#it makes quite a bit so you could always cut it in half | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cake-writes · 3 months

Text

Whoops

Pairing: Kakashi x Female!Reader

Warnings: smut, sex pollen, consensual somnophilia, substances, oral sex + rimming (female receiving), vaginal fingering, anal fingering + anal sex (female receiving), rough sex, playful sex, unprotected sex, edging, spanking, creampie, soft!dom!kakashi, this fic had no right being so fucking filthy, 'honey' used one (1) time as a pet name, safe word mention, so! much! banter!!!

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: When you and Kakashi both forget to bring along something important on a mission, the two of you have to fight the effects of an aphrodisiac without.

—

You and Kakashi sit side-by-side on the sofa, staring down at the single white pill atop the coffee table of your inn room. His thigh presses against yours, allowing you to feel the heat radiating off of him—which is certainly, well, something, because your own body also feels way too hot. Stupidly hot.

“How could you forget to pack more detox pills?” Kakashi asks, looking over at you in mild disbelief. His cheeks appear rosy where they peek out above his mask, but you know it’s not so much from embarrassment as it is from the poison you’d both been hit by some hours ago.

You shoot him a half-hearted glare. “How could you forget to pack condoms?”

Your first aid kit really should have had more pills in it than just the one, but you can’t remember the last time you did an inventory. And Kakashi, by regulation, should have had condoms in his bag in the event of a situation like this. Maybe he’d forgotten to double check his reserves, same as you. Whoops.

The two of you would have been dosed just before dinner. That’s the only time an enemy trap had sprung, but there hadn’t been much of an effect until the middle of the night, long after the shops had closed and you’d settled in for sleep. At the time, you'd both assumed that it was just a bit of dust from the trap's explosion. Whoops, again.

With a weary sigh, your mission partner leans back against the couch, loosely crossing his arms over his chest in a deceivingly relaxed manner. “You take it,” Kakashi says, his uncovered eye drifting down your body before it flicks back up to yours. “You seem to have been hit harder than I was. I should be able to manage on my own.”

You swallow thickly at the mental imagery his words bring on. He’ll have to rub one out. More than one, most likely. “We should cut it in half. You’re still—”

“No. You’re smaller than I am, and you’re dealing with a stronger dose.”

He’s right. You can feel the sweat beading on your forehead, feel the warmth of a flush slowly creeping up your neck and onto your face, feel your skin burning for attention. Kakashi really is quite attractive—you’ve always thought so—and with the aphrodisiac coursing through your veins, your attraction to him has been cranked up to eleven.

Fuck, your pussy aches, and only he can fill it the way that you need.

“Now take the pill before it gets any worse,” he tells you flatly. “That’s an order.”

“Ugh, fine.” Annoyed that Kakashi would seriously pull rank on you in this situation, you grab the pill and pop it into your mouth, before you chase it with a glass of water. Then you frown at him. “If you can’t manage, let me know. I’ll help.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I mean it, Kakashi. Without a condom, we may not be able to, you know,” you jokingly make a rude gesture indicating sex, “but I know how shitty it can be to try and get through this on your own. If you need my help, let me know. Okay?”

If he’d brought condoms, he’d probably already be inside you right now. God, you feel so fucking empty.

“Okay,” Kakashi agrees, unfazed by the suggestion. The two of you are shinobi first, and people second. Your bodies are tools to be used in service of your village. You know that he knows that, same as you do. It’s definitely not the first time either of you have encountered an aphrodisiac; you’re both too experienced in the field to have that sort of plausible deniability.

The biggest issue, however, is that if it gets worse during the night, then his life could actually be at risk. Aphrodisiacs are still poison, albeit more pleasant than the usual suspects.

Kakashi gets a pensive look about him, then. “The pill will probably knock you out, you know. What then?”

You grimace. Right. So much time has passed since you last needed to take one that you’d forgotten. Forcing rest helps the body to heal more quickly, or some such. It’s terribly inconvenient.

“Well…” There really isn’t another option. If his hand isn’t enough, your unconscious body will have to be, because you sure as hell aren’t waking up to a dead teammate tomorrow. “You can use me,” you say finally, cursing your horny brain for actually enjoying the idea of it, of him using you for his pleasure while you’re asleep. “Take what you need, even if I’m knocked out. You have my permission. Just don’t hurt me, and don’t knock me up.”

A lick of heat comes into that dark grey eye of his, before he clears his throat and nods. “All right.” When he pulls himself to his feet, it’s impossible to miss the tent in his tac pants, though you make sure to keep your eyes above his waist out of respect for him. “Get some rest. I’ll try not to disturb you unless I have to.”

“Have fun,” you say sweetly, waggling your fingers in a wave as he heads back to his room.

—

Blearily, you wake to the sensation of fingers slicking through your folds.

The plush of your futon cushions your body, just as you remember upon going to sleep, though your yukata has since been pulled open at the front. The slight chill in the air brings goosebumps to the surface of your naked skin, bared to the night, and pebbles your nipples.

The poison seems to have worn off—of you, at least. You aren’t so stupidly hot anymore, but your tits and stomach do feel a bit sticky, a smattering of wetness cooling on your skin.

It’s cum, you vaguely realise. A lot of it.

Heat pools in your abdomen at the realisation that Kakashi used you—your nudity—for masturbation fodder. And now, he has your thighs splayed wide, allowing you to feel the heat of his breath against your soaked core while he spreads you open with his thumbs.

You should tell him that it’s okay. You should tell him that you don’t mind, that he can do whatever he needs to with you, but there’s something unbelievably sexy about him using you for his own enjoyment without you ever knowing. Then again, you’re still pretty out of it from the meds.

When his hot tongue slides up through your slit, a pleasured sound bubbles up from your throat before you can help it. He’s good with his mouth.

Kakashi chuckles against you, swirling his tongue over your clit until your hips jerk. “Finally awake?”

“M’sleepy,” you slur drowsily, rubbing at your eyes.

He hums in response, sluicing his fingers through your slick heat. You expect him to slide them into your aching core, but instead he moves a little lower, circling the rim of your ass with a fingertip. A glob of saliva joins it, before he coos, “I’m sorry for waking you. Is this okay?”

It’s been some time since you had anal, and the thought of it with him only makes you want it more. Maybe there is still some poison coursing through your veins. You’re too out of it for the pill to have fully done its job.

“Yeah,” you sigh, relaxing into his touch.

He flattens his tongue over your clit as he slowly eases his finger inside your tight hole. It’s a bit of a stretch, but you take it easily, moaning at the sensation.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” Kakashi murmurs against your heated flesh, sounding apologetic. “I would have loved to fuck you here,” he delves his tongue into your cunt for a moment, pulling a quiet gasp from you, before he drags it up to your clit again, “if I hadn’t already gotten off a few times. You’re so wet.”

It’s too risky for him to fuck your pussy with whatever semen might be lingering behind. He’s respecting your boundaries, but you’re sure he doesn’t want to take the chance, either.

“S’fine,” you answer sleepily. “Feels good.”

“If it hurts, tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

“Mm. Okay.”

Time passes like a fever dream. You still feel foggy from the pill, and the pleasurable sensations that Kakashi bestows upon you only muddle your brain even further.

Soon your thighs are squeezing around his head, your fingers buried in soft, silvery hair as he edges you with his mouth for what must be the third time—or more, but you’re too out of it to really keep track. With each near-orgasm, he eases another finger inside, slowly but surely stretching out your tiny hole to take him.

When your body starts to quiver from pent-up release, he carefully withdraws his fingers from your ass and folds your thighs to your chest. Then, his tongue presses into your tight rim, tasting you directly.

The choked moan that rips out of you is nothing short of ungraceful. “K-Kashi,” you slur, cracking your eyes open to blearily meet his. “You don’t have to—mm!”

Kakashi gives you another long, savoury lick, holding eye contact the entire time to make his point, before he sits back up onto his knees and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re offering me your body,” he rasps, smoothing his hand along your calf where it rests on his shoulder. “The least I can do is make sure you enjoy it.”

Then he spits into his palm, messy and wet, and slicks up his cock with saliva. The action is so vulgar that your pussy clenches around nothing.

“Are you ready? I’m happy to prepare you more if you need it.”

“I’ll let you know if I’m not,” you answer breathily. It’s hard to see him in the darkness of your inn room, even if your body falls within the cascade of moonlight coming in through the window. You can still make out the shine of his eyes and the sharp, hard lines of his muscular form, but his face remains in shadow.

Damn it. You really want to see what he looks like under his mask.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises, and he does. Even though you can feel the heat coming off of his skin, and even though you can almost guarantee he’s just as horny as you’d been earlier, he takes it slow.

Kakashi has always had more self-restraint than you, even now.

His cock really is big, too—not bigger than you expected, but it’s definitely a stretch. He presses in carefully, not even an inch at a time, taking in every single one of your reactions to ensure that he doesn’t hurt you.

Your face screws up when the head pops in, locked inside by the tight squeeze of your body. “Fuck,” you choke out. “It’s big.”

He licks his thumb, before he brings it to your clit, rubbing soft circles over it to help ease you into the stretch. “Better?”

You make a soft, pleased noise in the back of your throat. It is better. It helps quite a bit, actually, by offering a distraction for when he slides in a bit further and you encounter a small amount of pain. Nothing severe; it just comes with the territory.

Even still, your hand flies down to jam against his thigh, keep him from going any deeper.

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “I’ll wait.”

And he does.

By the time he’s all the way inside, you’re practically panting like a dog because he feels so fucking good. Your empty cunt still aches to be filled, but the slow, beautiful glide as he pulls nearly all the way out of your other hole is a welcome alternative.

Kakashi adjusts your leg on his shoulder for a better grip. “Ready?”

You nod your head, peering up at him in the darkness.

Then he pushes back inside, all at once, and you both groan.

“I’m not gonna last long,” you gasp, and he lets out a laugh that sounds almost as winded as you feel.

“Neither am I.”

Kakashi treats you like glass in the way that he handles you, ensuring that it’s good for you, but there’s an undercurrent of need in his every movement, his every touch. You can feel it when his fingers dig firmly into the meat of your thigh; feel it in that slight loss of control every so often, when he thrusts hard, once, then reins it back in.

He’s prioritising your comfort, but he needs more.

“More,” you beg, because you need it, too.

He lowers your leg down and leans forward onto his hands, caging your body in between. The moonlight finally, finally reveals his face, and fuck, he just might be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. Strong, angular features paired with soft lips and a beauty mark on his chin—he’s gorgeous.

“More?” Kakashi asks amusedly. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

He snaps his hips forward once, testing your resolve.

“Yes, I can fucking handle—”

But you don’t finish, because when Kakashi shifts back slightly to allow another glob of saliva to fall from his mouth and onto the place where the two of you are connected, something in your brain breaks at the sight. It’s filthy, messy, wet—absolutely nothing like what you’ve come to expect from your mission partner, reserved as he is.

Or not. He’s just as much of a freak as you are. He just hides it better. Kakashi ate your ass without a shred of hesitation, and the memory is such a turn-on that you wiggle your hips impatiently.

Another soft laugh leaves him at that. “Needy,” he teases so affectionately that your cheeks burn, but you barely notice because he’s already fucking into you again, slow but so unyieldingly firm in his thrusts that you can almost feel the impact in your throat.

Cursing something unintelligible, you grab at the futon above your head to brace yourself. It feels so mind-numbingly good that you swear you might be going insane—or maybe that’s because the haze from the meds still hasn’t fully cleared.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Kakashi well and truly gives you more, just like you asked for. Every time he hits as deep as he can go, you feel another shred of his self-control slip until he shoves your thighs up next to your ears and leans forward to trap your knees in the crooks of his elbows.

Then he fucks you faster.

You can see the aphrodisiac plain as day on his face, in the beautiful flush that colours his cheeks and chest and the sweat that dots his brow. Some of his hair sticks to his forehead, and when his near-manic eyes lock onto yours, you’re held captive under his hungry gaze.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks raggedly. The muscles in his arms tense and strain as he holds himself above you, pounding into you, and then his lips curl up to reveal the slight point of a canine. “Maa, I just might break you at this rate, you know?”

It’s almost impossible to think, let alone string a sentence together, but you do it somehow. Each word punches out of your lungs with another forceful thrust. “Break me, then,” you demand, sounding breathless.

A dark note of desire comes into his features, sharingan swirling just a tiny bit faster when you reach your hand between your legs to play with your clit. As if the sensation wasn’t enough already, the sight of him looking so debauched could easily do you in.

And it would, too, if Kakashi didn’t bat your hand away. He drops down onto an elbow to change the angle, and although his cum smears wet between your bodies, neither of you notice because he plunges two fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt.

“You want me to break you, honey?” he asks, voice low, and a choked sort of wheeze rips out of you as he roughly crooks his fingers up into your g-spot. “All right. I’ll break you. Would you like that?”

Scratch that, he might be even more of a freak than you are, and you fucking love it. “Yes!”

Kakashi doesn’t pump his fingers in and out; instead, he uses them to bully your g-spot exclusively, dragging his thumb over your clit with every brutal snap of his hips. Your eyes roll back at the combined sensation, the overwhelm of it all, and you can’t even manage to get another word out—just an embarrassing mix of gasps and whines.

“Oh, look at you,” he sighs appreciatively. “Are you close?”

Your cunt flutters around his fingers as if to answer the question, and he lets out a knowing hum. Then, right before you crest, Kakashi pulls out of your ass and drops down to devour your pussy with an urgency that makes your toes curl.

“Shit,” you squeal, your body writhing under his sudden onslaught.

He rapidly pumps his fingers in and out, hooking them into your g-spot again and again, the wet, sloppy sound of you echoing throughout the room as he finger-fucks you into oblivion, all the while sucking on your clit until you can’t handle it anymore.

“M’gonna—fuck,” you swear, pulling at his hair. Your eyebrows scrunch together as you look down at him, admiring the sight of him, the way he’s focused so intently on your pleasure even as you grind your pussy into his mouth. “Yes, yes—”

The intensity in his eyes when they snap up to meet yours is what finally sends you over.

You shatter apart with distinctly wet gush that soaks your futon straight through to the tatami, but before you’re even finished convulsing, he’s already on top of you again, sliding right back into your poor, abused asshole until he bottoms out.

You choke. The size of him is even more noticeable after your orgasm, especially with the aftershocks still rippling through your body, but it feels good. Mostly.

He pauses, a flicker of softness in his expression. “Too much?”

“Never,” you say, offering what you intend to be a cocky smirk, even though you can barely keep your eyes open.

His brows raise in surprise, just for a split-second, before he laughs softly and starts to ease in and out of you in slow, patient strokes, giving you a chance to adjust in spite of your bravado. “It’s a shame we didn’t do this sooner,” he comments, tone teasing. “We could have had a lot more fun on all those courier missions last year.”

You snort. “Don’t forget those awful recon missions in the snow.”

“Would have been a great way to keep warm,” he jokes, before his gaze trails over your face for a prolonged moment. “Better?”

You offer him a grateful smile, before you lick your lips, relishing in how his focus drops to your mouth for the briefest of moments. “Yeah. Now fuck me like you mean it, Hatake.”

“Oh?” Kakashi tilts his head in his familiar way—just like when he’s about to knock you on your ass in a sparring match. “You don’t think I meant it before?”

“No,” you answer snootily, because you’re a glutton for punishment.

“I see, I see,” he hums. “My mistake.”

In one fell swoop, you’re flat on your stomach, your face buried in the plush futon; and then he’s spreading your cheeks, spitting crudely onto your hole, and hiking your ass up higher with his grip on your hips.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your cheek mashing into the sheets as he shoves his cock deep inside your stretched-out channel, deeper than he’d been previously.

All sense of softness is gone, now, replaced by a brutality that makes your eyes cross. Kakashi fucks into you hard, relentless in his pursuit to break you just like you wanted, and you love every second of it.

“What do you think, hm? Do I mean it now?” Kakashi asks lightly, after which one hand claps down on your ass when you struggle to piece together an answer. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” you croak out, drooling onto the sheets.

“Hm?” Another spank, harder this time, and you hiss in pain. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Yes!” Your voice cracks on the word, and when he slows down to check on you, you rush to add, desperation in your tone, “Green, fuck, don’t—”

His hand embeds itself in your hair, before he yanks you up, making your back arch almost to the point of discomfort. His other arm snakes around your front and between your breasts, his fingers wrapping loosely around your throat as he pulls your body flush against his chest.

“You even have safe words,” Kakashi murmurs into your ear, grinding his hips into yours. “Why the hell didn’t we do this sooner?”

God, he’s so fucking deep.

“Probably—hah—because we work together,” you say breathlessly, leaning your head back onto his shoulder, “and because Lady Fifth would kill us for fraternizing.”

His laughter puffs hot against the shell of your ear. “What a way to die.”

He releases your hair, and slides his hand between your legs in order to messily work your clit. Your thighs tremble and shake from the added stimulation, your moans only increasing in volume the longer it goes on.

Five seconds, maybe? Ten? You can’t be sure.

“God, I feel like I’m drunk,” you groan, your words still slurring just a little. Time doesn’t feel like a real construct right now; all you know is that Kakashi is the only thing grounding you, keeping you from drifting away with the midnight breeze.

“I’m sorry. I waited as long as I could for the pill to wear off.” Then he presses an apologetic kiss to your temple, and a warm, happy shiver ricochets through you thanks to the affection behind it. “Do you want to stop? I should be able to manage from here.”

“No,” you breathe. “S’fun, just a little out of it.”

“Still want me to break you?”

You shake your head. “I’m getting sore.”

“All right.” He releases you, then, and carefully withdraws. “Lay on your back again. I’ll try to be quick.”

You do as he instructs, shifting onto your back with your legs spread. As you watch Kakashi smear a bit more spit onto his cock, you make a mental note to pack condoms and lube in your bag for future missions—you know, just in case.

He settles back between your thighs, his expression now reminiscent of what you’re used to: calm, serious, measured as he searches your face for any sign of discomfort. “Are you sure? We don’t have to keep going if you’re sore.”

“Mm, yeah. I think I can come again.”

“Yeah? Then I’ll make it happen.”

Kakashi holds himself at your entrance, still watching your face as he starts to ease back inside, and he does it so gently, so tenderly, that you might actually be tempted to fall for him. You’ve never seen this side of him until tonight, even though you’ve been working together off and on for years.

“You’re sweet,” you say without thinking.

His eyebrows shoot straight up onto his forehead, before he coughs to cover a laugh. “My cock is in your ass, and you think I’m sweet?”

Well, when he puts it like that, he has a point. “No, never mind, I take that back,” you respond haughtily, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re a dick. My bad.”

This time, he does laugh. Kakashi smooths his palm along your thigh as he hooks it over his hip. “Yes, yes. Now, how do you want it? Like this? Or…” He drops back down onto his forearms, pressing your bodies together, and studies your reaction. “Like this? What’s more comfortable?”

You wrap your arms around his neck and lean up to brush his nose with yours, teasing and affectionate. “Like this.”

His eyes shine warmly. “Can I kiss you?”

The question throws you, because he hasn’t kissed you yet. How the hell hasn’t he kissed you yet? “Yeah. Yes. Please.”

He smiles just a little before his lips slot over yours, and your body thrums electric as he begins to rock into you with sensual, fluid movements that alleviate that incessant ache in your abdomen.

“Touch yourself,” Kakashi breathes into your mouth, following the words with his tongue like he intends to explore every inch, maybe steal your breath while he’s at it. You’d let him, too. He’s that good of a kisser.

When you shove your hand between your bodies and find your clit, you throw your head back to bite out a swear. “S-Shit, that’s good—”

He kisses a blazing trail up the line of your neck, his teeth scraping pleasantly against your skin every so often. “You like it when I’m sweet to you?” he hums.

Of course he’d still be making fun of you for that. You can hear it in his tone, but you don’t pay it any mind because he feels so fucking good that you want to scream. It’s all you can do to make a soft little sound in the affirmative, your nails digging into his back.

“Good,” he murmurs, “because I like being sweet to you.”

You whine as he lovingly sucks a bruise on your neck, laving his tongue over the mark to soothe it after.

Then he pulls back just slightly to meet your heavy-lidded gaze. “Where do you want it? I’m not going to last much longer.”

Your breath comes out in short, sharp pants as he brings you higher—and himself, too, judging by his bitten-back moan of approval when you lock your ankles behind his back. “Inside,” you breathe. “Need it inside.”

“Fuck, I know you do. Are you—?”

You nod your head frantically as you hold the eye contact, though it becomes increasingly harder to do so the closer you get to the edge. Your eyelids flutter when he hits a particularly good spot inside of you, which he makes a point to target from then on.

“Oh, fuck. Oh my god,” you babble mindlessly, clutching at his shoulders with one hand, rubbing at your clit with the other. “Yes, right there, just like that!”

Kakashi holds you gently under your chin, his fingertips lightly pressing into your cheeks to ensure that you can’t look away, and there’s a fondness to his expression as he watches you fall apart. “Yeah? Like that?”

“Yes,” you sob. “Yes, yes, yes—”

When Kakashi kisses you again, there’s no decorum to it, no finesse, and his teeth click against yours from the sheer need behind it. His tongue pushes deeply into your mouth, stifling your moans as you finally come undone, your muscles bearing down around him so tightly that he has no choice but to shove in as far as he can go and coat your insides with his cum.

He lets out a sound of male satisfaction against your lips, and the sudden burst of heat deep inside your body brings on a sense of warm, fuzzy contentment—the satisfaction of a job well done.

As the aftershocks fade, your heart pounds a frenzied tattoo within the confines of your chest as you work to regain your breath. Kakashi slumps against you, boneless and fatigued and heavy as hell, and you grunt when he all but crushes you under his weight.

“I don’t think I can move,” he says tiredly, muffled with his face buried in your neck. “I think I pulled something.”

“Oh, poor baby.”

At that, he only lays more heavily on you, purposely, which knocks more of the breath out of your lungs; but he does lift up after a moment, and the way he rolls off of you and onto the futon, splaying out spread eagle, would be funny if you weren’t aware of how exhausting the comedown can be from an aphrodisiac.

He’s probably thoroughly tapped out. It’s impossible to say how many times he got off, not to mention all the physical exertion he’d gone through to get there.

“Did you die?” you ask.

“Probably. Your ass did feel like heaven.”

When you groan at his terrible joke and give his side a playful shove, Kakashi chuckles, and god, he sounds beyond tapped out. You’re actually a little concerned, so you lean up onto an elbow to give him a once-over, make sure he’s all right.

That pretty red flush is thankfully beginning to recede from his skin, though you find a number of scratch marks from your fingernails around his shoulders and upper arms. A surge of feminine pride flows through you upon seeing them, and you absently trace one with your fingertip before you finally glance up at his face, only to find him watching you in amusement.

“Pervert,” he says.

You choke on a laugh. “Excuse me?”

Kakashi tucks one of his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow, looking entirely too self-satisfied for your liking. “You’re just as bad as I am. I could have sworn you’d be more vanilla.”

You turn your nose up at him. “Well, I already knew you were a pervert. You read porn in public.”

“Erotic literature,” he corrects pointedly.

“Sorry, you read erotic literature in public. Because that’s so much better.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment, trying not to smile at the banter, before you roll your eyes in mock annoyance and lay back down, resting your head on his chest. Kakashi wraps his free arm comfortably around you, trailing delicate patterns along your shoulder with his fingertips.

“Are you feeling better?” you ask quietly.

“A bit. Thank you. I hope you aren’t too sore.”

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna feel it tomorrow. I haven’t done anal in months.” Then you lift your head to give him a cheeky grin, resting your chin on his chest. “Worth it, though. I mean, I finally got to see your face after all these years, so I’m not complaining.”

His lips twitch, like he’s trying not to laugh. “You could have just asked.”

You scoff. “Pass.”

Then you go to lay your head back down, but he stops you.

“Wait. Look at me.” When you do as he says, Kakashi brushes his thumb along the corner of your mouth. “You’ve got something right here.”

“What?” Frowning, you lift your chin a little so he can have a better look. “Well, get it, then.”

Before you can react, he leans in to give you a quick, unexpected kiss.

You blink at him, your heartbeat stuttering inside of your chest.

“Got it,” he hums, licking his lips.

Your cheeks flush all over again. “You—That’s—”

“What, am I only allowed to kiss you if I’m inside you?”

“No! Just…” Your face feels on fire, and you look away, embarrassed. There’s a difference between sex and intimacy, and you’ve just discovered the fine line between them. “Just warn me next time.”

“All right.” You can hear the amusement in his voice, but he doesn’t poke fun at you any longer. Instead, Kakashi leans up to grab the blankets with his free hand, after which he pulls them over you both and wraps that same arm around you, holding you closer than before. “Get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Nestled comfortably in his arms, you finally allow your eyelids to flutter shut. “Night, Kakashi.”

His lips brush tenderly over your forehead, before he whispers, “Goodnight.”

—

A/N: yes they need a shower. no we do not acknowledge this. lmao

thank you for reading! if you could please please please keysmash in the comments or reblog to show your appreciation, it would give me sooo much dopamine :)) thank you!!!

#kakashi smut #kakashi x reader smut #kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi imagine #kakashi #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #kakashi fanfic #kakashi x y/n

1K notes · View notes

cashmoneyyysstuff · 6 months

Text

this is a lil part two for this lil request fic i wrote about katsuki takin' care of a drunk reader ! yall rlly seemed to like it n asked for a part two so, here it is !! hope yall enjoy !

no pronouns mentioned, just pure fluffy katsu, microscopic angst maybe kinda and if you squint HARD (reader gets a little bit upset), soft katsu but he's also an asshat but we love him anyways, mentions of food n eating, mentions of bein drunk, lemme know if i missed sum else !

"ya told me you loved me yesterday."

it's all katsuki utters in the quiet of your apartment as he looks out the window.

you promptly choke on your toast.

you manage to cough down your bread. clearing your throat as you try to speak as naturally as possible. “oh yeah ?”

katsuki grunts in response, taking a sip of his orange juice and smacking his lips before speaking again. still looking at the window and away from you, it makes you nervous. “yeah, thanked me for always takin care of ya, r’something”

katsuki is trying his very hardest to speak casually and he’s praying to every god there is you can’t hear the slight quiver in his voice or see the slight shakiness of his hand when he brings the glass of juice to his lip.

“oh.” your heart beats so loud you can hear it in your ears. you try to salvage the situation and you force out an awkward laugh. “ i mean—i am thankful to you, y’know.”

“ya should be, nobody else could handle takin’ care of your ass.”

“hey !”

you think this is fine. you were drunk and stupid and you’re fine with him brushing off your accidental confession like this if it means it won’t make things awkward. if it means he’ll keep coming over to your house like he owns the place and cook for you because you apparently don’t know how to cook for yourself well enough for his liking. as long as you can keep hanging out with him and going out for drinks and having him take care of you. though, you might not drink as much next time you two go out.

after a minute or two he speaks again “did you mean it ?”

your hand is already reaching for his half bitten piece of toast when you freeze for the second time “did i mean what ?”

katsuki scoffs, smacking your hand away from his toast with two fingers, you let out a little whine “ i know you’re not dumb, so quit actin’ like you are.”

“but i don’t know what you mean !” you inwardly cringe at your dumb response.

“when you said you—“ katsuki cuts himself off with a quiet groan, grabbing his toast and splitting it in half, chucking one of the pieces onto your plate “whatever” he mutters to himself. your heart squeezes when you see the sad frown on his pretty face he doesn’t seem to realize he has.

you don’t know if you’ve still got alcohol in your system, you don’t know if you’ve fully slept it off yet, if you’re fearless or crazy or just plain stupid, but after taking a bite of the toast he’d given you you blurt out something you were sure you would’ve only had the courage to say if you were black out drunk.

“i did.”

katsuki turns to you the moment you finish your sentence, bright red eyes widened as he tries not to let his surprise show, he fails to though. “ you did what ?”

in the back of your mind you want to pout at him because you know he knows what you mean. you know he just wants to hear you say what he wants to hear and it makes you a little grumpy because it’s early in the morning and you don’t look your best at all right now. you’re too embarrassed to even look him in the eye yet his bore into you so hard it feels like a magnetic pull, like you’re being forced to look at him despite your best efforts not to. you want to be at least a little mad but you can’t blame him, you feel like you owe this to him in a way.

“ i did mean it..when i said..” you’re incapable of looking at him as you feel shame creep onto you, clinging onto you like a sweaty shirt, you manage to swallow down the piece of toast“ when i said that.” you trail off quietly.

no sound is made and no voice is heard for at least a minute, but you feel yourself wanting to cry more and more with each second that passes.

you get the courage to look up at him and instantaneously which you never had when you see a smirk on his annoying face.

“that ? that, what ?” he jeers with a grin bordering on evil, sharp teeth on display.

you throw your head back and groan “katsuki, oh my god !” leaning forward across your table you try to pull his nose after you hear him chuckling. he swiftly dodges you, grabbing your wrist and then your other one when you try to pull a fast one on him, unsuccessfully. you grumble as you sit back down and if you weren’t as enamored with him as you somehow ended up being you’d have knocked that stupid smirk off his face. everything seems to be against you, including your heart.

he hums once you’ve sat back down “ooh, you mean when you told me you loved me, right ? s’that what you meant ?” he snickers, shit eating grin on his face. asshole, he’s not even trying to look innocent.

“you’re not funny.” you huff, crossing your arms and glaring at him. “ like, at all.”

“you’re right, i’m not.” he responds, leaning his forearms against your table “ i’m hilarious, actually.”

a part of you wishes you could punch him. hard. another louder part of you just wants to kiss his smug expression off his face, both options sound extremely tempting but one of them more than the other.

“hilariously stupid.” not your best retort, but you’ll take it. katsuki huffs out a laugh as you pout and look off to the side, you’re so fucking cute.

his smirk doesn’t fade as he keeps staring at you but his eyes soften as he leans in to rip your arms away from your chest “ relax, m’just fuckin’ witcha.”

“yeah. haha. funny.” you spit. katsuki starts getting actually worried he’d hurt your feelings and quickly tries redeeming himself. he pokes at your cheek once, twice and you swat his hand away when he goes for a third poke. then he leans forward so he can tickle your side and inwardly sighs in relief when you swat at his hand trying to hold back your laughter. the way he’s leaning against the table is a bit uncomfortable for him but as long as he keeps that warmth on your face he couldn’t care less.

he gets up and grabs his chair, dragging it against the floor causing it to squeak and making you cringe, you let out a noise of displeasure but katsuki doesn't look the least bit phased as he bring his chair to sit next to you.

his cheeks are red, you realize it now that he's sitting so much closer to you. he speaks after a moment of silence "so you meant it, yeah ? when you told me you.." he trails off at the end of his sentence. he's quieter than you're used to. there's a certain hopeful urgency in his eyes that has you shyly nodding your head in response.

he’s looking at you and you’re looking right back

“i meant it.” you whisper.

“i know.” he whispers back after a beat, before pressing his lips to yours.

the kiss lasts about 10 seconds before he pulls away, then leans in again for another, slightly longer one. when you separate your breathing a little heavy. you place your hand on his face and rub his cheek, admiring the way his eyelashes flutter slightly and how the feeling causes shivers to run up his spine. you can't help the goofy smile that pulls at your face and neither can he, you both chuckle slightly.

then you take a breath as if contemplating if what you were about to say was worth it. but katsuki knows you don't care and he's right because you say it anyway.

"we should go out for drinks to celebrate !" you giggle. he playfully rolls his eyes, pinching your side making you let out a squeal.

even though you call it a celebration katsuki knows it'll be the same charade as usual. you'll drink until you pass out and he'll bring you home. he'll help you clean up and take you to bed and have breakfast made for your hungover ass in the morning. but this time, you'll be his. and to katsuki, that's worth so much more than the headache he knows you'll give him.

1K notes · View notes

willows-peak · 9 months

Note

jjk boys reacting to getting a morning wood next to you

ANONNN UR MIND <3333

*･ﾟ✧ JJK Men With Morning Wood

tags: multi character x reader, fem! reader, morning sex, thigh fucking, humping, handjobs, male masturbation, mutual masturbation kinda, the ittiest bit of degradation in toji's

word count: 4.9k wowie zowie

a/n: eek my first request...so happy. this was so fun to write ty anon, im supes sorry it took so long to write! i may have gotten carried away,, also TYSM FOR 100 FOLLOWERS HOLY SHIT 🎉🎉🎉🎉should i do a milestone reward :o

NSFW UNDER CUT! MDNI

⋆｡˚ ♡ gojo: wakes you up and begs to fuck your thighs

Gojo woke with a startle, his body only lending him a few moments to adjust to his surroundings before he had to stifle a low groan into his palm, a dull, overpowering throb sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. He blearily glanced downwards to where he felt the heat starting to pool, his vision being blocked off by your body, pressed tight against his.

You were moving around in your sleep quite a bit, leg thrown across his own and arms wrapped tight around his chest. A quiet noise left his throat as he felt that jolt go through his body again, your hips moving up against his crotch just enough to graze across the head of his clothed cock, making him swear under his breath.

He'd found the culprit for his sudden awakening, but now comes the issue of taking care of it. The combination of sleepiness and horniness was making his head feel foggy, eyes darting around the softly lit room for any kind of distraction he could find for himself. Now he knew why you always made a fuss when he clung to you in bed, it was near impossible to move around and touch himself without waking you.

He bit his lip tightly as he felt his cock jump up in his boxers, eyes drifting back to your body innocently leaning onto his. The time on the clock read '10:20 am', much past the normal time you would wake up normally. You wouldnt be *too* upset if he just..?

"Baby.." he whispered, the arm encompassing your waist shifting forwards to jostle your still body, making you whine against his chest and hug him closer in defiance. "C'mon baby, get up." he said, moving you again and giving him a louder whine in response.

Through his persistence, your head turned up and poking out from the bumps of his naked chest, eyelids lowered as you slowly started to wake up

“G'morning beautiful, sorry to wake you up like this” he chuckled, brushing a small section of hair from your face as he watched your eyes travel downwards, to how his erection poked against your inner thigh. “You don't gotta do anything, just please-” Gojo shuddered as you slowly grinded up against his tent, your soft voice making the fog in his head worsen.

“Lemme fuck your thighs, alright baby? Please, it'll be quick, I promise” his chest rose up and down in quick, shallow breaths, stilling himself with all his might when the head of his dick slipped snuggly into the dip of your thighs, right underneath your panty clad pussy. “Please, sweet thing? I'll make you cum too, promise” he ran his hands down to your hip, pressing his lips together when you let out the softest moan.

Still too sleepy for talking, you nodded into his collarbones, spreading your legs apart enough for Gojo to slip inside them. Gojo almost moaned at the display in front of him, hushed praises and thanks coming from his lips as he hurriedly slipped down his pants and boxers, sighing in relief when the uncomfortable pressure of his underwear was finally gone.

Gojo's hand made quick work slipping his pants down to mid way down his thighs, moving his fingers to lightly press against the crotch of your panties. “Shit…” he whispered, feeling the way your pussy was already starting to wetten up for him. “Have a good dream about me, huh?” he teased, rubbing slow circles on your clit before replacing it with his length.

He could feel you clench around nothing through the thin fabric, a shudder erupting through his lower half as you slowly closed your legs back around his cock. He groaned under his breath at the warmth enveloping him, chuckling and pulling his hips back. “Shit, you feel good… where’s the lube, wanna make it feel better” he mumbled as he turned his body around to search through the drawers behind him, rummaging around loudly until he triumphantly brought out a small, almost empty bottle of clear liquid.

“Spread your legs again, this’ll make it feel good.” he spoke, a small *click* as he flipped the bottle open and squirted the liquid onto his deft fingers. As he massaged it into the plush of your thigh, his thumb caught underneath your panties, pulling the fabric to the side smoothly. His lubed fingers came to spread your lips open, the cold morning air blowing across your sensitive cunt and making you shiver from the exposure. ‘Satoruu..” you whined, feeling his cock slide up your thigh to rest right against your pussy.

“Close em, fuck, I don’ think I can stay still for long” he whispered, his large body coming to hold your lower half flush with his own. You whimpered and wordlessly followed what he asked, moaning softly at the feeling of his firm cock grazing *so* slowly across your pussy.

“That’s the shit, god.. such a good girl for me” Gojo whispered, his voice sultry and practically dripping with heat as he grinded up into your thighs, his dick gliding across the wetness of your pussy and perfectly rubbing against your clit. “Hold onto me baby, I’m not gonna be gentle.”

⋆｡˚ ♡ getou: kisses you awake and humps your leg

Getou carefully turned himself around, keeping note of your tight grip against his sides and letting himself relax back against the warm sheets as he shifted himself closer to you, his fingers coming to cradle your soft hair as his lips met with your face.

Ever since getting with you, Getou had gradually lost interest in getting himself off, especially in the mornings like this. he could feel the way his half hard erection slowly filled out his pants more as he drunk you in, his lips taking their time to press against each and every crevice of your face.

He could feel you start to stir, your soft eyelashes slowly cracking open to meet with his gaze, lowered with his pupils expanded to cover the majority of his eyes.

He pulled away just enough to give you room to yawn, his hand sliding down the front of his body to grope at his cock as you greeted him, voice crackly and quiet. "Good morning hun" Getou spoke, his voice gruff right against your ear as he resumed his onslaught of kisses.

"Mm-" you tried to get out a word of questioning as to why he was so affectionate, but your lips quickly turned into a home for Getou's, tenderly kissing you. You could feel low, muffled groans being thrust into your mouth as he lifted your face up to meet with his better. “Sugu-” you gasped, pulling away only to be hungrily brought back to his lips.

“Shh, stick out your leg f’ me, baby” Getou ordered, smiling when you wordlessly obeyed him. You gasped again as your knee brushed over his bulge, Getou’s free hand coming down to hold it still. “Feel that pretty girl?” he asked, watching you nod and try to press harder against him. “Think you can help out with this?” he offered, biting his lip in arousal at how quickly you agreed with his request.

His grip on your thigh loosened, just enough to give you the wiggle room to grind down into his erection. His raspy, deep voice filled your ears as he ground his hips down into your hard knee, hand climbing up to grope at your butt and snickering when you squeaked in surprise.

“So nasty..” you murmured, watching with bated breath as he caressed the back of your thigh tenderly. “Only for you, sweet girl… fuck, keep doin that-” he grunted out, your knee pressing up against his balls slightly as he humped against you.

He’d slipped up to grinding against the meat of your thigh by now, whispers of your name escaping from his lips as a small, barely noticeable spot of wetness started to seep through the fabric of his sweatpants. “Sugu, kiss me again, please” you begged, barely needing to wait before geto’s lips came crashing onto yours. His thick, hot tongue eagerly pressed through your parted lips, grinning into the kiss as his tongue twirled around yours.

Your body quickly flushed warmly under his strong hold, feeling how pulsed and ground hard against your thigh, your breath catching in your throat when his tongue dipped up to the roof of your mouth, licking along the length of it before pulling away for a gasp of air. “So fucking sexy, baby girl, god- say my name baby please” Getou moaned, the grinds against your thighs speeding up sloppily. Getou could never control himself when he got like this, so desperate for an orgasm he’d take anything you gave him as long as it got him off.

“Suguruuu-” you drew out your words, half moaning and half whining as he raised your leg to grind back down into your knee. “Yeah, that’s right, say it louder f’ me” Getou purred, panting as his hips thrusted down onto your leg. You spoke his name again, feeling your pussy thump in tandem with your heart at Getou’s husky moans filling the thick air around you two. “Wanna see me cum, beautiful?” he asked, voice lifting as his body grew closer to orgasm already. “Mmmhm, please Sugu lemme see”

Getou fumbled with the band of his sweatpants clumsily, pulling them down to reveal his flushed red cock, the stain of pre cum much bigger now against the dark gray cotton fabric. You squirmed as Getou slid his lubed cock onto your bare thigh, rubbing down against the warm, soft skin and shivering softly. “Keep your eyes here, got it?” He whispered, forehead pressed against yours as the two of you watched his hips quickly pick up pace against your leg, raunchy sounding groans and chants of your name falling from his lips carelessly.

“Shit- y’ so good to me baby, so fucking good” Getou stumbled out, hair falling around the two of you as his head bowed down in pleasure. “Touch it honey, please, wanna cum for you” You gasped in arousal, warmth pooling down in your stomach as you quickly stroked the base of his dick, letting your fingers caress down onto his balls when your palm reached the bottom.

“*F-fuck* yes, cumming, I’m cumming, oh my *god*-” Getou groaned loudly, body trembling and curling into itself as his cock throbbed harshly against your thigh, cum leaking out of his tip and coating the skin of your leg and your hand. You slowed your hand down as Getou rode out his orgasm onto you, uneven bucks and thrusts up against you making you whimper under your breath from how hot you felt.

Getou continued to let out broken noises as his orgasm slowly simmered down, weakly grinding down into the puddle of cum he’d made. He let out fast, shuddered breaths as he rested against you, rubbing your thigh and kissing your forehead gently. Getou used his free hand to cup your chin, lifting it up to meet with his foggy, pleasure hazed eyes. “Don’t worry honey…I’m not done yet” Getou purred, gaze falling down to the way your thighs squeeze together.

⋆｡˚ ♡ nanami: jerks himself off to not disturb your beauty sleep

Nanami let out a drawn out sigh as he snuck his hand downwards, carefully scooting the blankets aside for his hand to get under them. He was hard, and badly at that. And while he didn’t at all blame you for this, he’d noticed that he’s started getting more intense morning wood when you’re with him, leading to him having to carefully wrap his hand around his erection and get himself off without waking you up.

He also, never seemed to realize he could simply turn over and plop you down on the empty bed space next to him until after he was done, discreetly wiping himself off and nudging you awake. He has to pretend he doesn’t know why it slips his mind, even though he knows good and well why he chooses this riskier route.

Some gross, locked away part of him loves thinking about waking you up by feeling his thick cock pressed against your hole through your panties, his hand quickly stroking himself through orgasm as you moaned at the wet feeling of his cum soaking you. Knowing you, he’d be met with the sweetest moan of his name as the after shocks of his orgasm faded over his body, pressing your hips down against his abdomen.

He held back a noise at that thought, his fingers finally ghosting over his pre cum soaked tip, rubbing small circles across the hole of it before working his way down his shaft. He focused on keeping his breathing steady as you dozed off on his chest.

Staring at the ceiling above him as he bit his lip with concentration. You were, thankfully, not a light sleeper, but he’d rather avoid the embarrassing notion of you waking up to him like *this*.

Nanami had done this many many times before, so he knew exactly what to think of to get himself off quick. Not that it ever took long with you, he could count the amount of times he’d nearly cum on the spot when you shimmied your panties off, a string of wetness clinging to your sensitive, pulsating cunt, your swollen clit peeking between the pink-ish folds. The few times when he’d come home tired and ready to either crash into your arms or the bed, when you’d so lovingly take care of him by riding the soul out of his body.

God, he wanted that so badly right now, watching your ass ripple from how hard you were slamming down onto his cock, moaning his name as he felt your hole twitch around him, the unmistakable way you’d quiver and still yourself as you came around his cock, whimpering and squeaking out high pitched little noises as he fucked up into you through your orgasm.

*‘Later’* Nanami promised to himself, feeling his chest begin to rise and fall rapidly as his hand pumped his cock, holding back sighs and grunts of pleasure as his arm stood as still as possible, his wrist rapidly falling up and down as he fisted his cock.

His hands rapidly squeezed along his thick shaft, desperate to mimic the way your pussy would clamp down so tightly when he bottomed out inside of you.

He was quick to move his hand off your waist, and over his mouth as he nearly moaned out loud at the thought, silently cursing his memory for being so detailed in this moment. He froze stiffly as he felt you start to stir in your sleep, sleepily reaching out before he joined his hand with yours. He sighed shakily, speaking lowly to not wake you further, his hand still grazing across the sensitive veins alongside his cock. “Shh, go back to sleep dear, I’m here.” He could almost laugh at how easily you fell limp back against him, your breathing slowing back down and a one off snore leaving your throat.

He gently held onto your hand, the fist still around his cock now picking up speed, wet sounds being poorly muffled through the blanket as he leaned his head back against the pillows. The adrenaline from just now only fueled onto his racing heart and sensitivity, hand clamping down onto yours as he could start to feel his orgasm quickly approaching him.

His teeth grit together subtly, holding back swears as his legs tensed up, his fist slapping loudly down against his dick as his stomach tightened. “Shit-” he swore, his orgasm overtaking him before he could prepare for it. His fist rushed up to close down over his dick, covering his tip as it leaked out thick spurts of his cum. He held his breath in his throat as he trembled, pressure mixing wildly with the fading anxiety of being caught and the pleasure of his hand pushing down across his girth.

He let out a deep sigh as fresh air filled his lungs, his heartbeat loud and clear in his ears while his cock started to soften. He breathed out in relief, glancing downwards at your peaceful figure, none the wiser at what he’d done.

Now, to clean this up before you stirred again..

⋆｡˚ ♡ toji: tries to will it away bc he doesnt feel like taking care of it, doesnt work. u wake up and take care of it for him

Toji grunted under his breath at yet another twitch of his erection, rubbing almost painfully against the starch material of his boxers. He'd been laying like this for a while now, achingly hard with you happily snoozing on his chest, unaware of the predicament he was in.

The rational decision to make here would be to wake you up, or even reach into his pants and get himself off, but it was a *little* hard to do that when one shuffle of his leg got him a whine of complaint and you shimmying back up on his body, getting yourself comfy again before falling back asleep.

And since Toji was *such* a gentleman, how could he disturb your beauty sleep and get himself off?

"Fuckin' hell..." Toji spoke softly, the pressure of your warm body laying on top of him, giving his dick the barest hint of stimulation driving him mad, slowly but surely. There was always the idea of grinding his hips up and jerking himself off with the plush of your thighs, but he knew that'd only result in you grumpily waking up from his cum coating you, glaring at him with those sweet eyes of yours, wiggling your pretty hips over his softening cock, and drowsily cursing him out for wasting his load on your leg like that-

A sharp pulse through his dick ceased his thoughts, making him loudly groan into the morning air. He heard you make a small squeak at the sudden sound, looking down and smirking. “Mornin’ princess” he greeted, his low voice carrying through the quiet air, much to your displeasure. “Y'ur hard…” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes and leaning your hips back to cradle over his tent.

Toji grunted at the feeling of you lazily grinding down against him, laughing and placing his hands behind his head. “Yeah, I am. Whatcha wanna do about it?” his lips cracked open into a toothy grin, watching the way you sleepily glowered up at him, raising yourself up by the arms and pushing yourself backwards on his lap.

You stifled a yawn into your arm, your ass colliding with Toji’s sturdy abs and making you lose your balance for a small second, your eyes shooting open on instinct. “Careful, now” Toji replied, ever the helpful one as he looked you up and down decidedly. Despite your attitude in the mornings, Toji loved when you got like this, moody, sulking from being awake 'so early' as you'd put it, but not ever hesitating to make him cum all over your pretty fingers.

“You couldn't do it y'self?” you asked accusingly, now seated right below Toji's bulge, your smaller hand pressing down against his length. “Nah, you do it better” Toji said snarkily, watching your eyes roll as you slipped down his sweatpants. For as annoyed as you always looked when he woke you up with his hard on, your eyes almost glittered from how wide they'd get, staring at his thick cock poking out from the band of his underwear.

“Go on mamas, it won't bite.” He teased, groaning under his breath at your hands quickly pulling the last piece of clothing off him, your fingers pinching over his tip to lube his cock with his pre cum. “Dirty girl..” he commented, his voice much too confident for your liking. “Zip it.” you glared up at him, watching him run his pointer and thumb across his mouth in a zipper motion, the silence immediately being broken when you squeezed your hand around the base of his cock.

With a kiss of your teeth, you quickly began jerking him off, your hand twisting up near the tip before slamming back down at the base, making him let out a pleased moan. He knew you loved when he got vocal, so he made sure to put a little more effort into telling you how good you were doing for him. His sugar sweet girl, so cute even when she was being so slutty like this, manicured nails struggling to meet as they stretched over the girth of his fat dick. Your cheeks flushed as you continued, trying to subtly wiggle your hips as his words sent jolts of arousal straight to your cunt.

“Don’t stop, baby, fuck-” Toji let out, head tilting to the side as he never took his eyes off of you. “You better make this up t’ me, Toji” You murmured, cheeks feeling hot at his heavy gaze, making you feel surrounded by him even as you laid across his flexed thighs. “Oh yeah? You want me to fuck you with my fingers after you make me cum? Make that pretty pussy squirt?” You barely stifled a whine at his brash words, Toji laughing under his breath when he felt the way you tried to grind down against him.

“Yeah, that’s what my girl wants. Fuck, c’mon and make daddy cum, lemme get my hands on you.” Toji groaned, chest rising up and down as you added your other hand to stroke him. He swore at the sight, his brain fogging with arousal at how even your two hands struggled to handle his dick. Toji’s mouth struggled to stay closed as he could practically *feel* how desperate you were now through the way your hands moved, milking his dick effortlessly and making the coil in his stomach tighten fast.

“Fuck- open your mouth baby, yeah that’s it, *shit*-” Toji’s arms came down to grip at your hair, holding your head still as your tongue lolled out of your mouth, drool beginning to run down the tip of it as he came on your face. You watched through your lashes at how his eyes rolled back, hand covering his face as he groaned lowly, warm cum coming out quickly and covering your lips.

Your hands came to a stop when Toji’s iron grip on your hair loosened, his body falling back against the bed as you swallowed what had gotten in your mouth. You made a small sound of annoyance as your hand was now covered in Toji’s cum, your thumb rubbing against your plush lip and gathering a stray drop of cum from them. Glancing back down at your boyfriend, you could see him facing you yet again, a grin making its way back onto his face.

You yelped loudly as you felt your body get dragged up Toji’s body, hovering over his stomach with your legs spread open widely. “Whatcha doing with your panties still on? C’mon baby, show me what I wanna see.” Toji purred, licking his lips when you shyly brushed the crotch of your underwear to the side. “*That’s* right…”

⋆｡˚ ♡ choso: wakes up and asks if he can fuck you

soft clicking across a keyboard filled choso's ears as his brain slowly came into conscious, a vision of you seated on your side of the bed, leaning back comfortably against the pillows as you typed away at your laptop. choso let out a shocked sound as he tried to scoot closer to you, his pajamas unreasonably tight around his crotch and making his body shiver with sensitivity.

You paused your writing at the noise, shutting it and turning your head over to him. "Good morning cho" You smiled down at him, the morning glow of the sun casting highlights across your chest and collarbones, the loose fitting night gown you sported hiding nothing from Choso's rapidly growing imagination. He felt his leg twitch up at another jerk up against the cotton of his pants, a quiet gasp getting pushed from his lips in surprise.

Your laptop had been placed on the floor by the bed at this point, your body turned over to face Choso while your fingers went to caress his flushed cheeks. “‘M hard” he croaks out softly, making you giggle and nod “I can tell, baby.” he pushes himself up with his forearm slowly, moaning under his breath when his dick grazed against his thigh. “Need you, c’mere, please” he rasped out, tossing the blanket off of him and watching how your eyes dropped down to his tent.

Your body quickly came to lay back down next to his, lifting your nightgown up to reveal your bare body underneath. Choso moaned shamelessly at how you looked, running his hands across your soft stomach all the way down to the small slit hidden between your thighs. “Thank you, thank you, gonna make you feel good, promise-” he purred out, leaning down to kiss you as his thick fingers quickly made their way to pulling down his pants.

“So needy, aren't you baby?” you teased lightly, watching excitedly as Choso’s hard cock bounced out of his boxers, slapping the dip of his abs with a quiet ‘pwip’ sound. He nodded along breathlessly, hands gripping the fabric of his underwear tightly as you spread your legs, grinding your bare pussy down against his shaft. You shuddered when you felt it twitch up against you, Choso poorly hiding a whine into his hand as he grabbed your hips, pressing his lips together and pulling his underwear down to his knees.

Your nightgown, previously bunched up midway up your tummy, was now being pulled off leisurely by you, Choso quickly coming to cup his hand underneath your chest. “Yes yes, thank you, won’t take long I promise- *ohh god*” he spoke, voice unsteady and breathy as he prodded his tip against your hole, eyes threatening to roll up when he felt how easily you sucked him in.

You moved your hips down to meet with his cautious thrusts up, tightening around him as he slowly, so slowly inched his way inside of you. “Haahh- so tight” Choso vocalized, looking up into your eyes as he started to bottom out inside you. Choso had been made aware he was *much* bigger than average, so he’s always been extra careful when sheathing inside of you, mind being driven into filth at the way your pussy would so eagerly swallow him up, hole stretched wide over the base of his dick, your wetness seeping out and coating the front of his balls.

“Need this so badly, need you” Choso chanted, your name feeling like pure sugar on his tongue as he moaned it. The way you felt, stretched taught all the way down to the bottom of his dick, wet and hot and tight as he reeled his hips back, sighing out so softly as he kissed along your neck made his body feel tingly with pleasure.

To Choso’s credit, he was honest when he said he wouldn’t take long. With a simple plea in his ear, and a clench down around him, he was wordlessly rutting up into you, his thumb coming down to rub quick circles across your swollen clit. Breathless little ‘ah- ah- ah’s’ spilled from his lips into your shoulder as your leg hooked around his waist, hugging him close as he sloppily fucked into you.

“Sorry, ‘m already, *ah* already close, can I? Inside?” Choso asked, his words broken and strained as his hips effortlessly rammed up into your pussy, filling it out so perfectly that it was impossible not to dumbly nod along with anything Choso asked for. His eyes sparkled as they started to get misty, teeth clenching together while his hands held your hips still, abs tightening as his body chased after his orgasm that was rapidly approaching.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, go-” Choso’s begs were cut off by your lips crashing down into his, his moans being drank down by you as he came instantly, shaking in your grasp as he thrusted up deeply into your pussy. The thumb on your clit never stopped as he came, stroking it alongside the bottom of the nub and whining at how it made you tighten down around him. “S-so *good*, can’ stop, plea-se” Choso cried into you, his arms stiffening into a tight grip that left no room to squirm or move away from him.

You whimpered and squeaked at Choso’s uneven, rapid thrusts up into you, his tip threatening to kiss your cervix as he sloppily rode out his orgasm inside you. You could feel the way his full balls emptied out as he grinded his hips down inside you, low groans vibrating against the skin of your neck and making you shiver when they reached your ear. You needily bucked up into him as his fingers pressed down onto your clit, eyelids lowering as your own orgasm was starting to form, just barely. Though, the feeling of tension left as soon as it came, Choso stopping his movements when he was done emptying his load inside of you

You made a noise of discontent as Choso’s thumb moved away from your pussy, clenching down weakly as he pulled out his softening cock from inside you. “Cho…I was gonna cum” You moaned, grunting as he flipped you onto your back. “I know..lemme use my mouth, please?” Choso uttered gently, his body crouched between your spread legs, with his eyes wide and hopeful staring up at you. You resisted the urge to smile as you nodded, shivering at how fast he dipped his head down between your legs

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #geto x reader #toji x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #choso kamo #toji fushiguro #fem reader

2K notes · View notes

katsu28 · 3 months

Text

first time for everything

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: a lot of things were in the cards for oscar’s first home race. he just wasn’t expecting confessing his love for you to be one of them. (3.3k)

warnings: maybe a swear word idk

a/n: my first oscar fic! not sure if i've got his personality down quite yet but hopefully i've done him justice :)

“You’re nervous.”

Oscar tore his attention from his phone camera, where he was messing with the swoop of his hair for what had to be the fifth time. He shook his head, though you could probably see right through him. “No, I’m not—I just didn’t sleep that well last night.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were nervous for today.”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s okay to be nervous, Oscar. I’d be more worried if you weren’t.”

You were right, he was nervous about a lot of things—this weekend was his first home race, the first race you were able to attend during his time as a driver for McLaren. But the first thing he learned from competing at this level was to never let his nerves show. Put up a front, make it seem like he was cool as a cucumber so people wouldn’t doubt him, let his skills on the track do all the talking.

Normally, Oscar was good about that. But you could see right through him. You knew him well enough to know how he was feeling and how to help, even if he himself didn’t quite understand it.

The story of you and Oscar was quite the cliche, really. He knew of you through a friend of a friend and was instantly intrigued without even meeting you, managed to reach out, and the rest was history.

You hadn’t even met each other face to face until a month into your constant texting, but when you did finally find the opportunity to meet up in person, it was like you’d both found the other half of yourselves in each other. While Oscar was more of a straight to the point, cut and dry kind of guy, you managed to bring him out of his shell a little bit, to get him to expand his horizons (within reason, of course).

You were the opposite—always smiling, always happy to try new things, warm and sunshine-y and everything in between. Oscar toned you down without holding you back, reminded you to take a breather before immediately jumping into the next exciting thing, to enjoy what you had while you had it so you wouldn’t miss anything.

He’d only just gained the courage to ask you out a few months back, but it only seemed fitting that you were here with him for his first race in front of his home crowd.

“It’s a lot to process.” Oscar admitted, letting his shoulders creep up towards his ears in a shrug. You leaned against him, looping an arm through the crook of his elbow and slipping your hand into his for a reassuring squeeze, pressing your chin against his bicep. “I just don’t wanna let anyone down, y’know? Wanna make everyone proud.”

“You’re going to do great. I promise.” You said firmly, reaching up to push his hair into its perfect place. Oscar nuzzled into your touch on instinct, letting you cradle his cheek in the palm of your hand. Your thumb swept over his cheek a few times, lulling him into a sense of contentment.

“Forget me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m excited! I’ve never done something like this before.” You replied, letting your hand drop. “And kinda nervous, but it’ll be fine, right?”

“Yeah, ‘course it will.”

“Have any sage words of wisdom for a first time paddock goer?”

“Oh, you know me. Keep your head down, walk fast. There’s gonna be a lot of cameras, lots of fans, they’re all gonna want something from you. I’ll be with you as long as I can, so I’ll be there in case things start to get out of hand.”

“Can I say hi to the fans?”

“If you want to, yeah. They already love you.”

That was another thing Oscar had to be worried about. Today was a day full of firsts, it felt like, because it was also the first time you’d be making your public debut as a couple. You’d already become a fan favorite when the two of you were just friends (two very mutually pining friends, no less), but making your relationship paddock official seemed daunting.

Oscar wasn’t at all worried about what people would think. In fact, he didn’t really care. He was happier than he’d been in a long time and nothing would change that. What he was worried about was how you’d be treated. Oscar loved the fans, he really did, but there were always that handful who thought they knew him—knew what was best for him. Knew who was best for him.

If he could protect you from any harm that could possibly be aimed your way, he’d do it in a heartbeat, but things could get so very unpredictable out there. The best he could do was keep you close.

Your grip on Oscar’s hand tightened just the slightest bit at seeing the sheer amount of people outside the window. Noticing this, he rubbed his thumb along your knuckles soothingly.

“You don’t have to come along.” He said softly. You tore your eyes away from the passing crowds to look at him. “There’s a back entrance, you can go through there.”

“No, it’s alright! I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? It’s okay if you're having second thoughts, sweetheart.”

“I’m not, I promise. It’s kind of a lot, but nothing I can’t handle.” You said firmly, more for yourself than anything. Oscar squeezed your hand with a soft smile. “If you can do it, I can do it.”

“There you go. You’ll be the star of the show. Everyone’ll be like Oscar Piastri who? There’s the most beautiful girl in the world, and just some guy.”

You had to bite back a laugh at his words paired with the deadpan expression gracing his face. Oscar always seemed to know how to get you to relax.

“Well, you’re the hottest just some guy I’ve ever seen.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling at how his fair skin immediately flamed hot under your lips.

Despite your previous hesitation, you looked entirely in your element as you made the walk hand in hand, looking around with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. Oscar couldn't help but watch you take it all in, not bothering to mask the awe in his eyes as he did so. He wouldn’t be surprised if photos of him looking at you made it to fan Twitter by the end of the day.

Oscar was whisked away as soon as you got through to hospitality, giving him barely enough time to say goodbye to you before he was shuttled to meeting after meeting, press conferences and pre race interviews, a thousand things to do in the few hours he had before he had to get ready for free practice.

He was already exhausted by the time he made it back to his driver’s room, pushing open the door with a heaving sigh. You glanced up at the commotion he was making, smiling at him warmly and setting aside your phone.

“Hey, you,” You hummed, holding out your arms towards Oscar as soon as he closed the door behind him.

“Hi.” Oscar sighed, folding you into his embrace as comfortably as he could in the cramped alcove. There was barely enough room for one person on the bench, let alone you and your boyfriend with his broad shoulders. You shifted sideways to solve the problem, throwing your legs over Oscar’s lap, to which his hand immediately came to rest on your knee. “I missed you.”

“Wish I could say the feeling was mutual.” You teased. Oscar rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, giving your leg a gentle pinch that you giggled at before leaning in to press a quick peck to his cheek. “I missed you too.”

“What did you get up to while I was gone?”

“Oh, so much! I took a walk around the paddock just to check everything out, and I kinda got lost, but someone helped me find my way back eventually.” You shrugged, not noticing the way Oscar’s eyebrows flew up into his hairline.

“Wait, you got lost? Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were busy.” You said, very as-a-matter-of-factly. He blinked at you slowly, a blank expression present on his face. “I’m a big girl, Osc, I can find my way around just fine.”

That made Oscar falter. You were right. He cared so much, especially about you—so much so that sometimes he forgot you were entirely capable of taking care of yourself.

“A lot of people asked to take pictures with me. Me! Isn’t that crazy?” You exclaimed, beaming bright. “I promised one of them your sweaty fireproofs in return, but that’s beside the point.”

“You what?” He spluttered, eyes widening almost comically. His fingers froze in their fiddling with the rings adorning your fingers.

“I’m kidding, obviously. Lighten up, Oscie, jeez.”

Oscar rolled his eyes playfully. “Right, well I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“You know what would make this day even more fun?”

“I don’t think I want to.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before continuing. “Can I meet Charles Leclerc? Is that something you can pull off?”

Technically speaking, it would be extremely easy for him to pull off. All he really had to do was bring you over to the Ferrari motorhome for a quick introduction, and he was sure Charles would take a liking to you, just like every other driver you’d gotten to meet so far. You had that kind of persona; one that made people want to get to know you.

Oscar quite liked that about you. What he wouldn’t like as much was you being immediately wooed by the driver’s seemingly irresistible French charm. And yeah, you were Oscar’s girlfriend and Charles also had a girlfriend of his own, but still. Nobody wanted to see the girl they loved fawning over another man, even one as cool as Charles Leclerc.

But Oscar would never tell you that, because he loved you, and he’d do anything to make you happy.

“Uh…yeah, sure. I could probably get you an intro, if that’s something you really want.” He heard himself saying, scratching the back of his neck. His heart thudded a little harder in his chest at the way your face lit up.

“Really?”

Oscar smiled tightly. “Why not? D’you wanna go now? There’s some time before we need to be on track.”

“That would be amazing, Osc.”

“Right then, let’s go.” He nudged your legs off him, heaving himself to his feet with a groan that would usually be associated with someone much older than him. You threaded your fingers through his as soon as he finished popping all his joints like an old man, following his lead out of the room and the motorhome, all the way to the bright Ferrari red building a few doors down.

Luckily, Charles was sitting at one of the tables in the main area, so you didn’t have to look far to find him.

“Charles, mate, you got a second?”

The aforementioned Monegasque tore his attention from his phone upon hearing Oscar’s voice, an easygoing smile already present on his face. “Oscar! What can I do for you, mate?” His eyes found you next, and he nodded politely. “Hello!”

“Hi.” You said quietly, clinging to Oscar’s hand tightly. This feeling was foreign to you. You’d never been so stunned into silence by someone before, but maybe that was because you’d never met someone as well known as the Charles Leclerc.

“This is my girlfriend. It’s her first time in the paddock and she’s a big fan of yours, figured I could introduce the two of you. Y/N, Charles. Charles, Y/N.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard much about you!” Charles exclaimed, popping to his feet. He moved forward to embrace you, wrapping you in a warm hug like he’d known you for a long time, let alone just met you not even fifteen seconds ago.

Oscar never really understood the whole hugging thing Charles had going on. Maybe it was a French thing. Either way, the hug seemed to have shaken you out of whatever starstruck daze you were in, because you straightened up.

Charles smiled warmly. “Welcome to your first race. I trust they are treating you well over at McLaren?”

“There’s definitely a few perks.” You replied, returning his infectious smile. You squeezed Oscar’s hand as you said it, and part of him felt a smidge proud that you considered him a perk. Charles laughed goodnaturedly. “I hate to sound so forward, but I wanted to say I love your music. The way you play piano is…the only way I can think to describe it is beautiful.”

“Oh wow, you—thank you! That means a lot, thank you. Do you play?”

“A little bit, but I haven’t had much time to sit at the bench lately.” You replied, giving a haphazard shrug. Charles nodded sympathetically, like he understood the troubles of carving out time to play. “D’you mind if I ask you a bit more about your inspiration while I’ve got you?”

“Of course, yes, yes, I would love to talk about it!”

Oscar touched a hand to the small of your back to snag your attention for a second. He liked music as much as the next person, but not as much as you and Charles, it seemed. “I’ll be over there.”

You nodded, popping up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before returning to your animated conversation with Charles.

Now, Oscar wasn’t a jealous guy by any means. On the contrary he was always quite calm and collected, so he thought he’d be fine. Secretly a little miffed, sure. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, but actually seeing you go starry eyed while talking to Charles sparked something inside him. He didn’t know how hard he was squeezing the can in his hand until he felt liquid trickling down the sleeve of his fireproofs.

“Ah, shit.” He muttered, shaking out his arm frustratedly.

“Stare at her any harder and she might burst into flames, mate.”

Oscar glanced to his left to see Lando standing there, arms crossed over his chest, expectant brow arched.

“Dunno know what you’re talking about.” Oscar grumbled, moving to toss the now crumpled can into the nearest rubbish bin. Lando looked wildly unconvinced. “What?”

“Don’t feed me that shit, Oscar, you’re way too easy to read for me to believe you’re not absolutely fucking in love with Y/N.”

Oscar made an offended noise from the back of his throat. “I am not easy to read.”

“Mate, you’re the openest book in the history of open books right now.”

“Openest isn’t a word.”

“Whatever! Stop deflecting.” Lando scoffed, wrinkling his nose. “You love her. Tell her that.”

“I can’t. I mean, I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“What if it’s too soon? What if she doesn’t feel the same way yet?”

“You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.” Lando groaned, letting his head tilt back in exasperation. Oscar squinted at him, unamused. “Oh, you’re serious? Mate, come on. Just today, in the half a day I’ve known her, I’ve seen the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. I see the way you look at her when she’s not looking. It’s obvious. You’re both obnoxiously in love with each other, and it’s sickening.”

The corners of Oscar’s mouth lifted into a grin. “Really?”

“Oh my god, yes, really. I mean honestly, how dense can you be?”

“A lot, it seems.” Oscar cast another glance at you, feeling a lot better than he had a few minutes ago. You were laughing at something Charles had said, but now all that was running through his mind was how pretty you looked when you laughed. How happy you looked talking to a person you held a lot of admiration for. Professional admiration, nothing more.

Part of him felt a little guilty. He should’ve been supportive the whole time, not sulking around being a jealous little prick thinking you would ever choose Charles over him.

“No point in overthinking it now, bro.”

“Since when did you become such a wise old man?”

“Oi, watch it, you muppet. I’m only two years older than you.” Lando huffed, rolling his eyes. “And I’ve always been wise, thank you for noticing.”

“Sure you have.”

“Tell her.”

Oscar nodded once, accepting the clap on the shoulder Lando gave him. “I will. Thank you.”

“Of course. And if you ever need any more advice, come on down to Lando’s love shack, where you can get—”

“Leave now, I’m begging you.” Lando took the hint, wandering away to go wreak havoc somewhere else, leaving Oscar alone with his own thoughts as he waited for you to finish up. It wasn’t long until you were making your way back over, practically aglow with excitement as you approached him. “Made a new best friend, have you?”

You snorted, clearly amused. “Oh, of course. We’ve already arranged to go on a double date when we’re all in Monaco at the same time.”

“Ha ha, very funny. You do know Ferrari’s one of our top competitors, right?” Oscar laced his fingers through yours once more, letting your joined hands swing between the two of you as you walked.

“You know what they say—keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Consider my blossoming friendship with Charles your way into the heart and soul of Ferrari’s strategies. You’re welcome.”

You were just joking, of course, and it made Oscar smile. Lando was right. Oscar was in love with you. He tugged you off the main path suddenly, leading you to a more secluded area between motorhomes.

“Osc? What’re you—” You were entirely cut off by him stopping in his tracks, and before you could comprehend what was happening, he was kissing you. He curled a hand around the back of your neck, the other coming up to cup your cheek gently.

It was by all means a sweet kiss, but a completely unexpected one nonetheless. Oscar had never been a public display of affection sort of guy before, so for him to kiss you out of the blue where anyone could see you…well, let's just say there was a first time for everything.

To say you were taken aback was an understatement. You let out a noise of surprise, but returned his kiss wholeheartedly as soon as you realized what was happening.

“That was new.” You breathed as soon as he pulled away, splaying your palms across the firm plane of his chest to steady yourself after he’d kissed the living daylights out of you. Oscar’s eyes fluttered open slowly, a dazed grin stretching his lips. “You feeling alright, babe?”

“I love you.”

Immediately, you beamed, lighting up faster than a bonfire on a warm Melbourne night. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s about damn time you said it.” You poked his chest playfully, stifling a giggle at the way he did the biggest double take ever at your words.

“You—hang on, what?”

“I was waiting for you to be the one to say it first.” You shrugged. Oscar’s brow scrunched in confusion now. “Didn’t wanna scare you off and lose one of the best things in my life.”

“So…you do feel the same way?”

You reached up, smoothing a stray curl away from his forehead fondly. “Do I love you? ‘Course I do. I think I’ve loved you since the first time we met.”

“That was a good one, I should’ve said that. You’re so much better at this than I am.”

“What can I say? I’ve got the best just some guy as my inspiration.”

“I see what you did there. That’s gonna become a thing now, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Osc,” You sighed, patting his cheek affectionately. “It already has.”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #oscar piastri x you #op81 #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastric fic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri one shot

821 notes · View notes

silkjade-archived · 1 year

Text

alhaitham x mermaid! reader (3.5)

⤀ cw: afab!reader, first time (w. him), lots of teasing, cunnilingus, praise, fingering, unprotected sex, lil bit of size kink + overstim, creampie, fluff???, true love but they don't know it yet — mdni || ꒰ 6.2k wc ꒱ a/n: recommended to read the previous part first, but it can stand alone as well ! hope u enjoy my smut debut + reblogs & feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡ next ﾉ series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

When you had taken him up on his half conscious, pseudo challenge to visit Sumeru City, Alhaitham never imagined you’d cause him so much trouble. It’s not in the sense that you’d drawn too much unwanted attention, or that you’d spent his mora on frivolous things. No, it was your lack of understanding for the human notions of shame and intimacy.

He’s never entirely sure of just how nuanced the unabashed things you say and do are. You’re shameless whenever you’d ask him for compliments point-blank, or when you’d waltz out of the bathroom only half-dressed in his clothes. Other times, you’d surprise him with words so naively honest, brush against him in ways that feel far too tender.

To his dismay, it’s becoming increasingly clear that your actions always come with a price—one that he pays, not with mora, but with his dignity. Much like the smooth caress of the waters you came from, it’s all seemingly harmless, but the depths of your intentions remain aggravatingly unknown. Especially when your very presence is enough to enfold all his senses in a lull of desire.

He runs a hand through his hair before turning the knob of his bedroom door, only to find you in your human form, lounging on his bed, lazily flipping through one of his books. The robe you wear is one of his; too large on your frame, with the silky material falling off your shoulders, dangerously close to revealing too much.

Not that it isn’t a welcome sight—he is a man after all. And while he prides himself on his exceptional self control, it becomes an issue when he feels himself grow hot and the loose clothes he likes to wear at home begins to feel too tight. He can’t rub one out while you’re here, so perhaps a cold shower might ease his condition…

But you’re more perceptive than he’s given you credit for.

“It’s not as magnificent as my tail, but this body is still quite impressive isn’t it?”

“I’ve never met anyone as shameless as you.”

…

“Well, I don’t think you’ve ever met anyone like me at all.” You flash him an amused smile, but the sultry look in your eyes relay a different message entirely. He can’t lie, it excites him.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he mumbles under his breath. To his chagrin, your curious hum cuts through the room and he hears the heavy thud of a book slammed shut.

Of course you heard him. With renewed interest, you swing your legs over the edge of his bed, sauntering over until you’re close enough that he can smell the faint scent of his mint shampoo in your hair.

“Oh? What could I possibly be doing to you?” Your fingers walk up his body, slowly, from his toned stomach to his chiseled chest, leaving his skin hot through the fabric of his clothes, “Won’t you enlighten me?”

You look up, that wide-eyed gaze of feigned innocence flickering into something sharp and dangerously seductive. A hand settles on his shoulder, pulling him in until you’re close enough that your lips are only a hair’s breadth away from his sensitive ears. The other reaches down and ghosts against his obviously growing bulge, before pressing down, palming him through his pants. Alhaitham bites back a groan.

“Or rather, what would you like to do to me?” Your voice rings low and smooth as silk to his ears. It leaves a wave of desire to bubble in the pit of his stomach, one that doubles down on the dull ache at his crotch.

His mind sifts through a thousand thoughts. Lascivious thoughts, sinful, perverted thoughts that only seem to make their presence known when in your company. Just one glance down at you and he can see how ridiculously easy it would be to untie the lazy knot that’s hardly holding your—no—his robe together.

“I…”

It’s hard to think when you overwhelm all his senses, poking at the urges he has so carefully suppressed up until now. His robe, his scent. He’s no fool to the way Sumeru City ogles at you—the mysterious stranger who’s able to so casually hang onto the aloof scribe’s arm. It only makes him want to stake his claim across the empty canvas of your skin as well: his mermaid. Perhaps just this once, he’ll let himself indulge in his own selfish desires.

“Come on, Scribe Alhaitham,” you emphasize,“use your words.”

A smug smile forms on your face as you calculate the risks of your next words.

“Although…if you’ve got nothing to say, why don’t you just show me,” you press close, voice deceptively soft. “I’m more of a hands-on learner anyway.”

For once, Alhaitham lets his body override all sense of rationality, flipping your positions, and pinning you against the wall as he captures your mouth in his. It’s uncharacteristically sloppy and haphazard, with none of the craftiness he displayed on that first and only night you kissed, but it’s intoxicating all the same.

His teeth graze against your bottom lip, demanding entrance, and you’re forced to grasp onto his toned bicep to keep yourself steady as you devour each other with the intensity of all your repressed thoughts. With every second his mouth remains slotted on yours, with every inhale and exhale of breath you exchange, you think that this time, you’re the one who might drown.

He finally tosses you a lifeline once he decides to leave the vicinity of your mouth, and begin his campaign across the rest of your body, starting with the little spot right along the underside of your jaw. Alhaitham takes his time trailing down your neck, catching you off guard when he stops to suck down, hard, on a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

An involuntary gasp escapes, and you can feel him smirk against you, though it quickly fades into a half strangled groan when your hips roll into his. He only continues downward from here, carving kisses into your body and leaving behind colorful little bruises that send liquid fire running through your veins. The further he goes, the more he must uncover, and the only thing standing in his way is the robe you’re hardly wearing.

“Can I…?” he asks in a hoarse whisper, fingers already toying with the sash.

“Not like you haven’t seen everything already,” you mutter, pulling his face in to kiss him again.

His free hand snakes down to squeeze your ass while the other tugs on the loose knot, the silky material now free to tumble down your body like a waterfall, hitting every curve along the way. In one fell swoop, Alhaitham takes you to his bed, picking up right where he left off: with a depraved kiss that speaks more than he ever could in relaying the underlying lust that clouds his mind.

“Beautiful.” The word slips out without a second thought. It’s the first time he's ever said it outright. Beneath the fervor, there’s a special sentiment that cushions his tone. It has you buzzing with warmth from the inside out, but whether it’s contentment or embarrassment, you don’t know. Biting your lip, you turn your head to the side, refusing to meet his gaze.

He finds it infinitely amusing that for all your openly brazen flirtations…

“You’re not getting shy on me now, are you?”

You respond by stubbornly grappling at the edge of his shirt, nails grazing against his muscled abdomen in the process. The startling sensation crackles through his nerves, sending his cockhead twitching in delight.

“It’s only fair I get to see you too,” you mumble, in what little time you have between kisses. Alhaitham pulls away, a brow quirked in mild amusement. Pausing, he takes this chance to drink in the sight of your naked figure for the second time, though tonight there’s no need to look away.

It’s exhilaratingly surreal to see your body marked by the undeniable testaments of his touch. It manifests on your skin, where you’re decorated with clusters of little bruises signed by his lips. In your chest, as it heaves for air after all the breaths he’s stolen from right out of your lungs. It persists in the way your eyes draw him in, inviting him, daring him to do more. In how your lips, though slightly swollen, wear the same coquettish grin that’s enchanted him time and again. With no other choice but to surrender to your demands, Alhaitham lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side without a care.

You’ve always thought the man to be handsome, but you’re left wonderstruck as your eyes wander across his bare skin. It’s not like his usual attire leaves much to the imagination, but Alhaitham undressed, is still a sight to see. His toned chest and sculpted stomach, well defined arms… Chiseled by the gods themselves, you think as the corner of your lips quirk just the slightest bit upwards.

“Enjoying the view?” It’s funny how much his smug smile contrasts with the mottled pink that colors his shoulders and dusts across his cheeks. His skin only flushes more when you trace a finger over the gem on his chest, tantalizingly slow as you make your way down his sternum, and only stopping to lightly flick at one of his nipples. Alhaitham’s breath hitches and you can practically see his muscles as they tense.

“Very much,” you answer, hands sinking lower. “So won’t you show me more?”

He catches you by your wrist when he feels you tugging at his waistband, and it takes everything for him to ignore the wanton desperation that’s quickly clouding his mind. It’s difficult, but out of sheer will, he manages to hold back, if only by a thread.

Gently, he pulls your chin up to face him. Want hides beneath his teal gaze, but there’s a softness that truly shines through, encapsulating the delicate balance between risk and reward.

His hands shift to caress your cheek, before he moves in to steal another kiss. This time it’s sweeter, more chaste. Alhaitham kisses you slow and passionate, interwoven with a tenderness that causes your heart to swell in your chest.

“You sure you want to do this?”

Your resounding ‘yes’ breathes a renewed ardor into his actions as he lowers you onto your back. Little by little, he makes his way down your body, leaving wet kisses everywhere except where you want him most. A kiss here, a lick there—the heat that pools in your belly only grows by the second, but a harsh suck right below your hip causes your breath to hitch and your cunt to drool more in response while you whine and attempt to rub your legs together for any sort of friction.

They are, however, aptly spread back apart when he hooks his arms beneath your thighs and pulls you closer to where he kneels at the edge of the bed.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, “and we’ve only just begun.” Alhaitham lets out a low chuckle as he presses another kiss to your inner thigh. It’s enough to have you shivering in anticipation, the reverberating tremors of his deep voice going straight to your pulsing hole, wet with the slick of your arousal. One of his hands moves to hold you down as you jolt when his teeth graze against the delicate skin.

“Will you please just hurry up,” you’re barely able to get all your words out before your voice breaks into a breathless gasp as he takes you by surprise, dipping his head down to lick a long stripe up your glistening folds and flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue once he reaches the top.

Talented in more ways than just words, you find out firsthand exactly how good he is with his tongue. Like a man starved, he laps up all you have to give, while your gushing hole happily churns out more slick. But it isn’t nearly enough. Especially not with the way you’re grinding into his face and singing praises to his name.

Alhaitham doesn’t consider himself an arrogant man, but he’s never loved hearing the sound of his own name more. It falls through your lips in a trail of whimpers, your pretty little cries music to his ears, delicate and lyrical. His tongue prods at your entrance, occasionally dipping into your warmth, and as he closes in, his nose bumps against your puffy clit. It has you keening, and your hands come flying to tangle in his ashen hair as your voice splits into a sharp gasp.

He takes a mental note of your reaction before moving to suckle on the sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing out another beautifully broken sob. With every exhale, and every swipe of his tongue, Alhaitham breathes life into your cunt—leaving it to drip with arousal and clench around nothing. Your fingers curl in his tresses and you tug hard. The low groan he emits reverberates through your body; the rumbling vibrations of his own pleasure sends you crawling to your high.

But he soon pulls away and you’re quick to let out a pitched cry in protest. He peers up from between your parted thighs, sharp eyes hungrily taking in the sight of you squirming at the loss of contact.

“Haitham,” you whine pitifully, hips blindly stuttering in search of his touch, “don’t stop.”

Oh how the tables have turned. Before him, your tiny hole clamps around nothing and a sly grin creeps onto his face, devilishly handsome and glistening with your essence that so freely drips down his chin. You’ve teased him relentlessly during the span of your partnership, and as per your logic, it’s only fair he gets to do the same.

“Beg for it,” he purrs. His warm breath fans across your folds, sending you into a frenzied fluster from the bottom up, and you feel as if you’re going to melt.

“P-please…” It’s difficult to come up with any words, much less the right words, to say when the overwhelmingly wanton desire for him to just touch you again, has your brain enveloped in a thick haze. “Need you…Haitham please…”

His name, entangled within the sweet pleas that fall from your lips, has his cock twitching again, eager to be freed from the constraints of his pants. But if he can ignore the wet spot forming from his own precum, then he can do the same to the way his hips seem to move on their own, slowly rutting against the bed. He’s a patient man, he can wait. You on the other hand…

You’re so needy for him, so lost trying to chase your own pleasure, that it doesn’t even register when he wets two fingers in his mouth, unable to process anything until you feel the faint stretch in your cunt that has you trembling in anticipation. His fingers slide easily into your creamy insides, and he only watches in amusement at the way your hips buck, silently begging him for something more than the painfully slow, lazy way he’s pumping in and out of you.

“You’re already so tight...” He lets out a breathy chuckle as he scissors you open, resisting the way your velvety walls come down, hugging every inch of the digits inside you. “How are you even going to take me, hm?”

You open your mouth to respond but nothing ever comes out, save for the faint breath of a moan that manages to escape. If you were in the right state of mind, you would’ve been sure to fire back something smart, however, your thoughts have been reduced to fixate on Alhaitham, who’s rather keen on keeping it that way.

He moves his wrist, twisting and turning, relentlessly searching until the pads of his fingers press against a spot just right, that it has your toes curling and back arching off the bed in a loud cry. He curls his fingers, bullying the spongy spot until echoes of your melodic mewls are undeniably present amongst the lewd squelching of your wetness. It sends him reeling and growing impossibly harder—oh how he so adores the way you unravel before him.

Your body runs hotter than ever and you feel the coil in your belly tighten, ready to snap. You’re going to cum. You’re so close. Just a little more. It repeats like a mantra in your head, but your impending climax dissipates as he draws both fingers back out, leaving you dangling at the precipice with a distressed wail, frustration pathetically painted across your face.

Why did he just do that? Your eyes are large and laced with tears that quiver and threaten to spill down your face. Ignoring your futile attempt at garnering pity, Alhaitham only continues to taunt you.

“Will you look at that?” he says, toying with the messy slick that glosses over his middle and index fingers like webbing, stretching and breaking along to the movements of his hand. It’s such damning evidence of how much you need him, but it’s also somehow mesmerizing, so much so that you’re unable to look away. It doesn’t help that your sopping cunt only weeps more at the sight, absentmindedly fluttering around nothing.

He drags you out of your thoughts as he unexpectedly takes your clit back into his mouth. His hot tongue swirls around your bud, effectively setting your veins on fire, then takes the chance to throw your earlier words back at you.

“Tell me what you’d like me to do,” he says, mouth never leaving the little nub.

You want him to make you cum, is what you want to say—or rather, you want him to let you cum, considering how he so cruelly ruined your earlier orgasm. But it all only translates into a litany of unintelligible whimpers, and Alhaitham smiles, the mischief twinkling in his eyes now glaringly apparent. He can’t help how endearing it is, that you, who always has so much to say, is now struggling to answer even the simplest of questions.

“Use your words. I want to hear that pretty voice of yours.”

“I want… I need…” you’re only able to make out a few words in between your ragged breaths before you’re interrupted by your own broken sob as he sucks down hard on your abused clit.

“Hm? What was that?”

“Want to cum… ” you choke out, eyes sliding shut as you try again with your best efforts.

The latter half of your sentence warps until it rises an octave and melts into a shaky moan. Alhaitham barely gives you just enough time to finish before three lithe fingers find their way into your cunt without warning, slipping past your wet folds with ease. The dull pain of an added finger stuffed into your tiny hole, has you keening, your own knuckles turning white from your steel grip on the bed sheets.

With a sweep of his tongue, he laves over your swollen clit again, sending shivers through to your core as you feel the tension return in your abdomen, this time wound even tighter from the way he continues to fuck your already sensitive cunt.

“ ‘m so close… please,” your breath catches in your throat as you whimper and squirm. “Please Haitham, please-”

It’s beyond his own belief how he managed to wrangle you into his bed; the beautiful mermaid who had first tried to drown him, who was always so outspoken and bold— now reduced to a begging, whimpering mess on his sheets. For that, he mentally pats himself on the back and decides to take pity on you.

“Come on, mermaid. Let me hear you sing.”

Immediately, you feel his fingers curl, right up against the very spot that has you seeing stars, exactly as he had intended. He drags his teeth carefully, lightly grazing your swollen clit, effectively ripping out a loud, visceral scream as you finally tip over the edge in an earth shattering orgasm.

Waves of pleasure continue to wash over you as Alhaitham finger fucks you through your high, vigilantly hitting that sweet, spongy spot over and over again without mercy. You’re left quivering, fingers desperately grasping at the bed sheets, trying to find something, anything to hold on to. His hand, the one that isn’t three knuckles deep inside you, moves to hold your hips down as they twitch in the settling overstimulation.

A satisfied hum rumbles in the back of his throat as he finishes off with an easy kiss to your inner thigh. He finally slows down his movements as you ride out your high, though the shallow, wet noises as he rocks his fingers in and out of you, seem all the more erotic against the backdrop of your dissipating cries.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he coos. “Such a pretty thing—so gorgeous when you cum for me.” Alhaitham continues to whisper sweet flatteries that have you preening until he feels you clench weakly around his fingers once more. He raises a brow, the beginnings of a small smirk forming on his face.

“Of course you like to be praised.” Despite the lilt in his voice, he draws his soiled digits out with care, though you still shudder as he passes through your sensitive folds.

“Shut up.”

Even as you sit up to catch your breath, your eyes wander over to the man’s bare upper body, before they drift down to the impressive tent bulging from his pants. Suddenly, you’re made painfully aware of how utterly empty you are. Arousal pulses through you, once again dripping out of your cunt at the thought of being stuffed full.

Your obvious staring doesn’t go unnoticed; and neither does the way you shift as you’re rubbing your thighs together for more friction. Your shamelessly perverse act only reinforces the thrum in his already rock hard cock.

“Open up.” You do as you’re told, intuitively wrapping your lips around his long fingers, cheeks hollowing as you clean off the mess you had left. It spurs him on, the way you hold his gaze with those large doe eyes, blinking so lasciviously when he draws them back out, leaving behind a trail of saliva that snaps like gossamer on your lips.

“What, haven’t had enough of me yet?” He teases you, yet the slight waver in his voice as he struggles to mask just how much he’d like to cum right then and there, says otherwise.

“Not nearly enough.”

Your playful wit is nothing new to him. And while Alhaitham considers himself to be quite well versed in how you love to play coy, an expert in navigating around your flirtations—he’s far from immune to your coquettish displays. He’s only human after all…

So it’s no fault of his own that you drive him absolutely insane.

Pupils blown wide and dilated with lust, he dips down until you can feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear, “I hope you don’t regret that.” His smooth baritone sends a shiver down your spine until it pools between your already sticky thighs, a vague promise of what’s to come.

Before you know it, he catches you in another eager kiss, rough and hopelessly greedy, as you fall back onto the mattress without a care. It only heightens your sense of urgency that he can’t help but grind into you.

His normal attire barely hides his bulge, but even underneath these loose clothes, the outline of his cock stands tall and unmistakably erect against the fabric—which you desperately need removed now, as you fumble with the waistband. Alhaitham chuckles lightly into the kiss before pulling away. Message received.

He moves quickly, pants and underwear hastily thrown to the side and forgotten, because how could you possibly think of anything else when he stands before you, hands fisted around his magnificent cock, grunting at the little ounce of relief as he gives himself a few quick pumps. Precum dribbles from the flushed pink tip and your eyes follow as he spreads it along the impressive length. You can’t help but think that it’s… pretty. And oh how you adore pretty things.

He lines himself up at your entrance, cockhead just barely dipping inside as he hovers over you, and for the first time tonight, you realize just how incredibly vulnerable you are now, laid bare before him, ripe for the taking. But it’s okay if it’s him. Whether it’s the fuzziness mulling in your head, or your cunt that’s thinking for you, anything is fine as long as it’s Alhaitham.

Above you, he swallows harshly and you can see the slow bob of his throat as he does so. “Tell me if you need to stop,” he murmurs. The rasp in his voice makes it apparent that it’s taking every ounce of fortitude not to just slam his entire length into you.

The first hiccupped gasp that escapes your lips has him smiling smugly as he pushes in, splitting you open with ease from how wet you are. But the stretch as you struggle to accommodate his girth burns despite your previous preparation; he’s just so much bigger than his fingers. Inch by agonizing inch, he stretches you wider, whispering sweet nothings while he stuffs you full of his cock.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises, though it’s quickly drowned out by the sound of your heart beating in your ears. Every time you think he’s done, he only continues to push further inside. Your head spins at how full you already feel, unconsciously tightening around him and drawing out a choked curse that rolls tactlessly off his tongue. There’s no helping the way his self control fades when you’re squeezing him like that, your needy cunt intent on sucking him all the way in.

“Fuck,” he rasps. It’s foreign and depraved and so vulgar compared to his usually eloquent speech—not that it isn't also incredibly attractive hearing him lose his composure like that—but it’s even more so especially because you’re the one making him feel this good. Your heart flutters at the thought and the vibrations of another muffled grunt ripple against your skin when you reflexively bear down again.

Alhaitham bottoms out in one final push, sending you reeling at how the thickest end of his shaft forces your little hole to stretch even wider to accommodate the width. A hitched cry leaves your throat and your arms fly to wrap around his neck, pulling him close as he presses soothing kisses along your jaw, though it does little to quell the heat rapidly igniting throughout your body.

“Are you alright?” There isn’t an ounce of teasing in his tone when he pauses to glance down, giving you a moment to adjust while ensuring you’re okay.

Your hum of approval is all he needs to start moving in languid strokes that fill you to the brim, his shallow thrusts so lewdly squelching to the tune of your wetness. Each slow drag of his cock forces you to feel very ridge and vein as he grinds back and forth, pulling soft mewls out of you until they melt into breathless whines pleading for something more.

“Faster… f-faster please.”

Who was he to deny you, when you’ve been taking him so well? Sliding ever so slowly, Alhaitham all but pulls out, leaving only the very tip of his cock to kiss your entrance. You don’t even have time to process the jarring emptiness before he slams his entire length back in with a single thrust, powerful enough to send your entire body jostling from the impact. Your back arches in pleasure, your head thrown back in a silent scream as your mouth falls agape, the sound dying before it’s ever able to leave your throat.

Alhaitham is relentless when he starts fucking you in earnest. The gentleness from earlier is gone, replaced by the callous way he repeatedly pounds into you, burying himself to the hilt every single time. He’s hitting depths you never thought possible, with each thrust sending shockwaves that ripple through you until it scrambles your mind, shattering that last piece of lucidity stubbornly holding you together.

“That’s it. Take it, just like that,” he coos, but you're too fogged over to comprehend his words. It’s clear your mind is currently occupied by other matters; matters such as the chant of his name atop your long string of strangled cries.

He revels at how pliant you are underneath him—so stimulated and keening out in pleasure at everything he does, greedy cunt eagerly swallowing every inch he offers, pulling him in with every snap of his hips.

His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking on the nub while he twirls the other between his fingers, groaning when your nails dig into his shoulders, imprinting crescents onto his skin. The added stimulation elicits another set of frantic whimpers, and the familiar tightness in your abdomen returns.

“Haitham I’m… I’m so…” Close, he deducts. He can tell by the way your walls close around him.

Half of him wants to watch you struggle with your words in between all your panting and moaning, wants to withhold your sweet release until you can speak properly while he continues to piston in and out of you. The other half, driven by his wanton throbbing, slides a hand over the curve of your ass, lifting your leg to angle himself just right before plunging deep inside you, hitting that same spot from before that had you seeing stars.

Loud, broken sobs tear through the room as his tip mercilessly drills into the spongy spot with pinpoint precision. Your nails rake down his back, and a sharp hiss manages to escape from his lips. It only fuels him more, makes his movements more erratic. Over and over, hit after hit, Alhaitham delivers an exhilarating pleasure that drives you to the edge of delirium. Warmth blooms in the pit of your stomach threatening to spill over and seep into every crevice of your being.

It’s too much. It’s so good. It’s not enough. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take.

“I can feel you falling apart around me.” The corners of his mouth lift in a smug grin, ignoring the fact that his voice comes out in ragged huffs, uneven from his labored breathing.

There’s no use denying how much you affect him as well— not when fire licks his body, coloring his pale skin flush. Nor when his expression is clearly strained, trying so desperately to hold on to his crumbling composure. You’d notice if you still had the capacity to process anything at all, but alas…

He lowers his head into the crook of your neck, nipping lightly at the tender skin before switching to your native tongue. “C’mon my beautiful mermaid… give it to me. Cum for me.”

The white hot bliss that sweeps across your body is maddening and it leaves you absolutely shattered. The vibrato in your voice cracks as you scream and sob, body going impossibly taut. You’re desperately gasping for air, drowning in the waves of euphoria that wash over you, but it pulls you in and drags you further down into delirium. You can’t think, you can’t speak. You can’t stop the trembling in your thighs and you can’t stop your cunt from spasming as he continues to fuck into you.

His pace slows but his strokes are longer and deeper, as if he’s trying to ingrain himself permanently within your walls. Your moans rise in pitch, turning to whimpers when his thrusts continue past your orgasm and into the settling overstimulation, his cock still taking from you where there’s no more to take.

You’ve never felt more like a paradox than you do now. Your head is the clouds, while your body feels heavier than ever. You’re painfully sensitive, squirming to get away as he chases his own release, yet your cunt still pulses and begs to milk his fat cock dry.

Weak arms reach up to cup his face, pulling him in for a lasting kiss, breathing him in like the air you so desperately need in your lungs. When you pull away, your eyes are so dazed and lidded, not yet recovered from the intensity of your orgasm, but already prickling with tears from the burn of overstimulation.

“Make me yours.”

Alhaitham buries his head in the crook of your neck; there’s no hope of keeping up his composure now. In fact, it’s a wonder he didn’t come from those words alone. You already are, he tells himself. There’s nobody else he could ever want; nobody else could ever compare to how perfect you are for him.

With a few final thrusts, he presses his weight into you and sinks his cock as deep as he can. He lets out a tattered moan and his hips stutter as he follows you over the edge, the warmth of his hot cum spilling into your insides.

A fleeting thought crosses your mind: Maybe you want to stay like this forever. So warm and tingly and speared open in all consuming pleasure.

His body slumps against yours, relaxed and utterly at peace. In the numbing midst of his high, Alhaitham’s mind is for once, a couple beats slower than his palpitating heart.

“I love you.”

He wasn’t thinking when it had slipped out of his mouth. The words came so naturally, rolled off his tongue so easily. It’s too late by the time he realizes just what he’s said; he hopes to god you didn’t hear him, but it’s the only thing you catch amongst all the white noise. He loves you. Alhaitham loves you.

It replays on a loop inside your head but your jumbled mess of a brain can only process so much right now. “Love… you…” you barely manage to scrape out. He quiets your empty babbles with another kiss, muffling your whines as he gently—though reluctantly—pulls out of your embrace. You shudder and whine at the loss.

“Easy now,” he soothes, distracting you with praises and soft pecks to your temples. To you, the emptiness in your cunt feels all too foreign, but he can’t help but stare at the lecherous sight of your combined fluids dripping out of your hole. He can already picture it in his head; the wet noise of your slick and his cum, all shoved back into you so that not a single drop is wasted…

Alhaitham shakes the thought from his head, forcibly tearing his eyes away before his own mind can betray him. He excuses himself before soon returning with a glass of water and a warm, wet towel in hand.

Slowly but surely, your lungs steady, and the fog dissipates, and you’re finally able to anchor yourself back to reality. A reality where your throat is dry, hoarse from all the retrospectively embarrassing sounds he had dragged out of you, and your limbs feel so heavy, as if your bones have all but dissolved into jelly.

“Gonna clean you up, okay?”

With your permission, he helps sit you up, passing you the glass of water before he begins wiping off the excess fluid between your legs. The towel is rough against the still sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making you jolt. Immediately, he utters an awkward apology, looking up to gauge your reaction.

Water, split from the sudden movement, drips down your chin. Loose pieces of hair stick to your forehead; the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin makes sure of that. To look so disheveled yet so gorgeous at the same time… you’re absolutely enchanting in the afterglow. A flicker of pride rushes through him—he did that. The proof was in the bites and bruises littered across your skin. He smiles, sheer adoration present in his eyes.

Your soft giggle breaks his train of thought. “What are you—” A yawn. “What are you looking at?” The chirp in your tone peaks just the tiniest bit out of your sleep-laden voice, but you’re too worn out to wait for an answer, opting to fall back onto the mattress instead. It’s not long before you fully yield to the exhaustion.

You look so peaceful in your sleep, so human, that he almost forgets you’re not. Still, he wonders how it would feel to hold you in his arms as he sleeps. To wake up beside you and watch as the sunlight illuminates your features.

Would it be selfish of him to indulge just a little more?

Tossing the towel aside, he joins you under the safety of his covers. He wraps an arm around your frame, pulling you close, holding you right next to where his heart beats in his chest. Alhaitham presses a soft, last kiss to the top of your head before he too, drifts off to sleep.

When morning comes and the golden sun arises, everything will return as it was. Dreams and other such wishful delights are of the moon’s sovereignty, so tonight, let him hold on to this reverie for just a little while longer.

a/n2: This was my very first smut piece so I hope you enjoyed :’) Since this is an extra chapter, I tried not to include any details that would drive the plot too much, but ending it with just a tiny bit of angst to transition to the next part. thank u for reading ! ♡

4K notes · View notes

percyluvr · 7 months

Note

Hiii!!! If your requests are open could you do an injury fic with Luke and a Persephone reader? Where she gets hurt during capture the flag or smth like that and this man starts stressing even if he’s on the opposite team and didn’t know what was going on when she got hurt?

luke castellan x daughter of persephone!reader summary: you get hurt during capture the flag and luke gets worried wc: 885

Luke Castellan is very particular about his capture the flag team, and everyone at camp knew that, which is why it came as a surprise when you and him were on separate teams.

When asked, he would just say that the two of you had decided to have a competition on who could create the better capture the flag strategy, but it was deeper than that. The two of you had a small fight because you felt that he never let you help with the strategy enough, and you felt like he never really let you in on the combat. It was almost like he thought of you as a delicate flower, and when you brought it up, he got irritated, telling you that he wasn't trying to control you, he just didn't want you to get hurt.

You'd gotten mad and stormed out, and now neither of you knew where you stood, and preparing for capture the flag against him wasn't helping at all. The few days leading up to capture the flag were some of the most hostile days each month, and this time was no exception. It may just be a camp war game to some campers, but to others, especially your teammate Clarisse, this was a big deal. Clarisse was always rude and quite hostile towards your boyfriend, but it was worse than ever now.

You and Clarisse were an unexpected duo, but you two had a special connection, considering each other your best friend, so when you told her what happened between you and Luke, she was pissed off, to say the least.

"Thanks for telling me that, I'm gonna hand his ass to him on Friday," she said, running her hand along your arm, trying to comfort you to her best ability.

"Thanks, Clarisse, I can always count on you if I want someone to get beat up," you joked, making her laugh.

The next few days went by quickly, you and Clarisse rigorously training with each other and going over your plan as co-captains. You'd always loved being on the same team as Clarisse before you started dating Luke, and now you finally got to be again.

On the day of capture the flag, you and all the campers headed into the forest, getting into your positions. The game began, and you and Clarisse charged into the other team's territory.

As a daughter of Persephone, you had the ability to manipulate certain plants, which was helpful, especially at camp, because you could control almost all of the plants that were there. Unfortunately, with great power comes a great ego boost, which you fell victim to.

You and Clarisse were basically wiping the floor with your opponents, when you got caught up in your head, confidence overflowing, and tried to create a longer vine, accidentally tripped over it, and fell right into the sword of the camper you were fighting. Luckily, you had managed to move your body so that you didn't get stabbed anywhere fatal, but you did get an incredibly deep cut right under your ribcage, which caught the attention of Clarisse. Seeing you injured fueled Clarisse's rage, and she quickly finished the fight.

Immediately, she picked you up bridal style, rushing you through the woods to the infirmary. She passed by Luke, and at first he ignored it, but then he did a double take after realizing it was Clarisse, and saw you in her arms, blood soaking through your orange Camp Half-Blood shirt. Even though he was in the middle of a fight, he booked it in the direction the two of you were heading, now full of worry.

He finally caught up to the two of you, surprised at how quick Clarisse was. When Clarisse caught sight of him, she cracked her knuckles and gave him the dirtiest look you had even seen in your life. You bit back a laugh.

Luke rushed up to where you were sitting on the bed.

"Baby, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay," he said, voice filled with desperation.

You gave him a pained look, gesturing to the large blood-soaked bandage covering the left side of your abdomen. "Well, I have a near fatal hole going through my side, but other than that, I'm great," you say dryly.

"C'mon, don't be that way. I'm sorry for what happened last week, okay? But see, this is why I'm so protective. I can't let anything happen to you, I don't want to lose anyone else," he whispers, eyes glazed over.

At this point, Clarisse is long gone. Knowing her, she probably left because she couldn't stand to see you and Luke being all 'lovey dovey,' as she calls it.

"Well... yeah. I guess I see your point. But I still think that you should let me help more, please."

"Okay, you're right. I know you're perfectly capable, I'm just scared. I've lost too many people and losing you would be too much to handle, so please be more careful, okay?" He eyes your bandage, giving you a grimace.

You respond by pulling him down to your face by his shirt, and give him a sweet kiss, which he reciprocates almost immediately. It almost made you laugh how quickly he kisses you back, even though it happens every time.

#pjo #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan #your honor i love him

1K notes · View notes

bucky-fricking-barnes · 8 months

Text

The Cards We're Dealt

Title: The Cards We’re Dealt

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, alcohol, cursing, objectification of women and mild sexism, bad parents, angst, fluff, mentions of drugs

Summary: Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.

A/N: Wow! Another long fic because I have no self-restraint. There’s a bit of Irish in this because I couldn’t resist it when I wrote Steve. Translations are at the end, and anything incorrect can be blamed on Google Translate. As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and supporting me in all the ways you do.

There is an unspoken rule amongst the mobs in New York that the more drug manufacturers a man controls, the nicer you treat his daughter. So, when Bucky’s father tells him that he’s once again been pimped out as part of a deal, Bucky knows to ask the question,

“How many does he control?”

If Bucky had his way, of course, he would treat all girls as well as he is able (which is very well). He likes girls, and he likes going out with girls. He just wishes he could choose which girls he got to take out.

“Seventy-five percent,” George Barnes says, and Bucky freezes with his glass against his lips. He has a club soda to his father’s whiskey—he’s in a good mood and was actually hoping to enjoy the day, though now he’s reconsidering it. His plan to lounge by the pool with Becca and soak up as much of the late spring sunshine as possible is quickly dissipating.

“That’s not possible,” Bucky replies. He quickly does the math in his head. His dad owns over half the manufacturers in Brooklyn. “We own—“

“Not anymore.”

The library falls silent as Bucky tries to wrap his head around the news. Just yesterday he’d overheard his father on the phone with one of his men, explaining in great detail what he’d do if they didn’t get him a sample of their newest product by the top of the hour.

“How?” he asks. He sets his glass aside and sits straighter in his chair. “Did something happen? You didn’t tell me about a takeover.”

George takes a sip of his whiskey. “That’s because there wasn’t one.” He sets the crystal tumbler on the small bronze tray nearby. Marta will come clean it up later. “I sold them.”

“You sold them? If you’ve already struck a deal, then why am I taking out his daughter? Isn’t that normally something you have me do to butter their fathers up before you make the deal?”

Bucky watches as his own father stands and goes to watch the landscapers through the library window, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s long since been out of the army, but some habits die hard. Very rarely did the man ever relax.

“You are the deal,” George answers, his voice much too casual for Bucky’s liking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” snaps Bucky.

“Watch your tone, boy,” his father replies. He doesn’t turn around to witness the way Bucky grinds his teeth together in response. “In exchange for the majority of Theo’s territory, you and Y/N will be married within a year and a half, though the exact date is up to the two of you. I believe that Theo mentioned his daughter likes spring, so perhaps a spring wedding. June is popular, from what I’m told, though that’s cutting it a little close to the deadline.”

Bucky’s up out of his seat now. He can feel his pulse thrumming and he can’t quite catch his breath.

“So what? You threw me in to sweeten the pot? Am I just another bargaining chip to you now?”

He’s shouting. He doesn’t care.

George turns and regards him in silence, and, like always, his expression betrays nothing of what he’s thinking or feeling. He doesn’t seem fazed at all by Bucky’s outburst.

“You’re my heir. I make my decisions based on what’s best for our family. Nothing about this decision is impulsive or frivolous, James,” he finally answers, his voice cool and even. There’s nothing familial in his tone—George Barnes is all business.

“You can’t just decide that I’m getting married. I won’t do it. I refuse,” Bucky tells him. He balls his fists at his sides and he sets his jaw, furious. How dare his father try to control his life like this? It’s one thing to occupy the majority of Bucky’s nights and weekends with dates, meetings, dinners, and weapons runs, but it’s another to throw him into a marriage he doesn’t want.

“I can and you will. If you don’t, there will be consequences. To start, you will be immediately cut off from our family. You will have no money, no home, no resources, and no contact or communication with anyone involved in the business, including your mother and your sister.”

Heart pounding, Bucky glares at him. He’s got a migraine coming on. He knows his father isn’t kidding, but he wants more than anything for Steve to pop out and say that this is all just a joke. He’s never even met Theo’s daughter. He’s barely even met Theo. According to the rumors, his only daughter is his most prized treasure. She isn’t someone who frequents any of the bars, clubs, and restaurants that he and the other “mob children” frequent. Maybe “mob children” isn’t exactly the right term, at least not anymore. After all, Bucky’s engaged now. He’s just part of the mob, another pawn to be moved around the chessboard.

“You have the rest of the day off. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning,” says George. He picks up his glass and downs the last of the liquor. “Theo and his family are coming for breakfast, and then Y/N will be moving in with us. I want you on your best behavior.”

He pauses and Bucky continues to glare at him, not validating his words with a response. George’s eyes grow dark with a thinly veiled threat. Bucky knows that look—if he pushes his father any harder, he’ll regret it.

“Do you understand, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky grinds out.

Turning on his heel, Bucky stalks out of the library and slams the door behind him. He immediately heads down the hall, then down the stairs and across the ground floor of the Barnes Estate to the garage. His keys are still in his pocket; he’d only just gotten back from a night out with Steve when his father had summoned him.

It doesn’t matter that he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Bucky climbs onto his bike and revs the engine, speeding off down the long driveway that winds around the house. The guards barely get the gate open in time and then he’s flying down the road, heading straight to Steve’s bar in the city. He knows his friend will be there, most likely nursing his hangover and going over the books in his back office. He won’t be hard to convince to go out again, though Bucky knows he won’t approve of the plan to drink as much as he possibly can in the next twelve hours. It doesn’t matter, though—it’s Bucky’s last night as a free man, and he’s determined to make the most of it.

You sit between your parents, staring at the empty seat across from you. They’d told you this morning that you were going to the Barnes Estate for breakfast, and while you’d expected the grandeur of the dining room and the meal, you didn’t expect the eldest Barnes child to be completely absent. You’ve never met him, but your mother has insisted that you speak to James—George Barnes’ only son and heir—as much as possible during the meal. Supposedly, he’s the same age as you.

Rebecca Barnes is a ray of sunshine and her cheery disposition is a stark contrast to the dark clouds that now hang over your fathers’ heads. Maybe it’s a deal gone wrong or maybe it’s something else, but you don’t like it. It leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Silently, you sneak a hand under the table to find your mother’s. You squeeze and your mom squeezes back, glancing over to give a reassuring smile.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Barnes starts, and you jump a little in your seat. You haven’t been verbally addressed since you’d been seated a half hour ago. The food has yet to be served. “Your parents tell us that you’re very interested in horticulture. Did you know we have a rose garden out back?”

You force a polite smile. “I don’t know about very interested. I have a few house plants that I’ve managed to keep alive, though I would love to see your garden sometime. I’m sure it’s beautiful,” you add.

“Maybe Bucky can take you,” Rebecca says, earning herself a sharp look from her mother. She simply shrugs.

Oh, to be as unbothered as Rebecca Barnes!

“Where is James?” your father asks. His voice is a low, threatening growl and you sink down in your chair, staring at the cloth napkin still folded atop your plates.

“He knows to be here,” Mr. Barnes growls back. “You’ll have to excuse his tardiness, he’s not normally like this.”

Mrs. Barnes gives Rebecca an even harsher look when she opens her mouth to speak, and this time the girl actually looks ashamed. She takes a sip of her orange juice to hide the guilty look on her face. She’s the first person to have actually touched something on the table, and it’s like whatever spell the room has been under is broken.

All at once, the dining room springs to life. A short, slightly heavy-set woman in a gray dress and white apron enters through one door. She’s holding a delicate silver coffeepot and the smell of coffee instantly fills the room. Two younger women in identical uniforms follow behind her, each of them pushing golden carts laden with food. Through the door across the room, a tall man with short, dark brown hair stumbles in. He’s wearing all black, from his rumpled button-up and jeans to his boots and sunglasses. His hair is sticking up in every direction and just like the coffee, you can smell the stench of alcohol coming from him even from your seat.

You grimace at the smell and pull your napkin into your lap as one of the women comes to place food in front of you. It’s a formal dining service and the strange new man who’s entered feels entirely out of place. From his attire to the way he shuffles across the antique rug, everything about him screams that he’d rather be anywhere else. If you acted like that, your father would be pulling you back out into the hallway to reprimand you, and you look anxiously at Mr. Barnes, who’s seated at the head of the table.

“James,” he greets, his voice unnervingly even. A chill runs down your spine. “It’s nice of you to join us. I trust that you slept well last night?”

James collapses into the only empty chair at the table, the one across from you, and pointedly ignores his father. You risk a glance up at him as he reaches for the cup of coffee that’s already been poured.

True to form, Rebecca leans over and claps a hand on her brother’s shoulder blade. “Good morning! Aren’t you excited to have breakfast with our guests?” she shouts, and her smirk makes it much too clear that she’s fully enjoying the way her brother’s scowl deepens. Rebecca also ignores her parents, including her mother, who leans forward to look past James and give her a look of warning.

James shrugs his sister off of him and starts buttering the toast on his plate. You watch for a moment, then start picking at your own food as your mother also begins to eat. Everyone’s acting so strangely that you’re already on edge, and you’ve only managed to get down a few grapes and two bites of dry toast by the time your father speaks up again.

“So when are we signing these papers?” he asks, sipping his coffee.

“As soon as the marriage license is signed,” answers Mr. Barnes.

You frown. Marriage license? Who’s getting married?

“And the terms are the same as when we last spoke?”

Mr. Barnes sips his own drink, something that looks suspiciously like whiskey, and sets down the glass. “Yes. I have that contract in my office. We’ll review and sign after we’re done here. Are all of your daughter’s things ready to be moved?”

Your stomach drops and you turn to stare at your father with wide eyes. He nods, not even paying attention to you as he continues his conversation with the other man. Your mother pointedly ignores you, choosing instead to stare at her plate as she eats. When you look around the room, it seems like almost everyone else is doing the same. Rebecca is the only person who actually meets your panicked gaze. She gives you a pitying look as your anxiety rises.

It feels like your mouth is filled with sandpaper, and you grab your glass of juice. You have to drink half of it before the feeling even mildly abates. As soon as you set it down, one of the women in gray appears to refill it.

“What’s going on? Why are you moving my stuff?” you finally choke out. You twist the napkin in your lap with both hands, wringing it as you look from one person’s face to the next.

Mr. Barnes stops mid-sentence and the whole room freezes. Even James, who’s pouring something into his coffee cup from a small silver flask, stops what he’s doing.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” your mother begins, taking your hand under the table.

You want to pull away. You don’t.

“After breakfast, your father and I are going home, but you’ll be staying here with the Barneses.”

“What?” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “No, I don’t— I don’t want to stay here. You never said anything about me—“

“We’re getting married,” James interrupts. He’s chewing and you look over at him, gaping at the casual way he’s sprawled out in his chair. You can feel his gaze on you even from behind his sunglasses and it makes you feel dirty.

“Excuse me?”

He chuckles and sits up, then leans forward in the chair. He drops the greasy strip of bacon he’d been eating onto his plate. “We’re getting married. They’re using us like bartering chips, sweetheart. You and me in exchange for all the drugs and all the territory in New York.” James gestures grandly with one hand, a too-wide grin on his face. There must be at least ten rings on each of his hands and you swallow thickly at the threatening display of black and silver metal.

You’re trembling now and you pull your hand away from your mom’s. She reaches for you again but you shake your head, shying away from her touch. Frantically, you look around the room to see if this is some kind of joke or a drunken rambling, but no one is laughing. Even Mrs. Barnes has the decency to look sympathetic on your behalf.

“No, no. You wouldn’t—“ You look back at your parents, imploring them to say that it isn’t true. You swallow thickly, trying to stave off tears, and your voice wavers as you prompt, “Mom? Dad?”

Their silence speaks volumes and a whimper escapes you as you wring your hands in your lap. The napkin slides onto the floor. It suddenly feels like you can’t breathe and when your mom reaches out for a second time and starts to tell you to calm down, you jerk away and stand. The chair falls backwards behind you, but you ignore it as you rush out of the dining room and into the hallway you’d entered from. Everything is unfamiliar. Frantically, you pick a door and yank on the handle. It doesn’t give way and you continue the process until one of them finally opens and you can rush inside. You lock it behind you and press your back against the door. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows are closed, shrouding the room in darkness. You can’t make out much of the furniture through the tears in your eyes.

Out in the hallway, you can hear your mother calling for you and your father arguing with Mr. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes is yelling at somebody too, but it’s hard enough to hear the others over your own gasps and sobs. You’re properly crying now and you sink to the floor, curling up on the carpet as you heave. It’s a good thing you weren’t able to stomach much breakfast.

A knock on the door makes you yelp and then cry harder, and you crawl into the darkness of the room to try and find a hiding spot. You’re lucky enough to find an old, heavy desk right away. It’s the perfect size for you to crawl under for shelter, and there’s no chair for you to move out of the way. The drawers on both sides create a cubby for you, so you crawl into it and curl up into a ball with your back towards the door, just in case someone manages to get in. If you’re quiet enough, it’s possible they’ll walk right past you.

The crowd in the hallway has definitely heard you by now. The doorknob is rattling as whoever’s on the other side tries to get in, but after a few minutes, they stop and the hallway goes quiet. You hold your breath after every couple of sobs, listening for any sign that they’ve found a key or that they’re picking the lock. Nothing happens, however, and after a while, you give up on listening.

You sit in the darkness and cry until you’re thoroughly exhausted. Once you’ve run out of tears, you sit and zone out with your head resting against the side of the desk drawers for a while longer, numb from the news. Your body feels light and a buzzing, tingling feeling makes moving your limbs seem impossible. You could’ve never imagined that your parents would be so capable of treating you so poorly. You’ve always felt so loved by them, and to hear that they’ve practically thrown you away at the first chance of a profit makes you want to puke. Upon that realization, you actually do throw up, and the stink of your vomit on the carpet of whatever room you’re in makes you want to cry all over again.

The door opens just as the stench is becoming too much to bear. Light floods in from the hallway and you squint, curling up in fear. After a moment, the shorter woman in the gray uniform that you’d seen at breakfast appears a few feet away from the desk, right in the path of light. You look up at her.

“Oh dear,” she sighs, and you instantly feel ashamed at the disappointment in her voice.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. Your bottom lip is trembling again as fresh tears somehow appear in your eyes. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your wrists. “I can clean it if you—“

“You’ll do no such thing,” the woman says. Her voice is gentle and kind, so much so that you don’t feel the need to argue with her. She waves her hand dismissively and approaches you, then holds out both hands. She’s careful not to step in the mess you’ve made. “Now come on, up you go.”

You let her help you to your feet and then you straighten out your clothes, sniffling and wiping at your nose again in a desperate attempt to look more put together than you feel. Still a bit unsteady, you whimper for a second time, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, dear.” She gives you a warm smile. “My name’s Marta. I’m the head housekeeper here. It’s very nice to meet you.”

You don’t feel the same way about meeting her, given the circumstances, but you hold that comment to yourself and simply nod in agreement. Marta leads you back out into the too-bright hallway. It’s empty except for a bald man mopping the floor on the far end.

The high ceilings and glossy marble floors make it look like you’re in a castle. Even the silence feels regal. Everything seems so cold compared to your home, and you feel too small in the massive space.

“What time is it?” you quietly ask, looking back at Marta.

“It’s almost noon, Miss.”

Your stomach sinks and you press your lips together, inhaling deeply as you look around again. Three hours have passed. “My parents…”

“They left about fifteen minutes after breakfast,” she tells you. Her words are matter-of-fact, even if she delivers the news in the softest possible way.

Somehow it hurts worse that they’ve left you than finding out they’d practically sold you to the Barneses in exchange for God knows what. Drugs or territory, whatever James had said. Not only did they treat you like nothing, but they’d deserted you after it was clear you didn’t agree with their plans. They hadn’t even tried to reassure you that they still loved you or that you’d still be able to see them. Maybe you wouldn’t be. Maybe they didn’t.

You nod numbly. There’s been nothing to prepare you for this, no precursor or warning, so you keep looking around the hall, though in reality you’re not really seeing anything.

“Your room is ready upstairs, Miss Y/N. Would you like me to take you?” asks Marta.

You nod again. You feel like you’re underwater as you follow her up a grand staircase and then down a long, narrow hallway. It’s decorated similarly to the ground floor, though with a plush Persian rug running its length. Marta talks as she walks ahead of you, no doubt explaining what the many doors lead to, but her words simply go in one ear and out the other. It’s all so surreal that when you finally get to your own room, you don’t even open the door. Marta has to reach around you to open it, and then she gently ushers you inside when you still don't move.

Just as they had said at breakfast, your belongings have all been moved into the Barnes Estate. The furniture here is different, grander than what you’re used to, but your blankets and pillows are on the bed, and the two bookshelves are packed full of the books you’ve collected over the years. Even the strip from the photo booth at an old friend’s wedding is pinned to the bulletin board above the desk. Someone’s even thought to put your plants on their own table by the window.

“There’s a bathroom on the left and your closet is on the right,” Marta explains, pointing to each. “If you’re hungry, dinner is at five.”

“Do I have to eat with them?” you ask.

If Marta is surprised by your question, she doesn’t show it. She simply shakes her head with a gentle smile. “No. We can bring food here if you’d like.”

You nod and stand in silence until she leaves and closes the door behind her. Then, after another minute passes, you drag yourself over to the bed, climb under the covers, and close your eyes.

If there’s any mercy left in this life, you think, I’ll fall asleep and never wake up again.

Weeks pass and you still haven’t adjusted to life at the Barnes Estate. The staff is only slightly less friendly than those you grew up with, but they’re more attentive. It helps that there are more of them. For every member of the Barnes family, yourself included, there are at least four staff members to attend to their every need. It makes you feel like royalty, but it also makes you feel guilty. You don’t need this much. You certainly didn’t ask for it.

You haven’t seen James since the ill-fated breakfast, nor have you seen your parents. They’ve gone so far as to block your number. After that discovery, you’d locked yourself in the massive ensuite bathroom and cried for an hour. Marta had been the one to coax you out. The poor maid who’d found you when coming to get you for dinner hadn’t known how to help. You’d spent that entire evening curled up on your bed while reruns of The Nanny played on the TV embedded in the wall across from the massive mattress. Marta had spent every second with you that she could, but eventually Mrs. Barnes—Winnifred, as you referred to her in your mind—had scolded her for neglecting her nighttime duties across the estate. That made you feel even worse.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca asks, and you turn to look at her from where you’re staring out the hallway windows at the gardeners. The backyard is massive, complete with a rose garden in full bloom, an outdoor swimming pool, a forested walking trail, a large green expanse for games and parties, a gazebo, a fountain, and what seems to be stables far in the distance, though you haven’t ventured far enough to be sure. A visit to the rose garden hasn’t been brought up again either, and nothing seems interesting enough to explore on your own.

Nodding, you don’t say anything before turning back to watch the men work. They talk and laugh with each other as they prune, pick, and water. You wish that you could trade places with them.

“You don’t look okay,” she says. Rebecca props herself up on the window ledge to your right, facing you with a suspicious look on her face. “We haven’t seen you at any meals, and Valerie told me that you were crying in the bathtub three nights ago.”

You should feel ashamed, but you’re too numb to care. It feels like you’re floating through each day, detached from most things. You’ve spent your entire life thinking that you would marry for love and live happily ever after. Now, your parents have sold you to the highest bidder and your husband-to-be is a cruel, disgusting man-child that wants nothing to do with you.

Rebecca’s fingers lacing with yours jerk you back to reality and you look down at your joined hands in confusion. Her nails are bitten short and she wears a single ring with the Barnes family crest. It’s dainty and gold, a stark contrast to the many rings on her brother’s fingers.

“You’re safe here, Y/N,” she tells you, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to be alone. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you. If I had any say in it, you could be home right now with your parents, but I’m far from the top of the totem pole.”

“I hate them.” You spit the words out and jerk your hand away from hers. “I hate my parents.”

That’s the first time you’ve ever said that in your entire life and your heart skips a beat as the anger makes your lip curl. You’re baring your teeth at her but Rebecca doesn’t even flinch. She’s a mafia princess, through and through.

“They made me believe that I could have anything I wanted, that I could marry whoever I wanted whenever I was ready, and then they threw that all away and treated me like shit the first time it was convenient for them.”

She nods. “That’s true.”

“I was so foolish to have believed them,” you growl, but the fight in you is fading just as quickly as it came. You burn bright, but you burn quickly, too.

“No,” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “You’re just human.”

You look away, embarrassed by your display of emotion as your eyes begin to water with more tears. You were raised to be reserved. You knew very little about the inner workings of your parents’ business, but you’d learned as a young girl that you’d fare better if you always clung to the edges of the room, avoiding the dirt and grime and blood that surrounded your whole life. Over the years, you’ve grown very good at hiding yourself and your emotions from the people around you. From the spark in her eye, you have the feeling that Rebecca is the exact opposite. She could hold her own if it came down to it. You couldn’t.

“It’s okay to be upset,” she insists.

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath and look back out the window. You lift your chin slightly and when Rebecca tries to rope you into another conversation with her, you ignore her and focus on the men outside. They’re finished tending to the roses on the edges of the garden. Now they’re working their way inwards.

You’re finally left alone a few minutes later and as soon as she’s around the corner, you let out a heavy sigh and relax your posture. Slumping forward, you lean forward into the window ledge, curling up just a little as you continue to watch the gardeners. The silly song from Alice in Wonderland pops into your head and you hum along, eventually mumbling to yourself about painting the roses red.

You feel a little bit like Alice, you realize. You’re out of your element in a strange land where everything you’ve learned about life seems to be turned on its head. In this world, nobody marries for love and the girls are just as entrenched in the business as the men. Does Rebecca conduct business with her father and older brother? You could certainly picture it. Will the same be expected of you?

That afternoon, Marta knocks on your door with a written invitation from Winnifred. Your presence is being formally requested at their dinner table, though from the look the housekeeper is giving you, it’s more of a demand than a request. With her help, you pick out something to wear. By the time five o’clock rolls around, you’re crossing the enormous hallway in a dress and heels that you’ve never seen before. It’s far too showy for your taste, but it’s clearly something someone wanted you to wear. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have put it in your closet.

George Barnes and James stand when you enter the dining room, as do several other men you don’t recognize. Your father is standing near the head of the table with George, though your mother and Rebecca are nowhere in sight. Besides Winnifred, you don’t recognize any of the other women. The only empty seat is beside James and your immediate instinct is to flee, but then he’s stepping aside to pull out the chair and all eyes are on you.

Slowly, you close the distance between the two of you and sit. He helps you scoot in, then takes his own seat on your right. The other men sit as well and then dinner resumes. You sit in silence, staring at the top edge of your plate with your hands in your lap. You’re not really listening to the conversations around you, either, but you can feel someone’s eyes on you as you try to stay as quiet and motionless as possible.

“Are you sick or something?”

You startle and look up with wide eyes. James is watching you. He’s got one hand on the table with his fingers brushing the stem of his wineglass and the other resting on his thigh. Unlike your fateful breakfast weeks ago, James is dressed in a neat, all-black suit. He has no tie, and his rings are all gone except one. It’s identical to Rebecca’s family crest, except his is silver and has a thicker band.

His eyes are full of something you can’t place and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. As quickly as you turned to him, you turn away and look back at your plate. The napkin is folded in some elaborate way on top of the plate. You’re not sure if it’s supposed to resemble anything at all, but maybe if you stare at it long enough, it will look like something.

“Y/N?” he prompts. You nod once, tightly, and then pull the heavy cloth napkin into your lap when a server appears to present the first course.

Between the second and third course, you can feel James’ eyes on you. After the third, he gets roped into conversation with a man sitting across the table, but you know that he’s glancing at you all the while. After the fourth, he bumps his arm against yours. You shirk away and feel him tense beside you.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, and you push your chair away from the table. Immediately, the conversations stop and all the men stand again. It’s too much attention on you and you hurry out of the dining room as fast as your heels and dress will allow. You’re stumbling over yourself by the time you get back to your suite on the third floor. The door slams behind you and you collapse onto the floor beside the bed, too overwhelmed to even climb atop the oversized mattress. You’re on the verge of tears when there’s a soft knock from the door, and that rips a sob from your chest that you hadn’t expected.

Immediately, the door opens and James is standing in the open space, a dark look on his face. You sob again and scramble backwards until the edge of the bed frame is digging painfully into your spine.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You swallow hard and take several gasping breaths, trying to control yourself. Your mind is spinning with insults, calling you weak and pathetic, and you believe every one.

“It’s just too much,” you answer through your tears. “I don’t want this!”

James huffs. His angry expression has faded, now replaced with something more akin to irritation. “And you think I do?”

You shake your head. “Of course not.”

“These are the cards we’ve been dealt, doll. You’re gonna have to get over it. Let’s just get married and then we can live happily ever after in a big house where we never have to see each other. I’ll do what I want and you can do what you want. Sound like a plan?”

You look down at your hands. A big part of you wants to say that no, it doesn’t sound like a plan. You don’t want that life. You don’t want a house so big that you practically need a golf cart to get from one side to the other. You don’t want a husband who ignores you in favor of his blood money or his side chick or the next shiny toy off the black market. You don’t want James.

Though every part of you is screaming the opposite, you nod. He crosses the room and you inhale sharply to steady yourself as he approaches you with no care. His black dress shoes are tracking dirt across the rug. James holds out a hand to help you up and you take it. The heirloom ring on his right hand digs into yours until you’re standing, and then he drops your hand like it’s on fire.

“We need to go back,” he tells you, and you nod again. “Our parents are pissed.”

“Of course they are,” you mumble.

James pauses, staring at you critically. You’ve been staring at the baseboards since he helped you up, but when he doesn’t move or speak, you glance upwards at him. He’s got one eyebrow raised. His expression is thoroughly unreadable otherwise and an unsettling feeling blooms in your stomach.

“What?” you ask. You step back a little, but there’s no place to go except up against the bed again.

He shakes his head at you. “Nothing. Come on, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” You scrunch your nose. “Anything but that.”

“Sugar?” he offers, and when you shake your head, he sighs. “Well, what do you want me to call you, since you’re suddenly the one calling the shots?”

His words cut deep and you look back down, hating the way shame immediately pools in your belly. How could he seem angry and irritated with you, then borderline kind, and then completely disinterested in your feelings the next? It’s disorienting, and you don’t need that on top of everything else.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

Grabbing your arm in a grip just bordering on painful, James pulls you out of your bedroom and back down the hall. He holds on as you stumble behind him in your heels. When you reach the ground floor hallway again, he drops his hand and offers you his arm. You’re hesitant to take it, but he sighs a little and you decide that it’s easier to give in than to put up a fight.

The two of you walk back into the dining room and the conversations immediately hush. James leads you to your waiting seats, pulls out the chair for you, and then helps you scoot towards the table again once you’re seated. As he takes his spot beside you, your father speaks up.

“Have you and James discussed when you’ll be getting married?” he asks.

You pick up your fork and stare at the strange food on your plate, ignoring him. Though your stomach is churning, you force yourself to take a bite. He can’t expect you to answer while you’re chewing—it would be bad manners.

“Next spring,” James answers. “In the rose garden.”

You want to spit on the roses. You swallow your food instead.

“Good choice,” Mr. Barnes agrees. He turns his attention back to your father. “Your daughter is quite the well-behaved woman. She’ll do well with our James.”

Beside you, James tenses again, his grip tightening slightly on his fork. You glance at him, holding your breath, and wait until he relaxes again to take another bite of your food.

The rest of the dinner passes with mundane, meaningless conversations. Nobody addresses you for the remainder of the meal, not even your parents, and finally the men begin to make their way out of the dining room to an adjoining room. You hadn’t even realized there was a room connected; the door is hidden amongst the paneling and crown molding on the walls.

“You can’t go in there.” James grabs your wrist as you stand to follow the group of men into the new room. His voice isn’t malicious and his grip isn’t tight, but you flinch away from him anyway. It’s only then that you realize the few women that had been in the room are leaving through the door to the hall with their wineglasses in hand.

“Because I’m a woman?” you counter.

“Because you don’t want to hear the things that they’re going to discuss,” he answers. He tosses his napkin on the table and stands, towering over you. After a long second of eye contact, he steps away from you and heads towards the men.

You watch him go and silently weigh your options. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have even thought about following the men into the second room. You would have simply taken the same path as the other woman, though your wine would have continued to remain untouched. Now, however, with your wine in hand, you stood at a crossroads. You could go into the room and potentially face the wrath of your father, James, and George Barnes, or you could live forever curious as to what was actually being discussed.

With your mind made up, you down your wine, step around James, and head through the open door into the room. It’s a study with dark wood paneling on the walls, leather couches, and stale cigar smoke in the air. As soon as you enter, the laughter and conversation stop and all eyes land on you.

“Y/N, you should be with Winnie and your mother,” Mr. Barnes says, stepping towards you. James is behind you now and though you’re hedged in, you simply lift your chin at the older man.

“Why? Am I not allowed to know what family I’m marrying into?”

His face darkens. “Girl, I’m warning you—”

“Don’t speak to my wife like that.” James’ voice from over your shoulder startles you and you quickly turn your head, looking back at him with shock.

Why is he suddenly standing up for me?

“Hold your tongue, James,” his father snaps. “You aren’t married yet, and Y/N needs to learn her place. One would think her father would have taught her better, considering the problems his wife caused.”

Though you hate your parents for what they’ve done to you, your blood boils at the insult. Your anger rears its ugly head even more when you realize that your father doesn’t look intent on standing up for you or your mom, either.

“That’s enough!”

You swear the room rattles around you when James shouts and you grit your teeth, furious at Mr. Barnes. How dare he insult your father? How dare he talk to you and his son that way?

James grabbing your hand shocks you back into reality. Once again, his grip is almost painfully tight, but you force your face to reveal nothing.

“Y/N and I are going out. If I so much as hear that you’ve said a single thing about her in my absence, you will regret ever giving me any kind of power in this business,” he growls. “The next time you see her, I expect that you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.”

The men stare at you and James in disbelief, and then you find yourself being practically dragged out of the room. You’re too stunned to fight back, so you let him pull you across the ground floor of the estate to a door only two down from the dark room where you’d hit the morning your parents had left you behind.

“We’ll have to take the car, unless you’re okay riding the bike in that dress,” James says, pushing open the door. He doesn’t look back at you as he speaks, and it takes you a second to realize he wants a response.

“Car,” you answer after a few seconds. “Please.”

The room James has led you to is a massive garage, stretching farther than you ever realized a similar room could. Three of the walls are made of light gray cement, as are the floor and ceiling, and the fourth wall is made up of windowed garage doors, each one big enough for several cars to drive through simultaneously. Running down the center of the rectangular garage, there is a row of seven parked cars, with enough space to fit at least another car between each one, and beyond that, you can see a row of several motorcycles parked in a similar manner. The cars are in varying shades of gray and black, with the exception of one red sports car at the far end of the group. You can’t see the bikes well enough from the door, but you catch glimpses of blue, silver, gray, and black.

Four enormous, black and silver tool chests are lined up against the wall facing the hoods of the cars, but there isn’t a spot of oil or dirt in sight. You don’t even see any loose tools or equipment. Looking around, you wonder if the tool chests are just there for decoration, or if someone on the estate actually works on the cars and motorcycles.

Maybe James works on them?

“Are all of these yours?” you ask, unable to help yourself. He seems like the kind of guy who would enjoy driving around for fun, and he’s just mentioned something about a bike. You stare at the side of James’ face as he plucks a set of keys off a black pegboard on the wall. There’s a button embedded in the wall beside the board. James pushes it with one thumb and the keys in his hand bump against the wall.

One of the garage doors near the last few cars starts to roll upwards onto the ceiling, revealing the outside of the estate. The sun has completely disappeared from the sky, and the moonlight is blocked by the clouds you’d seen rolling in earlier in the afternoon. The leaves of the large shade trees that surround the estate and form a protective shield from the outside world rustle in the wind. Crickets and cicadas chirp, reminding you of the cool spring nights you’d spent on your family estate as a little girl. You’d run around in the grass near the garden while your mom or your nanny watched you. Sometimes your father’s men would watch from the perimeter of the property, and when you’d wave, they’d wave back, asking what you’d done that day. You always answered them, even if you knew it would get you in trouble. They never stopped asking either, even if it got them in trouble, too.

You stop walking and close your eyes, then breathe in deeply as the night air rushes into the garage. It’s the first time you’ve been even close to the outdoors since arriving at the Barnes Estate. Your skin is still warm from the stifling dining room and the anger you’d felt in the men’s study. The breeze is a blessed relief, even if you do shiver after only a moment. Goosebumps form on your exposed skin—the dress Marta had picked out for you did little to keep you safe from the elements.

James keeps walking down the aisle formed by the wall and the front of the cars, though you hear his footsteps pause a few moments after you stop following him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You’re a little surprised that he’s not demanding that you catch up. When you open your eyes, you immediately meet his gaze, and a weird feeling bubbles up in your stomach. The expression on his face betrays little, but his stare reminds you of the way your father’s men looked at you all those years ago—interested and almost fond, but ready to push you away at a moment’s notice. You nod and hurry to catch up with him.

Once you get closer, James presses a button on the key fob in his hand. One of the cars in front of the open garage door rumbles to life. The sound it makes is a low purr, almost seductive, and you raise an eyebrow as James approaches, then runs his fingers over the hood. Even if the others aren’t, this car has to be his. It’s a sleek black, with dark tinted windows and a gleaming silver grill in the front. The BMW logo shines proudly in the center. It looks like a car your own father would own. Though you know he’s never owned a BMW, if this car is anything like the ones in your father’s fleet, you know that the inside will be as much a picture of luxury as the outside.

You slide into the passenger seat when James opens the door for you, and in the time it takes him to cross around the front of the car to the driver’s side, you take inventory of the interior. It’s a manual transmission—something your father once said was obsolete, except for car collectors and enthusiasts—which means that you wouldn’t be able to drive it, even if you tried. The car is pristine, so much so that you’re afraid to move. Two water bottles are in the cupholders, and it still smells brand new inside. There isn’t a speck of dirt or dust on the dashboard, nor on the floor mats. The leather seat is soft and there’s a control for seat warming and cooling on the control panel.

James climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door. He buckles up and you follow his lead, and then you sit back as he reverses the car out of the garage and onto a winding driveway that leads you around the front of the estate, then along the other side to a large gate with a guard house. You’d forgotten about the extensive security since the last time you’d been outside the Barnes Estate. Your father had handed over your driver’s license, along with his and your mother’s, before breakfast all those weeks ago, and there’d been a strange code word of some kind. It dawns on you as the guard opens the gate for you and James that you’d never gotten your license back.

“Where are we going?” you ask as James pulls onto the main road. It leads away from the estate and into the city.

“To get some real food,” he replies. His tone is gruff, and it feels like he’s on the verge of an angry outburst, so you slump back in your seat as he shifts gears and the car accelerates. The tension in the car is thick. You don’t want to be the one to deal with it, especially since he’s the one creating it.

After several minutes of watching the enormous mansions and the forests surrounding them pass by, you look over at James again. His expression, just like in the garage, reveals nothing, but you can tell that he’s more put-together than the last time you’d interacted, and it’s not just the tailored suit. His hair has been trimmed and styled, and he has an even dusting of stubble that frames his jawline nicely.

In the time since you’d learned you were engaged, James hasn’t said anything to you. You’ve heard him talking in the hallways as you wandered, but you haven’t wanted to be near him. This is the closest you’ve ever been. Your brief conversations so far tonight make up the majority of the words you’ve spoken to each other. His words from the bedroom echo in your head, until finally, you can’t help but blurt out your thoughts.

“Do you really not want to marry me?” you ask. Your voice sounds small and pathetic, and you hate it, but it’s too late now.

He glances over at you with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift. “What do you mean?”

You sit up a little in the seat, though you keep your hands in your lap and you try not to move your feet, just in case there’s dirt on your shoes.

“I mean,” you say, watching him carefully for his reaction, “that when you came to get me upstairs, you said you didn’t want to marry me. Is that really true?”

“I never said that.” He shifts gears again as you near a stoplight, and the car slows.

“Yes, you did.”

“No,” he shifts again, his teeth now clenched, “I didn’t. I asked if it looked like I wanted to marry you, and you said it didn’t. But I never said I didn’t want to.”

Now you’re confused, and you frown at him, ignoring the obvious irritation in his voice. The car rolls to a stop behind a Ferrari blasting music out the open windows.

“So you do want to marry me?” you ask.

He sighs and drops his hand from the gear shift, then looks over at you. “Y/N, I’m not going to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, so if this is you testing to see how I’ll treat you, then you have nothing to worry about. I’m not a monster.”

“It’s not. I just…” You stop, unsure of how to phrase what you’re feeling. It’s strange to be upset over a marriage you don’t even want, but for some reason, you are.

“What?”

“If you don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry you, then why are we going along with this?” you finally ask, settling for the bigger question than the one that’s truly nagging at you.

“Because we know that if we don’t, life will be hell,” he answers.

It’s the truth. You know it is, and you know it deep down. If the two of you refuse this marriage, your life will be worse than you could possibly imagine, and you’re fairly certain that your fathers will find a way to make it happen anyhow. They’re well-connected in every sphere of life, not just when it comes to drugs and weapons. Your father probably has a priest on his payroll.

The light turns green and James moves the car forward again, merging into the right lane almost immediately. He slows as you approach a valet stand outside an upscale bar you’ve never heard of. It’s not one of your father’s, which means it probably belongs to George Barnes.

Then again, you think as a uniformed man opens your door, maybe it belongs to James.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Barnes,” a valet on the other side of the car greets.

James hands him the keys. “You too, Tommy. Listen, don’t park it too far off. We’re not staying too long.”

The man nods and climbs into the driver’s seat as your own valet leads you away from the curb. James meets you next to the valet stand and offers you his arm, then heads towards the doors.

“What is this place?” you ask as he holds open the door for you.

“My friend’s bar,” James says.

Your stomach twists itself in knots as heavy club music starts to get louder. The bass rumbles in your chest and you dig your nails into his arm as you near a set of glossy black double doors. You haven’t been to a club in a long time. The last time you’d gone, you’d been dragged by a childhood acquaintance, but you’d spent most of the night alone after she’d ditched you for someone she met on the dance floor. You’re not particularly eager to relive that experience tonight, especially with the man you’re being forced to marry. Who’s to say he won’t ditch you for someone else right in front of you, just to rub it in your face? After all, he’d said it himself in the bedroom—you’ll do what you want and he’ll do what he wants. It’s the cards you’ve been dealt.

If these are the cards, then I’ve got a sucky hand.

“James—”

“Bucky.”

You stop and squint at him in the low light of the entrance hallway. The two bouncers in all-black suits stop with their hands on the door handles, ready to open them for you once you start walking again. The music pounds in your ears, so much so that you can feel your eardrums vibrating.

“What?” you ask, not sure you’d heard him correctly.

“Bucky,” repeats James, a little louder this time. “You should call me Bucky, if we’re going to be married.”

“Is that… a nickname?”

Even in the darkness, you can see him laugh, and a bashful, boyish smile spreads across his face. “My middle name is Buchanan. Steve used to tease me about it when we were kids, and he started calling me Bucky as a joke. It caught on.” He shrugs it off, but there’s a fondness in his voice when he speaks of his childhood friend, and it makes you smile just a little.

You loosen your grip on his arm. “Okay then. Bucky,” you add.

When Bucky steps forward again, the doors are pulled open, revealing a much more casual bar than you could’ve anticipated. Though it’s clean, it looks a little run down, and the heavy music fades into jazz piano as you step through the open doorway and into the large, open space. With almost cathedral-height ceilings, walnut floors and support pillars, and well-worn wooden booths and tables, the bar feels more homier than you’d expected. It’s clearly been well-hidden from the busy crowds of New York. Only a few patrons are scattered around the room, sitting in the booths or at two-top tables, but Bucky leads you to the wood, u-shaped bar that juts out into the room from the back wall. A single man stands behind it, drying glasses with a white bar towel. He smiles when he looks up and sees you approaching.

“Bucky,” he greets, and he reaches over the bar to pull Bucky in for a hug. It’s the first time you see Bucky smile—a real, full, genuine smile—and you watch in silence as he hugs his friend.

“Steve,” Bucky replies. Instantly, your brain starts connecting the dots. This is his childhood friend, the one who gave him his nickname.

“Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil.” Steve turns his attention to you, and you quickly look away from Bucky and at him. Your brain whirs as you try to place the language he’s just spoken. It’s not one you’ve heard before, which means none of your father’s men speak it, and neither do any of the Barneses.

“You must be Y/N.”

You nod and offer Steve a small, polite smile. You’re not sure how to act around Bucky’s friends. If they’re also part of the mob, it’s possible they’ll treat you even worse than George Barnes had after dinner, but a new, surprising voice in your head argues that Bucky would never be friends with someone like that.

“It’s okay,” reassures Bucky. He reaches out and touches your arm, gentler than he has all evening. “Steve’s a nice guy, and he knows about our family businesses. You can trust him.”

Steve looks between the two of you before picking up a glass and setting it right-side-up in front of you. “What’ll it be, Y/N?”

You glance at him, then at the wall of liquor behind him. After a moment, you list off a drink that’s not your favorite, but that you know you’ll be able to stomach no matter the circumstances. Steve nods in response before starting to make it.

Silently, Bucky takes one of the chairs at the bar, and you do the same. He sits with his arms folded on the counter. He’s still wearing his suit from dinner. You feel a little out of place in your fancy clothes, and you wonder if he feels the same.

Your drink is placed in front of you a moment later, and after Steve’s silent prompting, you take a sip. It’s delicious, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“Aha, I’ve still got it!” Steve cheers, and you laugh. He grins at you, a charming type of smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You feel a little sheepish at the intensity of his joy, and you fidget in your seat, then with your hair.

Beside you, Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses a round paper coaster at his friend. “Knock it off, Rogers,” he huffs. “Stop flirting with my girl. You’ve already got one of your own.”

You glance over when he calls you that, but you don’t say anything. There’s another weird feeling in your gut now. This one, unlike the one you’d had in the car or the fluttering feeling Steve had given you, you recognize immediately—pride. It feels good to have Bucky call you “his girl”, even if you barely know him. It’s strange, and the thought makes you squirm in your seat again. You drop your hand down to the bartop and take another sip of your drink, trying to quell the strange feelings inside of you.

What is going on with me? Why can’t I just feel normal about all of this? Is there even a normal way to feel about this?

“You hungry?” asks Bucky, and you nod when you realize he’s talking to you again.

“I make a mean twice-baked potato,” Steve says. He plants his hands on the bar to look between the two of you. “Whaddaya say, Y/N? You up for it?”

“Only if you put the jalapeños on the side this time, punk,” Bucky tells him before you can reply. He seems to remember himself a second later, however, because he looks over at you. “Unless, of course, you want them on top.”

You shrug, not wanting to upset anyone, and Steve groans.

“Come on, Y/N,” he says, and he smiles wide as he gestures around the almost-empty bar. “I’ve got all the time in the world to make your food exactly the way you want it. Don’t make me guess.”

“He’s bad at guessing,” Bucky chimes in.

“Terrible,” Steve adds, nodding earnestly.

Tentatively, you list off what you want, and Steve makes a note of everything on a notepad that seems to appear out of nowhere. Once he’s got your order down, he disappears through a door in the back wall. Before it closes, you catch a glimpse of a shining kitchen filled with stainless steel, and you wonder how many patrons come through the bar if Steve has what looks to be a full-sized kitchen in the back.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured I’d bring you someplace that actually has good food,” Bucky says. He reaches across the bar to grab a bottle of beer Steve has left out, and he uses one hand to pry the top off.

You gape at him, too distracted by the blatant show of strength to properly process the very thoughtful thing he’s just said to you. “What?”

“I said that you didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured—”

“You just pulled the top off like it was nothing. How did you do that?” You look around on Steve’s side of the bar for another bottle, hoping to try your luck. Maybe it’s some new kind of bottle that he’s trying out before it hits the market, or maybe Steve has bootleg beer with a different kind of cap.

Bucky is staring at you, seemingly just as confused as you. “With my arm.”

“With your arm?” you repeat. You’re certain that he’d used his hand to pry it off.

He stares at you for a second longer before the confusion disappears and is replaced with a glint of mischief in his eyes. It makes the shadows on his face melt away a little, and his blue irises seem bright and youthful again, entirely unlike a man who’s seen too much.

“My arm,” he reiterates, and then he pulls off the black glove you’d assumed to be part of his personal style. It’s not just for show, however, because he pulls it off to reveal a black metal hand with dull gold knuckles. Bucky continues, standing and shrugging off his jacket, then rolling up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. As he reveals more and more, you realize that the black metal continues, making up what would be his left arm.

No wonder it hurt when he grabbed me.

“It’s metal,” you dumbly say, and he snorts.

“Observant.”

You shake your head and look from his arm to meet his eyes. “You have a metal arm. How didn’t I know that?”

Bucky shrugs and drapes his jacket over the back of the chair. He leaves the glove on the bar where he’d first set it down. Once he’s seated again, he rolls up his other sleeve to match.

“Beats me. I figured everyone knew. My dad wasn’t subtle when he was bragging about the arm he had made for me when it first happened,” replies Bucky. He takes a sip of his beer, then sighs and sets it back down.

You don’t want to pity him, so you try your best to school your expression by taking a sip of your own drink.

“Was it an accident?” you ask after a minute has passed. He doesn’t reply right away, and you scramble to save the conversation. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen,” he says, and his voice is quieter than before.

You look back down at the drink in front of you. Twisting the glass around and around, you ask, “And it was an accident?”

Bucky takes another swig of his beer. “I was with my dad, working a job. I didn’t even realize I’d been injured until I woke up in the hospital, two weeks later, missing an arm. Apparently, falling shipping containers are heavy.”

You can’t help but curse. What he’s describing sounds horrible, but Bucky only laughs.

“That sounds about right, yeah. I’m lucky I had Steve around to keep me sane,” he tells you. “My friend Sam was a big help too, but he moved down to Louisiana a few years ago.”

“Steve seems like a good friend,” you agree. “They both do.”

You can feel Bucky staring at you now, and you take a sip of your drink while you wait for him to look away again. When he doesn’t, you glance in his direction.

“What?” you ask.

“What?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are!” you laugh, and you look at him fully this time. Bucky’s grinning, and you ball up a cocktail napkin and toss it at him.

“Okay, I was staring,” he admits, still smiling. “But I can’t help it. You’re pretty, and you’re nice, and you seem smart.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment, and you look away. “You don’t have to say that. We’re already engaged.”

“I’m not saying it because we’re engaged. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

You don’t have a chance to reply before Steve comes out with two hot plates. He places them in front of you, joking briefly about giving you the wrong order, and it’s distraction enough that you sit up tall and smile wide. You push Bucky’s compliment out of your head as you chow down, groaning and moaning about the potatoes. They’re exactly what you need after the stressful dinner. Bucky was right—you hadn’t eaten much, and Steve’s cooking is delicious.

Once you’re full, you push your plate away and lean back in your chair. Steve grins at you before he goes back to counting the cash drawer. The other patrons have left already, leaving you, Steve, and Bucky alone in the bar.

“That was amazing,” you tell him for the hundredth time, and Steve chuckles.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell mo bhean chéile—my wife—you said that, considering she still believes potatoes aren’t a meal.”

You notice the wedding band on his left hand as soon as he says it. Above it, also in silver, is a familiar ring. If you weren’t able to see the family crest, you would’ve thought it was the same as Bucky’s, but this ring has an eagle and a star engraved on it, rather than the wolf you’ve seen on Rebecca and Bucky’s rings.

“Potatoes are a meal!” you argue. You can tell that Steve has clocked you looking at his rings because he shifts his hand, instinctively blocking your view as he looks for your own ring. You’d taken your parent’s ring off the day you’d cried in the bathtub and you haven’t worn it since, but no one in Bucky’s family has replaced it with their own. It’s the first time since middle school that you haven’t worn a family ring, and you’d be lying if you said it was a weight off your shoulders. You’d thought it might be, but instead it just makes you feel naked.

Steve laughs and his posture relaxes. He stops hiding his rings from you when he realizes your hands are bare. “Well, whenever you meet her, you can have that argument with her, because I’ve already had it at least a dozen times.” He closes the drawer and fixes his eyes on Bucky, who’s just finishing his food. “Speaking of, when are you two coming over? I promised Peg I’d wait until Y/N had settled in to ask, and you seem settled enough to me.” He glances at you for the last part, and you look down at your empty plate.

“It’s not up to me,” answers Bucky. “We’ll come over whenever Y/N is ready. This is the first time we’ve been together since my dad dropped the bomb on us.”

Steve pauses, his hands on the tablet he’d set down before starting to count the night’s profits. “Wait. Really?”

You nod when he looks at you, suddenly self-conscious again, and you pull your hands into your lap. “I haven’t been the best house guest…”

“You’re not a guest, Y/N. It’s your home now, too,” Bucky interjects.

Reaching over the counter, Steve smacks the side of Bucky’s head. His accent is thick when he huffs, “Íosa Críost, you thick! You didn’t think to go talk to her? To see if she wanted to watch a movie? To see if she needed anything?”

Bucky stammers over in his seat, and you keep your head ducked to hide your smile. Clearly, Steve knows more about being married than Bucky does—most likely from experience, since he’s already mentioned his wife—and he isn’t afraid to tell his friend off for not looking out for your well-being.

“I’m sorry!” exclaims Bucky, ducking another hit. “I wasn’t thinking!”

“Like ifreann you weren’t!” Steve retreats and picks up the tablet with a huff, then looks at you. “Y/N, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him. He’s actually a nice guy when he’s not being stupid.”

“Stupid?” Bucky protests beside you.

“I wouldn’t have talked to him even if he’d tried,” you admit, finally looking up, “but it wouldn’t have hurt if he had.”

Steve nods, satisfied with your response. He leaves you a minute later when his phone rings. The wide smile on his face is enough to tell you who’s on the other end, but then he says her name as he walks away, the phone already held to his ear.

“So what’s with this place?” you ask. The quick change in subject is purposeful, and you hope that Bucky will take the bait.

Thankfully, he does. Bucky glances around before finishing off the last of his drink and setting the empty bottle closer to Steve’s side of the bar.

“Well, Steve wanted a place that we—and other people like us—could spend time without feeling like there was always a fight about to happen. We didn’t have that growing up, you know? And now that he’s in charge, he can do what he wants with his money. Everything’s filed properly, he doesn’t advertise, and all employees are paid above the table. If other people show up, then sure, they’re welcomed in, but they’re also fully vetted once Steve gets their IDs. Weapons aren’t allowed, and there’s no shop talk of any kind.”

“So it’s your little hideaway,” you say, propping your head up with one hand. The heaviness of the potatoes combined with the alcohol is starting to make you sleepy, and the emotional exhaustion from the night has started to weigh heavy on you, too.

He smiles a little. “Something like that.”

Bucky stands and rolls his sleeves back down, then pulls on his glove. He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and sets it on the bar.

“Come on, doll. We should head home,” he says.

The warm feeling you’d felt when Bucky had called you his girl comes back, and you smile a little when he holds open his suit jacket for you. A little sheepish at the gesture, you slide off your seat and let him help you into the sleeves, then take Bucky’s hand when he offers it.

“Bye Steve!” you call, waving with your free hand.

Steve looks up from the other end of the bar, where he’s wiping down a counter with one hand and holding his phone with the other. He lets go of the rag to wave back.

Silently, Bucky leads you out to the front, where the valet already has his car pulled up. You’re not sure how they knew to have it ready, but you don’t dwell on it. Stranger things have happened in your world. Bucky tips the valets with another wad of cash before opening the passenger door and helping you in.

You fall asleep on the drive home. You don’t mean to, but Bucky turns on the radio a few minutes into the drive, and he lets the first station that comes on continue to play. The music is soft, and he drives so smoothly that it lulls you to sleep before you’re even fully out of the city.

When you wake, it’s because Bucky’s stubbed his toe on something, jostling you in his arms. He’s muttering curses under his breath and hobbling down the hallway, and though the jerking motion and his tightening grip isn’t the most comfortable for you at the moment, you keep your eyes closed and force yourself to keep your smile at bay. Bucky is a much sweeter guy than you’d first thought him to be, and it seems like he’s trying now to make up for lost time. You’d misjudged him at first; just like you, he has his own ways of dealing with the life forced on him by his parents, but he really is a gentleman underneath it all.

He carries you to your bedroom and carefully lays you on top of the covers. Then, as gently as possible, you feel him lift your foot and pry off the uncomfortable shoes Marta had picked out for you. Bucky stays totally silent as he takes the shoes off and sets them on the floor at the end of the bed. He pulls a thin blanket over you, one that you’re sure is just for decoration when the bed is made, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. You have to force yourself not to smile when he whispers,

“Goodnight, sleep tight.”

The door clicks shut as he closes it slowly, and you peek open an eye after a few seconds have passed. Your room is dark and empty. Silently, you smile to yourself and crawl under the covers, your eyes heavy. It’s been a long, exhausting evening, and you’re happy to be in bed. You fall asleep to the sound of spring rain on the estate windows and with Bucky’s jacket still wrapped around you.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky slowly enters your life in both big and small ways. He smiles at you over meals in the dining room and late night snacks in the kitchen. He drives you to the city to visit Steve, Peggy, and his other friends, and when he finds out that his father still has your license, Bucky argues with him for over an hour to get it back. Marta delivers your license to your room the very next day, along with a handwritten note that the dark blue Mercedes in the garage is there for your use. Sometimes, you wake up to a bouquet of flowers with another handwritten note. Sometimes it’s a text, and sometimes it’s a gift. Bucky develops a habit of purchasing anything you mention enjoying or even vaguely liking, and you eventually have to tell him to stop because he’s bought you so much that there’s nothing left to buy for yourself.

Bucky turns out to be a closer friend than anyone you’ve ever known. He’s kind, and funny, and intelligent, and he remembers all the little things about you that nobody else does. When you’re sick or feeling lonely, he’s attentive and his presence alone reminds you of all the good things in the world. He makes your days brighter, even the worst ones. You find yourself falling in love with him, much to your surprise. You admit this to him one day. He kisses you then, and he tells you that he’s been in love with you since the first trip you’d taken to Steve’s bar.

Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas roll around. New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, and Easter come and go. The Barnes’ grand celebrations for every holiday blur together as the months fly by, until eventually, it’s June and you’re standing in your room, staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror.

The wedding dress you’d picked out a few days after Christmas is just as beautiful as you remember it being. It fits you perfectly, thanks to the impeccable work of several tailors employed by Winnifred, and your hair and makeup are flawless as well. There’s no possible way you could’ve imagined how beautiful you look and feel on your wedding day.

Through the open window, you can hear a string quartet playing outside in the rose garden, where the ceremony is set up. Steve has already come by once to check on you at Bucky’s request, but both men are back downstairs. Bucky’s no doubt at the front of the garden with the priest—the one that you now know for certain is on your father’s payroll—and Steve is waiting with the rest of the wedding party. The only people remaining in your room are Marta, your mother, and Peggy.

You’ve grown to love Peggy more than any of your childhood friends. She didn’t grow up in the same world as you. She didn’t even grow up in the same country, and you love her all the more for it. She’s rational, cool-headed, and kind, though she’s not afraid to stand up for what’s right. On top of all that, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. It’s easy to see why Steve fell for her during his time in the military.

The quartet finishes the song and moves onto a new one, one that you recognize after only two notes. Your stomach drops and you close your eyes, gripping your bouquet tightly. It’s the song you’d been listening to the morning you’d found out about your engagement. You’d discovered it the night before, and you’d had it on repeat before going to sleep that night, then again that morning as you’d gotten ready. You’d even listened to it in the car on the drive from your parents’ estate.

Who added this to the playlist? Is this some kind of sick joke to them?

The same feeling of dread you’d felt that morning comes back, making your mouth dry and your head spin. You try to take a slow, deep breath to calm your nerves and block out the song, but it doesn’t work.

“Y/N?” Peggy asks.

You inhale sharply at the sound of her voice so close to you. She’d been texting Steve from near the window only moments before. You hadn’t thought that anyone would realize your distress, and you’d hoped to be able to collect yourself before it was noticeable. You hadn’t even sensed her coming closer.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell her, but your voice wavers and your lower lip quivers. You try to take another slow breath.

“What’s going on?” Marta asks. Her hand lands on your arm and you pull away, closing in yourself and pulling the bouquet tight against you.

Your mother’s scolding makes you feel like you’re a little kid again. “Careful, Y/N! You don’t want to ruin those flowers. We don’t have time to make another bouquet for you. George is already hounding your father about how soon after the ceremony you’ll be signing the certificate.”

Anger wells up in you at her thoughtless comment, and you open your eyes. She’s standing behind you in the main part of the bedroom, near the foot of your bed. Any guilt you might’ve felt over ruining the flowers is gone now, and you turn and chuck the bouquet at the carpet by her feet. It bounces once, then lays motionless in a heap of smashed petals and ribbons.

“Enough, Mother!” you shout.

Marta rushes to close the window so the guests in the garden won’t hear your outburst.

Your mother gapes at you, somewhat surprised, but she doesn’t budge. “Y/N, dear. What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” you yell, stepping closer. Your dress swishes as you walk, and you normally enjoy the sound, but you’re too furious to care how pleasing it is. “What are you doing? I am your only daughter! You should be treating me like a princess and worrying about how I’m feeling and what I need, but instead you’re too busy thinking about the damn flowers! I’m sick of you thinking of me like I’m an object you can sell, steal, and trade away whenever it’s most convenient! You and Dad are so obsessed with the timeline you’ve created for yourselves that you don’t even notice how much this has affected me! You didn’t even ask if this is what I wanted!”

She scoffs at you, and any trace of motherly care and concern has disappeared from her expression. Your mother is showing her true face—the mafia wife that has almost as much blood on her own hands as her husband does, if not more.

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” she asks. She picks up her clutch from the end of your bed and steps closer until you're standing eye to eye. Her voice is patronizing and infuriating, and she continues, “It’s your wedding day, dearest, and you can’t back out now. We’ve made sure of it. Even James has agreed to the contract.”

Your anger wavers. “Contract?”

“Yes, the contract,” she repeats, smirking. Her cards are all on the table now, and she’s got a winning hand. You both know it.

There’s a malicious glint in her eye as she says, “It’s already in effect. It has been since we agreed on the marriage.”

“What contract? What are you talking about?” There’s a sinking feeling in your chest, like your heart has decided to drop into your stomach, then down to your feet and through the floor. Bucky hadn’t said anything to you about a contract, and you trusted him, but you certainly didn’t trust your parents anymore, nor did you trust George and Winnifred Barnes.

Your mother smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile that makes you want to puke. “That’s a conversation for another time. After all, it doesn’t even matter to you until James gets you pregnant.”

The alarm on your phone rings and you close your eyes, your hands trembling. You’d set that alarm to remind you when it was time to leave for the ceremony. Right on cue, the wedding planner knocks on the door to your bedroom.

“Y/N?” she calls, knocking again. “Are you ready?”

Slowly, you squat down and pick up the bouquet. It’s smashed on one side and the petals have fallen off of various flowers, but it’s mostly intact. It shakes as your hands tremble and tears well up in your eyes.

Marta appears in front of you, having pushed your mother out of the way, and over the ringing in your ears, you hear Peggy talking to the wedding planner. Somehow, you make it out to the ground floor of the estate, to the double doors that lead out to the rose garden. You’re dazed by your mother’s strange revelation. The sound of the alarm is still ringing in your ears. Peggy says something to you, but you can only stare straight ahead.

Your father is next to you then, as Peggy disappears through the doors and joins the rest of the wedding party. You see her glancing back at you, and whispering to the rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Most of them are Bucky’s friends who have now become your own, and all of them look worried.

“Let’s go, princess,” your father says, and he pulls you forward by the arm.

Numbly, you follow his lead. Not even Bucky’s initially delighted expression shakes you out of your trance, but the way he rubs his thumb over your hands at the end of the aisle pulls you out of it just enough for you to lift your head and look around. You don’t remember walking to him, nor do you remember handing off your bouquet to Peggy, just like you’d practiced last night at the rehearsal.

“Y/N? Darling?” Bucky asks. He crouches and tilts his head slightly to try to catch your eyes. “You okay?”

“I—” Your mouth is still dry and you swallow, your eyes flitting from one place in the garden to another with no rhyme or reason. The world feels like it’s spinning and you clutch Bucky’s hands, unsure of what to do.

“Someone get her a chair,” Bucky orders, raising his voice enough that you flinch. He immediately starts murmuring reassurances to you, and he pulls you into his arms until he can lower you into a seat.

Someone fans you and a cool glass is pressed to your lips. You drink obediently, closing your eyes as the water helps the sandy feeling in your mouth abate just a little. When the water is gone, the glass is pulled away.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Bucky asks.

Slowly, carefully, you nod your head. He sighs in relief and when you open your eyes, he’s kneeling down in front of you. His shoulders are tense and his forehead is creased with worry. You’ve never seen him this stressed over anything and it makes you want to cry.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, heat flaming in your cheeks. You feel horrible. Bucky has been looking forward to the ceremony—he’d told you last night at the rehearsal dinner.

“It’s okay,” he quickly replies. He reaches forward and takes your hands, and you glance away from him to peek at the guests, your parents included, who are still watching you from their seats.

“Are you ready for this, or do you need a break?”

You look back at Bucky. “A break?”

“She’s fine,” your mother says, and you look over at her from your seat. She’s standing in the front row, her eyes fixated on the priest behind you. “They’re fine, Father. Y/N’s been a bit nervous all morning. Wedding day jitters, you know.”

“I—” You frown at her, still clutching Bucky’s hands. “That’s not what it is.” You look down at him and shake your head. “I’m not nervous to marry you.”

“I’m not nervous either,” he says with a small smile.

“Then shall we continue?” the priest asks.

You turn to shake your head at him. “No. I’m sorry, Father. I need to talk to Bucky—James—in private for just a minute. Is that alright?”

He smiles gently and nods. “Of course.”

There are more agitated murmurs from the crowd, but you ignore them as Peggy, Steve, and Bucky help you up and back down the aisle. When your mother moves to follow you, she’s blocked by Sam and Clint, another one of Bucky’s friends. She calls after you once, but you ignore her as Peggy helps you onto a bench inside, then leaves, closing the double doors behind herself. She’s handed back your bouquet, and you clutch it with both hands like it’s an anchor in the storm.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asks. He stands near the door, and you can tell from the way he rolls his shoulders that he’s stressed. His prosthetic always bothers him more when he’s agitated, and you suddenly feel even worse about stopping the ceremony.

“Yes,” you say, but then you shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. Obviously, it’s not, or I wouldn’t have stopped everything. I’m sorry, Bucky, but I have to ask you something.”

“Okay…” There’s a wariness in his eyes, one that you loathe yourself for. You put it there, and you wish with all your might that your mother hadn’t told you what she did. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to do this.

“Did you sign a contract? With our parents?”

He frowns and his whole body grows very still. “A contract?”

You nod. “Yes.” With your hands still fisted tightly around the bouquet, you inhale deeply and add, “A contract about getting me pregnant.”

“What?” Bucky’s furious response is immediate. He shakes his head, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you might be making this up. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“Did you sign a contract agreeing to marry me, and agreeing that my parents get something after you get me pregnant?” The words make you sick to your stomach. You haven’t eaten anything all day, which doesn’t help, but the thought of Bucky agreeing to something so vile… It’s enough to make anyone nauseous.

He’s shaking his head at you again. “Why the hell would I sign anything like that? Do you really think I would do that?”

You shrug a little and look down at the bouquet. “My mother…”

“Darling…” Bucky sighs and comes closer, and he kneels down in front of you again, just like he had outside. All the fight and anger has left his voice. “I would never do anything like that. Not in a million years, and especially not to you. I love you.”

“She said you signed it before they’d even told me we were engaged,” you said, quiet now that he’s so close. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, to see what his face might be telling you that his words aren’t.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, you lift your eyes from the flowers in your lap to meet Bucky’s eyes. They’re just as blue as the ribbons wrapped around the flower stems, a choice you’d specifically made without the wedding planner’s guidance. You’d wanted him to be your “something blue”, even if it felt a little cheesy.

“Do you want to marry me?” Bucky asks.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “Yes.”

“Do you believe me when I say I had nothing to do with that contract? That I didn’t know it existed?” he questions.

You nod again, tears forming in your eyes.

“And do you trust me to help you find a way to get rid of it, once all of this is over? Do you trust me to protect you?”

You nod for the third time, and Bucky takes both of your hands in his.

“Okay. Then let’s get married, and I swear to you that as soon as our honeymoon is over, the guys and I will start doing some digging.”

“What about me?” you ask, sniffling. You pull one of your hands away to dab at your eyes before the makeup can get too damaged by your tears.

“What about you?”

“Can I dig, too?”

Bucky chuckles and kisses your knuckles on the hand that he’s holding, and then he pulls himself up off the floor to sit beside you on the bench. He pulls you into a half-hug and you cling to him, sniffling and smiling as he rubs the your back and answers,

“You can do all the digging you want, doll. I’ll even hand you the shovel.”

Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil. = It’s good to see you.

Mo bhean chéile = My wife

Íosa Críost = Jesus Christ

Thick = A stupid person

Ifreann = Hell

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

If you want to support me further, consider buying me a ko-fi! My ko-fi is also under my SPN fanfiction blog, but I promise it’s me.

If you would like to be added to my tags, please send me a message or an ask! I tag for Everything, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, and Peter Parker.

Forever: @aya-fay

Bucky Barnes: @lipstickandvibranium @valhalla-kristin @buckymcbuckbarnes

1K notes · View notes

nouvxllev · 5 months

Note

CLINGYGRUMPYJENNA X READER!!

plsplsplsplspls

Summary: Co-workers in public, lovers in private 🙌🏼, while shooting for Wednesday, J gets really stressed, and craves for R's intimacy, but can't have that yet until break of dawn, so J basically gets sooo annoyed with anyone who tries talking to her that isn't R.

the waiting game

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: fluf, grumpy & clingy jenna!

a/n: caught basically the nastiest cold for a whole week, but im back! sorry requests taking too long, tryna to balance everything rn but it all will be done soon!!!!

masterlist.

Jenna hasn’t seen you in almost 4 hours, 36 minutes, and 4 fucking seconds.

Yes, she counted, yes, it’s still ongoing, and, yes, she could almost murder someone with her bare hands if time even dares to pass by without you.

What makes matters worse is that she's terribly sleep-deprived even with someone's arms wrapped around her night after night.

Of course, the aforementioned someone swirling in her head 24/7 is you. Her not-quite-lover in public but entirely her beloved behind closed doors.

If Jenna had it her way, she would’ve jumped off a building by now and hard-launched the both of you by herself just so she could get hugs, kisses, and your hand intertwined with hers all she wanted.

Obviously, the universe decides to be a stuck-up bitch just now in their 14 billion years of life, wanting nothing more than to see Jenna Marie Ortega suffer without having you.

But it's fine.

She could get through this.

If there's someone in the world that could handle a single day without your warm hugs and lovely kisses, whether it be on the cheek or the lips, it would be her. She didn't endure almost half a year seeing that godforsaken Wednesday dance to go completely insane without you.

— Is what she kept telling herself 30 seconds earlier before she broke down and almost turned to witchcraft if you don't appear in front of right her.

She could push through with it, like she always does. It's a simple routine that never got the best of her.

Wake up and have breakfast with the love of your life while prepping each other with kisses and whatnot, run to set for the both of you to act out a scene for a while, when break hits all Jenna has to do is intertwine her pinky with yours under the table, then do hair and makeup after, act out a scene then wrap it all up, lie to everyone for the 100th time that her house is just a few steps away from yours, hit a bakery on the way home or maybe an ice cream shop if Jenna feels peckish, break down the apartment door Jenna shares with you, run to the bedroom, and smother each other with kisses and cuddles. Maybe a makeout session if Jenna's lucky.

It's bliss then repeat.

But today just so happens to be the day that Jenna takes over the whole episode, doing stunts and everything with little to no cuts for side characters.

She'd think that you would have nothing to do than act out your scenes—with her—might she add and it'll be all fine and the nights she'd spent waking up at 3 in the morning would be all's well.

But no, unfortunately you were the epitome of the perfect person and everyone just has to drag you around to who knows where to deal with some difficulties.

Plus, the both of you woke up late so she didn't even get the full girlfriend treatment she always got in the morning.

It was completely unfair!

Jenna was tired, grumpy, a bit too snappy, desperate for your attention, and she misses you. Alot.

And by that she means she misses the way you would wrap your arms around her after a busy day of filming together, pull her close, and feel the way how her lips fits perfectly on yours.

She would've dragged you back to bed and cuddle with you if she knew what was about to happen. Every second not spent with you is absolutely meaningless in her book.

Unfortunately, she has to play the waiting game.

She's fucking losing it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was 11 PM on a Thursday night.

Jenna is really so fucking tired, she could almost snap.

She had almost endured five to six hours of you nowhere even near her. The most she even interacted with you on set was when the both of you were acting a scene then abruptly got cut because of technical difficulties.

Plus, everyone but you was talking to her as if she was some kind of star! (she is.)

Jenna almost wished for an accident, or maybe a wardrobe malfunction that leads her to discovering some sort of new allergy about herself, just so she could be rushed off to the hospital and have you fussing over her, then maybe you could hold her hand and kiss her as if she would heal.

"How's it going, Ree—"

"Literally, I mean this in the nicest way possible, shut the fuck up Georgie."

He doesn't respond immediately, his eyes wide open as he steps back in surrender with his hands up in the air. "Ooooohkay!"

The brunette's head shot up immediately, her eyes burning and her shoulders slumped as she sank further into her chair for what felt like the millionth time.

"I... I didn't mean that, I'm so sorry." She closed her eyes shut, rubbing her temples, "I'm doing fine." She reassured herself more than anyone else, gripping the armchair for support.

"Biggest lie ever."

"You caught in Jenna's crossfire too, Emma?

"Oh damn, even Moosa?"

As if on cue, the whole cast decides to join in the damn conversation. Jenna loved them all, really, but it would've been so much better if a certain someone also joined and not far off into the distance talking to one of the editors.

Come on, would it literally kill you to question yourself why half of the cast was surrounding practically the love of your life while you're standing like 10 feet away!?

"You seem tense, J."

"Something wrong?"

"You've been staring at us for an hour with that Kubrick Stare of yours."

Who's exactly talking to her? Georgie, Emma, Moosa, it's all in that order but their voices seemed deranged, and it couldn't be any more worse when she's been trying to catch your eye for what seemed like the past hour.

She couldn't take shit when she's horribly missing you. So, she bites, and raises her voice more than she should, "Should I close my eyes to spare you the terrible fucking horror? Fuck, man!"

Jenna let an exasperated sigh escape from her mouth as she rose to her feet, eyeing the group with probably the most intense stare someone could bear witness to. She half-expected she'd get another pain-in-the-ass comeback from atleast one of them, but she was met with unusual silence.

The three look practically horrified, as if they were seeing the fictional idea of Wednesday Addams in the form of a 5'1, 22 year old woman dressed as her. Like they have the small but terrible quote running gears in their heads.

She heard them in unison muttering quiet apologies, "Sorry, Jenna…"

Her mind told her to forgive them for whatever they did, but her heart told her y/n.

"No, no it's fine." The brunette shook her head, her words forming icicles on each synonym and her eyes were like seeing inside of a storm. Without the peaceful atmosphere of an eye, clearly. "I'm just... stressed. Is Y/n free?"

Emma tilted her head to the side, "Actually, I never really saw them that much today, no?" She exchanged glances with the both of them.

"Heard they're busy with the tech team," Georgie crossed his arms, "Even for an actor, they've got a skill to be a director with how familiar they are behind the scenes."

Moosa nodded in agreement, "Yeah, they've been pretty tied up with all the technical stuff lately. Must be exhausting."

For fuck sakes, why did you have to be the most perfect and talented goddamn person?

"Why you looking for them?"

Jenna definitely did not need another goddamn voice entering her goddamn space.

She could almost roll her eyes and flip everybody off if not for Joy and the others being the most precious co-stars of them all.

"Because!" Jenna exclaimed, her voice cracking while lifting her arms in the air, "Y/n's my fucking lov...-"

Oh, shit.

"Lov...?"

"...Lovely neighbor." She blinked. "They... They bake me some cookies whenever I get in a bad mood."

Oh to fucking hell with this lovers in private bullshit. Lovely neighbor, that was the best damn excuse she could come up with?

"Well, heard they went home early because of an emergency, but it's kinda pouring out—"

It was in Jenna and Jenna alone on how insanely and horrifyingly fast she bolted out of the conversation, quickly changed clothes, thanking to the literal heavens (fuck the universe, Jenna will die on this hill) that Tim wrapped up early.

Josh. Josh was always the one you manage to bring up to be one of the most carefree guys in set, it's certain that he knew wherever the fuck you went. Actually, you always looked so happy whenever you talked to her about Josh and how much he lends with whatever left over set pieces they had, it's almost insane that you were—

"Aliyah, I'd tell you to shut up and fuck off as of this moment but I am literally too tired to even say that, what!?"

"Jenna, where the hell is your hoodie you wore on Christmas Eve!? I literally told you like an hour before your half-assed reply to tell me where'd you put your clothes."

Of course her sisters, more specifically Aliyah Goddamn Ortega, would find the most perfect timing to call her about the stupidest shit there could ever be.

"Okay, now, fuck off."

Jenna grimaced through gritted teeth as she hung up. She loved her sister, but does she love you more? Absolutely.

"Josh!" She called out, running towards him, "Sorry, kind of abrupt, but do you know where Y/n went?" Atleast she had some decency left in her to be polite to some.

"Actually—"

"Let one more word come out of your mouth not related to my question, and I swear, Josh—"

"Y/n left early, they told me to tell you but I guess I forgot."

Maybe a little too carefree.

"You fucking guess!?— I mean, yes, thank you. I’ll be going."

Oh, the waiting game is a pain in the ass.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You pace back and forth in Jenna's apartment, your socks making a dent in the fuzzy carpet in the living room Jenna bought when you moved in with her, a nail in between your teeth and rain pouring in the background.

How in the hell did you forget possibly all your devices on fucking set!?

Your phone was dead, and your laptop was unfortunately abandoned by its owner (yours truly) and you have no way of contacting your lovely girlfriend.

And worse of all, it was a little over midnight.

All this because you got a notification that someone was at the door for an hour.

And it was just a fucking cat. (To be fair, they were really cute.)

You were starting to worry, especially how it was pouring outside like there was a hurricane incoming and how you left early without Jenna intertwining her warm and soft hands around yours.

So not only did you leave all your devices behind, but you also left Jenna without any means of contacting you.

You almost cursed yourself, maybe even doing the most stupidest and financially unstable decision of ordering a new phone as if it was going to be delivered same day.

Until you heard a slight click and a door opening.

There were times thunder struck, but it definitely did not beat the way your heart almost leaps into your throat as you hear the door opening.

You pause in your steps, a deep breath stuck in your mouth as you cross the living room and peer through the door way.

The door swung open and you're met with the, one of the most gorgeous and relieving sights you may add, of Jenna standing there. Slightly damp and with an... angry? Expression on her face.

"Jenna!" You blurted out, rushing over to her and enveloping her in a tight hug. "Did Josh fill you in? I feel terrible for getting home early, I'm so sorry. There was this whole thing I had to deal with, then the rain came pouring down, and I thought I'd at least get you a cab—"

"Shh. Just stay still. And preferably quiet."

When she's in your arms, she melts in the warmth of the comfort you bring to her. "Guess you caught the cab." You whisper under your breath.

You notice her breathing slowing down, the tension in her body easing away, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she buries her head in your neck. A sway the both of you took upon as she tugged at your chest with her hands wrapped around your body.

Jenna felt and smelled like home. Maybe heaven really is real if you're back in her arms after death.

"Is everything okay? Did something go down on set while I was away? Oh, Jenna, I'm so—" You start to pull back, placing your hands on her shoulders.

"Y/n, push me away, I fucking dare you, I'll bring down hell upon this godforsaken world."

You hesitate, but her gaze wants nothing more than to be in your arms. Who were you to deny her?

With a gentle squeeze of her shoulders, you pull her back into your arms. You weren't much taller than Jenna, in fact, just an inch or two apart. You loved that about eachother, like the two of you were a perfect fit.

Minutes pass, the only sound of the soft rhythm of Jenna's breathing and your heartbeat became a melody to your ears.

"I'm gonna hard launch the both of us right fucking now."

Well, that definitely caught you off-guard.

"Something happened?"

"You weren't on set for like hours! And everyones got too damn annoying for my ears to even process so I was trying to look for you, but then I ended up insulting Emma and the others, then I called you my lovely neighbor because I almost ended up saying you're my lover so I had to cover for it!"

"...That's quite a handful. I'm sorry I wasn't there, baby."

Even so, you knew that Jenna wasn't ready for a public relationship, not now that everyone was currently holding her at a social and cyber gunpoint with her life.

And even back then, you were the first one in the relationship who told her that the both of you would be better off if they both kept it private.

Even from their friends... And maybe more so families. Or maybe Jenna's. It's pretty hard to keep secrets from her family.

Obviously, look how that turned out.

Finally, Jenna murmurs something. "Sorry. It's been a rough day." Then she adds, almost as an afterthought, "Just without you."

You could almost kill yourself of the mere thought of even having to leaving Jenna the whole day.

"I—"

"Don't worry, I know you were busy with tech."

"Yeah. They got me wrapped up in their troubles, but 's all fine."

"Ever thought beating the complete shit out of them?"

"Jenna, you can't just say that!"

"But they've been literally hogging you from me! And I think that's completely unfair!"

"But you really shouldn't. You'd probably end up getting destroyed, especially with your height."

"Oh, but I definitely should. Besides, we're the same height, Y/n."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Okay, you know what, tempting as it sounds, I don't think violence is the answer."

She scoffs another time, a crease in her forehead. "Well, it's definitely an option worth considering."

After a moment of silence, you carry her to the living room, her legs dangling as you lift her from her feet and settle her onto the soft-cushioned couch.

You start to pull away once you set her down, stretching your body after a tense day, yet a certain someone was making grabby hands for you while shooting a look with her eyes begging you to stay.

"Y/n, don't you want to stay here with me?" She pulls you closer, locking her legs around yours.

Oh, Jenna knows damn well you couldn't resist her.

"Jenna, just relax," you gently tug her legs apart with your own, letting them fall as she permits, "I'll just get you some water."

She tugs at the hem of your shirt, "Then I'll come with!" Her smile almost comes back alive and she's already clinging onto your arm.

"Jenna. The love of my life."

"Y/n?"

"You're tired, stressed, snappy, grum—"

"Okay, I am not grumpy or snappy!" Jenna bites back almost immediately. "Why does everybody keep saying that?"

You shoot her a look. A yup-thats-why-look, and it's enough to get a pout to form on her lips.

"Grumpy, and you're still damp from the rain. I wouldn't be surprised if you wake up with a cold in the morning." You gently pat her head before sitting her back down. "I'll be quick, alright? You know I'm not going far just for a glass of water."

"Fine," Jenna huffs, "But you better hurry back! Ten seconds, tops!"

With a smile playing on your lips, you roll your eyes before making your way to the kitchen. And of course, Jenna's gaze from the couch was following you. You know patience was never Jenna's strong suit when it comes with you.

It wasn't even a few seconds before you heard,

"Y/nnnn!" Jenna's voice calls out from the living room, almost sounding like a groan and a whine.

It's almost amusing how someone as seemingly nonchalant yet sweet as Jenna could also be this puddle of affection and clinginess when it came to you.

You chuckle to yourself before quickly making your way back to her, holding out the glass of water for her.

"That was well over ten seconds." Jenna remarks, downing the water in one go before setting the glass on the coffee table. Then, she pulls you back towards her, and before you know it, you're both collapsing onto the couch.

"Well, I thought I did great." You say before Jenna tackles you into a very tight hug.

Leaning back against the cushions, you let out a sigh, feeling the everything slowly melting away when she's in your arms. Jenna inches closer, resting her head on your chest as you wrap an arm around her, holding her close.

"Hug me tighter, y/n." She murmurs softly, almost demanding if she didn't have a soft melody to her voice, her body warm against yours and her breathing seemed to be in sync with your own.

"You'll die if I do." You sigh contentedly.

Jenna lets out a huff, her breath warm against your skin and her scent was all too comforting. That earthy rain smell and her aromatic fragrance. "You know that I don't mind," she replies, "Of course you'd think I'd care if I died in your arms."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, Jenna." You shake your head once against, ruffling her hair as you give her an extra squeeze before loosening your hold slightly to let her breathe.

"You want dinner?" You whisper to her after, not even above a decibel just for her to relax. "I didn't get the chance to stop by at the bakery."

"Please," comes Jenna's response.

You know what a full-on smile with dimples from her sounds and feels like when she has that hopeful and happy tune to her otherwise grumpy voice today.

You slowly pull yourself back up, gently pushing Jenna off your chest. And also unknowingly pulling a koala trapped in a 5'1, 22 year old body named Jenna Ortega clinging onto your back.

"Jenna."

She buries her head into the crook of your neck, eyes half-lidded. "Mmm… Yeah?" It's honestly surprising how she can actually and literally attach herself to you.

"Jenna, you have to let go so I can cook." Even as you ask her to release herself, you adjust to her weight on your back, carefully making your way to the kitchen, your hands securely holding onto her legs.

"You can cook just fine, Y/n," she whines, "You have two arms."

"And you," you reply, gently patting her legs, "have two legs and two arms. I can't cook with you piggybacking, baby."

You can tell the nickname made her smile. "Yeah, but I don't have a built-in Y/n in my system that I can cuddle with all day. So please just let me be."

"No, Jenna—You're gonna get hurt."

You reach the kitchen and gently lower Jenna from her back, setting her down on the kitchen island.

Her arms still lingered around your neck for a moment before she reluctantly, and against her will so it seems, lets go. "You know how frantic I am when I cook."

"Then maybe, you're not a good cook."

"I'm trying to keep my girlfriends, which is you, may I add, life out of harms way."

"Maybe that's the reason why you're not a good cook."

"Jenna."

Grabby hands, once again, making a return and tugging you by your shirt collar. But this time, you resist.

"Whyyyyyyy?" she whines, her bottom lip jutting out in a Jenna Ortega fashionable pout. "Do you hate me, Y/N?"

You roll your eyes playfully before booping her on the tip of her nose. "I'm cooking you a meal to show that I love you, baby." You pull back yourself and put on an apron standing off side to the fridge, Jenna's gaze could almost burn holes into the fabric.

"Okay." She sighs, dropping her head down. "Okay, fine! Can I just hold your hand?" She looks up to see you standing in front of her, wearing the cutest apron with the well-known kiss the chef quote.

A faint blush spreads across her freckled face, and you couldn't help but smile at her.

You can't really cook with one hand that properly. But if Jenna wants you to cook for her even if you had your hands surgically removed from your body, then so fucking be it. A few missing limbs can't top a few smiles from your girlfriend.

"Alright, baby." You place take her hand and lead her to the stove where it seemed like you've got everything prepared. "Just get behind me when there's oil splashing, mkay?"

A few minutes pass by with Jenna's hand in yours while you cook. Her head leans against your shoulder as she stands close.

Between the two of you, Jenna was always the one who takes over the cooking part of the relationship, no matter how much you insist cooking for her. But you're grateful and very fortunate now that she's allowing you to take over. Plus, Jenna keeps you entertained with her witty remarks and random stuff about her day.

Oh, what a life you're living in.

"You didn't cook for yourself?" Jenna's voice interrupts your thoughts as you plate a serving of salmon topped with herbs, accompanied by sliced lemon and a few kiwis. With the skin left on, of course, just how she likes it. Only for your loving girlfriend.

You shake your head, taking her hand and her plate in the other, leading her to the dining table. "I'm good. I had a late lunch earlier," you reply, gently placing the plate on the table and sitting her down. "Besides, it's not often I get to cook for you. It wouldn't be as special if I cooked for myself too."

Jenna's eyes almost appear teary as she looks at you. "Please never show yourself again in public. I seriously cannot lose you." She replied almost immediately.

If you didn't miss it, you would've seen the adoration and love shining in Jenna's gaze. It's as if she wants to ditch the meal entirely and cover your face with kisses.

You swear you probably ate a seed in your chest by how you kept feeling warmth bloom in your heart at her. "How can I do that if I'm an actor?" You chuckle, "They'd probably question you first if I disappear."

Jenna takes her fork and points it at you, slicing a piece of salmon with her spoon. "Hey, I've seen the tweets about people practically drooling over you. It's like they're your lover and not mine!"

You crease your forehead, crossing your arms, "You get more thirst tweets more than I do!"

"And I believe you contribute to that percentage." She raises one eyebrow, smirking at your direction before chewing on another piece of salmon. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

A factual one at that.

You almost choke at your own words. "Oh, you know me so well."

A sigh escapes your lips, your smile still in place. "Besides, we're not exactly public, are we?" Leaning in, you draw Jenna into your own little world. "You're the only one who gets the real me. If I leave, I'll cross my heart on my own and I'll die on my own."

Jenna looks at you while taking a bite of her salmon, chewing slowly as if she's contemplating something, a tug in her lips. "Mn, guess so."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You'd think you'd get some work done, maybe memorize future scripts or send out some emails to directors asking if you could audition for a show at one in the morning.

Instead, you're lying in bed with Jenna.

Or maybe a koala in this case.

In bed. Blankets over the both of you. Pillow's a bit too comfy to even think about getting up. Plus, the koala in question may or may not have hidden your phone and charger.

Jenna wasn't always a light sleeper. Sometimes, you'd wake up in the middle of the night to find her sitting up with a blanket draped over her entire body, furiously typing away in her notes app. It's endearing, but also makes you wonder if she's ever dabbled in witchcraft.

Now, she's wide awake to even be one.

Her eyes closed and her breathing steady enough to lull you asleep. The atmosphere is cozy, and so is your girlfriend laying atop of you.

Her arms were wrapped around yours for the millionth time while her head rests on her favorite part of your chest, her head staring off to the side as if she's trying to hear your heartbeat.

You thought she'd be passed out after dinner, but she dragged you by the cuffs of your hoodie and lead you to the bedroom.

"Jenna," you whisper not above even the slightest decibel, "I have work to do." The gentle rise and fall of her chest steadies in sync with yours, her head tilting slightly in the other way, and the grip she has on your body suddenly got tighter. It's already as if you'll fly away from her.

She huffs as she raises her head to face yours. "Your work—whatever that is—can wait, but I can’t." The room is dim, too dim, yet you could see the slight dip in her bottom lip.

You know you should focus, but with her so close, it's hard to think about anything else other than, 'Nah, fuck it. I'll live.'

You bring your hands up to cup her cheeks, gently brushing her messy fringe away from her face. Even in this dim light, you could see her freckles scattered across her face like vines making something so abandoned a painting.

Jenna sighs when she looks at you. "Y/n, how long are you gonna keep me playing the waiting game?"

"The waiting game? What even is that—"

"Can you kiss me?"

Oh. Her eyes become almost second nature to her words.

"Because I remember being woken up to the most gorgeous person ever but they didn't give me kisses, and I think—mpmhmmh..."

It took all your effort not to pull her into a kiss.

Obviously, your efforts were in vain.

Truth be told, you miss the way her lips hung on yours, she was perfect in every way. How her arms would wrap around you, how she'd reach up to tug on your jawline, tracing every thing you had offered her, how you would push back only for her to pull you closer.

The kiss soon ended with you and Jenna locking eyes. No words exchanged but the heavy breath the both of you took apart from eachother.

"—I think I might die..." Her words are breathless, her arms perfectly secured around your neck as you sit up.

You smile at her. "Well, I kept you alive, didn't I?"

"No," she breathes, taking hold of your cheeks before sitting up herself. "No, I'm still six feet underground if you don't continue what you were doing."

"You know, I'm starting to like the waiting game."

"Make me play that shit again, it'll be the last time you'll ever make a decision."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

jennaortega

Liked by ememyers and 1,398,938 others jennaortega goodnight to my gorgeous gorgeous girl @.y/l/n x 6 hours ago

natalieortega1: My fav girls!

joysunday: what lovely neighbors we have here

ememyers: !?@#%%#?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

user: WE FUCKING KNEW IT

moosa_mostafa_: we never knew....

user: MY??????? MY???????? WHAT MY WHY MY?????????????????????

user: now how long....

georgieebleu: the coolest ever

user: WHATS IT FINNA PLAY??????

naomijogawa: two losers having a loser rs

user: having a heart attack holYHIST WHAT HT FUCK

user: literally stop.

hunterdoohan: Respect!!!!

user: shit so insane she got the whole cast to comment

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In short, Jenna won. Plus, she got all the kisses and cuddles she wanted until the alarm hit. (When it did, your name was surprisingly all over social media along with Jenna.)

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x gnreader #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega

883 notes · View notes

sodaabaa · 4 months

Text

late night mischief

anthony bridgerton x wife!reader reader gets dragged into a bit of late night mischief with the bridgerton siblings while anthony is away.

tw: slightly nsfw, spanking

Y/N walked down the stairs of Bridgerton House, holding tightly onto the nightrobe she’d donned on her way out of her bedroom. She was having trouble sleeping due to her husband’s absence. As she walked past her husband’s study and towards the kitchen, she heard hushed whispers.

“Hush Eloise, you’ll alert the entirety of the house with your cackling!”

“Benedict?” She muttered to herself. What could he and Eloise possibly be up to at this hour?

She pushed the door to the study open, slipping through the opening. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth, laughing silently at the sight before her. Eloise, hoisted up on a ladder rummaging through one of the many shelves in the dark room. Benedict, holding onto said ladder to prevent Eloise from stumbling.

“What on earth are you two ne'er do wells doing?” She exclaimed, turning to shut the door before anyone else could be alerted.

Eloise turned abruptly, if it weren’t for Benedict’s hold on the ladder, she would have come toppling down. She smiled sheepishly, as did Benedict.

“Y/N! My most favored sister-in-law! Should you like to join us?” Benedict said, his eyebrows raised in invitation.

Y/N hesitated. The Bridgertons always played pranks on each other, it was part of what made this family so unique. They constantly poked fun at one another unlike the typical stuffy and overly formal families of the ton, including Y/N’s own. Pranking her older siblings was something she could never even dream of doing. She had yet to join in on any of the pranks the Bridgertons carried out but she’d been witness to her husband who found himself at the center of many a prank quite often.

“Come now, you’ve yet to give Anthony some trouble, it’s quite the thrill to see the look of disbelief on his face,” Eloise said, imitating her eldest brother’s furrowed brow.

She huffed, unable to keep the smile off her face. “Fine. But just this once, I do not wish to make a habit of troubling my husband, your eldest brother, I should remind you. He deserves some respect, does he not?”

Eloise and Benedict rolled their eyes in unison, “He receives plenty of respect, why do you think he’s so pompous and arrogant half the time?” Benedict replied.

“Come, you can begin by hiding his preferred whisky behind these dusty old books,” He said, gesturing to the crystal decanter on the wooden desk.

She walked over to the shelf, removing some of the books, a light cloud of dust billowing up at the sudden disturbance. She waved a hand in front of her face, “Dusty indeed.” Benedict shrugged, “I told you.”

She reached for the crystal decanter but before she could take it, Eloise cut in.

“Wait! We should each take a drink, imagine the look of horror on Anthony’s face if he knew we’d consumed some of his prized whiskey” She stepped down from the ladder.

Benedict chuckled, amused by the idea.

“Well then, after you, Viscountess Bridgerton” Benedict poured a drink into a glass and handed it to her. Y/N didn’t have a habit of drinking anything stronger than wine but being in cahoots with the two most mischievous Bridgertons gave her a sudden rush. She eyed the amber liquid before she took a sip, instantly regretting it. She coughed, shocked by the bitterness of the drink.

“Is this even for human consumption?” She questioned, her face scrunched in disgust.

Benedict took the glass from her hand and only shook his head as he downed the rest of her drink. He coughed once, “Leave it to our brother to drink something as bitter as he is.”

Eloise poured herself a sip as well, throwing her head back as she quickly swallowed the drink. She winced, “Oh, that’s awful.”

The three of them giggled, the alcohol worked quickly, warming them up and lowering their inhibitions even further. If Anthony were here to see them, she could only imagine the fury. Perhaps he’d make good on his threats to take her over his knee. Her stomach fluttered at the thought. Her husband frequently threatened to spank her, ever the authoritative viscount. Anthony hated when she made belittling remarks about herself every so often or when she teased him at dinner parties to get him riled. But he hadn’t ever gone through with it. Perhaps this would be his last straw.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, the doorknob rattled and it felt as though someone had poured ice-cold water on the three troublemakers. They scrambled to find a place to hide, Y/N quickly shoved herself under the desk, lifting her knees to her chest hoping she’d disappear. Benedict sat on the other end of the desk, resigned at his fate of being discovered. Eloise sat on the chair, a book in hand hoping it’d simply look like she was doing some late-night reading.

The door opened, Y/N could only hear what was about to happen. Y/N said a silent prayer for sibling-in-laws.

“What the bloody hell are you two doing in here?” Anthony asked, not angry – yet.

“Oh, brother. How nice of you to join us. Drink?” Benedict offered, trying his best to remain nonchalant.

“That was not an answer, Benedict. What are you doing here?” He enunciated, she could hear her husband’s patience wearing thin.

“Whatever could you mean, brother? Benedict and I could not sleep so we both had the idea of coming down here to lounge about” Eloise stuttered.

Anthony huffed, “Never mind. My wife is not in our room, do the two of you buffoons happen to know where she might be?”

Shit.

Benedict and Eloise stilled, the latter’s eyes dropping down to where Y/N hid and then back up to Anthony.

“Eloise?” Anthony said pointedly, “Is my wife under that desk?” He huffed.

Eloise let out a nervous laugh. Y/N could feel the ground shake with each step her husband took. He towered over her, his head tilted to the side, hands on either hip.

She looked up as innocently as she could, donning a sheepish smile in hopes it might charm her husband enough to overlook their mischief.

“Hello, dear,” She said meekly.

Anthony rolled his eyes, reaching down to grab her arm and pull her out from underneath the desk. With his hand still around her arm, he looked at his siblings.

“Bed. Now.”

With that, the two scurried away, leaving Y/N alone with her husband.

Anthony let her go, reaching behind her to fill his cup with a drink. He swirled the glass, staring her down as he took a sip and then, to her utter shock, downed the entire glass at once with no indication of its bitterness. She swallowed, suddenly intimidated by the man in front of her and his tolerance of strong liquor. He turned, taking a seat in his chair, knees spread. He rested his head in one of his hands, looking at his wife in thought.

She stood before him and although he was looking up at her, Y/N felt rather small. Warmth rose to her cheeks, Anthony’s gaze was intense and there was nothing she could do to escape it. He exhaled.

“Come here,” he motioned with a hand. She walked towards him, hesitant. He grabbed her, pulling her to stand in between his legs. His hands trailed up until they rested at her waist. Her breathing quickened in pace.

“You’re becoming quite troublesome, Y/N, what am I to do with you?” He murmured, his hands tightening their grip on her waist.

It must have been the alcohol for she had never been one to be so forward, especially with the man before her. Despite being married for nearly a year, she still found herself timid when he gazed at her with eyes filled with desire, and hunger.

“I recall several threats of a spanking, my lord” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Anthony’s brows raised a smile formed on his face in amusement but his eyes darkened at the challenge. In one swift motion, he pulled her down over his knees. Her torso rested on one knee while his other knee lifted over her lower body to keep her legs in place. She stumbled forward but he quickly grabbed one of her arms, pulling it behind her to keep her steady. Her other arm rested on her side, against her husband’s chest. His other hand snaked up under her robe, Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

“Count each spank,” he commanded. His voice rumbled through Y/N’s core.

She only nodded, failing to muster the courage to speak. Her breath quickened in anticipation, suspense prickling at her skin. When she least expected it, his hand came down harshly with a loud slap. At first, she couldn’t feel the impact but mere seconds later, warmth spread across her bottom. She gasped.

“Count," he repeated.

She inhaled, “One.”

His hand came down again.

“Two.”

Again.

“Three.”

Y/N’s face grew warmer, tears beginning to well in her eyes at the stinging sensation. She felt electrified. Her breaths came in and out rapidly as he continued his punishment.

She yelped, and the warm sting finally made way to a more painful sensation. Anthony stopped, assuming she’d had enough. She struggled against him, trying to wriggle her arm out of his grasp. His rough hands gently rubbed her bottom, hot from the impact. Cooing and shushing her to calm her before he released her.

“Are you alright?” He asked her softly, releasing his grip and pulling her into a straddling position. She nodded against his neck, her cheeks still warm. He pulled her back and held her face for a moment, scanning her for signs of regret or fear. She gave him a sleepy smile. When he was satisfied that she was only tired from their activities, his fingers buried themselves in her hair, gently caressing her, causing her to grow even sleepier. She hummed, enjoying the tender moment between them after days of missing her husband.

“I must say if this is how you’d like to end nights of mischief – I might allow for more opportunities,” her husband chuckled.

She huffed a laugh, already falling asleep against his chest to the rise and fall of his breathing. She felt him press a kiss atop her head, murmuring something she couldn’t quite catch as she drifted off.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton netflix

720 notes · View notes

chosok-amo · 2 months

Text

OH, I'M DESTROYED : GOJO SATORU

he's your best friend— gojo satoru, he's getting married soon with kids on the way even though your heart is craving for each other, you sarcastically, jokingly tell him, “pleased? oh, I'm destroyed,” after hearing the news, he laughed, almost crying as he looks at you.

w/c. 3,4k

warning : non-sorcerer! gojo satoru. little bit angst. (idk)

p.s. when i said the reader didn't believe in god it's just for writing purposes, i, myself too believe in god. this fiction is inspired by one day series episodes 8? I forget.

“y/n, can we talk?”

there he is, satoru gojo— your bestfriend, your other half, your oasis in the desert, your everything. standing with two of his warm, delicate hands stuffed into his pocket. a warm smile makes themselves home on his handsome face. his blue eyes— satoru gojo's blue eyes, shimmered like the clearest ocean on a sunlit day, mesmerizing depths promising thousand, endless even, unspoken emotions.

each glance felt like being wrapped in the gentle embrace of a summer breeze, full of warmth and tender affection. his eyes held a universe of mystery and allure, making it impossible to look away, as if they whispered secrets of love and devotion only meant for you— hah, you wish’ you thought.

“sure,” you smile.

your hands gripping the bouquet tightly, so tight the spine cuts through your finger without you realizing. you two walk side by side into the maze behind the chapel where suguru geto and shoko ieiri weddings are held, yours and gojo's other friends. you refuse to look at him, sparing the man a glance that feels strange after all those two years living your life with no contact from him, neither do you try to reach him, at least not after the fight you have that night.

“how are you doing, y/n?”

the simple question lingers through the air for quite a time when the two enter the maze. your silken hair is pretty, falling gently, enchanting, on your back, touching the soft material of your bridesmaid dress, a blue one, the same color as his eyes— oh, his eyes.

you look to your left to fulfill the starving of your heart, take a glimpse by a glimpse of his frame. two years was too long without seeing those pretty eyes, those warm smiles, those pretty long white lashes, those . . . no, just him.

“it was fine,” lied, of course.

you couldn't find the courage to pour your heart out, you wouldn't dare. you wouldn't dare to tell your best friend how much the longing, how thousand days and nights, and each time you closed your eyes there he was before you, standing in the void inside your dream, how he all of the other people the one who you falling into the abyss to.

“turn right?”

you only nodded, his palm barely touched your lower back and your breath was already prepared to leave your body only for it to come back the second gojo pulled his hand away. the two of you sat on the concrete bench, nailed in the middle of the maze. under the moonlight, the soft glow casting a magical aura around you. the silvery light made gojo's eyes come alive, no longer hidden behind the black glasses he once wore so often.

his striking blue eyes shone with an ethereal brilliance, reflecting the moon's gentle radiance. his white locks shimmered like strands of stardust, adding to his otherworldly beauty. in that moment, with the moonlight dancing on his features, he looked more breathtaking than ever, a living embodiment of celestial grace and charm. the night seemed to hold its breath, as if time itself paused to admire the sheer beauty of the scene, leaving you both enveloped in a cocoon of serene enchantment.

he is as beautiful as ever, as breathtaking as you can remember— that's how you always saw him.

oh, but how gojo wish you could see the way he sees you. sitting before him, his oh-so-called-bestfriend, his unwavering rock, his compass, and how sometimes— no, every time, it's just 'his'.

under the moonlight, with its silvery beams casting a soft glow around you, in the heart of the maze where the world feels like a distant dream, it’s just the two of you. the stillness of the night amplifies the beauty of the moment, every shadow and glint of light painting a picture of serene intimacy. here, in this secluded sanctuary, surrounded by the whispering leaves and the cool night air, the universe narrows to the space between you.

gojo looks at you, his eyes filled with a tender intensity, wishing you could see yourself as he does—captivating, radiant, and indispensable. in this moment, under the tranquil moonlit sky, you are his everything, the silent heartbeat of his existence, the unspoken song of his soul.

“you know,” you say, breaking the silence, “i never thought we'd end up here again. thought you’d be too busy saving the world or something,” you throwing the man side glance, a little smirk playing on your lips.

gojo chuckles, the sound light and familiar. he brings the glass of almost-finished wine to his lips, takes a sip before answering, “and i thought you’d be too busy being mad at me forever,” he jokingly smiled at you.

you roll your eyes, the smirk turns into a smile, tugging at your lips. “well, you did deserve it. you were being insufferable,” you laugh a little. and without you notice, it caught gojo by surprise, a little. two years long he survived with hearing your little giggle— giggle for me, again’ he thought. eyes fixed to you as he takes another sip, smiling.

he smirks, leaning back on his hands. “insufferable? that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” your head slightly shook, “nope, just accurate,” you retort, popping the 'p' as you nudging his shoulder playfully. “you have a way of getting under people's skin, you know.”

“oh, come on,” he protests, a teasing glint in his eyes. “you know you missed me. admit it.’

“missed you?” you asked, giving the man a glimpse of 'knowing look' before smiling, “more like missed having someone to argue with,” you reply, though there’s a softness to your words. you glance at him again, the moonlight making his blue eyes shimmer like twin stars. “it's been quiet without you around.”

he laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet night. “same old you. always ready with a comeback.”

“and same old you, always thinking you’re the center of the universe,” you quip, though your tone is softer now, the old familiarity seeping back. “well, i am pretty important,” he says with a wink, but then his expression turns more serious. “i’m sorry, you know,” his eyes moving slowly, looking for your expression, “for what happened. i never wanted to hurt you.”

for the second time, you nodded your head, eyes focusing on your laps. you finish the rest of the wine on your glass before putting the glass down on the bench and look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “i know, satoru. i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have walked away like that.”

he reaches out, taking your hand in his. the hands he always wants to hold, straving even. the hands that always perfectly fits with his like a puzzle, the warm, your pulse hitting your soft skin a little harder every time he holds it— oh, how he loves the feeling. “we both made mistakes. but we’re here now. can we start over?” you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch. “yeah, i’d like that.”

he grins, the mischievous spark back in his eyes. “good. because i’ve got two years of teasing to make up for.” you laugh, shaking your head as your brain begging you to let go of his hands, so you did.

shaking your head slightly, you scoff, “bring it on, gojo. i’m ready.”

he shifts closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “you know, i really did miss you. it wasn’t the same without my best friend around.”

best-friend, fucking hate that word’ you thought.

you look at him, the honesty in his words melting away the last remnants of your anger and blossoming the garden of regret and sadness you used to grow, still. “i missed you too,” you smile so little, just like how your feelings made you feel right now. “more than i wanted to admit,” you added, jokingly.

gojo chuckles softly. “well, lucky for you, i’m back now. and i’m not going anywhere.”

please don't— you want to beg him, wishing he wouldn't make any promises, you hope he would go anywhere. at least until these feelings start to leave your body, faded, disappearing like whispers on the wind.

but you smile because feeling a sense of peace settles over you. “good,” you lie to yourself. “because i don't think i could handle losing you again,” it was a pleasure to be burn for gojo satoru, it was always a pleasure.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with tender intensity and something unfamiliar— you think, only to not realize he looks at you just like how the way you look at him. his love for you breaking all his bones and soul, but all he can do is just laugh; you were his best friend, after all. beautiful, crushingly so even, you look like the rest of my life— no, that's not how a best friend thinks of his best friend. gojo satoru wouldn't dare.

“you won’t. not if i can help it.”

the two of you just look at each other after that, with soft smiles on your faces, letting the weight of the past dissolve in the quiet night. under the moonlight, in the heart of the maze, it feels as if the world has been righted, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels as it should be.

or maybe it shouldn't.

gojo shifted slightly and reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “hey, i have something for you,” he said, his voice tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. curious, you watched as he pulled out an envelope. the paper was thick and elegant— the kind used for important occasions, a soft lavender color that stood out against the dark fabric of his suit. he handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours, sending a familiar warmth through you.

you took the envelope, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. opening it carefully, you find a beautifully crafted wedding invitation inside. the names on it made your breath catch in your throat: satoru gojo and his fiancée.

your heart sank, but you managed to keep your expression neutral. “satoru..” your voice came out as a whisper, blending with the soft hustle of the leaves. “this is lovely,” you said, forcing a smile as you looked up at him.

satoru's eyes searched yours as if trying to read your thoughts. the grief— it's all over your eyes, the grief that is more honest to him than you ever could. but gojo does not know the reason, why are you grieving? it is because of your sorrow and he can't give you the shoulder? or is it because you, once again, are letting yourself burn for loving him? the saddest is, he doesn't know that, not that he has to.

is it still a pleasure to burn for him now?

“i wanted you to have it first,” he said quietly. “you've always been important to me, more than anyone else.” the weight of his words hung in the air, making it harder to maintain your composure. “thank you,” you replied, your voice barely steady. “i wouldn't miss it for the world.”

you smile at each other as if trying to comfort each other. “are you pleased?” he asked softly— too afraid if his voice came out louder, he would break you. please, don't say yes’ he begged his heart. just say the word, y/n’ he continued. he begged, once, twice, three time, for the past twelve years of his life knowing you, under the moonlight, to the moon that you say the words, begging him to stop the wedding. just say the word and he'll come running to you.

you groan a little, “pleased? oh, i'm destroyed.”

no, he was destroyed.

so he leaned closer, faster enough to fill his eyes with a mixture of affection and again, something you couldn't quite identify. “you know, you’ve always been my closest friend. my confidant. my anchor.” you nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “and you’ve been mine,” you said softly, the unspoken words lingering between you.

the silence between you grew heavier as you stared at the lavender envelope in your hands. with a deep breath, you carefully opened the lavender envelope, your fingers trembling. the wedding invitation was exquisitely crafted, each detail speaking of the elegance and care that had gone into its creation. the elegant script revealing the date. seven weeks from now. your heart sank further, the realization hitting you like a wave.

you looked up at gojo, the question evident in your eyes. “seven weeks?” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady. “that's. . . soon.” he nodded, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “yeah, it's a ‘shotgun’ wedding,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “things have been moving quickly when you are not around,” your heart ached at his words, the reality of his imminent marriage sinking in. “why so soon?" you asked, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “you are going to be a father? is that allowed?”

he chuckled at your attempt to joke, trying to hide the sadness that was so clearly there behind his eyes. the smile on his lips didn’t quite reach them, but he tried his best to keep up a brave face for you.

he scoffs, “apparently, they did,” he nodded.

he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to act as though it didn’t bother him in the slightest. he didn’t want you to know just how much turmoil he was facing with this entire situation. “yeah, not like we had much of a choice in the whole matter . . .” the fact that he was getting married had been eating at him for weeks. all of that time he had spent with you, all the memories. in just seven short, short weeks it would come to an end. he wanted to tell you. tell you just how much you meant to him, but . . .

but what? would it do any good?

your hand is gripping tightly around the bouquet, so tight, suffocating, until— for the second time that night the spine digs itself through your skin, straight to your heart— the pain, it's unbearable, you feel like dying.

there was a long pause, the maze around you silent except for the faint rustling of leaves. you wanted to tell him everything, to confess how much he meant to you, but fear held you back. instead, you tried to focus on the moment, on the bittersweet reality of his impending marriage. “oh, my god—” you choke on your own. one hand covering your mouth before you face him.

satoru reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and comforting. “promise me we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” he said, his voice almost pleading. you squeezed his hand, fighting back tears. “always,” you promised, even as your heart shattered a little more. your hands, the one he wants to carry his heart by.

your eyes are shaking, matching his heart, it's hurting. “i'm so happy for you,” your smile didn't reach your eyes. someone once said that people's hearts appear in their eyes, gojo can see yours now; it's broken, shattered before him.

please don't be happy for me, be miserable, so i don't have the heart to leave you, so i can be with you,’ he wants to scream at you.

“oh, god, i'm so happy for you. . .”

look at you, a girl who doesn't believe in god now crying, begging, pleading while calling his name because the pain was unbearable. how is cruel love can be?

the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, the lavender invitation between you acting as both a bridge and a barrier. you took a deep breath, feeling the tears welling up, and without thinking, you pulled gojo into a hug. he stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, wrapping his arms around you in a familiar embrace.

your tears flowed freely, once, twice, thrice, the moonlight catching them and making your eyes sparkle like crystals. “i’m happy for you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of joy and sorrow. satoru held you tighter, his breath warm against your ear. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “it means everything to me to have your support.”

the maze around you seemed to close in, the hedges whispering secrets and memories of times past. you clung to him, your heartbreaking and mending all at once, the scent of the night flowers mingling with the salt of your tears. “i wish you every happiness,” you continued, your words barely more than a breath. “you deserve it, ‘toru. you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. his own were glistening, the usual sparkle tempered by the weight of the moment. “and you deserve happiness too,” he said softly, his thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “promise me you’ll find it.”

your foreheads met, and the gentle press of his skin against yours felt like the most natural thing in the world. your breaths mingled, soft and warm, creating a delicate rhythm that only the two of you shared, a silent conversation of souls.

his eyes, filled with a depth of emotion you had always known but never fully understood, locked with yours. the moonlight bathed you both in a soft, ethereal glow, casting a spell that held the night in a timeless embrace. every unspoken word, every hidden feeling, shimmered in the air between you, a tapestry of love and longing woven through years of friendship.

gojo's hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he were afraid you might disappear. slowly, almost reverently, he began to close the gap between you. his movements were unhurried, each inch a testament to the gravity of the moment, the culmination of everything that had been left unsaid.

your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, erratic beat that seemed to echo through the silence. the anticipation was electric, every second stretched into an eternity. as his lips drew nearer, you felt the world around you blur into insignificance, the maze and the moonlight fading into the background. then, with a tenderness that took your breath away, his lips brushed against yours. the touch was soft, almost tentative, like the whisper of a dream.

oh, how empty he is to be full by you.

the contact sent a shiver through you, a spark that ignited every fiber of your being. you responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to his face, fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

the kiss was everything—a confession, a promise, a revelation. it spoke of years of hidden desires, of nights spent wondering, of the unbreakable bond that had always connected you. the taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, was like coming home after a long, arduous journey.

when you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the cool night air, you opened your eyes to find him gazing at you with an expression that mirrored your own—wonder, longing, and a profound sense of rightness. ‘longing’, such a tender name for such a miserable state of being.

you nodded, the ache in your chest making it hard to speak. “i’ll try,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but right now, i just need to be here for you.” gojo’s gaze held yours, the moonlight illuminating the silent understanding passing between you. “you’ve always been there for me,” he said, his voice a soft caress. “and i hope you always will be.”

the world around you seemed to fade, the only sounds the rustling of the leaves and the steady beating of your hearts. you felt a bittersweet calm wash over you, knowing that despite everything, your bond with satoru was unbreakable, saddest.

“i will be,” you promised, your voice firm despite the tears. “no matter what.”

he smiled then, a small, tender smile that spoke of shared sorrow, of the disaster from loving you, but oh how he promised, i will always be this tender for you. “good,” he whispered, pulling you back into his arms. “because i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

his arm tightly around you as your cheeks rest against his chest— he gathers you up, folds you to his heart, and looks at each other a little too long to be just friends.

893 notes · View notes

monimccoythings · 1 month

Text

Like Father Like Daughter

I have so many WIPs from different fandoms and this Wolverine fic ideas just keep coming and coming... I appreciate so much the support I've been shown, I don't look at the notes because it shows in activity that is 99+ and I get anxious lol. Logan has a nasty temper but is really fun to write.

Living with an ill-tempered man like Logan wasn't always easy, but living with him and his variant's teenaged clone turned adopted daughter who had the exact same temper as him, was proving to be quite the challenge.

As anybody would expect, those two were constantly butting heads at everything, be it food, curfews, or, just as they were doing at this very moment, Laura's choices in fashion.

The girl had chosen some shorts and black leggings, with black sneakers, and a crop top that was way too short for an old fashioned man like Logan to approve, to hang out with some friends she had made at her new high school. Barely sparing a glance at her outfit, Logan had snapped at her to go back to her room and change into something more appropiate, which Laura took it as well as any teenage girl that had spent part of her earliest teen years dressing and doing what she pleased in the void would. And then the screaming match had begun.

"NO CHILD OF MINE IS GOING OUT DRESSED UP LIKE THAT."

"IT'S JUST A SHIRT, IT'S NOT A BIG DEAL."

You let out a quiet sigh. You knew daughters were supposed to rebel against their parents, but having two superpowered beings at each other's throats at all times wasn't the great idea the universe thought it was. You knew they loved each other deeply and would kill for each other, but sometimes they were way too much alike.

"Sweetie, listen to Daddy on this one, he just wants what's best for you."

How the fuck had Wade gotten in and embraced your husband's muscular arm without anyone noticing. With a low growl, Logan pushed him away. Laura did not seem too pleased with him either.

"FUCK OFF, YOU AREN'T MY MOM!"

Wade covered his mouth and let out a shocked gasp that honestly was worthy of an Oscar nomination. You quietly thanked him for his presence, maybe that would help relieve the tension in the room. Laura turned at you, imploringly.

"Tell him he's just overreacting. Please."

You sneakily looked at your husband, who seemed to be red with rage, his lips pulled back in a feral snarl that clearly was a display of dominance, knuckles pressed against the wooden table so tightly that you started to fear for the well being of the furniture. His muscles were so tense he looked like he was going to burst out of his shirt, by the way the veins in his neck were swelling.

You didn't want to disrespect his authority over his daughter, but you also didn't want to make Laura direct her hate at you; you loved that girl and her attitude as if she was your own child. It seemed they needed some consesus, and you guessed you'd have to be once again the bigger person here.

"Laura, your father is just worried about you. If you want to wear that top, then you'd have to put a jacket on. And we want you back home by eleven."

"But my friends-" She started to protest, but you quickly cut her off.

"Eleven and that's more than your father was willing to give you."

She bit her lip, considering her options. With a huff, she stomped back towards her room to get that jacket. She slammed the front door on the way back out, not even bothering to say goodbye. Teenagers.

The living room got quiet. Really quiet. You could only hear Wade munching on some popcorn he had gotten from God knows where. Logan was fuming, not at you of course, but at his unruly adoptive daughter's behavior. He stormed towards your shared bedroom and slammed the door close hard enough, it made the pictures on the wall tremble. You sighed.

Well that went well.

It wasn't until half an hour later that he cooled off and decided to come out. You were cleaning up some dishes while Wade sat on the couch watching some cartoons. It made you smile, it was like you had two children running around.

You felt your husband's stubble and nose nuzzle against the back of your neck, as he embraced you from behind, his massive hands covering the entire expanse of your fourth month pregnant belly. "Feeling better now?" You casually asked.

His teeth nipped at the skin on your neck leaving a burning feeling that only his tongue could soothe. "I don't know what to do with her, she seems to fight against everything I do or say." His deep rumbling voice sent shivers running down your spine.

"Deep down she knows you love her. And she loves you too, even if she is too 'cool' to admit it." He let out a bitter chuckle, massaging your belly while leaning his chin on your shoulder, his sideburns made you tickle.

"I just hope this little one doesn't give us that much trouble."

"Hey, however they come out, we will love them the same, because they are a part of our family." He kissed your cheek and you leaned back into his embrace.

"Yes, our family." You let out a laugh at the sudden extra weight on your backs. Looks like Wade had gotten tired of the tv and had decided to join you into your little embrace.

"Wade..." Logan started warningly, carefully prying his hands away from your belly.

*SNIKT*

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett #deadpool and wolverine #x men

427 notes · View notes

killakalx · 6 months

Text

↳ ageless/blank blogs dni

18+ content, scent kink (?), lots of tension, pussy eating devouring, vaginal sex

thinking about jason todd losing his fucking mind when you buy that pheromone oil and he just has to act like he doesn’t wanna fuck you all the way up. you’d drag him to the mall after applying it, hiding the little bottle before you left. he gets an immediate whiff of it after you settle behind him on his bike, already clinging to his jacket and he’s tempted to reposition and fuck you right there.

and of course it’s a bit busy today, so he’s got no choice but to stay attached at the hip. he’d lean down quite a ways to speak to you whenever it’s crowded, like he always does. but there’s no way you could miss the way he lingers by you, back hunched over as his hands move from his pockets to your waist to get you unreasonably closer.

jason todd who hovers over you the whole time, joining you in the dressing rooms and ignoring your half-assed order to wait. there isn’t much to stop him from following, given he’s 6’1” with over 200 pounds of muscle and all that. slipping off your clothes makes it all the worse, but he still sits back and watches. you’ve got him distracted, eyeing at your ass while you get jeans on and nearly missing when you toss them for him to keep a hold of. if you hadn’t known any better you’d say his eyes are practically growing green, like he’s straight out of the pits and starving. by now he’s got a good idea of what you’ve done- not that it’d deter him or have him upset. he’s just been caught terribly off guard by it, which was the point.

you try to head out once you’re done and a startling grip on your shoulder twists you around. a quick peck on your lips, then your cheek, followed by a roughly contrasting bite into your neck has you gasping between him and the flimsy door. you’ve damned him to no little self control during this little escapade and have the nerve to be scolding him now, leaving him grumbling in frustration and prying himself away- not before leaving a dangerously bright hickey just above your collarbone, of course. lots more where that came from, he’d tell you, since you wanna act all high and mighty like you’ve never let him fuck you in similar spaces before.

jason todd who’d damn near break the handles of his motorcycle, taking risky short cuts and speeds you’ve never seen before, at least not while you were on board. in his defense, you’ve decided to sit in front of him now, plump ass all up against his crotch and v-neck traveling low between the valley of your chest. fucking vixen, he’d mutter, adding more bruises along your neck as you fumble with keys.

he’s impatient and agitated that you’d do this to him. jason’s never felt so hungry, so insane over something in a long ass time, much less you. poor guy doesn’t even realize he’s trapped you between himself and the door again, only making it harder to get the door open. even so he’s rushing you, gravelly voice against your ear telling you to get the damn door open- ‘less you wanna put on a show for anyone other than me.

and now jason todd’s got you right where he wants you, not wasting another moment without shoving you back up against the door. he’s finally got you and he can’t even decide how he wants you, but he settles on the scent that’s driving him insane and it becomes clear. jason’s tearing clothes off and groping at every inch of you before he kneels and secures your legs over his bulky shoulders. he wants- needs to eat you. absolutely fucking devour you.

gonna eat this pussy til you can’t fuckin’ think, he’s already moaning, sucking at your thigh and pulling your panties to the side. and to think you even had the nerve to try stopping him- a deep laugh vibrates against your core and you head thumps against the wood behind you. thick fingers prod at your hole and curl up inside as he’s lapping and sucking at your clit, groaning against your cunt for what feels like hours.

you’d think he’s done when he finally pulls away and you wobble on weak legs, only for jason to drag and bend you over the arm of the couch. nah- we’re far from done here, he says while stretching you out, burying your face into the cushion and arching your back until your feet hang over. I’d be wrong to leave this cunt all empty and aching, wouldn’t I? even after at least… three orgasms? the girth and overstimulation has you crying, clutching the fabric and mewling when the fat head of his cock pistons into that sweet spot over and over. greedy fuckin’ pussy just suckin’ me in- goddamn. maybe you should keep using this pheromone shit- since it’s got you just as worked up. ❧

#tried smth a lil different #was supposed to be short.#oops #jason todd smut #red hood smut #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #kali ;; jt #kali ;; wet dreamz #black!reader #dc x black!reader #jason todd x black!reader

891 notes · View notes

jarofstyles · 3 months

Text

Flower 2

Okay so I really love these babies so I think I'm gonna do 3-5 parts! I'm loving the tension hehe. Let me know your thoughts!

Flower Masterlist

Check out our Patreon for early access and 180+ exclusive writings

WC-4.6k

Warnings- mention of age gap romance, mention of bdsm, mention of bad sexual experiences, loads of sexual tension, low-key sugar daddy h, trust me

Sleep didn’t come too easily for her, but she felt absolutely wired when she woke up. Her coffee only made it worse as she wrapped herself up in the dark wash denim jacket she’d borrowed from Harry when he drove her home a few weeks back. His truck pulled into the driveway and she was grabbing her tote bag and phone, making sure to lock up before turning to face him.

There was a weird expression on his face- something she couldn’t place. It wasn’t quite angry or mad, but it was a little darker as his eyes ran over her face and then body. He remained quiet until she got down her porch steps. “S’that… my jacket?” He asked lowly. The tone was strange to her as he stepped closer, tugging on the collar of it.

“Yeah, it’s really cute and I figured I could wear it around today and give it back to you at the end. Is that… is that okay?” She worried her brows. “I can take it off now if you want to wear-“

“No.” He cut her off. “No, it’s totally fine. It just… it looks really good on you, is all.” He mumbled, squeezing her shoulder. “You look beautiful, as always.” His compliment was genuine, feeling his finger tap her nose, making her crinkle it. “Put the shiny stuff on it again? Your fairy sparkle?”

Y/N laughed out loud at his nickname for her highlight on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. “Mhm. I got a new pink one, think it suits me.” And maybe she’d been a lot more meticulous about her makeup now that she had a feeling this may be a more-than-friends situation. “I really like this look.” It was a tease, considering he wore the same thing off duty. Jeans and some sort of tee shirt with a quirky phrase or obscure musician on them. Today’s was relatively tame with a bee surrounded by some words about honey and health. Cute. “I actually like the tee today. A bit muscle-y.” His arms looked real fucking nice in this one. Of course he would have some considering he worked with his hands and was a pretty physical person but… damn. She allowed herself to admire it, respectfully.

It wasn’t something she’d caught before but a slight pink brushed his cheeks at her compliment. “Thanks, petal.” He smiled. “I… I got us some coffee, got your favorite. It’s only half an hour away but I figured….”

“You know I love coffee. You’re the best, as usual.” She sighed, leaning into him to have a hug. It wasn’t usual for her to do it first but he reacted quickly, pulling her close as he rubbed her back, content to keep her there forever. He was never the first to pull back from a hug, but Y/N would happily stay like this for hours if the option was there. He smelled good, was so warm and sturdy and he knew exactly how to play with hair. Unfortunately she did have to pull back, shooting him a shy smile as he took her by the shoulder to the car.

Of course he opened the door for her, made she she was in properly before jogging to his own side. He ever did the whole hand on the back of the seat while backing out move, which… wow. It never missed. The weirdest turn on, but something about it just elevated a man.

His car smelled ridiculously good, and judging by the little clips on his air vents, he had just changed them. He had a few lanyards for access to work yards and membership cards to certain stores, but no fun little fuzzy dice, or a air freshener with a kitty on it like she had. There and then, she took a mental note to get him one. Maybe a puppy one, though. His German shepherd was his best friend.

“Are you getting any books?” She asked him after a little time passed. The chatter had been casual so far, easy. The tension she felt since last night wasn’t bad in the car if she continued topic switching and slight gossip.

“Mm, I dunno. I haven’t done much reading lately. What are you gonna get?” He questioned, sneaking a peek at her as they stopped at a red light.

“Probably romance. I’ve been most interested in that. I’ve seen some good book recommendations online and the girls sent me some, Gia and I wanted to do a book club thing for one of the books by our favorite author. It’s a bad boy romance but it’s called Reaper.” She figured he’d have no idea what that was, but she watched his brow raise as he gave her a look.

��Well… you do have a naughty side, don’t you?” He snickered, watching her eyes widen. “Think m’clueless? Just because I don’t read a lot doesn’t mean my ears don’t work. Tony told me his wife was reading that and it’s full of sex. Basically erotica.” He licked his lip, looking her over.

“Oh- well, yes there’s sex but there’s plot to! Just because a book has sex doesn’t mean it isn’t good!”’she crossed her arms, huffing at him. It was a bit to rile him up a bit considering he was doing it to her and it worked. She watched his mouth open and close before rushing out an explanation.

“No! No, m’not saying that. It’s not bad at all. It’s empowering, but uh, I was just saying I didn’t expect you to read books like that.” He had to pull away as the light turned green but he looked a little stressed that he offended her.

“I’m joking, H. I know you didn’t mean it like that.” She snickered, watching his face turn to a bit to a scowl. “What, you thought I’m a nun or something? Just cause I’m not spilling all my stories at the table doesn’t mean I don’t have them.” She knew a lot of the group was very open about their sexual experience which was more than fine with her. Y/N was nosy and loved knowing other people's business, But in her life she didn’t share sex related things. It was private, for her and her partners. She didn’t want to betray their trust either, regardless of the terms they were on.

“I….” His face was more pink now, hands flexing around the wheel as he cleared his throat. “I just thought maybe you didn’t care as much about it. Which is fine, by the way! It’s cool. I just wasn’t sure you cared too much. You never talk about it when we have our confession nights so I… I was being a bit presumptuous. I’m sorry. It just shocked me a little.”

It was funny to make him squirm a bit but he didn’t need to feel bad. “It’s fine. Promise. No one really asks anyway, so I don’t offer it up first. I’m usually private about it because some of our friends are loud mouths but you can ask me stuff if you want. Maybe after we get our books you can ask me whatever questions come up.” She knew there would be plenty based on his face alone.

“Really?” He seemed surprised. “Yeah, sure. I mean, I’m not trying to be weird or anything but you know about the time I called someone by the wrong name and the girl who put her tongue in my ear so….” He shrugged one shoulder.

“Oh, god.” Her giggle was muffled by her hand. He had shared some of his horror stories and she’d found out he was a bit of a bondage fan and dabbled in kinky stuff but until now that info had been locked away in her brain under padlock and key. Suddenly someone had taken nippers to the lock and it was spilling out again, staining the floor. “Yeah… I suppose that is fair.” Angling her knees towards her, she stirred her coffee with the straw. “I think the worst thing that’s happened to me… hm. Probably the time I went home with a guy after a few dates in college and his place was really gross, but he was even more so. Like…” her nose scrunched. “Took his pants off and there was a smell coming from them. I couldn’t do it.”

“Oh, fuck.” He hissed, wincing at the thought. That was pretty much a nightmare situation. Harry always smelled good and never seemed to be anything but hygienic so she knew he gave a shit about it but still. No one wanted to think of that. “That’s… unfortunate for both of you. Was he embarrassed? How did you get out of it?”

“He wasn’t, is the thing. Said ‘girls should like a natural musk’ and I told him that it wasn’t a musk, it was a stench. He wasn’t happy with that so he didn’t refuse when I left. I had to take a long shower after that.” Shuddering in disgust, she hated recalling that. “At first I felt really guilty too, cause that’s such a hard thing… but he ended up being such a dick. It was surprising considering he had been sweet on the dates but apparently men change a lot in the bedroom.” That was an understatement.

“I can agree with that, but I’d hope it’s a positive change.” He shook his head at the thought. “Like, sweet in the streets and freak in the sheets or whatever the saying is.”

A laugh peeled from her throat, leaning her head against the headrest with her face turned towards him. “Yeah, close enough. But ideally they would be. I dunno, you don’t have to be crazy to be good in the bedroom but I’d hope for the same level of respect. Some men have no idea how to actually handle women so it’s partly why I stopped dating.” And why she had stayed up looking at his Instagram last night and thinking about how she’d look inserted in his life. Harry seemed like a man who could potentially handle her.

“I wish I could disagree but I can’t. I’ve heard many horror stories from girls, way more traumatizing than men. It’s why…” he stopped himself. “Sorry, was gonna overshare. But I can only imagine how it is and if it’s any consolation, I’m sorry for all the men.”

God, he was cute. But… wait.

“No no, you can definitely overshare.” She perked up. “If you want to, anyway. I don’t mind.” Blinking at him, he cut a look at her and let out a laugh as he lifted a hand to run it over his chin, the slight sound of skin scratching stubble audible in the cab of his truck.

“Well, I was gonna say it’s why I try t’be aware of that when I’m with someone that their comfort is first. If there’s anything they don’t like they can say it, that m’not gonna be mad. I don’t want someone to walk away from something with me and feel uncomfortable.” Seeing him a little shy was really fucking adorable. “I don’t really do hookups anymore. They’re not fulfilling, at least not to me. Lost their appeal a few years ago but, the few relationships I’ve been in the whole goal was to make them feel good. I think there’s a lot of selfishness that’s mainly revolved around men and sex, which I noticed a lot. The fact that a lot of women aren’t getting off at all is fucking ridiculous.” He scoffed, looking truly bothered by it.

Another point added to his growing list.

“Yeah, it is. It was rare I could because for me, and I think a good amount of women, there needs to be the foreplay aspect of it. Mentally, I need to be stimulated. Y’know, like teasing or not so clean talking.”

It was her turn to feel a little shy but she powered through. “And men can dive right in. It’s where we differ a lot of the time. I think part of it is biological too, I guess. I tried hooking up for a while but it never did anything for me either. I prefer someone with a connection so it’s easier to get to that point.” Now she was the one oversharing.

“I understand that. I like those things too. A bit of cat and mouse can be fun…” he pushed his hair back before returning his hands to the wheel, squeezing it. “It’s laziness and selfishness. I’d say for me personally, M’more of a giver. Not saying it to praise myself or anything but it’s just… it’s what I like.” There was a pause. “Sorry if that’s a bit much.”

No, it wasn’t enough. She wanted to know more. Her neglected cunt was more than interested in how he was in bed and if he’d like to be a giver for her, but she had to at least try to behave.

“It’s not. We’re just being honest, right?” She placed a hand on his knee, giving a daring squeeze and let it linger for a few moments before peeling it away. Again, testing the waters of initiating touch. Once she’d realized last night that she hadn’t shown her own interest much she had vowed to at least try today to see how he'd respond.

In this instance his smile grew and he couldn’t look right at her, but he nodded at what she’d said. “Yeah. I jus’ don’t want to seem like some creep. But uh, what other sort of books do you like? Romance, yeah, but what sort of tropes?” He did know some of those.

“Oh, I’m pretty adventurous.” A double meaning. “I like the grumpy and sunshine ones, the billionaire romances, mafia is a guilty pleasure. Meet cute is something else I enjoy for a light read. I dunno, I think I mainly go for what the summary calls to me for. I do read some darker stuff but it’s nice to have a little fantasy world to escape to. And the fantasy men know how to find a clit.” Throwing the joke in there was meant to diffuse some of tension but somehow it seemed to make it grow.

Not in a bad way, per say, but he looked at her curiously. “Don’t tell me that all of them couldn’t….”

“No, no. Some of them did, but majority no. They rub the side and think they’re doing something. But I’ve never faked it, I refuse to give a man an ego boost for something he didn’t do.”

“Good on ya, petal. S’bullshit that they get off and you don’t.” He genuinely seemed bothered by it. “Buncha pricks is what they are.”

“They are.” She snickered. “But I’ll let you read some of the blurbs for the books I pick out today, you can get a read on what sorta books I like.” It was yet again, another way to experiment.

“I’m very intrigued to see what you’re into.”

Y/N hopes that held a double meaning too.

—-

Harry was hovering a bit.

Normally that would annoy her. She’d huff and tell him to sit in the cafe, or go look at his own books- but she hoped that it was because he was paying attention to what she picked up.

Plus, he was holding the basket for her.

The store was earthy and rustic, exposed wooden beams running along the ceilings. There was a little cafe that served teas and coffees which she definitely planned on getting after her shopping, and from her nosy look over when Harry greeted the owner she had seen a blueberry scone. That would be coming home with her too.

The shelves were high and they had multiple different sections. It was far bigger than any indie bookstore she had been to in the past , and that lead her to quickly realize quickly she was going to make a monthly trek out here. Maybe Harry would be interested in joining her in them.

Maybe he’d be interested in doing a lot more with her.

“I’m almost done.” She promised, plopping a used copy of a vacation town romance into the basket. It had to be a little heavy but Harry didn’t complain. It didn’t even look like the weight bothered him, the basket hanging off his arm. They’d stuck mostly to the used section considering they were far cheaper, but she was ready to go for the new ones now.

So what if she took a little bit out of her savings for this? She deserved a little treat for once.

“There’s no rush, Flower.” He assured her, following closely behind her as she moved towards the new books. “I was wondering if….” There was a pause as she looked up at him. It seemed to make his brain buffer for a moment, his eyes looking over her face before he blinked out of the stare. “Uh, it you wanted to have lunch or something after?”

Why was he so cute, and why did he look so nervous? Maybe Y/N wasn’t giving the signals she needed to. That would be her own fault, but it was hard to flirt when she was as serious as she was about her books.

“On the condition that the iced mocha with a pump of caramel and the blueberry scone I get for the car ride doesn’t count as lunch, yes. I would very much enjoy that.” She chirped, watching the nerves melt off of his face. It was mind boggling that her of all people could cause him to be nervous in the slightest but you learned something new every day.

“I’ll agree, because that’s more suitable for a dessert.” He drawled. Harry did like to tease her about her sweet tooth which always made her roll her eyes. So what if a girl liked to have a brownie with each meal? Life is nothing but spinning on an orb in space. You may as well enjoy the creature comforts.

“If that’s your dessert I don’t think you’ve had a true one in a while.” The flirtation was light, testing the waters as she looked over the book covers. His eyes could be felt on the side of her face as he was quiet for a moment before letting out a little laugh.

“Suppose I haven’t. You’re right. Maybe I’ll need to try yours and see what you mean.”

And oh. Oh. She did everything in her power not to react besides a little smirk, though she could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks. Harry could most defintely try her dessert whenever the fuck he wanted.

“Should you be so lucky.” Was her slightly snarky reply, but he followed it up quite quickly.

“One could only hope, Petal.”

And yeah, maybe she felt her new heartbeat between her thighs as the newly heavier silence settled on them like oil in water, but it wasn’t necessarily bad. The anticipation was in her stomach as he got a bit closer, looking over her shoulder at the book she had picked up and was currently reading the back of.

“What’s this one?” He asked, so close that she could feel the heat of his body against her back.

“It’s called The Highest Bidder. It’s about… a girl who goes on an auction block at a BDSM club, he is one of the owners? Well he’s one of the richest. Anyways, I saw someone recommend it saying it has sugar daddy vibes and there’s some juicy stuff in it.” Y/N explained, taking the moment to lean back into him as she held the back cover for him to read.

If he was surprised he didn’t show it. Instead, his hand came up to rest on her shoulder, pinky finger nearly grazing the side of her neck as he looked over to read. Such a casual touch of affection, but he seemed to like it. “And you’re gonna get this one?” It was a bit weirdly arousing feeling the vibrations of his words through his chest and onto her back.

“I think so. I haven’t read an age gap for a while. Just hope the sex scenes aren’t shit. It’s hard to tell with books sometimes, even if they’re more kinky oddly enough. I’ve seen books that have the best summaries and seem super steamy have a two pump sex scene- or fade to black. Which, you know, is fine. Not all books need to have that, but what’s the point of making the book seem like it then?” She muttered. Clearly she had been victim to it a time or two. “Then the authors get mad about low goodreads reviews. It’s like, cmon! Don’t mislead the readers about the book then.”

It was something the woman did get passionate about when provoked, but Harry had opened that can of worms in the car when he had given his go ahead that he didn’t mind discussing things like this with her.

“Mm. I see.” He nodded and she swore she could hear the smile in his voice. “Show me the others you want to get.”

Y/N felt increasingly more comfortable as she went through the next five books, letting him read the back covers and giving him the low-down about what she had heard about them. Each time they moved their position would go back to where it was, with his hand on her shoulder and her back leaned into him, only he had gotten a little braver with running his smallest finger back and forth over the side of her neck.

It nearly made her choke when she first felt it. She definitely stuttered when he did it, but she didn’t comment on how the little action felt incredibly intimate and soft, yet charged with an unspoken sexual energy that would probably kill her if she thought about it too long. Harry was being casual about it, but he always had been. He’d been the first to initiate most touches with her that Gia said were abnormal. Of course he didn’t start off their friendship by being super grabby and touchy but it had morphed into that, and it definitely did take him by surprise when she had initiated last night and again today. Kind of like she was reinforcing that it was more than okay to touch.

“Are you sure you’re done?” He asked after placing her final book in the basket. Y/N felt like if she didn’t stop this weird, hot position of him asking questions about the books earnestly and his chaste-yet-sexy touches she may bend over the book table and get inappropriate really fucking fast.

“Mhm.” She assured him. “Please, I’m gonna have to dip into the rainy day fund to afford all the stuff from today but it’ll be so worth it.” The sun shone through the windows and highlighted his features which, god, had her testing her own willpower. Of course she was far too shy to be super direct with him verbally, but she didn’t hide the fact that she was admiring him.

Considering she had already been successful in her little experiments today, she saw the lock of hair that had flopped over his forehead and decided to push it back. Letting her fingers card through his hair, she pushed the strands out of his face and back into place. If she hadn’t been looking so intently she wouldn’t have seen the shiver he had from the action. His hair was so soft and obvious that Harry took care of it, and she had never really touched it all that much but the temptation had been too much. “Sorry, it was bothering me so it must have been bothering you.” She said simply, giving him a small smile. “I’m just gonna run to the restroom quickly and then we can check out. Okay?”

“Course.” He cleared his throat, nodding his head as if the question had taken a moment to load in his head. “I’ll be by the cafe then.”

Y/N really hated that bookstores made her have to go in there but it was a right of passage. Taking care of her business took only a few minutes, but when she came out she didn’t see him at first.

He wouldn’t just leave her, so it took her a second to realize he was leaving the counter, two bags of books hanging off his arms and two coffees in the little tray. A brown paper bag clutched crumbled in the hand he used to balance the drink tray, making her eyes widen.

“Hey! I was gonna pay for our coffees and stuff.” She pouted as he approached. “You’ll have to let me get lunch then.” Her eyes went down to the two tote bags with the store logo on them. “Ooo, that’s so nice that they gave you these to hold them in. Let me just grab my wallet and we can go to the till to-“

“Don’t worry about it.” He cut her off, shrugging a shoulder. There was a pregnant pause, her eyes blinking rapidly before her eyebrows crinkled.

“What do you mean? I have to pay.”

“They’re paid for.” The reply was simple and matter of fact. Again, words escaped her as she looked between him and the books.

“Did you-“

“I paid. It’s fine, Flower.”

“Uh, what?” Her eyebrows shot up as her stomach dropped. It did the weird thing that had her feeling a little lightheaded as he stood there, like he didn’t just spend probably close to two hundred on books. “No way I can accept that.”

“If I told you I got a discount for building this place will it help?”

“Harry.” She said quietly. “You…. Why?”

“Because I’m happy you agreed t’spend the day with me.” The reply was so to the point, not hiding anything at all that it almost felt unreal. Hell, it did feel unreal because who the fuck spent two hundred on books for a friend? Granted, she had a feeling-or a hope- there was a crush in there, but it felt like a huge gesture.

“You already do so much for me.” She swallowed the lump down her throat. “You help me at my place and you drive me home from get togethers and you buy me drinks when we go out and… I feel like it’s a lot. I surely don’t do as much for you.”

“I’d do even more if you let me.” He stared honestly, nothing but truth on his face. “So jus’ let me do this for you. I want to. It makes me happy.”

Y/N didn’t know how to argue with that. Instead, she nodded, and reached to take the bag and coffee tray from him since he had the much heavier books. “Thank you. I could cry, probably.” That wasn’t a joke. Her eyes felt like they were stinging.

“None of that, Petal.” He shook his head. “C’mon. I’ve got plenty of questions and you’ve got answers you promised me on the way here.” Without thinking twice, he grabbed her free hand with his own, tangling their fingers before leading her to the truck.

Y/N had no idea how so much had changed in 24 hours,

But she had a feeling it was about to change a whole lot more.

#flower #flower h #jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles carpenter #harry styles fluff #harry smut #harry styles fanfics #harry fanfic #friends to lovers

475 notes · View notes