#I have been off and on looking into it for two years now and my fondest childhood memories are times when my parents handed me a disposable
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Let me in your ocean, Swim
The five times Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, and the one that works
Pairings- Sukuna x F reader (both like 23/24)
Summary- You have known Sukuna your entire life, and he's infuriated you for most of it. Since you were kids on a playground he was picking on you, and you decided you hate him (love him!?) little do you know, he's been in love with you since the moment you met. There were five times he tried and epically failed to let you know. You all don't see each other for two years after college, when you run into him on Valentine's day at the bar- and you think, what better for getting jilted tonight then a hate fuck from Sukuna!? But... no, in fact he needs to finally tell you the truth. Sukuna 5+1 valentines story
CW- MDNI/NSFW- Idiots to lovers, enemies to lovers (kinda!?) Sukuna is TERRIBLE at feelings, reader is bratty, he is lowkey a bully when you're younger, go through the five times he tried to tell you (intermingles with the current night) sweet, angsty, smutty. Warnings oh boy a lot- Explicit sex, sexual tension, tummy bulges, breed kink, oral sex (m and f recieving) fingering, rough sex, creampie, possessive Sukuna, lots of dirty talk, alcohol underage, use of recreational drugs etc, it's me so ofc we have a lowkey breed kink lol- LONG ONE- 14.8k wc- TRUST ME PLZ lol
tracks for this Breathe // On My Own // Me & U // Wicked Games // The High
Comments/reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyyyy <3
You didn’t expect to be sitting alone at a bar for Valentine’s day, but here you are, dressed to the nines in a beautiful glittery black dress, hair done up, makeup perfect on your skin. You have glittery bangles along your wrist, and red bottom heels, you’re as dressed up as you ever got, but right before your date, your boyfriend decided to break things off with you.
Which leads you to this hole in the wall bar, across the street from the fancy restaurant you’d sat at for an hour waiting on him, only to get broken up via text. Sighing, you order another drink, tensing then when you hear it, the damn voice of the man who you simultaneously couldn’t stand and also had it bad for, for years and years, ever since elementary school.
“Tch, what’re you doing here brat?” You glare up at him, but when you see just how good Sukuna looks, after two years of not seeing him? You falter, lips parted just so as he smirks down at you.
However, his heart is pounding in his chest, despite certainly not showing you outwardly, you take his damn breath away. Sukuna has always found you to be the most beautiful, infuriating little creature in existence. And you’ve just gotten more beautiful, which in itself irritates the shit out of him, it was hard enough acting ‘normal’ around you all his life.
But now?
“What’re you doing here, Kuna?” He snorts, rolling ruby red eyes, leaning against the bar with an elbow propped on it, glaring at you.
“Don’t call me that, god.”
“It irritates you, so I will.” You smile up at him, sipping the rest of your drink, which he eyes disparagingly.
“What’s that pink shit?”
“Oh, like your hair?” You counter, raising a brow, his jaw sets. “Ya want one, Kuna?”
“No, I don’t want your little bitch drink.” You roll your eyes now, as he sits next to you, and your eyes sweep over his starch white dress shirt and black slacks, stretching over muscles that seemed to have only gotten more pronounced since college.
“Not even my cherry, hmm?” You tease, pulling the maraschino out of your cup, dangling it in front of his face.
“That’s long gone, I’m sure, looking all slutty …” He murmurs, right in your ear, you shove at him, scoffing.
“You’re slutty, Sukuna. Pretty sure you fucked a whole sorority last time we caught up?”
“Mmm, rumors, rumors.” He holds up two fingers now. “Gimme something that’s not a little bitch drink, please.”
“So manly, oh heavens!” You pretend to fan yourself and he can’t stop the laughter, but he soon covers it with a glare.
“Get her some more of this pink crap.” He says, and you are a little surprised then, looking at the handsome man who’s had your heart for so long you can’t remember a time before him.
“Are you buying me a drink?”
“I am buying you a drink. I… it’s been a long time.” He misses you, but the words are caught in his throat.
“It has been a long time. Thank you.” You smile as the bartender hands you another dirty Shirley, and hands Sukuna a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He sips at it, eyes darting over your frame, your sexy body that is so well shown in that dress of yours, all he can think of is unzipping it.
“Where’s the boyfriend?” You blink a bit.
“How’d you know I had one?”
Well, Sukuna’s been insta stalking you but he won’t admit it.
“Heard it from our friends, duh. Just because we don’t see each other doesn’t mean I don’t see them.”
“Yeah well, it’s not like… I didn’t want to see you. We left things…”
“Yeah.” He sighs now, running a hand through pastel locks, a hand with black tattoos and black nails, throwing off this corporate vibe he has, something dark about him, but then, there’s always been. “You single on Valentine’s day?”
“I am, officially. Ass of a boyfriend left me across the street via text. And… are you…”
“Yeah, I also got broken up with, but slapped in the face, and in person. Think they planned the shit?” You giggle, shaking your head and sipping your drink, leaning just a bit closer, one of your legs brushing his, strong muscles of his pressing on yours. He damn near moans just at feeling your body after so, so long.
“Maybe they did. I’ve wanted to see you, though… I just…”
“There’s something I wanted to… tell you. Actually. I thought about calling you, but…”
“Yeah? Calling me?”
“So surprising?”
“You hate me? So yeah.”
Sukuna sighs now, sipping his drink again, looking down into your beautiful eyes, your beautiful face, remembering just all those times he’d ruined it with you. Fuck, since the first moment he met you, he was a dick, and pushed you away, all because the shit he feels terrifies him. And over the years, he’s tried, but he thought you were too far gone, nothing but a regret, a memory.
Something to compare every girl he’s with, never you, are they? There’s no one like you.
But you’re here of all places, and though Sukuna thinks shit like ‘signs’ are the dumbest thing ever, he can’t let this pass, not this time. He takes a breath and his lips part, his fingers then brush your hair back, something far too gentle for Sukuna, something that makes your eyes dilate, your little gasp so sexy he can’t think.
“You trying to fuck me tonight?” You ask, and he chuckles, the gentle brush now a rough grip in your hair, leaning over you.
You taste the whiskey on his breath, you feel his lips so close, your breaths mingling, as your hand comes to his shirt, balling the fancy material in your little fist. “That what you want, brat? Me to fuck you finally?”
“Maybe I do.” He freezes then, blinking long lashes, leaning even closer, free hand gripping your waist in the crowded bar. “A hate fuck? Sounds like the perfect thing to forget tonight.”
“Hate fuck, huh?” What you don’t know is, Sukuna is in love with you.
“Never thought of it? I doubt that. I remember things.” You lean even closer, hand now pulling at the nape of your neck, his other hand pressing against your ribcage, thumb right under the swell of your breasts, shooting desire down your tummy, across your body.
“I remember more, trust me. I need… to tell you shit. Okay? Will your bratty ass listen?”
“Make me.”
“I swear to…” You giggle as he slams his lips on yours, exhaling at how good it feels, god was good the word!? How fucking perfect you feel, mushy things he’ll never admit, his heart thudding in his chest. You whimper, this sound from the back of your throat that has him picturing every sound he’s going to elicit from you tonight.
His lips are firm, but surprisingly gentle for Sukuna, different from the couple of kisses over the years, no it’s too much. His tongue slipping between the seam of your lips, and devouring your mouth. Your arms slip up around his neck, kissing him back, arching toward him more and more. Your years of desire come out, your body reacting to his every movement.
You want him.
He needs you.
He pulls back, taking a breath and smirking. “Fucked out expression how? From a kiss?”
“You’re such a dick, I swear to god.” You shove at him now, as the music from the bar vibrates, beating erratic like your heart.
“Listen… if you can actually listen to me tonight, I’ll make you cum so much you won’t even be able to think about your dumb little ex boyfriend. Yeah?” Your chest heaves up and down with your breaths, vivid images spilling through, his white grin flashes under the neon lights. “Can’t think now?”
“I… fucking… okay. I’ll listen to whatever bullshit you want, I guess.”
“Need me that bad?”
“I’m gonna go-”
“No, shit. Shit, no don’t… stop it.” He holds you to him now, sighing as he looks at your pretty scowl, one that just makes him want you more. “Just give me the night to explain some shit, yeah?”
“Fine. But let’s get out of here after this drink.”
“Desperate to be alone, huh?”
“Y’know, that bartender is kinda cute.” You wink at him then, leaning forward, earning Sukuna yanking at your hair. “Ow! Always did that shit.”
“That’s the first thing I wanted to talk about… the day we met.” You rest your chin on your hand now, hair falling just so as he remembers.
*****
The first time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, 4th/5th grade (Kuna age 11, Y/N age 10)
You were the new girl, a little shy but so pretty. And well, when you came up to Sukuna and smiled, asking where your class was, he couldn’t even speak, he just stood there, mouth flopping like some fish as you waited. His little brother Yuuji finally answered you, staring at his brother in confusion. ‘it’s right there across the hall’.
“Oh, thank you! What’s your name?” You smile at him then, and your smile is just too… annoying, yes, it annoys Sukuna.
“Yuuji, I’m in fourth grade but Sukuna is in fifth. What grade are you in?” He nudges his brother, who rolls his ruby red eyes.
“I’m in fourth too! Oh, so you’re Sukuna then?” You ask sweetly, turning to Sukuna, something happens then, Sukuna blushes. “Are you okay?”
He scowls at you now. “Of course I am, what’re you looking at?” He demanded, and your mouth opened in surprise.
“What?”
“Yeah, stop staring, new kid.” You roll your eyes now, shaking your head with a narrowing of your own eyes.
“You’re pretty rude.”
“You’re pretty weird.” You scoff then, and Yuuji is waving his arms up and down, stepping between you.
“Be nice, Sukuna. Um, can I walk you to class?” You nod then, giving Sukuna a glare, as Yuuji whispers in his ear.
“You’re such a jerk, she’s pretty.”
“Tch, whatever.” Sukuna watches as you walk off with Yuuji then, he does not like whatever it is you just made him feel. He’s thankful you’re not in any of his classes until you walk right into art, and you’re nervously standing near the teacher. She introduces you, and Sukuna finally learns your name.
“You can sit next to Sukuna!” Sukuna crosses his arms, jaw setting, and you look at him, wondering just what his problem is.
You think he’s really cute, for such a jerk, as you sit next to him and peer over at his sketch, which is actually really good. Trying to still be friendly, you let him know- “that’s awesome!”
Sukuna scoffs, covering it up quickly, no one has really seen his art, and your compliment makes him blush. “I didn’t show you.”
You frown now, brows knitting together. “Um, sorry, but it’s so cool. Could I see more?”
“No!”
“Um…”
“Just stop talking, would you? Bad enough I have to sit by you.” Your lower lip trembles, and Sukuna feels horrible now. “I’m… look, I’m-”
“Sorry.” You whisper, sniffling just a bit and looking at the teacher, and Sukuna hates himself then, he keeps wanting to say something, anything, but when he finally catches you in the hall, you glare at him.
How are you even cuter glaring!?
“Leave me alone, you’re a… a jerk!” You say then, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.
“Me, a jerk? Why because I’m not fawning over the new girl?”
“No, because you… just are a jerk!”
“Well you’re a brat.” Sukuna says, and you gasp, turning angrily and clutching your books, Sukuna rubs his hand over his face, sighing then.
He really messed that up.
*****
You swirl your straw around your cup as Sukuna sips on his whiskey, looking far too damn fine you think, and you know it’s not the couple of drinks in your system. It’s just him and who he is, everything about him since day one drew you in, despite his best efforts at being an ass to you. You smile a bit as you remember the day that you met him.
“You were so mean, for no reason.” You muse softly, he sighs then, running a hand through pink strands of slick backed hair.
“Yeah, I was… then when I tried to apologize, you scowled at me.” You giggle then, the sound ending him completely, the way your cute nose scrunches up, god had he ever told you? Has he ever really said a compliment more than a handful of times to you?
“I was mad at you, for sure. My whole life people really liked me, but you didn’t at all, and I couldn’t fix it.”
“People pleaser.” You sigh at that, leaning a bit on your elbow, breasts showing far too much in your pretty neckline.
“I am, for sure.”
“When you laugh…” He trails off now, psyching himself up, taking a breath as he studies you seriously.
“When I laugh…”
“Your nose scrunches up… it’s cute.” He mumbles, almost like he’s in pain, and you giggle again, making him smile just a bit before he realizes it.
“It is!? Is that a compliment from Sukuna?”
“There are a lot of compliments I have for you. But, yeah, it’s annoyingly cute.” Your giggles relax a bit, as you now bite your lower lip, tempting him to kiss you all over again. “The things I can’t wait to do to you.”
That sobers you up, sending chills across your entire body, desire stark on your pretty face. “Oh yeah?” Your little breathy mumble wrecks him, but outwardly he raises a brow.
“Is that your attempt at being nonchalant, brat? Oh yeah?” He mocks, you shove at him then, as he snorts in laughter.
“Is that your attempt at being sexy- ‘can’t wait to show you little brat’ pshh.” You’re mocking him in a deep tone, Sukuna can’t stop the smirk.
“Bet it worked, bet you’re all wet, hmm?” You pause now, biting your lower lip again, teeth leaving marks when he gently pulls it from your teeth’s grip. “Nothing smart to say?”
“Shut up.” Is all you mumble, and he exhales, ruby eyes glinting as they watch you so carefully, studying your every feature. “So is that what you needed to say? My laugh is kind of cute?”
Sukuna clears his throat now, shifting a bit on the barstool, running a thumb down the glass. “No. The day we met, I should have told you that… you were pretty, and sweet. And I was an ass.” You blink in confusion.
“Sukuna, are you dying or something!? Is this some end of life apology tour!? You better not be, I swear to-”
“Shut it.” He stops you now, a fingertip to your lips. “I ain’t dying, calm down, can a man not… speak on some shit?”
“Sure, but it’s you, like my mortal enemy? Bane of my existence? Bully the entirety of school?”
One of his big hands is brushing against your bare thigh now, you look down at it, all tattooed, veiny, huge… making your tummy flip. “Maybe I wanted to be more than that.”
“Yeah?” Your voice is a breathy whisper, you half wonder if you’re in some dream, Sukuna being nice to you!? Being so close after so long?
“Yeah. So another drink, another story?”
“Hmm, do I get another kiss if I listen?” You tease, feeling the liquor make you bold, warming your insides. Sukuna’s lips quirk up on one side, his breath tickling your neck when he leans close, lips almost brushing against it. You feel your pulse flutter when his plump lips touch the shell of your ear just barely, like a fire igniting inside you, more than any liquor could produce.
“I’ll not just kiss you everywhere, I’ll fucking bite you everywhere, lick you all over, every…” His lips kiss your jaw line. “Pretty.” Your neck. “Inch.” He’s right behind your ear, that sensitive spot, kissing and nipping just so, you bite back a cry and fail, earning his chuckle. “You’re so easy f’me, huh brat?”
“Oh f-fuck you…” Your grumble makes him laugh, the sound tickling you as hiegrips your chin, tilting it up to look at him. “You’re the worst.”
“I know, I have been, for all these years. Ya ready for the next story? Then I promise…” He’s trailing his fingers down your thigh now, making your knees literally knock together, tummy clenching with an insane need you’ve only felt once, back on the last day you all really talked to each other. “Then we can head out of here.”
“Better be good, if it’s boring I’ll leave.” Your half hearted promise just makes him throw his head back in laughter, as he orders two more drinks, loosening his tie just a bit, making your thoughts haywire. “Where to, then? What trip down memory lane of bully Sukuna?”
Sukuna tenses just a bit, the things that he’s held in so long threatening to spill. “Middle school… more specifically, seventh grade, Yuuji’s party?”
It’s your turn to tense, at the brutal memory, so long ago. “Oh…”
*****
The second time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, 7th/8th grade (Kuna age 14, Y/N age 13)
You were boogie skating with these fancy rainbow skates you saved all your allowance for, as all your friends were gathered around, some over at concessions, some at the arcade, some skating alongside you. But Sukuna? He was leaning on the edge of the brightly colored wall, watching no one but you, he could pick you out of anywhere, really.
You were so good at skating too, legs crisscrossing to the beat, your friends and his all murmuring about how good you are at it. You’re giggling as you whisper something to your friend Nobara, her and Yuuji were all best friends, along with Megumi, who was sipping on a coke next to Sukuna and Yuuji.
“She’s really good, isn’t she?” Megumi says, and Sukuna scoffs, shrugging.
“I guess.”
“She’s insane at it, she teaches kids and everything.” Yuuji says.
“You got it so bad for her.” Megumi teases, and then Sukuna tenses a bit, looking at you again, then at his brother, who is blushing.
“Nah, she’s just my friend. She’s so pretty though.”
You and Nobara are hopping off the floor, and Nobara looks right at Sukuna then, blinking her brown eyes and narrowing them. Sukuna wonders at just what you’re telling her, as you nervously bite your lower lip, then you’re waving your arms wildly as Nobara skates over to the three of them, and you tentatively follow, color decorating your cheeks under neon lights.
“Hey, Sukuna.” Nobara says, and he leans back on the wall.
“Yeah, what is it?”
She comes closer then, leaning a little too close. “Do you like her?” She says your name then, and Sukuna glares, stuttering, Megumi and Yuuji snicker in laughter behind him when you approach.
“What kind of question is that?” He says, and Nobara glares now.
“It’s just a question, okay? You can’t keep your eyes off her.” She smirks, and you cover your face in embarrassment.
“Ignore her, please.” You mumble, wanting to fall into a hole then and there, as the loud music blares around the rink.
“Everyone says you have a crush.” Nobara continues.
“You do stare at her all the time…” Megumi says, Sukuna turns away then, crossing his arms, feeling so embarrassed he can’t think.
“You don’t have to answer, Sukuna, it’s okay…” You touch his shoulder then, and just a touch from you ruins his middle school brain, when he looks down at your cute little face. “I figured you didn’t, she just…”
“I don’t, not at all.” He says the words so sharply you yank your hand back like it was burned, eyes wide on him now.
“Okay.” You manage, and Sukuna hates how your face falls then.
“You’re such a jerk! Why do you have to say things like that!?” Yuuji says, and he scoffs.
“Always coming to her defense, aren’t you the one with the crush?”
“He’s my friend, Sukuna.” You say, as Yuuji scowls at his older brother.
“Yeah well, I wouldn’t ask you out if you were the last girl in school.” Your face falls now, and everyone gasps, as there were more kids from your class gathering around. Sukuna falters then, but you cross your arms, scowling.
“Good, because I would never say yes! You’re the last boy in the world I’d ever go out with!” You shout it practically, people are all whispering as you skate off then, fury raging through your veins, and Sukuna stands there, as everyone looks at him with confusion.
“What’s your problem!? She really likes you, you’re so stupid!” Nobara hisses, chasing after you now, and Megumi and Yuuji shake their heads, leaving Sukuna to skate off towards the lockers, hastily taking them off as his mind whirls with what he’s just done to you.
You’ve done nothing but be as nice as you can to him since he’s Yuuji’s brother, but that’s the only reason he thinks you’ve tolerated him at all. He picks on you constantly, he tugs at your hair, he’s even snipped a part of it off in elementary school, he may or may not have kept it.
He throws paper balls at you, he tugs at your shirt and makes fun of you, and even through all of it you’ve not done more than scowl, roll your eyes, tell him off. But Sukuna has it bad for you, in fact he thinks he’s in love with you, but he just becomes more of an idiot as you all are getting older. You affect him more and more as you become prettier and prettier.
He watches the way the light hits your face in class and stares dreamily before you’ll catch him, and he’ll scowl instead. He’s an idiot.
And now he knows he hurt you.
As he’s outside, about to walk home, you’re standing against the wall, covering your face, in tears, when you see him, turning away quickly. Sukuna pauses then, his heart breaking, knowing he’s embarrassed you, but he doesn’t know what to say. He walks up, earning your glare, though your eyes are puffy, and your nose is all red from rubbing it.
“I… I…” He trails off, and you shake your head.
“If your goal is to embarrass me, you succeeded. I should have never told her I liked you…”
Sukuna sputters, mouth opening and closing. “You what!?”
“I don’t anymore, don’t worry.” You rub at your eyes now, sobs catching in your throat when you look up into ruby red eyes, eyes that apparently hate you, but you see something different, something softer.
“Why would you like me?” He asks then, and you want to laugh.
“How would I know? You’re a mean jerk, always have been. Maybe I needed you to be mean like that, to really knock that idiot idea out of my head.” Sukuna feels himself breaking inside now, two hands coming to your shoulders, making you gasp as you tilt your head back to look at him.
He’s already taller than anyone, and the more he grows up the cuter he is, the worse your crush gets. The more you hang out at Yuuji’s house, the more you see him, the more you fall, shit the meaner he is the more you fall. You can’t even find it in you to stay mad at him, when he makes your heart race, when you’re drawing doodles of him and you in your notebook.
You asked Nobara not to say anything, but she was so sure that he liked you back, though you knew he didn’t, you knew he hated you. He has since he met you, and you don’t know what you did.
“Listen, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean it.” You scoff, shoving at him, his hands fall.
“You don’t need to feel sorry for me. I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”
Sukuna blinks back his own emotion, gulping. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Then why’d you say it?” You look up at him, when your eyes look at him like that he hates himself so much, knowing he’s just lying to you, to himself.
“I just… everyone was…”
“You care so much what people think, despite acting like you don’t.” Sukuna scowls at you now. “Embarrassed to like me?”
“What!? Why the fuck would it be embarrassing to like you?”
“You tell me. Not pretty enough? Not popular enough? I see who you hang out with. Just forget it, I promise I’ll never say I like you again.” You peek at your phone now, sliding it up, but Sukuna cups your face, leaning close, your eyes dart to his lips, thinking for some insane moment he’d be your first kiss.
No way though.
“You’re pretty, okay? Very pretty.” You pause then, mouth open in a gasp, and Sukuna laughs without humor. “How can you think you’re not?”
“I… um… you…”
“I didn’t mean it.” He steps closer, thumb brushing a tear away from your cheek. “I’m sorry I… made you cry.”
“You always make me cry.” You whisper, and he gulps now.
“Yeah, I do. But this time… I’m really sorry.”
You sigh then, hand touching his wrist, making his own pulse race, as he thinks wildly of kissing you, of something he’s dreamed of since he first found out what it was. “You don’t have to apologize for not liking me back.”
“I-”
“But for saying it like that? Yeah it was mean.”
“Listen…”
“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile sadly, backing off when you see your mom’s car pull up, and Sukuna is left dumbfounded. “Don’t worry, I swear I won’t say it again, I won’t even… think it again.”
You know you’re lying.
Sukuna says nothing as you get in your mom’s car, and she’s asking if you’re okay, he watches her hug you for a moment before she begins to drive, and he sees your eyes full of tears again, streaking down your face. Yuuji walks out front then, nudging him as he watches his brother’s eyes glimmer with what looks like tears.
“Why’d you do it?” Yuuji asks, and Sukuna sighs.
“I don’t know.” He admits, Yuuji puts a hand on his back then.
“You’re a big idiot.”
“Excuse me!?”
“You are.”
He was.
*****
Suddenly all that embarrassment floods you, you tense at the memories, hating how vivid they are, after all these years. You nervously look away, downing the rest of your nearly empty drink in one gulp. Sukuna is quiet then, and you wonder just what his angle is, is he here to embarrass you again? Is this some long term bully shit? Is that an apology tour?
“Are you in therapy and making rounds?” You ask softly, voice breaking, and then you feel his hand wrap the back of your neck, resting his head against yours, making you ache for him.
“I don’t feel bad for shit I’ve done, ever, except what I’ve done to you.” You look at him, he’s too close, far too close. He sees your emotions mirroring his own, and it breaks him. “I should have never fucking done it.”
“Sukuna, we were in middle school. It’s fine.”
“It’s not though, because it was such a blatant lie. God how did you not know how bad I was down for you?” You suck in a breath, shaking your head quickly, and hopping off the barstool.
“You’re lying! What even is this shit.” Sukuna pulls you between his thighs, brushing your hair back behind your ear as you tremble. “Sukuna…”
“I am not lying, but I was then, an idiot kid who was mean as shit to you.”
“Why were you so mean?”
“I’m trying to get there. Can you keep listening?” You shake your head, sniffling. Now, it’s just like being back there, back on that day where you were so embarrassed you could hardly face anyone.
“I can’t handle this shit… it’s things I’ve shoved so far back…”
“I know.” Sukuna’s strong thighs are under your tiny little hands, pressing against his muscles under the expensive fabric, as everything fades in the world but him, but the longing that’s eating you both up from the inside. Your breaths come quicker when he looks at you, that intense way, with his arrogant smirk finally not on his face, just once.
“Why do you wanna do this, rehash it?” You ask now, leaning even closer, until you’re right against his body, and he’s bending low.
“I need to tell you some important shit, I just need you to listen. Do I need to reward your bratty ass for some patience?” There’s that smirk.
“Maybe, I offered to hook up, not go through yearbooks.”
“Fine, so let’s get out of here, let you get some air, and we’ll continue. I’ll… take care of you, hmm?”
“Yeah, think you could?” He snorts, rolling his ruby eyes, hopping down, towering right over you, taking over your every sense.
“You ask dumb fucking questions, I think that’s the one thing you know I could do…” He leans right down, cupping your face. “Ruin you for anyone.”
“Big talk.” You’re so full of shit, your body is on fire, your heart is pounding out of your chest, the clothes feel too tight, everything swirls around you.
“You know it’s not.” Sukuna pays for the tab then, walking you out, the cool night air hits you, making you shiver, so he wraps a jacket around your shoulders, shocking you. “You think I’m that much of a dick?”
“Yes.” He laughs then, that booming laugh that makes him throw his head back, as you snuggle against his jacket, inhaling the expensive scent of musky cologne. “You have nice taste though.”
“Bet you do too. A nice taste.” He pulls you against his hard chest, feeling your soft breasts press against him, making his cock hard just from that. “Wanna know how badly I’ve wanted to?”
“T-taste me?” You whisper, all bravado and teasing gone, the breeze gently blowing your hair around as you wait for his driver.
“Fuck yes. Should I right here, brat?” He slips his hand under the lapels of the jacket, slipping over your dress and slipping it up, as people walk in and out of the busy little dive bar. You feel yourself so wet you’ve made a werspot in your panties, panties his thumb finds slowly.
“Right h-here?” You whisper nervously, when his driver pulls up in a whole fucking limo, you blink in surprise at it, as his hands fall.
“You’d let me, so desperate.” You glare again, making him grin. “I love when you scowl at me.”
“Are you feeling okay!? And a limo, pretentious.” You eagerly slide in with his help though, seeing everything one could dream of, as he leans over, pulling out a bottle of champagne, raising a brow, the slits in it just making him sexier, damn him. “You just ride in a limo?”
“Why not? I have these long legs, and I like to be comfortable.”
“Psh…” He pours you a glass of champagne then, and you eye a little white baggie curiously, along with a bag of weed. “Damn you partying everywhere?”
“On occasion, usually this shit is for clients though.” You giggle a bit, sipping the champagne. “I would never offer coke, but you smoke?”
“No, not really. I did once and it made me so stupid.”
“Fair enough.” He closes up the little open box, arm over you casually, kissing his way up your neck carefully, enjoying your sighs of pleasure. “Do you want a reward for listening to two stories?”
“Hmm, what do I get? A gold star?” He smirks, shaking his head and kissing you, the tart of the champagne swapping between your tongues, the kiss is slow, sensual, before it builds, and he’s setting down your glasses. He’s got you on his lap so quickly your head spins, and you’re grinding on his length, gasping in pleasure, your head falling back.
“Holy… f-fuck…” He huffs, all bravado gone when he feels your slick warmth through the layer of his dress pants. “You’re that hot?”
“Am I?” You can’t think, not when you feel his length pressed, making you whimper, which he chuckles at, nipping your collarbone between his teeth.
“That little whine? Fuck… pathetic.”
“I hate you.” You grumble then, shoving at him, but he holds you by your hips, pressing you against him harder. “Let me go, ass.”
“I like you pathetic, sweet, whiny. Sexy as fuck.” You are dragged back down for a kiss, your teeth clicking with the intensity, as you roll your hips more and more, and he slips those hands up, the veins popping out when he grabs you bruisingly. “Everything about you is made to drive me insane.”
“You’re saying insane shit, Sukuna. Is this a booty call, a hate fuck… or…” You pause, gasping as he thumbs your clit over your panties, pressing against the damp fabric, making you whimper again, eyes rolling back.
“Ya think that’s all I want? No, brat, the reason I didn’t do shit… is because… I know I’ll never be able to fuckin’ stop.” You’re flipped under him, back pressing against the seat, as he hovers over you. You yank his tie down, slamming his lips against yours, hungry lips that drink every moan you have when his hand slips between your thighs, yanking your thong to the side.
“Kuna…” He groans, slipping fingers up and down your slit, you’re trembling now, breaths quicker and quicker.
“Need something, brat?” Your brows lower, you have an insult on the tip of your tongue when his finger tip presses your tight entrance, and then Sukuna loses it, shoving his finger all the way in, moaning. “You’re this fuckin tight?”
“Ngh…” You can’t manage an answer, not when he’s crooking his finger just so, pressing that little spot inside you, finding it better than any boyfriend could just the first time, and your walls are gripping his thick digit, while your hand still clutches his tie.
“There it is, ha- feel her, fuck.” Sukuna is simultaneously in control and losing control as he plays you, curling his fingers in syrupy wetness, making you fall apart under him, hips bucking when his thumb presses your clit again. “Like both, that pussy so slutty f’me?”
“S-slutty…” Your brain short circuits, when he slips in two, stretching you out, your dress scrunched up over your hips, he hovers over you, watching every expression on your pretty face avidly.
“That’s it… let go, huh? Make a fucking mess.” You’re panting, you’ve never cum from just fingers like this, not when he’s building that tension, pressing two up and rubbing your clit, until you’re reaching higher and higher. “Feel it, feel her, she wants to cum, just let her, huh?”
“F-fuck!” You scream out then, kissing him deeply, desperately, as he makes your pussy convulse around him, orgasm washing through you in waves, until you’re weak and boneless under him, twitching cunt gripping his fingers, so slick you hear it.
“That’s it, there you go.” He rubs his fingers up and down your slit now, easing up, sucking your juices off his fingers, cheeks hollowing. You gulp at the sight, of the sexiest fucking thing you’ve seen, his eyes rolling back in his skull. “Can’t wait to bury my face, eat you so good you pass the fuck out.”
“Wh-what? You…” You can’t function, from fingers, when he kisses you again, slower, letting you taste yourself.
“Can’t wait to make you stupid. Fuck your brains out. Be nothing but me, brat, yeah?” His husky voice, his tight grip, his brutal kisses destroy you, they’re not the kiss you shared last time, not even close, he’s letting go, he’s ending you.
“K-Kuna…” He exhales now, easing off you as he helps you up, your coat having fallen onto the seats, leaving him to caress your bare arms gently.
“Feel better, brat? So needy.” You smack at him, only making him laugh just a bit. “Wanna know what I should’ve told you then?”
“Shit… forgot all of that.” You blink rapidly, disoriented.
“Cock drunk off fingers? So easy.”
“You know, drop me off-”
“Hush, brat.” He yanks you up, sitting you right on his lap, but this time sideways, sipping his drink and then holding the glass to your lips, you sip greedily, sighing and finding your arms wrapping around his neck, as he pulls you even closer against him, burying his face against your neck.
“What did you need to tell me then, Kuna?” You whisper, getting weaker by the moment, the orgasm destroying you, and making you wonder…
What would his dick be like?
His mouth?
If his fingers casually do that?
“I should have told you…” He exhales, pulling you close, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent greedily. “That I did have that crush, fuck way more than that, you were all I could think of. You still are.”
You still now, pulling back a bit, as your eyes lock in the led lit limo, your breaths mingling as they come quicker and quicker. “Y-you liked me?”
He shakes his head. “That wasn’t even the word. There’s a stronger word… one that terrified me then. I was a little ass, a shithead.”
“Yeah you were.”
He glares, pinching your hip then, making you yelp. “Can’t wait to occupy that bratty fucking mouth.”
“Oh yeah? Gonna shut me up?” You whisper, earning his cock leaking precum now, god only you could have this effect on him.
“I’ll shut you up, have your voice hoarse, shove my cock so deep.” You whimper, shifting, and he kisses you again, brutal and rough, teeth almost making your lower lip bleed, his grip on your hips pressing so deep you can’t breathe. “Hoarse from screaming, from my cock stretching your throat, so fucked out you won’t be able to sit or walk.”
“This is a lot of talk, Kuna. How many more fucking stories before you back it up, hmm?” You demand, voice breathy, he smiles then.
“Three.”
“Oh come on!”
“Shut it, brat. You ain’t gonna die, ain’t had my dick this long.”
“Well hurry your mean bully stories up.” You earn a gentle smack on your cheek, only making you whine out, as you smack him back, making him die for you, kissing you again before he remembers.
He needs to tell you it all.
“Make 'em quick, dammit.”
“Slutty brat.” He earns another smack, grinning, white teeth glinting. “Fine, fine… how about that time we kissed in high school?”
You heat up then. “Oh…”
*****
The third time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, junior/sophomore year of HS- (Kuna age 17, Y/N age 16)
By this time, Sukuna already had a reputation, he was the bad boy, always in and out of trouble. He rode a ridiculous motorcycle around, and he always had the new flavor of his month on the back of it. You barely even knew a girl who hadn’t made out with Sukuna… or probably more, but you were not one to care.
Sukuna and you went from enemies to nothing. He quit picking on you, and in some fucked, weird way you missed it, any of his attention. Walking through the halls and seeing him with his arm around a new girl all the time filled you with some odd sensation you didn’t wanna think of.
It’s a party over at Gojo’s house tonight, his parties were kind of ridiculous because of just how rich he was, and he damn near lived all alone. There was an insane amount of people there, as you navigated the party with a red solo cup in your hands, so nervously, Yuuji came bouncing over to you waving with his happy little grin on his face.
“Hey!” He shouts your name, Megumi follows in tow, smiling just a bit, a mere quirk of the corner of his lips.
“Hey Yuuji, Megumi. Where’s Nobara?”
“She’s over there, about to play… suck and blow.” Yuuji snickers now, you giggle at him and roll your eyes, looking over as people are sucking on a debit card, passing it in a circle, you see Gojo there, kissing a girl then, making you blush a bit as they really go at it.
“Oh… that game sounds…”
“Germ ridden.” Megumi declares with a shiver, you snort in laughter then.
“Yes, germ ridden.” You agree, then your heart stops as Sukuna is right in the mix, he’s towering over everyone but Gojo, as he passes the card to and from the girls on either side of him. For some reason, every time you see him you get this feeling, it’s not butterflies, it’s vicious moths, aggressive and beating you.
Yes, moths you think. Sukuna didn’t give butterflies.
He smirks at you like he just knows something all the time, and nothing could be more irritating. Seeing you now, Gojo shouts your name, waving you three over to the game, the table in front of them was littered with shot glasses and fallen empty cups. “Hey sweets!”
“Satoru, hey!” He gives you a big hug.
“Mwah!” You giggle as he kisses your forehead, Satoru Gojo is a touchy feely friend to damn near everyone, including Sukuna. “Thanks for coming, I know it’s not your scene.”
“I totally snuck out for this, it better be good.” You tease, and Satoru wiggles his brows, brushing back silky white hair, as Sukuna scowls at the gesture. He hated just how touchy he was with the girl Sukuna so secretly pined for.
But you certainly didn’t know he did, in fact Sukuna kept it such a good secret you thought he straight up hated you. Although the picking on you eased up some as you all got older, you’re just getting prettier, sweeter, smarter. You don’t hang out as much with Yuuji, and Sukuna misses you there. He has one class with you and he thinks he’s maybe said a handful of things to you this year.
“You can stand right… here.” Satoru moves another girl over between Yuuji and Megumi, and puts you smack dab between him and Sukuna, making you tense up as you look at him.
“Hah, why her?” Sukuna says then, your fists clench at your sides, Satoru lets out a little laugh.
“Prefer me next to you, baby boy?” He blows a kiss at Sukuna, and he grimaces, earning the laughter of everyone around, except you, feeling just how much Sukuna still can’t stand your presence, for whatever reason.
“God no, okay fine.”
“Yes, I know it's so terrible, huh?” You mumble, Satoru hands you the card then with a smirk.
“No way, you’re the best partner. Get started missy.” You suck on it then, pressing it between your lips and Satoru’s, as each of you passed the card. Along the way it falls across from you, and two people have to make out, everyone else has a drink. You cough just a bit at the burn of this god awful punch you’re sipping then, and Sukuna gives you that sardonic ass look.
“Can’t handle a drink, brat?”
“No, I never have…” He blinks a bit then.
“Oh, shit… why-”
“Pay attention, Sukuna.” Gojo calls, and he turns then, sucking on the card, then bending low, one hand brushing your shoulder as he blows the card on your lips, then you turn and go to blow the card onto Gojo’s as the card clatters to the table.
‘Ooooh’ everyone’s whispering and giggling as Satoru bends low, tilting your chin up to look up into his pretty blue eyes, Sukuna’s fury grows with every second, as he’s never seen you with anyone, thank god.
He could almost pretend you were his, that he didn’t get in his own way, that he doesn’t long after you for every moment of every day until this very moment. When Satoru leans down and kisses you, he feels it like a punch to the gut, something nauseating, seeing his hands on you.
His lips on yours.
Sukuna is downing a shot and having to look away when Satoru’s hand entangles in your hair at the nape of your neck. He’s never wanted so badly till take someone the fuck out, and for what? You’re not his, you probably never would be, it’s not like he has any reason to be this upset. But…
You’re gasping as Satoru kisses you deeply, slipping his tongue in between your lips, and your tummy flutters as he does. Satoru’s breath is sweet, and little does he know yet, he’s your first kiss, then and there in front of countless people. He pulls back with a little smile, his snowy lashes lower over his eyes, as you try to gather yourself, he leans in against your ear.
“You’re a good kisser, sweets.” You smile a bit, laughing breathlessly.
“My first.”
“No way!?” He pulls back and blinks a bit, eyes looking at the huge, furious pink haired man behind you. Satoru smirks mischievously, it’s no secret to him or any of Sukuna’s friends how bad he has it. “I’ll keep it secret.”
Satoru crosses his chest with his fingers in the sign of a cross, and you exhale in relief. “Thank you. Shots?”
“Shots!” You both down shots with everyone, and then Satoru picks up the game again, as you turn just a bit to see Sukuna glaring down at you.
“Something wrong?” You ask curiously, and he laughs then, a mocking sound, shaking his head.
“Why would shit be wrong?”
“Right, you didn’t have to kiss me.” You say with a pat on his arm, and he gulps down more of his drink, before his hand crushes the solo cup.
“Tch.” He says nothing as the card hits him again, and you almost assume it will fall, that he’ll kiss someone, but it doesn’t, not until it hits you, then the card clatters to the fucking ground, leaving you looking up at him wide eyed.
“Oooh, those two!?” Someone says, and everyone stares at you both, it’s obvious Sukuna’s a bully to you, and that you can’t stand him.
“Two kisses in one game already?” Satoru teases, you bite your lip then, looking at Sukuna’s mouth, set in a line.
“You don’t have to.” You say softly, and Sukuna snatches you up against him then, shocking you, your eyes fly to his.
“Think I’m scared, brat?” He whispers.
“I think you don’t want to.” You whisper back, and you expect it, some retort of his, but he slams his lips down on yours, taking over every sense you’ve ever had, tasting your lips and tongue as he devours you then. It’s not sweet and sensual like Satoru, it’s full of everything he’s ever felt, pouring in your lips.
Your hand slides up his arm, across a bicep, thumb brushing it when his two hands find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer. He kisses you hard and brutal, his hands tightening to a bruising touch as he practically growls into your mouth, his tongue moving against yours. You don’t even know what you’re doing, but it feels all consuming.
It’s wild and fiery, and you can feel his heart slamming in his chest, his breathing heavy as yours come in shallow pants, and it’s like everything stops around you. You can’t remember everyone is watching you, can’t be embarrassed when a hand slips up your spine, and he tilts his head to get better access to your mouth. You can’t hear any of the whispers, not with your heart pounding in your ears.
You don’t know why you’re kissing him back with such fervor, why your arms are wrapped around his neck, the boy you hate, right? The boy who’s made school awful at times, who loves to fuck with you almost every day, you think maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the thrill of it all, but as your kiss ends you know you’re wrong. Kisses don’t feel like this, do they?
He pulls back, damn near ready to tear into you here and there in front of everyone, something feral happening to him, Sukuna has already been with a couple of girls, but he never felt anything more intense than kissing you, then seeing your reddened plump lips, swollen from him. It drives his high school brain absolutely erratic, when he cups your face, looking how small you are compared to him.
He pictures lifting you and-
“Okay, okay… calm down or get a room.” Satoru teases, as Yuuji and Megumi have their jaws on the damn floor.
Everything is spinning now, not from the alcohol but from that kiss, from the intensity of his emotions crashing into yours. You pull away, panting, and his eyes are so dark then, his pupils dilated with something you’ve never seen before. Is it… desire? Is it… curiosity? It feels like something more… something…
You blush furiously, clearing your throat when you realize you’re just standing there with your mouth open, in front of an entire party. Sukuna doesn’t stop staring at you, in fact he can’t rip his eyes off you, nor does he take his hands off you, as you tremble now, goosebumps where his touch still sits on your skin.
“I need some air… too many kisses.” You manage, before running out then, struggling to get a breath, the tiny amount of alcohol is coursing through your veins, mixing with the heat from Sukuna’s kisses.
You’re inhaling the night air greedily, looking up at the starry sky, shaking your head as you cover your overheated face. You’d kissed Satoru and Sukuna, and Satoru had been so fun, so sweet and exciting. But what the actual heck was that with Sukuna!? What was this feeling you can’t shake, you can’t cope with!?
Sukuna dies to go after you, to finish everything he started, to kiss your face, your neck, perhaps more if you were ready. He would be happy just kissing you though, nothing else, if you offered just that, because he’s never felt it. Satoru, Suguru and his other friends are all snickering at him now.
“Go after her, Romeo.” Suguru says, and Sukuna glares at him.
“What? Why?”
“C’mon man, we all saw. Looked like you’d eat her.” Satoru says.
“In more ways than one?” Suguru chimes in, earning Sukuna’s angry glare, he shakes his head then. “Oh stop this… she’s hot, why not go for it?”
“She’s the bane of my existence. A kiss doesn’t change that.”
“She’s available then?” Satoru asks teasingly, as you’re walking back up, getting a drink poured by Nobara.
“Of course she is… it was just a kiss in a game.” You hear him then, and Nobara instantly has her hand comfortingly on your back.
“Don’t pay attention, he clearly was into you.” She murmurs, Satoru eyes you both then, before looking back at Sukuna.
“So if I ask her out you’re cool with it buddy?” He teases with a big grin.
“If you what!?”
“Mmm, ask her out. If you don’t even like her that way?” Sukuna sputters now, and everyone’s whispering about him, about the kiss.
“Why ask me?” He huffs with disdain, and you quietly join back in, this time on the other side of Satoru, Sukuna notices it furiously, making a show of kissing the next girl as the card drops again.
You hate how you feel about it, about him.
As you’re dancing later with Satoru, you watch him sitting on the couch with two girls on his lap, but his eyes are laser focused on you, every motion you make with your hips in a figure eight motion. You feel his eyes like a brand on your skin, like he’s undressing you with them, but he doesn’t come near you, you’re both just across the room, with the energy between you.
The amount of times Sukuna replays this in his mind over and over, the kiss that destroyed him. But instead of telling you how he feels, he says nothing, watching as you move on, and as he pretends he is as well, but is he really? Will he ever be?
*****
You’re remembering the kiss vividly, Sukuna watches your eyes go fuzzy, as you both pull up to his place. You just sit there, nervously shiting in his lap. “Those were… my first kisses. Isn’t that insane?”
“What was insane was that I wanted to kill him for kissing you, I wanted to kill anyone who touched you, kissed you.”
“You did?” You ask softly, he nods then, smirking just a bit.
“Best kiss I had.”
“What!?”
“I should have told you. Not acted like…
“A dick?”
“That mouth, brat.” He is glaring as you giggle. “I acted like I didn’t care, but I did… and your bratty ass dated Satoru after that!?”
“Well, he was sweet and asked me out. What’d you expect me to wait for you to figure it out?”
“Yes.” You both laugh softly then, his strokes up and down your spine making you long for more and more of him, every bit of his body, his touch, his heart.
“Three stories down, why don’t I…” You trail your fingers down his dress shirt, over his rippling abdomen. “Return that favor?”
“Killing me, brat.” He exhales, and soon you’re kissing in his elevator, as you ride up to his fancy penthouse, your breath catching at it. “Ya like?”
“Damn, you’re like rich!?”
Sukuna throws his head back, sliding his jacket off you then, eyeing your skin hungrily, thinking of all the ways he wants to kiss it, bite it, taste it. “Yeah, I’m fucking rich.”
“So humble too.”
“Why should I be? Fuck that.” He then hands you a glass of water, making your eyes narrow.
“Rich as fuck and I get water!?”
“It’s Evian.”
“Psh, where’s the liquor stash?”
He brushes your hair back then, gently. “Want you fully aware for the last two stories, yeah? Then you can have another if you want.”
“Yes, dad.” You tease, then his nostrils flare, making your lips turn up as you watch his reaction. “You like to be called Daddy don’t ya, freaky Kuna?”
Sukuna’s scowl just deepens, as he crosses his arms. “Oh shut that mouth, swear to god.”
“Shut me up- mnh!” Sukuna’s grabbed you right under your chin, squeezing your throat just so, as his free hand grips your ass.
“You listen to this one, I’ll let you suck me. And the last one, I’ll finally lick that pretty pussy.” You whine when he finds your slick heat over your panties, everything going just a little fuzzy. “Fuck you in positions you’ve never heard of.”
“All talk.” He lets you go, shaking his head, kissing you deeply again, you are falling into it, into how good he feels, letting it all surround you.
“Ya know I’m not, admit it.”
“Shush.” You take your water with a shaky hand, drinking it then.
“Good girl.”
Good girl!?
You can’t handle that from him, can’t handle the heat pouring between your thighs, in your tummy, making you ache for him more and more. “This story was about a time you didn’t have water, and you were all over me.”
You draw a blank then, shaking your head. “Psh, what!?”
“Mmhmm. Come, sit down.” He guides you over to an elegant living room, with a spacious black couch, everything sleek and modern, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the night sky.
“Beautiful.” You murmur softly, touching the clear glass for just a moment, he comes up behind you, kissing across your neck.
“I’ll fuck you on this window, let everyone have a show.”
“What!?”
“Let ‘em know you’re mine this time.”
“Sukuna!” You are dragged to the couch, sat down right next to him, his arm around you.
“Sip more water. So thirsty.”
“I really hate you.”
“You say that…”
“Yeah.” He tilts your chin up with two fingers, pressing his lips over yours over and over, little sweet kisses you don’t expect. “Mmm, so… remember your first frat party?”
“Barely! Oh shit I think I got drunk.”
“Oh yeah you did.
*****
The fourth time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, your senior year HS, his Freshman year college (Kuna age 19, Y/N age 18)
“Y’know… S-Sukuna… fuck you’re kinda hot!?” You’re stumbling as you speak to Sukuna that night, dressed in some mini skirt and crop top, showing everything. You make him furious, showing that body that seems to get prettier every year, the top showcasing far too much of your pretty breasts, the skirt showing too much of your sexy thighs.
Thighs he’d die to have wrapped around his head.
“What now, brat?” He demands, and you giggle, clearly shitfaced, you never partied so you’re an insane lightweight. And your friend is currently making out in a corner, leaving you stumbling over to him in heels that make no sense for you, for the girl he’s known so long. “What’s with the skank fit?”
“Fuck you I’m hot.” You giggle, doing a spin, and then nearly falling, Sukuna catches you with an arm around your waist, warm body pressed against his.
“That alcohol spiking that confidence?”
“Jus’ because you don’t think- m’hot doesn’t mean… m’not k?” You toss down your drink, giggling breathlessly, looking up at him with dilated eyes.
“When have I said you’re not?” He asks softly, guiding you away from the crowd, from the eyes of too many hungry frat boys. You somehow end up on his lap, arms around his neck, giggling and scrunching that cute ass nose of yours.
“You’ve said m’pretty like once. In middle school? Thass it, Kuna.”
“God, don’t call me that, drunky.” He brushes your hair back then, and you pause, inhaling just a bit, sudden clarity in a brief drunk haze. “You’re the prettiest brat there is, yeah? You’re gonna forget this. So fuck it.”
“The prettiest brat?” You repeat, and he smiles, nodding, before hissing when you shift, straddling him.
“The fuck are you doing!?” He demands, hands pressing on your waist, while you lean your face low, breath against his lips.
“Jus- wanna kiss. Or more… always wanted you to be-”
“Shh, stop.” He puts a hand on your mouth, shaking his head. “You’re shitfaced, don’t go saying dumb shit.”
You lick at his palm, giggling again, moving your hips, he feels your heat against his cock over his jeans, making him throb then. He was no virgin, far from it, but you make him blush. You make him tremble, and he hates this effect, that you so casually have, and don’t even know you possess.
Since he met you, you’ve done things to him, things that have him jerking it to images of you, memories of you. Practicing all the ways he’d take that virginity of yours back in the day, knowing he was a fucking idiot. Thinking of how he’s stretch that surely tight little hole, how he’s make you his.
But you dated boys, he dated girls.
You lived your life in your lane, he lived his.
You both rarely crossed, aside from your friendship with his brother and mutual friends, he doesn’t think he’d see you. He barely does now, and the way you’re looking at him addles his mind, short circuits his brain chemistry. God the things he wants to do with you…
But…
“You’re trashed.”
“I’m pretty to you.” You murmur, lips far too close, he can practically taste jello shots on you.
“You are.” He figures fuck it, what’s it matter?
You won’t remember.
“You’re beautiful.” He says, finally, after so many years, and you blink rapidly, sobering up almost it seemed, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks as they lower, as you take a breath.
“You think so?” You whisper.
“I know so, fuck who doesn’t?” He holds you still when you wiggle. “Don’t fucking do that, please.”
“Don’t wanna fuck me, Kuna? Don’t you fuck whoever?”
“Fuck you…” He trails off. Fucking you isn’t what he’d do, and he damn well knows it too well.
He’d lose himself in you.
“You wanna fuck me so bad, hmm?” He asks, husky voice breaking.
“What do you think?” You grind on him, his head falls back, moaning as you kiss up his throat, making his hands grip you bruising. “Haven’t I wanted to for s’long, Kuna… wanted y’inside me…”
“Shut the fuck up.” He shoves at you again, ruby eyes narrowing as he looks at your flushed cheeks and glittery eyes. “You’re drunk.”
“So?”
“So you need to get home. Nobara.” She looks up at the shout of her name, eyes wide when she sees you, gently pulling you now.
“Come on baby.”
“No, he wants me, look at him.” You giggle again, and Nobara can’t stop the smirk on her face.
“He does, but… you’re too tired, yeah?” You look at her, then Sukuna, yawning then and nodding as she eases you up.
“Am I?”
“You are. Say goodnight, remember you can’t stand Sukuna, yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” You blink again, stumbling against your friend, Sukuna’s hand cups your face gently.
“Good night, drunk brat.” He kisses your head, shocking you even in your drunk state, before looking at Nobara. “Got a ride?”
“Yeah, we’re good. Sukuna…” She whispers then.
“Hmm?”
“Just let her go if you don’t want to be with her. She deserves more than this… pining away for you.” Sukuna gulps at Nobara’s words.
“I…”
“She’s amazing, you know.”
“Yeah, I fucking know. Trust me.” She sighs, as you snuggle to her, blissfully unaware of the conversation, just mumbling how good Nobara smells.
“She wants to go to another university, but she’ll go here to see you. Let. Her. Go.” Sukuna watches you stumble away, feeling it like a knife to his chest.
God it was difficult to let you go, but were you wasting your chances for someone like him?
*****
“I literally don’t remember it…” You murmur softly then, while Sukuna’s fingers run lazily over your shoulders, sipping more water. “I think I remember sitting on your lap but it’s a blur?”
“Yeah, it was… hard…”
You’re laughing then. “Sorry!”
“Hard in many ways, sure. To turn this down?” You heat up under his praise now, so open for you.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Look at you.” You’re kissing him then, again, you could just keep kissing Sukuna, forever and ever you feel like. Like nothing could rip you from him, when you’re straddling his lap like that night, and he’s exhaling against your lips.
“What was the thing you should’ve said?” You whisper, rolling your hips, grinding your pussy on his shaft, he groans, kissing down the plump curve of your breast, sinking his teeth and making your head fall back.
“I did say it…” He grins, looking at the little teeth marks in your skin.
“Wh-what was it?”
“That you’re beautiful, and fuck you are.” You whimper when he yanks down your top, revealing your puffy nipples, taut and perky with want. “Oh my… fuck…”
He’s sucking one into his hot mouth now, your hands entangled in pastel locks, hips rocking for more and more, he’s dying to sink into you, and you’re dying for him to fill you. “Thank you, Kuna… and… did I say anything that…”
“You kept saying how hot I am.”
“You are, fuck you are. Sexiest man I’ve seen.”
“Damn, simp much?”
“Hate you!” You shove at him and he’s chuckling, kissing back down your breasts, sighing.
“You don’t hate me, shut it. Should we put that mouth to better fucking use?” He asks, and you nod eagerly. “You’re gonna obey that easily? Want it so bad?”
“Oh fuck you and your stories.” You slip down, one knee on one side of him, as you unzip him slowly, he hisses when his cock juts out of the jeans, of his boxers, so heavy and thick. You pause briefly, blushing when you see it, a tattoo around the base of his fucking cock, and a piercing on the tip.
“Cat got your tongue, slut?”
“Slut? You have a slutty tattoo on your slutty dick. And this? This…” You moan then, kneeling between his thighs spread, looking up at him so pretty then his heart flips in his chest, he’s as nervous if not more than he was when he was a virgin. Looking how beautiful you are, face resting on his thigh.
“Then put this slutty cock in your slutty mouth, huh?” You eagerly do as he says, taking him into your mouth slowly, teasing the piercing with your tongue, tasting his precum, salty and bitter, coating your tastebuds. “Mmgh, yeah, like that, pretty little whore.”
His words really should infuriate you, but you love it, jerking his hips up as you suck harder, faster, feeling his hands tighten in your hair, and god he’s losing his fucking mind, and it’s all because of you.
You love it, love the way he’s looking at you with lidded ruby eyes, as he fucks up into your mouth, alternating between gently cupping your cheek and shoving your throat down on his cock, all while looking at you. His eyes never leave your face, you hear his breaths, feel him tense. It’s intoxicating, feeling his cock swell and pulse in your mouth, feeling his eyes on you, watching you take him deep.
“So pretty, look at you, taking cock s’good. S’hungry for it, huh?” He’s mumbling now, trying to be so sure, so dominating of you, and he does, but he’s vulnerable, as your little fingers press against his thighs, as you’re sucking him so deeply. You breathe through your nose, feeling him get harder, impossibly harder, as you take him more and more.
Your cunt is pulsing around nothing, thinking of everything you’ve wanted, listening to him mumbling praise, watching that red streak from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. To make Sukuna blush was something so heady you couldn’t explain it, not as you keep sucking, as you slip his dress shirt up just a bit, revealing the hard, perfect planes of his abdomen.
“Fuck, you’re good at that, hmm?” He whispers, his eyes half lidded, his voice gruff and rough, so fucking sexy, and you moan around his cock, nodding. He’s so fucking big and it’s a struggle to take him all in, but you’re keep trying to, go even deeper, watching his breath hitch, his hips buck upwards. He keeps whispering your name until he yanks you off.
“Lemme suck you off, Kuna.” You plead, and he laughs insanely now, shaking his head as he looks down at you.
“Ya gotta be that good at this!? I’m mad you ever sucked anyone.” He grumbles, glaring now, you pout as he pulls you off, hands firm on your ass when he sits you back on him, and now he’s adjusting himself back in.
“Really!? Not another story, Kuna… I need to tell you my own shit.” You murmur, he puts a finger to your lips, shaking his head.
“I’m almost done, last story yeah? Then…” He rubs your cunt over your panties, so damp they’re sticking to your plump lips pathetically. “Then I’ll make her feel so fucking good, so good I promise.”
“You suck.” You say with a pout, earning another smirk as you try to catch your breath, leaning back against him. “Okay, one more, and only one.”
“You’re such a little-”
“Kuna…”
“A little… pretty ass bitchy ass-”
“Sukuna, I swear to god I’ll hit you.”
“Yeah?” He raises a brow.
“You’re a little bitch.”
“Swear to-”
“I should go.”
“You aren’t going any fucking where. C’mere.” He yanks you back down, as you huff in anger. “I’ll give her what she needs, have some patience. All fuckin night and day, just wait a little longer, huh?”
“F-fine.” You look down demurely, as Sukuna sighs, shutting his eyes.
“The last time we saw each other. Remember?”
“Shit…”
*****
The fifth time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, your Sophomore year of college, his Junior (Kuna 21, Y/N 20)
You weren’t even in the same college as Sukuna, but you still saw him, from time to time. You were close with Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara, and that meant sometimes seeing Sukuna, a girl on either side of him as he’s throwing pong balls into cups, and everyone is cheering for him.
Jock Sukuna.
Frat leader Sukuna.
Asshole hoe ass Sukuna.
You resent him, you hate it but you do, he’s popular and still somehow a huge asshole, he hasn’t changed a damn bit and people fawned over him, girls were all lining up for their turn, all except you. You’re glad you went to a different university, even if you missed your friends, it means you got to miss him being such a whore blatantly in front of the world.
He kissed one, then the other, like they’re both his girlfriends, chuckling until he catches sight of you.
You.
You make his heart race, wanting to thump right out of his fucking chest, tightening it so bad he can’t breathe for a moment. You’re in this gorgeous little dress, too fancy and pretty for some stupid ass frat party. He watches the eyes of everyone on you avidly as you smile, starting to get surrounded by his curious frat brothers, making his murder instincts kick into high gear.
When would everyone figure out you’re his? Shit, when would either of you figure it out, that this is what it was?
That he was in love with you.
That he’s been in love with you, since the first day you ran into the hall, over ten years back, when you’d had hurt in your eyes and your lower lip trembled. Loved you every minute of every day, and every day he falls deeper and deeper into being an idiot, drowning you away with cheap beer and endless annoying girls. Girls he couldn’t care less about, but they were safe bets.
They weren’t you.
Your eyes catch his across the room, sipping on your drink then, smiling up as your friends come to talk to you. Sukuna has maybe seen you three times this entire year, and he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t miss, god he misses picking on you, he misses that scowl you give him, the way you cross your arms.
He leaves the girls next to him, much to their dismay, walking up to you now, and your lips part as your drink sits just a bit down by your side, looking up at him with eyes that haunt his every fucking dream. Your body looks so good he can’t help but picture it naked in every position under him, while he says your name softly.
“Hey, Sukuna.” You manage to sound casual, while he’s shirtless, his already chiseled body buffer than you remember, tattoos already on his abdomen and wrists, ones that weren’t there before, that just make him sexier.
Fuck Sukuna.
Fuck him for being all you think about even now, when you have college, a part time job, a whole life. And you lay there, and think of him, picture him in ways that make you touch yourself, not knowing he’s jerking it in his dorm room to you, sometimes simultaneously, but of course neither of you has figured any of it out.
Clueless.
“You should… play?” He suggests, your brows draw together in confusion.
“Why are you being friendly?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?” You sigh then, shaking your head and walking away, making his jaw clench. “Excuse me?”
“You’re excused.” You stomp away, and Sukuna chases you, into a room now, shutting the door behind you, you peek around and realize you’re somehow in his room when you see the familiar things you’ve seen his whole life. His game system, his guitar… his collection of panties? “Jesus.”
“Yeah it’s a thing we do.” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, and you shake your head, turning to look up at him.
“Does it make you feel cool? Fucking the cheerleading squad?”
“Maybe it does. What do you care!?”
“I don’t.”
“Good.” He says.
“Good.” You agree, then you’re on each other, kissing each other hungrily, his hands gripping your ass, as you drink his moans.
“Why do you gotta act like this?”
“Like what, not easy?” You whisper, pulling back, and he groans, down on his knees suddenly, making you gasp, as he’s just a breath away from your hot, eager little pussy, lifting your skirt and moaning when he sees the damp spot. “What… are…”
“Lemme finally shut you the fuck up, brat.” He whispers, yanking them to the side just as the door tumbles open, you jerk back so fast as giggling girls pour in. “Don’t… get off me, fuck.” He’s shouting your name, chasing you, but you can’t get out of there fast enough.
What were you about to do!?
“Come back, fuck!” He’s yanking you by your wrist, and you scowl up at him. “Just let me… we’ll get a room, or…”
“No, thank god they came in. I’m an idiot, I have been. Down to be a notch in your stupid bedpost.”
“You’d never be-”
“Good bye Sukuna.” You leave him with watery eyes and a trembling lip, and he hates you more.
*****
You both sit there, staring at each other then, quietly, so much left unsaid over so many years, so much between you both. Your breaths make both of your chests rise and fall, while you wait with bated breath, feeling every bit of his energy consuming you, still tasting him on your lips, his pants still unzipped, your dress still tugging down your breasts just so.
“I was harsh.”
“Nah, you were real with me.”
“What did you want to say, then?” You ask quietly, and Sukuna curses, standing then, walking you back more and more until your shoulder blades hit the cool glass of his window, and you gasp, looking up at him. His gaze is hungry, it’s intense, looking right through you, seeing you. All of you.
“What I should have said, so many times… is that… I fucking love you, okay? In love with you. Stupid in love. Down bad like a little bitch.”
“What!?”
“You really couldn’t fucking tell!?”
You try to process his words, shaking your head now, tears welling up as the emotions hit you. “Like… in love?”
“Didn’t I say it, brat? Ya want some one knee shit, it’ll be eating your pussy, like I should have that night.” He murmurs, and soon he’s kissing you, hungry, desperate, hands touching every inch of you he can. “Love you, brat. Always have.”
“Sukuna…”
“Shh.” He turns you then, unzipping your dress, big hands darting across your back, your waist, your hips, turning you then to face him, leaving you in nothing but soaked panties and a lacy bra. “Should’ve told you, I love you. You’re beautiful, so beautiful you fucking wreck me.”
“Kuna…” He’s moaning again, red eyes bright as he rips your bra off, revealing your pretty breasts to his hungry gaze, cupping them, resting his forehead on yours.
“I was a fucking ass to you, a dick. A bully. A shit.”
“Kuna…”
“Shut up. You don’t have to feel the same, it can just be a fuck if you want, I’ll give you anything.” You’re whimpering, when he’s kneeling, just like that night, his breath hot against your inner thigh, when he runs calloused fingers down your soft skin, eliciting a cry. “I’ll let you fuck my face and thank you, make me so pathetic.”
“Sukuna!” You shout finally, yanking at his hair, pulling his head back to look at you, and he exhales now.
“Yeah?”
“I love you too, you idiot.” He pauses, heart slamming in his chest, and you just nod weakly, tears pouring down your cheeks. “I’ve always loved you, mean ass.”
“Fuck…” He rips your panties off.
“They’re expensive!”
“I’ll buy you all the ones you want, slutty fucking brat. Put this pretty pussy on my goddamn face, now.” He orders, lifting a thigh, swiping a stripe up your slit with the flat of his tongue, making you scream out, head falling back against the window he’s so shamelessly eating you out against. “Taste so goddamn good, fuck you.”
“F-fuck you, Kuna… just… will you… ah!” He smacks your pussy then, glaring up at you, as you manage a little pathetic scowl.
“Shut it brat, now. Lemme take my time, shit.” He’s back down there, parting your plump lips, dying at just how pretty your pussy is, how the wetness is just oozing. He sips up the syrupy wetness with the tip of his tongue, moaning at your taste, before slipping up to your clit, slowly circling.
“Mnph!” You’re barely able to make a noise, when Sukuna buries his face against you, nose bumping your little twitchy clit, tongue slipping up into your hole, as his hands squish your thighs, pinning you in place. “Ah!”
You feel that grin against you as he sips you up, drinking you, youre eyes are rolling, back, fucking toes curling as he nips your clit then with his sharp teeth, eliciting a slutty moan from your throat. “That’s it, cum all over m’face, slutty lil fuckin brat.”
You can’t even retort, you can’t function when his tongue is flicking the underside of your clit, and he’s watching you with those bright red eyes under those pastel lashes, working you so well you can barely stand. You’re gasping, gripping his hair so hard you’re pulling it, only making his cock harder for you, your eyes shut when you earn another wet smack on your cunt.
“Ah-ah,look at me when I’m eating you out, brat. I wanna see you fall apart f’me, just me, only me.” Sukuna’s possessive words and another smack earn you looking down at him, eyes locking with his. “Ha, that’s it.”
His tongue is flicking and pressing against your clit, when he curls two fingers up inside your gummy walls, cum drooling down his black painted nails, all the way to his rolex watch, cold against your heated skin as he pumps and pumps. “M’gonna… oh my g-god…”
“That’s it, cum like a pretty lil’ fuckin whore, hmm? Just f’me.” He orders, filthy words spitting from his mouth when he curls his fingers just so inside your soppy little cunt, and you shatter then as he works you like he’s always known you, sucking your little clit in his hot mouth.
“Kuna!” You scream out his name as you come, thighs trembling around his neck, eyes rolling back in your skull, panting when he fucks you with his fingers even faster, pushing you from one orgasm into another. “Too much!”
He doesn’t relent, he’s fingering and devouring you simultaneously until you’re a weak, pathetic mess, sweat making your hair stick to your brow, you’re trembling and shaking as it makes you see stars. You’re not even holding yourself up anymore, he’s got an arm around your hips, moaning against you.
“Sukuna, I l-love you.” You mumble weakly, and he chuckles, tickling your oversensive cunt.
“I know you do, baby.” He whispers back, kissing your inner thigh, licking your pussy clean of all your cum before he stands, and you’re taking off his dress shirt with shaky fingers, so shaky he smacks at them. “Can’t even function huh?”
“F-fuck off…” You can’t function, though, you can’t form a coherent thought in an already fucked out brain as he rips off that damn shirt, showing a buff, perfect body, littered in new tattoos you haven’t even seen. He’s quick to get naked, and pick you right up in his arms like you’re nothing. “H-here!?”
“Everyone already got a show.” He smirks, tip nudging your soppy entrance, you’re shivering as you cling to his shoulders, whining desperately. “Wanna give em a better show? Want everyone to see you dripping my cum?”
“Yes.” At your husky admission he grins.
“Slutty little brat. Oh my… fuck…” He can’t take it, when he starts to press inside you, and you’re screaming out at the stretch, as he feels your slick cunt grip him like a vise. “You’re s-so f-fucking…”
“Fuck me, please, please.” You beg, tears in your eyes now, and Sukuna won’t deny you shit, not when you’re begging so pretty, no he fucks into you, hard, thrusting his cock so deep his tip kisses your cervix. “Oh my god.”
“Oh my god.” He moans right with you, exhaling as he looks into your glassy, dilated eyes, so dilated all he sees are the outer rings of your irises when he sinks so deep in your eager pussy. “Ya feel like this, the whole time could’ve been putting babies in this?”
“Kuna!? The f- y-yes! Yes!” You’re screaming as he pounds his cock, so thick it’s stretching you out so hard it hurts, it burns, wearing you down with each pump, the sounds of your slutty cunt echoing in his immaculate fucking penthouse. You’re cumming before he can play with your clit, something that’s never happened, he hits so hard you don’t even need it.
When you cum, pulsing all around him he tenses, pulling then, setting you on the floor and turning you, pressing your tits against the glass as he bends down, lifting your ass up and fucking into you, your hands leaving prints on spotless glass. He’s moaning as his muscles flex, as he pumps his thick, long cock so deep, and you’re throwing your head back, screaming.
“That’s it, again baby, lemme feel your slutty fucking cunt grip me.” He huffs, leaning over the glass and fucking into you, two hands gripping your hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples of your back, as he rails you harder and harder. You’re gasping, twitching, unable to even stand, practically falling on the glass overlooking the night sky.
When Sukuna’s gotten another orgasm, he pulls out again, carrying you like you’re nothing until you’re in his bed, and he’s climbing on top of you, so intimate in this moment, cock drooling with your drippy wetness. He’s entwining a hand with yours, the other grabbing his cock, putting it back inside, your already sore little hole, and you gasp, clinging to him.
“S’good… s’good I…” You can’t form a word, when he’s pressing your thighs up higher and higher, watching the bulge in your tummy at his huge cock wrecking you, making him harder, his precum pouring, cock twitching.
“That’s it, cunt screamin’ just f’me, fuckin’ hear it huh?” Sukuna whispers, eyes and face practically feral, fucking you harder, deeper, as he presses your thighs until you’re folded in half under him. “Answer me, huh? Too fucked out?”
“F-fuck… y-you… K-Kuna you- yes!” You’re whimpering out when he pounds his cock even deeper, and you hear it, the squelching wetness of your soaking cunt, the slap of his balls on your ass, as his face drips sweat right down onto your own, and you’re crying it feels so good.
“Crying sexy!? Is anything ya do not sexy… slutty brat… swear I’ll ruin you for fuckin anyone, yeah?” You just nod weakly, sniffling when Sukuna cups your face between his huge hands, pounding deeper and deeper in your hole, and he’s finally slowing, laughing. “Milking me?”
“Whass that… Kuna…” Your words are jumbled as the man you’ve loved forever beats your poor little cunt up, as he fucks velvety walls until they’re aching, rubbing your walls so good, hitting just that fucking spot, over and over, ridge of that drooly tip sending you.
“That’s it, can’t help yourself, can you? So pathetic, c-can’t stop cummin…” He’s huffing now, leaning over you, so big and strong you feel so damn tiny under him, his power, the way he moves, the way he fucks you like he owns your pussy.
“Ngh…” You can’t speak anymore, it’s all sounds, whines, whimpers.
“Gonna fill this pussy up, gonna be dripping me for days huh? Want me to, don’t ya brat?” He holds your thighs up so high you could hardly breathe, as he works your cunt harder, grinding against you when his tip bruises your cervix. “Answer me, now, use those words.”
“Fill me, please.” You whisper, and he moans, smirking then, leaning so that his lips are a breath away.
“Want me to breed that slutty pussy?”
“Yes.” Sukuna folds then, busting so deep in your cunt, filling you to the brim with his endless spurts of hot cum, until you can’t stand it, so hot and full, you feel Sukuna fucking everywhere. He’s still pumping now, kissing you, moaning his pleasure as your thighs shake against him.
“That’s it, taking it so good aren’t ya baby? Cunt so eager. Slutty.” You just nod weakly, and he laughs. “That's how I shut you up? Could have been doing it.”
“You love my mouth.” You counter, earning his chuckle, when he finally eases your thighs down, kissing you just a bit softer, your nails that have been pressing and leaving marks on his back relaxes now, as you both breathe together, slower and slower.
“I do love it.”
“You love me.”
“Don’t get too annoying about it.” You giggle, and he adores the way your nose scrunches. “Fucking cute.”
“Yeah?” He nods, finally admitting it, what’s been in his heart so long he doesn’t know how he handled it, the lightness he feels of you knowing is so amazing he can’t put it in words.
“Yeah.” Is all he says for now, kissing you again. Soon he’s in the shower with you, ‘cleaning’ you, as he’s drinking your pussy right up on his knees, as the hot spray falls down.
Then, Sukuna is fucking you right on his shower wall, and you’re clinging to him desperately, as his cock works you in ways you could have never known. “Gonna forget anything, anyone, just me, brat.” He huffs in your ear.
Later, it’s no longer Valentine’s day, shit it’s maybe three am? But Sukuna isn’t done with your pussy, no he’s far from it, having you on your hands and knees on his bed as he fucks you, slapping your ass over and over, leaving hand prints. Then he’s prone bone over you, wrapping long fingers around your throat, squeezing as you gasp and cum all over his cock.
“Put a fuckin baby in ya, huh? Want that, don’t ya?” He’s huffing that morning, not like either of you have slept, and he’s laying behind you, you were supposed to cuddle but Sukuna has catching up to do with you, so he’s cradling you, fucking you with your one leg up over his thigh.
“Want it… want it…” You’re throwing your head back, while he’s fucking one load of cum out and pumping more into you, until you’re a sobbing mess, and Sukuna could still go, but you’re passing out, weak and snuggling him.
“You’re so… beautiful.” He whispers as you snore lightly, before rolling his eyes. “And annoying.”
“Hmm.” You mumble, when he shoves at you, and your eyes adjust to the man you’ve always loved, smiling just a little soft for a moment. “You love me.”
“Shut it brat. Stop snoring or I’ll kick you out.” You just giggle, kissing him.
“Shh. Love you Kuna.” You murmur, falling asleep on his chest, feeling for the first time in forever like the puzzle pieces have fallen together, and Sukuna watches you until his heavy eyes knock him out with you, snoring even louder than you. When you wake to him eating your pussy, all puffy and sore, you wonder just what you’re in for.
“Taste us, fuck.” He drinks you up, leaning over, spitting in your mouth then, you gasp at it, at his insane grin. “Taste s’yummy, huh?”
“How about g’morning, hmm?” You manage, coughing just a bit, and he’s nudging his broad shoulders back between your thighs.
“Nah, fuck that.” He buries his face against your pussy, your hands entangling in his messy locks, back arching.
“Please.” You whisper, soon he’s working over you, hand wrapping your throat, as he shoves that thick cock in your sore little pussy over and over, until you’re both losing the day in each other.
And that was the last time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, but this time it worked, and you felt the same the entire time
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I KNOW IM YOUR FAVORITE, gojo satoru ཐི♡ཋྀ
ᖭི༏ᖫྀ in which: he may be your ex, but that doesn’t mean you can just move on.
ᖭི༏ᖫྀ wc: 2.9k words.
ᖭི༏ᖫྀ warnings: lots of angst, dark content (not really), sexual content, pussy!drunk gojo, stalker!gojo, heavy possessiveness, mentions of violence, pet names, daddy kink, heavy breeding kink, baby trapping (but y/n wants it), gojo sucks ur feet for literally 1 second, yandere gojo (ehh), cunnilingus, overstimulation, toxic!gojo (barely), ex!gojo, and etc.
ᖭི༏ᖫྀ notes: okay look this shit is very freaky, and it’s loosely based on the song hold me down by daniel caesar! and gojo is a stalker y’all, this is your only warning babes.. please leave now if you’re uncomfy! he is kinda crazy in this but in a lovingly way.. y’know? not proofread either so not too much on me!
when you walked into your apartment you couldn’t help the exaggerated giggles you let out. it was embarrassing actually, acting like a school girl in junior high all over again. the reason for your happiness was pretty simple— you just had your first date.
your first date since you broke up with your ex, gojo.
that was about a year ago now.. a year since you and the love of your life parted ways. up until recently you’ve never had the guts to put yourself out there again, always scared that one day you’ll just end up hurt again.
but your whole view on dating changed when you met this guy at a grocery store. he offered to pay for your entire cart, and it was well over $300 worth. you found the gesture sweet, and from there you two exchanged numbers.
he was no gojo of course, but you had to move on at some point. it’s already been a year, if gojo didn’t reach out yet, then maybe that meant he’d moved on too.
well.. so you thought.
you were so caught up in the excitement from how well your date went, you barely even realized you were still in pitch black.
“fuck i got so distracted i forgot to turn the lights on.” you chuckled to yourself, flipping the light switch on and hanging your purse on the door.
you didn’t know why but you had a feeling you weren’t alone, like someone was watching you— or better yet breathing right down your neck.
the house was eerily quiet, so quiet you could hear the drop of a pen. but something felt off about your apartment, and you were never one to ignore your instincts.
just as you were about to retreat and run out the door, a familiar voice had you stopping in your tracks.
no. fucking. way.
“where were you?” the achingly familiar man smiled, trying his best to hide the dangerous aura oozing from his body. he knew exactly where you were, and always have. you didn’t know it yet— but he’d been watching you for a while now. ever since you dumped him which was more than a year ago now.
technically it was stalking.. but he didn’t like to call it that. in his mind, he was more of a guardian angel— just making sure you’re okay and still breathing.
how else would he check on you since you blocked him on everything else?
the white haired man was sitting on your couch with his head tilted— clearly waiting for an answer although he already knew where you were to begin with. it was pretty easy to keep tabs on you.
you stared at him, a small frown forming across your face. you were feeling weak in the knees. the first thing you wanted to do was jump on him and tell him how much you missed him.
but you knew you couldn’t do that, not anymore. the two of you just didn’t go together, or at least that’s how you felt a year ago. you couldn’t get back with him, you wouldn’t. no matter how much it hurt.. it was better than dealing with his unstability.
“what are you doing in my house, gojo?” you folded your arms— staring back at him with the same expression he was giving you. that’s what he loved about you, you weren’t easy.
with the blink of an eye, he was up from the couch and coming closer towards you. the man easily towered over you so to say he was intimidating was an understatement.
instead of answering your question he just stared at you with a blank expression— and you did the same exact thing. this was common with you two, just staring at each other in silence until one of you dared to speak up.
about five minutes later, gojo finally cracked. you silently praised yourself for being able to last longer than him.
with a low chuckle, he shook his head— slightly licking over his lips. “i think im the one asking the questions here, hm? so answer me.”
you scoffed at his arrogance, seems like some things just never change. “i was on a date if you must know, now get the hell out of my house.”
as soon as you got your words out he couldn’t help but to laugh. honestly, gojo didn’t even know what was so funny, maybe it was the way you said it.. you really thought you held some type of authority?
“and now you’re laughing at me? what’s so funny?”
that only made him laugh more, truth be told gojo wasn’t even trying to laugh, but you trying to be somewhat “mean” was taking him out because you were nothing like that.
you were one of the kindest people he’d ever met, so this little act you had on was amusing to him.
“shit, im sorry!” he clutched his stomach, letting one last chuckle out before continuing. “it’s just.. you really think im falling for this little act of yours?”
your face was quick to scrunch up— finding every bit of his words disrespectful. but it was gojo, so what could you really expect? his bluntness would probably be the death of him.
“excuse me? need i remind you, we are not together anymore gojo!” your voice came out a lot shakier than you’d hoped for it to. what the hell was going on with you?
“well clearly i know that, or else i’d go and kill that fucker you were out with tonight.”
throwing your hands in the air you muttered a strand of curse words, it’s impossible to get through to someone as hard-headed as him. “please just see yourself out.”
before he could respond, you walked off toward your room. you didn’t have the energy to deal with him or his childish antics, he’d already managed to ruin your entire mood. all this did was remind you why you keep your heart locked away— because of arrogant assholes like him.
“there’s no need to be rude, y’know? i just wanna talk to my favorite girl.” gojo followed you to your room— just like you knew he would. god, he’s so annoying.
it looked the exact same as the last time he was here except for the empty wall where the pictures of him used to hang. he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his chest heavy, and heart pang in sorrow. could you really have been done with him for good this time?
“whatever, just don’t get on my bed.. i don’t know where you’ve been.”
‘stalking you’ he chuckled to himself before completely disregarding your request, and plopping down on your bed anyways.
you decided not to scold him for doing exactly what you said not to do. that’s just who gojo was, no one could boss a man like him around.
you weren’t even being serious either. in hindsight, you really did enjoy having him around. as much as you hated to admit it.. it reminded you of the old times, when it was just you and him against the whole world.
“i missed you, y’know? you just up and left without a word.. and next thing i know im blocked.” even though he tried to hide it you could hear the pain in his voice. losing you was like losing a piece of him too, he couldn’t stand it. he couldn’t stand the way you made him feel.
the only reason the man was able to keep it together was because he was watching you, ensuring you weren’t completely out of his life.
it sounded crazy. hell— it was crazy, but when it came to you he’d do anything.
“i know.. & im sorry for the way i handled that. i just felt like we needed to move on, try new things…”
“i don’t want to try new things!” he scowled, quickly sitting up from the bed to face you. “i want you.. just you. that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”
the air was thick, and the room felt like it was caving in. your body was practically on fire listening to him say the words you’d been craving to hear.
“and about that date of yours..” he cooed, running his hands up your thighs and slowly spreading them. “we won’t be worrying about him anymore, will we?”
that little date was never a threat to gojo to begin with. both you and him knew that, but he took manners into his own hands just to mark his territory.
gojo made sure to corner the poor guy as soon as your date was over, and needless to say.. a few threats were all it took. you should be happy he didn’t do worse, it ran across his mind to kill the poor guy at first.
“i..if we do this then no more bullshit okay?” your soft hands gripped his chin as you forced his beautiful blue eyes to meet yours. “none of that childish stuff this time. we’re both grown so we need to act like it, we’ve had a whole year to fix ourselves.”
every time the two of you got back together it turned into complete chaos. gojo wasn’t the best man out there, and you weren’t the best woman. both of you had your own flaws regardless, but you two needed each other.
that was well established the first 10 times you guys broke up, and unsurprisingly you always ended up back in each other’s skin.
gojo’s gaze on you was heavy, almost as if he was trying to study your every breath and blink. all of the dumb, childish expressions on his face from before were far gone.
“yes princess, whatever you want.” he softly spoke as he sunk his head into the skin of your stomach, littering you with soft kisses. “i’ll do whatever you want..”
gojo spoke so gently— his voice softer than ever as he pushed you on your back, wrapping your legs around his shoulders.
you stared at him intently, waiting to see what he would do next. one thing about gojo was he always had something up his sleeve, and part of you knew where this was headed.
when his rough hands gripped the waistband of your flimsy skirt, you didn’t complain. actually you found yourself wanting more, longing for more.
“y’gonna let me get a taste baby? missed her s’much,” soft lips trailed up your thigh— leaving small bite imprints on the flesh. this was his way of staking his claim on you, marking you as his and only his.
you couldn’t stop the shaky sigh that fell from your lips, or the silent nod you gave to your ex-boyfriend for him to continue.
the grin that spread across his face was taunting almost, and intimidating. when that skirt of yours was out of the way, gojo moved on to the black-lace panties. his personal favorite.
“so what, you wearin’ these for other people now?” the fucking nerve of you, he couldn’t believe this. to stoop that low.. well that just won’t do. it seems like he had a few things to correct now that he was back. “fuckin’ answer me. be a good girl for me, yeah?”
your eyes locked with his and all you saw was silent fury, you could tell he was pissed. “not wearing them for anybody toru. just didn’t have any clean ones,”
a lazy grin covered his face at the remembrance of his old nickname, the way it fell from your lips so softly always managed to send heat straight to his dick.
he finally got his girl back.
faint kisses to your cunt had your legs shaking in anticipation— and the soft gasp that left your lips did nothing but egg gojo on as his tongue met your aching clit.
“pussy’s still fuckin’ pretty as ever,” with a low voice his eyes were closed shut, in hopes to savor every last bit of you. when his hands came up to your thighs he couldn’t resist the urge to spread them even further.
the man wanted to explore every inch of you since it’s been so long. so so long since he’s spent some personal time with that pretty pussy of yours.
“w..wait- fuck toru!” you whined when his lips found their way to your pulsing clit, folding his tongue up and down the gooey slit.
his assault to your pussy didn’t stop there. next his thumb was sliding down your sticky folds, not stopping until it was past your tight walls.
your mouth fell open at the intrusion. his thumb wasn’t long but it was thick, causing a bigger stretch than you’d expected.
“so good. taste’s s’good princess,” gojo mindlessly babbled, every word sending vibrations straight to your pussy.
gojo felt like he was out of his body. out of his mind, and he hadn’t even been inside you yet. just what the fuck were you doing to him?
finally fed up with the throbbing ache in his pants he latched onto your clit for a third time, giving it one last kiss before pulling away.
the man couldn’t wait any longer— he needed to be inside you, and he needed it now. before you knew it he was sliding off his sweats and everything underneath it, leaving him completely exposed.
your pussy throbbed just from the sight of him.. you didn’t know how much longer you could wait either.
“don’t worry mama, im ready for ya’.” a low chuckle left his throat when he saw you were just as desperate as him. “you ready for me?”
his blue eyes met your low ones when he slapped his tip against your folds. next he was sliding inside of your pulsing hole with ease, forcing your mouth open.
“o..oh my gosh!“ you winced at the familiar stretch, your walls involuntarily clenched around his dick— trying to push him out.
“n..no- fuck. none of that, y’hear me?” gojo whimpered at the feel of being squeezed, he couldn’t even move you were squeezing him so tight.
the man hovered over you, lips grazing your ear as he coaxed you. “let me in baby, you can do it. i know you can,” he whispered, wrapping his hand around your neck and resting it there.
his words of encouragement had you opening up quicker than he expected, and with every second he was inching deeper into your pussy. gojo felt like he was in a dream— or better yet, on cloud 9. after all that time you still feel the exact same, heavenly.
his strokes were gentle at first, but they sped up when he realized how long he was away from you. a whole year.. never again.
“n..never ever gonna let you keep this shit from me again.” gojo groaned with an edge in his voice that you couldn’t recognize.
your shaky hands wasted no time sliding under his shirt, feeling on the happy trail that covered his v-line. “not gonna take it away toru, ‘s all yours!”
gojo grinned at your words as he pressed onto your lower stomach. with his free hand he gripped onto the back of your thighs and brung your freshly done feet up to his mouth.
his lips wrapped around your toe— eyes locking with yours as he sucked on it. his strokes only got deeper, and you whimpered at all the different sensations at once.
“‘m not gonna pull out,” he admitted as he switched from sucking to leaving small kisses on your foot. “gonna cum so deep in this pretty pussy. never gonna leave me again.”
you were so out of it. drool everywhere, hair messy, tear stained cheeks.. anything gojo said went in one ear and out the other. the man could do whatever, you didn’t care.
“mm yes, don’t pull out. want it s’bad, fill me up please!” small whines filled your throat when you felt a familiar pressure in your abdomen, your pussy wrapping around him even tighter than before. how was this even possible?
gojo’s pace got faster, strokes sloppier.. he was slowly but surely losing all the sense of control he once had before. “f..fuckk ‘m gonna cum toru, so close!”
you gasped when his thumb flicked your clit, looking up at the blue eyes that never left your frame. your legs shook in overstimulation and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold it in.
“let it out mama, you’re okay. gimme all of it- shit.” he hissed as his dick twitched at how tight you were squeezing. “fuck fuck fuck, you’re gonna be such a pretty mama. s..such a pretty wifey, all f’me.”
you threw your head back as chills covered your entire body. the both of you were completely out of touch with reality, not caring about anything but the feeling of one another.
“‘m cumming toru! mhmm ‘m cumming,” you exclaimed, bringing your hand to his stomach. it wasn’t long before the built-up pit in your stomach finally snapped, coating his dick in a ring of your juices.
gojo was close behind you, a whimpering mess as his stomach tightened. before he knew it he was filling you up— spilling his load inside of you, not a drop to be wasted.
“f..fuck yeah. take it mama, it’s all yours. all for you.. gotta give you everything.” he chanted praises as he gave you one last stroke, pushing his cum even deeper into you where it belonged.
your voice was shaky when he called you, so shaky that at first you thought you wouldn’t be able to respond. but even so, you did.
“you’re never leaving me again, understand?” the edge in his voice was back, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach do flips.
“yes toru, i understand.”
if there’s anything you learned from this at all.. it’s that you could never leave a man like gojo satoru.
©rissouu 2025 (this one’s for dulce y’all so thank her, it took me forever *sigh*)
#malora’s works!#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen one shot#gojo one shot#gojo smut#jjk smut#jjk fluff#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen angst#ex!gojo satoru#yandere!gojo satoru#gojo satoru x you#jjk x self insert#gojo satoru x reader smut#satoru gojo x reader smut#gojo#satoru gojo#jjk
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It’s You
Where Y/N’s chaotic energy clashes with her grumpy, tattooed neighbor, her mission to get on his good side turns into stolen glances, quiet moments, and a connection she never expected.
Au Harry
Word count: 13,395
Content warning: Cursing, smut, alcohol.
The warm glow of string lights illuminated Y/N’s cozy Los Angeles apartment as the sound of laughter filled the air. The small space was a mix of bohemian chic and personal touches—a gallery wall of polaroids, a cluttered coffee table covered with open bags of snacks, and a few empty wine bottles standing like trophies from their earlier indulgence.
Y/N flopped back onto the couch, a glass of red wine in hand, her cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and nonstop giggling. Her two best friends, Harper and Lila, sat cross-legged on the floor, snacking on popcorn and chips, fully embracing the childlike joy of their adult sleepover.
“This feels so right,” Y/N said, her voice slightly tipsy. “Why don’t we do this more often?”
“Because we’re responsible adults now, remember?” Harper teased, adjusting her oversized hoodie. “Nine-to-five, bills, and pretending we know what we’re doing.”
“Speak for yourself,” Lila quipped, popping a gummy bear into her mouth. “I’m thriving in my chaos era.”
Y/N snorted, and Harper rolled her eyes with an affectionate grin. Lila was the wild card of the group, always coming up with unpredictable ideas. And she didn’t disappoint tonight.
“You know what we should do?” Lila suddenly said, sitting up straighter. “Karaoke.”
“Yes!” Harper exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Oh my God, yes. Do you still have that mic we bought for New Year’s Eve?”
Y/N groaned dramatically, but her smile betrayed her fake reluctance. “You mean the mic that nearly got us evicted? Of course, I still have it.”
Lila grinned wickedly. “Perfect. Let’s wake up the entire building with our stunning renditions of 2000s throwbacks.”
Without waiting for further approval, Lila dashed to the hall closet and pulled out the karaoke mic, triumphantly waving it in the air. Harper grabbed her phone, already scrolling through a playlist.
“You’re starting,” Harper declared, pointing the mic at Y/N.
“What? No!” Y/N laughed, holding her hands up defensively. “I’m not ready!”
“Too bad,” Lila said, shoving the mic into Y/N’s hands. “You can’t escape destiny. Pick your song.”
Y/N sighed theatrically before smirking. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when your ears bleed.”
As Y/N queued up Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson, the room erupted in cheers. The first few notes played, and soon enough, Y/N was belting out the lyrics with unrestrained enthusiasm, her friends joining in for the chorus. It didn’t matter that they were slightly off-key; in that moment, they were superstars in their own private concert.
Wine glasses were forgotten, snacks spilled, and every lyric was sung at full volume. It was the kind of night they’d remember for years—a reminder that no matter how grown-up they pretended to be, some things never lost their magic.
The girls were in full swing, harmonizing (poorly) to “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. Lila stood on the couch holding the mic as if she were performing at Madison Square Garden, while Harper played air guitar with a half-empty wine bottle. Y/N was doubled over in laughter, her cheeks aching from smiling so much.
Just as they hit the iconic, “Tell me why—” part, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, cutting through their drunken fun like a record scratch. The girls froze, their voices trailing off mid-note. Y/N straightened up, exchanging wide-eyed looks with Harper and Lila.
“Uh… did someone order pizza?” Lila whispered, her voice unsure.
“Nope,” Y/N said, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”
With a mix of nerves and annoyance, Y/N padded to the door. She peered through the peephole and groaned. It was her new neighbor, Harry. She’d only exchanged a polite “hello” with him in passing, but he’d already struck her as the brooding, grumpy type.
Bracing herself, she opened the door.
There he stood: tall, disheveled hair pushed back in a lazy attempt at taming it, wearing a faded gray hoodie and black joggers. His sharp green eyes narrowed as he took in her flushed face and the muffled chaos behind her.
“Good evening,” he started, his British accent dripping with sarcasm. “I just wanted to say how much I’ve been enjoying your concert tonight. It’s like living next door to a live music venue. Only… worse.”
Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned by his dry humor. “Oh. Uh, sorry about that. We didn’t realize how loud we were being.”
Harry crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I figured. Thought I’d come over before I lost the ability to hear entirely.”
From behind her, Lila’s voice chimed in drunkenly. “Is it a noise complaint? Tell him to sing with us!”
Y/N turned and shot Lila a glare. Harper muffled a laugh.
Y/N sighed and looked back at Harry. “We’ll keep it down. Promise.”
He tilted his head, lips twitching into the faintest smirk, though his tone remained gruff. “Appreciated. Just… try not to turn it into a full-on festival.”
With that, he turned to leave, but Y/N couldn’t help herself. “You know, you could’ve just sent a passive-aggressive text or something.”
Harry glanced back over his shoulder, one brow arched. “I thought this had more impact.”
And then he was gone.
Y/N closed the door, leaning her forehead against it for a moment. When she turned around, Lila and Harper were staring at her like she’d just walked off the set of a rom-com.
“Um, who was that?” Lila asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Harry. My new neighbor,” Y/N replied, walking back to the couch.
“And Mr. Grumpy Pants is cute,” Harper added, grinning.
Y/N rolled her eyes, picking up her wine glass. “Yeah, yeah. He’s cute and cranky. Now can we please move on before you two start planning a love story?”
But the mischievous glint in her friends’ eyes told her they weren’t letting this go anytime soon.
The karaoke mic had been put away, and the girls now lounged in the cozy living room, passing a bottle of wine between them. The earlier buzz of excitement had mellowed, but the energy was still warm and lively. Lila was sprawled on the couch with her legs dangling over Harper’s lap, while Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping from her glass.
“I mean, let’s just talk about him for a second,” Lila began, her voice dramatic. “The mopey neighbor with the accent? And did you see those tattoos? They were peeking out, Y/N. He’s giving mysterious bad boy energy.”
Y/N groaned, her cheeks warming instantly. “Oh my God, Lila. He was literally just here to tell us to shut up.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not hot,” Harper chimed in, grinning. “He has that whole ‘I’m grumpy but secretly charming’ vibe. Like, did you see the way he smirked when he made that little joke?”
Y/N tried to hide her flustered reaction by taking another sip of wine, but she couldn’t stop the blush creeping up her neck. She’d noticed too—his smirk, his sharp jawline, the tattoos curling up his forearm, just barely visible under his hoodie sleeves. She’d noticed everything.
“I mean, he’s okay, I guess,” Y/N mumbled, keeping her tone nonchalant.
“Okay?” Lila shot up, nearly spilling her wine. “You’re lying. You’re the worst liar ever.”
“Shut up,” Y/N said, laughing as she buried her face in her hands. “Fine, he’s cute. So what? He’s also my neighbor, and he’s probably annoyed with me forever now.”
“He’s not annoyed,” Harper said, nudging her with her foot. “If he were, he wouldn’t have made the effort to come over himself. He would’ve sent an email to management or something. He wanted an excuse to see you.”
“Right,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “Because nothing’s more attractive than a drunk girl singing Backstreet Boys at full volume.”
“Exactly!” Lila exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “You’re memorable. He’ll never forget you now.”
Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You two are ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” Harper said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But I bet he thinks you’re cute too.”
Y/N’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she quickly changed the subject. But as the night went on, she couldn’t shake the image of Harry standing in her doorway, his messy hair, his smirk, and those tattoos. Maybe her friends weren’t entirely wrong.
The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of Y/N’s apartment, illuminating the chaos left behind from the night before. Wine glasses, half-eaten snacks, and the abandoned karaoke mic were scattered around the living room. The girls were tangled up in blankets, sprawled across the couch and the floor like a scene from a sitcom.
Y/N was the first to stir, groaning as she rubbed her eyes and sat up. Harper was curled up on the couch with a throw pillow over her head, while Lila lay on the floor in a makeshift nest of cushions, one arm dramatically draped over her face.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Y/N teased, nudging Lila with her foot.
Lila groaned. “Why are you awake? It’s illegal to be this alive right now.”
Harper peeked out from under her pillow, her voice muffled. “What time is it? Do we even have the energy to exist today?”
“Barely,” Y/N replied, standing and stretching. “But I’m starving, so I’m making breakfast. Come help me.”
Harper and Lila grumbled but eventually dragged themselves up and into the kitchen, where Y/N was already cracking eggs into a bowl. Together, they whipped up a chaotic but delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and a mountain of coffee.
The girls sat around the small dining table, eating in comfortable silence at first. Then Lila broke the quiet with a wicked grin.
“So… Harry.”
“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, covering her face. “Not again.”
“Listen, I was just thinking,” Lila said, smirking. “Next time we do this, we should make it even louder. Really make him come back over.”
Harper snorted into her coffee. “Yes! Like, full-blown karaoke night but with amps and disco lights.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “You two are the worst.”
“But you love us,” Harper said, nudging her with an elbow.
After breakfast, the girls cleaned up and packed their things before heading out. Harper hugged Y/N tightly. “We definitely need to do this again.”
Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Louder next time. You know, for research purposes.”
Y/N shook her head, laughing as she walked them to the door. “You’re both insane, but I love you. Drive safe.”
Once they were gone, Y/N flopped onto the couch and opened their group chat. Almost immediately, messages started flooding in.
Lila: Next sleepover, let’s bring a fog machine. If Harry shows up, we’ll just act like it’s a concert.
Harper: Or we could rent a spotlight. Make it an event
Y/N: You guys are unbelievable. No more wine for you next time.
Lila: Admit it, you want him to show up again.
Y/N: …maybe.
Harper: KNEW IT.
Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her phone, her cheeks warming yet again. As ridiculous as her friends were, they weren’t entirely wrong.
The day passed in a blur of cleaning and tidying as Y/N tried to get her apartment back to its usual organized state. By the time the sun started to dip low in the sky, the chaos from the night before had been erased, leaving her apartment looking like a picture of calm domesticity. Feeling accomplished, Y/N decided to check her mailbox before settling in for a quiet evening.
She padded down to the mailroom in her building, dressed in a casual but presentable outfit—high-waisted jeans and a simple white top. As she rifled through the usual junk mail and a couple of bills, the sound of someone entering the room caught her attention.
Glancing to the side, she saw Harry walking in, his hoodie replaced by a fitted black t-shirt and dark jeans. His tattoos were on full display now—intricate designs that wound up his forearm and disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt. He barely glanced at her as he moved to his mailbox, unlocking it with practiced ease.
Y/N swallowed her nerves and decided to seize the moment. It was better to make a proper introduction now than to let the awkwardness from last night linger. Turning slightly toward him, she cleared her throat.
“Hey, neighbor,” she began, keeping her tone light. “Figured I should introduce myself officially now that I’m not, you know, half-drunk and screaming karaoke at midnight. I’m Y/N.”
Harry turned his head, his green eyes locking onto hers. His expression was neutral, almost unreadable, as he gave her a quick once-over. “Harry,” he said simply, his voice low and clipped.
Y/N bit back a grin, determined not to let his gruff demeanor throw her off. “Nice to meet you, Harry. Sorry again about last night. I promise we don’t usually host impromptu concerts. Unless, of course, you’re a fan of boy band throwbacks.”
Harry let out a soft exhale that could’ve been a laugh—or just a sigh. “I’ll survive.”
Encouraged by the hint of amusement, Y/N decided to keep the conversation going. “You know, if you’re ever feeling nostalgic, you’re welcome to join us. We could use a fourth member for our extremely off-key girl group.”
Harry’s lips twitched slightly, but his expression remained mostly stoic. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Y/N tilted her head, giving him a mock-serious look. “You’re really hard to read, you know that? Most people at least chuckle at my jokes.”
Harry glanced at her, his gaze steady and calm. “Maybe I’m just not most people.”
For a moment, Y/N didn’t know how to respond. There was something almost challenging in his tone, but it wasn’t harsh. If anything, it piqued her curiosity even more.
“Well, Harry,” she said finally, flashing him a bright smile. “Challenge accepted. I’ll make you laugh one of these days.”
He didn’t respond right away, instead closing his mailbox and tucking the letters under his arm. As he moved to leave, he paused, looking over his shoulder.
“We’ll see about that.”
And just like that, he was gone, leaving Y/N standing there with her stack of mail and a strange mix of frustration and intrigue swirling in her chest. One thing was for sure—Harry might be grumpy, but he was far from boring.
As soon as Y/N got back to her apartment, she tossed her mail onto the counter and grabbed her phone, already smirking to herself. She opened the group chat with Harper and Lila, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
Y/N:
Guess who I just ran into in the mailroom?
It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with replies.
Lila:
Was it… oh, I don’t know… Mr. Grumpy Hot Neighbor?
Harper:
Harry! Tell us everything right now.
Y/N rolled her eyes fondly, typing out her reply.
Y/N:
Yes, it was Harry. I introduced myself properly. You know, as a fully functional adult and not a drunken mess.
Lila:
And? Did he swoon? Did he drop all his mail and propose on the spot?
Harper:
Or at least crack a smile?
Y/N sighed and leaned back against the counter, smirking to herself as she typed.
Y/N:
Absolutely not. He was… well, Harry. Polite but distant. He might’ve almost smiled, but I can’t be sure.
Lila:
Ugh, he’s really sticking to the mysterious moody thing. It’s so hot. What did you say to him?
Y/N:
I told him he was hard to read and said I’d make him laugh one day.
Harper:
Bold move, I love it. What did he say?
Y/N:
He said, ‘We’ll see about that.’
Lila:
STOP. That’s basically flirting.
Harper:
Right? That’s flirty! Subtle, broody flirting.
Y/N:
You two are ridiculous. It wasn’t flirting. He’s just… like that.
Lila:
Y/N, this is your rom-com moment, and you’re living in denial. Grumpy guy + sunshine girl is literally a trope for a reason.
Harper:
Exactly. Next step: get him to join us for karaoke.
Y/N:
Oh, sure, because he definitely seems like the kind of guy who wants to sing ‘Toxic’ with us.
Lila:
You never know. Maybe he has a secret karaoke voice that’ll blow us all away.
Y/N laughed to herself, shaking her head. Her friends were relentless, but she couldn’t deny that their enthusiasm made her smile. As much as she tried to brush off the encounter, she couldn’t stop replaying it in her head—the way Harry’s green eyes lingered just a second too long, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.
It had been a couple of weeks since Y/N’s encounter with Harry in the mailroom, and she’d managed to push him to the back of her mind. Between work, friends, and her usual routine, she hadn’t bumped into him in the halls or around the building. Life went on, and the memory of his grumpy smirk became just another amusing anecdote to share with Harper and Lila.
Until one night.
Y/N was jolted awake by the blaring sound of the fire alarm. Disoriented and groggy, she stumbled out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it over her pajama tank top. She shoved her feet into sneakers, grabbed her phone, and headed for the door. The hallway was chaotic, filled with neighbors in various states of sleepiness and confusion, all heading for the exits.
Once outside, Y/N joined the crowd of residents gathering on the sidewalk. The chilly night air bit at her skin, and she crossed her arms to keep warm. She craned her neck, scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone she knew—until her eyes landed on a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost.
It was Harry. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction, and he wore a hoodie over loose sweatpants. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, which, to be fair, he probably had. His expression was pure exhaustion, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he yawned.
Y/N didn’t hesitate. She made her way over, her footsteps crunching on the gravel. “Hey, neighbor,” she said, coming to a stop next to him.
Harry turned his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he registered her. “Y/N,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “This is… unexpected.” He waved his hand around.
She grinned, shifting her weight to one foot. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. But hey, at least it’s the fire alarms being obnoxiously loud this time and not me.”
Harry’s lips twitched, and for a second, she thought she’d finally gotten him to crack a smile. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he asked dryly.
“Never,” Y/N replied, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’s too good of a story.”
Harry exhaled softly, almost like a laugh, and shook his head. “Fair enough.”
They stood in silence for a moment, watching as a fire truck pulled up and a couple of firefighters headed inside to investigate. The air was crisp and carried a faint chill, but Y/N barely noticed. She glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye.
“Do you think it’s an actual fire?” she asked.
“Doubt it,” he said, crossing his arms. “Probably just someone burning their midnight snack.”
“Sounds like a riveting Saturday night,” Y/N joked, earning another small exhale from him.
“Tell me about it,” he muttered, glancing down at her. His gaze lingered for a moment, and Y/N could feel her cheeks warm, though she tried to play it cool.
“Well,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “If it turns out to be a drill, I’m demanding a formal apology from management for ruining my beauty sleep.”
Harry’s lips quirked, just enough for her to notice. “I’m sure they’ll get right on that.”
For the first time, standing outside in the middle of the night with Harry didn’t feel awkward or forced. It was easy, natural even, despite his perpetually tired and broody demeanor. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation, or maybe her persistence was finally wearing him down.
Before either of them could say more, a firefighter emerged from the building, shouting to the crowd that it was a false alarm. People groaned, some laughing as they shuffled back toward the entrance.
Harry pushed off the lamppost and looked at Y/N. “Guess that’s our cue.”
“Looks like it,” she said. “Catch you later, Harry.”
He nodded, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Night, Y/N.”
As she headed back to her apartment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a small spark of satisfaction. Sure, he was still grumpy, but she was getting closer to breaking through. And honestly, she didn’t mind the challenge.
By the time Y/N woke up the next morning, she had already drafted the text she knew Harper and Lila would demand. Still half-asleep, she grabbed her phone and opened their group chat, typing out the full story in detail.
Y/N:
So… guess who I bumped into at 3 a.m. when the fire alarm went off?
It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with rapid-fire responses.
Harper:
Oh my God. HARRY?
Lila:
Please tell me you were both standing there in your PJs like the meet-cute of the century.
Y/N:
No, it wasn’t a meet-cute. We just talked. Very normal. Nothing groundbreaking.
Harper:
What did you talk about?
Y/N:
I made a joke about how this time it wasn’t me being loud, it was the fire alarm.
Lila:
YES. Classic Y/N. What did he say?
Y/N:
He just… smirked. Or sighed. I’m honestly not sure anymore. He’s so hard to read.
Harper:
Smirking counts as flirting. I’m logging it.
Lila:
Definitely flirting. He wouldn’t have smirked if he wasn’t secretly interested. Men don’t waste smirks on people they don’t like.
Y/N:
Or he was just tired and didn’t care enough to argue.
Harper:
Nope. Not buying it. He’s interested. He’s just grumpy interested.
Lila:
Exactly! Brooding types like him don’t wear their feelings on their sleeves, but trust me, he’s intrigued. You just need to keep working on him.
Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile.
Y/N:
You two are absolutely ridiculous. We talked for five minutes, tops. Nothing more, nothing less.
Harper:
Sure, keep telling yourself that.
Lila:
Face it, Y/N. This is your slow-burn romance, and we are here for it. We’re already planning the playlist for your wedding.
Y/N:
Oh my God. I can’t with you two.
Despite her protests, Y/N couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in her mind—the way his eyes lingered on her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Harper and Lila were reading too much into it… weren’t they?
Shaking her head, Y/N tossed her phone onto the couch. She had no intention of indulging their wild theories. But deep down, a small, stubborn part of her couldn’t help but wonder.
Y/N lay in bed, staring at the faint shadows cast by her bedside lamp on the ceiling. The city sounds outside her window were faint but constant—cars in the distance, the occasional murmur of voices. She’d been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, her brain refusing to shut off.
It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, all she could think about was Harry.
It wasn’t intentional, or at least that’s what she told herself. She’d been trying to push him out of her mind all day, but now, in the stillness of the night, his image seemed to surface unbidden. The way his messy hair stuck out when she’d seen him by the mailboxes. The tattoos peeking out from under his shirt sleeves, the intricate designs winding across his arms like a story she desperately wanted to read.
And then there was his face—sharp jawline, green eyes that seemed to pierce through her defenses, and that faint smirk he’d given her last night when she’d cracked her fire alarm joke. It wasn’t a full smile, but it had been enough to spark something in her. Something she couldn’t quite shake.
She groaned, rolling onto her side and burying her face in her pillow. “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself.
But it was no use. She kept thinking about the way his voice sounded—low, calm, almost soothing in its quiet confidence. The way he seemed perpetually unimpressed but not unkind, like he was holding back a part of himself from the world. And the way, despite all that grumpiness, she felt drawn to him.
The worst part was that she barely even knew him. A few brief encounters, a handful of words exchanged—it wasn’t enough to warrant this level of overthinking. And yet, here she was, wide awake at 2 a.m., her thoughts spinning in circles around a guy who probably wasn’t thinking about her at all.
She sighed, flipping onto her back again and staring at the ceiling. “You’re losing it, Y/N,” she whispered into the dark.
But no matter how hard she tried to distract herself—counting sheep, replaying her favorite movie in her head, anything—her mind kept drifting back to Harry. How frustratingly attractive he was. How much she wanted to figure him out. And how, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she kind of liked the challenge.
The next afternoon, Y/N tied her apron around her waist and stepped onto the floor of the bustling Italian restaurant where she worked. The warm scent of garlic, fresh basil, and baking bread filled the air as the sounds of clinking silverware and cheerful conversations hummed around her. It was her favorite kind of shift—steady but not overwhelming, just busy enough to keep her energized.
She loved being a server. There was something satisfying about knowing the menu by heart, from the way the chef perfectly folded the handmade ravioli to the rich, velvety tiramisu that always left customers raving. She enjoyed the rhythm of it all: taking orders, making guests laugh, weaving between tables like she was part of a well-rehearsed dance.
By the time her shift ended, the sun was low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the city streets. Y/N slipped her bag over her shoulder, said goodbye to her coworkers, and began her short walk home.
The evening was warm, the kind of weather that made her glad she’d chosen this neighborhood to live in. She liked the convenience of being close to work, the charm of the old brick buildings, and the occasional vendor selling flowers or roasted nuts on the sidewalk.
But as she rounded the last corner toward her apartment building, the sky darkened suddenly. Heavy clouds rolled in overhead, and before she could process what was happening, the first fat drops of rain began to fall.
“Seriously?” Y/N muttered, looking up at the sky as if it might offer her an explanation. Within seconds, the light drizzle turned into a full-on downpour. She didn’t have an umbrella, of course—it had been sunny when she left for work—and now she was too far from the restaurant to go back.
She quickened her pace, pulling her bag closer to her body to shield it from the rain. Her hair was already plastered to her forehead, and her clothes clung to her as the rain soaked through. She groaned in frustration but couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.
By the time her apartment building came into view, she was drenched. She jogged the last stretch, her sneakers splashing in puddles, and darted toward the lobby entrance. As she reached for the door, it opened from the inside—and there, standing in the doorway, was Harry.
Of course, it was Harry.
He was holding a takeout bag in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. His green eyes widened slightly when he saw her, taking in her rain-soaked appearance.
“Rough night?” he asked, his voice dry but laced with faint amusement.
Y/N brushed a wet strand of hair out of her face, shaking water from her arms. “You could say that. Apparently, the weather decided I needed a shower.”
Harry stepped back, holding the door open for her. “You’re dripping everywhere.”
“Thanks for the observation,” Y/N said with a wry smile as she stepped inside, water pooling around her feet. “I hadn’t noticed.”
He smirked, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary before he nodded toward the elevators. “You should probably get upstairs before you flood the lobby.”
“Wow, you’re so thoughtful,” she teased, her sarcasm barely masking the warmth in her voice.
Harry didn’t reply, but his lips twitched like he was holding back a comment. He stepped aside, letting her pass, and as Y/N headed toward the elevator, she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. He was still standing by the door, his attention now on the rain outside, but she could’ve sworn she caught him sneaking a glance at her as she walked away.
Y/N stepped into her apartment, water dripping onto the floor as she kicked off her soaked sneakers. She stripped off her rain-soaked clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket before heading straight to the bathroom. The hot water of the shower was bliss, washing away the chill of the rain and the lingering frustration of getting caught in it. By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a fluffy towel, her skin was warm and her mind was clearer.
Slipping into her favorite pair of soft pajamas—shorts and an oversized t-shirt—she towel-dried her hair and grabbed her phone from the counter. She hadn’t checked it since leaving work, and the screen lit up with a few notifications. Most were unimportant, but one text made her freeze.
Unknown Number:
Hey, it’s Harry. Got your number from the resident book. Hope that’s okay. I, uh, ordered way too much food. If you’re not busy and don’t mind eating with someone who’s terrible at small talk, you’re welcome to join me.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry had texted her? She stared at the message, rereading it a couple of times, unsure what to make of it. The grumpy, brooding neighbor had gone out of his way to invite her over for dinner?
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she thought about what to say. She could easily come up with an excuse, blame the rain, or even politely decline. But something about his message—how he’d gone through the trouble of looking up her number and even made a self-deprecating joke—made her hesitate.
Finally, she started typing.
Y/N:
Hey! I’m surprised you didn’t mention how loud I was running through the lobby earlier. I’d love to join, but fair warning: I’m in my pajamas. I’ll bring wine to make up for it.
She hit send before she could second-guess herself and immediately got up to rummage through her small wine rack. She picked out a bottle of red, grabbed her favorite corkscrew, and texted him again.
Y/N:
Give me five minutes to make myself look less like a wet dog.
His response came almost instantly.
Harry:
I wouldn’t have said anything about the lobby, but now that you’ve brought it up… five minutes works. Apartment 4D.
Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. She quickly towel-dried her hair a little more, tossed it into a loose bun, and grabbed the wine. As she stood by her door, nerves fluttered in her stomach, but she pushed them aside.
Whatever this was—neighborly dinner, an olive branch, or something else—she was curious enough to find out.
Y/N stepped out of her apartment, the bottle of wine in hand, and made her way to the elevator. As she descended a floor, her nerves started to tingle, though she shook them off. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just dinner with her neighbor. Her very attractive, grumpy neighbor with tattoos and a British accent. Nothing to overthink at all.
When she reached Harry’s door, she raised her hand to knock—but before she could, the door swung open. Harry stood there, leaning casually against the frame, one eyebrow raised.
“I could hear you coming down the hall,” he said, his tone dry but his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it?”
Y/N let out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’ll take that as your way of saying you’re happy to see me.”
“Something like that,” he replied, stepping aside to let her in.
Y/N walked in, glancing around as she entered. Harry’s apartment was similar in layout to hers but had an entirely different vibe. The walls were painted a deep, moody gray, with shelves lined with books, records, and a few small plants that looked suspiciously well cared for. A guitar rested in the corner by the window, and the faint smell of takeout wafted from the small kitchen.
“Nice place,” she said, setting the wine on the counter. “Very… broody chic. Fits you.”
Harry arched a brow as he closed the door. “Broody chic? Is that a compliment?”
“Depends how you take it,” Y/N shot back with a grin.
He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he moved toward the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry. I may have overestimated how much I can eat on my own.”
She followed him, glancing at the spread on the counter. There were containers of what looked like Thai food—pad thai, green curry, fried rice, and spring rolls. Definitely enough for two, if not three.
“You weren’t kidding,” she said, grabbing a spring roll. “Planning on feeding the whole building?”
“Only the loudest resident,” he said, smirking again.
She gave him a playful glare before grabbing plates from the counter and handing him one. “Lucky for you, I came prepared,” she said, holding up the wine. “This should balance things out.”
As they settled at the small table, Y/N couldn’t help but notice how relaxed Harry seemed. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but there was something softer about him tonight. Less guarded. And as they started eating, trading sarcastic comments and occasional small talk, she realized she didn’t mind the challenge of cracking through his tough exterior one bit.
Harry handed Y/N two wine glasses, their fingers brushing briefly as she took them. He didn’t say anything, but his lips moved slightly as if he was trying not to smirk. Y/N poured the wine, filling each glass just enough before sliding one over to him.
Meanwhile, he plated the food, carefully dividing the dishes between two plates. His movements were deliberate, almost methodical, and Y/N found herself watching him for a moment before realizing what she was doing. Shaking herself out of it, she grabbed her glass and followed him to the bar counter.
They sat side by side, the warm glow of the pendant light above them casting a cozy atmosphere. Y/N took a sip of her wine, her gaze flicking to Harry as he started eating in silence.
For a while, she stayed quiet, enjoying the food and the unspoken rhythm of their shared meal. But her curiosity got the better of her. Setting her glass down, she turned toward him slightly, resting her elbow on the counter.
“So,” she began, her tone light but probing, “why are you always so grumpy?”
Harry paused mid-bite, his fork hovering over his plate as he looked at her. His green eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but as if he were trying to decide how serious she was.
“Grumpy?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, grumpy,” she said, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You know, the whole emo, barely-smiling, ‘I don’t have time for your nonsense’ vibe you’ve got going on. Is it like… your thing?”
Harry leaned back slightly, taking a slow sip of his wine as he considered her question. “Maybe I’m not grumpy,” he said finally, his voice calm. “Maybe you’re just too… cheerful.”
“Cheerful?” she echoed, laughing softly. “That’s your explanation? I’m cheerful, so that automatically makes you grumpy?”
“Something like that,” he said, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk.
Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re deflecting.”
He raised his glass, meeting her gaze over the rim as he took another sip. “Maybe.”
“Come on,” she pressed, leaning in slightly. “There’s got to be a reason. I mean, you’re not actuallymiserable all the time, are you?”
Harry sighed, setting his glass down and leaning his forearms on the counter. For a moment, he seemed to be debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he shrugged.
“I’m not grumpy,” he said, his voice quieter. “I just… don’t see the point in pretending all the time. People put on this front like everything’s great, but most of the time, it’s not. I’m just… honest about it.”
Y/N tilted her head, studying him. There was something in his tone—something unspoken but heavy, like he was revealing more than he intended.
“Well,” she said softly, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think being happy is the same as pretending. And I’m not pretending.”
Harry glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “I noticed,” he said simply.
Her cheeks warmed, and for a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Then Y/N picked up her glass and raised it toward him.
“To being honest,” she said with a small smile.
Harry’s eyes flicked to her glass before he picked up his own, clinking it against hers. “To being honest,” he echoed.
And for the first time that evening, his smirk softened into something closer to a smile.
Harry swirled the wine in his glass, staring at the deep red liquid for a moment before setting it down and looking at Y/N. His expression was more open now, his usual guarded demeanor softened.
“You seem nice enough,” he said, his tone casual but sincere. “I could use a friend around here.”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the admission. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Then a warm smile spread across her face.
“Well, that’s unexpected,” she said, her voice light with humor. “I thought for sure you hated me after the whole karaoke fiasco.”
Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching in amusement. “Hated you? No. Annoyed, maybe. But hate’s a strong word.”
“Good to know,” Y/N said, laughing softly. “Because I was convinced you’d written me off as the world’s loudest neighbor.”
“I’ll admit,” Harry said, smirking now, “the karaoke was… a lot. But it’s hard to hate someone who sings ‘I Want It That Way’ with that much enthusiasm.”
Y/N covered her face with her hands, laughing harder. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you remember the song. That’s so embarrassing.”
“It’s unforgettable,” he said with mock seriousness, taking another sip of wine.
When her laughter died down, Y/N looked at him, her expression softening. “For what it’s worth, I’d be happy to be your friend. You don’t seem as scary as you pretend to be.”
“Scary?” Harry echoed, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, yeah,” she teased. “You’ve got the whole ‘grumpy lone wolf’ thing going on. It’s a little intimidating.”
Harry shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his face. “I’m not scary.”
“No,” Y/N said, grinning. “You’re not. You’re just… Harry.”
He didn’t respond right away, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Finally, he nodded, his tone soft but certain. “Yeah. Just Harry.”
As they continued eating, the conversation grew lighter, the initial tension between them fading into something comfortable. By the time they finished their meal, Y/N realized that beneath Harry’s gruff exterior was someone she genuinely wanted to know better. And judging by the way his smirk had softened into something warmer, she suspected he felt the same.
After finishing their plates, Harry leaned back in his chair, resting his forearm on the bar counter as he glanced at Y/N. There was a comfortable silence between them, one she hadn’t expected when she first showed up at his door.
“Thanks for coming over,” he said finally, his tone quieter but sincere. “I don’t usually… do this.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, swirling her wine in her glass. “What? Order too much food or invite people over?”
He smirked faintly, shaking his head. “The second one. I’m not exactly the ‘neighborly dinner’ type.”
“Well, I feel special then,” she teased, tilting her head at him. “Although, if you’re not usually this social, why’d you invite me? I mean, not that I’m complaining.”
Harry shrugged, glancing down at his glass. “You seemed… different. I don’t know. Most people I meet just seem fake, like they’re putting on a show. But you’re…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Real.”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty of his words. “Oh,” she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, thanks. I think.”
“I mean it,” Harry added, looking at her directly now. “You’re… not what I expected when I moved here. In a good way.”
Her cheeks warmed at his words, and she tried to play it off with humor. “Careful, Harry. You’re starting to sound like you actually like me.”
“Don’t push it,” he said with a smirk, though his eyes were softer than usual.
They fell into another comfortable silence, sipping their wine and letting the moment stretch out. Y/N felt herself relax more with each passing second, realizing how easy it was to be around him now that some of his walls had come down.
After a moment, she broke the quiet. “You know, for someone who claims not to be social, you’re pretty good company.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is,” she said, her grin widening. “You should let yourself be social more often. You might surprise yourself.”
He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “One step at a time.”
They shared a small laugh, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was a turning point. Whatever Harry had been holding back before, he was letting her in now, even if only a little. It felt… nice.
Eventually, she glanced at her phone and realized how late it had gotten. “I should probably head back,” she said, setting her empty wine glass down. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”
Harry stood as she got up, shaking his head. “You haven’t. But… thanks for coming. I mean it.”
She smiled, grabbing the bottle of wine. “Anytime, Harry.”
As she walked to the door, he followed her, leaning casually against the frame as she turned back to face him. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at her, a softness she wasn’t used to seeing from him.
“Goodnight,” she said, her voice lighter now.
“Night, Y/N,” he replied, his smirk returning.
She headed back to her apartment, her heart unexpectedly lighter. Maybe Harry wasn’t as grumpy as he seemed—or maybe she was just getting used to it. Either way, she found herself smiling as she closed her door behind her. And for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t overthinking anything.
The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sunlight filtering through her blinds and a faint smile lingering on her lips. The night before with Harry had been… unexpected, but not in a bad way. She stretched, grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and immediately opened her group chat with Harper and Lila.
Y/N:
So, guess what? Harry invited me over for dinner last night.
It didn’t take long for her phone to explode with notifications.
Lila:
WHAT. DETAILS NOW.
Harper:
DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?!
Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks warming despite being alone.
Y/N:
No, I didn’t sleep with him. Calm down.
Lila:
Boring. But continue.
Harper:
Okay, but like, did it feel like it was going there?
Y/N:
No! It wasn’t like that. He said he had too much food and could use a friend, so I brought wine, and we had dinner. That’s it.
Lila:
You brought wine. That’s a date move.
Harper:
Right? Totally a date.
Y/N:
It wasn’t a date. We ate at his bar counter, talked a little, and that’s all. But…
Lila:
BUT WHAT?!
Harper:
Spill, Y/N. Don’t make us beg.
Y/N sighed, biting her lip as she typed out her next message.
Y/N:
Okay, fine. I wouldn’t mind if something happened, but it’s not like I know much about him. I don’t even know what he does for work.
Lila:
Oh my God. You want to bang the mysterious, tattooed neighbor. I KNEW IT.
Harper:
This is your grumpy/sunshine romance, and we are living for it.
Y/N:
You two are ridiculous. I’m just saying he’s attractive, okay? That doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.
Lila:
It’ll happen. The sexual tension alone is probably unbearable.
Harper:
Agreed. You just need to ask him questions about himself. What he does for work, what his favorite food is, if he’s single—
Lila:
Definitely ask the last one. For research purposes.
Y/N groaned, shaking her head but smiling despite herself.
Y/N:
You two are impossible. But fine, if the opportunity comes up, I’ll try to find out more about him. Happy?
Harper:
Ecstatic.
Lila:
Can’t wait to hear how this unfolds. We’re already planning the wedding playlist.
Y/N laughed, tossing her phone onto the bed. Her friends were relentless, but they weren’t wrong about one thing—she was curious about Harry. And as much as she tried to deny it, she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better… or seeing where this strange connection between them might lead.
Later that month Y/N walked into her apartment after a long day, expecting the usual cozy warmth to greet her. Instead, an icy chill hit her the moment she stepped inside. She frowned, rubbing her arms and heading straight for the thermostat. She fiddled with it for a minute, but no matter what she did, the heater refused to turn on.
“Great,” she muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. It wasn’t unbearably cold outside, but inside her apartment, it felt like a freezer.
With no other options, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She didn’t know many people in the building—just Harry, really. And as much as she hesitated, her fingers hovered over his name before she finally sent a text.
Y/N:
Hey, random question. Do you happen to have a small heater or something I can borrow? My heater’s broken, and it’s freezing in here.
A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.
Harry:
Why don’t you just stay here tonight? I’ve got heat, and I don’t own a portable heater.
Y/N stared at the message, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t expected that. Borrowing something was one thing, but staying at his place? She hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against the screen. Before she could overthink it, she typed out a response.
Y/N:
Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.
His reply was quick.
Harry:
You’re not intruding. Besides, it’s better than you freezing to death in your apartment. Bring whatever you need.
She bit her lip, a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling in her chest. Finally, she grabbed a bag and threw in some essentials—pajamas, a toothbrush, and a few other things—before bundling up and heading out.
When she reached his door, she knocked softly. It opened almost immediately, and there was Harry, leaning against the frame with his usual calm demeanor.
“Figured you’d take me up on the offer,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.
“Yeah, well, hypothermia didn’t sound appealing,” Y/N replied with a small smile, brushing past him into the warmth of his apartment.
As she set her bag down by the couch, she glanced at him. “Thanks for this, by the way. I really appreciate it.”
He shrugged, closing the door. “No problem. It’s just one night.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wow, Harry. That almost sounded like you’re happy to have me here.”
He gave her a dry look but didn’t respond, instead gesturing toward the couch. “You can take the couch if you want, or I can grab some extra blankets for the guest room.”
She looked at the couch, then back at him. “Guest room? You have a guest room?”
“Barely,” he said with a shrug. “It’s more of a storage room, but there’s a bed in there.”
“Well, as long as it’s warmer than my apartment, I’ll take it.”
Harry nodded, heading toward the hallway. “I’ll grab some blankets.”
As Harry disappeared down the hallway to grab blankets, Y/N called after him, her voice light and teasing. “By the way, I brought some wine as a thank-you! You know, for saving me from my frozen wasteland of an apartment.”
She heard him chuckle faintly, his voice drifting back from the other room. “Thoughtful of you. What kind?”
“Red. A classic, nothing too fancy,” she replied, smirking as she started to take the bottle out of her bag. “Figured you’d prefer something a little understated, given your whole ‘mysterious and broody’ vibe.”
Harry reappeared in the doorway, carrying a thick blanket over one shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I think you enjoy calling me broody a little too much.”
“Well, it fits,” she shot back, grinning. “Speaking of which, I realized something earlier—I don’t even know what you do for work. So, enlighten me, oh mysterious one. What is it that you do?”
Harry paused for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I own an art gallery,” he said simply, setting the blanket on the couch.
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “You own an art gallery?”
“Yeah,” he said, leaning casually against the back of the couch. “Small place over in Silver Lake. Nothing flashy, just local artists and smaller exhibitions.”
She stared at him, her curiosity piqued. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“What did you see coming?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, laughing softly. “Something more… I don’t know, corporate? Like sitting at a desk all day and brooding at spreadsheets.”
Harry actually laughed at that, a low, warm sound that surprised her. “Sorry to disappoint. No spreadsheets involved.”
“No, it’s not disappointing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s just… unexpected. I mean, you own an art gallery. That’s cool. Artistic and grumpy? You’re full of surprises, Harry.”
He shook his head, but there was a faint warmth in his expression, like her enthusiasm had caught him off guard. “It’s just a business.”
“Just a business?” she repeated, tilting her head. “Don’t undersell yourself. That’s impressive.”
He looked at her for a moment, his gaze steady. “Thanks.”
They fell into a brief silence, and Y/N felt the air shift slightly. It wasn’t awkward—if anything, it felt… comfortable. She gestured to the wine. “So, should we open this or what?”
Harry nodded, stepping into the kitchen to grab two glasses. “Why not? You’re my guest, after all.”
As he poured the wine, Y/N couldn’t help but think that for someone who seemed so guarded at first, Harry was slowly becoming an open book—one she was eager to keep reading.
Y/N leaned against the counter, swirling her glass of wine as she watched Harry pour his own. “So, how did you end up owning an art gallery?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “I mean, that’s not exactly the most common career path.”
Harry took a sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful as he set the glass down. “I’ve always loved art. Painting, sketching… that sort of thing. But it’s not exactly the easiest way to make a living.”
Y/N nodded, understanding the struggle. “So, the gallery was a way to stay involved in the art world?”
“Something like that,” he said, leaning his hip against the counter. “I came into some money after my mom passed a few years ago. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to make me think about what I really wanted to do. I didn’t want to sit in an office or work for someone else. I wanted something that felt… personal. The gallery felt like the right choice.”
“That’s incredible,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “I mean, turning something you love into a business? Not many people can say they’ve done that.”
Harry shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “It has its challenges, but I don’t regret it.”
Y/N smiled at him, feeling a new layer of respect for her neighbor. After a moment, he tilted his head, his eyes flicking to her. “What about you? What do you do?”
She hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Oh, nothing nearly as impressive as you,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just a server. I work at an Italian restaurant a few blocks from here.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Like what?” she asked, frowning.
“Like it’s nothing. You said you’re ‘just’ a server,” he said, taking another sip of his wine. “You’re in food service, right? That’s an art in itself. Just… a different kind.”
She blinked, caught off guard by his perspective. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”
He nodded, gesturing with his glass. “Think about it. You’re part of creating an experience for people. The way the food’s presented, the way you interact with customers—it’s all part of the artistry. Doesn’t matter if it’s a painting on a wall or a plate of pasta. It’s still something people connect with.”
Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over her. “That’s… actually really nice of you to say.”
“It’s true,” Harry said simply, his green eyes meeting hers. “Stop selling yourself short.”
She smiled, feeling unexpectedly lighter. “Thanks, Harry. I guess I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time someone complains about their breadsticks not being warm enough.”
He chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Breadsticks or not, it sounds like you’re good at what you do.”
Y/N sipped her wine, the corners of her lips curving up.
Y/N swirled the wine in her glass, glancing at Harry over the rim. She hesitated for a moment, then decided to push the conversation a little further. “You know,” she began, her voice softer now, “you have a really nice way of thinking about things. The way you look at art, even food… it’s kind of impressive.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with an amused expression. “Is that your way of saying I’m not just a grumpy neighbor?”
“Maybe,” she said with a small grin, her tone almost teasing. “But seriously, you’ve got a smart mind, Harry. You see things in a way most people don’t.”
He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes studying her as if trying to figure out her angle. “Are you flirting with me, Y/N?”
She laughed, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. “And if I was?”
Harry’s lips curved into a faint smirk, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then I’d say it’s about time you stopped pretending you find me intimidating.”
“I never said you intimidate me,” she shot back, her grin widening. “I said you have a grumpy vibe. Totally different.”
“Right,” he said, his tone dry but his smirk giving him away. “Good to know I’m not scaring you off.”
“Not even close,” Y/N replied, her voice confident now. She leaned her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at him. “You’re not as scary as you think, Harry. In fact, I think you’re kind of… interesting.”
Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”
“Right back at you,” she said, her gaze warm.
For a moment, the air between them shifted. The playful banter was still there, but beneath it was something quieter, something unspoken. Y/N didn’t know what exactly was happening, but she wasn’t in a hurry to break the moment.
Harry finally set his glass down, his expression softening just slightly. “Careful, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but with a hint of amusement. “You keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”
“Maybe I do,” she said simply, holding his gaze.
The corners of his mouth twitched, and for the first time, he didn’t deflect her comment. Instead, he just looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his green eyes. Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken, but she didn’t look away.
The mood in the room shifted as Harry leaned forward, his green eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine.
He tilted his head slightly, his voice low and teasing as he said, "You wouldn't be able to handle me."
Her breath caught, but she wasn't about to let him have the last word.
"Try me," she challenged, her voice steady but laced with anticipation.
Harry's eyes darkened, the playful smirk on his lips giving way to something deeper, something more raw. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and placed his hand lightly on her throat-not gripping, just resting, his thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. The warmth of his touch made her heart race, and she felt her breath hitch as he leaned in closer.
For a moment, the world around them seemed to disappear, the only sound her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Then, without another word, Harry closed the gap between them, capturing her lips in a deep, searing kiss.
It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't rushed either-it was deliberate, like he'd been holding himself back and was finally letting go. His lips moved against hers with a confidence that left no room for hesitation, and Y/N melted into the kiss, her hand instinctively reaching out to grip the edge of the counter for balance.
She kissed him back just as fervently, tilting her head to deepen the connection. His fingers slid from her throat to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as though he couldn't get enough of her. The heat between them was undeniable, and in that moment, nothing else mattered-not the chill of her broken heater, not the wine, not the playful banter that had led them here.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads nearly touching. Harry's green eyes searched hers, and for once, his usual guarded expression was nowhere to be found.
"Still think I can't handle you?" Y/N whispered, her voice a little breathless but tinged with humor.
Harry smirked, his hand still lingering at the nape of her neck.
"Guess I underestimated you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "But l'm not done yet.”
Harry's hand slid down from Y/N's neck to her wrist, his grip firm but careful as he led her through his apartment toward his bedroom.
Her heart pounded in anticipation, her breath catching when he opened the door and gently but deliberately pushed her onto the bed.
Y/N gasped softly, propping herself up on her elbows as she looked up at him. The intensity in his green eyes made her pulse race, and the energy between them was electric, the room feeling heavier with every passing second.
Harry stepped closer, his movements slow and controlled, like he was savoring the moment.
He placed a hand on her throat again, this time with a gentle but deliberate squeeze that sent a shiver down her spine. His thumb brushed along her jawline as he leaned in, his voice low and commanding.
"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he asked, his tone dripping with authority and heat.
Y/N's breath hitched as she nodded slowly, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.
Her voice was caught somewhere in her throat, so she let her actions speak for her, tilting her head slightly into his touch.
Harry smirked, leaning down until his lips were just a breath away from her ear. His voice dropped even lower, a whisper that made her skin prickle with anticipation.
"I knew you would be," he murmured, his tone both teasing and possessive.
The words sent a jolt through her, and she felt her body react instinctively, her cheeks flushing as she surrendered to the moment.
Harry's lips brushed against the corner of her jaw, trailing down her neck as his hand stayed firmly but gently in place. Every movement felt deliberate, like he wanted her to feel every second of his attention.
Whatever control Y/N thought she had going into this was slipping fast, and the way Harry's touch consumed her made it clear—he knew it, too.
Harry paused, his intense green eyes meeting Y/N’s as he leaned over her. His hand lingered on her throat, his grip light but enough to hold her attention completely. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, didn’t move any closer. He just looked at her, his gaze softening slightly, as if he were silently asking her a question.
It wasn’t just a look—it was a pause, a chance for her to stop him if she wanted to. His eyes, usually so guarded, were now open and searching, silently asking for her consent.
Y/N’s heart raced as she looked back at him, feeling the weight of his unspoken question. She swallowed, her breath shallow as she gave him the answer he was waiting for. Slowly, purposely, she nodded.
Harry’s lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and satisfaction crossing his face. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an edge of tenderness.
He leaned down again, his lips brushing hers as his hand on her throat tightened just slightly, enough to make her feel both safe and completely at his mercy. And as the space between them disappeared, Y/N felt herself giving in fully, her trust in him unwavering.
Harry's piercing gaze never left Y/N's face, his touch as light as a butterfly's wings. He slowly pulled her to the edge, his hands on her hips. The soft rustle of sheets filled the room as she sank into the bedding, eyes darting up to meet his.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him undoing his pants, revealing his hardness beneath. She gulped audibly as he climbed onto the bed with her, their bodies pressed together from chest to knees. His hand trailed down her side, stopping just above her thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. His touch sent shivers of anticipation up and down her spine.
"Tell me what you want," he whispered against her earlobe, his hot breath causing goosebumps to form on her skin.
She bit her lip, hesitating for only a moment before whispering back, "I want you to take control."
Harry's smirk was both predatory and reassuring as he nodded once in understanding. His hand slid underneath her shirt, tracing patterns across her stomach before moving higher till it reached its destination: her lacy black bra. He palmed one of her breasts through the fabric, eliciting a moan from deep within her throat that echoed around them. His thumb circled her nipple roughly, making it harden into a tight bud underneath his touch.
His lips followed suit, kissing along her jawline and trailing down towards that erect nipple. He flicked it with his tongue teasingly while simultaneously tug
His smile was wicked as he leaned back, a glint in his eye. "Is that so?" He trailed kisses down her neck, his stubble grazing against her sensitive skin, making her shudder with pleasure. His hand slid between their bodies and brushed against her center, indulging in the wetness there. She gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch.
"You're so ready for me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He pushed her shorts aside and slid one finger inside her slowly, feeling the tightness surrounding him. Y/N moaned softly, her hips grinding against his hand in encouragement.
Harry removed his finger, teasing her as he lowered his head to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. He growled softly against her skin, sucking gently as he began to thrust two fingers inside her in short, quick motions that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She cried out softly, gripping the sheets beneath her as he continued his ministrations. He quickly undressed her and stared at her body. Y/N felt hot under his eyes.
They quickly lost themselves in each other's touches. The squeak of the bedframe echoed in the room as Harry positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside her slowly. She gasped at the fullness but welcomed it, urging him on with a nod of encouragement.
He slowed down, taking deep breaths to regain control as he braced himself above her. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked hoarsely, gaze locked onto hers.
Y/N nodded fiercely, signaling him to continue. With a low growl of approval, he began moving inside her slowly but steadily, their
bodies meeting in a dance of desire. Every thrust sent ripples of pleasure through them both, their skin slick with sweat under the dim light of the bedside lamp. The air was thick with an almost palpable tension as they moved together, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the room.
Harry's grip on her hips tightened, his rhythm becoming faster and harder, mirroring the desire that flared in his eyes. Y/N met him stroke for stroke, their eyes locked on each other as if they were the only two people in the room. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the silence beneath the duvet, broken only by their heavy breathing and soft moans.
Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she neared her climax, his name falling from her lips in a whispered plea. Without missing a beat, he quickened his pace, his cock driving into her with urgency. Their connection was intense, overwhelming, everything she could have asked for and more.
As she cried out in ecstasy beneath him, feeling her orgasm wash over her like a wave, Harry followed close behind. His body tensed as he groaned loudly, filling her with his warmth and love. Their hearts raced in unison as they finally collapsed onto each other, panting heavily but content.
He rolled off her slowly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before rolling onto his back beside her.
Harry lay on his side, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at Y/N. His green eyes were softer now, a flicker of mischief dancing in them as he smirked.
"So," he said, his voice low and teasing, "are you going to text your little girl chat and tell them we fucked?" Y/N let out a surprised laugh, turning her head to look at him.
"What? No! They'd never let me live it down."
Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself.
"You should. Tell them the hot, mysterious guy was really grumpy the whole time."Y/N laughed even harder, covering her face with her hand.
"Oh, right. That'll really sell it. 'Hey, girls, just an FYl, my grumpy neighbor is not only hot but also excellent in bed. Highly recommend.'"
Harry chuckled, his grin widening. "Not bad. Make sure you add in the part about how I stayed in character the whole time-grumpy and all."
She rolled her eyes, still smiling as she nudged him playfully. "Fine. I'll throw in that your scowl is even sexier up close. Happy?"
"Ecstatic," he said dryly, though the amused glint in his eyes gave him away. YN shook her head, the laughter subsiding into a warm smile.
"You know," she said, her tone softening, "you might be mysterious and grumpy, but you're also a little cocky. Just saying."
Harry leaned down, his face inches from hers.
"Maybe," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "But I think you like it."
Her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him, biting back a grin. "Maybe I do."
"Good," he said simply, before capturing her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that made her forget about everything else-including her friends waiting for updates in the group chat.
The week passed in a blur of near-misses and brief encounters between Y/N and Harry. She saw him in the mailroom once, where he gave her a small nod and the faintest hint of a smirk before disappearing upstairs. Another time, they crossed paths in the hallway, exchanging quick hellos but nothing more.
Neither of them brought up the night they spent together, and while Y/N tried to brush it off as a casual hookup, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the topic. She didn’t want to push, figuring Harry would open up if and when he was ready.
Then, one evening, as she was curled up on her couch with a glass of wine and her laptop, her phone buzzed with a text.
Harry:
Hey. Sorry I’ve been so distant this week. The gallery is getting ready for a new showing, and it’s been… a lot.
Y/N stared at the message for a moment, her stomach fluttering. She hadn’t expected him to reach out, let alone apologize.
Y/N:
Hey, no worries. I figured you were busy. New showing sounds exciting though!
A moment later, her phone buzzed again.
Harry:
It is. Stressful, but worth it. You should come by. It’s this Saturday night. Bring your friends if you want.
Y/N’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry inviting her to his gallery? That felt… significant.
Y/N:
I’d love to. Are you sure you want me to bring my friends? They’re a little… loud.
Harry:
If they’re anything like you, I’m already prepared for chaos.
She laughed softly, shaking her head.
Y/N:
Fair warning: chaos is guaranteed. But I’ll be there.
Harry:
Good. I’ll send you the details tomorrow.
Y/N set her phone down, a small smile tugging at her lips. For all of Harry’s grumpiness and guarded demeanor, this felt like his way of extending an olive branch—a step toward something more. And she couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing him in his element, at the gallery, intrigued her.
She grabbed her phone again and opened the group chat with Harper and Lila.
Y/N:
Ladies, clear your schedules for Saturday night. We’re going to an art gallery.
Predictably, her phone exploded with responses almost immediately.
Lila:
Wait, is this Harry’s gallery?
Harper:
The grumpy tattooed neighbor has an art gallery?
Y/N:
Yes. He invited me. And before you ask—no, we’re not talking about the other night.
Lila:
Boring. But fine, we’re in. Is there wine?
Harper:
And snacks?
Y/N:
I’ll ask. But behave yourselves. He already thinks I’m loud.
Lila:
Oh, honey, we’re just getting started.
Y/N laughed, already imagining the chaos her friends would inevitably bring. But deep down, she was looking forward to Saturday more than she cared to admit.
The week crawled by as Saturday approached, each day slower than the last. Y/N found herself obsessing over small details—whether Harry would be too busy to notice her, what kind of people attended art gallery showings, and most importantly, what to wear. She wanted to look effortlessly put-together, like someone who appreciated art but wasn’t trying too hard.
By Saturday afternoon, her room was a battlefield of discarded outfits. Finally, she settled on a sleek black jumpsuit paired with a cropped denim jacket and ankle boots—stylish but not over the top. She added a few gold accessories and a swipe of lipstick before grabbing her bag and heading out the door.
On the way to Silver Lake, she picked up Harper and Lila, who were already buzzing with excitement when they climbed into the car.
“You look hot,” Lila said, eyeing her outfit. “Very ‘I like art but I’m too cool to talk about it.’”
“Thanks,” Y/N said, laughing as she started the car. “I’m going for low-key, not intimidating.”
“Well, mission accomplished,” Harper chimed in, adjusting her blazer.
Y/N glanced at them in the rearview mirror, grinning. Harper wore a bold red jumpsuit, while Lila had opted for a metallic skirt and leather jacket.
By the time they pulled into Silver Lake, the sun had set, and the neighborhood was alive with energy. The gallery came into view, its windows glowing warmly against the evening sky. People were milling about on the sidewalk, chatting in small groups with glasses of wine in hand, while others filtered in and out of the bustling space.
“This is it,” Y/N said, parking the car and taking a deep breath.
“It’s so fancy,” Lila said, practically bouncing in her seat. “Look at all these people!”
Harper leaned forward, peering out the window. “I’m already picturing Harry brooding in a corner, glaring at anyone who talks too loud.”
“Probably,” Y/N muttered, her heart fluttering as she got out of the car. She grabbed her bag and adjusted her jacket before turning to her friends. “Okay, let’s not embarrass me too much, yeah?”
“No promises,” Harper said with a grin, looping her arm through Y/N’s as they headed toward the gallery entrance.
Inside, the space was even more vibrant. The walls were adorned with bold, eclectic pieces of art—paintings, sculptures, and mixed-media pieces that immediately drew attention. Soft music played in the background, and servers wove through the crowd with trays of wine and hors d’oeuvres. The hum of conversation filled the air, blending with the occasional burst of laughter.
Y/N’s eyes scanned the room, searching for Harry. She didn’t spot him right away, but she noticed how carefully curated the space felt—each piece arranged with intention. It was a reflection of him, she realized, meticulous and thoughtful.
“This is amazing,” Harper said, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing server. “He really knows what he’s doing.”
Lila nudged Y/N. “Speaking of, where is Mr. Grumpy Art Dealer? I want to see him in his element.”
“I don’t know,” Y/N said, glancing around again. “He’s probably—”
Before she could finish, her gaze landed on him. Harry stood near the back of the room, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his tattoos. He was talking to a small group of people, but his eyes flicked toward her as if he could feel her presence.
Their gazes locked for a moment, and he gave her a subtle nod before turning back to his conversation. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt Lila squeeze her arm.
“Oh, he definitely saw you,” Lila said, grinning. “And I’m not imagining the way he looked at you.”
“Stop,” Y/N hissed, her cheeks flushing. But she couldn’t deny it—there was something in his gaze that felt personal, even in the middle of the crowd.
“Go say hi,” Harper urged, giving her a nudge.
“Not yet,” Y/N said, grabbing a glass of wine for herself. “I’ll wait until he’s free. Let’s just look around first.”
As they wandered through the gallery, admiring the artwork, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry’s eyes were on her—even when she wasn’t looking his way.
Y/N wandered through the gallery, sipping her wine as she admired the artwork. Each piece was so different—some abstract, others intricate and detailed—but all of them carried a sense of purpose. It was easy to see that Harry had a good eye for curating.
She glanced across the room and saw Harper and Lila chatting animatedly with a group of women, likely bonding over their outfits or the wine. Typical, she thought with a smile, shaking her head.
As she moved to the next painting—a striking piece of layered colors and textures—she felt someone step up beside her. There was a shift in the air, a quiet presence that made her turn her head.
It was Harry.
He stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the painting. His black shirt, with the sleeves still rolled up, contrasted sharply against the warm tones of the art, and his tattoos seemed to blend seamlessly into the aesthetic of the space.
“It’s acrylic and resin,” he said, his voice low but steady. “The artist used palette knives for the texture and then poured resin over it to give it that shine. Took weeks to cure properly.”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard for a moment before she found her words. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, turning her attention back to the piece. “I love the depth in it. It feels like you could reach in and get lost.”
Harry glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That’s the idea. The artist wanted it to feel immersive, like stepping into an emotional landscape.”
She looked at him, her curiosity piqued. “Do you know all the details of every piece in here?”
“Pretty much,” he admitted, his smirk growing. “Part of the job. I like to understand the process—it helps me connect with the artists and explain it to people who come through.”
Y/N smiled, sipping her wine. “It’s impressive. You’ve created something really special here.”
Harry looked at her again, his green eyes studying her for a moment. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “It means a lot, coming from you.”
She tilted her head, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Why me?”
He shrugged slightly, his gaze flicking back to the painting. “Because you actually look at the art. Most people just see it, but you’re trying to understand it.”
Her cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment, and she turned back to the painting to hide her flustered expression. “Well, you make it hard not to appreciate it. The way you talk about it… it’s obvious how much you care.”
He didn’t respond right away, and the silence between them felt comfortable, almost intimate. Finally, he leaned in just slightly, his voice softer now.
“I’m glad you came,” he said.
Y/N turned to look at him again, her heart skipping a beat at the closeness between them. “Me too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, the bustling crowd around them faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing there, the art surrounding them as if it were part of their story.
Harry slipped his hand into Y/N’s, his fingers warm and steady as he gently tugged her through the gallery. She followed without question, her curiosity mounting as they weaved between groups of people. He didn’t say a word, just led her down a quieter section of the space where fewer people were lingering.
When they stopped, Y/N noticed the piece in front of them was a painting—bold yet delicate, with strokes that somehow conveyed both strength and softness. She tilted her head, studying it, drawn to the way the light and shadows played across the figure in the painting. There was something familiar about it, something that tugged at her memory.
She took a step closer, her heart beating faster as the realization slowly dawned on her. The painting wasn’t just beautiful—it was her.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned to Harry, her eyes wide. “Is this…?”
He nodded, his gaze steady but unreadable. “It’s you.”
Y/N stared at the painting again, her mind racing. The details were unmistakable—the way her hair fell, the soft curve of her face, the hint of a thoughtful expression she’d never realized she wore. But it wasn’t just her likeness; it was the way the he had captured something deeper, something vulnerable and raw.
“How?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harry’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “I started it a few weeks after I moved in. I didn’t even know your name then. I just… saw you.”
Her chest tightened as she turned to him again. “You saw me?”
He nodded, his green eyes softer now. “In the mailroom. In the hallway. On your balcony once, drinking coffee. I didn’t know why, but there was something about you that I couldn’t get out of my head. So, I painted.”
Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of emotions swirling inside her—flattery, disbelief, and something she couldn’t quite name. “Harry, this is… incredible. I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I just thought you should see it. This is the first time I’ve shown it to anyone.”
Her heart thudded in her chest, and she took a step closer to him, her voice soft. “Why me?”
Harry’s gaze locked on hers, his expression open and sincere. “Because it’s you, Y/N. I couldn’t have painted this if it wasn’t.”
The noise of the gallery faded around them as she stood there, her hand still in his, staring up at the painting of herself. For the first time, she saw herself through someone else’s eyes—not as the loud, chaotic neighbor, but as something worthy of being captured in art.
And Harry, the grumpy, mysterious neighbor, was the one who had done it.
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Wifey🤰🏾💍
Mom Paige bueckers x influencer mom female reader
Summary: You and Paige are married and have three kids... Which as quickly become a running joke.
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The cozy hum of family life filled the kitchen as you set your phone up against the countertop for an impromptu Instagram Live. Parker was perched on your hip, her chubby hands fiddling with the strap of your tank top as her big brown eyes darted around with curiosity. Her soft coos melted your heart as you adjusted the angle of the phone, your face lighting up when the viewers started rolling in.
“Alright, y’all, don’t come for me about how tired I look,” you teased, glancing at the comments scrolling quickly on the screen. “This is mom life, okay? Three kids in five years. I’m running on iced coffee and vibes at this point.”
Parker gurgled, and you kissed her cheek softly. “Parker says hi, by the way. Say hi, baby,” you encouraged, lifting her tiny hand to wave at the screen.
The comments were already flying in:
“Y’all had another kid?!”
“At this point, Paige needs to chill.”
“Mama stays busy fr.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “I swear, y’all love dragging Paige. She’s somewhere around here, probably eating something she didn’t ask me if she could have.”
Right on cue, you felt familiar arms slide around your waist from behind. Paige’s taller frame towered over you, and you felt her chin rest lightly on top of your head. She pressed close, her warmth immediately grounding you.
“There she is,” you said, laughing softly as the comments exploded. “And here comes the culprit.”
Parker lit up when she spotted Paige, letting out an excited squeal. Paige peeked down at the baby, grinning ear to ear. “Hi, Mama,” she cooed, her voice soft and playful as Parker reached out for her.
“Here, take her,” you said, passing Parker to Paige, who immediately kissed her baby’s cheek. The sight made your chest warm. Seeing Paige with your kids always hit you in a special way.
“Look at these two,” you said to the camera, your voice tinged with affection. “They look like twins.”
Paige stayed behind you, holding Parker with one arm while keeping the other securely around your waist. Her grip was gentle yet firm, a silent reminder of how much she adored you. You glanced at a comment that caught your eye.
“Let us see the nails.”
“Oh, okay!” you said, holding up your hand to the camera. Your fresh set gleamed, and the delicate cursive "P" on your ring nail caught the light. “What do y’all think? I wanted something simple this time.”
Before you could pull your hand away, Paige leaned closer, pointing at the nail. “Y’all see this? This my baby. My wife. That ‘P’ don’t stand for anyone but me,” she declared proudly.
You laughed, shaking your head. “Relax, Buckets. You know they know I’m yours.”
Paige smirked, her free arm snaking back around your waist to pull you even closer. The comments started to get even more chaotic:
“Paige, get off her!”
“Doctor, it’s loose again!”
“Sis can’t breathe, let her go.”
“Okay, so y’all thinking boy or girl for the next one?”
Paige laughed loudly, leaning her forehead against the back of your head. “If y’all had a woman like this, you wouldn’t be able to stay off her either. Be real.”
You turned your head to give her a side-eye. “Paige, don’t start.”
“Oh, I’ve been started,” she teased, pressing a series of soft kisses on your shoulder. Parker babbled happily in her arms, as if agreeing with her mama.
You couldn’t help but laugh along with her, your heart full in a way that words couldn’t quite capture. Turning your attention back to the live, you read aloud one more comment: “Seriously, Paige, leave the poor woman alone!”
“Y’all act like I don’t love this,” you said, smiling knowingly. “I married her for a reason, didn’t I?”
Paige grinned behind you, placing another kiss on your shoulder. “You sure did. You stuck with me now, baby.”
I take requests! 💋 also leave a comment I love to hear from y'all
#paige bueckers x you#paige bueckers uconn#paige bueckers x reader#paige buckets#paige bueckers#paige x reader#uconn x reader#uconn wbb#paige bueckers fanfiction
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the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine
cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.
loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.
gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.
of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.
it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.
at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.
sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.
“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.
by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.
“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.
before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.
“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”
“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.
toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”
“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.
though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.
soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.
“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.
“let me alone, just today” you whined.
“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.
to correct your form. obviously.
"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.
"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.
"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.
"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.
it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.
"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.
how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...
"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.
and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.
"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.
"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.
"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.
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Hi, I'm the OP of this thread on Bluesky. I thought I'd come on here and upload some of the analysis I've done in later-additions to this thread, which weren't online when Tumblr-OP @carucath made this post, as well as a recent interaction with Rhianna Pratchett, all of which I think are useful bits of contextual info/expansion. I've seen a few people in the notes/reblogs saying things about the fan-desire to rush to defend their faves etc., and kind of discounting my analysis because of that. While I agree that fandom spaces absolutely do have a huge problem with that, and that retrospectively reading Neil Gaiman's work looking for 'signs' that he was a piece of shit the whole time isn't actually constructive/doesn't really add anything useful to the discourse, my intent with this thread wasn't to try to absolve PTerry or put distance between him and Gaiman (though I can see how it reads that way). I'm more interested in looking at how 'known' people like Gaiman move within fandom spaces, as well as how our parasocial relationships with public figures, and the cult of personality which some people build up around them, can often help to protect them or even enable their behaviour (worth remembering that a number of the women Gaiman assaulted/abused have talked about being fans of his work, or meeting him through fandom spaces, or, even when not fans of his work as in the case of Scarlett, still being a bit over-awed by his fame and reputation). I suspect that Gaiman's embellishment of his relationship with PTerry helped to build up his persona in SF/Fantasy fandom spaces after Pratchett's death, contributing to his personal Cult of Personality and fandom parasocial relationships with him. Over the last 5 years especially, Gaiman has had a pretty meteoric rise in the public eye outside of online SF/Fantasy fandom spaces & conventions. In particular a number of his works have been adapted for TV across various large streaming-platforms following the success of Good Omens, with high-profile names attached to them, and large marketing campaigns. By positioning his Good Omens adaptation as 'Terry's dying wish' of him, Gaiman has gained a lot of attention for it and for his other work, increased his own public standing, and thus directly profited off of Pratchett's legacy and the public perception that the two were close friends. (Obviously GO was adapted with the support of Rhianna & Rob, but, as you'll see in these other threads, we probably should think of it as being primarily a PTerry novel, with some minor input from Gaiman). Some personal context: I hold two degrees in English literature (both with Firsts, or a 3.7-4.0 GPA for the Americans on this thread), as well as a research-Masters degree in Creative Writing (with a high 2.1, because I developed a chronic illness which made me bedbound for 6 months of that degree lmao). I have a long-standing personal and academic interest in both Gaiman and Pratchett's work, and have written multiple essays on Terry Pratchett's style & his approach to genre, including some for my Masters degree. I generally stay out of fandom spaces these days, and these threads have sprung out of my own prior research and academic work. While I'm yet to seek a PhD, I have previously been employed by the English Literature department of the main university in my city, where I was the tutor for one of their undergraduate courses (this means I was responsible for organising and running the weekly group tutorials/workshops which make up the other contact-hours for students outside of lectures, providing one-on-one support and feedback for students who asked for extra guidance but didn't feel it was complex enough to go to the head lecturer, and for marking student-essays). I do eventually hope to go in to academia/lecturing, but right now am taking a few years off from studying since finishing my Masters to pay off some of my student loan debt, get my health back on track, and to focus on my creative practice and writing career.
There was an interesting thread on Bluesky dissecting Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's relationship
TL:DR - It seems like Gaiman has been exaggerating the level of closeness between them for YEARS
#good omens#neil gaiman#terry pratchett#neil gaimen allegations#brute-forced my way back in to my long-dead high-school-era tumblr just for this#a couple of friends told me my thread was doing numbers over here and yeah#wow#hi everyone
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A Little Misunderstanding
Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Lil' angsty at points, but ends sweet, lots of mutual pining and two idiots not realising the other is also in love with the other, meddling mothers (for the best this time)
Summary: Your parents assume that Quinn, the man you mention over the phone all the time, is in fact your boyfriend. He's very much not, but Quinn thinks its funny to pretend he is...until it gets a little too real and maybe some truths are told and feelings are aired.
Notes: Thank you to the anon who requested fake dating to lovers with Quinn, I had this idea which is a little different from the usual fake dating so I hope its okay and you still like it 😊
Tried to keep it ambiguous as to where the reader originated from so that us UK girlies can relate as well as anyone else not from Vancouver and/or Canada.
Reminder I typically use UK spellings because I'm English so...don't come at me if you wish I spelt it the US away. If I have to read US spellings all the time, you can handle the odd UK spelling
Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)
Writing Masterlist
"When does your flight get in?" You balance your phone between your shoulder and ear, picking up a stray sock that had fallen out of your laundry basket as you attempt to tidy your apartment.
"7am your time, sweetheart, remember?" Your mother's voice rings clear down the line, familiar and warm. It's been a while since you saw either of your parents. You having moved all the way to Vancouver, more miles than you could count from your birthplace and hometown around two years ago. You were excited to have them finally able to come out and stay with you for a week, they'd never been to see you, and it had been a while since you'd been able to see your parents, not having time to fly to see them. While you were glad for the move to Vancouver, living in a completely different place away from your family wasn't always the easiest thing in the world. You so often felt like you were having to fend for yourself without much of a support network. Luckily you'd made some good friends in the time you'd been in Van.
"Quinn offered to come with me to pick you and dad up, we'll be there waiting for you so don't worry about getting an Uber." You dropped Quinn's name casually because that's what it was, he was just another part of your existence. Your friend, who admittedly you had a small crush on, but just your friend nonetheless. Just because you thought he was beautiful and wanted to kiss him didn't mean you were allowed to kiss him or that he'd even want to kiss you. He was a friend who happened to be a man and you both happened to be single. This had not changed for two years and wasn't likely to any time soon.
"Oh, Quinn'll be there?" Your mother's voice was suddenly more upbeat, excited. She'd been eager to meet Quinn for months now, you're not sure why she finally took an interest in one of your friends but you can't help but be glad. Quinn had become a massive part of your life, a support network you very much needed when you'd first come to a strange new place all by yourself. He was part of the fabric of your life now, and you knew he'd charm your parents without even thinking about it. It shouldn't matter to you that your parents like your friend, its not like Quinn was your boyfriend, but it did matter to you. You wanted them to like him as much as you did because you wanted him around for the foreseeable future.
"Yeah, I mentioned you were coming to visit the other day and his car is bigger than mine, so he offered to come along, he has to get up early most days anyway so he's not too bothered by it." It helped that Quinn had a couple of days off, but still you were thankful. He could have spent his rare enough free time doing something much more enjoyable than helping you pick your parents up from the airport.
"Your father and I look forward to meeting him, we've heard so much about him, darling!"
There's something about your mother's tone that makes you stop for a second suddenly feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. Maybe it's just how eager she is or maybe it's something else, but there's a little red flag waving in the back of your mind with some small print on that you just can't quite read yet.
"Right...um, look I'll see you tomorrow morning then? I gotta get everything ready for you guys."
"Of course, of course! We love you!"
"Love you too, mum."
"You're sure you don't mind?" You look over at Quinn from the passenger seat, the two of you look exhausted, big bags under your eyes and even bigger hoodies to hide in because a 5am wake up to get to the airport in time was just a little much for both of you. This early in the morning it's still dark and the streetlights do something to Quinn's face that makes him even more handsome than usual, even as he looks like he might fall back asleep at any minute. It doesn't help that his scruff has grown out or that his hair is in those perfect waves he always seems to get even when he's just taken his bucket off.
"I wouldn't have offered if I did, besides the amount of time we spend together isn't it about time I met your parents? You've met mine." He smiles over at you, cheeky, the sort of Quinn most people didn't see. It's silly that it makes your cheeks feel warm, he's just your friend. You shouldn't be flustered by him.
"Your parents are at as many of your games as possible, of course I've met them."
"So are you. Sue me for wanting to meet the parents of one of my best friends."
"I'm your best friend?" You lean your head back on the headrest, tilting slightly to grin at him all silly. Quinn can see it from the corner of his eye and as much as it's ridiculous, that little grin makes you even more beautiful than normal.
"One of." He rolls his eyes at you, partly because of your silliness and partly rolling his eyes at himself. You're his friend. He shouldn't feel this way about you, men can have female friends...he just can't seem to have you as a female friend without wanting to kiss you at any given opportunity. It's becoming difficult, even more so in the early morning when the low light level puts your face in stark contrast and your hoodie, one of his, makes you look so cozy and sweet.
"That's just your way of avoiding admitting how much you love me and need me in your life."
Quinn's cheeks flush bright red, so bright that even the low light can't hide it nor hide the way he bites back a smile at you, eyes fixed on the road and the last few miles to the airport.
"...Shut up."
The silence that fills the car is comfortable, the sort that comes about from spending so much time together. You have friends that aren't Quinn, of course you do, but Quinn had been your first friend in Vancouver. He'd shown you around and made time for you in his incredibly busy schedule. You were often the first person he saw when he came off a roadie and the last person to see him before he left for one. There were nights when you stayed round Quinn's after a game or vice versa. You spent so much time together that you simply coexisted, being around Quinn was as easy as breathing. You rarely argued or disagreed and when you did it was always resolved properly. You simply worked. There wasn't ever much to think about with Quinn. You could just...shut off.
"Thank you, though...seriously." You take a moment, thinking how to word your next few thoughts, your warning as the signs for the airport come into full view, "Just, my mum seems really eager to meet you so...just brace yourself."
"Eager?"
"You know when your parents are excited to meet a new partner?" You think back to the few times you'd introduced a boyfriend to your mum, the excitement that she exuded...it was starting to concern you that she was that excited to just meet your friend. Because that's all Quinn was. Your friend. Not your boyfriend. Your friend, you remind yourself, even as he looks so good smiling over at you with his beard. He'd let it grow out just enough that he looked rugged and mature.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, she's that sort of excited which is really weird...she normally doesn't' care that much about my friends. Just, sorry, if she's really weird about it?" It's awkward enough talking about, you and Quinn have always stayed firmly platonic, you didn't talk about the fact that people assumed you were dating or even the concept of it. Talking about it felt...it felt like you were opening the curtains up, letting him see in a little too far.
"You didn't tell her we were married or something, did you?"
"Quinn! Shut up!" He laughs so loud that you can't actually be that mad at him, not when he's grinning at you like that, not when he's been so stressed as of late about the performance of his team. Even if it's at your expense.
"What? Just checking! For all I know you could have told her we got married in Vegas during one of my games or something?"
"If I'm telling my mum I'm married to you, it'll be because I'm actually married to you, you idiot." You roll your eyes at him, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to look out the window.
"Oh, so you do want to marry me?" He's joking, but he's not...he's thought about it. There's not a day that Quinn hasn't thought about what it would be like to be yours and you be his, not since he met you...and then promptly managed to land himself so far into the friendzone that he was scared to crawl his way out lest he leave you behind in the process.
"...I hate you."
"No you don't." His voice is singsong in intonation and sweet and he's right because you love him and it hurts...god, it hurts how much you love someone you can't have. Someone you see every day, someone who is so deeply ingrained in your life that removing him would be like carving a hole into your own chest.
You just sit and glare at him, even as a heavy sort of sadness hits, as he pulls up into one of the parking bays for collecting passengers.
It's okay that he's just your friend, you remind yourself as you get out of the car. It's okay because he's the best friend you could ask for, he's here at 6.45 am in the morning to collect your parents from the airport, not because he was asked or because he had to, but because he wanted to. You can live with loving him in silence, so long as you always have him around.
"I think they're over this way, probably, near gate 1?" You're just getting your bearings, trying to figure out roughly where your parents will come out at after they find their things from baggage claim when you hear it.
"My baby!" The squeal of a middle aged woman who hasn't seen her daughter in far too long pierces the air. You barely have time to brace yourself for impact before your mother is wrapping you up in a gigantic hug and pressing as many kisses to your face as possible, you know without a doubt her signature mauve lipstick is smudged all across your skin.
Your father stands behind her, rolling his eyes in amusement but the smile he gives you is no less warm, "Hey there, princess."
"Hi, mum, hi, dad," You pull yourself free from your mother just long enough to get a long awaited hug from your father, big and warm and so familiar that you almost feel like crying. How long has it been since you last hugged your dad? Half a year? Nine months? Longer? You sometimes don't realise how much you miss something until you get it back.
When you turn back around your mother is already pulling Quinn into a hug that he accepts, if a tad awkwardly, his hands patting her on the back like he's not quite sure how hugs work.
She has his face in her hands before you can intervene, overly familiar and friendly as she grins up at him like he's made her day just by existing. "You must be Quinn, Y/N's boyfriend..."
"Oh, he's n-" You're pretty sure your eyes bug out of your head, startled by the suggestion because at no point in the last few years of living in Vancouver had you ever called Quinn your boyfriend. Ever.
You're cut off by Quinn who's grinning at you wickedly over the top of your mother's head like he's just been giving the greatest Christmas present he could ever ask for and in that moment you know...you know that he is going to make your life very difficult with this tiny piece of information.
"Yeah, hi, nice to meet, the boyfriend, that's me." God, he wishes it was true. There's nothing more he wants in that moment than to be able to say to your mom that you are 100% his girlfriend, but he can't...he can, however, enjoy the roleplaying while it lasts. He can't really stop himself, not when you look so aghast at your mother calling him your boyfriend, not when he can use this to tease you for at least the next 30 years. He grew up with 2 brothers, sue him for taking advantage of the situation.
"Quinn!"
"What? Am I not allowed to call myself your boyfriend anymore?" He sidles up to you, slipping out from your mother's grip to pull you into his side. His arm rests naturally over your shoulder, yours finding his waist, and it is natural...because you've done this a million times before. The kiss he presses to your hair is new though, different and as much as your mum clearly believes the ruse, you can see your father just looks amused. Something tells you he knows this is all an act, but he finds it enjoyable to watch. Typical. No support from him when you need it most. Dads.
"Oh, she's just grouchy in the mornings, has been ever since she was a baby!" Your mother looks at the two of you with such pride that you're certain her heart actually might break when she finds out Quinn isn't actually your boyfriend. You've never seen her look so happy with your choice in a man before and you're certain she won't be able to cope when you have to inevitably tell her that it was either a) a lie or b) that Quinn just wasn't the guy for you (another lie just to make your life more complicated).
"Mum!"
"Oh don't worry, I know just how grouchy my baby can be in the mornings." This time he presses a kiss to your cheek and when he does, you hiss lowly in his ear, 'I'm going to kill you.' and Quinn can't help but laugh at you, biting his lip at how much fun he's having riling you up.
"Here let me take your bags, Mrs Y/L/N," Quinn's bending down before your mother can even begin to protest, her carry on backpack being slung over his shoulder and pulling up the handle of her suitcase to wheel it behind him.
"Oh, you don't have to, Quinn!"
"I insist." He knows he's making it harder on you, can see the look you give him because he's just going to make your mother fall in love with him. But, even as he enjoys riling you up, he was also raised right and he's not letting your mother carry her own bags.
Your mother hangs back with you while your father and Quinn start walking ahead with the suitcases. She slips her arm through yours walking with you to keep up, as she does so she does a very bad attempt at whispering. The sort of whispering that means you know Quinn can hear every word and is probably enjoying it immensely.
"He's such a gentleman..."
"Yeah, a real gentleman." You mutter sarcastically, watching the way his shoulders rise and fall in a silent laugh that he's no doubt doing his best to swallow down.
"Don't be grumpy, he's just being sweet on you. You should be glad for such a loving boyfriend..." Your mother scolds you before raising her voice back to normal, Quinn and your father slowing down slightly to help keep the four of you together, "So, Quinn, my daughter tells me you're a hockey player?"
"Yeah, you talk about me, baby?" Quinn's grin is wide, and you can't help the warmth that fills your entire face because you can't actually deny it. You talk about Quinn all the time, he's your best friend and whenever your mother phones, you inevitably talk about him. Whether it was a game of his you went to or a coffee place you'd visited together or gala he'd invited you to. Maybe, you talked about him too much? Maybe, it was obvious in the way you talked about him that you loved him? Maybe that's why your mother had made such a large assumption about your relationship status. Maybe this was your fault, why wouldn't she assume you were dating?
"She talks about you all the time. Quinn this, Quinn that...did you know that Quinn did this today and broke this record?"
"Mum..." You groan out, looking to your dad for help but all he does is shrug his shoulders at you, amusement bright in his eyes. Even if he could do something you know he wouldn't because he's clearly enjoying your torture.
Quinn can't help it, the tables seem to reverse. You're embarrassed still, but now he is too, bright red in the face, ears flushed the colour of a fire engine and a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. All because you talk about him to your parents...you talk about him when he's not around...he feels like a twelve year old, giddy because his crush smiled at him for the first time.
"I play for the NHL."
"Vancouver Canucks, wasn't it?" Your mother asks as the four of you step out into the cold Canadian air, her attention making Quinn squirm and you smile, enjoying the discomfort being swapped around for a moment.
"Yeah, I'm the captain of the team." He smiles at your mother awkwardly as he opens the boot of the car and starts to pile in the suitcases, organising them in just the right way that they fit without hassle.
Your father chimes in as he lifts his own suitcase into the back, Quinn helping him shove it back further, "That's impressive, I used to play field hockey myself, never got out of the amateur league but got a few bruises in my time. You had an injury recently right?"
You still remember phoning your mum to talk about it, at first worried and then over time growing more and more frustrated with how sullen Quinn was being. He'd grown restless from not being able to play hockey and you'd been his distraction, a distraction that had grown fed up with his moping no matter how much you loved him.
"I've had a few this year, most recently my hand." He raises his braced hand, the brace a point of annoyance to him at this point in time. He was itching to be done with it, but put up with it because it meant he could still play hockey at the moment.
"Oh, you shouldn't have been carrying my bag then, Quinn!" Your mother fusses over him, flapping about as if she might have a miracle cure for his hand injury.
"Honestly, it's fine! It looks worse than it is, I promise. I wouldn't get away with it otherwise, this one would kill me." He nods his head at you as he closes the boot, opening one of the backdoors for your mother to slide inside.
"Damn right I'd kill you, I cannot take more days of you moping that you can't play hockey and that you're bored despite my amazing company."
"You know I enjoyed spending time with you, sweetheart...but..."
"But, you can't live without hockey, yeah, I know..."
He follows you round to the passenger side door, opening it for you like a gentleman and letting you slide inside. You find yourself enjoying the attention even as you catch your mother's eye in the rear view mirror, a little smirk reaching her lips as she watches Quinn buckle you in. Something he does from time to time when he's feeling particularly sweet...because he was a good friend.
"So, Quinn, how did you meet our daughter? I'm not sure she ever mentioned it?"
The entire ride home is filled with your mother peppering Quinn with questions, encouraging him to talk more and more about your 'relationship'. Everything from when you first met to the first date you went on (which Quinn told her was the first time he took you ice skating, you were under the impression that that was a friendly family skate event and most certainly not a date).
The conversation lulls while you set your parents up in your spare bedroom, helping them settle themselves and showing them around your apartment. They hadn't ever seen it in person and they spent half the time cooing over your choices, the photos of family and friends on the wall, the ones of you and Quinn, as well as your mother checking your fridge and telling you to buy more vegetables.
It's as you're sitting down to a breakfast of pre-bought croissants and pain au chocolat that your mother restarts her question. This time even more invasive than the first.
"So Quinn, when did you know?"
"Mm? Know what?" Your best friend looks at your mother with furrowed brows, taking a sip of his orange juice and almost choking on it when she proceeds to clarify her question.
"When you loved my daughter."
There's a long beat of silence where your eyes stay fixated on your plate, watching your own hands intently as you spread Nutella inside your croissant, far too focused on that to be anything casual or calm. You're certain you're going to be sick because he doesn't love you but you love him and your poor mother is so oblivious and this...this is going too far, it feels like it's gone too far.
"Expected answer or honest answer?"
"Honest answer."
"The second week I knew her." Your head snaps up with a start only to find Quinn looking directly at you, green eyes crinkling softly at the corners. "She heard that I had been hurt on the ice the night before and she stormed round my apartment with a bunch of food, medicine and a blanket. Spent the whole day looking after me and making me watch 90s movies I hadn't watched growing up. No one outside my family had ever done that for me before...it made me realise that if I wasn't already in love, I would be pretty quick." You almost believe him, the way he looks at you, the way he speaks so softly. Almost.
You look down at your plate, tears welling in your eyes because you know he doesn't mean it. He's spinning a yarn for your mother and it hurts that he would go that far when you both know this is all some ruse he's decided to pull. You swallow hard and take a bite of your croissant, refusing to look at him for the rest of breakfast.
You won't meet his eyes until he goes to leave after breakfast, your parents hanging back so you can say goodbye to your 'boyfriend'.
"Mind if I come over after dinner? We could watch a movie with your parents?"
"Quinn..." You go to challenge him on his behaviour today, but the words won't come out.
"What?"
"Nothing...uh, sure, after dinner?"
"After dinner, baby."
You want to tell him off as he says it, as he presses a kiss to your cheek so your parents can see because you aren't his baby and he's hurting you. He's hurting you without realising it because you so desperately want to be his baby. But, you don't. You just watch him walk away down the corridor of your apartment building and out of sight before getting ready to show your parents around Vancouver for the day.
You try to put the whole thing out of your mind throughout the day, showing your parents the sights of Vancouver, including the arena...but it's hard when they keep bringing Quinn back up and asking about your feelings. They probe you for half the day and it's emotionally exhausting balancing the truth with the half-truth, even more so knowing that they're going to be just as disappointed as you are when they realise your relationship with Quinn is just a sham, a charade, a fake.
Eventually they seem to grow bored of talking about the topic, however, and dinner goes relatively smoothly, you taking them to a nice restaurant Quinn had shown you back in your first couple of months in Vancouver. Even that feels bittersweet though, filled with memories of the two of you dining together. You can't help but feel like the whole issue needs addressing as you get them back home and pop a film on ready for Quinn's arrival.
When he arrives he continues the act as if it isn't one, greeting you at the door with a kiss to the cheek and pulling you down onto the loveseat opposite your parents, curling one arm around your shoulders and urging you to lay against him, your cheek pressed into his chest. In some ways it's familiar, not an act, because you cuddle for movies all time, completely platonically of course, but both of you are touchy feely and it's always been part of your dynamic. In others though? The way he talks to you, the pet names, kisses to your hair, that is all new, all a way to show your parents he's the 'doting boyfriend', even though he's not your boyfriend at all.
Your parents lap it up, every now and then you catch them smiling at each other and then over to the two of you and you can't help but feel heavy with it. With this feeling of unrequited affection. You love Quinn, you've known that for a while now, but it was easy to be around him because you didn't need to address it. You could love him in silence and from afar...you had never considered how hard it would become when what you wanted most was being dangled in front of you like a carrot on a string.
Quinn has a similar dilemma going on in his own head. He's always known he loved you more than a friend, even when you barely knew each other...had he been braver he would have asked for your number for a date that first day, not so that he could show you around a new city as a 'friend'. But, he'd been a coward and since then he'd continued to be. He enjoyed every ounce of affection he got from you, every hug, every cuddle, ever time you held his arm at an event, all while feeling like that had to be enough...now he's had more? He's not sure it'll ever be enough, he's greedy for you. Greedy for your affection, your attention, greedy in the way he wants to keep kissing you, keeping calling you sweet names and greedy for the way you grow bashful. Greedy for more than just being your friend...he's given himself a taste of what life could be like and now he can't forget it.
It's halfway through the movie, your legs slung over Quinn's lap and his fingers carding through the ends of your hair when your parents stand with a groan from the other couch.
"Princess?" You lift your head to look at your father, who's stretching out his back after sitting for so long.
"Yeah, dad?"
"Your mother and I are getting a little tired...we're going to go to bed, if that's alright with you two?"
"Of course, don't let us keep you up." Quinn confirms your own thoughts as well, telling your parents it's not problem at all. It's all so...so domestic.
Your dad presses a kiss to the top of your head, as does your mother, before yourself and Quinn wish them goodnight. You wait until you see the door to the spare room start to close, not waiting for it to do so fully, before turning to Quinn. You pull out of his arms, the missing warmth of you an immediate loss to him, but it has him sitting up straight and taking you seriously.
Your face is sullen, sad, eyebrows pinched, mouth turned down into a frown and he's alarmed to see that your eyes are glassy like you might cry.
"Why on earth would you let my parents think we're dating? Why would you tell my mother you're in love with me?" You're certain you're going to cry, angry, frustrated and sad all in one. Lovesick because it hurts to hear him tell your mother he was in love with you when you know he's not.
"Why not?" He frowns at you, hands reaching out but you keep just out of reach as if touching him is the last thing you want. You've never shied away from Quinn's touch and he recoils, breathing a little heavier out of anxious worry that he's upset you, that he's fucked this up. Maybe you've been uncomfortable with his touch all day? Has he been making you uncomfortable all day? Is he one of those guys?
"Because we're not dating and you're not in love with me, Quinn. My mother is certain we're going to get married and I'll stop being an old spinster! You're getting her hopes up." The unspoken words lay heavy on your tongue, 'you're getting my hopes up', you want to say.
"Who said I didn't love you? Who said I didn't want to marry you?" The look he gives you isn't the cheeky one he's had all day, it's not joking or silly, it's dead serious. He scoots closer to you, but doesn't reach out for you this time. But, Quinn can't help but want to be close to you, to be drawn into your orbit, into your gravity.
"Quinn..."
"What?"
"You're being mean..." Your voice is filled with tears, wet, pathetic sounding and you choke back a sob as a tear falls down your cheek because he's being so mean...he can't dangle that in front of you, everything you've ever wanted, not when he doesn't actually mean it.
He realises in that moment that you don't believe him. You believe he's spent the entire morning and evening telling lies, saying that he loves you when he doesn't, that you're that important to him when you aren't. You believe he's being mean because you don't believe him, that the tears are because you think he's holding this thing, this idea out in front of you, only to snatch it away.
"Look, I said a lot today...but none of it was a lie." He can't help himself this time, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping away that pesky tear that shouldn't have been there in the first place. It's the way you lean into his touch that brings him a sense of confidence, of relief, you wouldn't do that if you didn't want him touching you.
"I know our first date wasn't a date, just a stupid family skate I was too scared to ask you out to as more than just a friend. I wish it had been a date and I wish I had been brave enough from the start to tell you I didn't just want to be your friend."
"Quinn..."
"And I was telling the truth...when your mother asked me when I fell in love with you." He tugs you closer, until your legs are back over his lap and your practically sitting on top of him, arms wrapping around your lower back and pulling you closer. The way he stares up at you is nothing short of reverent.
"Q..."
"The second week we knew each other you came to look after me when no one else did...and I knew...I knew that I was going to love you and that I was stupid for not asking you out in the first place...but I was...I was too scared to say anything. I didn't want to lose my new friend...I thought..." He hesitates, tongue coming out to nervously brush against his bottom lip, capturing your attention like a magpie with a shiny button.
"You thought?" You're whispering, quiet as if to speak any louder might scare him, might disrupt this little bubble you've found yourself in.
"I thought having a tiny bit of you...any bit, was better than having none of you at all." Quinn confesses, shifting you on his lap as your legs fall either side of his hips until you're so close your noses brush.
"Is it?"
"It was...for a bit..." It's self-deprecating, sardonic, like he finds himself ridiculous, foolish.
"And now?"
"And now I've had a taste of what it's like to love you, to be able to kiss you and hold you...call you mine...and now I'm greedy and it's not enough...Baby, it'll never be enough."
"You...you love me?" It's like even after all of this, everything he's said, every tender touch, you still don't quite believe him. It's hard to believe that everything you've ever wanted is sat in the palm of your hand just waiting for you to capture it, to take it. That your feelings, the ones you believed were unrequited for two years, were actually returned all along.
"I love you...and...um, if...if you'll have me, maybe I could be your real boyfriend this time?" His face is bright red, so warm to the touch when you're fingers reach out to trace his cheeks that you're surprised he doesn't combust.
"I'd like that...I...I love you too,"
"So...I'm your boyfriend?" He says it like he doesn't quite believe it, the beauty mark on his cheek moving as he grins up at you giddy like a little kid getting his first bag of sweets.
"You're my boyfriend." You press a kiss to that beauty mark without overthinking it...because you can now, because now it's not a lie when you tell your parents he's your boyfriend, because now you're allowed to kiss him and hold him and tell him how much you love him.
"Fuck...that sounds good."
He can't help but just stare up at you from where you're straddling his lap. The healthy glow to your skin, the soft smile directed down at him, the way you seem to curl into him like you're not close enough even now. God, you're beautiful and you're his...you're finally his and he's yours and...and he can't comprehend that the thing he wanted to happen for so long has finally happened. What had he been scared of all this time? He could have been with you for two years, instead he'd squandered it out of fear...
"Quinn?" Your voice is soft, melodic, so so sweet that almost closes his eyes at the sound.
"Yeah, baby?"
"Kiss me?" You whisper as if it's shameful to ask, as if you've asked for something more sordid than a simple kiss...your first kiss together at that.
"Anything for my girl."
He's gentle in the way he cups your neck and jaw with one large hand, thumb pressing just below your jaw bone as he pulls you in. There's nothing rushed about the way Quinn presses your lips together, the smooth glide of his bottom lip against your top. Even the way his tongue brushes against your lip until you open up for him is slow, steady, adoring. You can't help the way you sigh into him, fingers gliding through dark chocolate strands, eyes closing shut with the sense of home, sense of relief that you find in him.
The two of you lose yourselves in each other, slow kisses, wandering hands, nothing too extreme, but a new found intimacy that you're finally allowed to indulge in before you curl back up together to watch the remainder of the movie. Watch being a loose term for what you're really doing.
"Did you know?" Your father turns his eyes away from the scene outside the spare bedroom, the way you're curled up in Quinn's arms like you were always supposed to be there. Neither of you realising that the spare bedroom door had never fully closed, both your parents eavesdropping like Samwise Gamgee.
"That they weren't actually together, dear?" Your mother looks sly and devious as she looks over at her husband. The face of the woman he loves, but also fears in equal measure.
"Yes."
"Of course I knew...but I figured they could both use a shove in the right direction, I mean, look at them?" Your parents both turn to watch the two of you, the way you curl up together on the couch is the epitome of young love. There's no real watching of a movie happening, instead Quinn's fingers are rubbing circles into your shoulder, while you look up at him lovingly from where you're curled against his chest. Every now and then he dips his head down to press a kiss against your forehead, and each time you giggle, face pressing briefly into his neck. The giddy feeling of a new, fresh love, making film watching the least of your interests.
"They just needed a little push." Both your parents smile at each other even as your father playfully scolds his wife, "You're a meddlesome woman."
"And you love me for it."
"Yes, yes I do."
Perhaps it took a bit of meddling, a fake misunderstanding, but that would be their little secret...at least for now. Your mother was rather looking forward to seeing you squirm in the future as you reveal the truth, that you hadn't actually been dating Quinn as long as you said. Yes, she certainly was happy to help, but she also was still your mother and lying to your mother was certainly not the done thing. A little squirming was good for you sometimes, but first, she'd let you enjoy the fresh bloom of love...and she'd go easy on you.
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in sickness and in health, ch. 1 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader
ah, look at that. have some omegaverse angst inspired by this post here <3 if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!
well, this turned out to be miles longer than i expected it to. there's not really a solid ending, so let me know if you want more! have so much fun getting your heart ripped out <3
word count: 4,764 masterlist ao3 link
Three years ago, you and Simon got married. It wasn’t anything flashy or big - fuck, how could it have been when you didn’t even love each other? But, military law forbade an unmated omega from joining the ranks, and Simon was seen as a wild-card alpha, too headstrong and violent, too hard to control. So, the brass laid out an ultimatum: mate, get married, or be discharged. Both you and Simon had worked too hard for too long to get where you were, so discharge was entirely off the table. There was no courting, no dates, and the wedding, if you could call it that, was little more than signing papers - three signatures on a thick piece of A4 government paper, one from you, one from Simon, and one from your witness, Captain John Price. You didn’t even exchange rings or vows. It took less than five minutes.
After all was said and done, you and Simon went back to your lives. Sure, you were respectful to one another, and you spent one or two heats and ruts together, but you both maintained a distance away from each other. Neither of you were thrilled with the idea of being tied down, of being mated. The mating bond between you felt more like the neck of a too-tight sweater than it did a comfort, feeling each other’s emotions more of a chore than something you looked forward to. Sure, you worked well together, fluid and deadly like a well oiled M2 on the field. Always had. But there was a stark difference between working well together, and being mated.
So that’s how you ended up here. You had lost twenty pounds. Your skin was sallow and pale, your eyes sunken in. When you looked in the mirror, you could count your ribs, the knobs of your spine, even when they were hidden under the bruises that bloomed across your sickly skin.
You had thrown yourself into work, and when there was no work, you were challenging any living thing to go for a round with you on the sparring mat. But, you were weak; the bond sickness sapped all of your energy and strength faster than you could ever hope to replenish it. Your scent, which was once a warm and spicy caramelized vanilla, now smelled like sugar burnt to the bottom of a pot - acrid and rotted. You were dying, and you knew it. But your pride was far too great to ever go crawling back to Simon, the very man who caused the sickness to infiltrate every cell of your being. It had been months of this torture. Simon, your alpha, had all but abandoned you. You had been without his touch, his scent, anything and everything that the very base instincts of your omega craved from its mate for far too long. It didn't matter to your omega that this marriage, this mating bond was nothing more than a way to keep both you and Simon in the service. Instincts couldn't be fought with fact, and now you were reaping the consequences of the neglect of the bond. You had thought bond sickness was a myth, a fear-mongering tactic to keep alphas in line. However, you were now aware that there was far more truth than you could have ever imagined to that story that is told.
You had seen the concerned looks of your team as they watched you haunt the halls of the base like a spectre. Soap had started to bring you chocolates and drinks, anything in hopes to get you to eat. Gaz took a different approach, always being the one to take you up on your sparring requests, the beta knowing that at the very least he could be gentle with you while still giving you an outlet. The Captain had made sure to keep you off any truly strenuous missions and tasks, mainly relegating you to the medbay or to training recruits. If you were any stronger, you would be pissed, but right now you took it as a blessing. At least he hadn’t kicked you off the team for your weakness. But Simon? Simon was nowhere to be found. He continuously was the first volunteer for the most dangerous missions, keeping him away from base for weeks to months at a time. When he came back bloody and bruised, he would avoid the medbay like the plague, only coming in to get fixed up by another combat medic when he knew Soap or Gaz had forcefully pulled you away. If you two happened to be walking in the same hallway, Simon would duck out of your sight without even so much as a word. You had long since given up on running after him.
So color yourself surprised when you were standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom and the screen of your phone lit up, a text from Simon blaring on the too-bright screen. You had every intention of ignoring it, but your pride was no match for the dying ache of your omega.
Come to my quarters.
The text was simple. Demanding, even. And all it did was make you angry.
You quickly tugged on a pair of sweats and forced a tank top over your bruised and feverish skin. You thought briefly for a moment about tugging a sweatshirt on over your mottled skin, but, fuck it, let him see all that he has done to you. Maybe he would give you the one blessing you had hoped for over the last few months of neglect, and finally sever the bond between you.
You trudged through the hallways of the base, every soldier you passed giving you a wide berth. You were certain you looked like death froze over, and the rage-filled expression set over your brows and your lips certainly did not help. When you reached his door, you didn’t even bother to knock. You just shoved your copy of the key in the door and slammed the door open.
Simon barely even looked up from where he was lounging on the bed. His shirt was off, a rare sight, even for you, but even more shocking was the fact that he wasn’t wearing his mask. He didn’t look much better than you - his once-bronzed skin paled, his own scars raised and reddened, and he had a poorly bandaged bullet wound wrapped, the white medical wrapping blossoming with a red mark. Pulled stitches, definitely.
“Close the door,” came the rough demand as his arms lazily opened in an invitation to lay with him. “And c’mere.”
You, in all of your rage, just stood stockstill in the still-open doorway. Even as your omega side cried to jump into his arms and let his scent and his touch wash away all the pain, you refused with a defiant jut of your chin. You didn’t know why he had called you here, and the only thing your mind could conjure up is that Price, or Laswell, or fuck, even Soap, had sat him down and forced him to do this. And you wanted nothing to do with this or with him if he actually was not trying to change.
“I don’t want your pity. And I sure as hell don’t want your affection just because Price told you that you had to fix me,” you replied, your voice shaking with weakness and pain, even as you tried your damndest to keep it steady, strong.
Simon growled, the sound of an alpha not used to not getting his way, as he rolled onto his side to look at you more squarely. His arms were still open, but you could see the way his muscles clenched, his own anger rising. “It ain’t about pity. It’s about basic biology,” he bit out, the words short and angry.
That made you laugh, the sound short and sardonic before it morphs into a cough that shakes your entire, frail being. You brought a shaking hand up to wipe your lips before you fixed him with a glare hard enough to freeze an ocean. “Basic biology?" you mocked. “Yeah, for sure. But it’s also basic biology to not let bond sickness even be a worry for your omega, but looks like you fucked that one right up, didn’t you!?”
Your words made something in Simon snap. Your rage, the vitriol, clenched his hands into fists as he quickly swung his powerful legs over the edge of the bed, crossing the space between you in the space between one of your breaths and the next. He was in your face now, just enough space between you to not be pressing completely against you. You averted your gaze, knowing that if you didn’t, you might continue yelling at him, or worse.
“Look at me,” he ordered, using the same tone he does on the battlefield. His hands are still clenched into fists, but they are shaking. Why?
That tone made your eyes harden, the instincts of a hard-bred soldier kicking in. Even through the fraying of your bond, your sickness, you knew that voice. You listened when given an order. You allowed your head to loll back to look up at him, but your expression was still set in that same hard glare. You weren’t on a battlefield. You were on base, far away from the acrid explosions and hot gunpowder. How dare he pretend otherwise? “Why?” you bit back in response. “This isn’t some tactical decision, Simon. Don’t treat me like one of your fuckin’ rookies.”
He took a sharp breath through his teeth, obviously trying to control himself. He knew you were weak, the bond sickness taking so much more from you than it ever did him. But your defiance, your spirit despite the bond sickness was making his alpha go crazy. Even with you glaring up at him, he stared down at you with fierce eyes as his hands gripped your hips, shoving you out of the doorway and pressing you against the wall right beside it. Taking one hand off of your hip, he shut the door with a resounding click before his grip, and his attention came back entirely to you. “I ain’t treatin’ you like a goddamned rookie,” he growled out, his cold brown gaze entirely focused on your own broken one as one hand slams into the wall by your head. Even through your rage, he can see it. Feel it. He had broken you. And that knowledge caused his alpha to writhe in pain. “I’m treatin’ ya like my fuckin’ omega.”
As he caged you in, growled those words at you, your own expression hardened. Your lips curled up to reveal your smaller omega fangs, a low growl of your own reverberating from your chest as your hands clenched into fists. It’s hard to ignore the sheer size difference between the two of you as he towers over you, his head dipped low to keep your attention. However, that did nothing to stop your rage, in fact, it increased it tenfold.
“Oh, right. I forgot. Being your omega means less than being one of your rookies, silly me.”
You knew the second the words left your mouth that you just opened a Pandora’s box. You saw it in the way his eyes instantaneously darkened, in the way his hand left the wall before you could even blink, his fingers crushing your jaw between them in a bruising grip, forcing your head back against the wall as he brought his face ever closer to yours. However, as his face got closer, you could see the glint of something else in his eyes. Triumph. His alpha was revelling in watching you snap and get fiery again. It was a victory, in his mind, to see you able to be so angry after the bond sickness had taken so much from you. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. “I know that attitude of yours will always be there, but careful.”
His words sent another wave of anger through you, and as he forced your head back, you jerked your neck, snapping your teeth at him, your small omega fangs glinting in the low light of his quarters. It was a clear message. Fuck the bond sickness, he had no right to touch you right now. You did not forgive him, and he has to work to even begin to earn that, and if he won’t? You would dissolve the bond without him, whether or not it risked your life.
“Don’t sweetheart me,” you growled out, glaring up at him even as the bruising grip of his fingers squished your cheeks together, slurring your words. “Not after everything.”
His alpha instincts flared again, the desire to force you into accepting his help clear as his eyes flashed in irritation at your anger. He pressed you further into the wall, his body now flush against yours as he snarled right back. “Then do something about it,” he challenged. “Get mad. Fight me. Let it all out. But, you’re not leaving this room until you let me fix this.”
As much as you hated it, hearing Simon’s permission gave you the ability to let it all out. No matter how much you wanted to pretend that you were unaffected by him, the knowledge that he wanted you to fight, wanted to fix this broken bond between you, allowed you to finally and truly get all of the anger out, and maybe, just maybe, give the bond a chance to heal.
And so you did. Your body jerked against his, your sallow cheeks flushing red as you bared your omega fangs and growled at him again. Your eyes held the faintest spark of life, a far cry from what they used to have, but there’s something there now.
When Simon saw that spark, the faintest hint of his omega coming back, he chuckled gruffly, his eyes glinting with a possessive heat.
“Yes, spitfire. I want you t’ fight me. Hit me, scream, yell at me, tell me how shit of an alpha I’ve been. I don’t care. Just don’t. Hold. Back.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the dam inside of you broke. Months worth of anger, agony, grief, pain, and aching sadness flooded your veins like a hot, volatile drug. It felt like a living, breathing thing as the emotions curled around your lungs, your muscles, your heart. Tears pushed at your lash line, the aching pain making itself known through the rage.
You held his cold brown gaze for a moment, your eyes searching his. When all you saw in return was steely determination, you did the only thing you could think of. Before he could even move out of the way, you shut your eyes and cranked your head back as far as it would go, and drove your forehead straight into his nose. It wasn’t nearly hard enough to break it, but definitely hard enough to hurt and make the blood start flowing.
He staggered back from you, his hands coming up to cup his nose, but the alpha was far from angry. In fact, he was grinning, the blood pouring from his nose coating his lips and teeth. A low growl of approval rumbled from his chest as he stared at you, approval glinting in his eyes. “Good girl,” he muttered lowly, the praise slipping through so naturally.
As his praise washed over you, you felt your stomach flip. It shouldn’t feel that good. Not after the months and months of neglect so bad that you were literally dying. But, you couldn’t help the small ember of warmth that bloomed through your chest as that muttered praise of good girl flowed through your veins like a warm blanket settling over you.
But, you were still angry. And hurt. And countless other emotions that you couldn’t even begin to name, all just culminating into a neverending ache. And as you saw the blood marring the plush flesh of his lower lip, something inside of you snapped.
He had made his worst mistake. He had let go of you, and now you could truly fight.
You crouched down, using your smaller stature and power legs to kick your leg out, and you swept it across the ground, knocking the much-bigger alpha off of his feet. You watched as his massive frame hit the ground, shaking the walls, a bloom of satisfaction erupting in your chest. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins now, the only thing allowing you to move, and before he had the chance to become reoriented, you were on top of him, straddling his hips as you punched at his chest. Your tears of anguish were falling freely now, sobs breaking free with your yells.
“You have broken me! Broken! I used to be so strong, so happy, and you destroyed that! Ripped it away from me! All because you were too fucking caught up in your own shit, your own fucking fear, that you couldn’t even be half of the alpha you needed to be!”
Simon grunted in pain as his back collided with the cold, hard tile of his quarters, his hands automatically coming up to grab at your hips. Not to shove you off, no, but to keep you on top of him. He knew he deserved this. Every punch, every pointed word, every tear. It was his penance for all of the pain and agony he had put you through, even if it was ripping his heart to absolute shreds.
“I know, I know,” he growled softly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I did.”
You shook your head, tears and snot flying from the force. You were so angry, so hurt, but the adrenaline was quickly running its course, leaving behind only bone-deep exhaustion and pain. Your punches slowly weakened, until you were barely able to lift your hands. Instead, they came to rest on his bare chest, your omega claws digging sharply into the thick muscle that covered his chest, one of your hands digging directly over his heart, needing him to feel a fraction of the agony that coursed through your own.
“Don’t you agree with me! Don’t you dare! Gods, you do this to me for months, and you… you have nothing to say for yourself!? I tried! Tried to be a good spouse, a good omega! I tried to give you your space, to be unobtrusive, even though that killed my omega! And all I fuckin’ got in return is this fucking bond sickness that is killing me! Tearing me apart from the inside out!”
His body shuddered as your claws dug into his chest, his skin breaking under the tiny points. It hurt in every way that it could, but the tiny pinpricks of blood that welled around your claws were nothing compared to how he had hurt you. He knew that he deserved this, every inch of your wrath, of your anger, and the pain it brought for him. It was the least he could do - to bear this for you. But, Gods, it didn’t stop your words from tearing into his heart in a way your claws couldn’t even begin to touch.
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he repeated, his words thick with the guilt that was threatening to choke him. “And I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”
His apology broke what little strength you had left. The bond between you was fraying, seconds away from snapping completely, and you had never felt more lost. A sob broke free from your lips, the force of the sound causing your body to lurch forward. But, Simon was there. For once, he was there. His chest caught your head, your tears wetting his skin almost instantaneously as your claws scratched down his torso, leaving thin, raised red lines down his scarred skin.
He hissed softly in response to the pain, but he made no attempt to move, to shy away from it. You had completely given up on your ego, your omega so desperate for your alpha, no matter what he had done. But, you were still so hurt, your omega so wounded that you had no idea how you were going to come back from this.
“Just… just tell me why. Why did you do this? Why did you treat me like this?” you sobbed out into his chest, your sour, distressed omega pheromones wafting around him like a shroud of despair.
His alpha writhed in pain at your scent. It was wrong, so, so wrong, but he had done this. His neglect, his apathy, had taken his once strong, ferocious omega and reduced her down to this. He had never seen you like this. And he never wanted to again. He could feel the bond between you slipping between his fingers like shards of glass digging into his very being, and fear rose to take its place. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling your tiny, trembling form against him, his nose burying into your hair as he pressed a featherlight, shaking kiss into it. He swallowed harshly against the lump in his throat, his heart clenching in fear. In pain. In anger at himself. “I was a coward, love.”
You sobbed harder against his chest at his admission, shaking your head jerkily. Your body felt like it was freezing and burning up at the same time, as the frayed edges of the bond dug into you like poisonous thorns. You could feel your mind shattering, your heart stuttering as the bond sickness continued to take hold. You were dying, and you knew it. But at this point, you would almost take death over the amount of pain you were in. “That’s not a good excuse,” came your shaking reply, the words thick with tears and agony, but they were strong with conviction. “Tell me why, Simon. Tell me why, or break the godsdamned bond.”
The words that left your lips felt like they were suffocating the alpha. Break the bond. His arms tightened around you until you were completely pressed against him, and he could feel every shudder, every quiver in your weakening body. A low growl rumbles from his chest, the sound full of pain but also a desperate desire to comfort. He had to try - to even attempt to explain, even if he wasn’t sure it would do anything. But the thought of losing you without even trying made his heart shatter, his alpha howl in protest.
“Because I was afraid,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret and honesty as his knuckles ran across the knobs of your spine. That caused him more pain than you would ever know, feeling how you had atrophied from his neglect. How his dismissal, his abandonment had caused his once strong, beautiful omega, to waste away before his very eyes. “Afraid of getting caught up in you, in this. Of loving you, of giving you part of my heart. I didn’t know how to keep you safe. I didn’t think I was worthy of having something like that, like you. I still don’t.”
“Then break the bond,” you whimpered out, the pain of the bond sickness, of your own emotions, and what little of Simon’s you could still feel through the barest threads of the bond ricocheting through your body, reduced you to little more than a husk lying on top of Simon. Your heart was shattering along with the bond, the broken edges of each splintering in a way that made it hard for you to breathe. Your breath pushed and pulled achingly slowly through your chapped lips like broken glass, just another thing ripping your very being apart.
“If you can’t do this… I’ll… I’ll figure it out. The brass’ll let me stay, at least for a little bit. But, I can’t… I can’t keep doin’ this. ‘M not asking for love. ‘M not asking to be a real marriage, but I can’t be apart of a bond where ‘m not… where ‘m not bein’ taken care of. I can’t.”
Your words were slurring, little more than a broken and pain-filled whimper against his broad chest, and Simon could practically hear the way his heart shatters beneath you. He did this. He did this. And yet, the selfish part of him couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, no matter how much pain he had put you through. The alpha snarled as he wrapped his arms around your ever-weakening frame impossibly tighter, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t hold you tight enough, you’d slip away from him forever.
“No, baby, no,” he replied softly, but the words were filled with a growl of conviction, of promise. “I was stupid. I was so stupid, and I hurt you. Let me… let me fix this, okay? Please, baby. Lemme fix you. Just for right now.”
Simon was begging. You didn’t know if you had ever heard him beg before, but here he was, begging you to allow him the chance to fix you. Your exhausted, wounded omega perked up a bit at his conviction, but you couldn’t help but feel like this was far too little, far too late. “I… I don’t know, Simon. How can you… how can you fix this?”
The pained gasps between your words drove a stake of fear through Simon’s heart, his alpha whimpering painfully. He swallowed harshly against the ever-growing lump in his throat, as he knew that he had to be the pillar of strength. If he broke right now, there was no hope for you. His lips brushed against the top of your head as he inhaled your sour, rotted scent in despair, his hands running up and down your back in a vain attempt to soothe you.
“Let me… let me have a chance,” the alpha, your alpha, pleaded. “Please baby, let me fix this. I’ll do better, I promise. Gods, I’ll do anything. Just… just let me get you better, baby, please. And then, if you still want to break the bond, we can, okay? Just… I can’t lose you. I can’t let you die. Not like this. Never like this.”
You felt, more than heard, his words wash over you. You could feel your body failing, the bond sickness taking what little was left of you. Even with Simon’s touch, with his promises, you had a brief moment of clarity where you just knew that this still might be it, that the bond had been strained too far, the cavernous distance between the two of you still too great, that this bond sickness might still kill you, despite his promises to fix you.
You were so tired. So, so tired. The pain is too much, your eyelids too heavy, and it felt like what was left of your shattered heart wasn’t pumping nearly enough oxygen through your veins. You were teetering on the edge, and all you wanted to do was sleep.
“Just… just let me sleep. In here. With you. Please?” you mumbled, the words soft and slurred. Any fight, any pride you had just a few minutes ago was long gone, and if you were going to die, your omega wanted it to be right here, in your alpha’s arms, taken peacefully in your sleep. “I need… just, please, Si.”
Simon’s resolve shattered at the nickname that fell past your lips. He instantly sat up, gathering your frail, fragile body in his arms as he nodded, his own tears finally breaking free.
His fault. All his fault. Always his fault.
He quickly stood up, your body light (too light, too light) in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He was terrified. He could feel how slow your heartbeat was, how weak your body was, how slurred your words were. He shushed you softly, gently, but the sound warbled against his own tears.
“Shhh, shhh, baby. I got you. I got you. Just… just sleep, okay? I’ll be right here. Right here. Never leavin’ your side again. I promise. I’ll be right here when you wake up. Just sleep.”
He gingerly laid you on the bed, surrounding you with blankets and pillows, anything he could find that was drenched in his alpha scent, before his body came to blanket you. He couldn’t lose you. And he will keep his promise, even as his own silent tears fell down around your now-unconscious face. What’s that old saying? Oh, right. You never know what you have until it’s gone.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x reader au#simon riley fanfic#cod fanfic#ghost fanfiction#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#simon riley#alpha!simon riley#alpha!simon#omega!reader#a/b/o#a/b/o dynamics#tf141 omegaverse#omegaverse#omegaverse au#fake marriage#simon riley is really bad at emotions#bond sickness#angst#angst angst angst#in sickness and in health#starlit-writer
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Its been two weeks since the last earth-shaking explosion rattled the bunker my family has been holed up in during the war. The past three years have felt like a blur, a monotonous chant that I can't even remember the words to.
Most days consisted of mom quietly humming as she swept away the dirt, her hair seemingly becoming more gray and frazzled each time the bunker rumbled and dirt fell from the ceiling, extending the chore like a never ending loop. My younger brother spent most of his time playing through my old DS games, not like we had internet the moment the first bomb dropped. The first few weeks he would ask "How much longer" hourly and he seemed restless, complaining about the processed food and canned veggies we had to sustain on. As the weeks turned to months, eventually years he too became silent.
I remember my dad, explaining to Mom the action plan, helping us pack our emergency bags and sending us on our way. He told us he would see us soon, but I think we all lost hope within the first few months, even though my mom still tells my brother how Dad will be so happy to see us when we finally reunite on the surface
"This is different," I remember Dad's words as he looked up to the sky before seeing us off, "I promise you will be safe, I promise I will see you soon." With one last bear hug, off we went. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere after hours of driving Mom pulled off to the side of the road. The Pacific-northwest wilderness all around us.
"Where are we?" I looked up from my phone, immediately noticing the tears running down her cheeks, "...Mom?"
"We have to walk the rest of the way," she said, obviously trying to keep her voice from trembling. "Your dad has left markers, he told me I would recognize them."
She took a deep breath, "Grab your brother and your bags, I'll get the first aid kits and the rest of the supplies."
We got out and I opened the back seat, "Come on, Cam," unbuckling him from the car seat. He was so much smaller, only five when it all ended. "Time to walk!"
We trekked through the cold for what seemed like hours in one direction and then my mom stopped.
"There," she pointed at a pine off to the right, etched into it were to letters. "N + C" I immediately recognized mine and Cameron's initials.
As we walked towards it I could see Mom's eyes darting around, scanning quickly and taking in every detail of the area, "Nic, I need you to help me find-" she cut off as in the distance she points at another tree with the same initials, "There!" she started running, "Look for them, Nic, we need to go!"
We followed tree after tree for miles, and eventually came to a clearing with a large boulder in the middle. My mother has been a stay at home mom for as long as I can remember, but she began digging around the pine needles and dirt at the base of the rock, as if years of training were kicking in.
Finally with an "Aha!" and some tugging at the base of it, a small tremor began, a hatch lifted about twenty feet away.
"Nic, I know we haven't explained much to you at this point, but I need you to be strong, your fifteen now and I don't know how long we are going to be here." Mom looked both terrified and stern at the same time, "We will be here until Dad comes and gets us, there is a very big war that is about to happen. Do you understand?"
I looked into the shadows beyond the hatch, "Are we mole people now?"
A small wave of humor wiped across her face "Nic, this is not the time for jokes, but yes"
Ever since then the bunker has been home. We listened and waited, stocks of canned and dehydrated goods sustaining us as the ground shook around us day after day for years. When the first day came without a bomb being dropped I don't think any of us realized, after three days Mom put Cameron down for bed and motioned for me to follow her out of the small bunk room we shared.
"Its been days now, do you think its safe?" My voice was raspy, I couldn't remember the last time I spoke aloud. Weeks? Months?
"I-I don't know," she turned to me with same terrified stern look she had two years before. I realized the pressure we were under, and not just from being fifty feet below the surface. "We need to wait until your father-"
"Mom, when are you going to stop acting as if he survived? We need to figure this out." Did anyone else survive? Who won the war? How long do we wait.
"Nic, it is very important that we wait, your dad is a very resourceful man and if he said he will come to us then I believe him" She walked towards the ladder in the corner of the room and looked up from where we climbed down.
"How long?" I asked bluntly, "How long do we sit here hiding before we accept he didn't survive? Something up there has been shaking us out in the middle of nowhere for years" I start to realize the time we've spent in the dark, disconnected, "There are so many things that could be happening and we cannot guarantee anything!"
"Two weeks." she said, without looking away from the only way up. "I will wait two weeks, and if no more tremors we can go to the surface. I will go to the surface and check if its safe."
Here I am, two weeks later trying to sleep as anxiety rips through me and what is going to happen tomorrow when we wake up. Will it be safe? Is there anyone left? Slowly as I drift to sleep, these unanswered questions exhausting me I feel a small tug. No, not a tug, a lift, as if a small wave pulled me above water briefly. My eyes snap open and I look at the battery clock next to my bunk, its time.
I walk out and I see my mom standing in the main room, dressed as if she had somewhere to go for the first time in months, and she did.
"I'm going up," she said, "Watch Cameron and I'll be right back down." She picked up a small device off the kitchen table, turning it on made it click and whistle, then silence. "I need to see if we are in danger from radiation."
She grabs the metal ladder, her foot on the first rung, "If its safe, we need to hope the car is where we left it otherwise we will be walking for a while" she began to climb up into the darkness.
After about ten minutes when I heard the hatch opening echo down the tunnel and again I felt the tug, stronger this time. It felt as if I was standing in the ocean and a wave tried to lift me off of my feet, I felt a tingling sensation course though me and release as if shooting out of my fingertips. When I heard the hatch close the sensation almost immediately cut off, "Shit." I said aloud, thinking to myself it must be radiation. I grew more and more anxious as I heard Mom's steps get closer and closer to the bottom until she appeared from the dark.
"Its-" She paused, turning around her face looking like a mix of confused and stressed, "Its clear, no traces at all."
Then what was that feeling? I must've looked a certain way while thinking and Mom read me like a book.
"I don't know what the was when I opened the hatch, Nic, but you're right. We cannot sit and wait until our food supply is gone, we need to find help." She grabs our bags and sets them on the table, quickly gathering supplies. "Go get Cameron ready."
We gather everything and I get Cameron dressed, he asks a hundred questions I don't have the answer to and I just keep telling him we need to go back to the car. Finally, we get go up. Mom first, then Cameron, then me. Slowly making our way through the dark until Mom stops below the hatch. Our dimly lit abode below us looks like a small speck five stories below us.
"My arms hurt!" Cameron whines.
"Give me just a sec to-hah! Found it!" The hatch clicks and Mom pushes it open letting in a burst of light and fresh air. My body feels light again, a sudden rush pushes me and I feel like I'm going to shoot straight up like a cork in a bottle.
We crawl out and everything looks surprisingly familiar. The air feels crisp with a slight tinge of fall and wet pine needles to give me an idea of the time of year. The sensation continues to pull me upwards, I feel pressure building as if I'm a balloon being pushed under water. The tingling sensation feels as if it is concentrated on the tips of my fingers and I look down and-
"Mom, what's going on!?" I hold up my hand and as I do sparks begin to shoot from it, no pain only pressure.
"I-I don't know Nic, are you ok? Does it hurt?" She looks horrified, "Shake it off!"
I start shaking my hand, I feel tears welling up even though I don't feel hurt, just scared. The sparks fade. I look down at my hand and see light blue lines tracing along my veins and fading up my arm. I reach out and the outlines pulse as if alive. My hand is no longer shooting sparks and I move my fingers to make sure everything is ok. They meet friction when I move them, something that feels almost like my old guitar strings pushing against my fingers, a clump of chords in my hand when I ball it into a fist. I reach out slowly and run my index finger down as if to strum the invisible instrument, quickly with each passing chord, a faint blue line lights up as I move downward, one by one lighting up and fading fast behind.
I take a step forward, and besides the pressure inside my chest, there is nothing stopping me moving. I take a swing with my hand and like a harp, the faint chords appear vertically behind the motion, fading as quickly as they appeared.
A voice rings through my mind, a voice like music.
"You have a natural talent, you understand the magic coursing through you as a beautiful song waiting to be played"
"Who are you?!" I say aloud.
"Nic, who are you talking to?" Mom looks so scared, Cam looks up at me, his eyes bright with curiosity.
"Its been a long time since I have been awake in this world, so many voices, too many for me to handle. At last I can hear the music through all of the noise!"
"If you don't tell me who you are, I-I-" I stammer out, not knowing what I would do if the voice doesn't give me an answer.
"Calm down, child. I am not here to hurt you, in fact I am your savior, your muse. Soon you will understand, soon you will play such beautiful songs for me, you will compose symphonies for my orchestra. For I, child, am Mystra."
The magic weave is real, every human pulls from it. But the vast Ocean that is the weave is not infinite and as the human population rises the power one can pull from the weave becomes almost non existent. Earth just faced a apocalyptic event that wiped out 80% of humanity and you feel the weave
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Bridging the Gap (Lando Norris)
A look into the Norris family summer vacation
Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time since I posted one of these, hopefully I still know how to do it 🥲 A lot of changes have been going on at my job and I've been trying to adjust to all of it without loosing my sanity! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️
Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!
my masterlist
Cw: reader is 4 years older than Lando, media scrutiny
Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins
The low hum of the television filled the cozy apartment as you and Lando sat on the sofa, nestled comfortably under a soft blanket as his hands absentmindedly traced patterns on your thigh. Lately, it was one of your favorite pastimes - catching up on a show after a long week and simply enjoying each other's presence without having the world around you.
Life with Lando was unexpectedly delightful. His infectious laughter and zest for life were contagious, and even the most mundane days seemed brighter with him around, no matter how many clients you had that day or how much reading you had to do before their next sessions. At the beginning, you couldn't wrap your head around how the way your routines still laced together despite the seemingly different responsibilities, but you cherished the balance you shared.
"Do you have a busy day tomorrow?", your boyfriend asked.
"I have 8 clients, as two of them already cancelled because they're sick, but I managed to adjust the schedule and hopefully I have some time to go to the bank and see about my mortgage payments", you said.
"And in that rearranged schedule, is there a possibility of you spending the night here so we can wake up together before you go be a boss lady?", he wondered as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, softly kissing the skin there.
"I have to be in the office at before 10 am, Lan, I can't have a lie in", you reasoned.
"I have to be up at 7 am to go on a run with Jon, so neither can I", he smirked, knowing he had all the reasons to convince you to stay, "we can have some breakfast together before you leave me".
"I guess I have time to pop home, change and get to work on time", you reasoned, agreeing with his plans.
"I'm glad you think that because my next step was going to kidnap you for the night - I'm talking locking the doors and throwing away the keys", Lando spoke.
Your laughs rubbled as Lando squeezed you tighter against him, basking in the warm feeling on his chest of having you for the rest of the night.
.
A few weeks later, Lando told you Max and Pietra would be in Monaco for a week since they hadn't spent some time together in a while.
"Do you know how your week is going to be? In terms of your schedule I mean", Lando mused, holding your waist as you stirred the food in the pot.
"I had some people move around from their usual schedule, so the weekdays end late but I don't have many appointments on Friday and I have Saturday off", you spoke.
"That's good, means we can spend a nice long weekend together", Lando smiled, kissing your shoulder before resting his chin there, "I'm not sure of all the plans yet but it’ll be fun! And they’re eager to meet you", he grinned, optimism lighting up his face.
"I'm excited to meet them too", you spoke, despite the one looming shadow. The thought of meeting Lando’s close-knit circle always brought a tinge of anxiety with it. His friends were used to seeing him as the carefree poster child of single life - never missing a party or the chance to get a little drunk. Hell, the idea that Lando would rather stay in on a Friday night, watching his girlfriend cook them dinner after spending the afternoon waiting for her to finish her online sessions would baffle Max and all of his friends.
And though Lando never seemed to mind, the idea of them questioning your relationship because of your age gnawed at your insecurity. Even when you were younger, the party scene wasn't your thing and as the years passed, it certainly didn't become it. You were fine with Lando enjoying himself whenever he wanted to and never once objected to that, but feared that his friends would question it.
"There's something on your mind, I can tell that", Lando spoke softly, "would you like to share it with me?".
"It's just...", you tried, knowing he would be able to tell you were lying and knowing that sharing this with him could ease your fears.
"Doesn't have to sound pretty or polished, I just want to know what is on your head", he encouraged softly.
"Maybe they won't want to spend time with me? They're coming here to see you and spend time with you, and there's always the possibility that they might now want to spend time with me", you let it out.
"Why do you think that?", he continued softly.
"Because I'm not hard-core, adrenaline seeking fun!", you added.
"Lovie, the plans we have are just enough fun for everyone, I didn't to do anything too hard-core and they don't either, so we'll be good and have plenty of fun together, yeah?", Lando assured, turning you around and kissing your forehead.
"You are starting to have a way with words", you mumbled, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin in such a protective manner, like no harm in the world could get to you if he was near.
"I catch on a thing or two you say", your boyfriend mumbled, kissing your lips slowly.
"I have to take my lunch to the office tomorrow, I don't have time to come home", you mumbled more to yourself than anything, taking a tupperware box from the cupboards so you wouldn't end up without your packed lunch.
"Pack two of them and I'll meet you in the office", Lando said like it was nothing.
"Sorry, what?", you asked again, afraid you had misheard him.
"You can pack two of them to go and I'll meet you for lunch tomorrow so you don't eat lunch all alone", Lando suggested.
"You don't have to", you reasoned.
"I know I don't, but I want to", Lando smiled, "the next couple of days are going to be busy for me and I need to fill up on time with you so my heart won't miss you as much".
He was ever the charmer and you still blushed at his words, not used to this no matter how many times he did it.
"Fine, but you can't mess up the crayons this time! You left one of them on the floor and I saw my life flash before my eyes when I stepped on it and nearly fell! No funny business in my office!", you joked.
"Does that mean we can't play Jenga and talk about my feelings? How dare you do that to me, woman?", Lando dramatised.
.
The first night of the week Max and Pietra would be spending in Monaco arrived quickly, and while the full day of sessions certainly kept your mind away from all of it, you found yourself at the door of your boyfriend's apartment waiting for him to get it.
"Hello, beautiful", Lando greeted as soon as he saw you, kissing your lips before letting you in, "let me take these", he said as he grabbed your bag and your coat.
"Thank you, I'm sorry I'm a bit late but the last session ran a bit longer than I expexted", you apologised, smoothing over your jeans and checking how you looked in the mirror - after the day you had, you couldn't expect much but you were pleasantly surprised that your hair was still bouncy and forgoing makeup was probably a good idea because you would have smudged it by now.
"You look beautiful as always, Y/N", Lando grabbed your attention, "and don't worry, take out is late too so you don't need to feel bad", he assured, guiding you with him to the living room where the noise was coming from.
"Guys, this is Y/N", Lando announced as they both welcomed you warmly, quickly asking you questions and letting you join in, preparing a drink for you.
"I'm usually heavy handed, but this one is proper, Y/N", he offered you before you took a sip, "I can fix a different one though!".
"It's good, it's good - hits the spot very nicely", you smiled, taking another sip before engaging in conversation.
When the food arrived, Lando asked you to join him in the kitchen to help him plate everything up and bring it to the dining table, opting to use the door closest to it so it would be easier.
As you crossed rhe hallway, you overheard Max and Pietra talking.
“Do you think it works?”, Pietra asked, “I mean, they seem happy, but Lando’s… well, Lando".
Max shrugged, “He’s crazy about her. Age doesn’t matter, does it? But yeah, never thought he’d settle, at least not like this".
You felt a small knot form in your stomach, but before you could dwell on it, Lando appeared at your side, his familiar warmth instantly reassuring as he placed his hand on the small of your back, “You alright?” he asked, noticing the brief flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.
“Yeah", you smiled, deciding in that moment that the security you had together was worth navigating any doubts from others.
As the evening continued, you noticed Max and P exchanging skeptical glances across the table - they're were known for their protective nature over Lando, Max is his bestfriend, so they are particularly wary of anyone close to their beloved friend.
Over the clinking of silverware and hum of conversations, Max finally spoke up, his tone casual but inquisitive, "so, how’s it really going, being with a guy who practically lives on a racetrack?”.
You felt Lando's reassuring nudge beneath the table, prompting you to respond with honesty, "It's definitely something else. Racing is such a demanding world, but we find balance by making time for each other away from it all. So far, it has worked out well".
P leaned back, observing the dynamic between the you, "there must be a lot of pressure, especially with so many eyes watching your every move".
Lando chimed in before you could respond, "Y/N handles it like a champ. Honestly, she’s the calm in my storm", he said, his eyes filled with admiration for you. There wasn't a day that you didn't handle it gracefully, whether it was a fan wanting to take a photo or a reporter wanting to know more than you allowed.
Max and P exchanged another look, this time softer and less guarded - little by little, they began to see what Lando meant by his earlier assurance that you kept him grounded.
As dinner progressed, the conversation turned to shared stories, with Lando guiding the discussion to include moments from your relationship - your mutual love for travel, how you introduced him to the joy of quiet moments, and even shared a humorous tale of your early dates, laughter erupting when he recounted an incident involving mistaking your office with the one next to yours, Lando accidentally entering the lawyer's waiting room with a massive bouquet of flowers and passes to golf.
Max's initial skepticism gradually melted away as he watched you interact. Lando's attentiveness was unmistakable - how he would lean in to catch your words over the din of conversations, or how his eyes crinkled in genuine amusement at your stories. He noticed how effortless and natural your connection seemed, a seamless blend of companionship and partnership.
By the time dessert came around, Pietra seemed convinced, "Alright, alright. I can see what everyone’s been talking about. You both really seem to understand each other in a way that's rare".
"You say that like we don't!", Max complained.
"Shut it, Max, you know what I mean", she mumbled.
Feeling the warmth of acceptance flood the room, Lando laid his hand over yours on the table, grinning with relief and contentment, "Told you she was amazing,” he said, playfully raising his eyebrows.
Max chuckled, raising his glass, "Okay, I admit defeat, I'm not sure we are like this!".
It was in that moment that you realized, the whispers of doubt that had once lingered were no match for the clarity of Lando’s affection. Together, you were creating a narrative all your own, one that defied stereotypes and embraced your unique bond.
.
As the days passed after the gathering, the glow of being surrounded by Lando’s friends began to fade, replaced by the nagging unease that had settled in your mind. You found yourself replaying the conversations from that night, the laughter, the glances, and especially Max's comment, which you still couldn’t quite shake off despite the way the night ended.
One evening, after a long day at work, filled with sessions and schedule arrangements thanks to the flu season, you sat on the sofa, scrolling through social media.
Your heart sank as you stumbled upon a headline featuring Lando. The article speculated about his relationships and how he was often deemed the ultimate bachelor, writing that they believed he wasn't about to change his ways. The more you read, the harder it became to ignore your worries.
Later that night, Lando arrived from his photoshoot, his laughter echoing as he stepped through you door. He instantly brightened the room with his presence, but you struggled to muster so much as a smile.
“Hey! Long day?”, he asked, tilting his head slightly, concern etched across his features as he took a good look at you.
“Just tired", you replied with a half truth. As you settled down, you felt the weight of the unspoken words pressing on your chest, knowing that sooner or later they would find their way out.
“Is everything okay?”, Lando probed, sensing the shift in your mood. Even when you had a bad day, the reception he got wasn't like this.
You hesitated, your thoughts swirling, Do you ever think about what people say… about us?”.
Lando paused, confusion washing over his face, "What do you mean?”.
“I don’t know,” you sighed, looking down, "Like, the way the media talks about you. Or how your friends might see us. What if they don’t accept me? They might think I’m not right for you… for your image".
Lando’s expression shifted from confusion to concern, “Why would you think that?”.
“Because it’s true!”, you almost spat, frustration bubbling to the surface, "You’re this young, popular and successful Formula One driver, and I’m just… well, me. What if they think I’m just an older woman trying to latch onto your fame? What if they don’t see how happy we are?”.
“Stop it", he said gently, but firmly, “you’re not ‘just’ anything, or someone. You’re incredible, and I’m with you because I want to be. Age is just a number and it doesn’t define how meaningful our relationship is, not to me and it shouldn't be to anyone".
But your doubts resurfaced, relentless as you continued with your voice rising with each word, “But what if your family doesn’t feel the same? What if they think I’m not good enough for their sweet boy? I just… I can't help but overthink it. I love you, and I’m terrified of losing you".
Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his and grounding you with his touch, something you explained to him early on that worked wonders for you, “I can’t control what others think, but my family will see how happy you make me. They care about my happiness, not just some number or date".
“But what if they don’t?”, you whispered, your voice trembling. Over the years, you could remember the times where you told patients exactly that, that their mind was looking for survival so that's where it took them.
“They will!", Lando stated, his grip tightening slightly, “Look, it’s not going to be like this forever. People talk, and yes, media can be ruthless, but what matters is how we feel about each other. And I feel lucky to have you in my life. Please trust that, my love".
You looked for reassurance in his eyes as slowly his words began to soothe the turmoil, but the fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface.
“I just don’t want to complicate things for you", you said softly.
Lando brushed his fingers against your cheek, a gentle smile breaking through your anxiety, "you’re not complicating things. You’re adding to my life in a way I never knew I needed. Can we just take this one step at a time together?”.
Lando pulled you into a warm embrace, and for a moment, the weight on your heart lightened. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself to stay in the moment and be there.
“I’ll try", you finally spoke against his shoulder, feeling comfort in his unwavering support.
“I promise I'm not going anywhere", he whispered back, wrapping you tighter in his arms, "we’re in this together".
"Thank you", you mumbled, pecking his lips softly.
"You don't ever need to thank me, not for stuff like this or anything else, we're in this together, lovie", Lando kissed your forehead, "besides, if you ever dump me, I'll have to find a good psychologist to help me through it and you're the best one, so that's another valid point for us to stay together", he chuckled, wanting to get a giggle out of you.
Smiling when he succeeded, Lando squeezed you tighter against him, "never doubt that we were meant to be, Y/N, never".
#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris fic#lando norris fluff#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fluff#f1 fanfic
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Cross My Heart
Part 2 - Trust is a Two Way Street
Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.
CW: Mentions of war, mentions of death, descriptions of wounds, medical stuff, medical inaccuracies.
Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3
Enjoy <3
The barrel is cold on your skin, you’re holding your breath, his finger is on the trigger.
“Explain yourself.” A deep voice asks. You swallow hard trying to keep as still as possible.
“I’m a smuggler. I work for whoever pays. The people you killed, I was supposed to get them to Al Qatala. Konni pays me to smuggle people or weapons over the border. It’s easy to use ULF safehouses up here as a stop off point.”
“You Russian?” The man with the mohawk asks.
“Does it matter?” You almost spit back at him.
“What about Al Qatala or ULF you done jobs for them too?”
“If they pay, yeah. You’d be surprised how desperate people can get.”
“Gaz, stand down. She’s not a threat.” You see a hand land on his shoulder. You swallow again, looking up at him, his eyes are scrunched together, there’s real anger behind them. The gun moves from your head, you let out a sigh of relief, sitting back on your legs, you lower your hands slowly.
“What do Al Qatala pay you to smuggle?” Ghost asks.
“I don’t ask. The less I know the less I’m a liability. I’m good at what I do, that's all that matters.” The man with the mohawk scoffs. Gaz moves back to stand with him.
“You don’t even get a little curious?” Gaz asks, putting his pistol away. You sigh rolling your eyes, almost like it’s an inconvenience.
“POW’s, chemicals. High ranking members of Al Qatala, mostly for meetings with Konni, sometimes with Makarov himself.”
“What about the ULF?”
“General supplies, the odd civilians, favors for Farah. It’s harder to cross the other borders. Russia is easy.”
“So you’re not a medic. Can you even help him?” Ghost asks. You turn to look at him, you can’t tell if colour has come back to his face or not.
“My mother was a nurse, my father was a doctor. I was on track to go to med school too.” You say, you’re not sure what’s going to happen now. You probably know as much as they do, they’ve most likely been trained on such situations.
“Where are your parents now?” Gaz asks.
“Dead, killed in the conflict. Like almost everyone I know.” There’s sadness in your voice, you try to hide it.
“You didn’t pick a side?” Ghost asks.
“I did, in the beginning. Farah’s message was a popular one. It was the ULF who came to our aid when our town was attacked.” You pause looking round at them all. “It was the ULF who carpet bombed the hospital killing my father. A week later my mother was killed by Al Qatala when they raided a ULF base.”
“I’m sorry, about your parents.” The mohawk man says, Gaz tuts.
“Why become a smuggler?”
“It was by chance. I managed to gather enough money to flee, and pay someone to get me over the border. We got talking, he offered me a job instead.”
“Where is he now?”
“Probably dead.” You say as a matter of fact. You haven’t seen him in over a year. In the beginning he was like your mentor, teaching you the best routs how to use ULF and Al Qatala safehouses. Who to mention to get people to leave you alone. He vouched for you, got you jobs then when you were ready he just left.
No one is saying anything. You move to stand up.
“Your friend’s gunshot is not a through and through, that means the bullet is still in there. Pulling it out could kill him, I don’t have the equipment to check where it is or if he has any other injured organs. He needs a hospital.” You say urgently.
“CASEVAC?” Gaz says.
“Not from here.” Ghost replies. There’s silence again. You squeeze your eyes closed sighing.
“There’s an abandoned vets in the next town, east of here. It will have the equipment I need to check him.” They could think you’re lying. They’re exchanging glances, you can almost see them thinking. It seems like Ghost is the one incharge, he shifts on his feet.
“Okay.”
“What about Farah?” Your head snaps over to the mohawk man, you need to get his name at some point, and figure out where his accent is from, he doesn’t sound like the other two.
“Nothing but radio silence.” Ghost replies.
“How did you end up here?” You ask before you can stop yourself. You’ve been honest with them, maybe they’ll be honest with you.
“That's classified.” Ghost snaps, you nod. You expected that.
“I heard Farah’s forces are moving north. We’re close to the Russian border. Maybe it’s best you wait?” You say offering up the only info you have on ULF’s movements.
“How do you know that?” Ghost asks.
“I was warned they were on the move when I picked up this job.” You say.
“By Konni?” Gaz asks, you nod. You hear Ghost sigh then mutter under his breath.
“In your opinion, how bad is he?” Ghost asks, taking another step towards you, you hold your ground.
“I don’t know. Moving him is risky, but there is no way to tell if the bullet is doing any damage internally. I couldn’t say without scans. There’s probably an x-ray at the vets.” You explain. “It’s 50/50 either way.”
“And you know how to use one?” The mohawk guy asks, raising en eyebrow.
“I-I could figure it out, I spent one summer shadowing a radiologist.” You explain. It’s a long shot, but right now it's about keeping yourself alive. As long as you’re useful you’re safe.
There are collective sighs around the room, glaces and nods of heads. Ghost lowers his weapon taking another step towards you. He opens his mouth about to speak when a groan from behind you stops him.
You turn to see the man on the couch trying to sit himself up. Gaz rushes past you and you take a step back giving him room.
“Price, don’t move. You’re okay.” He says. Price so that's the name of the man on the sofa. His eyes blink open and he looks around, you can feel Ghost behind you, the barrel of his weapon digging into your back.
A gentle reminder they don’t trust you.
“Where are we?” Price groans, it’s barely words, you almost miss what he says.
“Urzikstan, ULF safehouse just across the border.” Gaz explains. They came from Russia, what were they doing in Russia?
“Shit, what happened?” Gaz is keeping him pressed down, his hand stroking his arm.
“Convoy was ambushed, we had no choice.”
“Alex?” Price asks.
“MIA, we lost track of him when you got shot. I made the order to fall back.” Ghost says but you can hear the strain in his voice.
“Shit.”
“It’s okay cap, we’ll find him.” So there are more people with them. Someone called Alex, and they’re missing. They had a convoy, most likely for the ULF.
“Who’s she?” Price asks his gaze landing on you. You smile at him.
“That’s a long story.” Gaz says.
next Banners by plum98
#fanfic#cod#call of duty#simon ghost riley#john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#ghost cod#taskforce 141#task force 141#poly 141 x reader#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#poly 141#gaz cod#cod 141#captain john price#captain johnathan price#john price x reader#john price x you#john price x y/n#john price cod#captain price#simon ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost simon riley#simon riley x reader#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz x you#kyle gaz garrik
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Shadows and Snow Angels
Azriel x Reader, Azriel x child OCs
Chapter 2 - My scars won't heal
Normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to get mad it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...
Word count: 1.5k
💔 💘
Series warnings: past emotional abuse, past physical abuse, past emotional trauma, non explicit thoughts of suicide, depression, parental doubt, child abandonment, past child abandonment, brief talk of past pregnancy. no details mentioned, mention of non explicit SA, we die like men. Every chapter will be individually tagged.
If you don't like what your reading click off!
Author's note: ok, so I kinda his a manic a episode and now I'm writing the second chapter literally the minute I posted the first. We'll see how long it will take me to finish this one but if y'all are lucky, maybe we'll get 2 chapters in one day!
Author's note 2: lucky streak gone but at least it'll be on time. I'm gonna try to post a new chapter every Friday, but we'll see how it goes, life's kinda crazy rn.
Chapter warnings: brief talk of child abuse, Azzie is a traumatized baby, this chapter is actually more fluff than angst but still, we die like men.
Rhys opened the door, only in his pajamas with his hair sticking up in random places. It must have been a long night. Nyx just turned two a couple months ago and he was having a horrible time sleeping through the night. Rhys and Feyre took shift but everyone knew that Rhys was the one that usually stayed up with him.
"hey I'm sorry, I know it's late, or well early, but we officially have an emergency." You said while Rhys just glanced between the two of you, it took him a good second to realize that there was suddenly an extra little one with you both. Azriels shadows darted past Rhys's feet to go check if the house was safe.
"yeah come on in, I'll go get Feyre." Rhys stepped aside and let you both in before jogging tiredly up the stairs to get his mate. You quietly sat down on the couch to re adjust the little hat Elain made for Astrid, fixing it to sit on her delicate head better. You chuckled as Rhys's appearance. Who knew that out of get trapped in hell for 50 years, enduring another war and having a baby, it was the baby that finally got him. "Poor high lord."
Azriel was still standing but he seemed to be enjoying bouncing Rhain in his arms, rocking him side to side as his shadows created a Shadowy mobile above them. He chuckled softly at your comment, glance in his brothers direction before looking back to the little boy in his arms. They were practically making heart eyes at eachother, if it wasn't so late at night you might have asked Feyre to paint it.
The way Azriel interacted with children was honestly what drew him to you in the first place and the ease in the way he can calm them makes your heart melt every time. Your mate was always so still and calm so seeing him bouncing and sway your daughter and the same way he does with Rhain now, made your heart soar higher than the stars above.
You were still smiling at your mate when you heard rushed footsteps flying down the stairs. You didn't have to look up to know that Feyre was running to come see the little one. The Shadows flared defensively but calmed at the sight of their high lady.
"OK, WHERE TH-" you shushed her quickly before she woke up all three kids in the house. She was still in her night gown and her hair was tied back messily. "Sorry, where the hell did this little cutie come from!..."
You chuckled as Feyre took Rhain from your mate. He looked skeptical and basically hovered over his sister in-law as she cuddled the baby. The Shadows however, seemed content to huddle around you and Astrid on the couch, completely ignoring their masters anxious behavior.
"Az, would you calm down, she's not gonna drop him." You say barely containing your laughter. He was actually just as overprotective as the day you brought your daughter home. It was adorable.
"Oh my gods! What's his name?!" Feyre squealed quietly and came to settle on the couch next to you. Rhain was babbling softly and grabbed Feyre's finger in his small hand.
"Rhain. His name is Rhain." Azriel said, still standing next to feyre, he's hands twitching at his side, wanting to take Rhain back from her. You shook your head at his antics, he's had this baby in his care for like 2 hours and he's already acting like Mother hen.
"I'm sorry, I know it late and I know that Nyx id having issues sleeping but we don't have anything that will fit him and I decided that this officially classified as an emergency."
"No, don't worry about it at all! Not at all, no! Not at all!" She said less to you as she cooed down at your little boy before actually lifter her gaze to you and responding. "Yeah, absolutely this is an emergency. Come on I'm sure I could spare some jumpers for him, Cauldron knows that Rhys is gonna buy him more anyway."
Feyre stood and tried to walk away with the Rhian still wrapped I her arms but a wall of shadows came to block her from walking away just long enough for Azriel to take him back. Feyre just rolled her eyes and lead you upstairs, muttering jokingly to herself about Azriel being overprotective.
2 hours later you all were back at your own home, azriel settling the baby's down for bed. You had added a temporary separator in the crib just for tonight, you'll have to make a trip to the Palace quarters tomorrow for another one. Your mate had just finished building your daughter's nursery and now you're either gonna have to rearrange everything or finds another room in your home for a second nursery... Wonderful...
Once they were both swaddled, wings and all, they were out like a light before he could flip the switch. You were sitting in bed trying to read and relax but you mind was reeling from the days events. Your mind wandered to Rhain. He was so small, he still had that fresh baby smell. You had tried to explain the smell to Mor one time but she thought you were crazy, must be a mom thing. He was underweight and dehydrated from what you could tell, the poor thing could barely suckle the bottle you had fed him earlier. You were lost in thought, book discarded laying open in your lap, as Azriel came into the room, his footsteps as silently as ever.
"So how much trouble am I in?" Your head snapped up at his voice. 4 years... 4 years you had been together and he still manages to sneak up on you, you'd think you would be better at spotted him now but no. You looked up at him, you eyes locked on him as you pulled yourself from the whirlwind of questions and worries you had gotten lost in. He was leaning forward against the bed frame at the foot of the bed. His Shadows fluttered and flitted out into the room randomly as per usual when it was time for bed. It was interesting, most people thought Azriels Shadows were just extensions of him but in reality, most of them had personalities and curiosity, it was kinda cute to watch them.
"come here..." You opened your arms for him and waited as he quickly shrugged off his leathers and siphons, a few of the Shadows helping him by catching his siphons and placing them on the dresser silently. He sank onto he stomach and into your arms with a sigh. He nuzzled his face into your chest as his wings relaxed and sprawled across the massive bed.
"I'm not upset with you. I mean I would have loved a heads up that we were gonna adopt an infant today but I know that the circumstances were anything but ideal. Trust me I would have been PISSED if I found out you didn't bring him home. You are the most compassionate and empathetic person I've ever known. Thats one of the reasons I love you so much." You smile as you feel every muscle in his body melt under your hands, your fingers working out the knots from his back. He let out a breathy moan when you gently pressed your fingers into the onyx skin at the base of his wings.
"he needed me, and you. Besides your a good mama, if anyone could give him the love he needs it's you..." He lifted himself slightly to settle on top of you better, he's arms wrapping around your waist and his thighs spreading yours a bit more. You took a second to bask in the moment, your fingers tangling and brushing through his hair, a couple of shadows coming to rest on the pillow next to you. You thanked the mother for moments like this. For the times when you both could just hold each other and feel just as loved and seen as if you had spent the night making the house shake.
"Thank you... for understanding, for not being upset. You have every right to be..." azriel mumbled, his voice laced with emotion. He was right, you did have a right to be mad but you weren't. How could you ever be upset with him for being the most loving male in Prythian?! You hugged him tighter and kissed his forehead.
"Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever your thinking about?" You smoothed a hand over his back to try and comfort him. Even though you had been mated for a few years there were still secrets and things he refused to tell you, especially about his excuse of a childhood. You knew the basics, a general idea of how he was treated but he never went into details. You liked to think he wouldn't tell you because he knew you would find his half brothers and rip them to shreds, although You knew in reality it was most likely just to painful to actively try to remember.
"yeah I do, but not tonight. I... we can talk about it tomorrow, I don't want to ruin the night..." He said choosing his words carfully. Azriel easily sat up and flipped you both so you to rest against his side and pulled the covers over you both, the Shadows that had been occupying the pillow previously jumped away I'm a misty puff. You didn't press. You knew he would tell you when he was ready to open up. It made sense, that he past would rear it's ugly head after he brought Rhain home. You left a small kiss on his chest before snuggling into him and letting yourself drift off into your thoughts, the shadows descending over you both is calm wave urging you both into sleep.
Thank you so much for reading and as always I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! If you wanna be added to the tag list please comments or DM me to be added!
Taglist
@romantasyreader28 @tele86 @mulansaucey @jennnsthings @6v6babycheese @mich0731 @starlightandsouls @ohemgeewhat @littlelunatica @icey--stars @paleidiot @jir67 @celestialamore @rcarbo1 @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @queenoffeysand @suppppp97
#acotar#a court of frost and starlight#a court of silver flames#a court of thorns and roses#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#acotar men x reader#acotar x reader#acotar smut#azriel smut#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x plus size reader#acowar
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‘Was I that small?’
The waterlogged Red Hood had stopped dead in the streets, helmeted head frozen in place by the sight of a young boy lifting tires from an older (newer?) version of a car he knew by heart. Water dripped off of his jacket, the steady and quiet plops of water cracked like gun shots in between the sudden silence.
Blue eyes widened, darted down to assess his threat levels (high, screamed the guns in his holsters. Run, screamed the plated armor covering his entire body), and the boy stiffened.
Red Hood knew the boy as well as he knew himself, because the boy is him, and lunged before the little shit made a break for it, knocking the tire iron out of the kid’s hands as he does.
“No!” The boy- himself, a younger Jason Todd- screamed. Desperate and terrified, he flailed in the air as Jason lifted him up and out by the back of his sweatshirt. “No! Fuck you, you boob!”
Jason put his hand over the kid’s mouth and, in a move made with only stupidity in mind, dashed towards an alley. The kid kicked harder. Jason approved of mini Jason’s actions, even if it made it that much harder to escape without Batman being alerted. Never let them take you to a secondary location. Jason did, and look where it got him. Killed within years of becoming a child soldier. Good thing for his younger self- Jay, Jason decided arbitrarily and definitely without input- Jason’s about to save him the same fate.
“Listen kid, I need you to-” that is a child, do not tell a child to shut the fuck up “-quiet down, or Bat’s gonna get both of us.”
“Fuck you!”
Jason sighed. “Yeah, alright. Look.” Jason took off his helmet, yanking off the domino underneath with an impressive feat of acrobatics.
Jay went limp in his hand, mouth agape.
Jason grappled up to a roof and set the kid down cautiously. He waited.
And waited.
And-
“Are you another older brother?” There it- wait, what?
“Huh?” He grunted, baffled. Then he gagged a bit. That sounded like B. Ew.
“Y’know, like Danny?”
And oh, he hadn’t thought about Danny since forever. The brother that joined a gang to support them only to die. Jason felt a bit like a piece of shit.
But it made for a good cover. Jason barely managed to keep the grimace off his face.
“Yep.” What was it Alfred said? In for a penny, in for a pound? Jason already changed the future by snatching the kid before B could, even if he was half confused from his trip into the bay and apparently through time. “Yeah. The old man slept around.”
Bruce really did sleep around some. Fuck if he remembered anything about Willis though.
“Of course he did.” Jay grumbled, looking less wary but still ready to dip. “So, uh, what’s with the get up? You some kind of… criminal knockoff of Batman?”
Jason looked down. Right.
“Thought it’d be funny to steal his symbol,” Jason replied shortly. It rankled, but he didn’t have any other explanation that wasn’t a defensive ‘the symbol is mine by right.’ He sighed. Jason couldn’t believe he was already missing the old man. He’s not in his timeline though, clearly, and Jason’s been through enough bullshit to know he had a lot of work to do to get back to his time. For now…
“Name’s Peter. Peter Jason Todd.”
Jay wrinkled his nose. “We pretty much have the same name, gross.”
Jason, no, Peter, snorted. Jay didn’t know the half of it. “Never said our parents were creative, kid. Now, how about we get some burgers? I’m starving.”
“… Ya gonna go like that? People looking atcha can tell you’re a threat. Ain’t no way I’m bringing you back to my bolt with you looking like that. Ms. Rand’s gonna have a heart attack.”
Peter rolled his eyes, making sure his counterpart could see it. “Be right back. Don’t move.” He pointed sternly at the kid’s forehead.
“Where the hell am I gonna go, over the edge?” Jay snarked back.
——
Jason’s heart was still thrumming in his throat. If you told him he’d be sitting with another older brother in a burger joint two hours ago, he woulda hit you with a tire iron. But shit, he would have appreciated the heads up.
Coming face to face with an unknown Bat built like a brick shit house and packing enough heat to mow down the Alley’s mobs was terrifying enough, considering he was actively robbing another Bat of his tires.
Then, confirmation that Willis slept around? Great. Perfect. At least the chances of this ‘Peter Todd’ killing him went way down.
“Damn, how are you putting away more food than me?” Jason watched as Peter all but unhinged his jaw to inhale the burgers he bought. Jason’s own burger was sitting in front of him.
“These muscles don’t maintain themselves, shrimp.”
Jason scowled, taking a bite of his burger before promptly inhaling it too.
“Slow down. Your stomach’s not used to that much food in one go. Give it time to adjust or else you’ll end up puking.” Peter advised. And yeah, Jason can tell what kind of life Peter’s lived before he became… whatever he is now. The man looked suspiciously unsuspicious in sweats and a t-shirt. Where he procured those, Jason didn’t know. Nevertheless, Jason begrudgingly slowed down. Jason’s gonna interrogate this new brother of his, and then he’ll decide if he needs to ditch or keep.
The image of Peter’s gear and obvious competency in beating the shit out of people flashed through his head. He’ll decide to ditch if Peter lets him ditch, Jason amended. There’s no way he’ll be able to run if Peter doesn’t let him.
——
Jason: I need a fake name
Also Jason: Peter Jason Todd
Jason, trying to calm his younger self: quick! Brag about yourself!
Baby!Jason: ew what a dork *relaxes*
Baby!Jason is all judgmental sass and zero fucks.
Little Jay has a run in with an unknown bat on that fateful night
Day 1 for @jasontoddweek2025 prompt for “time travel” and “the Batmobile tires”
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From Under The Desk
JaycexFem!Reader
Modern College AU
You have a paper due at midnight. A very important one. You absolutely CANNOT afford to be distracted.
Jayce distracts you.
Warnings: 18+ (this is basically just smut without plot tbh.) Reader is AFAB. Oral sex, cunnilingus, descriptions of genitalia. Small age gap? Like, only a year or two. Does that count? Idk let me know if i missed something <3
You scrubbed a hand across your face, exhaustion tugging at your eyes. It wasn't actually that late- it was only about seven pm. But, you'd stayed up all of last night writing this damned paper, only to go and spend a full day in class afterwards. And now here you were, hunched over your desk like a vulture pecking at your keyboard.
Getting the words down was the easy part. It was making them make sense that made your brain hurt. The amount of words you'd back-spaced over was probably comparable to the ones you'd actually kept.
You took a swig of your energy drink, wincing as the carbonation hit the back of your throat. You don't know why you bothered honestly; it wasn't doing anything for you at this point.
It was then that you heard the lock on the front door click, and the telltale shuffling sounds of someone entering your tiny apartment.
"I'm home!"
You heard Jayce's muffled voice through your bedroom door, but you made no effort to tear your attention away from your computer screen.
"Hon?" You heard him call again, "You home?"
More shuffling. Then, he knocked softly on the door before opening it. "Hon?" He repeated.
"Hey," you said automatically, fingers still flying across your keyboard.
"Hey, you." You could hear the smile in his voice, and it made your stomach flutter a little. "I picked up some takeout for dinner- I even got those little crab rangoons you love."
In your head, you meant to say something like, 'Wow! Thank you, my love. Im so excited to eat my favorite food with you!' But you didn't, leaving only an awkward pause in the back and forth you could barely call a conversation. You scrolled back to the top of your paper to re-read it, skimming for mistakes. Ah- there's a typo here. It should be "perceived", not-
"Hey, are you okay? Did you hear me?"
"What?" You bristled a little bit, annoyed to have been interrupted. You finally turned around to acknowledge him, trying to hide your chagrin. "Oh...sorry. Um, thank you. That was thoughtful."
It had taken a moment to force your eyes to focus on him, after staring at a bright screen for so long. When they did, you found he looked significantly more chipper than you felt. That made sense, you supposed. He had been freed from the confines of student life already, no longer bogged down by trivial things like homework and exams. Lucky bastard.
His eyes grazed across your face, then the rest of your body- and stopped when he found something interesting.
"You're wearing my hoodie,". He said. Irritation clawed at your stomach, and you swallowed the 'so what?' rising in your throat. You really just wanted to get back to work.
"It's comfy," you said instead, shrugging. "Sorry. I hoped you wouldn't mind. Do you want it back?" He shook his head, starting towards you.
"No, it looks good on you. Keep it on." He leaned down to peck you on the cheek, and you smiled tiredly at him. His hair was slightly tousled from a long day at work, and his chiseled cheekbones were smeared with grease. His cologne was mixed with the smell of coal and something vaguely chemical. Truthfully, what you really wanted was to yank off the hoodie, and his clothes too, and pull him into the shower with you- but there was no time for that now. You swiveled your chair around again, going back to your work.
"Im sorry," you said, "This paper is due in a couple of hours and I need to get it done. You should go ahead and eat if you're hungry. You don't have to wait. And please take a shower."
"What?" He teased, "You don't like the smell of hydraulic fluid?" He wrapped his arms around you and dropped his chin on top of your head. You found it difficult to keep yourself upright under his immense weight.
"No, I don't," you huffed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude, but I need to focus on this. But once I'm done, I'm yours for the rest of the night, okay?"
The weight was lifted as he moved away from you, chuckling. "Alright, Alright. I'll leave you to it. God, it's kinda hot when you're mean to me. Maybe you should do that more often."
You swatted his arm, staring incredulously, and he ducked away as he laughed again. "I'm not being mean to you. I thought I was being pretty polite all things considered."
"You are mean to me," he whined. "You wont even let me give you my love and attentioonnn." He gave you fake puppy dog eyes, and you snatched a pencil off your desk, holding it up like you were going to chuck it at him.
"Get out," you warned. He held up his hands in surrender and backed out the door, eyes full of mirth.
"I bet you'd be nicer to me if you ate something."
You threw the pencil as hard as you could, but he shut the door before it reached him, and it bounced off the wood instead. You heard him cackling on the other side, before you heard his heavy footsteps move away.
You huffed, running your fingers through your hair. It was greasy, and in need of a good combing-through. You hadn't really had time for a shower yourself; but it could wait a little longer. You went back to your pecking.
Too soon, you heard the bedroom door open again. "Back already?" You asked mechanically.
"Already?" He repeated. "It's been like an hour." You glanced at the clock on the bottom corner of your screen. He was right. You'd been so focused that you didn't realize how long it had been.
"Whoops." You still didn't cease your typing.
You felt his weight upon you the same as before, forcing a wheeze from your lungs. "Why are you so heavy?" You huffed.
He chuckled, and you felt the vibrations against your back. The two of you stayed there like that for a moment, and you rubbed your eyes again. His warmth was comforting, and dangerously cozy. You were going to fall asleep at this rate. You shrugged, trying to get him to move off of you- but he didn't budge. Instead, he pressed his face into your neck, and his hair tickled your cheek. It was still damp, and you could smell his shampoo- like mint, and something darker, more earthy. You tilted your head to kiss the top of his own, breathing in the scent; but never taking your eyes away from your computer.
"Your food's getting cold, love." His breath tickled your skin, giving you butterflies again. "You should come eat something. You'll feel better."
"Can't," you muttered. Even if you wanted to, the caffeine you'd been chugging all day dampened your appetite, despite your empty stomach. He was probably right, but if you stopped now, you might not be able to start again. You had to capitalize on your focus; you couldn't afford to lose it.
Jayce brushed his lips against your jaw, pressing little kisses into the bone, and down your neck. He trailed a hand down your arm, the one opposite to him, and slipped it across your thigh, into the space between your legs-
'What do you think you're doing?" He stood up straight, taking his hand back. You glared at him, half annoyed, and half aroused. It was only now that you realized he wasn't wearing a shirt- just a pair of sweatpants that accentuated his girth in just the right way. You could see every muscle he worked so hard to build on full display, and your breath hitched. His tanned skin was just as damp as his hair, still shining with water. You wondered if he'd even bothered to dry off when he got out of the shower.
"I'm sorry. I can stop if you really want me to," he said gently. He looked down at you with something on his face you couldn't quite read. He wasn't frowning, nor smiling. His eyebrows were quirked upward just slightly, eyes half lidded. His expression was somewhere between lust and fatigue, you decided. Maybe he'd had a long day, too.
You blinked, trying to keep your eyes open. Maybe you didn't want him to stop- but you had to get this done if you had any hope of graduating next semester. You couldn't afford to fail this class. You looked away from him, feeling torn. In the corner of your eye, you watched him kneel beside you, and felt the weight of his head in your lap. He slid his hands around your waist, one of them between you and the back of your chair, and the other across your lap.
"You don't have to stop," you said quietly. "But I can't, either. This is important."
"Is that what you want though? For me to keep going, I mean?"
You nodded, swallowing thickly. "I do. I just need you to understand that I'm not ignoring you to be mean; I don't want to hurt your feelings because I'm not being an active participant."
He lifted his head, shifting himself between your legs. He had to duck and curl himself up awkwardly to fit himself underneath your desk- it was kind of cute, actually, watching him trying to fit his giant shoulders and long legs into such a tight space.
"I don't think that at all," he said when he was finally comfortable. "I know this it's important to you." He slid his hands up your thighs, letting one of his thumbs land on the spot where he knew your clit to be. He stroked it gently through the fabric of your pants, and you bit your lip to stop the gasp trapped in your throat. His other hand grasped your hip, massaging the soft malleable flesh of your curves with his thumb. He rested his cheek on your knee, looking up at you lovingly.
"You just seem so stressed," he said. "I wanna help you relax." He punctuated his words by swiveling his hand around, sliding his fingers under the curve of your pelvis. Well, 'relaxed' isn't the word you would use to describe yourself right now. A coil had wound itself inside your stomach, and your legs were tense with anticipation. In his hands, you were putty. You couldn't think straight anymore. You tried to focus, tried to keep your eyes on the prize. You were almost done here. Just a couple more paragraphs to go, and then you could-
"Oh-" you gasped involuntarily, something girlish and high pitched. Your face burned with embarrassment- you'd never made a noise like that before. But you couldn't help it- not with the way he was sliding his fingers into you now. You hadn't even realized he had managed to tug your pants down enough to expose you to him.
His other hand, previously on your hip, had slid up your sweater. It was on the small of your back now, pressing you forward. He drew his fingers out of you, slowly, and you bucked your hip forwards with a groan. He was moving so, so slowly. He was being so gentle and sweet, you thought your teeth were going to rot and fall out of your skull. He leaned forward, kissing your stomach, moving down to the side- to your hip, in the crease of your skin where your pelvis met your thigh. You shivered; his lips brushed you so lightly it tickled a bit. Your fingertips buzzed with electricity as you tried to keep typing. But then you felt his tongue sliding between your folds and you couldn't do it anymore.
You let your eyes flutter shut, letting him finally overtake your thoughts completely. You buried your face in your hands, trying to control your ragged breathing as he moved his tongue up, and down, slowly, gently. He pushed his tongue inside of you, lapping at you like he hadn't had a drop to drink in days. You whined, sliding a hand under the desk to grab his hair, to bring him closer to you. You could hear him panting, feel his breath against your pubic mound. His movements grew more desperate at your touch, ever eager to please.
You laid your other arm on the table, resting your head on it like a pillow. You really couldn't stop the sounds escaping from you now. Every gasp, moan, and whimper from you only seemed to further spur him, urging him to move faster. He alternated between fucking you with his tongue, reaching as far inside of you as he could manage, and moving back up to lick tiny circles around your clit.
You moved your hips with his rhythm, desperate for more friction as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to the edge. "Jayce," you whispered shakily, "I-I'm really- mmmfh- close-"
He didn't let up even a little bit, even when you leaned back, pushing his head against you so hard you were worried he'd suffocate. You were almost blinded by pleasure, the coil winding itself tighter and tighter- until it finally snapped.
You cried out his name like a prayer, over and over again as you shook. You clamped your thighs around his ears, wrapping your legs together over his shoulders. You tugged on his hair like it was a lifeline, feeling every crashing tidal wave of your orgasm in full force as your back arched away from your chair. You practically sobbed, your eyes watering. You couldn't help it. It was so good.
He finally stopped when he sensed you'd had enough, slumping in your chair like a rag doll as exhaustion racked your brain through the afterglow. He pulled back, his face shiny with spit and slick. You smiled at him, before letting your head flop back as you closed your eyes.
'That was hot," he whispered. You snorted, not opening your eyes. You felt his fingers brush your skin as he pulled your pants back up, and shivered slightly when the cold wet fabric of your underwear met your overly-sensitive groin. You pressed your toes against the floor to push your chair from under the table so he'd have room to get out.
"That didn't take very long, either" he teased. "You must have been pretty pent up." You heard shuffling as he stood, and you finally opened your eyes when you felt his lips brush against your forehead. You flicked his shoulder.
"You're just good at what you do."
He smiled, his eyes flickering across your face. You reached up to rub your thumb across his chin, trying to wipe off some of the remaining fluids. He grabbed your wrist and pressed a kiss into your palm before you could withdraw it, never taking his eyes off of you.
"Come eat something, please," he whispered. You sighed and glanced at the clock again, considering it- it was almost 9:15. There was still time.
"Alright, alright," you resigned. "Give me five minutes, and I'll be right there."
Jayce made a face you couldn't discern, and let go of your hand. "Okay," he said, and stepped out of the room.
He came back ten minutes later to find you still at your computer. "I couldn't wait any longer," he said- making you jump.
"Augh, I'm sorry, Jayce," you said- and you meant it.
"It's okay," he shrugged, "I had a feeling this might happen. You get so sucked in sometimes. It's endearing, actually."
He set two styrofoam boxes next to you, and opened another for himself. "I thought I would just bring dinner in here. Maybe I could help you edit? Make things go a little faster so we can get you in the shower?" He smirked, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was lodged into the corner of the room, with the desk beside it like an oversized nightstand. There'd be no room to move about, otherwise.
You cracked open the first box, choosing to ignore his quip, and your mouth watered at the sight of your favorite food inside. Ugh, even cold it smelled amazing. You shoveled it into your face with the flimsy plastic fork, newfound hunger making itself evident. You looked to Jayce, intending to thank him for the meal; but you found he was looking at you expectantly.
'What?" You asked through a mouthful of food.
"Did you want my help?"
Oh.
You swallowed.
"Sorry. Um, yes. That might be nice honestly. I could use a break."
He set his food aside, chuckling. "The first one wasn't enough?" He teased. You scowled, only pretending to be upset.
"Whatever man. Switch me places." You stood up to give him your chair, and he complied- though he had to pull the lever under the seat to lower it, to make room for his mile-long legs.
"Alright, let's see, here..."He squinted as he read your work, and you took the opportunity to admire him. God, he really was incredibly handsome. His long, calloused fingers looked enormous over your keyboard compared to your own. His bulky shoulders hunched forward, pulling the skin of his back taught over his muscles. You bit your lip, feeling your arousal coming back through your fatigue. He glanced at you, and you blushed when you caught him staring; as if you hadn't been together long enough by now that this wasn't embarrassing. But he still never failed to give you the warm-and-fuzzies so to speak. He smiled, laughing through his nose.
"What're you looking at?"
You twirled your hair with exaggeration. "Oh, yknow. Just this cute guy I have a crush on, or whatever," you flirted. He rolled his eyes, still grinning to himself.
"Eat your food, dork." He looked back to the screen, and you did what you were told.
It didn't take long. You wolfed down your dinner so fast you even surprised yourself. You stood to collect your trash, and kissed the top of Jayce's head before heading to the kitchen to dispose of it properly. When you came back, he was already standing up to stretch.
"It looks good to me," he said- with his arms over his head, his obliques were in full view and it made you just about weak in the knees. "I think it's ready to submit, if you're happy with it."
You thought about re-reading it one more time- just to be sure- but your brain was so foggy with exhaustion (and maybe some arousal). You trusted Jayce's judgement, too. He'd graduated summa cum laude last year, after all. You were sure he knew what he was talking about.
"Thank you, love. I really appreciate your help." You patted his chest with a weary smile, and sat down to submit it. When you were finally able to click your laptop shut, you were just about to collapse. You looked over to find Jayce already waiting for you in bed, and he opened his arms for you.
"C'mere, you," he crooned softly. You complied, shutting off the table lamp before you crawled across the blankets to meet him. He pulled them over the two of you, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the scent of mint and clean bedsheets. You suddenly felt self conscious, remembering you had forgotten to bathe.
You sat up. "I'm gonna take a shower real quick actually-" but he yanked you back down before you could move, burying his nose in your hair.
"Nooooo," he mumbled. "Stay with me."
"Jaaaayce," you whined, "I smell terrible. Wouldn't you rather I got cleaned up before bed?"
He didn't move, keeping you pinned between his arms. "Mmm, girl stink."
"You- what?" You sputtered, laughing at the absurdity. You tried to move, but he was already snoring softly. You couldn't tell if he was faking it or not, but you gave in anyway. You tangled your legs with his, letting his warmth overtake you and carry you to sleep at last.
#arcane#arcane fanfic#jayce talis#fanfiction#arcane jayce#jayce league of legends#jayce x reader#wattpad#writing#arcane smut#smut#Jayce wants to help#boy does he#this may or may not be based off my real life husband WHO SAID THAT
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MINE
A little something for you guys.
Rosé x male reader.
"Thanks again for coming, girls. " Says Minhyuk.
"No problem, it's our pleasure! "Replies Jisoo. "Plus we get to see Y/N Oppa" "
" And then Rosé unnie gets to see her boyfriend. "Teases Lisa.
Rosé blushes but can't get the goofy grin off her face. It's been several months since you've seen each other, you with your missions and Rosé with her concerts. A few weeks ago, Minhyuk, one of your soldiers, suggested that Blackpink come and play at your barracks. Naturally, the girls jumped at the chance.
""Y/N will arrive during the concert. He's not back yet and will have to report in as soon as he arrives. "
"Is he all right? " Rosé asked with a hint of concern in her voice.
"Yes, he's fine. The mission went very well, Rosé. "Minhyuk reassures her.
Rosé lets out a sigh of relief. When you're away, Rosé doesn't hear much about you, and that's what worries her most. She's always afraid of receiving a message announcing your death.
"I'll let you get changed. I'll be waiting for you on stage. "says Minhyuk.
The girls thank him and start changing. They rehearse a few notes and after checking everything, the girls go on stage.
Minhyuk announces the girls and the curtain rises. The soldiers howl with delight and the girls begin to sing. The atmosphere is electric, the soldiers are so happy to see Blackpink.
You arrive after several songs and Rosé notices you right away. You wink at her and see Rosé start to dance. You laugh and encourage her.
"COME ON ROSIE! " you shout.
Encouraged by your shouts, Rosé begins to dance sensually, to the delight of the soldiers. Mouth wide open, you watch your girlfriend dance to the shouts of your soldiers. You want to shout something, but a voice next to you interrupts you.
Rosé sees you talking to a female soldier. She sees you laughing with her and the woman even whispers something in your ear that makes you smile.
"Unnie's jealous. " Lisa says, coming up behind Rosé.
Rosé refocuses on the dance but doesn't take her eyes off you. Yes, Rosé's jealous - she's never hidden it, on the contrary. It's not something that bothers you. Rosé used to be jealous of her members, especially Jennie. So to see you laughing with someone else, and especially with a woman she doesn't know, Rosé can't hide her jealousy. It's written all over her face that she's jealous. Jisoo gives her a pat on the bottom, telling her to concentrate.
Rosé can't do it. Seeing you having fun with another girl drives her crazy. You've been talking to the female soldier for several minutes now and you haven't looked at Rosé once. Rosé's jealousy explodes when the woman places a kiss on your cheek before leaving.
Rosé sees red and when you finally turn to her, you immediately notice her face. You know this girl too well. You know how to defuse the situation.
" I love you." You mime.
You can clearly see the shock on Rosé's face. You also see a goofy smile settle on the singer's face.
"I love you too. " Mimes Rosé in return.
The girls sing their last song and the curtain closes. The soldiers cheer the girls and you yell at them to go back to their rooms.
Rosé and the girls return to their dressing room, happy with their performance. Still, Rosé can't get the image of the kiss out of her mind.
"It was only a kiss on the cheek. "Jennie replies, as if she's a mind reader.
Rosé says nothing and sits down on the sofa. Someone knocks and Rosé hopes it's you, but it's only Minhyuk.
"Thanks again, girls! You guys are great. " says Minhyuk.
"You're welcome. " Replies Jisoo
"Tell me Minhyuk, who was that girl with. Y/N? " Asks Rosé.
"And here we go. " Comments Lisa
"Oh that's Lieutenant Somin. "
" And they're close? " "
" Rosé I'm not sure if I can tell you. "
" Minhyuk, it's about MY Boyfriend. "
" Yeah yeah... but he'd be the one to tell you, wouldn't he?
"Minhyuk. Tell me."
"He's going to kill me. Well... Y/N and Somin have been together for two years. " "
EXCUSE ME? " Shouts Rosé. "Is that his ex-girlfriend? " "
" I shouldn't have said anything.. " Minhyuk laments.
Rosé can't believe her ears. She's your ex-girlfriend. That means you're working with your ex-girlfriend and you never told her.
Blackpink members find this very funny. Minhyuk has managed to escape from the dressing room and Lisa sits down next to Rosé.
"You've got no right to be jealous, unnie. You've written songs about your exes. " "
It's not the same! "Rosé defends herself.
"It's all the same. "Jisoo contradicts.
"Y/N loves you, you have nothing to worry about. "Jennie replies.
"Oh and then show him he belongs to you. Grab Y/N and fuck him. "Lisa says.
Rosé doesn't wait. She stands up suddenly, despite the protests of her group. Rosé doesn't listen and leaves the dressing room. She hears Lisa's laughter and Rosé sets off in search of you.
She wanders the corridors looking for you. She passes several soldiers who don't dare move.
"Excuse me, do you know where Y/N is? "Rosé asks a soldier.
"In his room. It's just down the hall. "
" Thank you. "
Rosé starts looking for you again, and when she arrives in front of your room, Rosé opens the door without knocking. You turn around, ready to yell at the person who's just entered, but you're stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of Rosé. A goofy smile appears on your face, but it's quickly replaced by a surprised expression.
Rosé doesn't wait. She gets down on her knees and starts to remove your belt.
"Rosie? What the hell...."
You can't finish your sentence, Rosé swallows your cock. Rosé doesn't waste a second making your cock hard. The Australian puts her heart into it. The young woman's mouth is divine.
"Oh my god." You moan
Pleased to see you moan, Rosé continues her oral assault. With one of her hands, Rose caresses your balls.
You're just a toy. You're Rosé's toy. You want to say something but each time Rosé engulfs your cock in his mouth. You catch yourself on the shelf behind so good it feels.
You can't string a word together. You try to grab Rosé but the singer pulls your hands away and continues to suck you. You can see that you're not going to be able to do anything, so you might as well enjoy it. You let your girlfriend suck you off.
"Y/N Oppa, are you there? " says a voice from behind the door.
You freeze. Somin is behind the door. Rosé pulls your cock out of her mouth and flashes you a smirk.
"Rosé, no. " You say.
But Rosé doesn't care, she grabs your dick and starts jerking you off. She starts sucking your balls and you bite your tongue to keep from moaning.
"Oppa, I wanted to talk to you about the next mission. " says Somin.
You notice Rosé's aggressive jerking off.
"Later Somin. " You reply.
You hear Somin leave and breathe a sigh of relief. With your hand, you grab Rosé's chin and force her to look at you.
"You jealous bitch. "
" You never told me she was your ex," Rosé replies, sucking your cock.
You want to reply but Rosé licks your tip. Annoyed by her games, you grab her head and push it onto your cock.
"If you're going to be a jealous slut you might as well enjoy it. "
"Fuck my mouth. "Rosé looks you straight in the eye.
You grab your cock with one hand and Rosé's face with the other. Rosé opens her mouth wide and you insert your cock into the Australian's mouth.
Rosé closes her mouth and you feel her tongue lick your cock. You move your pelvis and hear Rosé gag. Rosé takes matters into her own hands, literally. She grabs your cock with her hands and starts jerking you off as she continues to suck you.
It's so good. Just yesterday you were on a mission in the middle of nowhere and today you've got Rosé on her knees with your dick in her mouth. Life is good.
"I'm going to cum. " You warned Rosé.
"Come in my mouth. "
You grab your cock and start jerking off. Rosé positions her mouth beneath your cock and you're not going to last long. The sight is too good.
After a few strokes, your cum lands in the singer's mouth. You haven't cum in a long time, so several spurts come out of your cock.
Completely exhausted, you fall off the bed and Rosé swallows your cum. The young woman stands up and kisses you. You say nothing and Rosé starts to open the door. Before leaving, she turns around and says.
"I love you, baby. See you tonight. "
You wave vaguely and Rosé says one last thing.
"Don't forget you're mine. “
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As Trevor was walking around the corner of the back lot of the office, he happened to notice Axel and Landon smoking weed on the premises. This was in strict violation of company rules. "You know you two aren't supposed to be smoking that stuff here." He spoke to them.
Axel and Landon both looked over at their coworker, Trevor. "Mind your own business. We won't get caught. We have been doing this for weeks." Landon replied. "Yeah, piss off, okay." Axel remarked back as well.
Trevor saw no need to say any more and walked off. It was really none of his business after all if they weren't caught yet.
Later that day, the manager had called everyone up to the main area. "As you all know, we have a strict no weed smoking on premisis. But there has been someone smoking in the back lot. We have found the buds on the ground." Owen paused for a moment. "Due to the plant odor, it's hard to smell the weed scent in here. So if anyone knows anything, they are encoursge to speak up." He finished and dismissed everyone.
Trevor went up to Axel and Landon. "You know I should report you two." He spoke softly so that only those two heard his words. "You would lose your jobs, I bet." He added.
Axel and Landon looked a little nervous. They were both already on their second strike for violating company rules. If there was a third, they would be fired for sure. That resulst they didn't want. "What do you want to keep your mouth shut?" Landon asked Trevor, hoping something reasonable. "Yes, anything, we don't need a third strike." Axel also pleaded for some mercy from his coworker.
Trevor thought about it. "Come by my office in ten minutes, and I will tell you. If you don't show, I might be persuaded to talk." He spoke as he walked off heading bakc to his office. He wanted them to pondoer their options.
Riight on time, Trevor saw Landon and Axel enter his office. "We are here, now what you want from us to keep your silence." Axel wanted to know so that this ordeal would be over with.
Trevor pulled out his phione and opened up his TF Pro Max app. "I want you two to be my perfect socks to keep my feet comfortable. I never had living socks before." He stated his request to the strange look on their faces.
"Let me get this straight. You want us to be literal socks willing?" Landon asked in disbelief. Trevor nodded back in response. Both laughed at the thought of being socks.
"I guess I should call the manager then." Trevor threatened while smiling back at them.
"Even if it was possible, It's worth keeping your silence. We will be your socks." Landon spoke, not believing that would ever happen.
Travor pointed his phone at both of them and hit the flash. Axel and Landon were instantly turned into a pair of whites socks. He went around his desk and picked up the socks from off the floor. "Nice, you both look perfect. I will wear you two for about a week. I will turn you back to normal then." He sat back down in his chair and took off his old socks in favor of his new living socks. He loved how the new socks felt on his feet. He wiggled his toes in them before putting his favorite sneakers back on his feet. He caught a quick scent of the odor from his shoes. He was glad he wasn't the one being stuck in that foul stench.
Landon was totally shellshocked. He was completely wrapped around Trevor's foot and trapped in the most foul prison he could possiby think of. The shoe smell so bad it almost made him pass out if he had a physical human body. He didn't believe it was even possible to literally be a sock, yet here he was on his coworker's foot. The insoles had been so worn in that he could tell that the shoes were worn very often. They reek of foot stench of years of use. He wanted to get away form the foul odor, but was powerless to do so.
Axel was mentally begging for mercy. He found feet to be disgusting. The worst torment in his mind was to be tied up and forced to smell another guy's foot. He saw that being turned into a sock was worse than that. He was trapped in as stench that smelled like rotten eggs and sour milk with no way of escape. The very foot kept him trapped in his shoe prison, which made him feel so degraded and humiliated. He would have rather the guy rat on them than this existence. The excruciating pain of being walked on made it unbearable in his mind. He was now just an object on his owner's foot. The fact that this would be for a whole week only to keep one secret made it not worth agreeing to this. He mentally pleaded for Trevor to change them back to normal. He didn't want to be a whole week on his foot.
THREE WEEKS LATER.....
Trevor relaxed in his office with his socked feet propped on his desk. He had been wearing the same pair of socks for the past three weeks. Someone had also noticed Landon and Axel smoking weed in the back lot and reported it to the manager two days after he had turned them into socks. Seeing how this would have been their third strike, their employment in the company would have been terminated anyway. At least as his socks, they still had a job. Their new job would forever be to comfort his feet and to absorb all his foot sweat and funk.
But Trevor did enjoy other uses for his living socks. They made good cum rags as well. He took advantage of that on multiple occasions over the past three weeks. He often thought about what his socks were feeling now that they were permanent footwear. Unfortnantly for them, he had erased their datat them moment he heard they were reported. There was no need to change them back to normal now. They were just better of as his dirty, smelly socks.
#inanimate transformation#foot domination#shrinkage#tf story#permanent transformation#unwilling permanent transformation#sock transformation
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