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munchhmm · 2 days ago

Note

Hehee hiii!! Can I get luffy x fem reader fluff to smut😛 (I might be the same person..)

So basically the reader is being really cuddly for the whole day and teasing him so at night he gives her the same treatment but more intimate!!

Please and thank yewwww💕

Messy Love

luv your energy babes (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝) i give you drum roll sexy goofy boy!

Pairings: Luffy x F!reader

Warnings: NSFW, insertion, slight(?) choking.

Word count: About 2.1k ꪆৎ

Poke… Poke… Poke…

“Y/n, I can’t eat if you keep doing that!” Luffy shouts playfully as you continue to push your finger into the soft skin of your boyfriend’s cheek. A giggle escapes as you turn your focus back to the plate sitting on the table meant for you, taking small bites while glancing at Luffy, plotting your next move.

Later on the deck, your captain sits perched on the railing, fishing rod in hand with a big grin across his face. Slowly, you creep behind him, careful not to make any noise—Luffy was very attuned to his surroundings, so this part took extra effort. Before he could even turn around, you had snatched his hat, running off laughing with pride at a successful heist. Luffy chases after you with his own laugh trailing behind, stretching and wrapping his rubber arms around your waist to pull you back to him.

“You’re being silly, is it a special day or something?!” he asks excitedly, taking his hat out of your hands and placing it on your head.

“I just want to give you some attention~” Your words slip past his ear like silk, making the weird feeling in his chest come back—just like it does every time you lean into him this way.

Luffy plops down against a nearby wall, keeping you in his lap as he wraps his arms around you more intimately now, keeping one hand on your lower back and the other holding your head against his chest.

“Like this?”

The feeling of his voice rumbling in his chest makes you feel at home, making you bury your face further into him.

“Exactly like this.”

Even though the relentless sun poured waves of heat down below, neither of you cared about the possibility of uncomfortable sweat sticking you together—hell, Luffy probably invited the idea. A few hours passed like this: small circles being drawn on your back, conversations about favorite foods, and, of course, your captain challenging you to a staring contest (which you lost three times).

Sanji calls everyone for dinner right before the sun is about to set. You and Luffy are the last ones to join, much to everyone’s surprise, knowing how much Luffy loves food. Instead of attempting to tease him like you did at breakfast, you lean over lovingly with a fork full of some type of chicken and rice, offering to feed a bite to Luffy. He gladly accepts, giving you the most adorable face in approval. The crew groans at the sight of the lovey-dovey couple, continuing to eat like they weren’t about to barf.

You didn’t care. Your boyfriend gave so much, and the least you could do was give back—even if it was a bit mushy.

After dinner, you stayed back with a few others to help clean and put away dishes. With the help, it wouldn’t take long, but Luffy was growing impatient. All day he had been thinking about some way he could show his love back in a way you weren’t used to experiencing—finally coming back to the thought of your words from earlier, the way they immediately went straight to his dick and made wearing shorts uncomfortable.

You had both had sex together, just not as often as other couples. Sanji had explained the importance of keeping your partner happy in more ways than one. Luffy took the advice to heart, making sure he memorized every part of you—the way your lips part when he kisses your neck, the way you grip his hair when he flattens his tongue against your clit, even the way you arch your back and how it perfectly fits against him.

Tonight would be no different. He was going to make you feel just as loved as you made him feel today.

Once you were the last one in the kitchen, finishing the last few glasses from dinner, Luffy walks in, coming to give you the biggest hug from behind. Slightly startled, you jump—accidentally pressing your ass to his crotch, earning a genuine grunt from your boyfriend. His hands find your hips and grip them tightly, pressing you even closer to him. You can feel his length through his shorts, the thin material leaving nothing to the imagination.

“I like it when you touch me…”

His voice is deep, sending a shiver through your body. You turn to face him, letting a hand trail down his stomach but stopping right before the hem of his shorts.

“When I touch you how? Hmm?”

The feeling flows back into Luffy’s chest, overwhelming the restriction he’s set for himself. Instead of responding, Luffy crashes his lips into yours, messy and rough with emotion. Only you could make him feel this way. He wanted nothing more than to love every inch of you, show you how much you mean to him.

His kisses trail to your jaw, then your neck, pulling back only for a moment to hoist you onto the kitchen counter, careful not to hit your head on the cabinets behind. Fingers tangle in his hair as you giggle, gasping every so often at the soft nibbles Luffy leaves on your skin.

“We can’t do this here, what if someone sees?”

You wanted to sound serious and composed, but instead it came out shaky and needy, highlighting your arousal.

“Let ‘em, don’t care…”

He says between open-mouthed kisses that are now trailing to your chest. He has half a mind to just rip your shirt but opts to just lift it over your head quickly, exposing your bra-less chest.

“So pretty.”

His eyes are wide with admiration, simply in awe at your body. A slight blush grazes your face—Luffy was a very straightforward person. He says what he means and nothing more, meaning he truly thought the highest of you.

The open red shirt that usually hangs off your boyfriend’s body drops to the floor along with your shirt. Eagerly, Luffy attaches his lips to your right nipple, toying with your left in his hand, licking his fingers before rolling the sensitive bud. A loud moan escapes your lips, quickly covered with a hand to hide the sound from the rest of the crew.

Luffy laughs playfully at your reaction, moving your hand and pinning it above your head against the cabinet.

“You’re too serious, just have fun!”

His voice is cheerful but still laced with something darker, something dirty.

You relax a bit into his words, letting him fondle you just the way you like. He knew you better than any other guy had been able to prove—showing it through his worship of your body. His eyes flicker to yours for a moment as he reaches your lower stomach, clenching the fabric of your shorts between his teeth. You nod, letting him know to continue.

Swiftly, your shorts are slid down, Luffy’s lips dragging across the skin of your legs on the way. The cool air feels foreign against your now exposed core, causing goosebumps to litter your arms. Luffy kneels in front of you, taking in the sight of your pussy leaking onto the counter.

“Look at how wet you are!”

A finger swipes up your slit, gathering the juices easily. You gasp at the sudden contact, looking down at your boyfriend with crimson-tinted cheeks. He pulls his finger away to hold it up in front of you, showing how your slick drips down his knuckles onto his wrist. You lean forward slightly to take his finger into your mouth, sucking every last drop of yourself off of him.

The sight makes his tip push a small stream of precum over his shaft, soaking into his shorts. Frustrated at the tightness, Luffy rips his last piece of clothing off, cock springing to slap him in the abdomen. A breath hitches in your throat—you could see him a million times but still be surprised at how big he is.

Before you can reach for him, he’s kneeling again, quickly working his mouth against your soaking core. His tongue is fast but calculated—flicking, sucking, lapping your juices until the room starts spinning. When you grip his hair and moan his name, the grunts he lets out against your heat make your knees shake.

The small gasps turn desperate as you near your orgasm, telling Luffy to pull away. His mouth and chin are covered in you. He kisses your lips passionately, full of love and wanting—you can taste yourself on him, and he makes sure of it by pressing his tongue against yours. You whimper while bucking your hips against his, missing the contact his mouth once had on your pussy.

Luffy removes his lips from yours, watching how you pout while looking up at him with those beautiful eyes. He can’t deny you anything when you look like that.

“I’m gonna make you feel good.”

He leans low to your ear, voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. You could almost cum just from hearing his words. He had you wrapped around his finger, and soon you’ll be wrapping around his cock.

Without warning, Luffy slams into you, causing a loud squeal to echo through the kitchen. He sets the pace quickly, relentlessly shoving his tip against your cervix. The small amount of pain is covered by the immense pleasure shooting through your body. His hands are everywhere—thighs, ass, tits, even wrapping around your neck slightly just to see your reaction.

Your moans and cries fill Luffy’s head, fueling him better than any meal ever could. His left hand settles between your legs, rubbing small circles on your clit as you beg him to go faster—words never falling on deaf ears.

The fear of someone catching the two of you vanished the moment you started clenching around him, the feeling causing both of you to see stars. Lips find your chest again, leaving hickeys on the underside curve of your breast, licking and sucking your nipples.

The pleasure is overwhelming—your vision became blurry moments ago and isn’t showing any signs of letting up soon. The knot in your lower stomach only grows stronger and tighter.

“So pretty… So tight…”

Luffy struggles slightly to get his words out, his own orgasm around the corner as well. He feels a pair of legs wrap around his waist, looking down at you with sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Don’t pull out, please, Captain~”

The way your mouth drops open from his thrusts, the flushed look of your body, the way your tits bounce in his face while he fucks you—now you’re calling him Captain in that sweet little needy voice?

His thrusts become sloppy and snap quicker, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Gonna… Cum soon. Get ready.”

Luffy grabs your hips, pulling you closer to him. The noises he makes against your skin send you over the edge, gasping and sucking in his cock with the way you pulse around him. His orgasm follows soon after, spilling himself inside your plush walls.

He doesn’t pull out right away. Instead, he kisses your neck sweetly, catching his breath while taking in the scent of your clammy skin. Fingers trail down his back softly, trying to ground themselves against him, your breathing matching his for the time being.

After a few moments like this, Luffy slowly pulls himself out of you, causing a sigh to leave your mouth and a small smirk to spread across his face as he watches his seed flow out of your hole, dripping down the sides of the counter.

“Guess I made you messy, huh?”

His usual grin flashes while grabbing a clean rag off a shelf to clean you with.

“Yeah, but I don’t mind this mess,” you say with a small laugh, watching Luffy take care of you in the softest way he knows how.

Grabbing your clothes to quickly throw them back on, you ask,

“So, why the sudden change in plans for tonight?”

Your boyfriend, after getting dressed himself, embraces you in the biggest, softest hug.

“Because I wanted to make you happy!”

No hint of hidden motives, just pure love and affection. Luffy truly wanted you to feel special—nothing more, nothing less.

The rest of the night is filled with snacks and cuddling in your shared bedroom.

“I love you.”

Three simple words that felt like pure bliss, rarely said by your boyfriend—not because he didn’t want to, he was just better with actions than words.

“I love you too, rubber boy,” you say with an affectionate smile, before eventually falling asleep on Luffy’s chest—the most comforting place in the world.

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sloaneispunk · 2 days ago

Text

“𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫”

vampire!remmick x you

night after night, remmick waited at your doorstep, begging you to let him in. despite all the souls he already claimed, he was determined on getting the one of a sweet girl who lived in the meadows.

it was a warm, humid night. the moonlight beamed through the peakes of your curtains, shining onto the hard wooden boards. then, there was a knock on the door.

“y/n, honey. will you get the door?” your father called out from the kitchen.

you got up on your feet, nightgown hanging loosely on your body as your feet patted their way to the front door.

when you pulled the door open, you were met with the face of a middle-aged man. he was dressed nicely head to toe, his hair messy and ruffled but in a decent way.

“how ‘ya doing sugar? mommy and daddy home?” the stranger asked, his words thick with a southern accent.

you opened your mouth to say something but you were cut off. “i’m sorry, do we know you?” your mother stepped in, pushing you slightly behind her.

“no ma’am but i assure you, i come in peace.” the man replied, his lips quirking into a smile that sent shivers down your spine. it wasn’t a warm smile, nor was it a welcoming one.

“it’s late, we outta go to bed-”

“c’mon, i just wanna serenade you nice folks with a song!”

when neither you nor your mother replied, he sighed, shaking his head. “why excuse me young lady, if i known any better i’d say you look like you’d wanna hear some of my songs… why don’t ‘cha let me in, sugar?”

your eyes narrowed, this man was trouble.

“now, don’t talk to my daughter that way. please leave, mister.” your mother grew in annoyance.

the man lingered for a few moments, hesitating before he turned on his heel, walking back to his car.

your mother mumbled curses under her breath before walking back into the house, leaving you on your own to watch the man. you observed closely as he hopped into his chic car, he ran his hand through his hair and looked up back at you.

with one last glance, he sent you a wink before driving off, leaving you stunned.

who was he?

the next day

you were up late. later than usual.

you were sat on the front porch, swinging as the breeze blew the hammock. it was peaceful out, the only thing you could hear was the soft cries of vultures nearby.

then, there was a loud snap.

you whipped your head around, body jerking as you were met with a familiar face.

“hey there, sugar.”

it was the man from the day before, now looking unbelievably more charming than before with a wide grin on his face.

“wh-what are you doing here?” you were scared, quivering even.

“i was just around the corner, thought i’d drop by to see you.” he replied, moving evermore closer. “what’s your name, darlin’?”

you were lost for words.

“i mean i could keep callin’ ya sugar if that’s what you want but-”

“y/n.”

he stopped.

you swore at that moment you could see a twinkle in his eyes.

“well, it’s my pleasure, y/n. name’s remmick.” he extended his hand.

you hesitated before shaking it. his hand was cold, it was like he had no warmth in him-no soul.

you stayed silent, looking away from him.

remmick took his chance, grabbing a wooden chair nearby and dragging it a few feet in front of you before he got comfortable. he sat with his legs open wide, crouching down slightly with his forearms on his thighs.

your breath quickened. he noticed.

“you’re a mystery, y’know that?” he broke the silence.

“whatd’ya mean?” you pushed further.

“can’t read ya. everyone in this town is easy to read, they’re transparent… but i can’t seem to do so with you.” he replied, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, offering you one.

you picked a stick from the pack as remmick used his lighter to start it up for you.

sucking in the smoke, you tilted your head. “we just met, ya don’t gotta read me remmick.” you teased.

“lord forbid a guy’s intrigued by someone.” he chuckled.

you gave him a smile.

remmick leaned forward, gently taking the cigarette from your lips and bringing it to his, sucking in a breath.

you watched and quirked your eyebrows.

“i should get some sleep, it’s late.” you told him, dusting yourself off as you got up and headed to the front door.

“the night’s still young, sugar. why don’t you keep me company for awhile more, huh?” he chased after you.

however, when you stepped into the house, remmick halted at the doorframe. it was as if something was holding him back or preventing him from entering.

“maybe another time.” you tested the waters. “goodnight remmick.”

“sweet dreams, y/n.”

with the door shut behind you, you let out a shaky breath.

remmick was standing on the other side, hand wiping off the drool that ran down his chin. his eyes were blown out, he was hungry. unlike the other souls he had taken, he didn’t want yours ourt of greed or lust. he craved it, every second he was away from your doorstep he felt weak.

it didn’t make sense why a vampire like him would yearn for a young, sweet thing like you. he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

from then on, every single night, remmick would visit.

sometimes he just sat on the steps, waiting for you to come out. other nights, when he longed to hear your voice, he would creep up to your room’s window, gently knocking to catch your attention.

the first time he did, you were astounded.

“what in god’s name are you doing?! are you crazy?” you scolded him in a hushed tone so as to not wake your parent’s slumber.

“for you? yeah.” he would reply.

but no matter how hard he tried, you never let him in. you made sure to always keep him at arms length.

“c’mon, sweet girl. i’m gonna freeze out here.” he would beg.

“it’s hot out, i think you’ll live remmy.” you’d always brush it off.

the nickname started after two weeks or so. he was taken aback at first, then, he hungered for more. the way his name left your lips so angelic made him weak in the knees.

remmick was getting infatuated by the night.

when he retreated, you would flood his thoughts, his mind, his dreams.

his days were spent cooped up in his house all day. when dusk came, he would hunt for souls to feed on, to continue raising his army. but when night came, oh, he was thrilled.

he started to wonder if you knew exactly how you were threading the wheels, it was calculated and careful.

you were flirtatious, but weary enough to not utter the words he so desperately wanted, no, needed to hear.

‘come in’

one night, remmick found himself practically crawling to your front door. he was like a feral animal that searched for water.

he didn’t care anymore if he tore down your door with your parents still home, he needed you.

“i’m coming!” you yelled as you hurried to the door, yanking it open.

when you saw remmick all fucked up at your door, your eyes grew wide, dropping to your knees in front of him.

“please, darlin’, i can’t do this no more-i need you so bad. i-i’ll be anythin’ya want, i swear. please let me in, sugar.” he pleaded, his eyes wielded with tears.

you took a moment to absorb the image of him on your porch. his hair was messier than usual, his clothes were torn and covered in dirt and…blood?

the first few buttons of his collared shirt were torn open, leaving the glistening layer of sweat on his chisled chest shown in the moonlight.

“wh-what happened? remmy, are you hurt?” you asked, your hands searching all over his body trying to find the source of blood.

with your hands all over him, he tensed up immediately. he swore he could’ve came right then and there in his pants if you didn’t stop.

you felt his chest heave harder, him leaning into your touches like a small puppy craving affection.

“baby, i-i need ya, it hurts me so bad.” he was whining.

“i can’t do that.” you said in a low voice, hands dropping. remmick hated the loss of contact with your hands, he crawled closer to you, but still he stopped at the threshold of your home.

“why not, babydoll? i’ll do anything, hell i would do anything for you.”

“i know what you are…” you admitted.

“nonono, that doesn’t have to change anything. you’re killin’ me sugar.”

“remmick.” you warned, but he simply let out a groan at your tone of voice.

“please, i won’t let nothin’ happen to you. i just wanna claim you, make you mine, i ain’t gonna hurt’ya, darlin’.”

you paused.

“come in.”

“what?” he swore he was dreaming.

“if ya want it so bad, come in remmy.”

he didn’t waste a second.

just like that, remmick’s hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as he got up, his lips crashing into yours.

you let out a groan against him, but that only added fire to the fuel.

he kissed you like a man starved, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth with no mercy. he backed the two of you against the door frame, only centremeters from the porch but he couldn’t care less.

lost in the heat of the moment, your hands tangled in his locks as his circled every inch of your body until he could memorise it. he slotted his leg between your thighs, adding pressure to your core.

“fuck, remmy.”

shit. he was a goner.

a loud moan left his lips, “say my name again, sugar.”

“remmy, feels so good.”

he bit down on your neck, sucking and leaving a wet trail of saliva on your skin.

he moved your hips on his thighs, helping you as your legs grew weaker with every grind.

“oh darlin’, been wanting this since i laid my eyes on ya.” he admitted between sloppy kisses.

“really?”

“been dreamin’ of it- hope your mama ain’t home, wouldn’t want’er to see her sweet little girl makin’ a mess on my thigh.”

you clenched.

“she’s-ah, shit! they’re out for the next few days.” you breathed out, the feeling in your stomach becoming too overwhelming to even form a sentence.

remmick didn’t have to say anything else, the only thing he wanted to was to make you cum.

“you can do better than that.” he cooed, “or does my girl need help, huh?”

then, he clenched his thighs, shooting a wave of pleasure through you harder than anything you’ve ever felt.

“fuck! please, wanna cum.” you let out pornagraphic moan.

that was it for remmick, his eyes were blown out with lust as he started to rhythmically bounce you on his thigh, bringing you closer and closer to your release.

“aw, does my little girl like that? i know you’re close baby, just gotta ask real nice.”

“can i cum, please?”

he only hummed. what a tease.

your eyes shot open, staring right into his giving him your best puppy eyes as you begged. “remmy, please-oh i’m gonna cum. pleasepleaseplease.”

he moaned in satisfaction, “go ahead, baby. make a mess on me.”

and that was all it took for your orgasm to wash through you. with one last whimper of his name on your lips, you came, drenching his thighs.

he kissed you as you came down from your high, murmuring sweet things into your ear.

when you tried to pull away, he held you back.

“oh, baby… i’m not done yet.”

i finally watched sinners and i’m going insane

#remmick #remmick x you #remmick x reader #sinners #sinners2025 #remmick smut #jack o’connell #jack o’connell x you

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sadboyeddie · 2 days ago

Text

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠’𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐨𝐛

Summary: Bob has been acting different. You intend to find out why.

Warnings: (MDNI 18+) Fem!Reader, No Use Of Y/N, Blow Job, Sex Club, Smut, Dirty Talk

A/N: It’s been a hot minute since I have written smut so I hope it’s passable. Let me know tho.

WC: 5.8k

Something was off with Bob.

He was acting strange somehow.

More secretive

You've gotten used to his many moods and behaviours since living together at the Watchtower. In fact with how many of the members of the team were trained to basically not feel shame you knew far too much about some of them.

Walker on the other hand is just a dude who doesn't care. He's given up on shame.

But with Bob his day to day has become routine, a schedule he keeps to. He says it helps him manage the darker parts of his life, at first you thought he meant the Void; but he was also talking about his older habits.

Bob had been clean for a long while now and there has never been an indication of a relapse, and honestly you're a little mad and disappointed with yourself for even implying there might be.

It's just Bob doesn't sneak out; he always tells at least someone, usually Yelena, where he's going. He doesn't clam up and start spluttering half baked excuses when asked what he did the previous night. He never blows off movie night, usually the first there in the common room with his blanket, waiting for you to arrive with the popcorn.

But he has been. He has been sneaking out, has been clamming up, he has been skipping out on movie night.

You try to casually ask around but for a bunch of spies who usually have no boundaries they seem very nonplussed about your queries.

Yelena assures you it's fine and to just leave it alone, Ava hasn't even really noticed and John says he's probably got a secret girlfriend.

You trust Yelena, you know how close her and Bob are. It once drove you made with jealousy but after realising there was no romantic feelings between them the fogged cleared and you realised how good it was for Bob to have a best friend like Yelena.

Also you didn't want to be one of those people that got jealous every time a member of the opposite sex talked to someone you liked.

You do sometimes wish it was you though.

Anyway, since everyone was of so little help you decided to figure it out yourself. You were a pretty decent spy yourself.

Like Bob's normal routine of laundry on Sunday, grocery shopping on Wednesday and changing the bed linens on Saturday; his mysterious night time activity was also on a schedule.

Twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday; leaving the tower at 7:30pm on the dot.

You watch as he passes Yelena, offering her a small smile and a nod in greeting before getting on the elevator.

She doesn't even ask where he's going. She must know something.

You decide against cornering her and asking again, you know there's no point. Not even Hydra would be able to torture the information out of her. Where's Bucky when you need him?

Okay, that was a little rude. Thank god there's no telepaths in the building.

You wait until you hear the door to Yelena's room close before heading towards the elevator, you watch as the numbers gradually countdown until reaching the first floor. You smack the button and wait for it to come back up, contemplating taking the stairs but there's no way you'd make it to the bottom in time.

You should have planned for this.

Before deciding to just base jump from a window the doors ding and you step inside, as you go to close the door you hear Walker calling for you to hold it. Feigning deafness you hit the 'close' button a few extra times and thankfully they shut before he makes it.

That last thing you see before the doors shut is John's annoyed yet confused gaze.

You impatiently tap your foot against the cool metal of the floor, why is this taking so long? Has the elevator always been this slow? What if there was an emergency?

When the doors open with a ding you let out a huff and speed walk over to the buildings exit, nodding to the security guard behind the desk.

When you're on the street you frantically look around for the familiar flop of brown curls, the street is fairly empty this time of night but even with the street lights it's still dark.

"What way did Bob go?" you call back to the guard.

With a slightly startled jump, he puts down he word jumble and points to the left, you give him a quick thank you before making your way down the sidewalk.

Thankfully you don't have to break out into a jog because a few meters up the road is Bob.

You take a second to fall back a bit, getting too close in your eagerness to find him.

He has his airpods in and is bopping his head a bit to whatever song he is listening to.

Usually you'd find that cute and endearing but you're in work mode right now. No time for fun.

You're feeling immense guilt with each step you take. He's done nothing to truly make you doubt his trust and yet here you are stalking him. The man just brings this out in you. You swear before moving to the tower you used to have boundaries.

Bob is your friend, one of your closest. You spend the most time with him then anyone, hell, most nights he ends up in bed with you.

When it started he'd make up poor excuses; glare from the street lights (50 floors up?), cold in his room, (he usually slept with the A/C on cause he runs hot), Alexei snores, that one you believed.

But you could never find yourself to care because you quickly realised that you slept better next to Bob. Your nightmares weren't as frequent and you ran cold so you enjoyed having a personal heater in your bed. He's like a barnacle that attaches itself to you as soon as he hits the mattress and you find that his touch grounds you.

He's told you that it helps him too, you did notice that after the first few times the dark bags under his eyes started to recede, and maintenance wasn't having to come up and change as many light bulbs anymore, when Bob would wake from his nightmares he'd let out a pulse of energy that was like an EMP.

Much to your disappointment nothing sexual ever came of it, Bob being far too polite and shy. The closest you have ever gotten is feeling his hard on in the morning before he stutters out and apology and rushes from your room. You always felt a tad guilty wishing more did come from it, he saw you as a means of comfort and you wanted to climb him like a tree.

You often got the feeling he reciprocated your feelings, that was until you saw him interact with anyone else. All smiles and crimson cheeks, biting his lips and meaningful stares. Stupid Bob making everyone he interacts with feel special.

You thought you had made a new breakthrough with your relationship when it became more playful and sassy but you noticed once again he became like that with others when he had warmed up to them enough.

Still you had your own things that you did together, apart from sleeping in the same bed, you had tv shows that just the two of you would watch, you'd wear his clothes and he'd put his hair up in one of your scrunchies when it would get into his eyes when reading. Sometimes when he was out shopping he'd buy you some clothes, stuff he thought you'd like.

You were even wearing one of the shirts now; a grey shirt with a small butterfly decal on the chest.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Bob crosses the road, you wait for a car to pass before following, making sure to maintain a distance.

You end up following him for a good twenty minutes before he makes a sharp right turn down an alleyway, you're grateful he walked, you would have never been able to catch up to him if he took a taxi or uber.

But you know Bob likes to walk, he says it helps regulate his moods. Every morning he goes for a walk around the local park, sometimes you join but he does like to go alone, listening to music and getting his steps in is almost as beneficial as therapy according to him.

You peak out from behind the brick wall of the apartment building and watch as Bob takes a quick glance around before knocking a pattern onto a metal door.

Your heart sinks into your ass as you watch him enter the sketchy building, your fears being all but confirmed.

You spend what feels like an eternity fighting with yourself, deciding whether or not to go home or go drag his ass out of whatever crack den he's found himself in.

You know you don't technically have a right to do that, you're not his girlfriend or parole officer, but you promised him the last time he almost Voided out that no matter what you'll be there to pull him from the fire, no matter what.

You know that the only thing that's holding you back is the obvious rage Bob will feel towards you when he realises you violated his trust but it's something you're willing to deal with.

You march with purpose to the end of the alleyway and think back for a second, remembering the door knock.

Shuffling awkwardly you wait with baited breath until the small socket slides open, a pair of eyes give you a once over before the door creaks open.

You're instantly met with a wall of sound, loud music and a deep bass coming from behind the broad shouldered bouncer.

"You comin' or what?" he asks, clearly annoyed.

You duck your head and slide past him, confusion hitting you like a truck.

Walking through a dark hallway, you make your way towards the source of music, the closer you get the more your eyes start to adjust, there's small dim lights on the walls but they do nothing.

When you reach the end the door is covered by a heavy black curtain and another attendant is standing by.

They barely pay you any mind as they lift it back for you to walk past.

In all your years of espionage nothing could have trained you for this.

You stand there, eyes wide as you take in your surroundings.

This room is better lit but still dark; mood lighting. All across the room is people in various forms of nudity and undress. Masses of skin and writhing bodies. The room is a red and almost all surfaces are velvet, various toys and lewd art decorating the walls.

You're no stranger to sex and intimacy but you are way out of your depth here.

For a brief moment as you watch what is happening around you and forget why you came.

You take note of a bar at the back of the room, male and female waitstaff walking around naked with only black and white collars to their necks, if not for the trays of alcohol in their hands you'd think they were part of the activities.

Although judging by the waitress to the right of you being taken against a table perhaps they do join in the fun.

The wanton moaning and sounds of completion start to get to you, your mouth going dry as your body heats up. You go to leave, this is all too much and you can't focus, but as you turn to go your eyes catch on a figure, a very familiar figure.

This time when you see Bob he's only wearing his jeans, top half completely bare, but that's not what stopped you in your tracks; the woman holding his hand and pulling him along looks like you!

You choke on the saliva that's filled your mouth as your mind short circuits. This woman features are far too similar to yours to be a coincidence.

Same hair; length and colour, same build; height and weight, and if you had to guess you'd say she may even have the same eye colour.

You watch as he follows along obediently, a small plastic bag swinging by his side and a smile on his face as he's being lead from the room, through more curtained doors.

The burning inside you is no longer from arousal and embarrassment, you now feel very jealous.

Anger and hurt also bubble under the surface. Why would he go out to a club and find someone who looks like you when you look like you?

Okay, that's not a smart argument but he already has you, so he doesn't need her.

"You're overdressed," a deep voice says from beside you. Snapping you from your intelligent thoughts.

You turn towards the man but quickly avert your gaze when you realise how very naked and very turned on he his.

He lets out a chuckle at your innocence before talking again, "first time?" his voice is a little louder to cut through the sea of groaning.

"That obvious?" your laugh is strained and forced but polite none the less.

"Very," he chuckles, if not for his bare body and this entire situation you wouldn't mind talking to him, he kind of looks like Prince Caspian. "You want a drink?"

"Desperately," you reply without thinking, your eyes now landing on his face, strictly on his face, "but I'm curious as to what goes on behind those curtains," you point to the door Bob went through.

"Private rooms," he points to he left, "glory hole booths," he grabs two glasses of brown liquid off a passing waiters tray and hands you one, "whiskey," he nods.

Your heart plummets at the information but your grateful for the drink, though whiskey has never been your favourite it will do in a crisis.

"Want a closer look?" his voice is deep and sultry and honestly if you weren't bat shit crazy about the ex addict that lived three rooms down from you, you'd probably take him up on his offer.

"I'll have to take a rain check," you shrug apologetically but the tall handsome man with seemingly black eyes seems to take no offense with your rejection.

"Another time," he smiles as he leaves you to it, his attention already quickly being taken away buy a dark haired woman.

You make your way around the crowd, nervous that if you walk through and get too close someone might grab you and pull you in.

When you reach the curtain there's no attendant there to usher you through, which you're relieved about. The less people to witness whatever you're doing or about to do the better.

This hallway is much better lit, there are sconces by each door which is adorned with a metal plate that labels the room.

On each side of the hallway there are five doors, you're probably about to see a lot of stuff you don't want to but you're desperate.

You place your ear against the cold wood of the first door on the left, hoping to hear voices or at the very least you might be able to pick out Bobs moans? He's got a pretty deep voice so you've always assumed his sounds of pleasure would be just as deep.

Unfortunately the door is very thick and any sound or voices you hear are muffled and faint.

You take a breath before slowly turning the knob, cracking open only enough to see if the occupants are either Bob or the doppelganger - doppelbanger.

You let out a small miserable chuckle at your stupid word play and a small relieved sigh when you see they aren't in here, that is until you hear the whip come down on the mans ass and thighs, you wince at the crack but the man makes a sound that you once heard in a nature documentary about tigers so you guess he's having a hell of a time.

Good for him, at least someone is.

You continue on with your pervy task of violation as you switch to the other door opposite to this one.

You're not sure much time has passed but you're down to the last two doors.

You admittedly took a little longer as one of the rooms really intrigued you, a woman on her back with her head handing off the bed as a man quite literally fucked her throat.

Maybe you were a bit of a voyeur.

Maybe you needed therapy.

But first you needed to find Bob.

What would you do when you find him? Burst into the room like some perverted knight in shinning armour? It's not like Bob was here against his will. Would you confess that you like him? Is this really the time and place?

The rational thoughts leave your head when you hear a loud broken moan coming from your left, you let out a pitiful noise (and squeeze your legs together, what is wrong with you?) as part of you already know that this is Bob's room.

With practiced ease you crack the door open and hurt your own feelings when you confirm your suspicions. There lies Bob on the bed, red and covered in sweat as the copy of you slides off him and collapses on the side. You notice she's not even naked but your focus is not on her.

You're screaming in your own head to turn away, go home and cry into some ice cream - or better yet nachos, but you've already crossed so many boundaries tonight why not a few more?

Bobs eyes are closed, a very fucked and blissed out expression covers his face as he fights to catch his breath, thanks to the large angled mirror at the head of the bed you can see everything. His length, thickness, the veins how it curves slightly to the left - and to your utter surprise; a stick-and-poke tattoo high on his upper thigh, is that Kermit (?), close to his dick.

Which now is starting to get hard again.

You remember having a rather detailed conversation with Alexei about the refractory periods of Super Soldiers, the conversation was funny until it wasn't. Yelena's obvious discomfort of the topic her father chose was humourous until he started to make it personal and then everyone was uncomfortable.

"You goin' to the booths after this, Robby?" Not You asks as she traces a perfectly manicured finger over his chest, making him tremble slightly.

"Yeah," his breathing is back to normal but his voice is soft and slow, "will you be in there tonight?" he seems so hopeful and that causes your heart to crack open just a little bit more.

"Not tonight," she sounds almost sad, "but there's some good one's in there."

By now Bob is almost completely hard again and he goes to sit up on the side of the bed, Not You follows suit. That's when you notice it. Notice the clothes the copy is wearing.

She's dressed just like you.

And not just in clothes you own and wear sometimes, no she's wearing almost the exact same thing you're wearing now.

Same grey shirt with black sleeves and a small butterfly decal, the black jean jacket that has fallen down her arms is the same as yours, hell, even the white velvet scrunchy in her hair is the same.

What in the Twilight Zone, Invasion of the Body Snatchers is going on here?

A brief glance lower and you realise even her underwear is the same, red lace! How did he know what you're wearing?

Whatever guilt you previously felt over violating Bob is gone because this perv is just as bad.

And the thing that should probably be stressful is that you don't care. You don't care even a little bit. Bob is so desperate for you he basically replicated you.

Even though you were right there!

Okay, so the anger is back.

In your moment of realisation you didn't notice Bob getting to his feet and getting dressed, even the Replicant has changed back to her other outfit, which was easy - nipple pasties and black lacy panties.

You close the door quietly and start to panic when Bob starts moving to leave. He can't catch you here now!

You hot foot it to the end of the hallway and out through the curtain, if you bravely risk your hygiene and safety by going through the Naked Sea you could probably make it out before Bob exits the hallway.

But the sight of Yelena standing in front of the exits causes you to stop still and let out a far too loud "what the fuck!"

Thankfully the man jackrabbiting into the woman near you and her sounds of tortured bliss drown out your frustrated cry.

The Jackrabbit man makes awkward eye contact with you - awkward for you, he seems to rather enjoy it.

Before you can stop yourself you give him a thumbs up and a "nice form!" before turning to the glory hole hallway, not even waiting to see the reply from the man.

This hallway is almost identical to the last, except there are double the amount of doors and each pair of doors are closer together. There's two signs above the entrance to the hallway; one with a large hole and a lewd drawing of a lower half; legs spread, the other more simple, a smaller hole with a penis coming through it.

You head down to the end of hallway and open the door to the right, the penis hole side.

Weird thing to say.

Thankfully it's empty, you lock the door behind you and take a seat on the admittedly comfy cushion and wait for this to all blow over.

You have to admit, the sound proofing in this place is pretty spectacular, the small speakers in the corner playing soft music also adds to the ambiance. This place is kinda nice. Maybe that's why Yelena was here.

Wait! Why the hell was she here? Who else comes here? Is this a hangout place for the Thunderbolts to decompress? How come you weren't invited?

Unfortunately you weren't meant to find peace because your quiet moment is interrupted by someone entering the stall connected to yours.

If you hadn't have been in such as rush you might have noticed the small lights next to the door that signified occupancy and that when you locked the door the light went from red to yellow, which meant the person inside was waiting for another.

But your earlier gloating about being a good spy was now invalid because you are a terrible spy.

You hear someone clear their throat on the other end followed by the shuffling of clothes. You go to rush out protests, putting your face dangerously close to the hole but that's when your eyes catch on something.

Hi-ho, Kermit the fucking frog.

What was he thinking, honestly.

"Is this o-okay?" his deep voice cuts through the silent tension, Bob completely unaware of the conundrum you're currently facing.

Whelp, when in Rome.

You try to drop your voice an octave lower before answering in a whisper, you'd rather be strapped to a car battery again then face the humiliation of Bob finding you here.

"F'course, sweetheart," you inwardly curse as the pet name you normally call Bob comes out automatically.

The desperate whimper Bob lets out proves that he didn't mind one bit.

"Like it, like it when you call me that," his voice is already wrecked but that could be chalked up to his previous activities.

A sour taste fills your mouth and you silently scold yourself.

This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you will not ruin this for yourself!

In your brief trance Bob has slipped his cock through the hole, and you let out an audible gasp; not intending for it to be that loud you bite your lip.

"Like that, honey?" he asks, letting his pet name for you easily slip through his lips.

Or maybe he just calls everyone that, you think bitterly before scolding yourself again.

Stop it!

"It's thick," you hum, "I like that," you move a little closer and Bob lets out a small shutter at your warm breath against his member. You could really have some fun with this.

"Put it in your mouth, honey," he sounds desperate, pathetic, just like you feel, "suck on it, please."

His cock bobs in front of you, a small bead of pre cum gathers at the tip and you find yourself utterly entranced.

You lean forward and lick over the head, making sure to clean off all the salty liquid before wrapping your hand around the base.

His hips move closer to the wall giving you more to work with, suddenly you hear a slight thud above you followed by a muffled whine, if you had to guess Bob probably dropped his head against the wall in front of him.

A small breathy chuckle falls from your lips onto the underside of his cock, which in turn twitches in your hand. He's so sensitive.

You slowly lick the vein at the base all the way up to the tip, repeating the action a few more times just to spread some saliva around.

"Pl-please," you like when he begs, "I want more," he whines again.

"Be a good boy for me," you whisper, you think he didn't hear you but judging by the small curse you know he did. You remember Bucky saying how the Serum enhances the senses.

"I'll be good," he swears, "I'll be so good, I p-promise, honey."

You clench your thighs together, the deep vibration mixed with the desperation in his voice getting to you.

You lean forward and take the head of his cock in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and adding a tight suction before taking more of him in.

"Fuck!" he slams a fist down on the wall as you continue to suck him down, only stopping when he hits the back of your throat.

You hold him there for a minute, savouring the feeling of him, taking joy in the fact you're finally living out one of your fantasies.

Unfortunately you never mastered the whole gag reflex thing and the burning in your eyes and throat is becoming too much, you pull off of Bob with a loud gag followed by a whine before going to apologise, Bob doesn't let you.

"Fuck, honey, do that again," his voice comes out rushed, "please choke on my cock again."

This isn't your first blow job but a quick suck and fuck with a few men who weren't even close to the size of Bob really makes a difference.

You gracelessly wipe your eyes and nose before spitting on your hand and giving him a few strokes, base to tip, he slightly stutters forward with a groan.

You get higher on your knees and kiss the head of his cock twice before swallowing it down, making sure to cover your teeth the deeper you take him.

Before you can make it all the way down Bob lets out a broken whimper as he thrusts forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat hard making you gag, you pull back to collect yourself as you hear Bob rush out apologies.

You don't really hear him as you watch a thick string of saliva that's connected from your mouth to his cock, you watch mesmerised as it starts to sag down, before it breaks you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him again.

The words die on his lips and is replaced by a drawn out moan, deep and warm, one that you could find yourself getting used to hearing.

You don't shy away from the uncomfortable feeling of him at the back of your throat, instead you lean into the burn, with each and every gag Bob lets out a small sound of pleasure or a curse, every time you swallow around him; savouring every drop of pre cum that dribbles out of his cock he hits the wall with his hand.

He has his thrusting pretty much under control but each time one sneaks through, thankfully it's not hard enough to bring you to a stop.

You're suddenly reminded of the woman on the bed getting her face fucked, how she barely choked.

You try to remember hushed conversations whispered between friends in the middle of the night at high school sleepovers; if you relax the throat and breath through your nose it's much easier.

You tighten your fist that's still wrapped around the base of Bobs cock, too long to fit entirely in your mouth, and you rub your thumb on the underside, gently over his vein. A move you'd normally do when holding his hand while watching a move.

"Oh, fuck," his voice is raw and full of pleasure, "I'm c-close," you think you can hear scratching against the wall, "honey, I'm so close."

You relax your throat as much as you can while trying to breath through your nose, allowing yourself to feel pleasure, you reach down and unbutton your jeans.

"Yes, touch yourself," Bob whimpers, his sensitive hearing picking up on an almost soundless action, "cum with me, honey."

You push past the waistline of your underwear and groan at how wet you are, the vibration sends a thrill through Bobs cock and he lets out a debauched moan at the feeling.

Wasting no time you use two fingers to gather your slick before rubbing it over your sensitive clit, your whole body is wracked with a shiver at the feeling.

You get to work catching up on your orgasm, honestly you're not that far behind, you truly believe that you'd would have been able to cum from the feeling of Bobs cocks and rubbing your thighs together alone.

You match your fingers with the pace of your mouth, flicking your bundle of nerves when ever you flick your tongue over his tip.

"Switch, fuck, switch hands, honey," bob pleads and you slow down just a fraction making him whine, "want your slick on my cock," he begs.

A noise falls from your mouth that you never thought you could make, a moan mixed with a whimper, muffled by Bobs cock, you quickly follow his instructions and switch hands, but before you do you scoop up some of your wetness between your fingers.

As you make the switch your eyes widen at the sticky mess coating your digits, you are far more gone then you thought.

Bob cries out when he feels the warm wet heat of your other hand, he ruts against the hole uncaring of the protesting whines you let out.

He babbles out apologies but makes no move of stopping, "sorry, honey, can't stop," he's breathless and wrecked, "s'your fault, you did this," he blames, he sounds too far gone like he doesn't even know he's talking, "drive me wild, love your sweet mouth, wanna feel your pussy."

You pull back with a moan, unable to keep up with his new punishing pace. You can already feel the the back of your throat bruising.

"Wanted this for so long, imagine it all the time," your breath catches at his confession although you're not sure what he's confessing to exactly, "get so hard in bed next t'you, honey, wanna come on your sleeping body, fuck."

The hand that was rubbing your clit stills as you listen to Bob, now terrified, but still very much aroused, that he's figured out it's you.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" you pull back and spit the saliva that's pooled in your mouth onto his cock, "desperate for me?" you ask before taking him back into your mouth, you resume the movement on your clit, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

"Yes, fuck, yes, honey," he slams in deeper again, hips stuttering as he's reaching his end, "wanna wake you with my cock buried inside you, wanna live inside you," he lets a choked moan slip out, "please, wanna cum."

The depraved confession followed by the desperate plea send you careening over the edge, your broken cry is muffled on Bobs cock and the vibration of your wrecked sobs paired with the grazing of your teeth on his sensitive skin is sending him right behind you.

Loud groans fall from his lips, followed by a name that is unmistakably yours, as he paints your throat with his cum, "swallow it all," he begs breathlessly, "keep me inside of you, always."

You hollow out your cheeks as you milk him dry, making sure not to waste even a single drop, your fingers are still lazily stroking over your sensitive bud as you slowly come down from the high.

Bob lets out another whine as you pull of his softening cock, the air still thick with tension, but this time it's a different sort of tension.

He pulls himself through the hole and you wait, like a coward, for him to talk first. Like a never ending torture he drags this out, zipping himself up and making himself more presentable.

Finally, finally, he says something, "I'm sorry."

You're so caught off guard you make a small noise of confusion.

"I didn't mean to say those things," he says, his voice sounds a little guilty, "or call you by that name," he takes a heavy breath, "it's just someone I have a crush on." His small humourless chuckle makes you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

He doesn't know it's you!

Are you happy or disappointed?

A bit of both, really.

"S'okay," you whisper, deciding to keep up the lie, at least for now, "I liked it."

His laugh now is breathy and a bit lighter, "good," there's a bit of movement on his side before you hear the opening of his door, "thank you."

Before you can answer he's gone. You sit back on your legs and take a second to wait for him to leave and to wrap your head around what just happened.

You sucked Bob's dick.

You sucked Bob's dick and he has no idea.

Bob has a Kermit the frog tattoo.

You're going to have so much fun with this.

As all these very important thoughts run through your head you're suddenly snapped back to reality when the door opens and closes again, part of you is excited, hoping it's Bob but when a heavy, gruff and familiar Russian accent fills the room you let out an undignified yelp and scramble to leave.

Does everyone come to this fucking club?!

On the walk back to the tower Bob lets out a small smirk, his senses filled with your scent, a smell that's undeniably you. He couldn't believe his luck when he saw you peaking on him in the private room at the club.

He's going to have so much fun with this.

#my writing #thunderbolts #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds #bob reynolds x you #lewis pullman

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bewitched-hours · 2 days ago

Note

ANGST IDEA: (if you write it uh.. he/they pronouns for reader)

Two-Time gets so enamored with y/n, they start following them around, until they get the idea,, that y/n would be the best sacrifice for The Spawn. And stabs them mid round (it could be anything, just as long as Two-Time or any other sentinel ends up killing y/n)

And 1x ends up being the killer..

While casting Necromancy, She summons y/n without realizing it, and while they’re checking their minions, he senses a new being under their control.

Revealing Y/n as a minion, somewhat still aware, like a sleepy person, kinda wobbling around and whatnot.. and feels a bit .. bad..

I don't do he/they but I can offer They/Them as the closest to male pronouns as stated in my ruleset(again, nothing against guys but I honestly write a bit more on relatability and for my fellow gals because I see mostly AMAB reader fics-) Also I may have misunderstood the request, I apologize if this isn't what you wanted-

Reader has They/Them-

It wasn't supposed to be even possible... But the Spectre seemed to have been bored.

And by the stars, Two Time's infatuation with you gave it an idea.

You thought it was innocent at first and that you could handle them despite not reciprocating their feelings. You were just kind like that, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings.

Hell, you even went out of your way to apologize to killers and make sure they didn't feel discouraged by a missed attack... Even though they wouldn't be in the first place...

But what no one could've seen coming was Two Time suddenly backstabbing you and successfully killing you..?

That wasn't right. Something was up, especially when you were nowhere to be found after that round. Even your cabin was completely destroyed which only meant...

You were actually dead dead. Gone from existence entirely.

Obviously, the blame was on Two Time. They stabbed you after all and all they could talk about was the Spawn possibly giving them a third life to better protect everyone.

It left a sour taste in their mouths but the Spectre did grant them a third life to keep them insane.

The next round was when things got interesting.

1x1x1x1 was chosen as the killer and in the middle of it, she chose to use necromancy. Raising minions from the dead to help him with taking care of the pesky survivors.

Although you horrified the survivors with your appearance, 1x failed to realise it until much later while checking on the minions because she felt a new presence among them.

And there you stood. Not entirely stable as you looked more like someone fighting off exhaustion and being on the edge of collapsing. It looked pitiful enough.

So when the round ended and you were taken to the killer's cabin with them, 1x merely picked you up and explained what happened quickly before hauling you off with them.

Did you even know what was happening? You didn't show any resistance but the vengeance she could feel from you when you spotted Two Time was enough to allow you to be a true minion.

There would just need to be a few modifications...

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

#forsaken roblox #forsaken #roblox forsaken #forsaken x reader #forsaken x y/n #two time forsaken #1x1x1x1

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onlygarden · 22 hours ago

Text

[i built my life around you] - yang jungwon

genre: angst

description: as jungwon grows more distant, you grow more desperate to tell him. after all, both of your lives were built around the other.

a/n: okay so. i know i closed my blog several months ago but is it too late to say sike. i've had so much inspiration and so many ideas that i NEED to work on so here we are. this one is heavy but everything else should be much more lighthearted hehe im so excited!!!!

of course, you were getting older. that much was blissfully apparent to you. it glared at you in many unnoticeable ways, though one stood tauntingly amongst the others; your carefully, cautiously woven relationship with jungwon was splitting, threatening to leave you lonely with each painful unwind. it’s hard to say whether you were ever prepared for a stage like this to approach the relationship you shared. the soul-binding, finger-intertwining relationship – the promise you built your life around, the bond which always extended an offer of foundation, assurance. the thought of jungwon was never accompanied by the thought of fragility or instability. thoughts of the future, for both of you, never fluttered without the company of the other. that’s the way it seemed, at least. both of you, hands intertwined, traversing each stage of life and quelling each other’s fears by mere presence. your soul laid bare to him, after all. both of your hearts were bared to the other, at all times. nothing he could hide from you, and nothing you could hide from him. as euphoric as it seems, his inability to hide himself from you offered you pain, as well.

you woke up before him this morning, much like most mornings, preparing a breakfast that the two of you will share. these moments were always precious to you – slow, easy, a private blanket of shared connections and natural conversation.

you perk up as you hear jungwon descending the stairs, a gesture not well hidden by your demeanor. not that you would want to hide it anyway. at least, you never did before.

“good morning, won,” you tell him, so simple and unhurried, much like the smile you offer him. he yawns, perching himself at a stool in front of the counter to observe as you prepare breakfast. it’s a daily occurrence, albeit, his eyes are always bulging with the words ‘i love you, i really do.’

“morning, baby,” he returns, offering a similar smile to you, but it lacks any of the familiar warmth you’ve gotten so accustomed to wrapping yourself in. it’s subtle, but you see it.

you see the way his attention is quickly absorbed by the notification arriving to his phone. the buzzing has become so prominently unsettling to you, sinking into every pore on every limb of your body, inviting itself without knocking, as a teasing reminder that you can’t keep his gaze anymore. you don’t just see it, you feel it.

“who’s that?” you ask, though you know the answer. it’s anyone or anything that will distract him from his life with you. his needy little thing – fond, exhausting, and fond.

“just the guys. wanting to hangout this afternoon,” his answer is clipped, his words not rooting into a natural conversation at all. in fact, his tone conveys the desire to just end the conversation as quickly as your eager mouth would allow.

just ask him if he’s going, your mind echoes. just rip off the bandaid. the worst he could say is yes, i’m leaving you to be painfully aware of your loneliness all day. though all he would truly say is ‘yes’ and your dramatics will take care of the rest. not too soul crushing.

“are you going?” you dare ask, but you’re not daring enough to look at him.

“yea,” he says, the syllable drifting easily off his tongue, simple in its creation. such a simple phrase, only three letters, brewing such destruction in your chest. it’s silly, almost, but it aids in solidifying your growing doubts; aids in your unwinding.

you don’t argue, and you don’t allow your feelings to seep through and spill all over him. you don’t want to be selfish, after all. is it selfish to crave the connection which came so naturally before? you can’t help but contemplate, maybe it’s only selfish when it’s not mutual.

“oh, okay,” you respond. it’s short, but it doesn’t lack any of the sweetness or warmth you usually send to him. your fondness towards him was nearly visible, radiating off of you.

his departure summons an ache that only his presence can soothe. everytime, you feel it, whether your mind thinks it’s pathetic or not. those thoughts are getting quieter, anyway – muted by the feelings threatening to overwhelm you.

when he returns that night, you’re still awake, resting on the couch. for you, the time crawled, but you’re certain he was so immersed in his time away that he couldn’t feel the hours passing at all. your hopes come flooding upon his arrival, whether you want to tame them or not, still clutching onto the silly concept that ‘this time, he’ll be excited to see me.’ of course, you wouldn’t dare to miss an interaction with him, no matter how brief it might be.

as he shuts the door behind him, he’s bright, rejuvenated, his body surrounded by peace. a contented sigh dances happily past his lips, proof of all the lovely traits he hasn’t been able to absorb in your presence lately.

“hey, baby,” he says, his words not accompanied by much more than a glance as he heads towards the kitchen. well that’s nice.

this time, you follow behind him, motivated by the relentless thoughts you’ve cycled through during your relentless time alone, reaching a certain state of delirium only the pain of uncertainty can send you into.

he’s setting down a few bags on the counter as you enter, seeming to revel in the bliss of disregarding you and your futile emotions.

“hey, i… i’ve been wondering,” you start, the lack of confidence, the fear making your tone flimsy. it doesn’t matter, so long as he will understand.

“what have you been wondering?” he asks, his focus now directed towards your meek, almost resigned figure, his brown eyes glazed with a fondness, a worry that his words can never truly convey. god, why do you have to squeeze his heart like this? especially when he’s agonizingly aware of where this conversation will go, and now he has no choice but to join it.

“why don’t you take me out anymore?” you ask, the well of emotion you’ve forced yourself to garner now threatening to overflow, akin to the tears shining against your eyes. of course, the tears are coming now, in the moment when all you desperately wish to do is tell him how you’ve been feeling.

each of your words cut into jungwon, bringing a heaviness to the atmosphere, but beginning to chip away at the boulder you’ve been carrying on your chest for months. he knew you would ask him this, he knew you noticed his distance – it was just something he’d grown content with disregarding. of course, it pains him, but of course, he needs to defend that contentedness.

he sighs, turning his attention back to the bag in front of him, a hint of irritation shielding his worry. he can’t bring himself to focus on you, and the raw splatter of emotion you’re displaying for him, because of him. it’s so, so much, and it underlines so purely the heaviness of the relationship he knows he promised to withstand.

“maybe i just wanted to spend time without you. do you always need to be around?” his eyes still stubbornly refuse to fall into yours, as he stubbornly removes items from the bag in front of him. you’re laying yourself bare for him, and he’s handing his irritation and dismissal to you in return. each of his words cut into you, the well of your vulnerability streaking freely across your face. you weren’t sure you trusted him with such vulnerability, anymore.

“jungwon, i-i’m lonely, i… i feel like i don’t even have you at all—”

a particularly loud slam of his palm against the counter slices through any remnants of those words tumbling from your weary lips. now, he’s looking at you.

“of course you are! dammit, everything is always… something with you. this is why i’ve been gone so much! i need a fucking break and you never give me that. you’re so goddamn needy. i can’t take it,” he admits, with his voice raised, laying himself bare before you. his eyes bore into yours, now stubbornly refusing to look away as he watches the way his words sink into you.

your tears decorated your face, and the ache overwhelming each of your senses bled through every word you spoke. you always wore your vulnerability so loudly, and it was true, you always sought him. however, it always felt mutual. you never thought you’d feel the need to hide yourself from him. you never thought he’d use your trust against you.

needy. through your tears, your voice raises too, begging to be heard and acknowledged.

“yea, maybe i am. maybe i am needy for wishing i didn’t have to be alone when i’m in a relationship! when you have someone who’s always there for you, it’s easy to forget what it’s like to be alone. it hurts, jungwon! i just wish you would make me a priority!”

his irritation bubbles, transforming into genuine anger, his voice fiercely refusing to lower in volume as the tension built by several months of concealing the raw issue ascends to the surface.

“a priority? i’ve done nothing but make you a fucking priority! it’s exhausting, i can’t spend a second away from you without you acting like a baby! do you realize how pathetic you are?!”

your features scrunch with hurt, the pain of every new admission, every insult weaving itself into your weary chest.

“why do you have to talk to me like that jungwon? why?! i’m telling you how i feel. you’ve spent almost no time with me for months, and it doesn’t make any sense to me because i thought we were happy–”

again, your words are so incredulous to him, he cannot let you continue.

“happy? you thought i was happy? you can’t make anyone happy,” he tells you, the anger arranging his words, his frustration, in a way that he knows will be painful for you, but he can’t soften for you yet.

“what?” your voice reaches him in a manner that is marginally quieter than just moments ago, the motivation to just beg him to understand is now flooding your exhausted body rapidly, your frustration and pain now dissolving into utter devastation. he’s never made you feel so crushed.

“you heard me. you can’t make anyone happy. you always need more, like a goddamn parasite. how do you not see it? i’ve been trying so hard to keep loving you, but i don’t even know if you’re worth all of this stress,” he tells you, each word blaring throughout every wrinkle of your mind, telling you that he’s finally being honest. these are jungwon’s genuine, unfiltered, unrepressed feelings for you, and you finally know.

with trembling legs, you turn your body around, muttering a pitiful “i’ll leave, then,” as your trembling hand struggles to clear your vision of the tears you could never seem to reign in.

“that’ll probably be for the best,” he voices, and he knows he doesn’t mean it before the words even escape his lips, but the anger consumes him. he can only hope that you know he could never mean that.

you force your legs to carry you to the door, wanting so violently to leave the home you poured so much love into, evidence of the love you shared with jungwon seeping from every crevice of every room. his beautiful connection with you woven into your soul, now snapping as each moment of doting, each moment of trust and security rewrites as cruel insincerity. you couldn’t bear to contemplate too long, knowing the memories would only engulf you. nor could you bear to turn around and fall into jungwon’s eyes.

again, his heart constricts. he’s never found the ability to just endure, not when he can see your tears, your pain. after all, he truly does love you. the panic he feels as you reach for the doorknob jolts his body into action, and his legs are dragging him towards you without a single shred of reluctance. he needs to make you stay, with every fiber of his being.

“baby! baby, wait, i shouldn’t have–”

even as he crosses the room to grab your wrist, with speed that can only be offered to him by pure desperation, you still find difficulty in shaking the doubt. you can’t trust that he’s being genuine, not after the honest frustration that flowed from him only moments ago, and certainly not after the months of avoiding you on purpose.

“no! no, jungwon, you don’t have to pretend. you told me how you feel,” you shout, the tears demanding you to speak past the tightness in your throat.

god, he can’t let you believe that. he could never allow his anger to plant doubt within your mind. he pulls your body closer to his, feeling your fatigue in your gentle attempts to resist him, to tug away from him. his arms wrap around you, blanketing you, offering you the tight comfort and warmth you had been deprived of for so long.

“i love you, baby. i love you so much… i was just so angry, but i was so stupid. so, so stupid. you can’t leave, okay? i should’ve… i should’ve never been so angry with you. anything you want, baby… i’ll spend every second with you. i don’t want to hurt you. just please, don’t leave,” he tells you, his words desperate, gentle, scattered, his own neediness woven into every word. this time, his raw vulnerability mirrors your own, as he bares his soul before you.

“no, jungwon! stop! why can’t you just stop lying to me? why do you have to destroy me like this?! i don’t even know you anymore. i thought i did, but i don’t,” you shout, your words pleading with him to just let your suffering end, as much as you don’t want to spend a second of your life without him. but he’s already made you do that, countless times, hasn’t he?

jungwon’s eyes stretch wide, trembling with the fear that this will truly be his last moment looking at you, his delicate features furrowed with desperation.

his grip on your body tightens, binding you to him, even as your body begs him to free you.

“baby, please… don’t… don’t say that. you do know me. i’m just… i’m selfish. i’ve been so selfish. i know im still being selfish, but i just can’t let you leave,” he’s squeezing you, his words are squeezing your heart, and he’s trying with every bit of his desperation to keep you close to him in every manner of the word.

“you didn’t care! it didn’t matter to you at all! and even though you’ve done nothing but push me aside, i still love you! i still love you, so fucking much, jungwon, don’t you understand?!” you let your pain soak into him, your voice still raised with the symptoms of it. you refuse to allow yourself to give in to his warmth just yet, not because of pride, but fear.

god, does it pain him. the plain honesty of what he’s done to you, laid out before him in every bit of the suffering he’s made you endure. you, the woman he cherishes through every phase of life, because there would be no meaning or purpose in it otherwise.

“i understand. baby, please, i understand. just please, let me… let me fix everything. i promise you, i’ll spend every second of my life making you feel as special as i know you are,” he begs, refusing to cease his desperation until he’s sure he’ll never lose you.

you’ve never seen him so fraught, though it’s not like you’ve ever tried to leave him before, either. you believe him, you truly do. the tension and resistance in your shoulders finally makes its departure, leaving you fragile against him.

“okay, won… okay,” you relent.

through the doubt which you know, and he knows, will need patience to sweep away, he reminds you of the love he was so foolish to withhold. your body slowly, cautiously begins to relax against his embrace, the kind caress of his hand against your back, and the vulnerability in his words, rebinding each connection you began to unravel.

“please, never leave, i don’t know what life would be without you,” he reminds, ensuring that he will not make you doubt him a second time.

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cupidstrace · 2 days ago

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Once Upon A Time

Summary; You don't fall in love easily. But there was a time. Pairing; Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content Warnings; character death

You sit across from a man in a small diner, watching him drone on and on about the gritty details of corporate as if you yourself don’t deal with it every passing day. The world outside the window speeds by in a blur, just like it always has, ever since three years ago.

He offers a charming smile that has your heart curling in your chest. You smile back.

His lips move, and you have to will yourself to listen. “You’re staring at me. What, have you fallen already?”

You laugh softly.

You don’t fall in love anymore. Or believe in it.

But there was once a time.

You were once a kid, brave enough to chase the impossible. Naive enough to believe you could reach it. A dreamer, full of grand ideas, chasing some sort of utopia in which everything would end up fine, and you would lose nothing in the process.

But that’s not how the world works. There’s give and there’s take. There’s the living and the dead and the fact that nothing will ever remain truly stagnant. Not love. Not even you.

You were once in love.

Gojo Satoru was insufferably cocky. Reckless. Arrogant, even.

But he was brilliant. Brave enough to chase the impossible, and stubborn enough to achieve it. He believed that strength wasn’t about how many enemies you could bring to their knees, but how many people you could keep standing.

And he was good.

He had a penchant for getting in over his head and telling you nothing. He’d come home and curl up with his head in your lap like that made up for all the silences, the half-truths, the lives he lived outside your door. He said he was a teacher. But he never let you visit the school. He never let you all the way in.

He’d watch you drift off fondly and be gone by the time you woke.

And yes, he wasn’t always present. Yes, you never married him, too swept up in arguments over finances and commitment and you never think of me as anything but a way to redeem yourself to realize that he wanted to propose. Yes, you never got any further than small murmurs at 2 am about a white picket fence and two kids in a faraway land where nothing ever mattered.

But you loved him. And he loved you. Very much.

He’d take you out when time allowed, which wasn’t very often. You’d wait late into the night to hand him a bag of sweets and see him beam. He’d whisper names in his sleep that he couldn’t bring himself to say in the daylight, and you never asked. Just held him closer.

He looked at you as if you were some fragile thing, and he was breaking you, ruining you, just by being fragile himself. He held you as if you were worth everything, and his worth was determined by how close he could mold your body to his. As if your warmth might redeem him.

Sometimes, in the quiet of the evening, with the TV humming something forgettable in the background, he’d ask if you thought he was strong enough to protect you. Even though he failed others. Even though the weight of a million could-have-beens pressed into every word he uttered and every action he took.

You used to tell him that strength didn’t mean carrying the world. It meant being vulnerable enough to let others into that world.

And for a while, you believed that.

You believed a lot of things, once.

The man taps your hand softly, and you snap out of it, offering an apologetic look. “Sorry. I was just.. thinking.”

He nods, eyes crinkling. “Do tell.”

You stare at him for a moment, searching his eyes for some flash of blue that you know won’t be there. Searching his smile for the feigned arrogance of the man that held you close all those years ago. “Do you ever wish you could turn back time?”

He hums, taking a sip of his drink before responding. “Is this one of those first date opener questions?”

You muster a soft laugh. “Maybe.”

“Yes,” he responds. “All the time. The past is like.. sand after a long day at the beach. Sometimes you go home and sit in silence and realize there’s still grains left in your asscrack. But they’ll wash away. You can’t keep going back to the beach just to slip more sand in your bathing suit.”

You blink at his metaphor, then tilt your head. “You go to the beach a lot?”

He grins. “All the time. You?”

You nod.

You wish you could turn back time to that day three years ago and ask him to stay. You wish you could stop him at the door, hold his face in your hands, and tell him not to go. Not this time. You wish you’d begged. Screamed. Something. Anything.

Instead, all you have left is a voicemail.

It’s old. Glitchy. You’ve played it so many times the words have started to slur together, like the memory of his voice is disintegrating. Softened by time, warped by grief. You’ve listened to it while staring at the photo frame on your nightstand, as if you could will him back into existence just by refusing to forget.

Hi, baby. I’m helping one of my students, so I might come back late.

..hey.

When I get home, let’s get married.

A weak laugh follows. It hurts to hear it every time, like he knew he’d never get the chance.

Let’s buy that little house on an island somewhere no one knows our names. We’ll build a fence. Two kids. No more work. No more secrets. Just you and me. I promise.

I love you, baby.

I’ll be home soon.

But he never was. Not really.

Not even a body. No final words beyond that message, stuttering through static like some ghost caught on repeat.

All they gave you was an apology. Gutted and formal and not nearly enough of an explanation to excuse the fact that he was gone. And a small, weathered box his subordinate found beneath your shared wardrobe. With a ring inside.

The one you pointed to years ago in a window you passed once and never mentioned again. Still gleaming. Still waiting.

Sometimes, in your lowest moments, you play the message back and whisper that you would’ve said yes. Because you would’ve. A million times over.

But the line’s long dead.

You blink and you’re back to the present, watching the man across from you motion to his bicep. “And that’s where the jellyfish stung me.”

He looks up at you as if waiting for some sort of awestruck look. Or concern. Or maybe both.

You hesitate, then muster a small “oh.”

The man pauses at your reaction, then laughs, sheepish. “It wasn’t a bad sting though. Anyway, yeah.. that was the first time I went to the beach. The real beach, not the metaphorical one. I’ve been hooked ever since.”

You let yourself giggle at his joke, hand coming up to twist at the ring hanging on your necklace. A nervous tic. “..I always wanted to live somewhere tropical. Remote. With shore for miles.”

He grins and nods enthusiastically. “Me too. Somewhere fun, you know? A fresh start.”

“Right,” you whisper, looking down at the ring. “Somewhere peaceful.”

He catches the shift in your tone, and for a brief moment, something unreadable flickers in his eyes. Not suspicion, or pity. Quiet understanding. “..an ex?”

“My boyfriend,” you murmur. “He was – is – somewhere peaceful. I hope.”

You clear your throat and let the silence settle like dust. Let it say everything you won’t. He doesn’t try to sweep it away.

The server comes by with a smile and a check you barely remember asking for. You both reach for it at the same time.

“I’ve got it,” he says, hand brushing yours.

You let him.

Outside, the sky has turned that soft sienna that only comes at the end of a particularly long day.

You wonder, briefly, if he’s up there.

If the stars twinkle less to mock you for remembering and more to remind you he’s smiling, watching, from somewhere you can no longer reach.

He holds the door open for you. “Want to take a walk?”

You stare at him, then smile softly. “Yes. Thank you.”

You walk side by side through streets you’ve walked before, by a sunset you’ve seen a million times over. But it’s different, somehow. Lighter.

“Do you think people only get one true love?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

He thinks for a moment, then looks down at you. His hand touches yours, light, then he intertwines your fingers with his when you don’t pull away. “I think if you’re lucky, you get one true love who teaches you something. And if you’re brave, you’ll keep your heart open long enough to find it again.”

You stay quiet. But your shoulders drop, and the words seep through your ribs, somewhere between the neverending ache and something softer.

The ring on your necklace lies warm on your skin. The sun disappears beneath the horizon line, winking out like a bittersweet goodbye.

Maybe you were right. Maybe nothing stays stagnant.

Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

You squeeze his hand and keep walking.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo jjk #gojo angst #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk angst

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clarkeysbedchem · 1 day ago

Note

heyyyy!! idk if you’ve done this yet w another character, but i was thinking maybe some buck x reader where buck is sick and tries to put on a brave face but reader takes care of him and it’s fluffy and sweet. thank youuuu!! <3

take care of you

evan buckley x fem reader

summary: buck is sick and you take care of him

a/n: this is my first 911 fic, so i do hope i’ve done it justice and i hope you enjoy it

masterlist | main masterlist

Buck has never been great at admitting when he’s was less than okay.

He has always been the type to brush off injuries, ignore fevers, and claim that he was fine. You always knew better.

So, when he walked into the firehouse with his shoulders hunched over and movements sluggish, like every step was an effort. You knew instantly that something was wrong. He clung to his hoodie pulling tight around him like a shield hiding the shivers racking through his body.

He nodded faintly at you as he walked in, his eyes rimmed with red, and skin void of colour beneath an unnatural flush.

You stood by your locker eyeing him suspicious. His hair was tousled like he hadn’t attempted to do it for the day, and the sleeves of his hoodie were pulled low over his hands. There was no bounding entrance, no joke cracked, no clapping Chim on the back. Just a quiet nod as he beelined for his locker.

“Hey, Buck,” you greeted softly, eyes lingering on the slight wobble in his step.

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and strained.

You arched a brow, watching him a moment longer. You saw it. The slight sway as he tied his boots, the subtle wince as he straightens up. You decided it was your job to keep an eye on him from that moment.

The morning passed by in a blur of routine: gear checks, equipment cleaning, reports to file. Buck moved through it all like a shadow. He hadn’t made one snarky comment, there was no bite back at Chim’s heckling, and no laughter when Eddie made a horrific joke.

The only time you saw a shift in his frown was when he’d because he caught you watching him, but it never reached his eyes.

You had caught him leaning against the engine more than once, eyes fluttering shut for just a second too long. When Eddie asked him to help hoist a ladder, Buck grunted something and complied, but you noticed how he winced, how his legs shook when he thought no one was looking.

He was trying so hard to pretend he was fine.

And maybe no one else seemed to notice that he wasn’t except you.

Then a call came in just after noon.

A non-emergency call thank God. It was a sweet elderly woman down in the suburbs whose cat had climbed onto the roof and decided that is where it would remain. No danger. Just a chance to help, reassure, and get some fresh air.

You arrived on scene with Hen and Eddie, and while they dealt with the ladder setup and calming the frantic homeowner, you scanned the street for Buck.

You found him beside the truck, half hidden in its shade. He was gripping the side of the engine with whitening knuckles, and his other hand pressed flat against his lower back like he was steadying himself. Sweat beaded on his forehead, soaking into the neck of his turnout gear, and when his eyes closed, he swayed slightly.

“Buck,” you said hesitantly as you approached, rummaging in your pocket. He startled slightly, eyes glassy.

“I’m good,” he rasped, “I just need a sec.”

“Uh-huh.” You held out a bottle of water and a protein bar, “Drink. Eat. Then sit.”

He looked at you like you were offering him gold, not snacks, “You’re a lifesaver,” he mumbled, uncapping the bottle with trembling fingers.

“Just don’t make me carry you back to the truck,” you teased gently.

He laughed for the first time all day, “Could be fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but your hand lingered on his.

The rest of the day went pretty uneventful. The team had returned back to the station, and went into their post-call clean-up, before settling into the calm between calls.

You had spent most of your down time pretending not to look at Buck, and failing miserably. He tried to carry on like usual, but he was fading fast. After lunch, you noticed he hadn’t touched his food, which was very unlike him considering his love for Bobby’s cooking, and instead just pushed it around with a fork before disappearing onto the sofa.

You waited for the rest of the crew to disappear back downstairs before joining him.

Sure enough, you found him on the sofa curled tightly under one of the many blankets you had left in the firehouse. His hoodie had scrunched around his neck, his boots were still on, and one of his arms draped over his eyes. His breathing was slow, congested, and soft.

You smiled crouching beside him and gently shaking his arm, “Hey, Buck,” you said softly.

He groaned and blinked up at you, “What time is it?”

“Time for you to go home.”

“I’m fine,” he murmured, already trying to sit up.

You stood quickly, hands out ready to steady him. He got to his feet and immediately swayed, blinking rapidly like the room was spinning.

“Okay,” he mumbled, grabbing onto your out stretched hands, “Maybe not one hundred percent.”

“That’s what I thought.” You nodded, snaking an arm around his waist letting him lean against you as you guided him downstairs and to the lockers.

You flagged Bobby with a small smile, “I’m gonna take Buck home,” you informed simply, trying to ignore the knowing smirk that played on your Captains face.

“Good. And maybe knock some sense into him while you’re at it.”

“Try not to burn the place down while we’re gone.”

Eddie followed behind a sluggish Buck with a raised eyebrow, “Wait, you’re taking him home?”

Hen looked between the two of you, then back at Chimney, “They’re seriously still not together?”

“I’m starting to think they’re doing it just to mess with us,” Chimney muttered.

“Dumbasses,” Hen sighed fondly.

You pretend not to hear them as a soft smile played on your lips, and you guided Buck to your car.

The warmth of Buck’s apartment wrapped around you the moment you stepped through the door, the dim light a stark contrast from the station and the faint scent of cedar wood lingered through the air. You guided Buck up to his room pushing him to sit on the bed despite his half-hearted grumbles of protest.

You stood between his legs tapping his biceps gently, he lifted them with a wince letting you pull the sweat soaked hoodie off his warm body. The tips of your fingers skimming over his skin making his shiver instinctively.

“You do know I’m not dying, right?” He mumbled sleepily, rubbing his sore eyes before peering up at you.

“Didn’t say you were,” you said, turning away from him to toss the hoodie in the hamper, “But you’re definitely out of the count tomorrow.”

He collapsed back onto bed with a dramatic sigh, “You’re bossy when you’re concerned.”

You pulled the duvet over him, then leaned down, “You like it.”

His smile was small, sleepy, “A little.”

You kissed his temple, soft enough that it barely even registered in the moment, and padded downstairs to the kitchen.

When you were younger, your mother had always made the same soup when you were sick. Sometimes you wished you’d get sick just to have some, and you carried on that tradition when you got older. Garlic, ginger, rice, chicken and carrots. A dish that was comforting, nostalgic, and medicinal all in one.

The apartment filled with the gentle bubbling of the pot and the scent of broth and herbs. You hummed quietly as you worked, feeling oddly at home in the situation. When the soup was ready, you ladled a generous portion into a bowl, and you poured the rest into a container labelling it with the date and slid it into his fridge with a note stuck to the lid: reheat this. Or I will come do it for you.

You walked up the stairs carefully, the warmth of the bowl warming your hands and when you spotted Buck it warmed your heart all the same. You found him exactly where you left him, curled on his side, chest rising and falling steadily.

You placed the soup on the nightstand, cautious not to wake him, then leaned over, brushing a few curls back from his forehead.

His skin was still burning against your touch.

You bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his damp temple, “Goodnight, Buck.”

You turned to go but was stopped by the feeling of fingers wrapping weakly around your wrist.

“Can you stay?” he mumbled, barely audible, “Just for a little longer.”

You looked at him, at his flushed cheeks and pleading eyes, and your heart splintered a little.

“Yeah,” you whispered, “Of course.”

You toed off your shoes, and shimmied out of your jeans, before climbing into the bed beside him. He immediately shifted closer, curling into your side, his nose tucked against your shoulder, breath warm against your collarbone.

Your fingers found the curls at the crown of his head twirling them softly, feeling him relax further into you with every minute.

“Good night, Buck.” you whispered again, letting your own eyes drift shut.

taglist: @sdmnpact @triplefrontierbabe

#buck x reader #buck fics #buck x fem reader #evan buckley x fem reader #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #evan buckley fics #911 show #911 x reader #911 fanfic #911 fics #clarkeysbedchem

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cowboylikemac · 1 day ago

Text

THE WAITING GAME || J.P

a/n: i am honestly not sure how to feel about this but if you love it, i’ll end up loving it. Honestly its giving jeff buckley’s yearning.

summary: James Potter touches you like it means nothing. You feel it like it means everything. Best friends caught in the in-between. Too close to be casual, too scared to be honest. It’s all glances that linger too long, hands that almost hold, and words neither of you are brave enough to say. But how long can you keep waiting for someone who’s already halfway yours?

including: Slow emotional, mutual pining, angst, no explicit content or character death

word count: 2k+

James Potter always touches you like it means nothing.

An arm slung over your shoulder. A hand on your arm when he’s laughing too hard at Sirius. His chin on your shoulder as he reads your Herbology notes upside down. You’ve learned to breathe through it. To pretend your skin doesn’t buzz every time he’s close.

You’re best friends. You don’t ruin that.

But it’s hard.

Especially when he curls up next to you on the Gryffindor common room couch and falls asleep halfway through some dull Astronomy chapter you offered to read out loud. His head is on your chest, soft snoring, lips slightly parted. You don’t dare move.

You also don’t sleep.

You stare at the ceiling for two hours and wonder if he hears how fast your heart beats when he’s this close.

⸻

You get good at hiding it.

The longing. The way you look for him in every hallway, laugh a little louder when he’s nearby. The way you watch his hands, his long fingers, calloused knuckles, a freckle on his middle knuckle you once counted just to distract yourself.

He talks about girls sometimes. You pretend not to care.

“You think Smith likes me?” he asks one afternoon, sprawled on your bed eating half your chocolate stash.

You shrug. “Probably. You’re loud. People notice loud.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Do I?” you joked.

He throws a pillow at you. You throw it back.

⸻

One morning, he’s already at your table in the library when you arrive. There’s an extra quill waiting for you, your favorite fruit chews, and a note folded in half.

“Thought you’d forget your stuff. You always do.”

You roll your eyes but keep the note.

You tuck it in your pocket and read it again three times during History of Magic.

He never mentions it.

⸻

Sixth year feels heavier.

He’s taller. His voice is deeper. Lily Evans finally starts looking at him the way he’s always looked at her. It makes your stomach twist.

You hate that you see it. That he doesn’t seem to care as much anymore. Or maybe he’s just tired of waiting for her, the same way you’re tired of waiting for him.

You sit beside him in Transfiguration and pretend it doesn’t mean anything when your knees touch.

You lend him your scarf one day when he forgets his. He forgets to give it back for a week. When he does, it smells like him.

⸻

You tell yourself you’re fine with this.

This limbo. This almost.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you.

Because how could you? What would you even say?

“I think about kissing you every time you lean too close.”

or something even better

“I feel like I’m falling in love with someone who thinks of me like a place to rest, not stay.”

You’d sound crazy. Mental.

But worst of all— you’d lose him.

So you smile. Laugh. Let him get close, but never close enough.

You wait. And wait. And wait.

⸻

It changes one night in November.

It’s late. Past curfew. You’re both on the Quidditch pitch, lying in the middle of the grass after James dragged you out for “fresh air and perspective,” whatever that means.

You’re lying side by side, his fingers close to yours. Not touching. Just close enough to feel the warmth radiating like a furnace.

He sighs. “Everything feels like it’s moving too fast lately.”

You glance at him. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno. Lily. School. Life. Everything feels like it’s on the edge of changing and I can’t tell if that’s a good thing.”

You chew your lip. “Maybe it is.”

He turns his head toward you. “What if I don’t want it to change?”

You look at him.

And you say the bravest thing you’ve ever said “Then tell it to stay.”

James blinks.

You keep going, even though your chest feels like it’s caving in. “Sometimes… I feel like I’m standing still and everything else is moving on without me.”

He’s quiet.

And then he whispers, “Mine doesn’t move without you.”

You stare at him. His voice is low. Vulnerable. Like he’s saying more than he knows how to say.

“James—”

“I think about it,” he says suddenly. “Us. Sometimes.”

Your heart stutters. “Oh.”

He laughs softly. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “That you think about it too.”

You look down. “I think about it all the time.”

He’s still. Like he’s scared to move, scared it’ll break whatever moment this is.

But then he reaches out — slowly — and takes your hand.

Just that.

Not a kiss. Not a confession.

Just your hand in his.

And somehow, that’s everything.

⸻

After that night, nothing’s different.

And yet everything is.

He still jokes. Still ruffles your hair. Still falls asleep beside you with a book open in his lap. But now, his fingers find yours under the table. His arm lingers around your waist longer than it should. And when he smiles at you, it’s softer.

You still don’t talk about it.

Neither of you are ready.

But when you see Lily Evans look at him and he doesn’t look back, you feel something loosen in your chest.

You’re still waiting.

But it feels different now.

Like maybe — finally — he’s waiting too.

⸻

(James POV)

James Potter doesn’t know when it started.

Maybe it was fourth year, when you cursed Mulciber for hexing his broom and then shrugged it off like it was nothing.

Or maybe it was fifth, when you fell asleep on his shoulder in the library and slightly drooled on his robes and he didn’t even care.

Or maybe it was always there — this quiet ache that sat low in his chest every time you laughed and it wasn’t at something he said.

He doesn’t know.

He just knows it’s getting harder to ignore.

⸻

You’ve always been his soft spot.

He thinks he hides it well. He teases you like he teases Sirius. Shoves your shoulder in the hall.

But he notices things about you that he doesn’t notice about anyone else.

You chew your lip when you’re nervous, even though it annoys you. You hate coffee but drink it every morning needing anything to wake up. You sleep on your side, always facing the wall. You pretend not to care when people hurt you, but you always go quiet after.

He notices.

He wishes he didn’t.

⸻

When he talks about other girls, he watches you.

He doesn’t mean to — he just does.

Watches how your jaw tenses, how your eyes flick down, how you suddenly start organizing your bag like it’s the most urgent thing in the world.

And every time, he feels like the worst person alive.

Because he wants your attention, but not like this. Not through jealousy. Not through hurt.

But if he asked you — really asked you — what would you say?

⸻

He dreams about you sometimes.

He never tells anyone, obviously. Not Sirius. Not Remus. Definitely not you.

But they’re not always romantic. Sometimes you’re just… there. Laughing in the rain. Sitting on the Quidditch stands. Reading upside down with your foot tapping against his knee.

But sometimes, it’s more.

Sometimes, it’s your hand in his, your lips against his throat, your voice in the dark saying his name.

He always wakes up sweating.

⸻

When he finds you on the Quidditch pitch that night, something in him unravels.

He doesn’t plan on saying anything. Just wanted to be near you. That’s always been enough.

But the way you look at him — like you see him, not the version he pretends to be which only makes it harder to lie.

He says everything without saying anything.

“Everything’s changing.”

“I don’t want it to.”

“I think about us.”

And then your hand in his.

Just that.

It should’ve been too small to mean anything.

But it feels like the start of something he’s been running from for years.

⸻

He doesn’t kiss you.

Not because he doesn’t want to — but because he wants it to mean more than almost.

He wants to be sure. Not of you — he’s always been sure of you. But of himself. Of the version of him that’s not just the Quidditch captain or the loudest in the room or the idiot pining after Lily Evans.

He wants to be the version of him that’s worthy of your attention.

And maybe — just maybe — that version is already here.

⸻

Every time you’re near him after that, his whole body feels wired.

Like if you touched him for one second too long, he’d combust.

He doesn’t tell you this.

He lets his hand brush yours under the table. Lets his fingers rest on your knee when no one’s watching. Lets his shoulder bump yours when he sits beside you, like he can’t stand the inch of air between your bodies.

Because he can’t.

But he still doesn’t kiss you.

Not yet.

Not until you look at him like you know.

Not until he’s brave enough to say the thing he’s never said

“It’s always been you.”

⸻

(Readers POV)

It starts with a glance.

You’re in the corridor, laughing with Marlene, and James is passing by. He looks over his shoulder like he always does, like he’s checking you’re still there. Like he can’t help it.

But then Lily catches up to him and links their arms.

He doesn’t look back.

You laugh a little too loud after that.

Marlene notices. She doesn’t say anything.

⸻

Later that night, you’re curled in a chair by the fire, pretending to read. James flops beside you with a sigh and that familiar look — one part affection, one part restlessness.

“Evans thinks I’ve been distant,” he says.

You don’t look up. “Have you?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe.”

You flip a page. You haven’t read a single sentence.

“Do you want to be with her?” you ask, and it sounds calm, but your knuckles are white on the book spine.

James hesitates. “I thought I did.”

You nod, like it doesn’t cost you anything. “Well. Let me know when you figure it out.”

You stand.

He grabs your wrist.

“Wait—what does that mean?”

You don’t answer. You just look at him — really look — and see it: the confusion, the fear, the same ache you’ve been carrying all year.

“You don’t get to hover near me forever, James,” you whisper. “You don’t get to want me halfway.”

Then you walk away.

⸻

( James’s POV )

She’s pulling away. He can feel it.

Not all at once — no, that would be easier. But piece by piece. The long looks become quick glances. The silence between them stops feeling comfortable.

He misses her in the small ways first.

Misses how she always passed him a sugar quill when he fidgeted. How she said “you’re fine” every time he doubted himself — not in the loud, Gryffindor way everyone else did, but in a quiet, real way that actually worked.

He misses her voice.

He misses her attention.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Because saying something makes it real. And if it’s real, it can break.

⸻

Sirius elbows him one day in the courtyard. “You’re brooding. Stop.”

“I’m not brooding,” James mutters, lying badly.

“You look like you’ve just been dumped.”

James doesn’t reply.

Sirius raises a brow. “Wait—did you? Did you and Y/N—?”

“There was no me and Y/N,” James snaps.

But the words taste wrong in his mouth.

Because maybe there was. Just in a way he never had the guts to name.

⸻

That night, he finds her by the lake.

She doesn’t look surprised.

“I figured you’d show up eventually,” she says.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Can we talk?”

She stays silent.

“Only if you stop pretending you don’t know how I feel.”

James stares.

“I’ve loved you since fifth year,” she says flatly. “And I’ve waited. And waited. And you’ve spent every second dancing around it like it might ruin your perfect little world if you say something real.”

James feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him.

“I never wanted to ruin what we have,” he says.

“Well, you did anyway,” she says. “Congratulations.”

He steps closer. “That’s not fair.”

“No?” Her voice cracks. “You don’t get to hold my hand like it means something and then tell people you’re not sure how you feel.”

James opens his mouth. Closes it.

“I wanted you to say something first,” she says quietly. “Just once. I wanted it to be you.”

Silence.

Then James says, hoarse, “I think about kissing you every time I’m near you.”

She goes still.

“I think about how you smell like cinnamon and ink, and how you laugh when you think no one’s listening, and how I started waiting for you at breakfast even when I wasn’t sure why.”

He exhales. “I’ve been in love with you so quietly for so long I didn’t even realize it until I thought I lost you.”

She swallows. “Then why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I’m terrified,” he says. “But I’m more terrified of never trying.”

A painfully long pause.

Then, finally, she whispers, “Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it. Like you mean it.”

He steps forward. Takes her face in both hands.

I’m in love with you,” James says. “Not just in the way people say it. I mean in the way where you’re the first person I look for in every room. The one I can’t stop thinking about, even when I’m trying not to.

Then he kisses her.

And she kisses him back.

It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s everything they’ve held back for years pouring out all at once.

It tastes like relief. Like maybe they were always heading here.

Like they were always going to break just to fall into each other.

leave recommendations in my inbox and check out my masterlist .ᐟ

a/n: i wrote this a 6 in the morning…i am running on fumes

tags: @lydiascabinsix @lydiasfalling @laufeysvalentine

#james potter x self insert #james & peter & remus & sirius #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter x oc #james potter #james #james fleamont potter #maraduersera #maraduers #maraders era #the maraunders map #marauders #cowboylikemac #mac talks .ᐟ

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girly-girlk · 1 day ago

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Ok so Reader and Drew break things off, but she’s still really pregnant and goes into labor and he’s basically just an asshole the whole time

alone

drew starkey x pregnant!reader

summary: you and drew break up and you call him when your water breaks

a/n: so sorry that this one took a while, i’ve been super busy! hope you like it!!💕

you hadn’t seen drew in weeks.

not since the fight. not since the words that shattered whatever fragile peace you both were holding on to.

“you’re exhausting, you know that? it’s like this baby has made you impossible to be around.”

“then go. i’m not stopping you.”

“fine.”

and he did. no calls. no texts. not even a word from his friends.

you’d cried until your eyes felt hollow, until the baby kicked as if telling you to stop. so you did. for them.

now, at 37 weeks pregnant, your body was sore and swollen, and the last thing you expected at 2:14 a.m. was to wake up to a sudden, warm gush of fluid and a stabbing cramp that made you double over.

you were alone. terrified. but not stupid.

you called drew.

not because you forgave him. not because he deserved it.

because he was the father, and some small, stubborn part of you hoped—hoped—he’d be different when it really mattered.

the line rang once. then twice.

“yeah?” his voice was tired. irritated.

you inhaled shakily. “my water broke.”

silence. then: “okay… and?”

“and i’m alone,” you said, trying to keep the panic from your voice. “i don’t—i don’t want to do this by myself.”

more silence. a sharp breath from him. “jesus, okay. calm down. i’ll come get you.”

⸻

he showed up twenty minutes later, shirt wrinkled, eyes bloodshot. no urgency. no warmth.

“get in,” he said flatly, barely looking at you as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat, clutching your belly.

in the car, he didn’t say much. just kept tapping his fingers against the steering wheel like this whole thing was a chore.

“could you not do that?” you muttered through a contraction.

“what?” he snapped.

“tap. you’re making me anxious.”

he rolled his eyes. “everything makes you anxious lately.”

you looked away, biting the inside of your cheek so you wouldn’t cry.

⸻

at the hospital, the nurses were kind. you tried to focus on them, not on drew sitting in the corner on his phone, not offering your hand, not asking how you were doing.

when the pain grew worse, you whimpered through a contraction, reaching out blindly. drew didn’t move.

“could you—can you just hold my hand?” you asked, voice shaking.

he sighed. loudly. “you wanted me gone, remember?”

tears slid down your cheeks. “this isn’t about us.”

“it’s always about you,” he muttered.

one of the nurses gave him a sharp look. “maybe you should wait in the hall if you’re going to stress her out.”

he scoffed. “whatever.”

you watched him leave, a mix of pain and numbness filling the hollow part of your chest.

you didn’t want to need him. you didn’t want to miss him. but right now, it was just you, and your baby, and the breaking point of everything you’d once thought you’d have.

⸻

when the baby finally came—after hours of pain, sweat, and screaming—drew wasn’t there.

he missed the birth.

a nurse handed you your baby, and you cried harder than you ever had in your life. because despite everything, this little human was yours.

and in that moment, you didn’t need him.

not anymore.

#drew starkey angst #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x reader

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noctiva · 1 day ago

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okay but how would the guys react to the reader breaking up with them?

aha! the flip side!

Toby: Goes through four stages of grief in the span of like, ten minutes. everything except for acceptance. he won’t ever truly accept it. it could be literal years later and he’d still be dreaming of you, still touching himself to the thought of you.

the day it actually happens, he’ll try to play it off at first. hit you with a ‘th-that’s not fuckin’ funny’ with a soft snort and a roll of his eyes. like you being serious wasn’t even an option. but of course, you’ll insist - and that’s when the dam breaks.

first comes the anger. his eyes sharpening into a glare as his jaw sets. accusatory in every word he spits at you. throwing every single thing that he’s every done for you back in your face. glossing over everything he’s ever done wrong. hoping that maybe you’ll fight back - maybe you two can just get into another fight like you always do, and end up tangled up together in his sheets by the time night falls.

but that doesn’t happen. you just take it. just listen silently as you pack your things - already detached. and that’s when it really sets in. the anger will simmer, and then he’s apologizing profusely. offering up things he can’t even give you, all in the hopes of changing your mind. and when that doesn’t work? he just breaks. a mess of ugly sobs and hands trying to pull you to him. pleading. begging. borderline grovelling at your feet.

you’ll leave him a mess of tears. he probably won’t move from his spot on the floor for hours. days maybe.

- “W-What do you want? What can I d-do to make you stay? Just name it - I’ll g-give it to you.”

Jack: Just so incredibly cold. Like the moment you utter the words, every ounce of affection he held for you fizzled into smoke. You can practically see it when the switch in his brain flips, how his entire body tenses up, how his lips set into a firm line. He won’t say anything for a good long while. He’ll just stand before you, waiting, like he’s giving you a chance to take it back.

‘Jack? Did you hear what I said?’ To which he’ll just reply with a snippy; ‘I heard you.’ And barely elaborate further.

He won’t let you in. Won’t let you pry into his mind in an attempt to figure out how he feels about all of it. He’ll keep it all locked far deep down, under a shroud of bitter nonchalance. If you didn’t know him better, you’d almost think he didn’t care - but the slight tremble in his fingers proves that otherwise.

He won’t fight you. He knows better than that. Though he loved you to the ends of the earth, he knew he wouldn’t be able to continue on with you after this. Knowing that you don’t wholeheartedly want to be with him.

He’ll leave silently. Give you short, simple answers to every question you ask. Leave you second guessing if this was even the right decision at all.

- “What? Did you want me to scream? Beg? Cry? I’m not giving you that satisfaction.”

Brian: Horribly toxic. Blackmail supreme over here. You sit him down, tell him you want to break up with him, and the first thing he’s saying is, ‘are you sure you want to do that? with all the shit I have on you?’

And you know he’s right. He has drawers full of tapes depicting you in the most compromising positions known to man. Taken with the promise that they’d only be for his eyes. But, that was on the basis that you’d stick around. He’ll be patronizing, cruel, dangling this threat over your head with a raised eyebrow - daring you to have the guts to still go through with it.

Promising you that no one else will ever want to be with you after him. A little too calm, a little too composed. Like he’s so sure deep down that you’ll cave under the weight of what he’s saying and just roll over.

But if you don’t? If you hold your ground? You can just barely see him crack. A little twitch in his jaw, his gaze hardening over. The way his eyes flick away from you like he just can’t the sight of you any longer. He’ll freeze over until you gain the courage to pack up and leave. All that confidence lost, swapped for a silent resignation.

Won’t say a single thing to you on your way out the door.

(And he probably won’t actually make true on his threats, he was just really banking on that working).

- “Fine. Leave. See where it gets you.”

Tim: Just resigned acceptance. He saw it coming from the start, never really expecting you two to be in it for the long haul. He hoped that maybe you’d go against the odds, but he was smarter than to bank on that. Your life didn’t mix with his. He took a risk letting you in. He had set himself up, and he knew it.

It’s his shoulders slumping. His expression dropping. The slight quiver when he lets out a deep sigh and lets his eyes flutter closed for a moment like he’s trying to shut it all out. He doesn’t ask why, because he knows why. It’s everything about him. And he’d rather spare himself the burden of hearing that fact come from your lips.

He’ll be silent for a good long while. Reach into his coat pocket with trembling fingers, pull out his pack of smokes, light one and take a few drags before he speaks a word. And when he does, it’s just all apologies.

Apologies for dragging you into this in the first place. Apologies for wasting your time. For getting your hopes up. For making you believe that you could be the cure for everything that plagues him.

He won’t look at you the entire time, because he just knows he’ll break - and he doesn’t want to burden you with that too.

- “‘Bout time you smartened up. Always knew you deserved someone better.”

Cody: Really doesn’t know how to handle it - and maybe that was the issue all along. His good with the physical aspect of humans. The blood, the flesh, the chemical reactions. What he’s not good at, is the mind. The emotions. The inner workings of relationships, and person to person connection. He really tried with you, broke out of his shell in an attempt to let you have that closeness you craved.

It feels like an insult to have it thrown back in his face. He’s not upset, he’s offended, a silently brewing anger simmering in his veins with every word you speak. It just feels like he wasted so much time. Put in so much effort into something that ultimately proved fruitless. Like a failed experiment, but this time it affects him deeply. Like you were taking one of his limbs with you when you left him.

Asks you so many questions it makes your head spin. Why are you leaving him? What specific thing did he do? What could he have done better? Do you really truly believe there’s nothing that can fix this? Why are you giving up? Why don’t you want to try?

He’ll let you leave. He won’t beg and plead, but he will borderline interrogate you before he stalks back to his lab and shuts himself in there for the next week and a half.

- “All that time wasted. Such a needless distraction.”

Habit: Laughs in your fucking face. Cruel and mocking. Near doubles over with it. The type of laughter that absolutely stuns you, with the way he wheezes and cackles, wipes a tear from his eye and shakes his head like you’ve just performed a comedy special for him.

To him, you have. Because that’s fucking rich. You leaving him? As if you had that choice. It’s comical to him how you’d even entertain that thought, that you thought it might just be as easy as showing him the door and expecting him to walk through it. It’s not happening. Not by a long shot.

In fact, when you call him cruel, he’ll show you just exactly how cruel you can be. You hate him now? Let’s see how much you hate him when he chains you to the bed and leaves you there. Chuckling under his breath about how stupid you are. How you should’ve just kept your mouth shut, and appreciated the fact that he was being easy on you this whole time.

So, no. You will not be breaking up with him. This relationship ends on his terms, and his terms only.

- “That’s cute. You think you get to make that choice?”

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st4rlvr · 19 hours ago

Text

stray kids as your situationship headcanons

(hyung line!)

Bang Chan — the “we’re just close” one

-he calls you “love” with his whole chest. touches your waist when he moves past you. offers you his hoodie when you’re cold — and then helps you put it on.

- he never calls you his girlfriend, but God forbid anyone else flirts with you.

“you’re with me tonight, right?” he asks, like it’s obvious.

and it always is.

-he’ll cuddle you on the couch, rub your back, kiss your forehead — then pull away just before it gets real.

“you know i care about you, right?”

you ask what that means.

he says, “don’t overthink it.”

-the worst part? he texts just enough to keep your hopes up.

then disappears.

and then calls you at 2am whispering, “missed you.”

Lee Know — the hot and cold one

- he flirts like a menace. bites his lip when he looks at you. calls you “baby” like he invented the word.

then ignores your texts for an entire weekend.

comes back like nothing happened.

- “thought of you today.”

you ask when.

“when i saw a cat being rude. it reminded me of you.”

then he sends a heart.

- kisses you once at a party, then acts normal like he didn’t ruin your whole night.

“we’re just having fun, right?” he says, even though he gets weirdly quiet when you mention other guys.

- when you try to distance yourself, he suddenly gets real soft.

shows up with your favorite snack. tugs you into his lap.

“you don’t really wanna stop talking to me, do you?”

Changbin — the “accidentally in love” one

- it started so casual. just friends. you said that a lot. “we’re just friends.”

but now he looks at you like you hung the moon and you catch yourself reaching for his hand without thinking.

- he calls you “cutie” while you steal his hoodies. says “i missed you” every time you see him — even if it’s only been a day.

acts chill, but gets pouty if you sit too far away.

- once, he got high and confessed like three things at once.

“you’re my comfort person. i think about you every night. you’re so pretty it hurts.”

and then laughed like he didn’t just wreck your life.

- he doesn’t push. doesn’t pressure. but the way he touches your thigh, the way he talks to you like you’re already his…

you know he’s all in.

you’re the one who’s scared to say it out loud.

Hyunjin — the bratty situationship you can’t quit

- he’s the worst. and the best. and he knows it.

texts you “what are you doing” and “i’m so bored:(“ at the same time

- sends you mirror selfies looking criminally hot with the caption:

“this outfit’s missing something. maybe you.”

-pouts when you tease him. acts all dramatic.

“you don’t love me. you’re so mean to me.”

then says “come here” and kisses your jaw like you’re his.

- gives you whiplash. one second he’s telling you you’re his muse, the next he’s ignoring your text for six hours because you took too long to reply.

but if you post a thirst trap?

he’s in your DMs in 0.3 seconds:

“delete that. or come over.”

- once called you his soulmate, then immediately said “but like, not in a weird way.”

you wanted to kill him.

and kiss him.

and kill him again.

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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 1 day ago

Text

L Lawliet x Reader: how L handles pregnancy

Wrote this because I need fluff! Enjoy!

Lets get one thing straight, L would never expect himself to be a father

He's too busy

He's too closed off

He's too much of a target

But, on the other hand, he thought the same exact things about dating before he met you

And all you've done is bring him more joy and peace than he's ever experienced

On the other other hand, babies were entirely different

He couldn't find himself growing attached to a clump of cells, or a screaming raisin with hands

They were a lot of work, and while he had plenty of free time when he wasn't working, when he was he had to be able to devote himself to it completely

They also were loud, and smelly, and entirely uninteresting

But...you did want one very badly. He's not stupid, he can see how you look at toddlers on the street, or ads for baby bottles, or women pushing strollers

It was something you gave up in silence when you committed yourself to him, along with things such as weddings, and settling in one spot, and seeing your family often

All of that to say, his narrow success with the kira case has given him much to think about considering what he wants, what you want, and the value of his own life

He could have died

He could have died.

And what would you be left with? He didn't give you very many options, he's accidently turned you into quite the dependant person

it was the day he sentenced Light Yagami and all of his accomplices to death that he set up a will concerning everything to do with you, essentially setting you up for life. You don't know about this.

Weeks later, something that almost seems like fate strikes. You come to him, nervous, holding a pregnancy test.

You didn't want to alarm him, but your period was late, and most recently you've been experiencing morning sickness.

Turns out you're pregnant, about 4 weeks given the symptoms.

Now, you were standing in the doorway of the bathroom, test in hand, wide-eyed. He can't tell what it is, fear or excitement, or a mix of the two, but you're looking to him for solutions

"L...look..."

"What do I do?"

It's the first time he's been at a true loss for words.

It was a very good question.

What do you do?

"What would you like to do?"

He knew it wasn't that simple, but it would be nice to know your thoughts

"I...I don't know..."

"Would you..." he almost didn't want to ask

"Would you like to keep it?"

And then you were crying

it took quite a while to calm you down

But after a good, long talk, it was decided

You would keep the child

He doesn't know why he agreed or offered

He doesn't find himself to be good with kids

Maybe it was because he wanted something other than cases to do

Maybe it was because he wanted you to be happy

Either way, it wasn't a particularly good reason

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have agreed so easily

no matter what, he was now determined to at minimum be well-read

you found that within a week, he was bombarding you with facts and questions

"Did you know ginger tea is extremely helpful with nausea? Would you like to try it?"

"The fetus should be about the size of a grain of rice, if we've calculated correctly."

"Are you feeling any tenderness around your breasts, or any mood swings?"

by the second month, he's asking questions you couldn't possibly answer

"How often did your mother pump breast milk? It would be useful to know about any aunts or cousins as well."

"They say a woman's intuition is the best tell of a baby's gender. I'm not one for superstition, but...do you have any feeling one way or the other?"

"It should be about the size of a raspberry by now."

As endearing as it was, his excitement could get a little tiring, especially when these questions were asked at 12 in the morning

That said, he more than made up for it with his patience

every time you rushed to the bathroom to throw up, he was padding after you to hold your hair and rub soothing circles across your back

Every time you had the oddest, frankly disgusting cravings, he was there to bring you pickles wrapped in ham and pepper jack cheese, or fill the sink with dishsoap so you could obsess over the smell while you ate ice

every time you sobbed over the fact that the puppies in the adoption commercials were "too cute to live in a place like this," he was there to run his fingers through your hair and assure you that puppies don't understand social injustice

he, to his own surprise, enjoys watching your belly grow, and your body change to accommodate the life inside

He swears you're glowing

In his own head, of course

He's also keeps you on a very strict schedule

at least 9 hours of sleep, three meals a day, all with the proper vitamins and proteins to support your health

You swear he worries too much, which he quickly bites back with a cool, "many things can happen during pregnancy. We must keep our odds high."

he's made part of his routine resting his head on your stomach every night before bed, with the excuse that he enjoys your fingers on his scalp

To his surprise, about 4 months in, he feels something

Like a little push, tiny and right against his face

"Oh, the baby kicked," you cooed

"Fascinating..."

Ever since then, he's kept his hand or face on you any time you sit down

When the gender reveal comes, you don't have anyone to celebrate with, besides Watari

You decide to do a cake reveal just between you and L

"What do you want? A boy, or a girl?"

"I want a baby."

Typical of him

You let him do the slicing, and at the first peek of blue, you were already screaming

"It's a boy! L, its a boy! We're having a baby boy!"

L knows you well enough to know either sex would have the exact same reaction

Despite his indifference, the reveal does solidify how real it all is

He would have a son

His son, baking inside of you, right now

It's jarring to think about

months later, 5 to be exact, L was rather nervous

"Do birth defects run in your family?"

"C-sections?"

"Have you been hydrating properly?"

You have to reassure him every time that things will be okay

It's best to distract him with questions of your own

"Do you think he'll have your eyes?"

"What should we name him?"

"I bet he'll be just as curious as you are."

The night your contractions start is the night he finally gets to put everything he learned to use

He and watari take you to the nearest hospital, go-bag and carseat already loaded, all while you pant and moan about the pain

Getting you settled in the hospital was the easiest part, luckily they had an available room

The hard part was watching someone he loved go through so much pain

The total time you spent in labor was 12 hours

L held your hand all the way through, even if he's sure you probably broke one of his fingers

"I read breathing slowly is helpful with-"

"SHUT UP, I'M PUSHING A GODDAMN WATERMELON OUT OF MY CUNT"

Needless to say, you didn't really care about facts while in active labor

When the baby finally escaped, L made sure he was handed to you as soon as possible, after all skin to skin contact is highly important for bonding

It was covered in blood and gunk and all other things, by any objective view it was utterly disgusting

But the moment it was cradled against your chest, all wrinkled and small and helpless...

He felt overwhelmed with more love than he's ever felt before

Pure, unending love

Somehow, there was a creature on this earth he loved more than you

When it was finally time for the baby to be taken for cleaning and check-up, he only sat beside you, still holding your hand, quietly waiting for his son to return

"L...we have a baby..."

"We do."

"How do you feel?"

"...answer the damn question, I just gave birth."

"I'm worried for the future. But hopeful, as well."

When the baby finally returns, and he's offered the chance to hold him, he panics, just a little

What if he drops him?

He has to support the head

Remember to support the head

And the body as well

And don't hold him too tight

Or too loose

It isn't until he's actually in his arms that L can relax

Just a tiny thing, with a mess of black hair at the top of his coconut head

And when his son opens his big, black eyes?

L will do anything and everything for this child

For his son

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fuctacles · 3 days ago

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The chamomile is still slightly warm when Eddie gets back to it. Steve's legs cross over his lap and he feels not only allowed but expected to put his hand there and play with the coarse hair of his thigh. The body heat is a little too much for comfort, but it's a small price to pay to be close like this.

"What are you telling Robin?" Eddie asks, because it's the easier way to talk about their current status, or the nearest future of it.

He observes closely how Steve's mouth twists with distaste.

"Uh, preferably nothing, but I know she'll find out sooner than later. She's been insufferable about it since forever."

Eddie raises his eyebrows curiously.

"What does 'forever' mean?"

"Uh..." Steve looks away immediately.

"Steve," he chastises him, putting more pressure into his fingers to dig them into the flesh of his thigh. Steve's evasive gaze snaps back to his hand.

"Forever," he repeats. "As soon as I could focus on anything other than killing Vecna, probably. Maybe earlier," he admits.

Eddie blinks at him. He keeps staring as his brain supplies him with all the instances of Steve being close, leaning in for monster-fighting camaraderie, which apparently might have been more than that. And later befriending him as a dog. He frowns.

"Were you dog-stalking me because you were into me?" he asks, feigning offence but both curious and amused at the idea.

"No...no!" Steve protests immediately but by the flush blooming on his cheeks, Eddie knows there's more to it.

"You did!" he gasps. "You little creep!" Eddie swats at his thigh. "And they call me a freak! I probably undressed in front of you, didn't I?" No matter how hard he thinks about it, he can't remember, but since he thought Steve was just a regular dog at that time, why wouldn't he? It's not like it's indecent to change your shirt in front of a pet.

"I didn't look," Steve murmured defensively, proving further that it had happened.

"You also didn't stop me!"

"How?" Steve frowns at him. "How would I stop you without exposing myself?" Then, he swiftly slaps his palm over Eddie's mouth.

"Don't," he warns.

"Hmph?"

"You were going to make a joke about 'exposing myself'." Steve gives him a flat stare.

Eddie's eyes crinkle with mirth. He shrugs.

"D-h."

Steve sighs and removes his hand, but not before wiping it on Eddie's shirt. Then he settles back into his previous position.

"It was Dustin's idea, anyway."

Eddie widens his eyes at him, baffled.

"To creep on me?!"

"No!" It's Steve's turn to swat at him, now getting mildly annoyed. "He comes to me one day, all smirking like the little bastard that he is, and tells me you like dogs, and that I should go tell you. Because he wants us to be friends so badly, and a Steve-dog would be a great ice-breaker," he huffs.

"And your take from this was to shapeshift and start following me," Eddie deadpans.

"I wanted to ease you into it?" Steve offers weakly.

"But then you didn't want the scratches to stop," he teases.

"Well..." Steve's cheeks redden, and Eddie laughs.

"It's okay, water under the bridge," he reassures him with a gentle nudge. "We're in a good place now, right?"

"Right." Steve smiles, happily wiggling his butt in the space between Eddie's legs and the back of the couch. "What do you want for dinner?" he asks, taking a glance at the clock on the wall.

"It's a bit late for a date, don't you think?"

"Huh?"

Eddie raises his hand, wiggling his fingers to remind him of their earlier activities.

"You already ate my cum, you don't need to wine and dine me," he says with a grin.

Steve gapes at him for a moment, the blush he just managed to tamp down, coming back. But he finds it in himself to school his features into a charming smile. He reaches down to wrap his hand over the meat of Eddie's thigh, pull him just a bit closer.

"On the contrary. There's still many bases to cover."

"Ohjesus," Eddie breathes out, turning pink himself.

"And we can totally have a date today if you want. Wanna go out or stay in?" Steve cocks his head, relishing in having the upper hand again, tapping into what he knows.

"I, uh, inside, I guess?"

Steve nods, utterly pleased with the effect he has on him.

"More privacy, smart. Should we order in or cook?"

"Uh, we already cooked yesterday?" Eddie offers, feeling a little uprooted. He's never been on a date before, not even an indoor one.

"True, we can have a lazy day today." Steve smiles, squeezing his thigh. The boy jumps slightly under his hand. "I'm gonna go grab the menus, hold this for me?"

He hands him his almost empty coffee mug and leaves the comfy groove he's made himself between Eddie's body and couch cushions. Eddie grunts as he balances off of him.

"Thanks." Steve hesitates as he takes back the mug, but makes up his mind quickly and leans down to give him a peck on the lips. Eddie might have been unprepared, but catches on quickly, angling his face to lock their lips together. The parting takes a little longer than planned, but none of them seem to mind. "I'll be right back," Steve reminds him with a smile, pulling apart with a wet smack.

Eddie licks his lips.

"You better."

"Kitchen is literally right around the corner!" Steve points out, almost there already.

It takes them longer than usual to decide on the order anyway, because they can't stop making out once that seal is broken, that blanket permission that yes, you can have at it whenever, I want to kiss you too. Eddie thinks it's going to be a great date no matter what they will get anyway.

But once his mouth is busy with something other than Steve, he remembers the question that's been evaded later.

"So..." he clicks his tongue while shoveling fried rice onto his fork. "This is a date."

Steve blinks up at him, slurping in his noodles with a wet sound that makes him snort. He presses his foot into Eddie's shin while he chews, and then clears his throat.

"Yes. And?" he cocks his head. They are sitting on the floor at the coffee table, facing each other, with plates of Chinese food between them.

"Does that mean we're dating?" Eddie focuses on his plate, hoping he won't come off as stupid or naïve if he isn't looking. "I'm not familiar with the rituals."

Steve lets out an amused huff.

"I guess so. But it can mean whatever you want. No pressure."

When he looks up, it's Steve staring into his plate.

"I don't feel pressured. But I'm not sure what I want," he admits. "Like, I just figured out this is something I might want, and I don't have a huge frame of reference. You'd probably have to guide me a bit."

Steve looks up.

"I don't mind that," he gives him a small, shy smile. "We can figure it out as we go."

"Cool."

They smile at each other, goofy and happy, and resume their dinner. Until Eddie grins widely, giggling to himself.

"What?" Steve raises his eyebrow, wary of whatever is happening in his... date's brain.

"I'm dating a werewolf! How cool is that?"

Steve shakes his head fondly and doesn't correct him.

That's a wrap on the main story but I might write some extras for this AU.

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot @dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1 @stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible @bumblebeecuttlefishes @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @n33dlew0rk @manliest-of-muppets @ravenfrog @dreamercec @tartarusknight @dauntlessdiva @eyehartart @ellietheasexylibrarian @im-sam-fucking-winchester

#steddie #wereshifter au #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #mine #steddie fanfiction #werewolf steve harrington #shapeshifter steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie au

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