen to his voice, as though it passed through his own unspilled tears on the way out. “I know what you mean.”

You bury yourself against him, cheek to his chest, and his arms curl tight around your back. He rocks you just slightly, water lapping quietly against the porcelain, even now wanting to soothe you, hold you through it, make sense of all the things your tears said before your voice could.

His touch never stops. Always checking. Always there. One hand rubbing soft circles into your hip. The other brushing your damp hair back behind your ear.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you apologize eventually, brushing your nose against his cheek.

His laugh is soft and shattered, something frail, but there’s relief in it. Adoration. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You tilt your face up. Find his lips. It’s not a kiss that needs anything. It’s not even a kiss that asks. It’s just gentle. Soothing. Comforting. Sweet. Home.

“I’m more than okay,” you whisper softly.

And his eyes are shining.

He presses a kiss into your hair, then another. Then three more in a row because he can’t help himself. And he tells you he loves you, because he can’t help himself.

And he doesn’t let go. Not for a long time.

He won’t let you move. Not until the water cools. Not until the stars settle outside the bathroom window.

He won’t let you reach for a cloth or dry yourself off or even think about standing without him.

He refuses to let you go through one more thing alone.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable.”

- C. S. Lewis

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b0kevi · 3 months ago

Note

Okay so I loveddddd your writing of the let’s make out headcanons!!! Can you do a version where the character says it to the reader? Your writing is so good and you write the characters reallly well!!

the house wardens + jamil saying “let’s make out” every time YOU do something hot

summary: every time you do something attractive the housewardens can’t help but say ‘let’s make out’

trope: established relationship, suggestive themes, hurt/comfort, reassurance

info: name calling, cursing, self doubt, they/them pronouns, gender neutral reader, not proofread

characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, jamil, vil, idia, malleus

w/c: riddle: 373, leona: 398, azul: 346, kalim: 338 jamil: 366, vil: 424 idia: 424, malleus: 388

a/n: tysm! I always get worried i’ll mischaracterize someone but I really appreciate that <3 also sorry this took so long! I started a new job

Riddle

doesn’t know how to ask, will make up an excuse

gets shy and full on blushes

“we should make out.”

“w-what?” you accidentally painted the leaves instead of the rose.

“rule 879 states to make out with your partner when the sun is facing east after the first set of painted roses.”

you blinked. you were still working on the first bush of roses, you only painted three while there was still a lot more to go.

“we haven’t finished yet.”

riddles ears slowly turn pink. “it’s practically done.”

you could tell it was a lie but he looked so cute trying to justify his reasons.

“y’know you don’t have to make up stuff for us to make out, you could just ask.”

his whole face starts to turn a different color, “I did not make that up! it is the queens rules and I must follow them!”

riddle would never admit he was in fact making it up because you looked absolutely stunning, he loved spending alone time with you. the two of you were painting the roses, riddle was going to reward you with dessert but he couldn’t wait. you just being there, painting was making him flush and wanted to kiss you badly.

you laughed then grabbed him by his bow tie, pulling him closer to your face.

“well then, who am I to question the house warden? go on, you’re not going to break a rule aren’t you riddle?” you smirked as you fiddle with the ends of his bow tie.

riddle moved forward before he could process anything. his body moved faster than his brain so he lunged back, flustered.

“w-wait! ahem. it’s also the queens rule to do it in private… someone could see…”

“hmm what if it was the rule to do it in public? would you do it?”

“absolutely not! I don’t want to hear it from ace or trey… please let’s just go inside before I change my mind…” riddle was already rushing inside hand in hand with you, using his other hand to hide his red face.

“you’re the one that said it was a rule, you’re going to break that rule now mr. roseheart?”

he sighs, you’ll be the death of him.

Leona

nonchalant king

it’s not a suggestion, you ARE making out right then and there

there’s nothing more attractive to leona than you claiming him as your own.

he’s always been second to everyone and everything. but seeing you like this?

“we’re going to make out.” it’s not a question, he’s demanding it.

leona was waiting in the botanical garden for you, enjoying the quiet when he started hearing students near by. he tried to ignore it but he suddenly heard your voice, he wasn’t super interested in the conversation until he heard his name.

“you’re really dating leona? I bet he buys you whatever you want right?”

“what a gold digger. you’re only dating him for his money. plus he’s a prince, you hit the jackpot.”

“too bad he’s the second prince, not much going on. you should have tried for malleus.”

leona was getting pissed, he was going to march his way over there until he heard your booming voice.

“you’re lucky I don’t slap the shit out of you two. it’s none of your business, but for the record I am not dating him for his money. I couldn’t care less and he’s still a prince who has more class than you.”

your face darkened as you stalked close to them

“I’m dating leona for him, he’s the most sweetest and thoughtful person I know, and he knows how to treat people right instead of taking out his jealousy on other people.”

you were defending him, leona knew you could defend yourself but you were also defending him.

leona could have easily stepped in before the whole situation started but seeing how things played out, he’s glad he didn’t.

“is there a problem here?” leona was towering over the two as they were about to continue. shutting them up they shook their heads and left with a scoff.

“babe I’m sor-“

“we’re making out. now.” leona tugged you behind a tree, leaning down to attach his lips to yours, leaving you no room to deny, caging you in his arms.

leona is acting like a starved man by the way hes devouring your lips, leaving you no time to think.

“that was kind of hot herbivore.” it was extremely hot to him but he’s just going to show you how attractive he found you defending him was. just wait until you get back to his room.

Azul

full of bull

also will make an excuse, says it’s his payment for doing smth for you

“y/n dear, could you meet me in my office to discuss something.”

what did you do now… you don’t remember doing anything wrong.

you were helping out in the lounge since it was busier than usual.

once azul closed the door shut,

“I propose a deal. we make out right now and later.. and I’ll give you the day off tomorrow with some of our newest drinks that i know you love.”

honestly, azul has been stressed all day and is just throwing out random ideas to have an excuse to make out with you.

he’s not going to just straight up ask, this is a give and take world.

“uhm, but it’s still pretty busy out there—“

“I assure you they’re capable of running things for a few minutes. or hour..”

you were his escape and he needed it badly, it was a madhouse out there. he usually could handle it but it also didn’t help how attractive you looked while taking peoples orders, persuading them into buying more than what they came for.

“please my pearl, remember that time I babysat grim? you still owe me for that.”

that one time that happened two months ago that you’ll never let happen again.

you remember azul used that the last time he wanted to make out with you, but you weren’t going to rain down on his parade just yet.

you knew azul was just going to keep persuading you until you agreed. he would never outright say he wants to kiss you no, he has a reputation to uphold.

you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck and smashing your lips against his.

he let out a squeal from shock, he didn’t expect that.

his face flush from that embarrassing noise he made but held you close, deepening the kiss as he felt his stress melt away. he’s not planning on letting you go anytime soon, the outside world can wait and deal with themselves.

Kalim

he just loves kissing you, you don’t have to be doing anything and he’ll still say it

will get pouty and pepper you with kisses until you agree

“let’s make out!”

"kalim... we're supposed to be studying right now."

"we have! don't I get a reward for studying? sometimes once I finish jamil gives me a treat!" kalim has been staring at you for the past 20 minutes.

you promised jamil to study with kalim and make sure he gets his work done but its not going so well.

"okay but you only answered two questions then started staring at me."

"you look so pretty! your serious face is so cute, how am I supposed to focus when you look like that! I want to make out with you!” he doesn’t give you time to say anything, kalim is already pouting and putting his best puppy dog eyes while peppering small kisses across your face.

“pleaassseee, just a small break then i’ll do my work! i promise!! pleaseee let me kiss youuu” he whines as he wraps his arms around your neck, practically on top of you while leaving sad kisses on your cheek.

“I need my daily y/n kisses or I can’t make it throughout the day! i’ve been deprived for so long…”

“I gave you a morning kiss, a kiss when I saw you, a kiss when you asked for one, a kiss when I left…”

kalim furrowed his eyebrows, “that doesn’t count! I need my daily make out kisses, completely different!”

you laughed at his kicked puppy look.

how could you say no to that face?

sighing you state, “alright. just for a minute then if you get an answer right i’ll give you a reward.”

“kisses reward?”

you nodded, “kisses reward.”

he giggling as he won, he slams his lips towards yours. playing with your hair as he deepens the kiss, he smiles every time you make little noises. kalim absolutely loves to kiss you silly and will do it every chance he gets.

Jamil

he just needs a break

usually says it at his breaking point so it’s really rough and quick sometimes

“let’s make out.”

it caught you so off guard. Jamil had pulled you into a storage room, you were carrying some paperwork you had to turn in but they soon were scattered from how quickly jamil pulled you in.

“w-what? babe I-“

“please, it will be quick I just…” his hand cupping your face as his lips brushed against yours, muttering against them

“I need this.” he murmured breathily before pressing his lips firmly while running his fingers through your hair.

“you looked so hot earlier,” he pushed you against the wall, gently squeezing your hip while traveling down kisses to your jawline

you didn't know how to react. it was rare when jamil showed pda especially this passionate in public. well you two were stuck in a closet but still anyone could walk in at any moment.

“you putting kalim and the others in their place.. you were so assertive.” his lips never leaving an inch away from you, “very hot of you.” he smirked as he looked up at you through his eyelashes.

he loves seeing how flustered you get because of him. he may not show much interest in public but that’s just because he’s a private person and loves teasing you when you two are alone.

he loves your little reactions.

“I-I just wanted them to give you a break”

“I appreciate you so much.” jamil sighs between your lips, rubbing circles on your hip while deepening the kiss.

jamil knew he should get back to his things but you were so addicting. how could he leave you right now?

he groans as he pulled away to look at you, smirking at your blown out expression

“let me show you how much I appreciate you, later tonight.” he winked before getting one last kiss then picking up your papers, leaving the room to turn in your work as if nothing happened.

jamil was completely unfazed unless you looked real close but you were red the rest of the day, clearly not thinking straight.

you will never get used to this side of jamil.

Vil

hear me out, he's secretly a freak

stress reliever

“are you sure it looks good?”

“my dear.. we’re not going out. we’re making out. right now.”

“w-huh?? but my outfit… is it not, or my makeup?”

the two of you were getting ready for date night, you had bought a new outfit for this occasion that you really liked but now you weren’t so sure if it looked good now.

vil on the other hand couldn’t look away. you looked absolutely radiant and you’re over here having second thoughts? please, he obviously needs to show you how good you look.

“my love you look stunning, there’s no need to worry.” vil was kissing you all over, you had some lipstick stains but he wasn’t going to tell you about that yet.

“baby.. we’re going to be late to our reservation..”

“we can reschedule or go somewhere else.”

vil couldn’t care less, he needed to make out with you now and show you how much he loves you.

“v-vil you’re going to mess up our makeup…”

he leans down, leaving more stains scattered across your neck and collarbone as he smirks against your warm skin.

“good. you look even more divine like this.”

he guides you to his bed not once breaking the kiss as he sets you down

“you’re perfect love, this outfit compliments you so well and your makeup looks even better now~” he smirks, caressing your face looking at you longingly

you turn to look at yourself through the mirror to see all the lipstick stains he left. you blush over how much of a mess you look.

“v-vil! I can’t go out like this! it’s going to take another 40 minutes to take this off and redo it.”

“why not? I think you look breathtaking, why not show everyone your beauty?” he mused, still trailing kisses over you.

“vil your makeup is messed up too” you state as you try to fix the smudges around his lips but he keeps diving back down into you.

“does it look like I care right now darling? right now I need to show you how much you mean to me. we can go out another day, I have all I need right here.”

vil cages you down before roughly yet gracefully devouring your lips.

he’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel comfortable in your own body just as you make him comfortable enough to look like an absolute mess in front of you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Idia

he would mumble it, thinking you didn't hear it

he didn’t mean it! (he totally meant it he just doesn’t know how to ask)

"we should totally make out..."

"okay."

"wh-HUHH?? y-you heard that?? I-I didn't mean it!”

you were helping out idia with some equipment he needed to fix. you picked up a couple things from watching him tinker plus this was a great opportunity to spend time with him.

idia wasn’t in the best mindset today so he kept messing up and getting frustrated when it still wasn’t working right so you wanted to give it a try to help him out. you fixed it just like that in seconds.

he watched you in shock. not only did you fix in on the first try but the face you make when you’re focused was just too much for him.

a strand of hair fell in front of your face, he wanted so badly to tuck it behind your ear but that would be totally cringe otome vibes.

“idy you can ask if you want to, I won’t judge.”

the tips of his hair are pastel pink as he fidgets with his sleeves.

“w-what the… can I exist and restart.. there’s gotta be an autosave before this…” he murmurs mostly to himself under his breath

even when he really wants to kiss you, he still gets in his head so even when he wants to, you have to initiate it.

you hold onto his hands and kiss his cheek. “no need to restart. this route is perfect.”

he gasps while looking at you with full blown out eyes, staring at you like you just deleted his saved file.

“you’re an ultra rare SSR…”

you laugh as you place your lips to his. you couldn’t get enough of this dork.

idia fiddles with the ends of your shirt as he ease into the kiss. you’re too good to him, he doesn’t know how or why you picked him but he’s beyond grateful.

and just like that something flipped inside him, he curled his hand around your neck before taking the lead. he still has self doubt so he’ll slip up but when you encourage him he grows confident.

leaving you two breathless with his hair full pink with blue accents. he smiles at you before kissing your temple then diving back into your lips, holding your hand with his free one to ground himself, letting him know this is okay and he’s doing good.

“I must have crazy gacha luck to have pulled you..”

Malleus

you breathe and he’ll say he wants to make out

100% whip, simp, yearning man

“child of man. I believe we should make out.”

“hmm?”

the two of you were taking a nightly stroll that you usually do mostly every night when you can.

it was a peaceful night, you would share things that happened during the day or whatever popped in your mind as you held hands.

the conversation soon died down into a comfortable silence as you took in sight of the night sky.

malleus was too busy staring at you to appreciate the night. the way the moonlight hit your face just right making you eternal which made his face feel warm.

he wanted nothing more than to take your breath away if you’ll let him.

“I would very much like to kiss you. I want us to have a make out session and leave you breathless to show you how you make me feel every time I lay eyes on you.”

your face heated up with every word malleus spoke.

you stopped walking to process his request. malleus is a gentleman so will only make a move if you’ll let him, if you don’t want to he’ll understand. he will get pouty but wants nothing more than for you to be comfortable.

he waits patiently but has that longing look in his eyes with a hint of desire.

“o-okay.” you nod, still flush as malleus steps closer, one hand caressing your face as if you’re a piece of glasswork then dipping down to capture your lips.

he pulls back to see your face then dives back in. each time becomes longer than the previous kiss. he sure was making you breathless.

you finally had to pull back to get some air but malleus goes down to nuzzle your neck, occasionally leaving kisses.

“you are absolutely ravishing child of man. what you’re feeling is how I feel every time you’re near, and I adore it. I would want nothing more than to leave you sweet kisses and show the world my treasure.”

you don’t know what makes you more breathless, malleus’s words or his kisses.

“you sweet talker, get over here.” you needed to shut him up before you exploded. you pulled him down and smashed your lips to his.

malleus was in paradise.

﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒

a/n: that scenario has been on my mind for leona but the others idk what to do T-T sorry if this is short! have a great day/night !

edit: realized I put ‘queen’ in malleus part so sorry I try to keep things gn

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