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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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So I

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

There’s a knock at the door. You huff as you don’t need to look through the peep hole to know who it is. No buzzer but he always finds a way.

You pick up your phone and open the chat, ‘told you I’m tired.’

The little check mark flicks down. Read. No reply comes, only another knock on the door.

‘Long day.’ You send another message.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“You really want me to knock the door down?” Bucky chuckles through the wood.

You inhale and roll yourself off the couch. You drop the phone on the square end table as you pass and drag your feet to the door. You lean on the inside and yawn as loudly as you can.

“It’s after curfew,” you jeer. He wiggles the handle. “Go home.”

“You’re gonna leave me out here like a stray cat? Come on. I came all the way down here,” he pleads.

You turn your back to the door and shrug, “told you not to. Besides, not all of us have a soft spot for alley cats.”

“Alpine is not an ally cat. Come on, I brought beer.”

You scoff, “thought that piss didn’t do anything for ya?”

“No, but it makes you a lot of fun.”

You huff and push off the door. You turn and slide back the chain. You flip the lock back and open up. You arch a brow at your uninvited guested.

“Thank you,” you trill and grab the six pack from him. He catches the door before you can swing it shut. He tuts and steps forward, pushing his elbow into the wood until you let it go.

“Don’t play games. You know, I can tell when you’re in need of a good fucking. You don’t send any emojis.” He snaps the door shut behind him as you retreat with your prize.

“Or maybe I was trying to get you to stop texting so I could enjoy my new toy in peace. Ever think of that. Sometimes It's about efficiency, not passion.”

“Passion?” He scoffs as leans a hand on the wall and lifts a foot to undo his boot.

“Probably not the right word for this,” you free a can from the plastic rings and shove the rest in the fridge.

“You and your goddamn toys. Let me guess, this one has blue tooth.”

“Does yours?” You strut out of the kitchen and flick his arm in passing.

“No but it’s got all the features you need and you know it.” He taps your ass before you can elude him.

You crack the can of beer and take a deep gulp. The TV continues to blare the reality show retrospective you’ve been feeding your time to. You flop on the couch and sigh. You suck down the grainy brew and swallow a gulp before it can escape your throat.

Bucky looms behind the couch and grips the back. He leans over you. “How many of those until those hideous pajamas come off?”

“Ha? What? You don’t wanna fuck me in my Spongebob jammies? They’re vintage.”

He snorts, “you really are good a killing the mood, aren’t you?”

“You’re a real Squidward sometimes, you know that?” You slurp another mouthful.

“I have no idea what that is,” he says flatly as he tickles along your shoulder.

You hate it. You hate him. Just a touch and you’re ready to go. Minutes ago, you were ready to pass out but now you’re wide awake. And fucking horny.

“BPM going up, body temperature rising,” he runs his vibranium knuckles along your cheek and you wince away from him.

“I hate when you do that.” You pull away and stand, plunking down the can. You huff and peel off your tank top. “I have an interview for a promotion tomorrow so hurry up.”

“Romantic? Do you still wanna use the new toy? You know I don’t mind filling your mouth when you get like this.”

You stick your tongue out at him and point to the bedroom. He rolls his eyes and strides off. You pause the television and take another swig of beer. You need to sleep and he’s good at fucking you into a coma.

As you reach the bedroom, he’s already naked. His broad shoulders are etched in scars, the left one mottled with aged burns along the border of vibranium. His muscles cord down along his rib cage and sides.

A year ago, you would never expect a man like this to be standing naked in your bedroom. A super soldier. Bucky Barnes.

He turns to you and wiggles the little square between his two fingers. The wrapped condom reflects the overhead light with its flashy packaging. He flexes his chest as you reach to undo your bra.

“Should I pop it on now or can I get a taste first?” He asks with a flick of his tongue.

You march to him and swipe the condom from his grasp. You jab his chest and he staggers back to the bed, his legs pressing against the frame. He teeters as he smirks down at you.

“I’ll give you a ride, cowboy.”

He falls back and spreads his arms wide. The bed squeaks beneath his weight. You push down your pajama pants and climb over him. You toss the mattress to the top of the bed as you raise yourself on your knees, hovering over his head as his thick hair fans out beneath.

He turns to graze his beard against your thigh. You purr and lower yourself to smother him in your cunt. He hums and laps at you eagerly.

Mmm. This is exactly the stress relief you need.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #winter soldier #captain america #so i #marvel #mcu #avengers

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deathbecomesthem · 2 months

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Basement Apartment - Part 1 of 2

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - 4.8K

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

Summary - It's 2001, and you've just moved into this new basement apartment. It's not so bad, except for the neighbor directly above your bedroom.

Contains a mean reader (kinda). Both parts have their smutty stuff, but part 2 will go a lot harder. Reader is bisexual. This is kind of an enemies to lovers deal. Sorta. Alcohol. Use of derogatory language against Eddie.

A/N: Thank you @jo-harrington for loving this story, and thank you for editing this at a moment's notice. Love you forever.

---

No. No. No. Not again. It’s 2:07 on Wednesday morning, and it’s happening again. You know it’s going to be at least an hour, probably longer, before it’s quiet enough for you to sleep. You know the routine at this point. Different partners, but the play-by-play appears to be the same. You could set your clock by it at this point. You don’t begrudge your neighbor his fun, lord knows you like having a good time, but fucking hell - can he remember he’s in a building with thin walls and neighbors that have to wake up early for work in the morning?

The anger’s been building inside since that first night. Tonight, you’re pushed over the limit. His stamina is impressive. The knock, knock, knocking of the headboard against the outer wall of both of your bedrooms is a familiar sound that alone wouldn’t keep you up. It’s the moaning, the occasional *SLAP* that makes your eyes pop open. An unpleasant surprise scream of, “Daddy!” sets your teeth on edge. You can hear his rhythm falter at the word, and it makes you huff a laugh under your breath. She won’t be coming back tomorrow night. Must not be his thing - you try hard not to think about why you care, and still make the mental note. It’s not your thing either.

Your current thing is getting at least 6 consecutive hours of sleep when you have to wake up at 7:00 am and be able to function in the office. You’re absolutely done and ready to make a scene. It’s been almost a month in your new place, and it’s clear that Mr. Upstairs is not slowing down. Mary, your roomie, has been begging you to be cool, begging you to let it go, but her room isn’t directly beneath a fucking brothel. See, Mary has already met one of the guys in the apartment upstairs, and she’s smitten. “He’s tall, gorgeous green eyes, and his hair. Oh my god, his hair.” Oh, his hair, oh my god. Vomit. If you hear any more about this guy’s hair, you’re going to light it on fire. Plus, what if he’s the one that’s been fucking the entire city’s worth of girls right above your own bed? Mary refuses to believe it.

Your clock reads 3:30 when the noises stop, and you’re able to sleep. Your alarm is set for 6:30, giving you plenty of time to get ready for work and still have time to hike up the stairs and meet the dickhead of a neighbor. You have no idea what you expect him to do about his noise issue, but you’re sure as hell going to give him a piece of your mind. He can get his rocks off in his living room as long as you don’t have to listen to him saying, “oh, fuck. Your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum,” one more time. It’s the same script with every person he brings home. As you drift off, your brain scrolls through ideas - things you could do to make this man lose enough brain function to be able to form speech.

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

You shower. You brush your teeth. You fix your hair. You put on your (warpaint) makeup. You pour your coffee into a travel mug. You pack your briefcase. You feed the cat. You do all of your morning things while seething with anger. You make sure to keep it at the forefront of your mind. The fucking noises. You’re so tired, and your day hasn’t even started yet. You march your ass up the stairs in your heels and wool pencil skirt and knock. Loudly. You kept knocking. You aren’t leaving until you have some satisfaction. You check your watch. Shit. You start pounding.

You hear noises behind the door marked 2A, a grumbling. “Hold on!” An angry shout directed at the person pounding on the door. You. The door jerks open. Grey sweats, bare feet, bare chest, oh god the tattoos, long curly hair, and brown eyes. Not green. Not Mary’s guy. Mr. Brown Eyes is smiling at you, annoyance forgotten. “Good morning, Sweetheart. What can I help you with.”

Oh, no. It’s him. You scoff and frown. Your eyebrows are drawn together while you take in the sight of him in the new context. The grin spread across his full lips infuriates you, his charms are lost on you. Maybe it would work better if you weren’t currently surviving on less than 4 hours of sleep. You can feel heat creeping up your neck and down the line of your jaw.

“Hi, yeah. So, I live downstairs. You can absolutely do me a favor.” You smile at him with teeth, and he thinks his charms are working on you. He’s so wrong. That cocky bullshit never works with you. He returns your wide grin with one of his own. “I’m hoping that in the future you could take a moment to remember the fact that you have a neighbor downstairs that can hear you fucking the night away and keep it down.” His smile fathers - you go in for the kill, “Or at least maybe up your game. I’m getting really fucking tired of hearing the same shit with every girl you bring home.” You drop your voice to imitate his, “Oh, fuck. Your pussy’s so good, I’m gonna cum.”

You take a quick look at your watch while the half naked man in front of you flounders. His chest and neck are flushed red by the time you turn on your heel and stomp towards the back door of the building. You’re going to be late, you add it to the list of reasons to hate that fucking guy. Selfish dick.

You turn back to push open the door and call back, “Thanks so much, Daddy.”

–

The office is quiet when you let yourself in, but it doesn’t fool you. The stack of papers you left Friday afternoon are still waiting for you after you drop your lunch in the fridge and sit down. On cue, the phone rings, and you’re still pulling out a pen and legal pad when you answer it. Fucking Mondays. Everyone needs something from you, and you provide. It’s what you do. You think some day you’ll wake up empty, but it hasn’t happened yet.

You bite back a yawn and take a scalding gulp of the coffee from your Garfield mug. You hiss a little and wonder if there are scars on your esophagus from the acid and burning liquid. The taste of the weak Maxwell House brew is a reminder to get to work. No time to worry about the possible deterioration of your body, you put a rubber thimble on your thumb and get to the stack of mail sitting expectantly on the edge of your desk.

“Morning, Sunshine.” Mr. Misny comes through the door like a hurricane force wind, just like every morning. Even the smile he wears is meant to intimidate, but you know that and let it feed the anger inside. “What’s my morning look like?”

“Carrington and Hodges at 9:15,” you put your hand up to stop the protest you can see rising up your boss’s throat, “it was the only time they could both make it. You’ll have to eat your pastry while you talk about their case. I saved a couple of hours for brief writing before your early afternoon meetings.”

“Well, aren’t you a peach?” Mr. Misny’s comically expressive eyebrows shoot up and his lips curl with a smile that has an edge. “What would I do without you, hm?”

You’d hire someone else for less than they’re worth and condescendingly thank them while never actually respecting the hard work they perform.

“You’d probably be late for every meeting.” You answer coolly. You can’t help but add, “Checks speak louder than words, Tim.”

He laughs at your “joke” and heads into his office, shaking his head all the way. He won’t be laughing when you finally turn in your resignation letter, but that won’t be today. Today you need to do this job that pays measly wages so you can afford your shitty little apartment. Your shitty little apartment where you can only sleep a couple of nights a week because of the son of a bitch that lives upstairs.

But he’s gorgeous. You slam the stapler down on the stack of papers in front of you at the thought. He’s gorgeous, and it only makes you angrier to have that visual frame of reference when you hear his headboard knocking on your shared wall.

—

The day passes in front of you, and it’s not until your wristwatch chirps to remind you that it’s 4:30 that you realize you forgot to eat your lunch. Again. The alarm seems to have awoken your stomach, it growls angrily while you shove half finished work items into the drawers at your side and power down your word processing machine. When you leave your desk, it’s in perfect order, all the clutter is hidden away. Your inbox is empty, your outbox is half full, and your pens are all put away. You were able to spend several hours transcribing today, and your head was pounding from having to listen to your boss’s voice over the headset for so long. Your mood is, as it was this morning, on the very edge of quiet rage. Your car coughs to life, and you think it’s as annoyed as you are today. That seems appropriate.

The drive is easy and quiet, a small blessing, the icy patches on the road are covered with fresh salt that crunches under your tires. You can’t find it in yourself to be grateful for it, your mind too fogged over with hunger and exhaustion. You’re sleeping tonight, and it doesn’t matter if you have to knock your neighbor unconscious to achieve a quiet night.

Your luck runs out when you find the lock to the front of your apartment building frozen, and you lose your balance. You curse your impractical footwear and march angrily, and cautiously, to the back entrance and let yourself in. FInally. You scowl at apartment 1 and make your way down to the darker hallway where the laundry room, and your apartment, are located. There’s a brown paper bag taped to the door just under the number 2. There’s a note attached. You pull it down to read while you fiddle with your keys to unlock the last door between you and your refrigerator.

Pretty Neighbor Lady,

I’m so sorry we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe these will help with our little problem. Consider it a gift. Stop by any time, I’d love to see you again.

-Eddie in apartment 2

You don’t even wait until you get inside the apartment before you tear open the bag to see what could possibly be hiding inside. A small cardboard box that contains - are you fucking kidding me - foam earplugs. The same kind your father used to wear when he worked at the warehouse. You write the name “Eddie” at the top of your mental scorecard. “Eddie”, a real piece of work.

—

Merciful silence. That’s the only way to describe the way the rest of the week goes. You don’t hear a sound from the man that lives above you. You almost wonder if he’s unwell, but you’ve caught sight of him in the parking lot a couple of times and he seems perfectly fine. You hadn’t expected it to work, but you’re glad you confronted him when you did.

By the time Friday afternoon rolls around, you’re full of happy thoughts of napping with Henry, your orange tabby, before getting properly wasted and finding someone to pass the time with. It’s been too long, and you deserve this.

Your apartment is dark when you get home, no Mary to be found. Henry has already assumed his nap position in your bed. You scratch behind his ear, and he chirps in response. Sweet boy. The shirt you want to wear out tonight, a red deep v-neck sweater, is on the top of your dirty laundry pile. It’s a sign, so you grab the basket and make your way across the hall to the laundry room. You can sleep once you start a load, you’ll thank yourself later. Last minute, you decide to throw in the outfit you’re wearing, and slip into a tank top and shorts. Ridiculous choice for this time of year, but the basement stays nice and warm - actually uncomfortably warm most of the time - laundry room included.

You’re relieved to find the washer and dryer silent. You count it as a small win until you open the washer and find it full of wet clothes. You’re tempted to throw the clothes onto the counter beside you, but decide against it. No need to make enemies, or any more enemies, in the building. Fine, asshole. I’ll dry your clothes. You’re lucky you have 2 rolls of quarters on you. 50 cents is worth keeping the peace.

What you find in the washer are - 2 pairs of black jeans, several black button ups, a couple of band t-shirts, black boxers, and grey sweatpants. You should have known that this is the kind person he is - leaving his wet boxers in a communal washing machine with no thought about the person that would have to stick their hands in to fish them out. With delicate fingers, you pull out each article of clothing with the tips of your fingers, and you fling them into the open dryer. You’re not aware of the audible grumbling coming from your mouth while you do the unpleasant task.

“Well, howdy neighbor! You’re an absolute sweetheart for switching my laundry for me.” The voice from the entryway makes you jump. You immediately straighten your back and ignore him. You ignore the steps you hear moving, sauntering, towards you, and keep focused on the job at hand. “You should stop by tonight,” he’s much closer now, his low voice and heavy presence at your back, “your roommate’s upstairs with Stevie right now. We could all get to know each other, all friendly neighbors.”

You slam the top of the washing down and spin to face him. He’s directly behind you, close enough to smell him. Cologne - Brut maybe? - cigarette smoke, and faintly of weed. He stands over you like a tower, but you don’t step back. You hold his gaze and wait. You, in your too short shorts and paint speckled tank top wearing an armor of barely suppressed rage. He breaks eye contact to look at you. You watch his eyes widen at the sight of the tattoos. His lips twitch when he sees the barbells poking through the thin fabric of your shirt. All of these things are so well hidden under the blazers and dress pants Monday through Friday.

“I would really like to take you out for a drink,” Eddie’s eyes are locked on yours again, only this time he seems to have shrunk down a little. He seems smaller than he did just a moment ago. It stirs a strange feeling in your stomach that you ignore.

“Thanks so much for the offer, neighbor, but I have plans tonight. Please, get your shit out of the dryer when it’s done. I’d hate for you to find it all over the concrete if you forget.” You push past him, heading towards your apartment door and hear him groan behind you.

“Come on, Sweetheart. You need to loosen up, get that stick out of your ass. I bet I could help with that.”

You turn around and press your back against the metal door of your apartment and crook a finger at him. He’s so cocky, you’re thinking while the smile spreads across his lips and he makes his way closer to you, I’d love to bend him over my knee right here in this hallway.

“Come here.” You crook your finger at him. Eddie’s giving you a dopey smile as he sashays close, bringing his ear down closer to your mouth. He smells like shampoo and Irish Spring, clean with a hint of something - probably his skin - that makes you want to stick your tongue out and taste him. Instead, you rest your fingers at the base of his neck. You keep your tone soft, and put on the best sultry voice you can muster outside of a bedroom, “Don’t you worry about what’s up my ass, Sweetheart. I don’t let cocky little whores anywhere near it.”

Eddie is a statue. You’d think him made of stone if not for the quickening pulse you feel under your fingertips. You stand up on the balls of your feet to give yourself a couple extra inches, angling your mouth even closer to his ear, and whisper, “What about your ass, Baby?”

You give Eddie an exaggerated frown and push him away from you, moving the hand from his neck down to his chest. You leave him there, mouth open but no words coming from it, and slam your apartment door behind you. There’s a fire in your gut, and you need to remove yourself from the presence of that menace of a man before it begins to spread from under your skin and into the open.

You make a beeline straight for your bedroom. That fire continues to grow through your anger and irritation. How dare he? It’s not a thing you can control, the way your body reacts to the sight of him with those low slung grey sweatpants. The pretty curve of his lips. Those brown eyes. In your mind you can envision him here with you. His arms are stretched up high, wrists strung up to your headboard. He’s moaning at the sight of you with your little bullet vibrator placed firmly to ease your ache.

Except, the noises you’re hearing are not in your mind at this moment, they’re drifting down that open vent. You bite your lip and press the vibrator harder at the realization. The taste of coppery blood hits your tongue, you can’t let him hear you. He doesn’t deserve it. You listen to him cry out in pleasure, pretty noises that push you right to the edge of your own cliff. A soft whimper is what causes you to stumble. Your release is a flood, and you have to turn your face to let your own cries die in the safety of your pillow.

He’s loud, even when he’s fucking his own fist, and you’re done for. You’re biting your lip so hard, not wanting him to hear you. He doesn’t deserve it. He needs to earn it. Your teeth clamped so hard you taste blood by the time the pleasure is done rippling through your body. He’s still moaning like a bitch, and you fall asleep to the sound, only waking when your watch alerts you that it’s time to switch your laundry.

The washroom light is on, and your laundry is already tumbling in the dryer. Your sweaters, bras, and underwear are spread along the table in the corner to air dry. There’s a note sitting on the dryer 1A written on the outside.

I hope this makes your life easier,

Your cocky little whore,

Eddie

You close your eyes and imagine him holding your delicates in his hands, gently placing them flat to dry. This is bad, very bad.

—

Makeup first. Black eyeliner thick around your eyes, Mary always says it’s too much. She once introduced you as “her roommate that wears too much black eyeliner”, but it makes you feel so sexy. A red lip. You fish around your jewelry box to find your favorite choker and the cute bat earrings that were a gift from an ex-boyfriend. It’s been too long since you were able to dress this way - the way you like. Sheer black pantyhose, black boots, black mini skirt, and a red deep v sweater.

You’re going out, even if Mary stays in with Mr. Green Eyes and Mr. Grey Sweatpants - Eddie.

You’ll find someone tonight, maybe you’ll even bring them back here. It’s fun to imagine Eddie in his bed listening to the sounds of you and someone else. You imagine him reaching a hand under the waistband of his sweats. You think of him with his mouth hanging open while trying to hold back the sounds that you know like to escape while he’s touching himself. You clear your throat and shake the image out of your mind.

It was yesterday evening that you realized the heating vent in your room must lead directly up to his own room. It’s the only explanation for how clearly you can hear him. You could make him jealous if you really wanted. Jealous of you or your hypothetical partner. Man, woman…it doesn’t matter, and he wasn’t the only one that knew how to make a woman scream, although you prefer when they listen and keep quiet. It’s rude to be too loud when you live in an apartment building. You dick.

You make a detour to 2A to give Mary a chance to come with you before you head downtown. The guy that answers the door is a little taller than Eddie and very pretty. He’s wearing a polo shirt and tight jeans, his hair is so stupidly gorgeous. His eyes bug out a bit when he sees you at his door but recovers with a friendly smile. “Hey, I’m your neighbor in 1A, I was looking for- oh there she is.”

Mary is sitting on the couch with a beer in her hand, and she gives you a wave. “I’m so sorry, I lost track of time. Don’t be mad!” You shake your head and point your finger at your roommate. “You owe me. I take it I’m flying solo tonight?” Her eyes are squinting and she’s giving you a pained smile.

“I would say you could stay and hang out with us, but you look like you’re ready for more of a party than I can offer.” The guy, Stevie, you remember Eddie calling him that, is giving you a genuine smile. You’re returning it with ease, because he really does seem like a nice guy. “Yeah, next time? Have fun you two.” You’re wearing your best smile so they know there’s no hard feelings and head out into the night.

The walk is chilly, but your building is only a half a mile from the bars downtown. It was one of the reasons you were willing to move into the shitty basement apartment. That and the easy access to the laundry room. Your purse has the essentials. Wallet, mace, lipstick, condoms, collapsible baton, and camels. Your keys sit on your hip attached to your wallet chain. You know there would be at least a couple of bars that had bands playing tonight. Musicians are reliably horny, even though most of the time you end up regretting letting them into your bed.

The bright lights in the first bar, along with the house music, are an absolute no for you. You walk in, look around the room, and immediately head back out. The next bar has pool tables lined up in the back room. Lots of dudes turn to look at you when you enter, and you grip the handle of your purse. Leers sweeping from your hair to your boots. You smoothly turn and leave before anyone can talk to you. Bar number 3, however, is smokey and you can hear someone performing a mic check. A mix of leather clad men, women, and everything in between. The bartender has a flannel tied around her waist and an undercut. Winner.

“Hey sweetie, what can I get for you.” The bartender is very pretty up close, and openly scanning your chest. You’re giving her a wolfish grin and looking up to the ceiling with a finger on your lips, as if thinking hard.

“Oh, I think I’d like a double Jameson straight up.” You blink your eyes at her and she’s laughing at your antics while she gets your drink. “What can you tell me about the band tonight?”

“Metal. The guys play here pretty often. Corroded Coffin. The crowd is pretty fun, even if you’re not into the music.” Definitely not your typical scene, but you like this place, and you’re willing to let the music work magic on the crowd.

You’re reaching into your wallet for a card to hand over to start a tab. You’re thinking about suggesting the bartender keep you in mind at the end of the night, you’re sure she’d be up for passing some time with you, when you feel a familiar presence at your side.

“Jeannie, how are you tonight?” A hand is on your own, halting its movement. You know this voice. Are you kidding me? “Whatever this pretty lady wants is on our tab tonight, ok?” Jeannie’s eyebrows are high enough that they’re almost lost in her microbangs. She looks to you for confirmation, and you shake your head.

“She’s saying no, Ed.” Jeannie shrugs a little and accepts your card. “Shocking, I know.” She’s laughing at him a little, and you’re loving it. His eyes finally find your own, and he’s frowning. Sad puppy eyes. They sparkle. An effective weapon.

“Come on, you gotta give me something here. You’re killing me.” Eddie sounds genuinely pained. Butterflies beat their wings in your gut at the thought of disappointing him.

“Oh, Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m paying for myself tonight.” You place your hand on his neck and pull him close to your face while his eyes stay on your cherry red lips. “Think I might have a shot with Jeannie tonight?”

His mouth lets out a little noise that you’d swear was a whimper. It’s then that the music changes from the metal that’s been blaring over the speakers to Peaches. Fuck the Pain Away. Jeannie is laughing behind the counter, she must have put the song on while you and Eddie were sparring.

Eddie is glaring at you with eyes that are not shiny and sweet - they’re black pools. The grin creeping on his lips is sinister. He leans into your ear to make sure you can hear what he’s got to say over the thumping music. “Do me a favor, yeah? Bring Jeannie out on the dance floor when she’s on her break. I want to see you move.”

He’s gone now, and you knock back your drink. Of course, he’s heading to the stage just as Peaches is chanting for the crowd to fuck the pain away, and Jeannie is refilling your glass. “This one’s on me, Sugar. I like watching someone put Eddie in his place.” Yeah, well he just did a good job of keeping me sitting firmly on this stool, you don’t say. You can feel heat in your chest that’s creeping up your neck, a mix of embarrassment and lust hot on your skin.

And it’s no surprise to you that he is sex on fire on the stage. You fully understand it now. You see the fuller picture of him while he’s at center stage, everything else fades to black. All of the girls that he brings into his bed. His leather jacket is tossed to the side and he’s wearing a crop top sleeveless shirt. His fingers move on his guitar, a fucking Warlock, and your eyes are glued to him. When he starts to sing, you feel like you can’t breathe. You’re warm all over, and it’s not because of the crowd. No, it’s because he’s watching you watch him. You can’t stop yourself. It’s like you two are the only ones in this crowded bar, and he’s hypnotizing you.

You have no idea how long it’s been when Jeannie is coming around the bar to tell you her break is starting. You grab her hand and drag her to the floor. It’s in between songs, and you see Eddie yell back to the rest of the band. The next song is a major departure from the rest of the band’s set, and you know it’s for you, so you make it count. The guitar riff starts, and you circle around Jeannie eyes on Eddie. The drums start and you’re moving your hips to the rhythm. The crowd is moving as one and the energy is palpable. Jeannie is laughing, you made sure to whisper to her about the show you’re putting on for Eddie. You both dance together, your hands never leaving the bartender once during Thunderstruck. When the song ends, you see Eddie adjust his (very tight) jeans, and you leave the floor, dragging Jeannie out the back door and into the alley.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

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pucked-bunnie · 5 months

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wedding dates & unwelcome surprises ⎜j.hughes

pairings: jack hughes x reader genre: fluff warnings: mentions of shitty exes and family ⎜mild fighting?⎜sassy jack⎜ synopsis: it's the first time you're bringing your boyfriend home to meet your family, as a date to your sisters wedding - you didn't know your ex was going to be a plus one. word count: 3.3k authors note: this was requested...kinda. Anyway enjoy and requests are open. (unedited)

“Do you think they’ll like me?” Jacks question breaks the almost silence of the car, one hand sitting on the steering wheel, the other latched with yours on your lap.

“Hmm?” You question, turning your eyes away from the passing trees to the man sitting besides you, his knuckles white as he grips the leather wheel.

“Your family.” He explains, “Do you think they’ll like me?” He questions again, his words making you sputter as your mouth falls open.

“Jack Hughes darling of the hockey world, every teenage fans wet dream, is worried that my family won’t like him?” You exclaim in confusion, a light smile on your face as he shakes his head, moving to pull his hand from yours. “No, I’m kidding.” You yelp, tightening your grip on his, settling your joined hand back in your lap, your other hand coming to cup over his.

“Jack, you’re letting them use your lake house for a rehearsal dinner and you paid for my sister's honeymoon - even if they didn’t like you they’re not gonna bite the hand that feeds them.” You begin, reaching one hand to sweep a loose strand of hair behind his ear, smiling at him softly when he glances your way.

“They will love you, I’ve never seen my family so excited to meet someone before.” You can see some of the tension released from his shoulders as he nods, the car pulling into the ridiculously long driveway of the lake house, more than twenty cars already parked around the house.

“I hope you’re ready for chaos, cause this is going to be like pulling teeth.” You mumble as he stops the car besides your mothers recognizable three door. You finally release his hand before unbuckling your seat belt, sliding out of the car with a long sigh, smoothing out the baby blue fabric of your sundress.

Your sister had insisted on pastel attire to be worn over the weekend, her wedding had to give ‘spring fairy vibes’ is exactly what she had put into the email she sent out. Jack made his way around the front of the car, his hand immediately stretching out towards yours, making grabby motions towards you.

You obliged him, reaching your hand forwards into his, your palms slipping against each other as your hands squeezed together. “Do I look okay?” He asks and you nod, Jack had been adamant about matching as much as possible this weekend, knowing it was something you enjoyed, a light blue linen shirt was tucked into his cream colour slacks, both of you in a pair of brand new white tennis shoes.

“You look great, and they’re going to adore you.” You reassure him, taking in a big breath as you push open the front door to the lake house, the familiar interior putting the two of you a little more at ease.

The two of you stroll into the large house keeping your eyes peeled for the bride and groom, hoping to say quick congratulations to them before being swept into conversation with the rest of your family.

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” A voice says from the kitchen as the two of you enter the room, your sister standing at one of the charcuterie boards, her fiancee close by her side as they both send you large smiles. “You’re only thirty minutes late.” She grumbles, placing her plate on the bench before rushing forwards, her arms embracing you quickly.

Jack releases your hand as you return your sister's embrace, “It’s good to see you.” You hum, hugging her tightly, the two of you releasing as you move over to hug your soon to be brother-in-law.

“And you must be Jack.” You sister coos, standing back with one hand propped on her hip as she glances over your boyfriend. His eyes shoot to yours quickly before returning to your sister, his hands clenched by his side as he waits for her to say something.

“Gracie, leave the poor boy alone.” Your brother in law says quickly, patting you on the shoulder as he shoots you an approving grin.

“Oh who am I kidding, you are a savior, Jack.” You sister steps forwards wrapping her arms around Jack in a friendly hug, squeezing him once more before releasing him and returning to her partner's side.

“I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for the two of us.” Jack tries to wave off the thanks with a shake of his hand.

“Please don’t thank me- it was your sister's idea, I just coughed up the money.” Jack jokes, before quickly adding, “It’s really not a big deal, I hope the two of you enjoy the trip.” Your sister glances between you and Jack with a smile before a gasp escapes her, your eyes catching on a familiar face in the backyard of your boyfriend's lake house, a short blonde attached to his side.

“So there was a bit of a hiccup with the invitations.” Your sister begins and you feel your stomach drop. “We sent Jess an invitation and forgot to remove the plus one option. We were honestly hoping she just wouldn’t respond and we could avoid the whole thing.” Your sister twirls her engagement ring nervously around her finger as she follows your gaze.

“We didn’t even know they were still together.” You brother in law adds quickly, his gaze dropping to the ground quickly as you glare over at him. Jack watches the encounter in confusion, his gaze following yours as he glances over at the man standing talking with who he recognises to be your mother. “I’m really sorry.” Your sister adds, your head shaking quickly.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not like they almost ruined my life or anything.” Your sister grimaces at your words, her mouth opening to say something, falling closed as Jack shakes his head quickly

“Why don’t we meet the two of you guys outside, I’m really digging the spread you’ve got out.” He says quickly, giving your sister an easy out, the soon to be married couple rushing out of the kitchen as Jack pulls you over to the fruit platter. He silently grabs you a plate placing your favourite on the light pink plastic.

“I’m waiting for you to explain what was going on inside of your pretty little head.” He says with a clearing of his throat, turning to lean against the counter as you lean against the marble, glaring at the fridge in front of you.

“Jess is my cousin.” You begin, jack nodding intently, popping a grape into his mouth, “She fucked my boyfriend three years ago, right before we met actually. Josh and I lived together at the time, apparently they had been having an affair for months before he broke it off with me.” You take in a deep breath as you add, “I only found out when I got home to all my shit packed in bags and her shoving their engagement ring in my face.” Jack chokes at you’re bland delivery of the biggest betrayal he had ever heard in his life.

He smacks against his chest a few times, trying to swallow down the remainders of the fruit stuck in his throat. “What the fuck.” He exclaims as soon as his throat is cleared.

“Trust me that’s not even the worst part.” You laugh humourlessly, dropping your gaze to the floor. “After he had put all my belongings into garbage bags and as he was evicting me from my own apartment he shared some hard truths with me.” Jack nodded slowly, his heart dropping as he waits for you to finish. “He said he could only ever be with me when he had a few.”

Jack paused before asking, “you’re fucking with me, right?”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh bubbling from your chest, quickly adding “he even said he loved Jess more than me because she was smaller because she made him feel more masculine.” Jack watches you cautiously as you let out a shaky breath, turning your face up towards him with a sad smile.

“I had to live with a friend for weeks cause I had nowhere else to go, she helped me find my apartment in the city, and then I met you so it wasn’t all bad.” You say taking a big bite of a strawberry Jack hands you.

“I understand why you’re so upset.” Jack responds and you shake your head, placing the scrap of your strawberry on the plastic plate.

“It’s not like I have feelings for him or anything and I couldn’t care less about her but sometimes it’s nice to have a little warning before you go face to face with two assholes who hurt you.” You explain and Jack nods, reaching out to smooth two hands up and down your arms.

“You really dated a guy called Josh?” He questions, a shit eating grin spreading across his face, “That’s like the douche-ist name out there.” He adds and you let out a sarcastic chuckle, grabbing a grape off his plate and lobbing it at his face.

“That’s a lot coming from a dude called Jack.” You roll your eyes as his smile grows, his finger pointing at you in approval.

“Touché.” He says quickly, his hand lacing with yours again, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your hair as he whispers, “Let’s go pull some teeth out.”

“So Jack you’re an athlete?” You seventy year old aunty asks as she leans forwards in her seat he hand placed gently on Jack’s arm, her eyes moving over him in a frenzy. Jack had been more than patient throughout the afternoon.

After another very warm welcome from your mother, the two of you mingled with the rest of your family, many of them curious about Jack’s career choice. “Aunt Shel, we’re just going to go grab some refreshments, would you like anything?” You question as you stand from the table, reaching down to lightly pull Jack’s arm from her grip, her head shaking in answer to your question as she moves her attention to someone else further down the table.

“Thank you.” Jack groans as he lets you drag him over to the drink table, his arms wrapping around your waist as he hovers behind you, watching as you pour two cups of lemonade. His head resting on your shoulder as you sip from your cup, his gaze shooting to your right as your body tenses, a high whine of a laugh sounding besides the two of you.

“Oh my, babe look who’s here.” Jack watches as your head turns slowly, a fake bitter grin on your face as you turn the rest of the way to greet the short blonde.

“Jess… I didn’t know you’d be here.” Your voice is close to a hiss. Jack’s eyebrows raise in surprise as he watches the once over you give the smaller girl, turning to the man that steps up to her side, your name falling out of his mouth as glances over you and the man whose arms are still wrapped around you.

“Well when we got the invite in the mail I was just so excited, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” Jack covers a laugh as he watches your cousin reach out to pat your arm, your body tilting so you remain just out of reach. “And Josh was saying how much he missed spending time with our family.” Jack winces as Jess uses the word ‘our’ his gaze finally flickering over to the man standing besides your cousin.

Josh was a pretty average looking guy for the most part, he and Jack were around the same height, Josh having a close shaved buzz cut to contrast to Jack's quickly growing hair. Jack listens half heartedly to Jess’s rambling, his gaze settled on Josh, the man shifting from foot to foot under the scrutiny of your boyfriend's glare.

“Oh, and I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet.” Jess finally turns her attention to the man standing behind you, his gaze shifting slowly from your ex to your flirtatious cousin.

“Oh, I don’t think introductions are needed.” Jack's voice is sharp as he frowns down at the woman, your gaze turning up at him in surprise, his arms moving from around your waist to stand fully beside you, his hand sliding down your arm, his fingers tangling with yours. “I’ve heard more than my share about you.” He says motioning with your joined hands to Jess before adding, “Both of you.”

“Oh all good things I hope.” Jess giggles leaning into the man besides her, his face set in a frown as he shakes her off, glancing back at you.

“Not even close.” Jack responds.

The silence is thick and Jess’s eyebrows furrow trying to understand what Jack is saying, Josh’s frown deepens as he understands right away.

“Well on that note, I think we have some more mingling to do, please excuse us.” You interrupt, tugging on Jack's hand as you begin to walk back towards the house.

“Actually…” You hear Josh call out from behind you, your steps pausing as you wait to hear what he’ll say, “I was hoping we might be able to have a little talk?”

“Bunny, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Jack whispers in your ear, lifting your hand to press gentle kisses to your knuckles.

“I know.” You whisper back softly, before turning back around to face your ex. “What do you need to say?” You ask and he looks between his fiancé and you with wide eyes.

“Perhaps we can talk in private?” He asks and you shake your head. “At least can we leave the group?” Josh asks and you look around at the large amount of your family, gathered around the incredibly long table in the center of the backyard.

“Fine.” You agree, pointing to a tree a few meters away from the group. He nods, beginning to mumble something to the blonde besides him who bounces off happily to the rest of the family, you turn to Jack who just nods silently, his face serious as he glances over to your ex.

“I’ll be right here if you need anything.” He grumbles, pressing a kiss to your hairline before releasing your hand, watching as you stomp over to the tree where your ex is already waiting. You glance over your shoulder once more at Jack, his reassuring smile giving you a hit of confidence.

“Let’s get this over with.” You snarl as you lean one shoulder against the tree, looking Josh up and down with disdain.

“You seem happy with him.” Josh says quietly, your frown deepening as you wait for him to get to the point. “I doubt he knows you like I do though.” Your lips pull tight as you grimace, watching as Josh’s body relaxes a little, joining you in leaning against the tree, a little too close.

“No he doesn’t” You speak, adding “He knows me better, and frankly the person you think you know isn’t me anymore.” You take in a deep breath as you push off the tree. “Why are you even here, Josh? Jess is a ditz so I can understand why she wouldn’t have considered the possibility of not coming but you are unfortunately smarter than that. So why did you come?”

“I came to apologise. I feel horrible—”

“Wrong, try again.” You interrupt, your arms crossing against your chest. “You know what, I actually don’t care.” You laugh, looking over the man once more before taking a step back, “Despite the way you hurt me, I’m happier now then I could’ve imagined and you should be too. I mean you’re getting married to the girl you thought was better then everything I could give you so I’m going to go and be happy with someone who is better then everything you gave me.”

You turn to make your way back to the party, your eyes locking with Jacks as a large hand grips your wrist pulling you back towards him, Josh’s hands on your shoulders turning you around to face him. “I didn’t say we were done here.”

“We are definitely done here, get your grubby hand off me.” You hiss back, your body trying to pull from his grip, his hand tightening on your shoulders.

“I told you I’m not done.” Josh growls again, your hands finally managing to free yourself from his grip, your body stepping back as he reaches for you again.

“This was done a long time ago, buddy.” Your body jumps as Jack's hands land on your waist, pulling you behind him as he steps up towards your ex. Josh looks over Jack's shoulder trying to gain your attention once more, your boyfriend rolling his eyes, his hands raising to shove against Josh’s chest.

“Doesn’t feel so good when it’s happening to you, does it?” Jack grumbles as he shoves at Josh again, your hand reaching out to grab hold of his shirt, tugging on it softly.

“Jack let it go.” You whisper, tugging again to pull him back to you. “Jack, seriously it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine.” Jack says, his voice firm as he turns towards you, “It’s not fine that you have to suffer through looking at his stupid face while he prances around a wedding dinner he wasn’t even directly invited to. It’s not fine that he thinks he can be a dick and get away with it. And it’s definitely not fine that he thinks he can put his hands on someone.” Jack is breathing heavily, his frustrations evident on his face as your family slowly makes their way over to your small group, wondering what the yelling is about.

“I’m okay.” You whisper, reaching out to touch his cheek lightly, your thumb rubbing against the soft skin, as his breathing settles, his hand coming up to cup over yours.

“Jack’s right.” Your sister says quickly, “You need to leave.” She directs her comment with a glare at your ex, your family glaring at the man standing on his own besides the tree.

“No, Gracie you can’t do that, how am I meant to get home?” Jess questions pushing out of the group to stand besides her fiancee, the ring on her finger glinting in the sun.

“You can both go.” You sister says before adding, “neither of you are welcome at the wedding tomorrow and frankly I’ll be surprised if you get invited to any family events in the future.” You step closer to Jack, his arm bushing yours as you watch your brother in law step up besides your sister, insisting that they leave immediately.

“We’re gonna go too.” You say quietly to your sister as she turns away from the unwelcome couple, the two of them arguing as they trudge back to the house. “I think we both need a little recharge before the party tomorrow.” You continue, giving your sister a tight hug. She nods, making you promise to be at the hotel at seven in the morning on the dot to help her get ready.

You bid quick farewells to the rest of your family, your mum squeezing Jack extra tight, making him promise to return for every family get together.

“I felt quite masculine back there if I do say so myself.” Jack teases as you walk to the car, your hands twined together swinging between the two of you.

“Don’t even start with that.”

“Are you really okay?” He asks as you both get into the car, his eyes searching your face as you let out a gentle grin.

“More than okay, my macho man boyfriend stood up for me.” You respond, Jack letting out a groan at your choice in words. “Maybe I should change your name on my phone.” You tease Jack, snatching the device from your hands as you pull it from your bag.

“Please no.” He whines, tucking the phone under his leg as he starts the car.

“It was kinda hot seeing you get all macho like that.”

“Dear god, this is going to be a long drive.”

#jack hughes #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fluff #nhl fic #nhl

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hatsukeii · 1 month

Note

hi to the 🐤

no rush for this request(?) at all!! i was just rotting thinking about childhood bsf iwaizumi hajime with reader in high school and the fic could be about how hajime is too used to the spotlight being taken by oikawa and gets half sad when he thinks u also got stolen by him but no they’re just scheme to plan a huge date for her to ask him out

OWMXKWNC OR OR OR OR childhood bsf ushijima (do u see a pattern?) always being next to reader and always being there for her, helping her run errands, do stuff and he’s like a rlly big lost puppy following her around and one day they’re just like ‘WE’RE DATING?!’ ‘What do you mean? We’ve been dating since you said yes to my ring pop proposal’

thank you for greeting duck the goose:)

i feel like i haven’t written about iwa nearly enough (he is a need btw yes iwaizume hajime (27) athletic trainer save me) BUT i will get to your ushiwaka one soon after as well‼️ gonna feed the iwa crowd today

bags / childhood bsf!iwaizumi hajime x reader

genre(s) - childhood bsf to lovers!! slight angst, but with a good, fluffy ending, oikawa being his usual self, iwa being hot as always

warning(s) - bags by clairo used for a MAN and not a WOMAN smh:( it just fit well though and I love it, gn reader so the girls the gays and the theys are all covered for!! no serious warnings today my pookies<3

wc: 1834

tldr; he waits for the right time with your bag in his hands, hoping for the day he can hold you with them instead

Iwaizumi Hajime (13) has been holding your bags since the days of middle school. Without fail, every afternoon at 3:10pm exactly as the school bell rings, he is standing outside your classroom, his own bag slung over one shoulder for yours to go on the other. Then, he slings it onto himself, and watches you and Oikawa walk out of the classroom together, cursing to himself for never being put in the same class as the two of you. He drags behind, two bags weighing his little middle-schooler body down, but a toothy grin plastered across his face whenever you look back at him with that face. That face with the ever so slightly widened eyes, and lips apart in a worrisome smile.

“Are you sure you can hold two bags, Iwaizumi? I can take it back!”

“I’m fine! It’s all good!”

Middle schooler Iwaizumi Hajime (13) watches you through Oikawa’s squinted eyes as the two of you chat and giggle on the walk home, his footsteps still lagging behind. He’s rarely close to you, unlike Oikawa, so his mind has to fill the blanks. He remembers hearing you mention the crow’s feet that line the corners of your eyes once in passing to Oikawa, who then rambles on about how they look like whiskers on a cat. He recalls the time you face planted into the floor of the school playground, earning you a faint, white scar that slashes across your top lip. He watches you through Oikawa’s eyes like he’s reading a story. But this is Oikawa’s story, Oikawa’s dialogue, Oikawa’s conversations with you, Oikawa’s descriptions of your face, blank spots filled in with blurry recollections of the details of you, stolen from the vibrations in the air between you and Oikawa, all playing out in front of Iwaizumi’s eyes with your bag slung over his shoulder.

Once in a while (every single day), even now, as the three of you continue to walk home together from Aoba Johsai after volleyball practise, Oikawa turns around to pout at him, feigning betrayal and shock as he accuses high school junior Iwaizumi Hajime (16) of “friendship treason.” Whatever that’s supposed to be.

“Iwa-chan! How come you never carry my bag for me too?”

“You can carry your own, dumbass!”

And every time Oikawa has a childish outburst at Iwaizumi, like this one, you snicker into your palm at his antics, the crow’s feet that engrave themselves into your skin turning into smile lines that lace the underside of your eyes, reminding him that even as the audience of Oikawa’s story, living vicariously through his conversations with you, and the smack on his arm that you mockingly give him, Iwaizumi is still inevitably tied to the plot through the strap of your bag hanging on his shoulder. His body, taller and stronger now, still lags behind the two of you by his deliberately slowed steps. This is Oikawa’s story, and if this is what you want, then he will simply watch it play out.

The walk always reaches your home first, to Iwaizumi’s relief. It is only then that he gets the opportunity to live in Oikawa’s shoes, when he walks towards you and eases the bag onto your doorstep. It is here that he can see you through his own eyes instead, noticing the little freckles from the sun that scatter across your cheeks, and the bits of dried skin on your lips that you gnaw off with your front teeth, and the blood that begins to seep through the raw wound where the skin came off. You look real, not like his fractured recollection of the strokes that make up your face. You’ve clawed your way out of Oikawa’s story into his own, and Iwaizumi etches something new into his mind every time he looks up from placing your bag down, patiently pleading to one day know more than just your face.

"Thanks for holding my bag again Iwa, get home safe, okay?"

Iwa. Oikawa's nickname is rubbing off onto you, and he thinks he can get used to this.

For the rest of the walk, Iwaizumi is inserted into Oikawa's story, like some surprise cameo. He readjusts his backpack, slinging both straps onto his shoulders, and Oikawa knudges his side with his elbows suggestively every time you leave.

"You can lie to them, Iwa-chan, but you can't lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Sure."

But Oikawa knows Iwaizumi is being unfair to himself, because he doesn't know the way his name slips out of your mouth into the conversations between you and Oikawa, more like a recurring character than a surprise cameo, hidden amongst every other line of dialogue in a script. He doesn't know that whenever the crow's feet begin to grow on your cheek, like whiskers on a cat, it's at the mention of his name, perhaps about something Iwaizumi said to Oikawa during training, or a new nickname he threw at him, the latest one being Hanger Bastard. He doesn't know that when the laughs begin erupting from your belly, Oikawa can hear Iwaizumi's name under your breath, choking out as you mumble to yourself, "Fuck, Iwa has to hear this, Iwa HAS to hear this,” just for Iwa to leave wordlessly after setting your bag down, before you can say anything to him.

One of these days, high school senior Iwaizumi Hajime (18) decides that he will do it. He will finally, after years of holding your bag, ask to hold your hand at graduation instead.

Until he overhears you and Oikawa talking as he walks out of the changing rooms, sweaty and sore from volleyball training, his bag hanging off one shoulder.

“Okay, let me do it,” you straighten your posture, looking up at Oikawa.

“Let’s go to grad formal together. Be my plus one.”

And he remembers, this is not his story. It was never his story to begin with, always Oikawa’s. Iwaizumi is only a cameo, an easter egg that’s there to hold you bag every chapter of the way, praying that you will see him lagging behind, waiting for the right time. His steps come to a halt, and the ground squeaks beneath his sneakers, the towel in his hand falling to the floor.

“Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He snatches the towel off the ground, slinging the other strap of his bag on, and heads out of the gym, ripping his eyes away from staring through Oikawa’s, killing himself off in Oikawa’s story, and in your own. Iwaizumi’s character exits the setting of the gym, just a little too quickly to hear the rest of your conversation.

“Iwa-chan is a little shorter than me, so you’ll probably have a better time trying to reach him if you want.”

“Got it, are you sure I’ll be fine though?”

Oikawa knows this needs to happen. He sees that Iwaizumi has been waiting, his patience never running thin even after five years of holding your bag silently on walks home, dragging behind so Oikawa could have his chance at you instead. He has noticed the glances Iwaizumi takes at your face every time he sets your bag down at your doorstep, softer and gentler than the flipping of pages on a yellowing book, yearning to see more, feel more, know more. Oikawa never needed a chance with you, he never wanted it either, not when all you rambled on about was Iwaizumi’s new nicknames for him, or Iwaizumi’s play on the court, or how Iwaizumi would find some stupid video you saw hilarious, but you never had the chance to show him. The second strap going onto his shoulder is all Oikawa needs to be sure that Iwaizumi is tired of waiting. Which means you have to go, now.

“Go, go after him, now, he’s not too far yet. You got this.”

And so you sprint as quickly as your legs will take you. You run down to the school’s exit, and Iwaizumi is nowhere to be found. Your heart sinks at the possibility that he actually thought you were asking Oikawa to be your date, seeing that he departed the gym soundlessly. Your knees ache and every breath you huff in seems to bruise your lungs a little bit, and you have to stop and hunch over, hands pressed against your knees for stability. Your bag weighs on your shoulders, and you realise you have forgotten how it feels to walk with it on your back, books dragging you down like an anchor in the seabed. You slap your knees, it’s the next corner, and it’s about time you carried your own bag for once anyways.

Iwaizumi is staring at a bouquet of flowers that sits lifelessly on his desk in petals of red and stems of green, contemplating what to do with them, when he hears a knock at his front door.

“Hajime! Someone’s here for you!” His mother yells from downstairs, her words dragging on suggestively as he slumps down to the entrance. You stand at his doorstep, a palm sized journal in one hand and holding the doorframe with the other as your body leans into the wall, face flushed and lowered in exhaustion from the sprint you just took.

“Oh, hey, what are you doi-”

Your head jolts up to meet his eyes, and Oikawa is right. Iwaizumi is a little easier to reach. Your hand shoots out, the journal sticking out temptingly from your fingers. Iwaizumi still thinks this is Oikawa’s story, the one he chose to die in. Yet he takes the journal anyways, unhooking the elastic loop and opening it up.

“21/1- Saw a video of a cat spilling vermicelli everywhere, wanna show Iwa because he’d probably like it.”

“23/1- Chat when will Iwa talk to me on the walk home:(”

“27/1- Oikawa says I should just chat him up but I’m nervous???? what the fuck do i do???”

Lines upon lines of journal entries deck the pages of the book, and Iwaizumi can do nothing but read every single entry, a rush of blood flooding into his head.

“14/4- Iwa invited to me to vball training!! Wonder if i can keep going every day to watch him play…”

“15/4- Why does he go quiet when Oikawa is around:(”

He drops his arm, revealing your face behind the journal. His ears pulse at the sound of his heart in his throat.

“Iwa, let’s go to grad formal together. Wanna be my plus one?”

Shoving the book into your arms, his hand signals for you to stay, and he sprints upstairs, almost tripping over on the hardwood beneath his feet. The bouquet of flowers waits for him at his desk, more lively than ever, and he snatches it into his hand, before stumbling back down the stairs to you. He straightens himself at the door, his windpipe threatening to close.

“Sorry, the hoodie and the sweats aren’t really doing me justice right now.”

You stare at him, who scratches the back of his neck, a bouquet of roses wrapped in coffee stained newspapers in his hand. No, you think, the hoodie and sweats are doing him so much justice.

“I should’ve asked you a long time ago, probably back before junior formal dinner, or at freshman dance night, maybe even playground duty in middle school. Can I make it up to you, and ask you now?”

You nod, crow’s feet threatening to emerge from your cheeks, but you suppress them. Your mouth hangs ajar, not sure what to make of this situation.

“Can I have the honour of being yours?”

“Fuck yeah you can!”

Iwaizumi doesn’t spare a moment, before lifting you up by your underarms and pulling you into himself. From afar, Oikawa watches from his own house on the same block, grinning with pride. You giggle into his shoulder, arms around his neck. It sounds like the beginning of Iwaizumi’s story, maybe something even better than what he imagined.

“Now, do you want me to walk you home? I can take your bag for you.”

“Sure, Iwa.”

And walk you home he does, except he doesn’t hold the strap of your bag on his shoulder with his free hand anymore, finally linking you fingers with his own instead.

author's note:

HEYYYY I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS BB @catsoupki I started it the day you requested but i was so busy that i ended up getting WRITER'S BLOCK UM?? but i had this whole idea i was NOT about to let it get wasted because i couldn't think smh ANYWAYS

hope everyone else liked it too!! i love iwaizume hajime (27) athletic trainer and his hanger bastard too i guess... need someone to be walking out the door with your bags too

and here's the writing playlist!! feel free to add songs into it for me so i can find new artists and write with more inspo!!

anyways tags as usual:

@chuuya-brainrot @fiannee @starlysama @bailey-reeds

ok love u guys bye bye

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru #hq iwaizumi #hq oikawa

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sevscig · 1 month

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guys…i wanted a little drabble to feed my addiction to sev, and i’m missing my cat rn because he’s currently with my mom till i figure my shit out sooo!!!! cat content with sev :33 hope you guys enjoy!!!

|- just some fluff :33 cutie sevika, because i love her sm!!!

ღ .:*·゜♡゜・*:.ღ .:*·゜♡゜・*:.ღ .:*·゜♡゜・*:.ღ

sevika who didn’t want the cat at all when you walked in with the purring creature . “sweetheart. i love you, and i put up with you ‘cause i love you but i do not want a cat.” sevikas gravily voice rang out from the kitchen, almost as soon as you walked in with the fluffy kitten in your arms. you thought he was cute, a fluffy black cat with green eyes, “but i already named him sevvvvv” you whined as you waddled happily over to sevika with the purring kitty in your arms, “he’s so cute baby, why can’t we keep him..?” you pouted staring at sevika with a frown.

sevikas taller frame towered over your own as she wrapped her arms around you . “because, i don’t want to clean litter boxes, and do whatever else you have to do to take care of a cat. don’t be a brat sweetheart.” she said pressing a kiss to your forehead. you held the kitty out in your arms, “but i found him in the rain, look at how cute he isss sev baby pleaseeee.” you protested, and for a moment it looked like sevikas face seemed to soften for a second while looking at the fur-ball purring in your arms, “i can’t just put him back outside.” yet another excuse came from you. “uhh, yes you can.” she said, though you just shoved the kitty into her arms and she tensed.

“just hang out with him, he already likes youuu!!! i’m gonna make us dinner baby.” you smiled, sevika groaned but didn’t protest knowing not to anymore. her arms outstretched with the cat like it was a bomb or something as she walked to the living room, “don’t hold him like that sevika. hold him normally.” you called from the kitchen though you couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping your lips at the obscene picture, you wouldn’t think you’d ever see sevika holding a cat.

she sat on the couch the cat curling into a ball on her lap, every muscle in her body was tense, “i don’t want this thing, what do i do with it ? it’s not like i can go play fetch or some shit like i can with a dog.” she grumbled, her eyes lingered on the soft rise and fall of the kittens belly as it kneaded it paws into her thigh, “ow! you little fuc-“ she cut herself off when she caught a look at you. “fucker…what’s its name?” she asked; her voice raspy as she turned on the tv, ready to watch her show. “it’s theo.” you murmured, “well. theo. is a little fucker.” she grumbled looking away from the kitten purring on her lap, she earned rolled eyes from you, and soft snores from the fluffy kitten in her lap as she watched her show, mumbling to herself.

sooner or later dinner was done, putting pasta on two plates for both sevika and yourself. making sure you poured yourself a glass of wine and sevika some whiskey. “sev baby? foods done.” you called softy, still shuffling around the kitchen for last minute things, you hadn’t heard anything coming from her in a while. humming to yourself as you put the dishes in the sink to clean later and walked out of the kitchen to find sevika. your sevika, snoring on the couch, the tv remote in her hand as theo purred in his sleep on her chest. “and you said you ‘didn’t want a cat’” you grumbled to yourself despite the giggle escaping your lips as you pulled out your phone to take a picture. sevika looked so calm, her face rested in a calm expression, her jaw wasn’t clenched, the usual wear of the day wasn’t creased into her eyebrow, she looked…at peace for once.

and this picture? oh you were gonna use it against her forever when she found out, but for now it would do as your wallpaper, your two babies. your pride and joys.

ღ .:*·゜♡゜・*:.ღ .:*·゜♡゜・*:.ღ .:*·゜♡゜・*:.ღ

anywhoo!!! i hoped you guys liked that, it was just a little something because sevikas been on my mind, i haven’t really written much lately but i’m trying to get back into it. i hope yall enjoyed!!! if yall want me to write something just ask😭😭 im gonna try and write more for sev just because i love her sm, so expect more lol😭😭

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wintersera · 4 months

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Can you make a fic about vampire!karina? Her fangs in supernova mv got me dizzy😵‍💫

not so much of a fic but maybe a short little imagine/drabble thingy? cause yk yuh eslayyy

tw: blood 😰

anyways she looks like a little brat here it’s actually driving me a little insane CAUSE HOW DOES SHE LOOK SO CUTE WHEN SHES WREAKING HAVOC IN THE STREETS (and in the sheets ifykwim)😭

the typa vampire girlie to be so desperate to feed on reader bc shes so pretty and shes so so hungry ;;

lets say one day you woke up in the middle of the damn night, had a singular thought- the thought being explore the forest, at what? 2am. what a great idea 😭

so you prepared essentials in a backpack; some food, water bottle, a torch, lighter, batteries and thats about it.

you weren’t too big of a believer in the supernatural, you thought the concept of it was cool yk, warewolves and vampires- all that interesting stuff that you’d see in movies and books. obviously all that stuff was fake, so really, coming across a vampire wasn’t on your list of ‘what to do and encounter at a forest’. and now you’re aimlessly wondering around in the butt fuck of nowhere ignoring the obvious signs as to why your ass should NAWT be in the fucksss forest at this ungodly hour. you could’ve chosen any other time but naaurrr,,,

anyways, as you were strolling around without a care in the world, you heard the snap of a twig and something rustling around in the bushes. it could be a bear, or a man… the idea of that was worse by tenfold.

was the right option run back home and go back to sleep, yes! did you do it? NO, you know what you did? move towards the bushes… any reasoning? “what if its a cat? the cat distribution system could be in my favour today” :]

WRONG.

out from the bushes came a pretty tall girl. she bared her teeth at you, a clear warning so you could back up before anything bad happened. yet you stood there observing her instead. ngl you were pretty terrified none the less, pretty girl with sharp fangs that could rip through your skin. you were convinced she wasn’t real, maybe she was a hallucination??? idk bro maybe you were on shrooms or something.

“what are you doing here all alone in the woods pretty girl?”

tbh you were pretty shocked to the point of not being able to talk, so you stood there.

“aww too scared to speak? that’s okay, come with me” she grabbed your hand, grip pretty tight since she didn’t know how strong she really was. now all of a sudden you’re in an empty cabin log “dont be alarmed but… im hungry- can i get a bite? just a little. i promise i’ll only drink a little” you thought this was a big ass lie but let her bite you :( she’s so hungry.

her sharp fangs pierce into your neck, moaning at how good you taste. she couldn’t help but to embrace you as she was savouring your blood. the pain only lasted for a mere second before your body was engulfed in warmth, you thought that maybe you were gonna pass out but you were fine. i guess she figured out how nervous you were, your body tense and everything?!?2)2! she pulled back “i’m sorry did it hurt too much? it’s okay i can make it feel better” kissing your neck and whispering how happy you made her “i’ll return the favour” trailing bloody kisses from your neck down, to your collarbone and further down. ngl you thought it was pretty hot at how messy and how inexperienced she was at this. her hands would be all over you at first, on your tits mostly playing with them through you clothes “feel any good…? c-can i still taste you?” you nod hesitantly, but it did feel good though!

maybe because you were her first victim, she didn’t know what in the hells she was doing :,( obviously as a new vampire spawn she was trying her very best to make you feel good after she fed off of you. ripping your clothes off with ease, she wasted no time :] she made sure that every inch or your body felt good— leaving bloody stains wherver she kissed you, yes shes a messy eater 😭 the blood is all over her mouth leave her be-

after a long time of being kissed and having your boobs played with, she finally takes off your panties- soaked ofc! and blushes at you, looking up with her darkened puppy eyes,, awww how cute ;; you give her a slow nod and she just goes for it. so desperate and needy to make you feel good, she wouldn’t be lying if biting you made her so turned on. she fr eats you out like you were her last ever meal on earth 😊 like she gets so pussy drunk, lapping up all your juices, sucking and licking your clit so harshly earning a whimper from you.

she just thinks you taste so good,, your blood, your pussy? her heads spinning from your scent,, ouh girl she’s feeling dizzy, but that only drives her more insane. gripping onto your thighs, digging her nails into them. she wants more- moaning loudly as she continues to eat you out vigorously, her tongue circling around your clit so fast that it brings you to tears- are you sure she’s inexperienced bc this feels way too good “mmmhf is.. is this good? does your pussy feel good pretty girl?” that sentence alone brings you towards your climax- thighs squeezing together, essentially trapping her inbetween your legs 🫣🫣

so know if you’re ever feeling bored, you’d know where to go to find a certain specific desperate vampire waiting for you in the log cabins at 3am 🤩

IGNORE IF I MADE ANY MISTAKES PLEEKKKK 🙏🙏🙏🙏

#kaye: imagines!!#aespa smut #aespa x reader smut #aespa karina smut #karina smut #yu jimin x reader smut #girl group smut #yu jimin smut

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jarofstyles · 9 months

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21. “Go and lock the door for me. I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.”

meanH would kill this.

mwah 😚 to you and your stories

FUCK YES LETS DO IT!!!!

Patreon

Warnings- Mean Dom!H... Fratrry

------

Y/N knew it was a bad idea to go back up to his room. He had been badgering her at each party for a repeat of their sex a month back, and for 3 weekends in a row he was making it his personal mission to get her to repeat the process.

It fueled her ego to know that she was that good, that he wasted his time at the parties to follow her around and tempt her. A game of cat and mouse, a sensual back and forth. He'd cornered her in the hallway just 4 days ago as she was leaving the lecture hall, pulling them into an alcove and teased her about her leggings. They were flared and tight, no secret to her that they flattered her well. Secretly, she knew she'd pass him in the hallway and wanted him to look.

Her reservations were simply because he was a bit of a dick. Cocky and arrogant and all the things she shouldn't like, but it sent heat between her thighs when he gripped her chin and kissed her hard and deep, reminiscent of the kiss he'd given her in the dingy bathroom while she sat on the countertop with his prick pounding into her, the music muffling her whimpers.

Of course she wanted a repeat. No one had made her orgasm, not like that. For as cocky as he was, he had a right to be. Fucking her with that hat sitting backwards on his head and that pretentious old rock shirt, getting down on his knees mid fuck to taste her- that had thrown her for a loop. He was mean, which worked out in her favor considering she liked it. His hand around her throat and the filth that left his mouth. He'd made her see stars not once, but twice. Shaky knees as she left, despite his furrowed brow asking her to stay.

She didn't obviously, and he'd been chasing her since. It must mean he held similar sentiments to her, found her to be extremely compatible- to the point of scaring off other men. That had done it for her tonight. What had been meant to be a fight about him following her around had turned into her sat in his lap with his stupid fucking hat knocked off on the ground and her hands in his hair, her bandage dress pulled up to her hips as she rocked on his lap. He tasted like mint and cheap beer, but she didn't mind when he kissed her like he couldn't breathe without her tongue in his mouth.

Breaking apart from her, he held the back of her neck as he pulled her to look at his face. "You want this?" He murmured, slipping his thumb under her lip to clean up her smudged lipstick. "Want me to fuck you like the pretty slut you are?"

Y/N knew she was pathetic, nodding wildly as she tried to reconnect their lips. He wasn't done yet, though. "Good. Made it to my room this time, and you're not gonna run off on me after we finish once. Been Makin' me chase you around because you've got some golden pussy and it's been making me crazy. One time isn't going to be enough for me." He warned, making her melt. His voice had an edge of threat to it that only made her hotter, her clit swollen as she still rubbed up against his jeans. "You sure you're okay with this?" His tone softened a bit as he looked at her face. Despite being a dickhead he'd cared a lot about consent both times they'd fucked around.

"Yes- Yes, I really want it. Please." In the morning she was going to regret being so needy, so whiny. Giving him more fuel to feed his ego. But right now, she craved what only he seemed capable of giving her.

His swollen lips curled up in a smirk, humming in his throat. “Go and lock the door for me. I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.” He sent her off, watching her on wobbly legs to flick the lock on his door. Peeling off his jeans, he kicked them to the side and stood expectantly as she made her way back to him. "There we are. Looks like you've got enough thought in that pretty little head to follow instructions." His hand came up and gripped her cheeks, making her lips pout out before dipping his head down to rest his forehead against hers. "Lets hope you keep that up. Know you get a bit dumb when you cum." He placed a sloppy kiss to her pouted lips before releasing her face.

She never imagined anyone talking to her this way would make her that horny, that melty and soft, wanting to get on her knees and listen him, but it did. He knew how to coax her, this near stranger. He pulled the dress off of her form, cursing under his breath as he pushed her back onto the bed and climbed on top of her. "Insane body, y'know that? Fucking mental." Her breasts were bare, as they usually were in outfits like this. His fingers ran down the valley of her chest, past her belly button and the waistband of her stupid thong. "Did you know you were going to give into me tonight? Couldn't handle a vibrator one more time?" He clicked his tongue. "Needed to be fucked until you're a begging mess? Didn't even do half of what I wanted t'do to you last time." His fingers tugged on the flimsy panties, tugging them down her legs. She let him. All she could do was nod.

It was like her mouth and brain weren't connected with him. All she wanted to do was say yes, please, more.

"Dunno why you fought me so hard when you know how good we feel together... But you're not going to be able to hobble out of here when m'done with you. So..." He grabbed her phone and placed it in her hand. "Let your friends know you're with me, you're safe, you've got a ride home tomorrow. Or not." His lips kissed sloppily over her breasts before he licked the right nipple. "Maybe you'll come to your senses and stay the weekend, let me do all the filthy things you want. Deprived, needy whore like you would probably love that."

She typed with shaking fingers, pausing when he sucked her nipple into his hot, wet mouth- only for him to pull back with his teeth grazing the swollen bud. "Not dumb for me already, baby..." He clicked his tongue in faux disappointment. "S'pathetic. Type out the message while I play with your pretty tits, and then I'll give you what you want."

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #frat harry styles #frat harry #harry smut #harry fluff #harry angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles au

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