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navybrat817 · 2 days ago

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Behind Closed Doors

Pairing: Local Figure!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky didn't have a great day, so you help him unwind.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Established relationship, implied sex, light fluff, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by an ask from @yenzys-lucky-charm, so I'm also submitting this for her Cranky, Grumpy, Stabby! Oh, My! Challenge (🗡️ A: Smoothing out the crease in Cranky’s frown while straddling their lap B: Cranky character melts, pulling them in for a kiss). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky tossed his jacket away and loosened his tie the moment the front door shut. In public, he had to maintain an image of confidence and controlled passion, carefully toeing the line between showing too much or too little emotion on the issues at hand. When things didn’t go his way, he couldn’t lash out or show defeat. Behind closed doors, he could allow himself to be a bit cranky. He didn’t have to put on a show.

With you, he didn’t have to put on a show either.

“Go sit, and I’ll make you a drink.” It wasn’t a suggestion. He didn’t drink often, but it was a rough day and you sensed that he needed one. If the drink wasn’t enough to help him unwind, you were sure you could think of something else.

Bucky kicked his shoes off before he took a seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Town Hall meeting should've gone off without a hitch, but Nick just had to show up and run his mouth.” His hands curled into fists when he grumbled, “Fucker.”

Bucky was never a fan of Nick Fowler. The man had a way with words and had experience, he’d give him that, but the guy wasn’t trustworthy. Too many secrets, too many people in his pocket. Some would say Bucky wasn’t trustworthy either since he was also a local figure, but he cared about his town and only wanted the best for everyone who lived there. He couldn’t say the same for Nick since he was only out for power and would step on anyone to gain it.

“It was rocky at times,” you said carefully, pouring him a glass of whiskey. Being overly optimistic would’ve been an insult, and he valued honesty since it was sometimes difficult to know who was telling the truth in his line of work. “But it ended on a high note.”

“He still proposed to cut funding for the library, and people agreed with him. It’s struggling as it is, and it needs the money,” he muttered, his steel eyes softening when you brought his drink over. “I swear he only proposed to cut funding to piss me off.”

Education was important to Bucky. The library, in particular, held a special place in his heart. It strived to create a welcoming and inclusive environment for the community, offering free resources to all. More than that, it was a space where history was preserved, and where people could feel valued and respected. It brought people together.

“And it’s working,” you pointed out, running your fingers through his soft caramel hair once you sat down and earning a sigh in response. “I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to let him get under your skin.”

Nick getting under Bucky’s skin meant he was losing, and Bucky wasn’t a man who lost.

“I’m trying,” he promised, taking another large sip and drawing your attention when he licked a drop from his lips.

You had to blink so you wouldn’t let his sexiness distract you from making him feel better. “Don’t forget, you have a fundraiser right around the corner,” you reminded him. There were people who would love to make a contribution to one of his passion projects, including the library.

His shoulders relaxed the more you played with his hair. “That’s true.”

“And listen, if I could get away with it, I’d wear my ‘I READ BANNED BOOKS’ shirt when I attend just to make you happy,” you teased.

That got a chuckle out of him. “That shirt got my attention.”

Going to that Town Hall meeting was one of the best decisions you ever made. “If you think that got your attention, wait until you see the dress I’m wearing.”

Closing his eyes with a groan, you had no doubt he was imagining it. He had an amazing suit picked out and you got something to not only match but something to drive him wild. “As long as John doesn’t show up and hit on you,” he tried to joke, but there was an edge to his voice.

As if the meeting wasn’t enough to put your man in a bad mood, bumping into John Walker after was the icing on the cake. If there was someone Bucky couldn’t stand more than Nick, it was John. The arrogant public worker rubbed him the wrong way, demanding respect and trust when he hadn’t earned it.

“We both know he wouldn’t stand a chance,” you said. Gorgeous looks aside, Bucky had you hooked from the beginning because of who he was. No one else could compare.

“If he tries anything…” Bucky could cut men down with a mere look, but people like Nick and John liked to push.

Taking the glass from his hand and setting it aside, you slowly straddled him. “You’re still cranky.”

“I’m not trying to be,” he whispered, resting his hands on your hips. Of course, he wasn’t. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked to dwell in any unpleasant headspace or emotions.

“I know. You had a rough day, and you have every right to be cranky. But I also know that the smile I love is in there somewhere,” you smiled. Bringing your hands to his face, you smoothed out the creases in his frown. His body went lax beneath yours when you did it again. “I just need to find it… Ah! There it is.”

Something you loved about Bucky was that he smiled in different ways before his mouth moved. He did it with his eyes, something so warm and loving that only you could see. Some days you heard it in his voice, in the tone he used and the words he chose. Even the way his body relaxed with you was a smile, happiness blooming from his core.

And Bucky was smiling when he pulled you in for a kiss.

Your heart tried to beat right out of your chest when he hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Tasting the whiskey when his tongue slipped past your lips, you moaned. The kiss was full of hunger, eager to take what you were willing to give. There was a hint of desperation, like he was trying to use your mouth to chase his bad mood away. Above all, it was vulnerable, a side of himself he trusted you enough to show.

“You’re too good to me, sweetheart,” he whispered, rolling his hips up and making you moan again. “But I’m still a little cranky.”

“Is that right?” you smiled, rocking your hips teasingly just because you could. Making the powerful man hard made you feel powerful. “Are you proposing that I do something about that?”

The fingers on your waist flexed. “I’ll make it worth your while if you do.”

“Promises, promises,” you teased.

“I keep my promises,” he pointed out. In a world of liars and cheats, Bucky was a man of his word.

“That’s true.” You pretended to think about it when he thrust his hips up with a small growl, heating up your core more. “Okay, fine. Rest back so I can make the crankiness go away.”

And knowing Bucky, he’d make sure you felt nothing but bliss, too, before the night was over.

I know, lovlies, I don't need more AUs, but I would give him everything and more. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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sierrale8ne · 2 days ago

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something about you / juju watkins x fem!reader PART OF THE $$$4U COLLECTION ‘ i’m tryna do something explicit. you askin me what i like about you, girl how long you wanna sit in this kitchen? ’

summary a few substances and some conversation has juju realizing that no time apart is gonna stop her from wanting you. warnings sexual content, smoking, fingering from lena “in the morning” yeah yeah i’m a liar we already knew that next 🙄🙄 here’s the first post of my lil collection and my first juju fic because y’all alr know… that’s my lil shit.

The chime of the bell is what causes your attention to shift from your spot behind the counter. You’ve been working at the smoothie bar on campus for quite some time now, any chance to get more money in your pocket and your roommates off your back.

It was a slow day today, luckily for you, the wind of southern California kept majority of your peers bundled up and in their own dorms rather than the commons or in the store.

Until now.

You’re cleaning the counter top, paying attention to every crumb that lands on the floor that you’ll have to sweep— when you see her.

It was hard not to recognize her, the typical baggy jeans and graphic hoodie, her Nike dunks thudding across the floor as she walks in, and a slicked back bun, different than her everyday game bun. Anyone on campus would be able to see her and point her out, the Juju Watkins.

But you recognize her for other reasons, as the only person in the world who knew you like no one else did.

You haven’t seen Juju in a few weeks, all thanks to her efforts in bringing home a national championship. But still, even through all that, she never once made you feel left to the side. You were involved in every moment of her life— texts, calls, FaceTimes— Juju made an effort to show you that she really did like you. That she cared.

She walks towards the counter, one hand gripping her wallet and the other tucked into her pocket.

“What’s up, baby?” She smiles, and it makes you smile at how her eyes scrunch together. Juju’s perfume travels over the expanse of the counter and to your nose, smelling just as good as you remember she did.

“What are you doing here, Ju?” You ask. It takes everything in your body to hide the blush growing on your face. By second nature, you start ringing her up for her smoothie— mango and peach with extra vanilla protein.

She shrugs, digging in her wallet for her card. “We ain’t linked up in a minute. I gotta pay my girl a visit, y’know?”

You nod, watching the way the girl never takes her eyes off you, even as she pays for her smoothie. Her card lazily held in the tips of her fingers. “Your girl?”

“Stop playing.” Juju shakes her head.

“Judea. You just tipped me 20 for a six dollar drink.” You groan. She was never shy to make a show of how much she liked you, even if you made it clear that money wasn’t the way to do that. It seemed to have fallen on deaf ears, though.

The only lights left in the store are the ones low ones over the tables and the white light over the blenders, dim, but just enough for you to see the red haze over her eyes. “Maybe it’ll make you work faster so we can get outta here. I just wanna see you tonight.” Juju explains.

“I’m closing tonight, love.”

“Okay? When you finish?” She questions. You ignore her briefly, enough to turn your back and start on the athlete’s smoothie.

It gave Juju the opportunity to run her eyes over you. You wear black leggings that hug the curve of your ass perfectly. Your uniform shirt is cropped just enough to give her a view of your lower back. The bright lime green of your apron is nearly blinding, but also looks beautiful on your skin. She can’t seem to take her eyes off you.

“I get off in 30!” You yell over the sound of the blender, looking over your shoulder to see that nothing you said has registered in her head. “Ju?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. You said what, mama?” Juju blots her lips together, glossy and slightly rosy. They look plump and a part of you wants to jump over the counter and kiss them until all the breath in your lungs gives out.

Her eyes meet yours, and just by the look in them you know she’s not lying about wanting to see you. It’s something, almost a sparkle, that you haven’t seen in so long. She wants you.

“I get off in 30.” You repeat, handing the girl her drink.

“I’ll wait right here then.”

You cradle Deuce in your arms, the dog being quite happy to see you in Juju’s apartment again. Her hoodie is long gone, tossed somewhere on the couch which leaves her in a cropped shirt that puts her abs on display.

The seat of her kitchen counter gives her only a few inches over you as you both talk. That seemed to be what you guys did often, picking each other’s brains apart for any and everything.

“How’s school goin’?” Juju asks in between puffs of smoke. The joint rests lazily in her fingers, teasing her bottom lip. Her eyes are already low, raking over you like you were candy. And the slope of her lashes was not helping you keep your cool.

That’s how it always seemed to be with Juju, she could do nothing— but also doo too much— and you still be completely enamored with her.

“It’s alright. Stressful, but s’nothin’ I can’t handle.” You nod, darting your eyes to the joint she passes off to you. “And you? Though I doubt you’re even focused with all this basketball shit.”

You take a puff, the drug swirling through your lungs and messing with your head before you breathe it out. The slight haze traveling through the yellow light of the kitchen.

“What? I’m focused. Sometimes.” She hums and you let out a laugh.

For as long as you’ve known the athlete she’d claim that school comes first, and then as the season continues it becomes pushed to the back burner. She had one goal— or really two— win a natty, and get the girl. You.

“Just sometimes?”

“Why else do you think I play worse when I see you? You’re the distraction, mama.” Blushed. You’re blushed fucking red. And Juju can’t help but smirk at it, she finds you adorable.

Deuce fights in your arms, and you make quick work of setting him on the floor. “Can I ask you something?” You question her, passing over the joint back.

“Of course.”

Your tongue tingles at the thought of the words about to come out of your mouth. You and Juju liked each other, that was clear— but what wasn’t was why things were still kept under wraps. Why she never asked you out officially and honestly why you didn’t do the same.

“What do you like about me, Ju? ‘Cause you keep sayin’ you do, but we’re not moving anywhere.” You trail off, feeling a little small under all six feet and two inches of her.

She ashes the joint, crossing her arms over her chest before making her way over to you. The tension is thick, almost too thick to even focus on anything other than the warmth that spreads through your body.

“How long do you wanna sit here, baby? I could talk about you for hours. It’s just… something about you, got me hooked from the minute I met you.” She explains. You look at how she plays with her fingers, almost like she was nervous. But you know her, Juju doesn’t get nervous. Especially with you.

“I-I dunno, I just feel like—”

“You don’t think I want you?” She wonders. Juju trails closer, hands pressing to the counter on each side of your thighs. “‘Cause I do. I could show you?”

Don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it. The words repeat in your head over and over again. But she’s standing here, smelling like lavender and something else that’s distinctly Juju Watkins. Her eyes are serious, telling you that everything she’s said isn’t a lie. And then you’re thinking about how long it’s been since you’ve even kissed her, weeks, maybe even a full month.

You remember it like it was tattooed in your brain. Just before Valentine’s day. She came to your job with flowers, much to the dismay of your coworkers. You two drove around for hours, Brent Faiyaz and Frank Ocean filling the car until you stopped at the beach. She kissed you with a purpose, so much so that the air left your lungs and all other thoughts left your brain.

You miss it.

“Show me, Ju.” You murmur, widening the gap between your legs for her to stand there.

Juju doesn’t even waste time. She grips your thigh with one hand, snaking her other into the crook of your neck and pulls you in. Your eyes flutter shut and her lips meet yours. Soft and even sweeter than you remembered.

Her lips glide against your own— slow— like she was savoring the moment. And she was, the tournament was approaching and it wasn’t clear the next time she’d be able to have you like this.

She breaks the kiss and you groan in disapproval, chasing after those plump lips before you can even think not to.

“That’s good enough? Or—”

“More.” You sigh, tugging her back to you by her jeans. “I want you, and I want more.” Juju presses her knee closer to your cunt as the kiss grows hungrier. Her mouth opens further, tongue darting out to slide against your own tongue. Like she was begging for more, begging for entry with a small whine. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you dizzy with need.

Juju digs her hands into the band of your leggings, snapping the elastic onto your hip. “Can I?” She mumbles against you.

It’s your turn to break the kiss, licking the saliva string between you both. Her eyes stare into your soul, deep and full of longing. She’s yearning for you, you see it how she grips your clothes, how her legs just slightly buckle.

“Yes. Please.” You whine, spreading your legs further.

The athlete leans into your neck, sniffing the fruity scent that lingers on you from work. Her lips find your sweet spot as she kisses along your skin. “Smell so good, baby. Taste even better.” She smiles against you.

“Ju, I need—” Your plea is cut off by the feel of her fingers inside your pants. She trails them down to your clothed cunt. Copping a feel of your clit through your panties.

“I know. You’re soaked. Just need me so fucking bad, yeah?” Her voice rings in your ear while her middle finger applied the kind of pressure that made your legs shake. You gush almost instantly, more of your slick drenching the fabric.

You nod fast—anything to get her to speed up—but you mean it. “Need you so bad, pretty girl.” Your hand holds the back of her neck, fingers toying with the flyaways of hair that reside there. “Please?”

“I don’t know, baby. I wanna make you my girl first.” She teases. Her fingers don’t stop, still running up and down your covered slit.

“Ask me.” You pant. Your hips buck up in need, free hand clutching the hem of her shirt.

Juju’s face comes back to view, looking down at you with a smirk she can’t hide, not in the slightest. “Y’sure? Here? Like thi—”

“Fucking ask me, Ju.” You stutter, and she doesn’t miss it.

She can’t miss it. How your mouth hangs open and your pants huff into her ears. You’re dying for it, for more. For anything she can give you.

“Will you be my girlfriend, beautiful? Please?” She smiled. Her fingers hook into your panties, tugging them to the side. Enough for the air to make you shiver, but not enough for her to touch you fully. She was leaving you on edge.

“You make your girlfriend feel good?” “You joke.

“Y’know I will, mama.”

“Then yes. Yes, baby, I’ll be your girlfriend.” Juju’s fingertips brush over your clit. Once, twice— and then the third time, she’s slipping her middle finger inside your pussy. Biting her lip as she does so.

“Take your shirt off.” She orders. Her voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, at least when she was with you. So you listen. Dragging your hands off her body and to your work shirt. It hits the floor with a thud that is ultimately drowned out by the sound of your moan.

She’s good. Better than you even imagined. Her finger is long, brushing along your g-spot with nearly every stroke. And when she curls them, God, it makes your eyes water.

“You feel so good.” You whimper, gripping the edge of the counter like your life depends on it. Juju relishes in the sounds you give her, not even the moans but your cunt. It’s loud, ringing in her ears as she slips another finger inside.

“Yeah? Who’s makin’ you feel this good, mama.” She asks, holding her bottom lip between her teeth.

Your head falls back, eyes rolling as she speeds up. “Y-you. You, baby. Only you, Ju.” You babble.

“Remember when you used to say you ain’t want me?” She starts, twisting her fingers in and out until your panties are all sloppy and you’re soaking your leggings. “Look at you now, legs shaking. Pussy just screamin’ for me.”

“Juju! Oh, fuck.” You grunt, meeting her halfway with each push of her fingers. Her hand trails up to your chest, squeezing your breast with a haste that makes you want to give her any and everything that she pleases. “I can’t—”

“Can’t take it? Really? ‘Cause I know you’re not a quitter. Ain’t nothing you can’t handle, right?” She hums, pressing her plump lips to your cheek.

You can smell the weed off her breath, the mango of her smoothie. And it’s all overstimulating.

Juju curls her fingers, and she knows she’s hit your spot when you nearly fly into her hold, arms wrapped tightly around her neck.

Your breath hits her ear, alongside the pleas of her name. “I’m so close.” You all but cry.

“Imma make you cum?” The question is rhetorical, she knows the answer. The way your body says all the words you don’t. “Yeahhhh, gonna make it feel good for you, baby. I promise.”

“Fuck, don’t stop! Don’t, Ju.” Your moans nearly make the athlete go blind with arousal. Soaking through her own underwear and they thought of having you finish here. On her kitchen counter.

“Lemme feel it. Cum, mama.”

It takes one more push of her fingers to make you nearly fall off the counter. Your legs tremble and your hands clutch Juju’s shoulders like a fucking life line. She works you through it, leaving kisses along your earlobe until she finally drags her coated fingers out of you.

They travel to her mouth, where she makes a show of licking them clean of you. Your eyes make sure they’re fully open to get the view, you’d rather die than miss it.

“Goddamn you taste good.” Juju groans, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Just something about me, I guess.”

🔖 @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @d3arapril @wbbgetsmewetter @ryywyd @tndaqlwifwy @ykylalex @ohmybueckers @flipthepaige @janaelalfysblunt @cherryswisherz @courtsidewithlani @vamptizm @bdbueckers @makethemhoesmad @omg-imtumbling @avvwritesstufff

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#juju watkins #juju watkins x reader #juju watkins smut #usc wbb #wlw smut #lesbian #my fic #$$$4u collection

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pandapetals · 2 days ago

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sunlight & sawdust

chapter two: tulips & testers

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: For two years, Joel Miller has done nothing but scowl at you from across the room, barely tolerating your warmth, your kindness, and your ever-present sunshine. And for two years, you’ve told yourself his gruffness doesn’t bother you—that his clipped words and cold stares don’t matter. But then, out of nowhere, he offers to fix the damaged floor in your flower shop. For free. Suddenly, the man who could barely stand to look at you is showing up every day, fixing things that don’t need fixing, sharing quiet lunches, and—most shocking of all—getting along with Ellie, your daughter, who has never warmed up to anyone as quickly as she has to him.

pairing: joel miller x fem!single mom reader - no outbreak/au

content warnings: slight reader description, no y/n used, grumpy joel, grumpy x sunshine trope, ellie is reader's daughter, reader is a single mom, tommy being a meddler, reader is friends with tommy, au setting in Austin, joel is a carpenter, reader owns a flower shop, fluff, angst and eventual smut, joel is bad at feelings, sarah mentioned

a/n: divider by @saradika-graphics.

Joel found himself back at the shitty diner with Tommy for lunch—again.

It was his brother’s favorite spot, always raving about how it had the best food in town. Joel wasn’t convinced. The place was worn down, the vinyl seats cracked, and the walls yellowed with time. The overhead fan rattled like it was one bad day away from falling, and the jukebox in the corner was stuck on some old country song.

Still, the food wasn’t bad. Not that he’d ever admit it. The service was always solid, too, even when the place was packed.

He slid into the booth across from Tommy, about to glance over the menu when something familiar stopped him.

A scent. Soft, floral. A hint of something sweet.

His shoulders stiffened.

Before he could look up, your voice cut through the low hum of the diner.

"I should’ve known you’d be here."

Warm. Easy. Meant for Tommy, not him.

Joel already knew who it was before he even lifted his gaze.

Tommy grinned wide as you approached, his whole face lighting up like you were the best part of his damn day.

Joel felt his mood immediately sour.

But when he finally looked up and saw you, something in his chest tightened, stealing the air out of his lungs.

You stood there, sundress swaying just slightly, a soft floral print skimming the tops of your knees. Your hair was loose, falling in gentle waves around your shoulders, and tucked behind your ear was a single pink tulip.

It should’ve been ridiculous. Too much. Too soft.

And yet, Joel couldn’t stop staring.

"Have you ordered yet?" you asked sweetly, directing the question at Tommy.

He shook his head, grinning.

"I can order you some pancakes," you offered with a teasing lilt. "Unless you’re in the mood for something else?"

Tommy chuckled. "Nah, I’ll take the pancakes—best in town."

Joel barely heard him. His eyes were still on you. Had you always been this—

His jaw tightened. He looked away, grabbing the menu, suddenly far too aware of himself.

This was nothing. Just you being you. Too sweet, too kind, too…

Joel clenched his jaw harder.

"You want anything? I’m gonna order me a burger."

The question caught him off guard. He looked up, and there it was again—that warmth. The same damn warmth you always had when you spoke to Tommy. Only now, it was directed at him.

Joel should’ve shut it down, scoffed, or made some half-assed remark about how you didn’t need to play waitress for him. That’s what he normally would’ve done.

But for some reason, he held back.

"Coffee," he muttered, his voice rougher than he intended. "Black."

His eyes stayed locked on you even as the words left his mouth.

It was stupid—how his chest ached at something as simple as your kindness.

You didn’t seem to notice his hesitation. You just gave a small nod before turning and walking over to the counter, your dress swaying slightly with each step.

Joel exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

Once you were out of earshot, Tommy’s gaze immediately shifted to his brother.

Joel could feel it—the weight of it, the knowing behind it. He ignored it.

But Tommy wasn’t letting this one slide.

"You gonna be mean to her today, or you givin’ her a break?" he asked with a sigh, resting his elbows on the table.

Joel grunted, irritation curling in his gut. "Don’t start."

Tommy just stared, waiting.

Joel clenched his jaw, fingers tapping against the tabletop. "I don’t like her," he bit out, but the words tasted wrong even as he said it. "She’s…"

He stopped short when he caught the way Tommy’s expression shifted, his jaw setting in something dangerously close to disappointment.

Tommy exhaled, shaking his head. "I fuckin’ swear, Joel." His voice was low, steady. "Either admit she committed some god-awful crime against you… or admit you like her."

Joel’s face dropped. His throat felt tight. "It’s not… it’s not like that," he tried to argue, but even to his ears, the words sounded hollow.

Because the more he talked, the more he realized—he wasn’t telling the truth.

It was getting to him. You were sweet to him even when he didn’t deserve it. The warmth in your voice, the way you looked standing there in that damn sundress, all soft and glowing in the midday light. It was crawling under his skin, winding tight around his ribs, and it was pissing him off.

Across the table, Tommy’s disappointment faded into something worse—a slow, knowing smirk.

Joel groaned. He knew that look. Had seen it a thousand times growing up. It was the same smug grin Tommy wore whenever he figured something out before Joel did, the same one that meant he was about to start running his damn mouth.

Joel glared, pointing a finger at him. "Don’t."

Tommy just leaned back in the booth, still smirking.

"Tommy, shut your damn mouth." Joel’s voice was low, warning. He knew his brother. He knew exactly where this was going and refused to let it happen.

But it was too late.

Tommy let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what was unfolding before him.

His gruff, emotionally constipated older brother—who hated everybody—had a crush on the sweetest damn woman he’d ever met.

It was hilarious.

Joel’s scowl deepened, heat rising in his neck. "Tommy—"

Your voice cut through the moment before he could get another word out.

"What’s so funny?"

Joel stiffened.

You were suddenly right there, setting down plates with that easy grace of yours, sliding into the booth beside Tommy like you belonged there.

And Joel—who had spent the last five minutes convincing himself that you didn’t—was sitting across from you, hands clenched into fists beneath the table, doing everything in his power not to look directly at you.

Tommy, the bastard, was still grinning. "Oh, nothing," he said casually, far too pleased with himself as he cut into his pancakes like he hadn’t just laughed at Joel’s expense.

Joel gritted his teeth, grabbing his coffee like it might ground him.

He hated this. Hated how friendly you were and how Tommy was enjoying teasing him. Hated every damn second of this.

But most of all, he hated how hard it was to ignore you.

Utterly oblivious to the silent battle waging across the table, you reached up, plucking the tulip from your hair with delicate fingers.

Joel’s eyes tracked the movement before he could stop himself.

The way you handled it—gentle, almost absentminded—as you placed it on the table beside your plate—the soft brush of your fingertips against the petals.

It was stupid. Just a flower. A damn tulip.

But Joel couldn’t look away.

Tommy noticed.

He smirked, glancing between Joel and the flower like he had just won some unspoken bet.

Joel scowled, immediately averting his gaze, fixing his eyes on the dark liquid in his cup like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

But then, you noticed.

"Oh," you said, voice soft with realization.

Joel risked a glance up.

You looked at him now, your expression unreadable, until a slight blush crept up your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you smoothed your hands over your dress and explained, "My daughter insisted I wear it."

Joel wasn’t sure why that made his chest feel tight.

Maybe it was how you said it—soft, thoughtful, like it meant more than just a silly thing your daughter had asked of you. How you looked with that tulip tucked behind your ear, utterly unaware of how natural it seemed, how effortlessly warmth clung to you like it was just a part of who you were.

Or maybe it was the way his damn brain wouldn’t shut up about the fact that he had never seen you blush before.

"She said it would ‘help’ promote the flower shop," you explained, gesturing vaguely at your floral sundress. Your voice had a quiet fondness, like the memory itself was a comfort. "It inspired the whole outfit today."

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, of course. Ellie would insist."

Joel’s grip tightened around his coffee cup.

He knew you had a daughter. Tommy had mentioned her plenty—how she was always by your side when she wasn’t in school, how smart she was, how much she adored you.

But knowing you had a kid and realizing it were two different things.

And for some reason, it was hitting him like a freight train right now.

"Ellie did. She’s too sweet—thinks me wearin’ flowers is the best way to promote I’m a florist," you laughed, shaking your head.

Tommy grinned. "Kids do the funniest things, huh?" He took another bite of his pancakes, as easy and relaxed as ever.

Joel felt like the air had been knocked out of him.

He brought his mug to his lips, taking a slow drink, hoping the bitter heat of the coffee would settle something in his chest. It didn’t.

Because his mind wouldn’t stop.

Would Sarah have done the same? Would she have insisted on something ridiculous like that, her voice full of certainty, eyes bright with excitement?

She would’ve. He knew she would’ve. She had that same kind of heart—the kind that saw good in the smallest things.

The realization sat heavy, pressing down on his ribs.

You were a mother.

That fact alone had his thoughts spiraling, tangling into something messy, something dangerous.

Because you being a mother wasn’t just some trivial detail. It meant something. It meant you had someone who depended on you, someone you loved more than yourself. It meant you knew what it was like to raise a child—to have that kind of love and fear.

And Joel—he knew that fear too well.

His grip on the coffee cup tightened as you and Tommy kept talking, your voices warm and easy.

Joel stayed silent. He kept drinking his coffee, pretending it was enough to drown out the noise in his head. But it wasn’t working.

Not when you kept smiling like that. Not when his eyes kept betraying him, flicking back to you, lingering just a little too long.

"You heading back to the flower shop?"

Tommy’s voice pulled Joel from his thoughts. He blinked, realizing both of you had finished eating. Tommy leaned back in his seat, patting his stomach with a satisfied sigh, while you sat next to him, still smiling despite the conversation turning toward something less pleasant.

"Yeah," you nodded. "Did I tell you the A/C unit in the window leaked water all over the floor last week?"

Tommy’s easy expression shifted into concern. "No, you didn’t mention that. Do you need help—"

"No, I got the A/C replaced," you said with a slight huff, shaking your head. "Had a new one put in a few days ago, but it cost me an arm and a leg."

Joel’s eyes stayed on you. Even frustrated, you still had that warmth about you—like you couldn’t help but soften the edges of bad news. It was infuriating.

"What about the floor? Did it get water damage?" Tommy asked, brows furrowed.

Your smile faltered just a bit. "It did. But with the cost of the new A/C unit…" You trailed off, rubbing the back of your neck. "I can’t afford to replace the flooring right now. It’s wood… and you know that’s not cheap."

Joel didn’t realize he was frowning until his jaw clenched.

He caught something in your expression—something quiet, weary. You weren’t complaining, just stating a fact. But he could tell the stress was weighing on you.

And for some reason, that didn’t sit right with him.

"Damn, that really sucks," Tommy muttered, crossing his arms. Joel knew his brother—he hated seeing you stressed, especially about the shop. That place meant everything to you.

Joel exhaled slowly, willing himself to look anywhere but at you.

But he couldn’t help it.

His gaze flicked back, catching you lightly chewed your bottom lip, and your fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of your coffee cup. It was a small thing—probably nothing—but for some goddamn reason, it hit him square in the chest.

And then, before he could stop himself, a stupid thought formed in his head.

A dangerous thought.

He was a carpenter. He could fix it.

It would be simple—just a bit of work. It wouldn’t even take him that long, and he sure as hell wouldn’t charge you for it.

Joel immediately shoved the thought down, his fingers tightening around his coffee mug.

Why the hell should he care? He didn’t like you. He had told himself that over and over again. But now, sitting here, watching you try to brush off your worries with a smile—

Shit.

"I could fix it." The words slipped out before Joel could stop them.

The second they did, he regretted it. Not because he didn’t want to help—but because of how you and Tommy immediately turned to look at him, twin expressions of confusion and disbelief.

Tommy’s smirk was instant. Shit.

Joel exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He should’ve let it go and backpedaled before this worsened. But instead, his gaze landed on you, and before he could stop himself, he doubled down.

"How about I fix it? For free."

Your lips parted slightly, blinking at him like you weren’t sure you’d heard him right. "Joel, no." You shook your head, a quiet huff escaping you. "I couldn’t ask that of you—especially not for free."

There it was again—that damn, ever-present warmth.

It irritated him. And it also did something else—something he refused to name.

Joel felt Tommy’s smug stare burning into him from across the table, but he ignored it, keeping his attention on you.

"I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it for free," he said gruffly, shifting in his seat. "It’ll be an easy fix."

You studied him, brows furrowing slightly like you were searching for the catch.

And honestly? You should have been.

Because what the hell was he doing?

Joel Miller—the same man who spent the last who knows how long acting like you were the most enormous pain in his ass—was now offering up his time, his work, for nothing in return? Even he could admit it didn’t make sense.

Maybe this was a mistake. Perhaps you’d see through whatever was happening inside him before he figured it out himself.

But instead of questioning it or teasing him for it, you just sighed softly and sweetly.

"Are you sure?" Your voice was gentle, like you were afraid to push too hard. "I... could pay you a little bit."

Joel clenched his jaw, gripping his coffee like it might hold him together.

The truth was, he wanted to fix it. Not because he had to, not because Tommy would tease him if he backed out—but because the thought of you being stressed over something he could easily take care of bothered him.

"I’m 100% sure." Joel hadn’t meant for his voice to come out so soft. It just did.

The second the words left his mouth, your whole face lit up.

"Joel, you’re a lifesaver!" you squealed, practically bouncing in your seat.

Joel barely had time to register the warmth in your voice before Tommy let out a knowing chuckle.

He was stunned by how fast you brightened at his offer—how, instantly, the weight of your problem seemed to lift right off your shoulders. And the fact that he was the reason for it?

That did something to him.

Something unfamiliar. Something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Tommy, of course, noticed.

His smirk deepened like he already knew that your reaction would boost Joel’s ego for the rest of the damn day. Joel shot him a look, but it was too late—Tommy had already seen everything he needed to.

"Stop by whenever you’re free. No rush." You beamed at him, all soft gratitude. "Hopefully, it won’t be too much trouble for you."

Joel exhaled, running a hand over his jaw, but he couldn’t help it—his lips twitched slightly, the tiniest hint of a smile creeping in.

It had been a long time since something as simple as helping someone made him feel… useful. Like he wasn’t just passing the time like what he did mattered.

"It won’t be a problem." His voice still held that quiet softness he didn’t quite recognize in himself. "I’ll stop by later. I got time."

Your eyes softened even more—like you appreciated it. Like you really saw him.

"Okay. Thank you so much."

You stood from the booth, giving Tommy a quick, casual hug before straightening up.

"See you later," you said to both of them, flashing one last bright smile before heading for the door.

Joel’s eyes followed you without thinking, watching as you stepped outside into the afternoon light, the bell above the door jingling behind you.

The moment you were gone, Tommy snorted. "Well, I’ll be damned."

Joel tore his eyes away from the door, scowling. "Shut up, Tommy."

But Tommy wasn’t letting this one go. Joel could see it all over his face—that shit-eating grin, the barely-contained amusement.

"Don’t start."

Tommy ignored him, reaching across the table and nudging something forward with his finger.

The pink tulip.

The same one you had pulled from your hair, the one you had absentmindedly left behind on the table.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, already hating whatever game Tommy was playing.

"Oh, I’m gonna," Tommy teased, grinning as he pushed the flower even closer.

Joel rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath. He should’ve ignored it. Should’ve left the damn thing sitting right there on the table. But his fingers twitched.

Before he could think twice about it, he picked up the tulip, turning it between his calloused fingers. His thumb brushed over the soft petals.

He didn’t know why he did it—just that he needed to. Like some part of him wasn’t ready to let it go.

Tommy smirked. "You gonna keep it? Jerk off to it like it’s her underwear?"

Joel nearly choked. His entire body tensed, heat flaring up his neck and into his face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he snapped, shoving the tulip into his pocket before he could stop himself.

Tommy threw his head back, laughing. "Damn, man, you got it bad."

Joel clenched his jaw, refusing to dignify that with a response.

But the weight of the flower in his pocket—the fact that he had pocketed it—said everything he wouldn’t.

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel the last of us #fluff #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal #joel x reader #joel miller fluff

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kitkatscabinet · 15 hours ago

Text

SING FOR ME BABY

Summary: The Batboys with a famous musician for an s/o

Pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake x fem! reader.

DICK GRAYSON: Nu Metal

Everyone expects him to end up with a popstar, if anyone famous, someone typically feminine/fashionable to match his charm. They forget they're talking about the og crashout kid. After the incident that sees him stepping away from Robin and, subsequently, Bruce, he spends months thrashing bands like Limp Bizkit and Linkin Park

It's Roy that ends up introducing him to your band when he's suddenly unable to attend the concert he'd gotten tickets for. In typical Dick fashion, he forgets all about it until the day, attending on a whim and becoming a little mortified when he realises 1) he doesn't know any of your songs & 2) you're gorgeous. And oh my god, you're looking at him. You're laughing at him he swears!

He watches you smash a guitar into smithereens like it's nothing and he thinks he's in love. Actually shoves someone out of the way to catch the pick you throw.

It's you who slides into his DM's after the show, one of your bandmates having recognised him. He asks you out almost immediately, who cares if it's a little desperate? This man is determined to have you hanging off his arm by the next Wayne gala.

Being in a band lends you at least some anonymity outside of your fanbase, all of which is completely shattered once you go public with Dick. Not just because he's a Wayne and therefore pretty famous himself, but because he's so obsessed with showing you off, playing your music for anyone that will listen (and the people that don't want to).

JASON TODD: Pop

You're passing through Gotham whilst on tour when the inevitable happens, someone takes the opportunity to kidnap you. Enter the Red Hood, who just happened to be in the area.

Despite the hyperfeminine persona you display for your audiences, you know how to throw a punch. Which is the sight that greets Jason as he bursts through the window of one of the hundreds of warehouses in Gotham picked out by the amateur kidnappers, you, kicking the shit out of a thug whilst still in high heels.

For a few seconds, he forgets he's supposed to be saving you, too busy watching the woman decked out in pink sequins and glittery makeup kick ass. He gets his head in the game when a gun gets pulled and he's pulling you into his arms (totally unnecessary but he's not gonna pass up the opportunity. Hopes you don't notice how bricked up he is.)

You give his helmet a kiss of thanks afterwards, leaving a glossy mark whilst slipping him your number, neither of which he notices until hours later after a full day of patrol. He's never regretted the helmet over the domino mask more.

He can't exactly show his face in your music videos, but you can bet your ass he's not gonna let anybody but himself play the sexy muscular dude touching you up in them.

TIM DRAKE: Indie/alternative

He is the type of guy who sits with his iPad, phone, personal laptop, and even the bat computer open as he waits to snag tickets to your concert. He's getting those motherfucking backstage VIP passes if it kills him (or he has to kill someone else to get them).

Actually cries when he somehow still fails to secure one. Damian takes a photo and posts it on Twitter. Tim's too distraught to even care, that is until you message him. One of your friends showed you the post, and you thought he was cute. Bruce bursts into his room when he suddenly hears hysterical screaming, convinced his son is being murdered, only to back away slowly when Tim yells something about VIP tickets and some singer.

Nearly faints when you ask him out on a date after the show. He's sweaty, dishevelled and a massive mess after having a near-religious experience from hearing you live. He's honestly not convinced he's still alive, blacks out for a few seconds before all but screaming yes! in your face.

This man is your no.1 stan, and yes, that's a title he regularly defends on social media. Especially after you begin dating. Constantly gets into fights with the legions of lesbians who are distraught that you've got a boyfriend.

#x reader #batfamily x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader #female reader #dc x female reader #jason todd x fem!reader #tim drake x fem!reader #dick grayson x female!reader #fem reader #dc x reader

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luv-lock · 3 days ago

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How would alien!reader be once mark becomes the viltrumite emperor?

She’s still with Mark. Of course, she is. Where the hell else would she be? She’s obsessed with him. Always has been, always will be. There’s no universe where she lets him go.

Their kids? All grown up now. Still adorable little freaks, still worship her like she’s a literal god. (Which, let’s be real, she kinda is.) They inherited her looks, her instincts, and that whole creepy-but-cute thing she has going on. They love Mark, obviously, but their real loyalty is to their mom. If she told them to burn a planet down, they’d do it without blinking.

And her? She’s different now.

No more playing dumb. No more broken English. That was cute while it lasted, but she doesn’t need to act like some clueless alien anymore.

She speaks perfectly now.

And the way she acts? Completely different.

She’s not that weird, clingy little thing Mark found anymore. Now? She carries herself like the goddamn Queen she is. She’s graceful, terrifying, and always watching.

And yeah—bikini. Always.

Mark tried to get her to wear actual clothes at some point, but she laughed in his face. She hates clothes, always will. Too restrictive. Too stupid. She wears the bare minimum and dares anyone to say something.

Mark’s Emperor of Viltrum now. Big deal. She doesn’t care. He’s always been her Emperor. The only difference is now everyone else has to acknowledge it too.

And her? Yeah, she’s his wife. His Queen. His immortal, overpowered, terrifyingly devoted wife.

She takes care of him.

And I mean, really takes care of him.

If she feels him aging? She fixes it.

If he so much as feels sore after a fight? She erases the damage.

Mark is not allowed to weaken. Not allowed to age. Not allowed to die.

And he hates it at first. He doesn’t wanna be some immortal being. He doesn’t wanna be kept alive forever.

Too bad.

She never asked.

She just did it.

Because in her head? He belongs to her. And she refuses to let time take him away.

Eventually, he just accepts it. Because he loves her too much to fight her on it forever.

She’s still the best mother ever.

Doesn’t matter that their kids are fully grown, probably terrifying, and could wipe out civilizations if they wanted. To her? They’re still her babies.

And they know it.

She still touches them, still pets their hair, still hums lullabies while braiding it. (Mark has walked in on fully grown warriors sitting patiently while she plays with their hair. He does not understand it. At all.)

The worst part?

They listen to her over Mark.

He’s the Emperor of Viltrum, goddammit, but if she says something different? They follow her.

Mark: “Go handle that mission.”

Them: “Mom said we should rest today.”

Mark: “I SAID GO.”

Them: “Mom said no.”

It drives him crazy.

Nolan finds it hilarious. (We keep him alive ok?)

She’s a housewife, sure. But she’s still her.

She cooks, cleans, makes their home perfect. But she also hunts, rips creatures apart with her bare hands, and rearranges planets when she feels like it.

She nests. Constantly. She makes sure everything is safe, everything is warm, everything is exactly how she wants it.

She’s always touching Mark. Always.

If she’s not wrapped around him, something is wrong.

She still clings to him like she’s claiming him all over again. And honestly? She is.

Because he’s hers. Forever.

And she will never let anyone forget it.

#🕊️.ask #mark grayson x reader #yandere mark grayson

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captain-huggy-bear · 2 days ago

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i need kiefer being his confident and kinda cocky self but with his girl he melts so fast and is so soft and sweet to her

Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

"Hey, Kief! Fucking goal scorer!"

"Fuck, yeah I am!"

You hear him before you see him. He's loud and cocky, confidence riding his tone like it was made to be there. He's riding a high after scoring a natural hat trick, 3 consecutive goals that saw him helping the team to a solid 6 goal victory over the Sharks.

When you finally turn the corner to the locker room his back is to you, but you can already tell he's grinning, shoulders pressed back, chest puffed out, a level of cocky confidence that might well be hard to beat. He's bumping fists with his team mates, laughing and hollering back at them as they congratulate him on a hat trick.

The moment Petey points you out to him though? The moment he turns to see you stood there waiting for him, watching him while your fingers twist together anxiously? The moment that happens all that cockiness fades away, a soft smile replacing the overly exuberant grin that had been on his face. His voice lowers from the loud tenor it had been, softening at the sight of you.

"Hey, sweetheart." The way he talks to you is so much softer than before, any trace of that cockiness gone in favour of gentle, softness that surrounds you and cocoons you in warmth.

He bridges the distance between you in a few long strides, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you against his chest until your chin rests in the centre to look up at him. Kiefer is all soft smiles, eyes half-lidded and crinkled as he blinks down at you softly. No trace of the Kiefer from before left, just your Kiefer, the gentle one, the soft one, the one that holds your hair back when you're sick and rubs your belly when you have cramps.

"I'm so proud of you, Kief." You watch the way his brow furrows up, the way he chokes up at your words because fuck, he just wants you to be proud of him, that's really all that matters. He could care less what anyone else thought about him and his game, so long as his girl was proud of him.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm, you did amazing out there, baby."

If it had been one of the guys, anyone but you, his response would be cocky, 'of course I did'. But, not with you. With you the tips of his ears grow red and his eyes shift away from yours, a little bit shy, a little bit bashful, before he looks back at you.

"Thanks, sweetheart...means a lot." Kief's hands find your back pockets, pulling you tight against him as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, to your temple, your forehead, like you're the one whose scored 3 goals tonight, not the other way around.

"What do you want as a reward?" You expect him to say his favourite cheat meal or to watch a movie he loves but you hate. Instead he leans down to your ear, whispering like he's worried the guys will hear, maybe a little self-conscious, a little embarrassed about his request.

"If I say head scratches will you judge me, princess?" It's whispered so low that had his lips not been right by your ear you doubt you'd have heard it.

"You want me to play with your hair?" It's so endearingly simple of a request, to have your fingers in his hair, nails scratching his head and neck, something he loves but rarely asks for, always so focused on you and your needs first.

"...Yeah..."

"Okay." You don't dwell on it, sensing his discomfort, his embarrassment. You just kiss his chin and reassuring him in a simple way that yes, that's fine, yes, that's okay, yes, he's okay with you.

Because at the end of the day your Kief is soft and sweet and loves your hands in his hair and loves resting his cheek against your belly as you cuddle. Your Kief is the gentlest giant, a man who makes hit after hit on the ice but melts like a popsicle on a hot day when he's around you.

#huggy bear writes #kiefer sherwood/reader #kiefer sherwood x reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

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seitmai · 1 hour ago

Text

Many thoughts

The way his jaw tensed, the way his biceps flexed beneath his rolled-up sleeves, the way the veins in his forearms stood out when he gripped the pool cue. You knew better than to stare, but the dim lighting and the amber of your drink made for good camouflage.

It would be rude not to look at his beautiful forearms imo🤷🏻‍♀️

"Match made in heaven," Fanboy teased, nudging you with his elbow. You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. It was true, in a way. You and Hangman worked well together, your sharp instincts and calculated precision balancing out his reckless confidence. In the air, you made each other better. On the ground, though? That was different.

Well a Match made in heaven, sometimes is made just for the sky not the ground

Your lips twitched, but you hid your smile behind your drink, letting the glass linger against your lips. Bradley's eyes flicked toward you, quick but sharp, and for a second, you thought—no, you knew—he caught you watching. The corner of his mouth lifted, subtle, like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

👀

The moment passed, the conversation shifting, the music playing on. But as you turned back to your drink, your heart was still hammering against your ribs. Because if there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that Hangman never said anything without a reason.

Oh he sure doesn’t

Bob was still half-listening to Fanboy, nodding along as his fingers drummed against the side of his glass, but you could feel his attention flicking back to you every so often. He wasn’t obvious about it—not like Hangman, who would’ve just called you out in front of everyone—but Bob noticed things. Always had. It was part of what made him such a damn good WSO.

Of course be does

Bob didn’t press, just hummed in acknowledgment, but you caught the way his eyes lingered as you turned away. If anyone was gonna figure you out first, it would be him. You just had to make sure you didn’t give him anything more to work with.

100% it would be him (& Phoenix probably lol)

"What’s your poison tonight?" You should’ve just answered him. Should’ve just kept it casual, like you did with everyone else. But the way he was looking at you—the lazy tilt of his smile, the barely-there rasp in his voice—it made you want to push back just a little. "Why?" you asked, tilting your head. "Gonna buy me one?" Something flickered in his expression, brief but unmistakable, before he leaned in just slightly, enough that his voice was low when he murmured, "That depends." Your fingers tightened around the glass, pulse kicking up. "On?" Bradley let the silence stretch, like he was giving you time to think about it, about him, before finally smirking again. "On whether or not you’ll actually drink it… or just use it to hide behind."

Oh 👀

"You wish, Bradshaw." But even as you said it, you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince—him or yourself.

Fair 🤭

He grinned, eyes still on you as he took another slow sip—deliberate, careful, like he was daring you to look away. And maybe that was your first mistake.

Was it a mistake though? 🤔

Your back hit the wall. You hadn’t even realized you’d been inching away, hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten until there was nowhere else to go. But even now, even with the way his voice curled around your name, warm and teasing and just a little too soft, he didn’t touch you. Didn’t have to.Because the way he was looking at you—the way he always looked at you—was more than enough.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Rooster’s hands flexed at his sides, like he was physically holding himself back. Like if he didn’t, he’d reach for you without thinking. His jaw tightened, his breath uneven, and for the first time all night, he didn’t have a smirk, didn’t have a teasing remark locked and loaded.

It's taking all in him to not reach out 🫣

"Tell me no," he murmured, voice rough, low, almost desperate. "Tell me to back off, and I will." You should have. You knew you should have. But you didn’t.

Can't blame that decision 🤷🏻‍♀️

Your breath caught, your pulse hammering in your ears. Because he wasn’t just asking. He was begging. Begging for permission, for just a sign that he wasn’t crazy, that whatever this was—whatever had been burning between you for months—wasn’t just in his head. And God help you, you wanted to give it to him.

I love a begging man 😮‍💨

His lips parted at the sound of his name, something flickering in his expression—hope, relief, hunger, you weren’t sure. But his hands stayed at his sides, fists clenching, because he was waiting. He was waiting for you. "Tell me yes," he whispered. "Just once."

Easiest yes

The word barely left your lips before Bradley moved. Not rushed, not reckless, but like he’d been holding himself back for so damn long that the second you gave him permission, he couldn’t stop himself. His hands finally found you, one pressing firm and warm against your waist, the other cradling your jaw, fingers skimming your skin like he needed to memorize the way you felt beneath his touch.

🥰🥰🥰

You fisted the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he groaned—deep, low, the kind of sound that sent a shiver down your spine. His grip on your waist tightened, his body pressing flush against yours as he kissed you harder, deeper, like he needed to prove something. Like he needed you to feel how long he’d been waiting for this. "Tell me I’m not crazy," he whispered. "Tell me you want this too."

He is such a lover boy 😍

Bradley kissed you like he was starving, like he’d been waiting years for this moment and now that he had you, he wasn’t letting go. His hands gripped your waist, your jaw, like he needed to feel you everywhere at once, like he was trying to make up for all the times he’d held back.

Urgh this is so hot

But then—between kisses, between the ragged breaths you barely had time to take—he murmured against your mouth, "Why’d you join the Navy?" You smirked, tilting your chin just slightly, your hands still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. "I like dressing like the man." Rooster froze for half a second, his brows lifting slightly—then he let out a sharp, breathless laugh, his forehead dropping against yours. "God, I knew I liked you," he murmured, voice husky, and before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours again, deeper, hungrier, like your answer had just sealed something in him.

Extremely random but oh well 😂

And then he was kissing you again, harder this time, like he was proving a point, like he was making damn sure you’d never forget it because to you, he is the man.

Yeah about that, let's have discussion about that in the bedroom later on 🤭

The man's job

At The Hard Deck, Sniper—Hangman’s sharp-tongued WSO—tries to ignore her growing attraction to Rooster, but he sees right through her. After a heated exchange, Rooster pulls her into a quiet hallway, desperate for the truth, and when she finally gives in, he kisses her like he’s been waiting forever. Between breathless kisses, he asks why she joined the Navy, and when she teasingly admits it’s because she likes dressing like the men, he grins against her lips and murmurs, "I do too."

Warning: This story contains intense romantic tension, heated moments, and Rooster being utterly irresistible. Proceed with caution—you might fall for him all over again when he loses his cool.

4k words

Just saying English isn't my first language and this is crap because I got bored and wrote yap

The Hard Deck was alive with laughter, the low hum of conversation mingling with the distant crash of the waves. The scent of salt and spilled beer hung in the air, the jukebox spitting out a country song that had more than one pilot tapping their fingers against the worn wood of the bar.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin leaned against the pool table, a cocky grin playing at his lips as he chalked his cue. His gaze was locked onto Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.

"You wanna try that again, Rooster?" Hangman drawled, voice as smooth as whiskey. "Because I could've sworn you said I got lucky on that last shot."

Rooster scoffed, arms crossed over his broad chest, aviators still hooked onto the collar of his Hawaiian shirt. "You heard me just fine, Bagman. One lucky shot doesn’t make you the best."

Your fingers tightened slightly around the glass in your hand as you took a slow sip of your drink, the cool condensation slick against your skin. From your seat, you watched the exchange unfold, feigning indifference behind the rim of your glass. But your eyes weren’t on Hangman—not really.

They were on Rooster.

Beside you, Bob and Fanboy were deep in conversation, their voices threading through the noise of the bar.

"I’m just saying," Bob mused, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "a good WSO doesn’t just read the pilot—they anticipate them."

Fanboy nodded, ever the calm voice of reason. "It’s about trust. You can be the best at reading radar, but if your pilot doesn’t trust you to have their six, you’re dead in the air."

You hummed in agreement, setting your glass down with a soft clink. "It’s instinct. That’s why some pairings work better than others. Right, Bob?"

Bob smirked knowingly, glancing over at Hangman, who was now leaning dangerously close to Rooster, both men locked in a silent battle of egos. "Yeah, like you and Seresin," he said. "You two just… click."

"Match made in heaven," Fanboy teased, nudging you with his elbow.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. It was true, in a way. You and Hangman worked well together, your sharp instincts and calculated precision balancing out his reckless confidence. In the air, you made each other better. On the ground, though?

That was different.

"Hey, Snipes!" Hangman’s voice cut through the conversation as he straightened, smirking at you. "Tell Rooster here that he should quit embarrassing himself and rack ‘em up for a rematch."

You raised an eyebrow, the weight of Rooster’s gaze settling on you before you even turned to meet it.

"Don’t look at me," you said smoothly. "I just work here."

Laughter rippled through the group as Rooster smirked, shaking his head before taking a long sip of his beer. The golden liquid caught the light, and for just a second, you let yourself look—really look—before turning back to your drink.

You leaned forward slightly, resting your elbows on the bar, swirling the remnants of your drink in the glass as Bob and Fanboy continued talking shop beside you. Their conversation faded into the background, your focus slipping as Rooster set his pool cue down and stretched, arms lifting high above his head before settling back down, fingers tapping absently against the side of his beer bottle. The stretch pulled his shirt tight across his chest, and you forced your gaze away, taking a slow sip of your drink to cover the way your pulse kicked up.

"You good?" Bob’s voice cut through your thoughts, quiet but pointed. His pale blue eyes studied you with the kind of sharpness that made you wonder just how much he noticed.

"Yeah," you said quickly, setting your glass down. "Just tired."

Bob hummed in a way that said he didn’t quite believe you, but he let it go, turning back to Fanboy, who was now deep in some exaggerated retelling of a training exercise. You took the out, shifting your attention back to the room, where Hangman had just stepped closer to Rooster, that ever-present smirk still in place.

"Come on, Rooster," Jake drawled, resting his pool cue against the table. "You gonna admit I got you, or do you wanna lose again?"

Bradley scoffed, shaking his head. "Man, I swear, you could fall into the ocean and still find a way to be cocky about it."

"Damn right," Jake shot back, tipping his beer up for a slow sip.

Heat licked up the back of your neck, but before you could react, Jake clapped a hand on Bradley’s shoulder with a grin. "Come on, Bradshaw, let’s go again. Unless you’re too busy staring at Sniper over here."

Your stomach dropped.

Bradley’s jaw tightened just slightly, his fingers flexing around the bottle in his hand. But if he was caught off guard, he didn’t show it for long. Instead, he just smirked, slow and easy, before turning back to the table.

"You wish, Seresin," he muttered, racking up the balls.

And now, thanks to him, you weren’t the only one noticing where your attention kept slipping.

You exhaled, forcing your shoulders to relax as you pushed your empty glass toward the edge of the bar. "I’m gonna grab another drink," you said, keeping your voice even, casual.

Bob’s gaze lifted from his own glass, studying you for half a second before he nodded. "You want company?"

You shook your head, already sliding off the barstool. "I’m good. Be right back."

You wove through the crowd, dodging a pair of aviators deep in some animated debate over dart scores, before finally making it to the bar. Penny was a few customers down, pouring a round of shots, so you leaned against the wood, letting your fingers trail along the smooth, worn surface as you waited.

It wasn’t until you felt a presence beside you that you glanced up—and immediately regretted it.

Bradley.

He was close. Not enough to be improper, but enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne beneath the salt air, enough that you could see the way the dim bar lights caught on the gold in his hair.

"You hiding over here, Snipes?" His voice was easy, teasing, but there was an edge to it, like he already knew the answer.

You rolled your eyes, willing your pulse to slow. "Just getting another drink, Bradshaw."

He smirked, leaning against the bar beside you, his fingers tapping absently against the wood. "That so?"

You didn’t answer immediately, but you didn’t have to. Because the way his eyes stayed on you—the way they held just a little too much knowing—told you he wasn’t buying it.

Penny slid a beer across the bar toward Rooster without him even needing to ask, a silent acknowledgment that he was a regular here. He caught it easily, fingers wrapping around the bottle as he turned back to you, his smirk still in place but softer now, more amused than cocky.

"You always this jumpy, Snipes?" His voice was low, meant just for you, the rough edge of it curling around your name in a way that sent heat flickering down your spine.

You scoffed, shifting your weight against the bar. "I’m not jumpy."

"Mm." He took a slow sip of his beer, eyes not leaving yours over the rim of the bottle. When he lowered it, he let his elbow rest against the counter, his body angled just slightly toward you. "You sure about that?"

Your brows lifted, feigning disinterest. "You always this nosy, Bradshaw?"

His grin widened, like he knew exactly what you were doing. "Only when it’s interesting." He let the words hang in the space between you, light but deliberate, before nodding toward your empty glass. "What’s your poison tonight?"

You should’ve just answered him. Should’ve just kept it casual, like you did with everyone else. But the way he was looking at you—the lazy tilt of his smile, the barely-there rasp in his voice—it made you want to push back just a little.

"Why?" you asked, tilting your head. "Gonna buy me one?"

Something flickered in his expression, brief but unmistakable, before he leaned in just slightly, enough that his voice was low when he murmured, "That depends."

Your fingers tightened around the glass, pulse kicking up. "On?"

Bradley let the silence stretch, like he was giving you time to think about it, about him, before finally smirking again. "On whether or not you’ll actually drink it… or just use it to hide behind."

Your breath hitched, but before you could come up with a response, Penny stepped up to take your order, cutting through the moment. Bradley didn’t move, didn’t look away—just waited, watching, like he already knew he’d gotten to you.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to look away from Rooster’s knowing gaze as you turned to Penny. "Whiskey, neat."

If she noticed anything in your voice, she didn’t comment on it, just nodded and reached for a bottle. But Bradley? He let out a quiet chuckle, the sound warm and teasing as he took another sip of his beer.

"Didn’t peg you for a whiskey drinker," he mused, tilting his head.

You shot him a look. "And what exactly did you peg me for?"

He let his gaze flick over you, slow and measured, before shrugging. "Something smoother. Less burn."

You smirked, rolling your empty glass between your fingers. "Maybe I like the burn."

Bradley’s smile didn’t falter, but something in his expression shifted, the teasing edge softening just slightly. "Yeah," he murmured, voice quieter now. "Maybe you do."

Penny slid your drink across the bar, and you grabbed it quickly, grateful for something to do with your hands. But when you turned back, Bradley was still watching you, eyes dark with something unreadable, something you weren’t sure you were ready to decipher.

"Careful, Sniper," he murmured, tipping his bottle toward you before taking a sip. "Keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you like me."

Your stomach flipped, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you lifted your glass, letting the whiskey slide down smooth and slow before setting it back on the bar with a soft clink. Then, with your best smirk, you leaned in just a fraction, just enough for your voice to dip between you both.

"You wish, Bradshaw."

But even as you said it, you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince—him or yourself.

Rooster was still smirking when he took another sip of his beer, but when he lowered the bottle, you caught it—just the smallest trace of foam clinging to the edge of his moustache. It was barely noticeable, but once you saw it, you couldn’t unsee it.

Without thinking, you reached up, the tips of your fingers grazing his jaw as you swiped your thumb along the corner of his mouth. "You had a little—"

The words caught in your throat the second his breath hitched, his entire body going still under your touch. His skin was warm beneath your fingers, the slight stubble along his jaw rough against the pad of your thumb. You should’ve pulled away the second you fixed it, should’ve stepped back before the moment stretched too long, before the air between you shifted into something heavier.

But you didn’t.

Bradley didn’t move either, his eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable flickering behind them. Slowly, so slowly, his lips quirked, and you felt it—the way they just barely brushed against your thumb before you finally dropped your hand.

"Thanks, Sniper," he murmured, voice lower than before, rougher.

You swallowed, gripping your glass a little tighter as you forced yourself to scoff, to play it off. "Try drinking like an adult next time, Bradshaw."

He grinned, eyes still on you as he took another slow sip—deliberate, careful, like he was daring you to look away.

But you didn’t.

And maybe that was your first mistake.

You should have walked away. Should have taken your drink and gone back to Bob and Fanboy, slipped back into easy conversation about WSOs and manoeuvring and anything that didn’t involve the way Rooster was looking at you.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stayed put, fingers curling around your whiskey glass, pulse thrumming beneath your skin as Bradley studied you with that lazy, knowing smirk. The worst part? He wasn’t even trying. He wasn’t laying it on thick like Jake would, wasn’t feeding you some line just to see if you’d take the bait. He was just… there. And for some reason, that made it harder to shake.

"You always this handsy, Snipes?" His voice was smooth, laced with amusement, but there was something else beneath it. Something quieter.

You scoffed, finally forcing yourself to take a step back, putting distance between you both. "Don’t flatter yourself, Bradshaw."

He hummed, tipping his beer toward you in mock salute. "Too late."

You rolled your eyes, turning toward the crowd, desperate to pull the focus away from whatever the hell this was. The Hard Deck was still alive with energy, the Dagger Squad scattered around the bar. Hangman was now leaning against the jukebox, arguing with Coyote about song choices. Payback and Fanboy were deep in conversation, likely rehashing old stories from training. Phoenix was at the dartboard, eyes locked in concentration as she lined up a shot.

Safe distractions.

"I should get back," you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

But before you could step away, Bradley's voice was there again, softer now. "You ever gonna let me catch up to you, Snipes?"

You hesitated, fingers tightening around your drink. The question wasn’t loaded, not on the surface. But something about the way he said it made you pause, made you consider the weight behind it.

Slowly, you turned back to him, arching a brow. "What makes you think you’re behind?"

Bradley smirked, but this time, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Call it a gut feeling."

You held his gaze for a beat longer than you should have, something unspoken lingering in the space between you. Then, with a small shake of your head, you turned on your heel, slipping back into the crowd before he could say anything else.

But even as you walked away, you felt it—the heat of his gaze still following you, like he wasn’t quite ready to let you go just yet.

You barely made it three steps before you felt it—fingers curling around your wrist, firm but careful, like he wasn’t trying to stop you, just… slow you down.

"Hang on," Rooster murmured, his grip warm against your skin.

Your heart stuttered, but you didn’t stop him, didn’t shake him off. He didn’t give you the chance to. With a gentle but insistent tug, he steered you through the crowd, slipping easily between groups of aviators and locals like he’d done it a hundred times before.

You knew where he was leading you before you even saw it.

The narrow hallway just past the bar—the one that led to the bathrooms, the back exit, the only quiet place in the Hard Deck that didn’t involve sneaking behind the counter with Penny’s disapproving glare burning into the back of your head.

The second you stepped into the dimly lit corridor, away from the noise, away from the others, Bradley let go of your wrist. But he didn’t step back. If anything, he was still too close, the faint scent of his cologne and the salt air clinging to his skin.

You crossed your arms, forcing yourself to level him with a look even as your pulse betrayed you. "Seriously, Bradshaw? The hallway?"

His lips quirked, but his eyes stayed serious, steady. "Seemed like the only way to get you to actually talk to me."

Your stomach flipped, but you forced a scoff, leaning back slightly against the wall. "Talk to you? About what?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just let his gaze flicker over your face like he was trying to figure something out, like he was debating how much to say. Then, finally, quietly—

"You’re different with me."

Your breath caught.

Bradley took a step closer, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up slightly to keep your eyes on his. "You talk all that shit with Hangman. You joke with Bob, mess with Fanboy, keep up with Phoenix. But with me?" His head tilted, voice dipping lower. "You’re careful."

You swallowed hard, willing your expression to stay neutral. "You’re imagining things, Bradshaw."

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "No, I’m not." Another step, closing that last bit of space. "And I don’t think you are either."

Didn’t have to.

Because the way he was looking at you—the way he always looked at you—was more than enough.

"Tell me no," he murmured, voice rough, low, almost desperate. "Tell me to back off, and I will."

You should have. You knew you should have.

But you didn’t.

"Rooster, it's the alcohol talking."

His eyes searched yours, flickering between them, his throat working as he swallowed hard. "Snipes…" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he was trying to pull himself together, but then his voice dropped even lower, nearly breaking—

"Please."

And God help you, you wanted to give it to him.

"Bradshaw…"

"Tell me yes," he whispered. "Just once."

Your breath shuddered.

And then—

You did.

The word barely left your lips before Bradley moved.

Not rushed, not reckless, but like he’d been holding himself back for so damn long that the second you gave him permission, he couldn’t stop himself. His hands finally found you, one pressing firm and warm against your waist, the other cradling your jaw, fingers skimming your skin like he needed to memorize the way you felt beneath his touch.

And then—God—his mouth was on yours.

It wasn’t tentative, wasn’t careful. It was needy, desperate in a way that sent heat rushing through you, like he’d been dying of thirst and you were the only thing that could quench it. His lips moved against yours like he was making up for lost time, like he couldn’t get enough, like he was afraid if he let you go, you’d slip right through his fingers.

It was overwhelming and dizzying, and God, you should have stopped him. Should have pushed him away before this became something you couldn’t take back.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you let yourself sink into it, let yourself drown in him, let yourself pretend—just for a second—that this was something you could have. That Bradley was something you could have.

And when he finally pulled back, breath ragged, forehead resting against yours, his voice came out rough, almost wrecked.

"Tell me I’m not crazy," he whispered. "Tell me you want this too."

You swallowed hard, hands still curled into his shirt, your heart pounding against your ribs.

And when you finally answered, your voice was barely above a breath—

"I do."

You were just as desperate, fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer until there was no space left between you, just heat and pressure and the intoxicating taste of whiskey and beer on his lips.

But then—between kisses, between the ragged breaths you barely had time to take—he murmured against your mouth, "Why’d you join the Navy?"

You barely processed the question at first, not with the way his lips trailed along your jaw, not with the way his hands were tracing slow, burning lines down your sides. But then he pulled back just slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded but curious. Like he needed to know.

Your breath hitched, your heart hammering against your ribs. Of all the moments, of all the things—he wanted to ask this now?

You smirked, tilting your chin just slightly, your hands still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. "I like dressing like the man."

Rooster froze for half a second, his brows lifting slightly—then he let out a sharp, breathless laugh, his forehead dropping against yours. "God, I knew I liked you," he murmured, voice husky, and before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours again, deeper, hungrier, like your answer had just sealed something in him.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, "I do too."

And then he was kissing you again, harder this time, like he was proving a point, like he was making damn sure you’d never forget it because to you, he is the man.

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universefcb · 19 hours ago

Note

Hey saw your request box open. Can I request a protective pedri as husband/fiancee/bf whatever is your choice for a hurt/comfort fic. Thank you.

↬❥ Protector

Pedri Gonzalez x Reader!fem

Synopsis: He's protecting you after mean comments from the team's staff.

a/n: I really thought it was cute.

REQUESTED

warnings: cute.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

The stadium was packed, the lights were shining brightly, and the Barcelona fans were cheering with excitement. You were sitting in one of the boxes reserved for family members, wearing Pedri’s jersey with pride. Your heart was beating fast as you waited for the match to start.

Everything seemed perfect, until some of the staff members started whispering and laughing in your direction. At first, you tried to ignore it, but soon the comments started to become audible.

“I can’t believe that’s the one who managed to hook Pedri…”

“He could have had anyone, and he chose her?”

“He must definitely look at others when he is traveling.”

Your chest tightened. You weren’t a confrontational person, but those words stung. Trying to focus on the game, you looked away, but the taunts continued.

What you didn't know was that Pedri, even though he was focused on the match, had noticed something was wrong. The way you looked away and nervously fidgeted with your fingers caught his attention. During a pause in the game, he looked directly at the box and saw the employees laughing. He didn't need anything else to understand what was happening.

The tension on your face turned into contained fury. Pedri never liked seeing you sad, much less because of people who knew nothing about your relationship.

As soon as the game ended and the team left the field, you were already preparing to leave discreetly, not wanting to cause a fuss. But before you could leave the box, Pedri appeared at the entrance, still sweaty from the match, but with a serious expression.

“Love, come here,” he called, his voice firm but gentle.

You walked up to him, and before you could speak, he grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. Then, without hesitation, he turned to the employees who were still there.

“Is there a problem?” His voice carried a dangerous tone, different from the calm Pedri everyone knew.

The women swallowed hard, surprised by the direct approach.

“N-no…” one of them tried to answer.

“Funny, because I heard a few things while I was playing,” he continued, his dark eyes scanning each one. “If you think you can say anything about my wife, say it in front of me.”

Silence filled the room. You felt your face heat up, but this time it wasn't from embarrassment, but rather from a mixture of surprise and pride.

“I love this woman,” he declared, squeezing her hand. “And if anyone has a problem with that, that’s her problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take my wife home.”

Without waiting for an answer, Pedri pulled you gently, guiding you out of there.

“You didn’t have to do that…” you murmured, still surprised by his attitude.

He stopped for a moment and looked you in the eyes.

“I will always protect you,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I won’t let anyone make you feel less than the incredible woman you are.”

Your heart melted, and you just smiled, letting him take you home, where you knew you were safe—and, most of all, protected by your husband.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @p4uul0vr @nngkay @meganesanchez @bymerinott @htpssgavi @luvvpedri

#barcelonafanfic #fc barcelona #universefcb #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri imagine #pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez x y/n #pedri gonzález x reader #Pedri Gonzalez x feminine!barca #football x y/n #football x oc #football x reader #football imagine #football #my fanfiction #barcelona x reader

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tessasturns · 3 days ago

Text

TEXTS + BLURB WITH BSF!CHRIS PT. 6

blessings and riches, tessa

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (masterlist)

eventually you fell asleep, not knowing what else to do. you trusted chris, and he had known you’ve never trust anyone like that before.

it genuinely felt like a piece of you was missing. like someone who had been with you through thick and thin had turned their back on you for no reason.

you had slept for an hour or two, chris’ actions starting to exit your mind. they somehow still stayed in the back of your head, no matter what you were doing.

everything reminded you of him. drinking a pepsi? chris’ favourite soda. listening to lil skies? chris’ favourite rapper.

you decide to check your phone in hopes of a text back from chris.

sure enough it was from chris. you weren’t sure what to do, but you decide to text back an ‘be there in 10.’

anything to get the love of your life back.

you get into your car and put chris’ address in the gps. your music links up, and you hear the intro of white ferrari by frank ocean start playing.

the song that chris had played whilst he comforted you in your hardest moment.

you immediately shut the music off, not wanting to cry even more. you speed down the roads hoping to see chris as soon as possible.

you finally arrive at his house and practically sprint to the door. you weren’t sure what to do. this guy had just left the second you confessed your love for him, should you even be there?

usually you just walk right into the house, back when you were close.

the door opens in a swift motion, one of the identical boys appearing.

“oh…hey” nick says. “were you coming to see me? you know you can walk right into right?”

“uh no… i need to talk to chris” you say, wishing this awkward demeanour away.

“oh okay, he’s just in his room” the boy replies. “i’m going somewhere with matt but he won’t hurry the fuck up”

“ah i see” you say. “well come in” he welcomes you. you walk into the house, going right for chris’ room whilst mumbling a ‘bye’ to nick.

you knock at his door. “come in” a shaky voice replies. you slowly open the door to reveal the brunette sitting at the edge of his bed.

you don’t say anything, you just take a few steps and close the door behind you.

“hey” he says. “what the fuck chris.” you say in a calm yet irritated voice.

“listen i can explain-” “no you’re gonna listen to me for once chris. i trusted you! you said you would never let me go.”

“baby i panicked” he sighs. “don’t fucking call me baby, what the fuck is wrong with you? i spill my guts out to you and you leave after you said you wouldn’t.”

your attempt at being calm has slipped away, the only thing holding you together is the fact that you can’t let him see you cry.

“okay, i am sorry. could i please explain?” he asks. you sigh and nod your head, hoping its a good reason.

“i panicked. i didn’t know what was going on in my head, and i fucking panicked. i ruined our friendship and i seriously apologize for that.”

you take a deep breath before responding. “so then why would you say all that shit about not wanting to hurt me if you were just gonna do it hours later?”

“that wasn’t my intent, and i am really sorry. i just hope one day you can forgive me and take me back.” he says, looking up at you.

“chris, i don’t know if i can handle all this-” “you don’t have to do anything right now. i just want to let you know that i fucked up and i love you. so much.”

you look at the ground. how could you stay mad? you truly didn’t know what to say, but the silence was somehow comforting.

“i didn’t want to hurt you, i only left because i didn’t know if it’s what you want.” he adds.

“are you kidding? of course its what i want. i really do like you chris, but i think we just need to keep taking it slow.” you say.

“yes, of course, whatever works for you.” he smiles. “i love you”

you smile back. “i know”

since matt and nick were out, the two of you order a pizza and play games while frank ocean plays in the background.

although everything was moving fast, you managed to catch a glimpse of whats going on. it was just like the old days, playing games with each other as friends.

yet the question still stands; what are you two?

tessa’s notes… so so sorry for being inactive, i needed a break and im so sick rn:(

taglist… @emely9274 @baileysturnz @sllutty-sturniolo @chrisspussygang @ivysturnss @evansturn @sturniolosluttt @kisschriss @sheluvsthesturniolos @sparklybtch @mothstvrnz @joanakaulitz @csturnioloswifey @bee-43 @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @chrissleftshoe @matthewsangel @sophand4n4 @sturrrrnslvt

comment to be added or removed.

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storiesforallfandoms · 2 days ago

Text

scrub scrub ~ willy wonka;wonka

word count: 2883

request?: no

description: in which the quiet girl with the impossibly large debt opens up to the chocolate maker

pairing: willy wonka x female!reader

warnings: use of y/n, scrubitt and bleacher

this one is for @omeletdreamer

masterlist (one, two, three)

"What about her?"

Crunch turned to see who Willy was talking about. A young woman was scrubbing away at her assigned laundry. Where the others were open to meeting Willy and sharing their story with him, she had worked away, ignoring everyone else.

"That's (Y/N)," Crunch said. "She keeps to herself. We don't really know much about her."

Willy hummed in response, turning his attention back to her. He noticed her pausing what she was doing for just a second to glance over at him. When she saw Willy was already looking back at her, she quickly looked away. Her hands worked much quicker now, almost like she was trying to pretend she hadn't been caught.

Willy chuckled. "Well, I intend to change that."

Piper snorted. "Good luck with that, chocolate man. She's even quieter than Lottie. At least Lottie tries to interact with us."

"You're better off trying to have a meaningful conversation with Bleacher," Larry added.

Willy didn't respond. He knew the others would think he was crazy, and maybe he was, but he was going to get the quiet girl to talk to him. He had plenty of time to make it happen, after all.

~~~~~~

Willy was surprised to find out that the bedroom doors didn't lock at night, but then he remembered what Crunch had told him about the extra charges if someone tries to escape. Also, although Scrubitt and Bleacher were cruel people, Willy was sure they weren't cruel enough to block access to the bathrooms. At least, he hoped they weren't.

He hadn't been able to sleep. The events of the day had been playing in his head nonstop, preventing him from sleeping. He decided to try and go for a walk, even though it would only be around the wash house.

He figured he'd be the only one awake, but he noticed a dim light on in the main work area. Willy followed the light to find (Y/N) hunched over the mangle. One of her hands was limp on the crank while the other was on her lap, and her head was hanging forward. Upon closer inspection, Willy realized she was asleep. Hesitantly, he reached out to gently shake her shoulder. (Y/N) woke with a start, yelping when she realized she wasn't alone, which caused Willy to yelp as well.

"Shh!" (Y/N) snapped. "You'll wake the dog, and then the dog will wake Scrubitt!"

"Sorry, but someone screamed at me first," Willy retorted.

"I didn't scream. You startled me, so I yelped."

There was no use in arguing, because he really couldn't argue. He had woken her after all, so he had been the start of their accidental yelling match.

"What are you doing out here anyways?" he asked instead. "It's bedtime."

"I don't have time to sleep," she muttered.

"Seems like you were just sleeping."

(Y/N) glared at Willy before turning back to the mangle. She started turning the crank again. She was turning at such a slow pace that Willy knew she was completely exhausted. The circles under her eyes indicated that it wasn't the first night she had stayed up late.

"Why are you still working?" he asked. He didn't think she'd actually tell him, but he wasn't going to beat around the bush. If (Y/N) didn't want to tell him, then he'd drop the topic and just go back to his room.

To his surprise, she sighed and said, "I need to keep working. I can't stop."

"But why?"

Her movements slowed further until they stopped completely. She was staring blankly at the mangle. Willy could see that her eyes were starting to well up with tears, and he quickly regretted pushing the subject.

"My debt is much worse than anyone else's," she started. "Unlike everyone else, I was here for two nights before Scrubitt dropped the bombshell on me. I don't know why she waited. Extra cruelty I guess. Either way, they charged me double what everyone else got charged, you included I would imagine. So they told me I'd have to work here for roughly 60 years to pay off my debt."

"60 years?!" Willy said.

(Y/N) nodded. "And then ,despite Crunch's warnings, I tried to escape. I couldn't be trapped here for 60 years. I'll be well into my 80s by the time I'd get free. Of course, that stupid dog was at the door. Started barking like crazy. Bleacher and Scrubitt were down in seconds, almost like they were waiting. They threw me back in and tacked another 1000 onto my debt. She told me I'd be lucky to ever see the light of day again."

"But...I don't understand. Why do you work so much?"

"Because I ended up striking a deal with Scrubitt. She told me that instead of paying off my debt per day, I can work it off. How much I get cleaned and back to them will be a chunk of my debt taken off. So...I just work. I don't talk to the others, I barley sleep, I barley even eat."

"That's not healthy, (Y/N)."

"Staying in this wash house until I'm old and grey isn't healthy either. I need to get out. I can't spend my life in debt to those people."

Willy couldn't argue. His debt seemed so big and never ending, but his was only 27 years worth. He couldn't imagine having to face 60 years inside the wash house. At that point, everyone else who was currently there would be gone and new, poor souls would come in, but (Y/N) would still be there.

But even in the short few hours of Willy knowing (Y/N), he could see that her attempts to work off her debt was taking a toll on her. She looked absolutely exhausted, both physically and mentally. He was shocked she wasn't completely withering away before his eyes.

Willy reached out to touch her shoulder. (Y/N) jolted at the touch, pulling away. Willy figured that was a reasonable reaction. He spoke gently as he said, "You should go to bed."

She shook her head. "I can't. I need - "

"You need to sleep. All this hard work will be wasted if you drop dead from starvation and fatigue."

(Y/N) signed. She knew he had a point. She looked at the cloth that was halfway through the mangle. "Can I finish this one at least?"

"Why don't I help you with it?"

He placed his hand over hers on the handle. She didn't start this time when he touched her. Willy moved the handle of the mangle, watching as the cloth continued through it before coming out the other side. He also helped (Y/N) to fold it and add it with her pile for the day. She told him that Scrubitt would look over the pile during roll call and take off whatever the pile was worth from her debt. The pile was so big that Willy felt like it should be a large sum off of her debt, but knowing Scubitt she would probably take a single soverign.

Willy helped (Y/N) back to her room. He could tell the fatigue was starting to take her again. She was swaying as she walked to her room, mere moments from falling asleep. When they got to her door, she sheepishly smiled at him. "Thank you, Willy."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I never told you my name."

"I overheard Crunch introducing you earlier."

He chuckled. "I noticed you were watching."

"I wasn't very subtle."

There was a pause as (Y/N) reached for her doorknob. She quickly kissed Willy on the cheek, mumbling a soft, "Thank you" before slipping into her room.

Willy drifted back to his own room with a dreamy smile on his face.

~~~~~~

The next few days, Willy and (Y/N) became closer. She would greet him every morning, to the shock of the others. They would work together; sometimes Willy would slip some of his things onto her finished pile. No matter how much she argued against it, he still did it. It was only one or two, not enough to tip off Scrubitt but enough to help make a dent in her debt. He also started slipping her chocolates every now and then after he and Noodle started making them. At least he knew she was eating then, even if it was just a few chocolates.

The first time Willy and Noodle successfully slipped out of the wash house, Willy felt slightly guilty. He knew there was no guarantee that their escape plan would work, and it wasn't exactly a permanent escape plan, but once the two of them were outside Willy found himself feeling guilty for not inviting (Y/N) to come with them. She deserved to get to be outside, even for a short period of time. When his and Noodle's escape was successful, Willy found himself beyond excited to get back and invite (Y/N) on their next outing.

She was in her room, which Willy was glad to see. Most nights he noticed that she did go to bed when the rest of them did, which meant she was sleeping at least a little.

Willy softly knocked at the door. He excitedly bounced on his heels while he waited. He could barley contain himself as the doorknob turned and the door opened just a crack. (Y/N) peaked out at him before opening the door wide. "Wille? What are you doing?"

"Noddle and I got out?"

Her eyes widened. "You...you what?"

"I needed something for my chocolates, and we came up with a plan to go get it. And it worked!"

"Are you crazy?! What if you got caught?!"

"But we didn't! And I want you to come with us next time."

(Y/N)'s mouth opened and closed a few times. She tired to speak but it all came out as stutters. Finally, she managed to say, "I can't, Willy. If they catch us - "

"They won't! I promise. I have it all figured out. We'll be in and out, and Scrubitt and Bleacher will never know." He took hold of her hands. "(Y/N), please. Just one night."

She still looked conflicted. Willy was worried she'd say no. He'd respect her decision if she did, but he wanted her to be out. He wanted her to feel confident in the escape plan when it came time to open his chocolate shop so that she could come out with everyone else to see it.

Finally, (Y/N) said, "Okay."

Willy was beyond happy. He pulled (Y/N) into a hug, taking her by surprise. She couldn't help but chuckle at his excitement. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't excited at the prospect off getting out of the wash house. It wasn't a permanent escape, she couldn't risk attempting that and blowing her deal with Scrubitt and Bleacher, but it was a chance to be outside again. And she desperately needed that.

When Willy let her go, he said something about telling her the plan tomorrow, before rushing off to his room. (Y/N) was still smiling to herself as she closed her door and went back to bed.

~~~~~~

(Y/N) felt lightheaded as she breathed in the fresh air. She had been stuck inside the wash house for so long, constantly breathing in the smell of the cleaning supplies and steam from the hot water, that she didn't realize how cold and clean air was supposed to be. And it was chilly, instead of unbearably hot from the steam and hot water in such a small area.

It was freeing. For the first time in a very long time, (Y/N) felt free.

Willy couldn't help but smile at her.

"Hey," he said, pulling her from her moment. "I have something I want you to see."

The streets were completely empty, making everything very quiet. On normal occasions, that would probably be quite eerie. But for (Y/N), it was beautiful. It was all so peaceful. She tried to remind herself not to get used to it, but she wished she could. A life outside of the was house was so long ago that she could hardly remember it. She was suddenly yearning a lot more to free herself from Scrubitt and Bleacher.

Willy led (Y/N) to an empty building. He paused to look at her. "I know this may seem off, taking you to an empty building in the night, just us. But I need you to trust me."

She nodded. "I do."

He nodded back, then pushed open the door.

The building was empty, and desperately in need of a clean. (Y/N) could see the dust particles floating in the moonlight.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"Well...you know how I make chocolate?"

(Y/N) chuckled. "Yes, I'm very aware of that."

"Well, I came here to sell chocolate. To have my own store, to make people happy with my creations. I've had some bumps in the road, but I don't intend on letting that stop me. And this - " He made a grand gesture to the empty building. " - is going to be my shop."

(Y/N) smiled, but it didn't completely reach her eyes. "How do you intend to do that, though? I mean, I think it's a great dream to have, but Scrubitt will never let you out of the wash house to make it a reality."

"That's where this escape plan comes in. Noodle and I have Scrubitt and Bleacher so distracted that they have no idea when we're coming and going. I'm going to talk to the others and see if they'd be open to helping me set up this place. I already have the chocolate made, it's just putting my store together and getting the word out."

(Y/N) was quiet. When Willy looked at her, he noticed tears in her eyes. He quickly moved to comfort her, pulling her in for a hug.

"I like your dream," she said. "I like that you dream big. I just...I wish I could feel confident in helping you with your dream, but I...I don't know if I'll ever get free from the wash house. I don't think Scrubitt ever intends to actually let me go."

"Hey," Willy said, pulling her out at an arms length to look at her. "You will be free from there. I will make sure of it."

"You can't promise that."

"Yes I can. I will give every sovereign I make here to Scrubitt to pay off your debt, and then I'll pay off mine. I'll help the others too. Then we'll all be free. We can be free together."

"I can't let you do that, Willy."

"You're not letting me do anything. I want to do it. I want you to be with me."

Neither (Y/N) or Willy could've predicted what would happen next, but next thing they knew, their lips were touching. They weren't sure who had initiated the kiss, but they both knew they had wanted to do it so desperately that it didn't really matter who started it.

The kiss was quick as they both pulled away just as quickly as they had leaned in, but the spark it left was undeniable.

"I guess if you want to pay my debt, I can't stop you," (Y/N) said.

Willy chuckled and shook his head. "You can't."

(Y/N) rested her forehead against Willy's. He wanted to lean back in to kiss her again. He didn't think he ever wanted to stop kissing her. If it weren't for Noodle, and everyone else back at the wash house that he now considered his friends, he could be tempted to take (Y/N) and run away from here. Somewhere so far away that they wouldn't have to worry about the police dragging them back to Scrubitt and Bleacher. Somewhere that they could be free together, and run the chocolate shop properly without having to sneak around.

But he couldn't do that. He had more people he needed to help, and he wasn't about to concede to Slugworth, Fickelgruber, and Prodnose. He was going to start his chocolate shop right here, just like he planned. Except now, he had someone who made the dream so much more worth it.

"I think you're going to do great things, Willy," she told him. "I can feel it."

"I really hope I do."

To Willy's delight, she leaned in to kiss him again. He held her close, and they both allowed themselves to forget that this moment was only temporary. Soon enough, they'd have to go back to Scrubitt's and sneak their way back into the wash house. Willy wasn't too concerned about that, though. Besides the fact that he was very sure Scrubitt and Bleacher would still be preoccupied, he also didn't dread going back there anymore. Not when he could have (Y/N) in his arms like this. Because whether his chocolate shop failed or succeeded, whether or not he truly did make enough to pay off both of their debts to Scrubitt, Willy knew he would have (Y/N).

And right now, that's all he really needed.

#willy wonka #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka imagine #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #wonka #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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v4mpiirew1tch · 15 hours ago

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untitled padded little bakugo fic!! uhh,

comfort, fluff, bkdk, little bakugo & cg izuku

1402 words,,

Katsuki sits with his shoulder against the wall as he sits on his boyfriend’s bed, legs pushed to his chest with his arms wrapped around him as he tries to focus on the cartoon playing from Izuku’s phone, instead of his very real issue.

Izuku, who’s only an arm’s length away from him, has no idea that he needs to be changed and Katsuki is trying everything he can to keep it that way. Just a few moments ago, he complained that Izuku was “too close” when he’s never complained about that before.

Usually, he’s the one urging them to cuddle or sometimes even crying when his boyfriend doesn’t have him wrapped up in his arms or in his lap while they watch television together.

But now, because Katsuki decided to hold off going to the bathroom because he needed to watch one more episode, he’s feeling wet, uncomfortable, and most importantly—ashamed for even putting himself in this situation in the first place.

Unlike some of their other friends who regress, Katsuki doesn’t necessarily need to wear a diaper or any other kind of protection. It’s true that he can regress to the age of three years old, but fortunately the chances of wetting the bed isn’t as high as anyone else.

His real issue is his attention or holding things off in favor of other activities. Izuku can count on one hand the times that he’s suggested that Katsuki should maybe take a break from playing tag with Eijirou or Shoto and use the bathroom, only to shout back at him with embarrassment that Izuku can’t tell him what to do and he’s not the boss of him.

And every single time, without fail, Izuku has to shush his poor, weeping baby and hold his hand as they make their way to the bathroom so he can get cleaned up.

And now, holding himself as he hopes with all his heart that Izuku doesn’t somehow notice that he’s wet, is feeling like he’s going to burst into tears at any moment.

“Kacchan?” His boyfriend suddenly calls out to him, “Are you okay?”

Katsuki jolts. With a shaky breath, he wipes his nose and ducks his head into his arms, “‘M fine…”

Izuku frowns, inching a little closer. “...Are you sure? You’ve been quiet for so long, baby, you’re usually so vocal.”

For a moment, they’re both quiet. Izuku knows deep within his heart that his Kacchan would never be this quiet if there wasn’t a good reason for it.

His mind wanders to the possibility that maybe he’s grumpy because he’s hungry or simply tired, but, one, if Katsuki wanted a snack, he would let Izuku know. Very loudly. And two, he’s already learned the body language that Katsuki gives when he needs a nap, and it definitely isn’t the one he’s giving right now.

So there’s only one other reason why Katsuki would be acting like this, and it’s a situation that he’d been thinking about ever since Katsuki agreed that he needs protection when he’s little.

Already having almost every possibility in his mind for the way this conversation could go, he decides that he needs to be as gentle with Katsuki as possible.

He reaches over to grab his boyfriend’s hand and asks, “…Do you need to be changed?”

Katsuki’s shoulders start to shake as the sob he’s been holding in since he realized he was wet in the first place. He hiccups, “I dunno…”

“You don’t know?” He asks, gently.

Katsuki shakes his head, not yet wanting to admit it.

Izuku folds his hands in his lap patiently. He coos, “Do you feel wet, baby?”

As soon as he sees tears slipping out of his eyes and sobs escaping Katsuki’s mouth, Izuku pulls his boyfriend in and gives him a hug. It’s less of a stressful cry, more akin to a baby who’s simply upset.

Izuku never discourages Katsuki from crying, in fact encourages him to sometimes because he knows it’ll make him feel better to let it all out. But right now he can’t help but shush his boyfriend as he pulls him into his lap and wraps his arms around him.

“Ohh,” He whispers, rocking Katsuki in his arms. “This is all still scary, huh?”

Katsuki nods his head with a pouty lip. He whimpers, tears dampening his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Y-Yeah…!”

Izuku hums, pushing his blond hair back and pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I know, Kacchan. It’s okay to be scared.”

Hearing that, he digs his face deeper into Izuku’s shoulder. It was such a conflicting feeling, needing to wear protection. But deep down, he knew that being padded made him feel safer, knowing that there would be no more switching his uncomfortable, wet pants for cleaner ones when Izuku had to change him in the bathroom.

When Izuku moves slightly, Katsuki whines and holds onto his shirt to keep him seated. “I’m not going anywhere far, I promise!” Izuku tells him. “I just need to grab my supplies so we can get you changed, okay?”

Katsuki’s rubs the tears away from his eyes, “Okay…”

Izuku sits him back on the bed, which Katsuki whines at again. “You’re okay Kacchan, I’m right here.” He assures him, rubbing his knee as goes and reaches under his bed.

Katsuki watches him pull out an orange diaper bag that’s patterned with cutesy cartoon characters and sit it on the bed. Izuku stands up from the bed, unzipping the bag and taking out a clean, fluffy towel.

With a smile, he lays the towel out near the edge of the bed and pats it for his boyfriend to sit on. “Over here, Kacchan!” He gently encourages.

With a wobbly bottom lip, he scoots on top of the towel. But he’s surprised when Izuku suddenly gasps. “Oh my gosh! I almost forgot something…!”

Katsuki blinks at him confused as he digs back into the diaper bag and pulls out a similarly orange pacifier along with a bear plushie.

“Your stuffie!” Izuku beams, handing it to his little one.

The biggest smile spreads on Katsuki’s face. “Bear!” He says as he holds his plushie in his arms. Taking the opportunity, Izuku pops the pacifier into his mouth and he watches it bob against Katsuki’s lips.

With him distracted, Izuku gently lies Katsuki down on the fluffy towel. Katsuki can feel his sweatpants being undressed, his shirt pull up slightly, and hears the tapes of his diaper being pulled off.

It’s disposed of in a nearby mini trash can and Izuku makes a mental note to empty it out before the night is over. While Katsuki’s still feeling okay, sucking on his pacifier, he grabs a clean diaper and starts pushing it under Katsuki’s bottom.

Izuku coos at him, tickling Katsuki’s stomach, which makes him giggle so much that his pacifier almost falls out.

He giggles back, taking out lavender scented baby powder and baby wipes. This is the part where Izuku needs to be really gentle. He soothes Katsuki’s whines by shushing him again as he cleans his bottom and parts with the baby wipes.

“Shh, we’re almost done Kacchan.” Izuku tells him, sprinkling a decent amount of baby powder onto him. “And you’re doing really well!”

Once that’s done, Izuku’s finally able to do the tapes of the diaper and pull his pants back up. With a big smile, he sits Katsuki back up and congratulates him, “You did it, baby, you’re all finished! You were so brave!”

Katsuki blinks in surprise, not expecting it to be over so soon. Not like he wanted it to last longer, but it didn’t last as long as he thought it would and wasn’t nearly as bad as he imagined.

The blond’s mouth quirks into a bashful smile. “‘M brave?” He says behind his pacifier, holding his bear plushie closer.

Katsuki’s suddenly pulled into a comforting hug. “Mhm! Kacchan is so, so brave!” Izuku cheers, peppers his little one’s face in kisses.

Katsuki can’t help but giggle as he’s showered in kisses and praise. He’s happy again, not just because of Izuku, but because he’s comforted by the soft texture on his bottom.

He’s reminded how little it makes him feel, how safe it makes him feel. Katsuki settles himself against Izuku’s chest, happy that he’s dry again. Maybe being padded isn’t the worst thing in the world after all.

#vamp’s fics #i just had to write this #srry for any writing errors #i wrote this in less than two hours #sfw age regression #sfw agere #age regression #little bakugo #cg izuku #agere bkdk #padded agere

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yujiimybeloved · 20 hours ago

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Has Anyone Else Died For You? | Megumi Fushiguro

06: S. L. U. T

Words: 2.7 k

Mainlist

Things are not going any better, maybe you should stay away from him.

"Damn, you look terrible."

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, you couldn't complain, your dark circles were noticeable, you were in my pajamas and you were clearly tired. "You are so kind Megumi."

"I know, it's like a god's Gift."

You let him in and he followed you into your room, plopping down on your bed as if it were his own. He was bipolar and changeable, days ago he had threatened you and now he acted as if nothing had happened.

"What happened?"

"I don't know, I just- aghhh." It was frustrating how hard it was for you to talk about what you felt, you were in a constant conflict about what you were and what you wanted to prove. You were supposed to be the good girl, but good girls don't make out with the best friend of the guy they're dating and then call him because they need someone to talk to. "It's complicated."

"What's so complicated?"

"It doesn't matter, what did you bring?" You walked over and sat across from him. Before August you hadn't tried a single drug and now here you were.

"Well, I don't have PCP anymore, but I brought some weed and cocaine, we can use whatever you want." While you were still slightly embarrassed to resort to this, he spoke it completely naturally.

"Which one is better?"

"It depends on what you want."

"I just want to relax, I've been feeling too overwhelmed the last few days." or rather your whole life.

"Have you ever smoked?"

"never."

"Okay, then we'll use cocaine." He took out a small bag from his pocket and spread the white powder on your bedside table in four lines.

"Is it safe?" There was the sanctimonious one again, you had already done it came this far, you couldn't back down just because you were a coward.

"Nothing is, but we're already here, so give it a try."

"What should I do?" You got out of bed and knelt in front of the bedside table.

"Whatever you want, you can lick it or snort it, it's probably easier if you eat it since you've never put anything in your nose." You nodded and ran your tongue over one of the lines before giving yourself a chance to regret it, as you licked your eyes they went up like this megumi just to look for some sign that you were doing well, he didn't say anything but kept his deep blue eyes fixed on you, the feeling of Numbness was practically immediate, you swallowed saliva and your eyes remained on him while he bent down and inhaled one of the lines he wiped the remains with the back of his hand, he did not seem surprised by the sensation. "Do you want to talk about what's wrong with you or...?"

"I think Yuji is going to ask me to be his girlfriend tomorrow." You knew this was putting you on dangerous ground after everything that had happened but you had practically vomited it, you needed to get it out. His expression immediately warmed at the mention of his best friend, you had made him angry but he was far from having the manic expression he had when he threatened you, it was not good but it was not so bad either.

"And? Shouldn't you be happy? That's supposed to be what you wanted."

"I'm not saying that- well... I don't know, it's confusing."

"Why? Do you like him or not?"

"Yes, but not that way."

"Then you're just playing with him."

"I'm not, but I don't want to hurt him." Even you were aware of how stupid you sounded, but this time you hadn't planned an excuse. You were making a big mess and you knew it.

"Or is it just because you like the attention he's giving you?" He grabbed your chin lifting your face and forcing you to look at him. "Look at you, you'd fall for anyone who gave you a little attention."

You frowned at his accusation, but you knew he was right, you lived for attention. "It's not true."

"It is, if you didn't want to hurt Yuji you would have made things clear to him from the beginning and you wouldn't be playing this way with him."

"I'm not playing with him." Maybe not, but you were getting a personal benefit from dating him. "I want to do things right but I still feel guilty." You loved Yuji, he was a great friend but you knew you weren't in love with him.

"Why?"

"Because you kissed me."

"No, you feel guilty because you liked me kissing you."

"No, that's not true."

"It is." He leaned toward you, his face a few inches from yours. "Tell me to stop and I'll do it." Silence flooded your room, you didn't say anything, your eyes locked on him trying to replicate the same defiant attitude he had, he kissed you once again, but now it was much softer than the first time.

It was just a tiny, almost chaste kiss, one that felt as good as it felt bad. He walked away from you and you were still on your knees on the floor, you rested your cheek on his thigh and he stroked your hair.

"Look at you, you desperate puppy, you're an attention slut."

You blamed the drug for what you were feeling even if you knew you had been conscious enough to have denied that kiss.

"Do you want me to kiss you again?"

Your doe eyes staring down at him, shiny, so stupid and helpless, pretending to be drugged and vulnerable when in fact they both knew you weren't like that.

"Yes."

And who was he to deny it? At least not when you looked so pretty and willing.

Megumi took your hair into her fist and pulled it back, he leaned over you, his other hand went to your face, his fingers felt cold against your warm cheeks. His thumb gently stroked your soft skin.

He hated you, he hated you so much but he hated even more that if Yuji didn't give up his stupid idea of a romance he would have you all to himself.

Megumi had been obsessed with you for years and finally had you like this, on your knees and expentant to him, but it wasn't enough yet there were many things he wanted to do to you, but he knew he would have to wait.

Because he wanted to make you his but he also wanted to hurt you.

He leaned over you and kissed you again, instinctively you parted your lips to make way for his tongue, neither of you was in any hurry, they were savoring the moment, you were weak from attention, you were weak from the false sense of love, You were weak because of him, because you knew he was bad, that he was a treacherous bastard, but you didn't care because that's what you liked the most.

You spent hours sitting on Megumi's lap making out with him and for the first time in months you felt really relaxed. All your worries disappeared as he groped and practically ate you.

You felt great, really great but the next morning you woke up feeling like shit.

At least there was no black out and the raw physics were not so bad, but ultimately the raw morale felt even worse. You swore to yourself that you would never do it again, you knew that promise probably wouldn't last long but at least you would feel better, you didn't want to take the drug issue any further.

You tried not to think about Megumi but your mind came back to the kiss again and again, you hated yourself because that memory had been engraved in your mind and you doubted that it would come out soon.

As you could, you got out of bed, put on your prettiest dress and put on makeup, it took you almost two hours but later there you were in front of the restaurant completely dolled up and ready to act like you really wanted this. When you saw Yuji waiting for you wearing his best suit and playing with his fingers nervously you felt like vomiting and banging your head against the wall, but it was no longer time to regret it so instead of running out and going home you approached him.

He got up from his chair, put his arm around your waist, and left a kiss on your cheek. "You look beautiful." You sat down and then he sat down in front of you. "The most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You would have preferred to be the best but you were quite far from that.

"Don't overdo it."

"I'm not doing it, I'm serious."

"Well, you look great, really handsome." Yuji was an excellent guy, he had everything to be the perfect boyfriend and you knew you didn't deserve it.

You both had dinner, he was talking and you were practically silent barely participating in the conversation, you could tell how nervous he was and that only made you just as nervous, when he finished he paused and cleared his throat.

"I know it may seem like a quick thing, but I'm pretty sure with this, I'd really like to formalize things with you." The more he talked, the more you wanted to die, disappear at that very moment and never be seen again. "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

You had been officially dating Yuji for a week and knew that you should feel happy, but that strange feeling stayed with you.

Because you didn't like Yuji enough, because you saw sukuna in him, because you had kissed Megumi before making it official with him, because you kept inviting Megumi to your house, the list of reasons was long and in all of them the only one to blame was you.

"The sweet and a good guy and handsome and kind, but..." You sighed, you couldn't find a single flaw, not a single but that would make you not look so bad.

"But?"

"It's complicated."

"Have you slept with him?" You couldn't hide your grimace at such a question, you didn't know where that had come from but you could definitely imagine something like that from Megumi.

"Don't be weird."

A small smile appeared on his lips. "I'm not, he just hasn't told me anything about it and he usually tells me everything."

"Maybe he likes to keep his sex life private."

"Not with me, this is your way of telling me that nothing has happened? Maybe in fact you're a prude"

You rolled your eyes and a faint blush appeared on your cheeks. "Just shut up."

"Why?" Basically, because Yuji was a gentleman and you hadn't tried to make any moves either, you had already gone far enough to take another step.

"I don't know, it would be weird."

"Don't you want to compare him to Sukuna?"

"Oh my God, don't be disgusting, Megumi." You threw a pillow at him and he laughed, it was weird how sometimes he could be really nice and other times mean as fuck.

"Well, I'm going to shut up." He raised his hands in surrender but the smile didn't disappear from his lips.

"You're horrible, I swear," you said as you shook your head and sighed before getting out of bed.

"You too, Angel. do you sleep with his brother, kiss his best friend, aren't you the nicest girlfriend?" Well, you must have assumed that it was a long time before Megumi would act like a bitch again but somehow you felt it less rough than before. "Every man would desire a woman like you."

You didn't answer anything, there wasn't much to say, you had made your decisions, you would have to face the consequences at some point.

"You look like a virgin and act like a whore. I wonder how well trained Sukuna left you."

Part of him loved to see the way you squirmed at his words, even if you tried to keep that hard façade he could see through all the layers you had put on.

But the other party hated the fact that he knew that another man had had what he hadn't, that you had given him what he hadn't. His stomach ached with jealousy and envy.

Then there was total silence you slapped him on the cheek as hard as you had available, you didn't want to be violent but He brought out the worst in you.

"Shut up, you're no better than me."

Although he held his cheek as his skin warmed and turned a deep red thanks to the blow, he did nothing.

"I'm not but I'm not playing at being the sanctimonious woman of the town, Angel." He sneered. "It's funny how much you hide the fact that you're just a big attention slut."

"You're a fucking stupid megumi." You didn't feel like fighting but you didn't feel like hearing him talk like that about you either, although the plan was to ignore him you couldn't stay silent either.

You hated Megumi especially because he wasn't a good person either, you'd dare to say he was worse than you but he always said he was better because he didn't hide it, he's just a big idiot who thinks being evil is fun.

"Maybe." You hated the way he always made fun of you. "and Maybe you should breakup with Yuji."

"No." the subject had you tired, he told you that every fucking day and you couldn't take it anymore, you hated it.

"Why? You don't even like it, you said it over and over again."

"Not that I don't like it, but-" He interrupted you even though you didn't even know what you were planning to say, you didn't have any lies planned and no credible excuses either.

"But you're an attention whore." Again with the same chant, if you had a cent for every day Megumi doesn't call you a whore you'd have 0 cents and that number wouldn't increase.

"Shut up."

"Don't be angry, I just say what I see, Angel, don't be offended" It was also annoying as I would say things like that completely calmly and then feel stupid for letting it get you out of your mind.

"You're being mean on purpose again. Why do you insist on this so much?"

He was silent for a moment that felt eternal, you were tired of not having answers from Megumi, he was completely changeable, one moment you are both fine and the next it seems like he hates you again.

"Because I know you're not good, you're not enough for Yuji. You slept with his brother, you talk and talk about how you don't like him and you kissed me twice." You hated him for being right, you hated him for kissing you, you hated yourself for kissing him.

"Shut up, I didn't even know him when I was with Sukuna, I'm just confused and YOU kissed me when he wasn't my boyfriend yet." You tried to justify yourself even though you knew it was a weak defense.

"You're just trying to justify yourself, but you know you're wrong, you look terrible."

You rolled your eyes, you were frustrated and angry, and the last thing you needed was feedback on your appearance. "Thank you, how kind."

"I'm serious, do you really look bad, tired, sad, what's going on?" He got out of bed and slowly approached you. "Isn't it that the remorse of conscience is consuming you?"

"Stop talking nonsense." Megumi stood in front of you and put his hand on your cheek, but you slapped it away, "don't come close."

"Because you know you're not going to turn me down."

"You have no idea what I'm going to do."

"You're predictable, I've already checked it more than once."

"Stop talking like you're a fucking mastermind, you don't know me, you never will." You hated that he talked like he knew you, you hated that he talked like he had some control over you, you hated when he gave orders like he knew you were going to obey him, you hated his threats, you hated his insults, but you didn't hate him... The hope that he would change had vanished, but you kept calling him whenever you felt lonely, whenever you wanted a friend.

"You're a psychopath, Megumi." You didn't know what was wrong with him, but you didn't have to be very smart to know he wasn't normal.

"And you're a lying whore, it seems like we all have our flaws, don't we?"