#but i still get pathetic alcoholic man vibes

[junkartie]

I cant get over how can crusty and oily he looks its perfect imo. Like yes i miss stoic weird no thoughts james and i think the old VA’s voice would have been so so so good with this design but i can appreciate it for what it is.

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Aegon II Targaryen Headcanons:

❝ But… If you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied…❝

[SFW+NSFW + AFAB!Reader]

General Warnings: sad!Aegon, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of neglect

NSFW Section Warnings: pervert!Aegon, AFAB Terms, Somnophilia, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Sensory Deprivation

A/N: Still upset about his characterization in the show :/ Poor TGC was trying so hard to save this character. Appreciate that he gave us pathetic wet dog vibe for Aegon at the least

SFW Headcanons:

☀️ Aegon has desperate issues regarding love especially the idea of someone loving him. He’s been completely neglected by his father, only valued by his mother as a “rightful” king and struggles with alcoholism as a result.

☀️ Having you see him not as a ruler, not as a prince, not as a chess piece in a political game, but as a person has his mind confused.

☀️ It takes a bit of time for him to entertain the idea of you valuing him as true but once he does, he’s latched onto you like his life depends on it.

☀️ And I mean literally latched on. He is unashamed at how clingy he is to you. Arms always wrapped around you in the hall and keeping his eyes to yours.

☀️ Aegon is only willing to listen to you without complaining too much. Maybe a whine or two but he’s totally whipped so he’s on his way to do as you ask.

☀️ He’d LOVE for you to meet Sunfyre. If you are unaccustomed to dragons, he makes sure to slowly introduce you because he wants you to love his dragon as much as he does.

☀️ Always dreams about running away with you. He’ll be cuddling with you and ask about it. Even if it was impossible, he’d like to dream about going off somewhere in Essos, away from the throne.

☀️ “Love, simply listen to me… Imagine it. We could run off on the first ship out of this blasted kingdom. It could be just us…”

☀️ Alicent would simultaneously love and hate you. She enjoys the company of women and finally, someone has found a way to handle Aegon. But, she’d also be weary of this on account of her father because Aegon being infatuated with you means he’s more willing to listen to you than his council.

☀️ Rather than ditch his duties to attempt escapes, to drink or to whore, he’s sneaking off to see you if it’s been too long. He insists you stay by him during meetings or other duties to keep him from “going mad”.

☀️ Aegon can get very jealous when he sees you with other men because he knows what they’re thinking when they look at you. But you are his. No one else’s.

☀️ And considering he’s the firstborn and a prince, he has absolutely no problem getting petty because there would be no serious consequences. (Bonus tag team with Aemond.)

☀️ Aegon’s main Love Languages to give are: Physical Touch and Quality Time.

☀️ Aegon is obsessed with your body completely. He wants to do everything to have you in his arms.

☀️ He is unashamed with PDA. He’s kissing you almost every couple of minutes. He’s walking down the halls all smiles because he’s holding your hand.

☀️ Aegon’s need for you is constant and his mood quickly sours if he’s pulled away from duty rather than being able to spend his time with you.

☀️ He’d whisk you away onto Sunfyre for a joyride just so he can be away from everyone but you. Consider it a romantic gesture because in his mind it is.

☀️ He thinks it’s like when the knight saves the princess in the stories.

☀️ Lingers in the mornings just so he can have you by him for longer. The sun is hurting his eyes this early in the morning so what better than to bury his head in your chest and softly ask you to stay as he caresses your perfect body.

☀️ Aegon’s favorite Love Languages to receive are: Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation.

☀️ Aegon wants to feel special. To feel taken care of. To feel loved. So anytime you go out of your way to assist him, his eyes are sparkling as he looks at you.

☀️ You tidied the bedchamber? Have prepared his clothing? You’ve had his sword cleaned and polished? You’re practically begging for this man to be completely and utterly obsessed and he’s littering you in kisses in appreciation.

☀️ And, of course, he wants praise. No one has validated him and simply valued him as a person so he yearns for your words.

☀️ Something as simple as “I’m proud of you” has him close to shedding tears because no one tells him that.

☀️ He wants to hear you say “I love you” as much as possible so he’ll say it all the time just to hear you say it back.

NSFW Headcanons:

☀️ At first, he has to be dominant and take control. He’s been cut out of having control in all other aspects of his life that he needs some semblance of power.

☀️ You can trust that he knows what he’s doing. Although some of his fucking has been done while drunk, he’s done it and experimented enough to know what gets him off and what gets you off.

☀️ Only after some time will he trust to submit himself in bed. It’s scary to him. To lose control in another aspect of his life. But he trusts you and he loves you.

☀️ And surprisingly, being so slow, gentle and loving to him, it felt amazing. Having you ride him, hands interlocked and meeting each other’s eyes.

☀️ His favorite part of you are your tits. Seeing them bounce as you ride him, needing to touch and feel them.

☀️ He whimpers and cries when he’s getting close, begging you not to stop. He’s clearly needy just by the way he’s grabbing onto any part of you that you let him.

☀️ When he’s more comfortable with being submissive, he’s whiny in his needs. Tugging at your gown anytime you two are alone, insisting he needs to at least have a look.

☀️ “Please, my love… Please! Just one look! Gods, you have no idea how much I crave you.”

☀️ Aegon’s hand would try to slip under your gown under the table at dinner, insist that only he needs to assist you in bathing which is definitely just an excuse to fuck, and just straight up jack off when you two are alone in your bedchamber, pleading for you to touch him.

☀️ Aegon could definitely cum with the punishment of only being able to hump at your leg. The humiliation of being so desperate gets him off like nothing else.

☀️ He can be bratty sometimes but it’s all purposeful. He wants you to punish him because you both know it leads to being tangled around each other in bed.

☀️ Oh, and Aegon is absolutely unashamed about being loud. The louder the better in his opinion. He wants everyone and anyone to know how fucking good you two fuck and for how long.

☀️ He’d leave whatever chamber you two were in with a smug grin, knowing that no one could match the passion you two share.

☀️ Aegon has average stamina and lasts as long as you edge him for. He could go 2-3 a times a day and still ask for more even when he’s a shaking mess.

☀️ Sit on this man’s face. Period. No questions asked. If he can breathe, he isn’t satisfied. Suffocate him entirely, clamp onto his head with your thighs and watch him eat you out like a starved madman.

☀️ Aegon is a whore for praise and he makes it known when he’s giving you head. He gets so easily pussy drunk it’s insane. His eyes are locked onto you, only parting from your swollen, abused cunt to hear how well he’s doing.

☀️ “My love… Please tell me how well I’m doing… I’m being good, am I not?”

☀️ One of his favorite things would be longer sessions where he’s blindfolded and completely up to your control. Have fun with waxplay and sensory deprivation and watch his cock twitch and leak precum at each touch.

☀️ Sometimes you’d wake up to him already rubbing his cock against your cunt, feeling the wetness already coating him. His forehead pressed to your back as he softly moaned. It’s so easy for him to get turned on when you’re so close to him.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[soleilnomoon]

geto suguru x fem reader | issa toxic affair, y'all.

6.2k words (i know, i know), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; angst city, angst angst city biiitch (yk the vibes) & smut (obvy); feat. cute stuff like a lil' degradation, toxic ass relationship, a lil infidelity, obsessive love & jealousy, lovers 2 exes 2 enemies 2 lovers, public indecency, hand job, oral (f receiving), knife play, a lil bit of blood kink, alcohol, geto is a certified asshole & but reader gets him back, yandere reader bc i love being toxic, gojo makes an appearance! also idk other stuff probably idr ok; also reader is black bc i said she is. this is for @510hz's how to be a heartbreaker collab event (ty so much for letting me participate, i had fun truly). this was inspired by mariana's "power & control"; there's also a lil inspo from "the glory" in there, you'll see. it took me forever but i survived, i hope y'all survive reading this 🤭 (if u see typos/grammatical errors no u didn't)

“you horrify me. but at the same time, / i horrify myself. we are horrible.” – hélène cixous

there’s a name for the disease you have; it’s called foolishness, or, in layman’s terms: love.

your mother warned you long ago, to guard your heart — to ensure that no man could penetrate the thick walls encasing it — yet there you are, a silly, pathetic thing scurrying behind a man who would readily cast you aside if it suited him. you truly did resist him at first; you rebuffed his advances with polite smiles and curt responses, yet he persisted daily and, in hindsight, obsessively.

it’s in his nature, after all.

a man like geto suguru simply does not concede if his pride is on the line — and your initial rejection did, in fact, bruise his ego; although, he’ll never openly admit that.

when he does manage to wiggle his way into your heart, with his charming smiles, small gestures that you somehow misinterpret as kindness, you steadily fall for him. it’s not your fault, not really. geto is just that damn good at figuring people out; and with you, it wasn’t difficult. he found it remarkably easy to sway you, he almost felt bad.

almost.

the first few months are pure bliss; he picks you up promptly for dates, takes you to nice restaurants in the city, pays for spa days and shopping sprees — buys you things you never really allowed yourself to buy on your own, surprises you with lavish floral arrangements that make you cry needlessly over how tragically romantic he’s being. and, suddenly, your heart, which was so strongly protected, becomes vulnerable and falls under his control. it flutters around helplessly in the gilded cage he’s crafted for it — a too-tight fit, where every time you exhale you feel the thick bars pressing tightly and you suffocate — but still, love makes you think that all of this is worth it in the end.

as long as geto calls you his, that’s all that matters.

when he calls your phone, you pick up on the first ring, eager and desperate —to hear the dulcet tones embedded in his voice, the words saccharine and carefully picked; things you’ve always wanted to be told, he whispers them all to you before you fall asleep.

but the thing about geto is, boredom is never too far away from him.

it wraps itself around his arms one morning, slithers along and drenches his skin, completely warping his sense of morality — making him much more severe and uncaring than he normally is. all your cute, quirky traits become bothersome to him; he tires of your laugh, doesn’t care to see that sparkle in your eyes whenever he shows up at your front door, and listening to you drone on and on about things that you like bores him to tears.

when he fucks you, it’s impassively, as if it’s something he needs to tick off his list of weekly duties, rather than something he chooses to do because he genuinely wants to be intimate. you don’t question it at first, but it becomes painfully obvious — and awkward — when he leaves every time, not bothering to kiss you goodnight or even look your way. your mind is cruel one morning, when you reflect on how sex with geto is mostly about him getting off and not you; it never bothered you before, but as the months go on, it starts one of many tiny cracks in his veneer.

the rejection is unbearable — tangible in the way it makes you sluggish and depressed — but you deal with it; you must, after all, he’s the love of your life. you simply can’t imagine being with anyone else now.

geto becomes the very man your mother warned you about, but you ignore it without question.

love is work, you remind yourself for the umpteenth time as you sit in the back of your favorite restaurant, checking the time repeatedly and seeing that he still hasn’t shown. you’re in a modest dress with a slit down the side and you’ve already downed two glasses of wine without him. it’s been forty minutes, the server keeps checking on you, giving you pitying looks despite your smiles and insistence that your boyfriend is definitely on his way.

but the longer you sit there, the less sure of that you are.

eventually you leave; they don’t charge you for a thing and you thank them for their kindness — pity, really — and head home. you try calling geto and get his voicemail again; so you leave yet another teary message, this one more incoherent than the last two, and toss your phone onto your vanity before crying yourself the sleep. you don’t know what to do with this feeling — the hopelessness is eating you alive; or maybe it’s just the wine making you overly sensitive.

geto knows he’s an asshole and relishes in it.

he has his notifications silenced while he’s downtown with a few close friends, partying in an exclusive lounge, drinking until his head grows heavy. he doesn’t remember how he gets back to his place, and barely remembers who he fucked that night, but he does have the common decency to kick them out come morning. he’s hospitable like that. his head throbs as he scrolls through his phone, promptly ignoring the twelve texts from you and the fifteen missed calls. gojo called him heartless last night, which he thought was ridiculous — he has a heart, it just doesn’t always work properly; geto now assumes gojo was referring to his mistreatment of you.

something about that nags at him a little, so he decides to play nice and call you back. the phone continues to ring as he lounges on the plush couch in his living room, causing him to frown; very strange. you normally pick up for him right away, but you’re not answering. he should be concerned, but he chalks it up to you sleeping and decides to try again in an hour.

after his third time calling, annoyance turns into anger which fuels his petty jealousy.

what could you possibly be doing that would require you to ignore him — him — of all people?

“y/n,” he says as calmly as he can while his hand grips his phone tightly, it’s his fourth voicemail, but he doesn’t really care. “i don’t know what game you’re playing at, but i assure you… you won’t win.” he doesn’t elaborate past that, and instead throws his phone at the nearest wall — not bothering to pick it up once it clatters onto the hardwood floor. his anger surprises him; subduing certain emotions is an art for him, so all of this feels very new and uncomfortable.

he tells himself this weakness is only temporary, and that you’ll come to your senses too. except, you don’t. you don’t call him back; you don’t bother texting, and you don’t listen to his voicemails until three days later. when geto finds you, you’re in the middle of rewatching your favorite show for the tenth time, eating leftover pizza in your pajamas.

with his nose wrinkled, geto shuffles through your apartment, taking note of the pile of dishes in your kitchen and the way you’ve completely let go of yourself. he’s appalled that a woman like you has succumbed to the frivolities that accompanies hurt feelings. he even says as much to you when you fail to greet him or acknowledge his presence.

it's when he turns off the tv, that you blink several times, sluggish and confused before realizing that the beautiful man before you is not a figment of your imagination.

“suguru,” you sound his name out like it’s unfamiliar, your tongue thick from keeping quiet these past few days; your mind’s a mess, you’re still reeling from the betrayal of him clearly abandoning you, discarding you like you’re just a toy that he’s long forgotten on the street. he snaps his fingers impatiently in front of your face to get your attention again.

“wh-what is it?”

he frowns again. “what do you mean ‘wh-what is it’?” his mockery of your voice and his accompanying sneer is unbecoming of him, you think, but you don’t say that out loud; instead you put down the pizza you were nibbling and yawn languidly.

“you don’t have to be an ass,” you remark carefully, finally glancing up at him as though you’re seeing him for the first time. love muddled your vision, but now you can see geto suguru for all that he is. a liar, a conman, a shitty human being; but most importantly, he’s still the love of your life. you take that last bit seriously; maybe a little too seriously.

but love has a way of making you foolish in ways that are incomprehensible to others.

geto narrows his eyes at you before his lips twitch and he laughs at your insolence. “okay, that’s fair. i did stand you up, after all.”

you turn back to the tv and shrug, flicking a few crumbs off your shirt. “doesn’t matter. what’s done is done.”

for some reason, your apathy agitates him greatly. your tone is off — detached, devoid of the usual joviality that you have whenever he’s around; he figures that he deserves that, but he knows you won’t be mad at him for long. you never are.

“don’t get ahead of yourself, y/n,” his words drift through the air, venomous and well-practiced — he’s mastered the art of tearing down others without even trying — his annoyance reaches its peak when you ignore him and he exhales loudly, as if the entire situation has bored him to death. “since you obviously don’t give a damn about my presence,” he starts, not bothering to hide his malice or irritation, “i’ll give you what you want.”

which is space. permanently — at least, that’s what he thinks you want anyway. he slams the copy of your apartment key onto the coffee table — something that would’ve made you flinch days ago, but you’re so numb you barely notice.

it’s unbelievable that after a year, this is how you treat him; maybe it’s for the best that he’s breaking up with you. after all, he’d never be able to tolerate you having the upper hand in the breakup. still, it does concern him a bit that you’re not reacting in the way you usually would; did he honestly break your heart that badly that you’ve taken to retreating to the far recesses of your mind? not that it matters to him; you served your purpose and wore out your welcome eight months ago.

he just needed a reason to end it.

once he leaves, you feel like you can breathe again. and after a few minutes, you realize what just happened. you scramble off the couch, heart beating rapidly, palm slick with perspiration as you yank open the door and call out to him.

but he’s long gone; already driven off, ready to take on the world without you.

you wear your rejection like a bruise that won’t ever heal; each word said, each call and text ignored, is like a punch in the same spot over and over.

will you ever be able to move on properly?

it’s not really his problem if you can or can’t get over him, as he’s already moved on within the hour. the thing about geto is, he always assumes he’s the one in control — that he holds all the cards in his hands; but he isn’t. he forgets that you’re entirely too observant for your own good, curious, resourceful, and lethal when provoked long enough. you foolishly grab your car keys and drive to his place in the middle of the night; you ignore traffic lights, drive faster than necessary, swerve in and out of traffic as a fit of madness course through your veins.

love continues to delude you into thinking that there’s a way to fix it all; there has to be, it’s the only thing you can believe in right now.

you think about ringing his doorbell, think about calling and texting, think about just banging on his window and demanding he let you in. but you don’t. instead, you lean against your car, dark, heavy clouds looming over that part of the city as rain comes down hard and practically oppressively.

but you don’t move.

you stand there, shivering; soaked from head to toe, hands balled into fists — his last words playing over and over in your mind, like a song you can’t seem to forget. and every time you hear his voice, your heart shatters a little more; you imagine he’s having fun inside, laughing with gojo and whatever new flavor he’s decided to whet his appetite with. you want to give him the benefit of the doubt; maybe he’s having a bad week? maybe he didn’t mean to break up with you; but the longer you try to convince yourself, the sharper his betrayal becomes.

the truth is bitter, inedible, and harsh; it clamps around your mind as the remnants of your heart morphs into ash.

you bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood, but you don’t feel it; how can you, after all that’s happened?

eventually, you hop into your car and drive to your best friend’s house — she’s the only one you can go to, now that you’ve realized that geto is serious about leaving you. after pouring your heart out and downing a few more glasses of wine, your best friend takes you by the shoulders and shakes you repeatedly.

“y/n,” she says calmly, eyes soft and warm, “honestly, babe, you need to move on from him. is he worth all of this trouble?” you consider her question, roll your bottom lip in between your teeth before answering properly.

“of course, he is,” you say quietly, and then a little louder, “my love for him is so strong that i actually think i hate him.” you’ve never seen your best friend so speechless in your life, but there she is, unable to formulate an appropriate enough response to talk you out of this.

but the thing is, as soon as those words leave your mouth, it finally clicks; all the pieces to the jigsaw puzzle set perfectly in place. how could you have been so foolish?

you love him so much that you hate him, and your hatred is so strong that it can only be perceived as love. it’s irrational, maddening, incredibly toxic; but you revel in it. you know what you need to do, you just need time to do it.

days blend into weeks, and weeks to months; you sell your soul to get back your dignity, that determination that geto stupidly overlooked continuously fuels your quest for revenge. you disappear from the city, change your phone number, leave your apartment, and become a nonthreatening ghost from geto’s past. he forgets about you every time he sleeps with someone else, forgets about you whenever he goes on vacation, forgets about you as he whispers the same sweet things to another over and over and over again.

his ego is something to be marveled, and he feels a little unstoppable these days.

six months later, geto finds himself at a stuffy gala — one that his company’s holding to legally siphon money from the upper 1% under the guise of philanthropy — and spends most of the night dodging gojo’s questions over another failed relationship.

“you really don’t think you’re the problem?” gojo says in between sips of champagne, eyeing his best friend through his dark shades, and smiling as if he already knows the answer to that particular question.

geto lets out a frustrated groan and rolls his eyes. “i’m not doing this with you.” because the last thing he needs, is gojo killing his buzz. he glances at the people in attendance, dark eyes flicking over each guest, seemingly uninterested in any of them until you walk in.

he’s not sure it’s you at first, as your beauty captivates him in a way that doesn’t make sense to him. you’re in a pair of heels that look equal parts elegant and enticing, a shimmering, gold gown with a plunging neckline and incredibly high slit. the color offsets the warm undertones of your rich, brown skin that seems silky and otherworldly under all the lights in the room. geto blinks several times, almost as if he can’t believe that it’s you. and, if it wasn’t for gojo making comments about how he didn’t realize you had curves like that, geto might’ve believed you were a figment of his imagination.

how the tables turn.

your date escorts you to a table towards the back, one that’s close enough that geto can watch you properly. something about you is different. he’s not sure if it’s the confidence you exude as you smile coyly at some of the other guests, plump lips curving upward whenever another man asks to make your acquaintance. you keep your head held high, graceful, as if you belong with that crowd — even though geto knows you don’t. you’d never be able to come to an event like this on your own, but he isn’t upset about that.

what he’s upset at, is your date’s hand lingering on your thigh, thumb caressing your knee as he leans over to whisper something in your ear; that’s your cue to smile demurely and swat at his hand. the laugh is well timed — you even throw your head back, offering geto a full view of your elongated neck and round breasts that cling to the fabric of your gown. you excuse yourself under the guise of going to the restroom, and walk past geto without glancing at him — it’s difficult, you so badly want to turn and watch his reaction, but you keep strong, hips swaying as you take the first hallway on your left.

he’s not sure if it’s curiosity, jealousy, or insanity that drives him to get out of his seat and stalk after you. geto was done with you, he knew that — you knew that — but there he is, chasing you like some lovesick teen that can’t seem to get their unrequited crush out of their head. thankfully, the hallway is empty, so when he rounds the corner, he finds you standing there, checking out your reflection in your compact mirror. you feign surprise when you realize someone’s there, one that morphs into temporary confusion before you smile sweetly at your ex-boyfriend.

“well, isn’t this a fun surprise,” you say airily, a sly smile tumbling onto your lips as you make your way over to him. he’s somehow forgotten how to breathe while simultaneously forgetting that you always looked like this — overwhelmingly beautiful and alluring — he just insisted you dress plain on purpose. you like that he’s speechless; you like that his eyes haven’t left you since you walked into the gala. when you get close enough that he can see just how long and thick your lashes are, he finally snaps out of his stupor — somewhat.

“y/n,” he says belatedly, a bit of awe and amusement coloring his voice, “i’m surprised to see you.” what he really wanted to say, was that he’s trying to remember why he broke up with you in the first place — because nothing comes to mind. not when you reach your hand to delicately tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, not when you intentionally place your hand on his chest, and call out his name softly, almost like a whisper before you take a step back.

“i changed my number,” you say in order to drive the point home and pluck your new phone out of your clutch. “and i moved, but i’d love to catch up with you.” he doesn’t say anything when you type your contact information in his phone and when your lips brush against his cheek, he’s reminded of just how much he adored you initially. he wants to ask why you’ve suddenly come back, but the words stick to the roof of his mouth — thick and impossible to remove, slowly rotting through his common sense. it must be some absurd act of possession that has him pull you close enough to brush his lips against yours; you relish in the nostalgia of the moment, with memories of him kissing you spontaneously during your dates — after all, you’ve been in this position so many times before.

the difference? your claws are sharper, dipped in one of the most potent poisons in the world — hatred.

but you have a role to play now: the naïve ex-girlfriend, who knew nothing of the world before meeting him. geto’s ego knows no bounds when you part your lips for him effortlessly, back arching as he runs his hand down it; his fingers are cool against your exposed skin and you shiver from the contact. he smirks at that, liking that he can still get that sort of reaction out of you. time is essential now, so you kiss him suddenly — your lips soft, supple, and sweet as ever.

geto uses that opportunity to slip is tongue inside of your mouth and familiarizes himself with your taste. you whimper softly and he smirks, thinking that he’s somehow won you over all over again, especially when you drag your nails down the back of his neck, scratching his skin without a care. they’re much sharper than he’s known them to be, and while the sting is tolerable, it’s also annoying. yet he can’t seem to pry himself away; your body feels perfect against his, and you surprise him once again when you rub your hand against his cock. geto’s never known you to be that bold before — and in public too? your kiss transforms into something much demanding, and before he realizes it, you’ve unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.

a heat passes through both of you — and you almost forget yourself as you fall into a familiar dance, kissing him fervently as you wrap your hand around his cock. it stiffens almost immediately, a painful reminder that he’s still impossibly attracted to you, despite what he told himself months ago. you get drunk off of the power you hold over him — the man who mercilessly crushed your heart and left you alone to deal with the aftermath — and have to remind yourself that you’re only supposed to tease him a bit.

his breathing grows uneven, and it’s comical how he’s forgotten that anyone can easily walk in on you two — he just doesn’t care. he’d fuck you in front of everyone just to prove a damn point. your hand strokes faster, twisting as it moves up and down his thick length, his skin hot and smooth, keeping you in a daze. it’s always been like that with you — getting so hopelessly caught up in him that you forget anything else exists.

a voice in the back of your mind tells you to slow down, but you ignore it — the thrill of feeling each jerk of his hips has you moaning into his mouth, breathlessly kissing him like you have all the time in the world.

except you don’t.

the reality of that hits you faster than you’d like, so you bite his lip hard enough to draw blood. you pull away after, almost innocently and lick the blood off of him. the move practically pushes him over the edge, and he has to tell himself that he shouldn’t try fucking you in that hallway. you do your best to catch your breath and blink slowly as you both look at each other. to give yourself a bit of an edge, you swipe your thumb against the tip of his cock and admire the precum on your hand. you bring it up your lips, tongue gliding against your skin to savor the taste of him. it’s a polarizing and captivating experience; something about that makes him want to kiss you all over again, but he refrains from doing so, instead focusing on tucking himself in and fixing his clothes properly.

if you were cruel, you’d take a picture of this moment — of geto with a slightly heaving chest, flushed cheeks, confusion etched on his face as if he doesn’t understand why he let himself get carried away like that. your lipstick is smeared prettily against his lips — red, intoxicating, and ominous.

you smile at that; happy that you’ve successfully integrated yourself into his life again.

“let’s… pick this up again sometime,” your voice has a strange lilt to it — coy and musical, dangerously sultry. his heart skips a beat, and he thinks he’s gone mad; geto doesn’t swoon or obsess the way others do for him. but you’re different now, much more interesting, and mysterious. he knows there’s something wrong with this picture, but he can’t seem to connect the dots just yet.

he doesn’t get another chance to talk to you, as your date keeps you busy most of the night; you don’t bother looking at geto until the end of the event, where you wiggle your fingers at him before leaving.

as soon as you get into your date’s car, you get a text message from a number you’ve memorized by heart and smile as you mentally list all the things you need to do before your revenge can be complete.

little does he know, you haven’t moved at all; you still own your old apartment, but you don’t stay there. you temporarily moved into your childhood friend’s place — a ritzy, luxurious high-rise apartment by the beach — while they travel for work out of the country. it’s all for show, of course; you need geto (and gojo, by extension) to think you’ve somehow elevated yourself financially, that you’re successfully integrated into similar social circles, that you can casually score invites to lavish events that cater to the wealthy elite. after changing out of your gown and into something comfortable, you decide to pay a visit to your old place; it’s mostly empty, save for your old bedroom.

you poured your savings into surveillance equipment, have monitors set up around the room, have hundreds of candid pictures of geto and the people he frequently associates with over the past six months plastered all along the walls. you’ve scribbled out his face in most of the pics, and have drawn lines and arrows, written incoherent notes to yourself — making connections and scenarios so that your contingency plans are unshakeable.

geto texts you again and you smile to yourself, loving the way you’ve already slithered into his mind after one brief conversation with him. he doesn’t realize you’ve been watching him all this time, doesn’t realize that you placed cameras in his home, doesn’t realize that you have unfiltered access to his computer and phone — it pays to have friends who dabble in those things.

you make some tea before sitting on the cushy computer chair as you watch geto stress over you not texting him back; you chuckle and spin around in your chair, elation building up in your chest, rattling that gilded cage around your heart. he’s so stupid, it’s almost too easy; you open the text thread with him, start typing out a bogus response for a few minutes, then delete it and leave him on read.

it takes him half an hour to really lose his mind over you not texting him back, and all you can do is laugh until tears fall out of your eyes.

you want him to fall so hopelessly in love with you, that you become his very reason for living and breathing. then you want to carve out his heart and leave him behind. a perfect plan, really; there are some kinks you still need to iron out, but you know, in time, that everything will go as planned.

uneasiness settles into geto’s stomach over the next few weeks; you barely text him back, and when he calls, you’re always busy. it’s foolish the way he’s pining after you; he knows it’s just because he hasn’t seen you in a long time, but something about you is just so… different. the way you abruptly cut conversations short with him, how you keep rescheduling lunch and dinner with him; how you intentionally let yourself be seen on social media with various men and women. and even when he wants to delete your number and block you, he can’t seem to do it.

because there’s no logical reason why he should be upset. you two aren’t dating anymore, this is just his lust-ridden brain taking hold of his common sense. or, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

when you do manage to see him for dinner one night, you tease him mercilessly and without remorse. at first, geto thinks he has control over the flow of the conversation. you keep blushing whenever he strokes your palm, giggle appropriately when he bumps his knee against yours, and act demure when he gives you permission to order anything off the menu. and you do; the guilt you used to feel is nowhere to be found, instead you thrive in the high that accompanies spending his money frivolously.

in return, you slide your foot up along his leg — slow and tenuous, the first course in your act to capture his heart completely — flirt heavily without restriction and encourage him to keep ordering drinks. geto grows tired of dragging things out and insists you continue the evening back at his place.

“oh,” you say softly and, after a long drawn out moment, your lips curve into a knowing smile.

after you’re both full and pleasantly tipsy, he takes you to his place; in his mind it won’t be long before he has you begging him to fuck you — and then he can finally be rid of this ridiculous obsession. you barely make it through the door because his hands are all over you, tugging roughly on your dress to take it off of you. if you weren’t so determined to see this through, you’d laugh — at his eagerness, at his annoyance with the matter, at your uncanny ability to fool him into thinking that you really want him back.

you lay on his bed, legs spread wide, arousal dripping from your folds as he kisses along the inside of your thighs. normally, geto is an incredibly selfish lover — but tonight, he busies himself with devouring you entirely. almost like he’s trying to make up for lost time. your skin is littered with bite marks and hickeys, but you don’t mind; a few battle scars are necessary in the long run. an unprecedented hunger takes hold of his mind — drives him to eat your pussy with vigor and passion. you roll your hips forward, nipples hard as you moan his name loudly.

he likes how you’re falling apart for him — and only him; you tug on his hair roughly, nails raking against his scalp when he flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit. you forgot that when geto puts his mind to something, he really puts in work; his cock is stiff, but he chooses to ignore it for the sake of watching you writhe on his bed, hand pulling on his bed sheet as soon as he slips his lithe fingers inside of you. he pumps them in and out, fast and hard; you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming, but you lose your composure quickly.

the orgasm leaves you panting and whimpering, softly moaning when geto continues to lap at your pussy, despite how sensitive you feel. you get on all fours without prompting and rub your ass against his cock. the sight is erotic and has him gliding the tip of his cock along your wet pussy, an act that wholly surprises him, even more so when he barely gives you warning before driving his cock inside of your tight hole.

again, he wonders what is different; he’s fucked you more times than he can count, and yet this feels completely new — as if you’re not you, but someone else. and he’s so close to the truth, yet so far away that you try your best not to laugh, even as he powers into you over and over, his cock thick and imposing as his pace picks up.

he knocks his hips against you, strokes lethal but pleasurable. you hiss when he grabs a fistful of your hair, but you let him do it anyway — you want to bide your time before the big finale, of course. geto’s mind melts the longer his cock is inside of you, your plush, warm walls tight around him, squeezing in a way that has him moaning your name out loud.

it surprises him, actually, but he doesn’t stop himself; if anything, he’s more invigorated as he continues to fuck you like you’re the only one he ever thinks about. and, while it probably is true, you also know geto more than he knows you. he pulls out of you suddenly, half in a daze and entirely hooked on your body, and slaps your ass before telling you to ride him instead.

it's almost too easy at this point because this is exactly what you want.

you take your time climbing on top and rub your pussy along his length, grinding and rolling your hips teasingly. his frustration gets the best of him when he grabs your hips to hold you steady.

“y/n,” he warns, voice low and husky. you like him like this — too consumed with lust to realize just how much danger he’s in.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you say almost a little too convincingly, lifting up before sinking down slowly, his cock filling you up in the best sort of way. he’s in heaven, clearly; the way your cunt keeps sucking him back in, your arousal dripping onto his skin — your pussy is the gift that keeps on giving, he tells you offhandedly. you laugh and laugh and laugh, determined to snatch his soul out of his body every time you impale yourself on his cock.

his nails sink into your skin when he holds onto your hips, lifting his upwards to thrust inside of you deeply.

“you know, suguru,” your voice is breathy and hypnotizing, his eyes are glazed over and unfocused; you place your hands on his headboard, under the guise of holding on so he can fuck you properly, but really you’re reaching behind to grab the knife you’ve taped to the back of it. “you’re a shitty person.” there’s confusion etched onto his pretty face, and you chuckle darkly  as you buck your hips against his and brandish the knife in front of him.

he'd noticed that it went missing from his set days ago, but figured he’d misplaced it.

“where did you get that?” he grunts when you clench your pussy around him, still riding him as if this is a common occurrence for both of you.

you continue talking as if he didn’t ask a valid question and gently tap his cheek with the flat part of the blade. “you broke my heart, turned my love into ash,” you ride him harder, your ass bouncing on his hips, and he’s much more aroused than he should be. which is alarming because he isn’t stopping you at all. “and you went about your life like i never mattered.” that part still hurt, and you don’t think as you hold the knife to his throat, the blade sharp enough that it knicks his skin when you lean forward.

he knows he should tell you to stop, but for some reason, it’s as if he’s paralyzed by your confession. he deserves it, he knows that, but you refuse to have any sort of sympathy for him. a bit of blood drips down his neck and you stab the blade onto his pillow, nearly missing his face. he actually fucking flinches and it makes you laugh again.

“you’re so fucking stupid,” you almost pity him. almost.

geto’s life literally flashes before his eyes. he’s never seen you this ruthless; the soft, demure woman he knew before is gone — in her place, is someone cold and demanding, someone who won’t hesitate to maim him if he toes the line.

his skin blanches and he swallows hard, words lodged deep in his throat. he doesn’t know what to say to you. “i—”

you run your tongue along his jaw, and grin triumphantly when he shivers uneasily. “you don’t get it, do you? you’re mine forever.” he wants to ask what you mean by that, but you don’t give him the chance. “i hate you so much, that i want to watch the life drain from your eyes.”

it’s morbid and unreal, but it feels right. “that’s also a form of love, right?” you’re not making any sense, and you don’t care; you’ve deviated from your plan — you intended to drag things out, but once he started fucking you and acting like he was running the show all over again, you snapped. “you’re mine forever, understand?”

he had every opportunity to grab the knife, to shake you off of him, but you keep moving your hips, keep moaning for him, and keep kissing him like you want to breathe in his essence. he’s trapped and probably will never find his way out; he realizes now, that your return wasn’t a coincidence. it was planned. it’s fear that keeps him on that bad, that lets you keep fucking him until you’re satisfied, and when he finally cums, you smile wickedly and pick the knife up again.

“there’s no one who will love you the way i do, baby.”

[tomboyyyaoi]

FUCKDUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKUFCKUFKCUFKCVUKV STANPEDEE STATURDAY THOUGHTSD I FUCKING GUESS OH MY GOD OH MY FUCKINGV GOD FUCKING TRIGUN FUCK

AAAAAAA

aaaahhAAAHHHHH

AAHH FCUKFUCKFUFUCK WHTFUCK??? FUCK

FUCK

SHIT

OH MY GOD

elendira is such a little drama queen bitch i love her, annoying little sister coded, can i get 5 more of these little blonde bitches

WE ALL FUCKING CALLED IT I WAS SUCH A PEDDLER OF THIS THEORY BUT I WASNT EXPECTING IT THIS EPISODE I REALLY LIKED HOW IT WAS DONE IM GOING NUTS A LITTLE BIT

MERYLLLL MERYL MERYL OH MY GOD the fact the derringer still has his blood on it makes it SO FUCKING GOOD her pressing the button to go back up w her red raw eyes and loading the derringer w shaky hands oh my god im going fucking nuts im obsessed

BANGER vashwood moments this ep how r u guys doin

SCARS SCARS SCARS SCARS SCARS

FUCK the fact conrad has just been using human kids as bases for clones of knives.... the extent of his experiments, absolutely fucking vicious i love how much they are pushing that he is truly a piece of shit

knives' little eye on his.. knife. epic swag begging for some more body horror

let us not forget roberto got merked by a little trans girl. i support trans rights and trans wrongs, rip bozo ill miss u

nick continuing to treat other eye of michael experiments like siblings he is their annoying big brother who they all hate♡

"wolfwood. thank you for everything" pff gay u'll see him tomorrow i bet

vashs smarmy lil wave at meryl and roberto while A) roberto was fucking dying (unbeknownst to him tbf) and B) meryl was screaming at him thru the glass not to go bc it was a trap. very vash of him.

VASH AND WOLFWOOD GETTING CAUGHT BY THE POLICE BC VASH FUCKING SNEEZED then wolfwood fucking punching him in the head for it which was the most vashwood moment ever THATS their dynamic... 2 me...

JULY LOOKS FUCKING AWESOME its like this super cool mix of steampunk and cyberpunk i really fuck w it, LOVE the culture in it too i love the idea of other cultures being alive on nomans land not just american

zazies lil "aw man. >:(" wen meryl n roberto just walked off with conrad THEY R SO PATHETIC i love them. best antagonist.

wolfwood getting the scar reveal scene instead of meryl is a little weird but oddly enough? i dont mind! ik im a stark mash head but im unbothetrd (looks like shes gnna go in to save him next ep anyway n im BUZZIN 4 that)

roberto sat FUCKING DYING in the elevator and just bein like "im 2 sober 4 this :/" bitch im gnna miss u

KNIVES SAYING HES GNNA REBUILD VASH THEN CHUCKING HIM IN A BIG PLANT VAT?????? RRRGGHEHFHFHGGRGFG GOING NUTS

we r gathered here 2day 2 mourn the loss of roberto deniro, we all knew u were gnna die, we all called it but man? u were great while we had u, bringing a certified smarmy depressed alcoholic uncle vibe to the group that was so much fun in contrast with the others, rip bozo, gnna miss u big boy

anyway fuck fuck man mother fucker fuck shit man shit fuck fuck motherfcukdf come back next week for more

[diedbrave]

@spider-self continued from this ask.

"Is it that painfully obvious?" Eddie slurred just slightly, uncertain if it was worse that he had given off the vibe that he wasn't handling himself well, or worse that he most likely looked pathetic when doing it. Alcohol had never been his strong suit. He certainly wasn't Richie Tozier, who he knew had struggled with drinking even before the return to Derry. Eddie had his own vices, some would argue much worse, but alcohol seemed like the thing that would do the trick tonight. Quick, smooth (laughable really), and fast.

"I don't mind. As long as you don't mind that I get sloppy incredibly fast when drinking." Last time he had gotten this drunk, well, had been at the Jade of the Orient. Not long ago. The others should have noticed that Eddie wasn't good at holding his liquor with the fact that Eddie Kaspbrak - the man who was literally terrified of getting AIDS through a hangnail - was asking Richie to take off their shirts and kiss in his drunken stupor.

Being the second smallest of the Losers, thank you very much, just meant his body couldn't tolerate it as much. His sheltered, almost health-nut free lifestyle didn't help matters either. He externally winced as another round was presented, not sure how much more of the gasoline-like substance he could partake in, but knowing he would do it until he was drunk enough to not think. "Awfully bold of you to buy a stranger a drink. Especially in this town." He didn't recognize the man, so only wondered how much he knew - if at all - about Derry and its history. For all this man knew, Eddie could be a murderer.

Still, it was kind of someone to offer, especially in Derry. As a kid, it felt like all the adults turned a blind eye to anyone that wasn't their own issue, completely selfish and uncaring. So it made him smile, holding up the glass in a form of salute. "Cheers."

[chandesam]

Sorry for all the Midvalley posting but I just find him so genuinely hilariously pathetic I can't help but find him somewhat endearing so yeah might make headcanons for the gung-ho guns later or something

I know I said this somewhere else before but I think he genuinely gives me Benny from Fallout new Vegas vibes

Just a guy who talks big, but is always looking for a way out and gets himself into something way over his head.

Now granted I still haven't read the trigun manga, this is just an observation I've made based on the panels I have seen of him lol

Midvalley absolutely frequented places where there was gambling, alcohol, smoking, you name it, dude reeks of sin for certain, I mean, thinking about that panel where he was playing with his old band just totally reminds me of like a bar stage where groups can perform. Also in the anime he was picking up random girls all the time, I just get the vibes he's a gambling man too. Might not be your traditional gambling, but more like "alright, I've got a 50/50 shot of making it out of here alive or dead, let's bet on the circumstances"

Anyways thanks for listening to my random Midvalley ramblings

[invisiblegarters]

Never Let Me Go Episode 8

Well would you look at these two just diving into being all cute and domestic instantly. Flirting montage! Man, I often say that I want to do things in montage, but I never mean the fun stuff. I mean things like getting back into exercising regularly and moving.

Hey, is Palm giving Nueng alcohol? I thought he was allergic? Oh screw it let’s just say it's a virgin.

They're still talking around any real feelings, I notice. I don't actually think that they're in deep enough to consider each other life partners or anything like that, but Palm's still doing his careful questioning thing and Nueng is still doing his dancing around giving straight answers. I like it, and I'm gonna pretend that it's down to the time limit they both know they have. This is only while they're on the island and living away from their responsibilities, after all (not that Palm ever really gets to be free of his, considering his responsibility is Nueng).

Man, Palm and Nueng really were going to ditch Palm's mom huh. I find this hilarious for some reason. I still think that she's gonna be the one who leads them to the island. We're establishing that she needs money badly and all the parents in this show suck.

Speaking of sucky parents…Chanon's interrogation is going exactly as we all knew it would. His new BFFs are happily selling him down the river. And ha, Palms mom called the abduction accusations. Is everyone here bad at their jobs?  Because honestly, why are the police just taking their word for it? Did I miss something where they had actual evidence or are they just like "yeah, these guys totally seem like straight shooters. They'd never lie to us!"

Chopper is like sixty percent of the reason that I watch this show. I kind of love him for his little sleuth and ambush plan to expose the dude Phum paid to out Ben and Nueng. Cackling at Ben being all reluctant about it. Stop being such a baby, Benny. I don't know why I find Chopper's exasperated reaction to Ben's "I've never used force to hurt anyone" so funny. Poor Chopper, everyone thinks that he's a thug. I don't, though. He just doesn't give me that vibe.

And oooh, was that a flare of awareness I saw from Ben when Chopper got all close and put his hand over his mouth? Because it sure looked like it. Still unsure if he's entirely aware of Chopper's raging crush (personally I think he is either completely aware of it and just pretending it's not true or he only senses it without really knowing for sure - or letting himself know. The one thing I'm sure of is that he's not totally oblivious, even if he isn't consciously aware of it), but this was the first time I've seen anything even sort of similar from Ben.

Pfft at Chopper just nudging this guy's face to look at his video.

Ben: I don't want to use force to hurt anyone.

Also Ben: *tries to clock this guy*

Thank goodness for Chopper honestly.

This dude is pathetic but he and Phum both deserve whatever comes down on their heads, honestly. It's almost like actions have consequences!

Okay, possibly controversial opinion: I'm not actually unsympathetic to Palm's mom. I feel for Palm because no child should have to doubt their parents' love for them, but also there is no guarantee that her staying would have been better. Chances are good that she would have taken her resentment and frustration with being unable to live her life as she wanted out on him. Either way Palm would have been stuck with a mom who loved herself more than him and a dad that was far more devoted to someone else's family than his own.

Yeah, clearly Palm's gonna have to choose between love and duty at some point, and that boy's wired to put duty before all else. I just don't see a happy ending here, folks. Bittersweet, probably, but happy? Forecast is not great.

Aw, it's actually pretty sweet how concerned both of them are about Palm's mom's situation.

Maggie! I missed her face. I don't even care that she's a total flirt and pisses Nueng off. Actually that's a lie. I love that she's a total flirt and pisses Nueng off. She's not being awful about it, and I like that she's one of the people in Palm's life who seems to actually care that he's happy. And has no problem telling him home truths. Honestly Palm needs to hear that what he wants matters more often, so I'm primed to like anyone who does.

Girl is nowhere near as unobservant as it seemed, she just clocked the feelings and got on with things. My god I love her.

Oh shoot. Well the whole gambling depts thing just got a bit more complicated.

Hahaha Nueng was totally stalking them around the island, wasn't he? Yes he was. Honestly could he sound like any more of a brat when he tells Maggie that it's good for Palm to protect someone else for a change? My dude.

Oh wow so it was definitely awareness in the bathroom. Okay, then. Chopper really doesn't have much of a poker face, does he? It's clear he doesn't want his dad's men to find Nueng, and no, I don't actually think that it has anything to do with Ben. I think he's worried for his cousin if Kit finds him. He probably should be.

"Do you still like me?"

Ballsy, Ben.  Also, man, you better be curious because it's finally occurred to you that you might have feelings too, because otherwise this is just mean. Chopper isn't here for your personal gratification, Mr. Class President.

Also the answer is clearly yes. Just look at his face.

Wow Ben moves fast. What are you doing, Ben? Are you gonna decide to ditch Chopper the second Nueng comes back? I was warming up to you but now you're messing with my favorite.

Oh now this is interesting. I assumed Palm's mom would screw them over but Nueng having to withdraw money to help her is good too. Guess the island time is all but over now. And this gambler dude is going to be a problem. People like that don't actually go away when you finally pay them off, they just aim for a new way to squeeze you. And now he knows Nueng is rich.

Damn, Nueng has more balls than sense.

I say again, Palm, let Nueng do things himself! Although I do get a kick out of Palm doing the "if I'm your island boyfriend you should let me do things for you" thing. It's blatantly manipulative and both of them know it and are okay with it, lol. You'll never ever convince me that Nueng doesn't want to be Palm's spoiled brat.

Okay, Nueng's jealousy is cute here. And HA, more prodding disguised as teasing.

Oh wow okay so we're doing the love confession thing already. Well that's disappointing. I mean, it's sweet. But I wanted more angst. Boo, I say (oh, not really. It's sweet and I KNOW we'll get some angst soon enough, I'm just feeling a little grumpy because my favorite bit of the bodyguard trope has been done away with in ep 8. They could have stretched that at least until ep 10).

That said, get it, guys! Enjoy this while you have it, which will be all of ten minutes thanks to that earlier fund withdrawal.

[turbulenttwenties]

22

Because I was dating Matthias at the time and he was a serial alcoholic, unfortunately I partook in whatever he did. It did not help that our friend circle, well his friend circle but mine by proxy, we're also all young drunks. Every single outing consisted of at least 10 drinks per person and crazy nights and even craziest stories. I was often nauseous and unwell and pushed past my limits. I have never thrown up as much as I have when I was around those people and in that drunken World.

Like many children, I've had a drunk uncle. When I was a child. I always had a bad vibe from him and for some reason he intimidated me in a way that I still can't really explain. I suppose women's intuition kicked in a little early for me as conceded as that sounds to say. But I later found out that even when he was surrounded by family, he would slip alcohol into his morning coffee when he thought no one was looking for a brief second. Needless to say, his bad habits killed him in the end. My dad never liked alcohol or alcoholic people.

Matthias would down entire bottles of rum by himself and that was not even on a night out. But in the comfort of his room just on a normal weekday night. On the nights we did go out he would get absolutely plastered and I'd often end up in verbal altercations with him. One night he was so bad that he was escorted out of the venue, with me running behind him. Embarrassed but overly dedicated to this waste of space and waste of my time, and him punching and kicking things on his way out, God I was so pathetic back then. Obviously not as pathetic as he was, and apparently continues to be, but I cannot imagine how I could pine for someone like him. He was regularly inebriated and at some point on a weekly basis. I bore the brunt of it through his bad moods that came from his drunken states. Thankfully things never got physical or violent, except of course that one time when, under the influence of a whole bottle of Kraken rum that I forget the name of and refuse to look up, he sexually assaulted me by forcing me to give him oral sex. I told him no about five times but he was unfortunately physically stronger than me and scarier. I was always scared of angry men, I grew up with the angriest man I would know and my brain had been wired to seek out even angrier men for many years after that. Daddy issues, am I right?

That's all I feel like sharing about that at the moment. I don't remember exactly how old I was because my memory had become really badly damaged after that assault. Took me 2 years to remember that it even happened to me. I'm not afraid to name him anymore though, fuck you to the moon Matthias, you rapist piece of shit.

[jamminvroomvroom]

these quiet moments

CL x fem!reader 

read part 2: a fruit basket and a ferrari ✨here✨

right so here is my first sharl fic. you do not realise how hard it was to type ‘charles’ lmao. so this was inspired by the events of barcelona and then, of course, the absolute shambles of the monaco gp. hey, at least it gave me a plot lmao. anyways, enjoy!! feedback is always welcome, hmu <33

songs that guided the vibes: ivy by frank ocean, woman by harry styles, north by clairo

in which charles feels things for his best friends, ahem, fuck buddy.

warnings: 18+!! angst, smut in a ✨shower✨, fluff kinda i guess, swearing, pierre gasly (affectionate... ish), alcohol, the curse of the monaco gp lol. 

6.8k words

the car came to a halt in the pit box, red men frantically changing his tyres and then waving him on his way. the stop was quick, almost perfect, not that it needed to be. he had a lead that didn’t put him in danger of being overtaken coming out of the box. he wouldn’t need to scramble to regain a position under the spanish sunshine that was beating down relentlessly on the crowd, he just needed to get through the next forty odd laps and he’d be on top of the podium. he’d spray the champagne and get a pat on the back and go back to the hotel. it seemed so easily in his grasp. 

he needed the win. he needed the distraction. he needed to not think of you. 

the longer the good times lasted, the less he had to think of you. he’d be able to bear the torment of watching pierre’s hand linger on your waist if he won the race, because it would mean that millions loved him, even if you didn’t. but if he lost, or came second or third, which was the same thing in his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to cope. he wouldn’t be able to cope when he watched you leave with pierre. he wouldn’t be able to handle it when he saw you at breakfast in the hotel the next morning, knowing exactly how you’d spent your evening. he wouldn’t be able to endure watching pierre saunter into the dining hall ten minutes later, acting nonchalant, as if no one had eyes or the faintest clue that pierre had spent the night on top of you. or beneath you. pierre wasn’t fussy like that. 

charles knew that you and pierre were just friends. best friends even. such good friends that sleeping together was like going for a cup of coffee, or going to the movies. your arms were open for pierre on a good day, a bad day, and every kind of day in between and charles had never envied another man more. he loved pierre like a brother but, god, he hated him too. it didn’t matter that pierre didn’t want you like charles did, he still had most of your time and attention. all charles got was conversations over breakfast after your rendezvous with his best friend, or a weirdly deep conversation when you got drunk with him and the other drivers after a long race weekend. it wasn’t enough. 

charles continued to fly across the track, light on the curbs but pace simply unmatched. no one on the track was as fast as him. no one could fucking touch him. this was his race to win. and so naturally, his engine decided to call it a day. of course. he heard himself shouting, white noise filling the air as he trundled back to the pit lane, where they’d already cleared a neat and tidy space in the garage for him. the rage just about dispersed and he finally got out of the car. the helmet came off, a quick wave to the crowd, a ruffle of the hair from mattia. he wanted to be alone. he had a good thirty or so laps to wallow. 

eventually, he made his way through the garage and back to the ferrari hospitality building. just as he stepped through the door, he heard a voice that sent a pathetic shiver down his spine. he turned around slowly, not quite ready to believe it was you. shouldn’t you be tucked away quietly in the back of the alpha tauri garage so that no one got the wrong idea? so that pierre’s fans didn’t find you on social media and ruin your life, for absolutely no reason at all? it turned out that his tired mind was not playing tricks on him, because there you stood. a weak smile on your face, hair blowing in the same breeze that had put his teammate in the gravel.

“oh. hi.” oh hi? he wanted to punch himself in the face. 

“i’m sorry about your engine.” you offered, tilting your head apologetically. he still didn’t understand why you were stood here talking to him, instead of watching the race. 

“yeah, so am i.” charles muttered, barely audible. he just wanted to go inside. as much as he would have loved to stay and talk to you forever and ever, he gathered that you’d need to conserve your energy to console pierre later on. he accidentally rolled his eyes at his own thoughts, and then watched on like an idiot when you furrowed your eyebrows and took a step back. 

“um, i’m gonna go, i just wanted to make sure you were okay.” just as you were about to turn on your heel, he couldn’t help himself and called out to you. 

“no! i’m sorry. i just, i’m not having a great day.” he laughed humourlessly, eyes lighting up when you joined in. 

“i should go anyway.” you waved your hand casually, brushing him off. 

“you don’t need to.” he spoke a bit to quickly, over eager to get you to stay. he felt his cheeks heat up. he didn’t miss the way your lips quirked up. 

“i can’t exactly come and hang out in the ferrari suite.” you challenged.

“you can with me.” he almost recoiled at the way that he sounded, far too arrogant for a guy who’s engine just passed away, but he chose not to care, standing up straighter and letting himself smirk. 

you shrugged, following him into the ferrari hospitality through the door that he held open for you. he could feel your eyes on his back, basking delightfully in the fact that you were here with him. you were in his territory now, somewhere pierre couldn’t get to you. as the door to his drivers room slowly shut, that feeling of momentary pride came to an unfortunate end. what the hell did he do now? 

“so-“ 

“so-“ you both spoke at the same time. it was awkward. there was no denying that. you were sat next to him on the small sofa, half a space between you. 

“go ahead.” he encouraged, blushing again and averting his eyes. 

stop fucking blushing!

“are you okay?” the sincerity behind your words made charles look at you again. 

“honestly? no.” 

“i appreciate your honesty.” you scoffed. 

something about the way you said that, as if you had a bitter taste in your mouth, made charles wonder. what made you appreciate his honesty? more importantly, who had made you appreciate his honesty? nonetheless, he couldn’t stop his heart from hammering away in his chest; you appreciated him, in that moment at least.

“are you okay?” charles asked. you’d piqued his curiosity now. 

“fine, thank you.” your smile, although breathtaking, was completely and utterly fake. 

you let out a sigh when you saw how he was looking at you. a look that said i call bullshit. 

the most notable thing about charles’ relationship with you was the strangely intricate conversations that you’d shared throughout the years. days full of chaos would be broken up by these quiet moments that you shared that held more substance than most interactions that charles had to endure. you weren’t best friends, not even close, but these moments of stillness and clarity meant a great deal to both of you. they usually happened when pierre was ordering another round of drinks, or when pierre went to get the car, or when pierre’s media obligations overran. basically, charles could only have you to himself when pierre was occupied. he had never been so happy to dnf before, as awful as it was. while pierre was driving in meaningless circles, charles was watching you collect your thoughts, watching the way your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes changed. charles certainly knew what he’d rather be doing. 

“it doesn’t really matter.” you said quietly. 

“yes it does. matters to me.” he couldn’t not say it. it did matter to him. anything bothering you mattered to him a great deal, an embarrassingly great deal. you just stared at him for a second, charles suddenly realising that you were both turned in to face one another, knees touching. 

“why?” 

well, that was a good question. 

“well we’re friends aren’t we?” he didn’t like the way the word ‘friends’ tasted on his tongue, nor did he like the way your eyes changed as he said it. almost as if you knew.

“sure we are,” you smirked, “but i won’t burden you.” 

“please do.” why could he not think before he spoke today? you raised your eyebrows at him. he shrugged.

“shouldn’t i be comforting you?” you looked mischievous. he almost felt like you were mocking him, but for some reason he was revelling in it. 

“your presence is more than enough.” he didn’t know where he found the nerve to flirt with you but nevertheless, he was. “so, please, what’s wrong?” he ignored the light dusting of pink across your cheekbones, refusing to get his hopes up, and tried his best to move the conversation along. 

“i just,” you were fiddling with your skirt, staring down at your hands. charles was practically on the edge of his seat, desperate to know what was going through your mind. “i don’t think i can keep doing… this thing. i know you know about me and pierre.” you averted eye contact. charles had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. anyone with eyes knew about you and pierre. “we don’t exactly want the same things.” 

if charles knew pierre, and he knew him very well, he knew that pierre wanted to live his life as he pleased, no strings attached, no obligations. after all, that’s why he maintained the relationship that he did with you. and if you and pierre didn’t want the same things, that meant that you wanted more than a place in pierre’s bed. or that’s what charles had deduced, at least. the room was silent as charles’ heart shattered in his chest. 

“oh. i see.” 

“do you?”

“i’m sorry?” he was taken aback. 

“do you see what i mean? i’m not sure that you do.” you clarified, voice a lot calmer than charles’. you gave nothing away. 

“well, i think i do. pierre doesn’t want a relationship. you do.” charles stated simply, growing frustrated. maybe he didn’t want to know what was bothering you, after all.

“i suppose-“ you started, only to be cut short by the monegasque driver.  

“then why are you questioning me?” he didn’t mean to sound so irritated. 

“who said i wanted a relationship with pierre?” you bit back quickly.

great. so there was someone else?

“actually, i need to do some media. i’m sorry.” he stood up. he instantly missed the contact of your knee against his. you looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“no, i’m sorry. of course, i’ll go.” he hated that you apologised to him when it was him that had absolutely annihilated the moment. it was rude of him, negligent. he’d offered to be your shoulder to cry on and as soon as he heard something he didn’t like, he was kicking you out. you left the room in a hurry, looking as flustered as charles felt. the door closed, a visual reminder that he had let you slip away. 

the day could not get much worse. 

-

apparently, the day could, in fact, get worse. 

charles cursed under his breath as he helped you manoeuvre pierre through the dimly lit hallway of the hotel. charles was bearing most of pierre’s weight while you guided them both back to pierre’s hotel room, a look on your face that charles could not quite distinguish. you looked exasperated. the frenchman was blackout drunk after a more than unsatisfactory race, slurring something about how much helmut marko sucked and how life was unfair. charles couldn’t help but agree with both of those statements. 

eventually, you made it to the room, pierre’s body being flung perhaps a bit carelessly onto his bed. you and charles both stood over him like disappointed parents. your arms were crossed, grimacing down at him, while charles stood with his hands on his hips, glaring down at his friend. charles hadn’t wanted to spend the evening with you and pierre but of course, the frenchman roped him in and then got himself so drunk that charles had to practically carry him back to his room. and to make matters worse, you were there too, along for every second of the tragic ride. you’d probably expected a different outcome for the evening, probably assuming that yes, pierre would end up in bed but you’d be there too. alas, that was not the case. 

“i don’t know if you’re staying here but i’m going to go. you can call me if you need anything.” charles spoke, not giving pierre the courtesy of whispering. pierre would be asleep for a while.

“no.” you said softly, but with a conviction that told charles that you meant business. 

“no?”

“no, i’m not staying here.” you sighed. 

“okay. in that case, do you want me to walk you to your room?” charles offered, wanting nothing more than to spend the remainder of his evening with you, whilst also wanting to make sure you got back safely. you smiled. he smiled back. it was hard not to.

“would you?” 

“my pleasure.” he said, as if it was nothing. it was everything. 

you poured a glass of water for pierre, while charles retrieved the small bin from the bathroom and placed it on the floor by pierre’s bed. what are friends for? you both spared the other driver once last look, before you left the hotel room. you both made the trip to the elevator, which was much shorter without pierre’s deadweight, letting charles push the button. 

you waited there together, hands at your sides. when he felt your knuckles brush against his, he almost jumped in the air. if that tiny, minuscule contact was enough to take him down, he could only imagine what kind of reaction your body against his would evoke. he tried to subtly look down, take in the sight of your hand against his. he wanted to hold your hand more than he wanted to win the championship. you seemed to be watching him from the corner of your eye, enjoying the flustered state of the ferrari driver.

the elevator doors opened and you stepped forward first, breaking charles out of his trance. he stepped in next to you, the both of you standing in a silence that lingered somewhere between comfortable and awkward. he wanted to know what you were thinking, dying to know what was going through your head. when he’d first laid eyes on you earlier on in the evening, he hadn’t been able to resist raking them up and down your body, no better than every other man in the bar who was undoubtedly doing the same. he felt guilty, but you were a sight to behold.

whilst pierre had been set on having a wild night, charles was content in the huge booth pierre had rented out for the evening, not up for interacting with anyone who’d seen his shambolic race. you seemed to be on the same wavelength, staying put and nursing a drink. as the night progressed, charles found himself gravitating towards you, and you to him, until you were both sat next to each other. one of your legs was crossed over the other and your knees brushed under the table. charles didn’t even know what the topic of your conversation was, all he could focus on was the shape of your lips when you spoke. he’d been on his way to leaning in when pierre had magically reappeared, whining because someone said he looked like nico rosberg in his white trousers. the annoyance that flashed across your face for a split second at pierre’s not so epic return gave charles hope. 

“charles?” your voice cut through the memories of the evening. 

“hmm?” he replied, turning his head to look down at you beside him. 

his eyes locked on yours for a split second before you were cupping his face and pulling him in towards you. when your lips met his, charles didn’t know what to do for a second. he was so utterly shocked that he just stood there. but it really was only a second, because he quickly realised that he had been waiting several years to kiss you and he could not let a second go to waste in such an important moment. he kissed you back urgently, hands gripping at your waist to pull you in closer. as you kissed him, one hand grazed his jaw and the other one trailed down his neck until it was laced through the hair at the nape of his neck. charles groaned into the kiss, unable to help himself. you unleashed something animalistic within him, something desperate, lustful, pathetic. he didn’t understand how he’d be able to let you go tonight. as his kisses trailed down your cheek and onto the flushed skin of your neck, the elevator slowed. you whimpered. 

“charles,” you breathed, “this is my stop.” he groaned in annoyance, pressing an open mouthed kiss right in the crook of your neck. as the doors slowly opened, he watched you saunter out of the lift, turning around as you walked away to bid him adieu.  

“i’ll see you in monaco.” you winked at him. he thought he was going to pass out. 

he fell back against the back wall of the elevator as the doors shut tantalisingly slowly, finally removing you from his sight. he smiled lazily, just about making out the image of himself in the metallic doors. his smile was contorted in the silvery surface. his hair was an untameable mess. his white dress shirt stood out to him in the reflection, able to see the way it had creased when you’d been pressed against him. 

as charles approached his floor, he tried not to think about pierre, and all of his shirts that you’d creased in elevators just like this one. all he could think about was what you’d said. 

i’ll see you in monaco.

-

i’ll see you in monaco.

i’ll see you in monaco.

would you? would you really? it was saturday and charles hadn’t laid eyes on you once. you lurked at the corner of his every single thought and he hadn’t even seen you yet. he held out hope all week that pierre would bring you along to dinner but you never showed. it was distracting, he needed to talk to you, needed to just be near you at the very least. there was something strange lingering in the air that charles couldn’t quite put his finger on. all he knew was that pierre’s eyes seemed to narrow when he thought charles wasn’t looking. 

he paced beside his car, getting himself into the correct headspace for qualifying. the noise of the crowd couldn’t quite be drowned out, the way they called his name, restlessly chanting for him. he craved the pole position, craved the honour of standing on the top of the podium tomorrow, almost as much as he wanted you beside him. his balaclava went on, followed by his helmet, a new design to commemorate a weekend at home. he settled into the cockpit, completely clearing his mind. almost. 

the laps around his hometown always meant more. it was a nostalgic route around the principality, one that took him back to his childhood, sat on the bus as a child who wanted to drive the red car. he owed that kid a good race, perhaps even a win. at this point, a race finish would do. charles pulled out of the garage and into the pit lane.

he topped q1. he topped q2. he topped q3. 

pole position. 

he pulled into parc ferme, ignoring the feeling of uneasiness. things were yet to go wrong for him, how long would this last? he gave his interview, deciding to lean into the elation of the situation. pole fucking position on home soil, and he didn’t even crash out. it felt too good to deny himself the opportunity to celebrate. the fastest man in the world. the interviews went by like a blur for once, the media circus usually dragging on. not today. he was distracted the entire time by the crowd. they loved him. he loved them too. it felt good to be loved. 

with a spring in his step, he bounded though the paddock, stopping every few steps to take pictures and shake hands. it always felt good to come home. charles watched a young boy run back to his mother, eyes bright as he took in the signature that now adorned his ferrari cap.  moments like those made all of the noise worth it. he made it into the ferrari building, exchanging a few more congratulatory hugs and handshakes. he finally made it through the suite, seeking a moment of quiet to make it all seem real, a moment to process that he’d done it. he shut the door to his drivers room, turning around, to be given the fright of his life. 

“fuck, you scared me.” he slapped his hand over his heart, feeling the way it raced within his chest. it wasn’t just fear. 

“i didn’t mean to.” the sound of your voice was like a break in the clouds, sunshine, the most beautiful song he’d ever heard before. he was already on a high, but the sight of you, hearing your voice, somehow elevated him even further. 

“how did you even get in here?” he was puzzled, unsure of how you’d actually made it onto ferrari turf without being swiftly escorted back to the alpha tauri suite. 

“that doesn’t matter right now.” you said urgently, crossing the short distance between you. 

he felt himself smiling as he kissed you. everything felt better. the stagnant week that had passed by without you seemed to melt into nothing as you pressed yourself against him as close as you could get, hands desperately fisting the material of his race suit, as if you’d missed him as much as he’d missed you. 

“congratulations.” you mumbled against his lips. he’d heard it a thousand times today but hearing you say it somehow meant more. you’d sought him out, potentially breaking into the ferrari suite to be here with him, to kiss him and congratulate him. that definitely meant more to him that bumping into a random stranger who just wanted a picture. 

he used the opportunity of you breaking the kiss to pepper kisses down your neck, enjoying the way your head instantly fell back to give him access. he wished he could stay in here, locked away with you, but he had a briefing to get to and a strategy to discuss. it pained him to pull away from you, instantly missing the way you were panting under his touch.

“mon amour, i need to go.” he whispered. you looked at him with wide eyes. that was the first time he’d called you that and it was obvious that you’d both realised the same thing. 

“don’t.” your smile was teasing but you were very serious. 

“where will i find you later?” he watched your face drop, suddenly breaking eye contact. he quickly realised why. guilt. 

“i, um, well i’m staying with pierre.” you said weakly, telling charles everything you needed to. the question was, which of the drivers made you feel guilty? 

“i see.” charles’ reply lacked any emotion. he didn’t want you to know how much it hurt. instead, he found a solution to the problem, “i’ll pick you up, take you back to my place.” he said, eyes quickly widening when he realised just how suggestive it sounded. yes, he wanted you, but god, he didn’t need to make it quite so blatant. “sorry, er, i didn’t mean-“ 

you cut him off with your laughter, caressing his jaw with one hand. you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips which you both instantly wanted to take further, but you were both aware of how time constricted you. 

“it’s okay. i’ll see you later.” you let yourself out of the room, trying to remain incognito as charles watched you exit the hospitality from the doorway of his room. he hoped that he wouldn’t have to keep watching you walk away from him, no matter how much he enjoyed the view. 

-

sunday morning in monaco was always chaos. there were hoards of people who thought they were important blocking every which way, as if charles wasn’t already frustrated enough. he hadn’t seen you last night. no, all he’d seen was a text from you, telling him that oh no, poor pierre had his strategy fucked and he needs me now! charles was quietly seething, slumped in the seat of his ferrari outside pierre’s apartment complex when he’d received your message. maybe his race weekends in monaco were a little bit cursed. 

he’d been trying to steer clear of pierre all morning, quite frankly sick of the sight of him. the only thing that he had today that pierre didn’t was pole position and it didn’t seem like enough. charles boarded the lorry for the drivers parade, trying to keep as much space between him and the alpha tauri driver as possible, which probably looked strange, considering they usually spent such ventures glued to each other. his plan to avoid pierre for the rest of his life quickly came crashing down when the frenchman made a beeline for charles, leaving yuki behind. 

“are you avoiding me?” great. pierre’s blatant directness was infuriating at the best of times, but today it managed to get on charles’ last nerve. 

“why would i do that? just trying to keep the focus.” it didn’t even sound true. pierre started blankly at the monegasque. 

“bullshit. were you ever going to tell me?” pierre narrowed his eyes, just as he had been doing all week, except this time, he made no attempt to try and hide it. charles gulped, feeling the blood drain from his face. 

“tell you what?” play dumb, it works with the media, it might also work with pierre. pierre scoffed. 

“i’m not mad.” pierre offered. well, he sure looked it. “she’s a great person, i don’t blame you for being interested in her. i just don’t think she’s looking for a relationship.” wait, what? 

“i’m sorry?” charles was truly confused. 

“listen, i see the way you look at her but i wouldn’t go there. she’s been distant lately, i think she’s interested in someone. won’t tell me who, though.” pierre tutted. what the fuck?

“pierre, i need to tell-“ charles started, only to be interrupted. 

“it’s fine, i get it. she’s amazing. i’m just giving you a heads up.” and then he was gone, pulled away into a conversation with daniel. 

charles stood there by himself for a second, dumbfounded. pierre had no idea what was going on, yet somehow he’d convinced himself that he knew the entire picture. maybe he should have felt bad. maybe he should have felt awful for the way he felt about you behind pierre’s back, but instead, a feeling of pride blossomed in charles’ chest. 

it was him. he was the reason for your distance, he was the person you were interested, he is was the person you wanted. charles had gotten it wrong when you’d said you needed to be there for pierre last night. at the end of the day, you were still pierre’s best friend, of course you’d be there when pierre needed you. finally, your relationship with the frenchman had changed. charles felt triumphant, and the race hadn’t even started yet. 

he ended the race weekend wishing that it never had. 

he was absolutely mortified, furious. it was a loss, as far as he was concerned, an utterly gut wrenching one. p4 meant absolutely fucking nothing to him. he left the track as soon as he could, trying not to have too much of a pity party. he was still seeing red, literally too, unable to escape the swathes of fans that had come to watch him win. it made him feel sick. he finally seemed able to breath when he’d slammed the door to his apartment, chucking his keys somewhere and his bag down onto the floor.

he wanted another shower, the hurried one he’d had at the track post race leaving him unrelaxed and somehow even more irritated than he already was. he stepped into the large en-suite, turning the water on as hot as it would go, letting the steam fill the bathroom. he stepped back out to get his phone, when he heard a knock on the door. he wondered who would dare bother him now. he grunted, quickly making his way over to the door, ready to tell whoever it was on the other side to fuck off, politely of course. but when he saw you standing there, playing nervously with your rings, a hopeful look in your eyes, he couldn’t find the strength to ask you to leave, no matter how much he wanted to be left alone by everyone. you included. 

“i can’t talk right now.” charles was straight to the point, talking a leaf out of pierre’s book. 

“i didn’t come here to talk.” you affirmed, standing your ground, your darkened eyes telling him exactly what you were here for. 

“then why are you here?” he wanted you to say it. he needed to hear it. 

“to see if i can make you feel better.” the way the words rolled off of your tongue dissolved several years worth of self control. 

he reached out for you and you met him halfway, lips meeting for the third time. charles managed to pull you inside his apartment, blindly shutting his front door behind him as he guided you over to the nearest wall he could find, holding you against it. your hands were in his hair, tugging deliciously at the short strands and he was groaning unabashedly into your mouth. his hands snaked down your body grasping your waist firmly as he deepened the kiss, fingertips gripping your flesh. he wanted you out of the short dress as quick as humanly possible, after all, the shower was waiting. 

charles let his hands wander further, fiddling with the hem of your dress, hands skimming your thighs, before he was picking you up. you almost squealed, throwing your arms around his neck and wrapping your legs around him tightly. he could happily get used to the feeling of you wrapped around him. charles moved you both away from the wall and into his bedroom, not stopping there. he carried you into the en-suite, steam pouring out of the walk in shower, the water hitting the marbled floor in a way that beckoned for you both to get under the stream. 

“care to join me?” his voice was low, gravelly, a clear signpost that he’d had a long, hard day. you smirked. 

“it would be my pleasure.” you whispered in his ear, hands moving to get your dress off as soon as he let your feet touch the ground. charles tried not to completely lose himself in you already, but it was hard not to. he’d wanted this for far too long not to appreciate every second of you on display for him. all for him. he somehow managed to undress himself, spurred along by your increasing nakedness, desperately needing to catch up. he felt less bad about his obvious gawking at you when he noticed you trailing your eyes hungrily over his skin, in a way that told him that you’d needed this for a while, too. 

you turned away to walk towards the shower, slowly making your way underneath the hot water. he watched you go, knowing that he could enjoy the moment, because for once, he’d be able to follow after you. he watched the way the water moved over your skin, leaving you glistening, waiting for him. your hair was slicked back, pushed out of your face, sending tiny droplets of water down your collarbone and over the curve of your breasts. charles watched you for a moment too long, simply trying to convince himself that you were real, that this was actually happening. he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, but he wasn’t about to complain. 

he stepped into the shower, joining you finally. his arms wrapped around your waist, your back flush against his chest, your body feeling everything he had to offer you, and it felt like a lot. he moved your soaked hair over one of your shoulders, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. he nipped at the skin, soothing the bites with his tongue, slowly trailing his hands that had been wrapped around your waist up your body. you threw your head back as he continued to kiss at your neck, whilst his hands moved to cup your breasts. he pinched your nipples, teasing the hardened buds with his fingertips, your quiet moans hitting his ears directly as your head rested against his shoulder. 

charles was growing impatient, and so were you, rolling your hips to grind your ass against him. he moaned at the pressure, placing his hands back on your waist to turn you around to face him. you pulled him in for a kiss as he walked you both further into the shower, until your back was pressed against the wall. it was cold against your heated skin, causing you to shiver, arching further into him. your chests were pushed together, hands back in his hair as you gasped into his mouth.

“what do you want, mon ange?” 

“want you to feel good.” charles was sure he felt all of the blood in his body rush towards his cock. you were quite literally a wet dream. 

“is that all you want, baby? don’t you want me to make you feel good?” charles would have loved some attention for himself, but knew he wouldn’t last if you gave it to him. besides, nothing would have gotten him off as much as seeing you writhing against the shower wall, all because of him. 

he kept one hand on your waist, the other one travelling down your body. he ran his fingers slowly from the top of your thigh down until he was caressing the soft skin of your inner thigh. you were looking at him so desperately, so intensely, that it almost made him dizzy, your eyes never leaving his. one of his fingers ran through your folds, making you hiss, hips instantly bucking at the contact. your reaction spurred him on, two fingers now tracing the seam of your pussy, both digits instantly soaked. he could have cum right then and there, painfully hard at the sight of you, the feel of you on his fingers. the same fingers he used to race around the streets of his hometown. suddenly he didn’t care at all about losing the race. he felt powerful. you made him feel powerful. 

he rubbed his fingers over your clit, slowly at first, until you were needy for him, his name tumbling from your lips in the form of a beg. he replaced his fingers with his thumb, sliding two of his fingers inside of you. you were moaning helplessly at the sensation, taking everything he gave you, without your eyes ever leaving his. it was like you’d both somehow entranced one other, neither of you able to look away, no matter how desperate you were to let your eyes flutter shut as the pleasure overwhelmed you. 

charles continued to fuck you with his fingers, his actions leaving your inner thighs soaking, nothing to do with the hot water pouring over you both. he traced patterns into your clit with the pad of his thumb, toying with his rhythm to keep you on your toes. charles could feel you tightening, inching closer and closer to your orgasm and it drove him insane, desperate to send you over the edge, spiralling for him. soon enough, you were there, panting and whining as you came, trying to pull him closer. 

you kissed him ferociously while he slowed down his ministrations. he pulled his hand away from your wet heat, using it to grab at your thigh and hoist it up over his waist. his body was quickly back against yours, hand splayed across your thigh as he held you against the wall. his nose brushed yours, as he guided his cock through your folds, both your breaths catching as he finally, finally, thrusted into you. as he bottomed out, you melted even further into one another, breath mingling as one of his hands held your thigh that rested on his waist, and the other locked with yours. the hand that held yours raised your clasped hands up and over your head, keeping you pinned against the wall, spread out delectably for him. your free hand was wrapped around his water soaked body, keeping him close as you dug your nails into the muscles of his toned back. 

he rocked into you, over and over, both of your moans meeting between your parted lips, electrifying the air between you. you were insatiable, never faltering, making charles feel better than any other person had to his recollection. you were perfectly in tune with him, body moving with his as if this was the way it was always supposed to be. you must have agreed with that, the way your sounds of pleasure were ricochetting off of the bathroom walls, fuelling charles’ ego in the way a race win never could. just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, you started to clench around him, the hand on his back finding it’s way back into his damp hair, as his hips snapped into yours. he let go of your thigh, bringing his hand between your slick bodies to rub your clit, coaxing you right to the edge. the feeling of your body reacting to him sent his eyes rolling back in his skull. 

“charles, fuck, i’m so close.” you whimpered. he was in ecstasy. 

“yeah? you gonna cum for me, mon ange? hmm?” he managed to get his words out, noting how exhausted, how desperate he sounded. 

charles didn’t get a verbal response from you, only a broken, earth shattering moan that set his entire body on fire. you let yourself go, falling to pieces in his arms and all he could do was watch, quickly meeting his own end. everything was white and hot and every single one of his nerve endings were wired all of the sudden, the hairs on his body standing on end. you shook in his arms, crying out his name one last time as you came back down to earth. 

charles pulled out of you, fucked out smile lazily creeping onto his face. the entirety of monaco chanting his name didn’t even come close to how good you made him feel. you really had meant it when you’d said you wanted to make him feel better. your eyes met and you looked at him shyly, a coy smile on your face that made him want to kiss you forever and ever.

you both stayed underneath the warm water a little while longer, gently washing each other as you relaxed. once you were both done, charles stepped out first, braving the cold air to hand you a fluffy white towel, smiling to himself as you wrapped yourself up in it. this was what he wanted. quiet moments with you that dulled out the background noise. he didn’t just want them in dark booths in clubs and in the back of taxis while pierre rambled to the driver, he wanted them all of the time. he craved this kind of intimacy with you, the domesticity of seeing you in a towel that he owned. 

once you’d both dried off, he found a t-shirt that you could wear, taking your worn dress and placing it with his laundry. he watched your absentmindedly towel dry your hair, the t-shirt hitting your mid thighs as you carded your fingers through the tangles. it was quiet in his bedroom, peaceful. he pulled the covers back on his bed, folding back the covers on the other side of the mattress too. your smile at the gesture told him that you’d stay, that you’d accept his silent offer and join him in the bed. you settled in comfortably beside him, head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you protectively, lovingly. a buzz from the bedside table caused you both to look over, quickly choosing to put your attention back on one another. 

you both ignored the name that lit up your phone, blissfully pretending like neither of you noticed. 

pierre would have to get through this solemn night without you. 

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppetangelika @wmaximoffz @starlightoctavia @japanesekel @stardustinggold @vinvantae @chaoticallypan @ashleyo1611 @ggaslyp1 @poofy-baby-unicorns @dr3lover @smiithys  @turningxstrange @lees0015 @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @1missglum1 @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @shinydragondelusion @alexk2002 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @f-1-fan

long story short, the taglist got a bit broken and now looks like this lol. hmu if you wanna be added or removed <33

[inkmemes]

young  royals  (  2021  )  sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  netflix’s  swedish  ya  drama.  non-contextual  spoilers.  trigger  warning  for  mentions  of  sexual  activity,  drugs,  alcohol,  death,  implied  internalised  homophobia,  bullying.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“at least you can stay for a cup of coffee?”

“hey, wait up. did you sleep together?” 

“he's probably making out with someone. forget it.”

“i can't take it anymore.”

“what are you doing?”

“and he had to finish your sentence. what's going on? you like him.”

“every time you see your dad, you get all depressed.”

“you're still here, so obviously you must want something.”

“are you high? what the hell are you on?”

“does this make you horny?” 

“i like [town name], but i don't want to live here forever.”

“you can leave now. go home. i'm staying here for the weekend.”

“do you want chocolate?”

“how do you feel?” 

“it's kind of hard to tell them apart, you know.” 

“you're a worthless drunk.”

“you … you need to figure out what you want. and you can take all the time you need. and i respect that. but you have to do it by yourself. i don't want to be anyone's secret.”

“you have to stop pretending that you're not afraid.”

“that's the thing, i just don't want that.”

“it's something new. something fresh.”

“can we talk privately for a minute?” 

“and if anyone gives you a hard time, you know, just let me know, and i'll take care of it.” 

“you do know you don't need to hide?” 

“are you gonna let us in?”

“promise to let me know if there's anything i can do.”

“hey, we won't go blind from your moonshine, right?”

“i'm just getting a good vibe. that's all.”

“you're so fucking pathetic.”

“you realize that this will have consequences?”

“he's such a fucking idiot.”

“i wanted us to have a few minutes alone.”

“when you're young, love feels like the most important thing in the world.” 

“i really like you.”

“felt like i had to rescue you from that situation.”

“it got so damn hot in there, i thought i'd get some fresh air.”

“you are allowed your own opinions. it's cool.”

“i've seen the way you look at each other.”

“here, this one is a little big for me, but i think it'll look great on you.”

“do you think royal dick is different than regular?”

“you're the only one here i feel i can actually talk to.” 

“i haven't heard anything yet, but i'll tell you as soon as i do.”

“you can't just lie here jerking off.”

“i don't want to go to some fucking boarding school!”

“i've missed this place so much.”

“are you going to horror movie night on friday?”

“but i like you. and that is not fake.”

“you don't need to share everything.”

“we should go to a concert again sometime.”

“you're fucking crazy!”

“where have you been? i've been trying to reach you.”

“just don't use the school's wi-fi for porn surfing. could be embarrassing.”

“but no matter what, they can't dictate what you say.”

“sorry about last night.”

“i don't want to talk to you!”

“i don't wanna sound like an idiot.”

“i was thinking, would you like to have a sleepover at my place? because that's something friends do. it's going to be really cozy.”

“i think maybe we should forget about that.”

“you can't really see that it is you.”

“i mean, it could be anyone. it's so fucking stupid.”

“i don't want to say anything.” 

“now you're doing it again. you're trying to take care of me.” 

“i can take it, it's okay.”

“that's not true. i haven't spoken to my parents.”

“we haven't done anything wrong.”

“you're beautiful! you're so beautiful.”

“i'm gay, [name].”

“seriously? what the fuck is your problem?”

“you keep letting people piss on you!”

“i just assumed you didn't want special treatment.”

“keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“so you thought you'd start spreading false rumours without having any proof?” 

“i just didn't want to lose you.”

“uh, there's pizza left if you want some.”

“everybody thinks you're perfect. you know that, right?”

“he's just been outed.”

“i'm going to fuck this up.”

“he bloody ruined my fucking life!”

“why are you sitting in your room sulking when you have a crush to hang out with?”

“hi. sorry, i was feeling a bit better. so i thought it was okay that i hung out with some friends.”

"everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want.”

“i woke up in my own bed. that's always something.”

“could i just have one second? just one second alone, please?”

“i’m sorry. but it was, like, the only way.”

“i thought, everyone deserves a second chance.”

“i'm sorry about the mess. i wasn't expecting such distinguished company.”

“i just don't want you to be treated badly again.”

“oh, fuck.”

“you don't even… aren't you even gonna answer me?”

“i didn't know that one was supposed to sign up.”

“in real life, you don't pay to get ahead.”

“and what the fuck does your dad do?”

“let's try to have some table manners.”

“it's, like, really serious.”

“who the hell can live like this for three fucking years?”

“that's what happens when you buy the cheap ones.”

“i need your help with something. ”

“being a prince is not a punishment, but a privilege.”

“it's awesome to just chill out.”

“or maybe he lied about that too. what do i know?”

“you have to give people a chance.”

“you have to try to see it from my perspective.” 

“what the hell's this?”

“what happened to "we should forget about it"?”

“stop being so fucking stubborn and try to understand my situation.”

“sometimes it's better not to say everything.” 

“i was just bored.”

“have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“sometimes it's better to keep quiet.”

“can i get you some coffee?”

“nobody else cares about these things.”

“i lost track of time.”

“everybody does the same things and everybody knows everybody.”

“thanks for rescuing me yesterday.”

“remember when he came up to us the first week and was like, "what's up?"”

“i need you to delete all our texts.”

“i can't keep doing this anymore.”

“are you gonna let them go on with their bullshit?”

“i want to be with you.”

“here's a blanket, a pillow, and bed sheets. there you go.”

“okay, yeah. you don't seem to have grasped what i'm trying to say.”

“it's usually boring as hell.”

“he's been dealing to us for months.”

“i don't want to talk to him.”

“don't you wanna date [name] anymore?”

“i don't know why he's started texting me again. he knows i don't want anything to do with him.” 

“yeah, we had a shitload of drugs.”

“we could murder someone, and nobody would say a word.”

“she needs some fun.”

“he's just doing it to fuck with me.”

“it's such a weird question.”

“i just wanted to say hi. i don't believe we've met. ”

“but i still want us to be friends.”

“if i were to stay here… would you… like to keep me company? just you and me.”

“everything's, like, upside down now.”

“have you always lived here?”

“damn it. sorry. shit. i completely forgot.”

“i'm sure someone has a story to tell.”

“you've got to put yourself first. i mean, no matter what he thinks about it.”

“come on! you can't just sit there stuck in your room.”

“you can snuggle up in my safe arms if it gets scary.”

“i want to live a normal life.”

“let me have a look. you can hardly see it.”

“any other dick that's been sucked?”

“you just expect everything to be on your terms.”

“i want to know everything!”

“you don't have to go there. i'll take care of myself.”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” 

“i'll just stay in and go to bed early.”

“thanks for explaining the schedule.”

“i'd rather die.”

“i don't want you to be mad.”

“promise to tell me if something is wrong.”

“i can't be dressed like this if you're dressed like that.” 

“it's really complicated.”

“it feels like you don't care what people think about you, or if you have a lot of friends and stuff.” 

“nobody asked you to come. feel free to leave if you want.”

“well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this!” 

“there isn't so much to do around here.”

“you've become such a snob.”

“i know you're only trying to help me.” 

“do you like it here?”

“i don't wanna go in there. we're not even invited. fuck this.”

“don't you think it's weird [name] invited us to come?”

“if they hadn't been here, would you've, uh, made out with me?”

“so, you're an actual proper couple now?”

“you're thinking about someone else.”

“you're right. we're doing this together.”

“thanks… for nothing.”

“why are you even so obsessed with him?”

“i want you to hold me.”

“call me when you want to be picked up.”

“what the fuck do you care?” 

“i don't think we're a couple or anything. i don't know what it is.”

“you never asked me!”

“your focus should be on comforting me so that i can comfort him.” 

“it's not that hard. you have to be able to keep up appearances.”

“famous people make videos like that.”

“maybe somebody forgot to tell me, as usual.”

“just make a move on [name] and show him what you want.”

“you wanna stay a while and jam?”

“have you talked to your parents about it?”

“a diverse bunch of losers, who'll never amount to anything.”

“why can't i decide how the hell i want to live?”

“apparently, i'm the only one who doesn't know everybody.”

“i used to have straight a's on every test.”

“it will damage our reputation.”

“i'm fucking starving.”

“why is it called tax "evasion" but welfare "scam"? it's all right that rich people cheat, but when poor people do it, it's messed up. for rich people, it's not even called "welfare”, it's called "deduction."”

“what the fuck is rowing?”

“what the hell have you done, [name]?”

“good voice, man.”

“why can't i just have a relationship with him?”

“did you have fun last friday?”

“all the people are fake. they're made out of metal.”

what do you want me to say? i'm sorry!”

“is this some kind of prank?”

“i like you when you are yourself!”

“but you like him, don't you?”

“she shouldn't talk to you like that.”

“are you into him?”

“something's not right, i think we should head back to the road.”

“do you have trouble sleeping?”

“doesn't anyone care what i want?”

“just don't tell anyone that i've been here.”

“i was going to text you back, but…”

“your only mistake was that you hung out with the wrong kind of people.”

“i just wanted to help.”

“i know you'll use anything to get high or drunk.” 

“it's time to stop being so selfish.”

“i just want my fucking money.”

“you should've planned ahead. didn't you bring a sandwich?” 

“who the fuck wants to be normal anyway?”

“you fucking told me you were the one i could always come to!”

“i take it back.”

“i can see there's something going on.”

“i have to finish getting ready, so if you could please leave.”

“no one likes me when i'm myself.” 

“i hope you have a nice christmas.”

“i'm gonna do the wrong things, say the wrong things.”

“my mom is gonna kill me.”

“do you remember what you said to me last night?”

“i cannot be dragged into this.”

“i like you too.”

“you're no longer a part of my family.”

“it's well-suited for smaller people.”

“i assume that he thought that it would make him popular.”

“i didn't ask for this!”

“it's no problem. i like doing it.”

“it feels like i'm gonna throw up.”

“don't i get any breakfast?”

“whatever i do, i can't do anything right.”

“we haven't been to any party whatsoever.”

“did you get my texts?”

“i think it sounds romantic.”

“uh, wait, you have to come to the horror movie night on friday.”

“i liked what you said in there, [name].”

“okay, maybe he used to be a player, but love can actually change you.”

“it's nice to make an effort and dress up for dinner.” 

“i'm in a fucked-up situation and i'm trying to talk to you.” 

“you don't understand. i was gonna pay it.”

“you're not that kind of guy.”

“i was about to go outside and, um, do you wanna come with?”

“what about me?” 

“it was… okay, i guess.”

“can i sit with you?”

“you call this a scary movie?”

“i have a million things to take care of, i don't have time to talk to you.”

“have you lost it completely?”

“but i'm starving.”

“this past year has been difficult for me.”

“i don't get it. she's making it into such a big deal.”

“no, this won't work. just take it off, please.” 

“i'm not like that.”

“fuck you. it's not a crush.”

“then i know that i can't count on you.”

“can't you come see me in [town] sometime?”

“it's just that we can't be seen together.” 

“he was still sleeping when i walked in.”

“doesn't bother me at all. i've seen it. absolutely. 100%.”

“[name] is really getting on my nerves! seriously.”

“i want us to be friends again.”

“i thought you and [name] were friends.”

“make sure you check your dms. okay?”

“you think it's fun to fuck with people like me?”

“never spend money you don't have. okay?”

“you think i'm stupid?”

“this sucks.” 

“how nice to see some smiles.”

“this isn't just about me, but my entire family.”

“i'm going to marry her.”

“are you threatening me?”

“don't you realize the shit storm that follows if i come out?” 

“i don't want you to talking to her.”

“remember what we saw during movie night? when they sat next to each other?”

“i love you.”

“i just want to hang out with you.”

"there's no point in having a back-up if you never use it."

“pretend i'm saying something clever.”

“how's [name]? he must be totally devastated.”

“what do you think they think we're talking about?”

“everything is fake. everything in the world is fake.”

“[name] is dead.”

“it just wasn't what i thought it would be like.”

“since when did you start liking him for real?” 

“what a fucking douchebag. god!”

“what the hell are you saying? chill out!”

[hyunjilicious]

I just read what is and what should never be and it was PHENOMENAL! I love everything you write anyway so I was wondering if you could do a small one where Bucky is alone and depressed and he calls yn because he feels lost and she is just there for him? No worries if you can't! I love you anyway 💕

Omg!! You’re too sweet! I really wanted to do this one justice, but I suck at angst... I love you too!! and I’m sorry if this sucks!

Summary: after the events of Endgame, you and Bucky part ways. Even though you haven’t spoken in months, when he needs you, you’re there ANGST 2.2k

Warnings: overall angsty vibes. Sad Bucky. Idk depictions of depression I guess? shitty writing!

“You came” Bucky's surprised tone pulled you out of your thoughts.

Before saying anything else, you shook your head in disbelief. From certain points of view, he looked exactly the same as when you last saw him months ago, but if you looked past his rugged exterior, it was very easy to tell something was truly eating away at his heart.

“Of course I came” you frowned, “You called me”

“Thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore” Bucky mumbled.

You looked him up and down, thoroughly confused by his statement, but decided to keep the tone of the conversation from going too dark too fast. “Shut up, Barnes” you scoffed, “Don’t even joke about that.” A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips, but it was forced, you could easily tell he wasn’t truly being himself. “What’s up?”

Bucky took a deep breath as if gathering the courage to word his thoughts. When his eyes met yours he flinched, the pain clouding his otherwise bright blue eyes. He started with a long sigh and a shake of his head but then, cringed as he finally spoke up. “I need help”

His confession went directly to the pit of your stomach. “What happened? Whatever it is, you got it, but what-”

“Nothing happened” Bucky stopped you, “I need help”

“I don’t understand”

“I need someone to-” he sighed, closing his eyes as his head fell forward in what could only be described as shame, “I need someone to talk to” and it was funny, considering he just walked out of his psychiatrist’s office. “Someone that’s not paid to listen to me” he added, “Someone who understands”

It was moments like these that you truly wished Steve was still here. Or Nat. Your best friends, yes, but they were the glue that held you all together, and now in their absence, you were all threatening to fall apart. 

But of course you’d be there for Bucky. Whatever he needed you were more than eager to provide, but at the same time, you were fully aware that your capabilities were limited. You didn’t lack the understanding or the experience, but you lacked the words. You had the sympathy, but not the advice he needed. But you were there. Like you have always been and always will be, so, that afternoon you ended up on his living room floor.

Surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol that had no effect on either of you whatsoever, you sat and listened to him rant his heart out until his throat couldn’t take it anymore. And then he broke down - completely. A full on mess, tears staining his cheeks as the temperature dropped in the room with every other pained groan he’d release. But he let it all out and the weight he had been carrying on his shoulder was unimaginable. There were too many things eating away at his heart, but the guilt was what kept him under its spell, what kept him up for the last months, what was physically destroying him.

“Y/n... “ he called for you, face hidden in his hands as he spoke, “I know you’re gonna say no, but-”

“No,” you stopped him, “Then don’t ask me”

“Please”

“No, Bucky” you sighed, grabbing his wrist so you could look him in the eyes, “If you already know it’s a bad idea, please don’t tell me because I’m afraid I’ll actually go through with it right now”

“But i can’t fucking sleep!” he cried out loud, falling back against the couch, arms propped up on his knees, “I keep having the same nightmares over and over again, and I can’t take it anymore”

“You don’t-” you took a deep breath, “You don’t want me to erase your mind, do you?”

The look in his eyes proved that that was exactly what he wanted. And the unshed tears that coated the otherwise pure and radiant blue of his eyes was almost enough to convince you.

“Please-” he begged, “I-”

“No, Buck” you shook your head and shuffled to face him properly, “As time passes, it’s only gonna get worse. The past will eventually catch up to you. You’ll want to know what you did”

He didn’t have it in him to fight you, so silence settled for a while. “You know sedatives don’t work on me?”

“I… never thought about it, but that makes sense”

Bucky gathered his lips into a tight line and nodded his head.

“Lady shrink isn’t of any help?” you asked.

“I have no clue what she’s doing” he shrugged, “Maybe it’s good in the long run, but fuck if I know how she expects me to make any kind of progress right now”

“You are, tho” you reassured him, “Making progress I mean”

“Am I?” Bucky laughed incredulously.

“Yes! You’re almost completely on your own feet. You really pushed through”

“Or maybe I’m just ignoring all of my problems”

“You just told me about them” you chuckled, and threw an arm over his shoulders.

Hesitatingly at first, he eventually leaned in into your hold, allowing himself to completely fall against your chest. “I hate this”

“I think that’s a given” you laughed, curling your fingers around the roots of his way too short hair. “A wise man once said that whenever someone acts like they have their shit together, they’re either lying or delusional”

“Who said that?”

“I don’t know” you confessed, “I saw that on the internet”

For the first time that night, you actually heard him laugh, and it sounded so good - it was short and weak, but it was sweet and honest. “That’s a pathetic attempt at cheering me up, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it” Bucky said as he pushed himself up.

“I wish I could do more” you mumbled, “But I don’t know what, or how, but-”

“Thank you”

“You don’t have to thank me, you know that” you smiled.

He didn’t know that. He’d never stop thanking you for even the smallest gestures. The day where Bucky would understand that kindness, in some cases, is a given, was far away, but you had the patience and determination to work for it.

As you talked and talked, and the topic of conversation kept shifting from one area to the other, the sun set, night settling outside his small windows. It was time for you to leave, and you would’ve done it, had he asked you not to at the last second.

You had your shoes on and one hand on the door handle, when he stumbled over his words, obviously too shy to properly hold his ground. “Actually can you- can you-” he mumbled, pointing to his couch, “Can you stay here tonight?”

And of course you did. The night didn’t last much longer after that, with Bucky settling on the floor, only a blanket to keep him company, and you sprawled out on the couch as silence settled.

But your mind was too busy to drift off. You knew his’ was too, but decided to refrain from speaking up, hoping to let him fall asleep, even for a short while.

It was loud inside your head. You always promised yourself you’d never intrude on someone’s thoughts and read through them without their approval, but you physically felt Bucky radiate energy, and your mind just slipped. But then, your heart almost stopped.

You saw yourself. You saw yourself slapping him back in Wakanda when he decided to go under ice again, you saw yourself moving a car out of his way back in Bucharest, when you risked your life for his because you trusted Steve that much, and because you were that good of a friend. You saw yourself at Tony’s funeral, eyes shiny with tears and then felt an almost uncontrollable urge to hug yourself - and then realised it wasn’t your urge, it was Bucky’s. At this point, your heart beat so fast you were actually afraid he’d hear it. But when goosebumps appeared all over your skin, you realised he couldn’t hear you, that he was asleep and that the nightmares started materializing. 

What convinced you to act on it was the sudden jerk of his body and the way to fully tensed instantly after. So, unable to just sit and watch, you rolled over to the side and allowed your hand to fall by his temple, little specks of light rolling off the tips of your fingers as you forced the thoughts away. Seconds later, you saw him relax and shift around, gathering the blanket he laid on to his chest as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

His relaxed form and the steady pace of his breathing put a smile on your face. But you made the mistake of thinking this was a one time thing, however, before you realised, you found yourself leaning over him again, ushering yet another wave of nightmares away. And it kept being an ongoing process until the sun rose, and you cursed yourself as you did not get one second of shut eye. But it was worth it. The sight of him finally resting, knowing he spent his night in his happy place that you this time did not intrude on, made up for your tiredness. 

When Bucky drifted out of his deep sleep, you figured it was safe to relax too. But knowing that if you went to sleep right now you wouldn’t wake up until noon, you stood up, determined to give him the full best friend experience.

But all you found in his kitchen was a box of stale cereal, a soft cucumber and candy wrappers. Had he not looked so adorable sleeping shirtless and curled into a ball on the floor, you would have woken him up yelling. But instead, you decided to order some food, and the simple fact that the sound of the delivery guy ringing the doorbell didn’t wake him up, actually terrified you. With a life like yours, no one sleeps that deeply, but then there he was, snoring away the late hours of the morning. 

By the time he finally stirred awake, the food was already cold, and you were bored out of your mind. “What- what time is it?” he mumbled, voice rich with sleep.

“A little bit past 2” you yawned from your spot on the couch.

“2 pm?” Bucky huffed, sitting up in a hurry and rushing to grab his phone. “What the-” he turned to you confused, “It’s 2pm…”

“Yeah” you sighed, “And the food is cold”

“Food?” Bucky gawked, looking over at the small table by the window, “You got food?”

“You didn’t have any” you defended yourself. You wanted to scold him for not taking better care of himself, but he looked so homey and cozy and vulnerable, that you couldn’t bring yourself to.

Eventually, you stood up and walked over to him. “I’ll let you eat, Buck, but I gotta go” you sighed, giving him a hug, “Got some stuff to do” you lied, by stuff meaning sleep, since you were exhausted.

“Yeah, of course” he mumbled in agreement, wrapping his arms around your frame, and bringing you closer. He sank his head into the crook of your neck, holding you to his chest for a moment longer than you would have considered friendly. But you didn’t complain, his hold was stern and loving, and you really needed that right now. “Thank you” Bucky added when he finally let you go. His right palm cupped your cheek as he looked down at you, awe and admiration in his eyes.

“Nothing to thank me for, Buck” you smiled, and then pulled away.

He silently watched you get ready to leave, following you around until you reached the door and turned around to say goodbye. And it was weird. Your heart boomed against your ribcage, and you didn’t have to read his thoughts to know he was feeling the same kind of nervous. And it may have been the one too many stories you read but you actually feared something was going to happen. Thankfully, it didn’t. Instead you shared another hug, and parted ways.

However, all you managed to do was reach the staircase before you heard his door open, followed by the sound of his bare feet sprinting down the hallway. “What are you-”

“Can you stay?” he asked, shaking from head to toe, “In New York I mean, can you please stay? Just a few more days”

“Well, I- yeah, I guess I can” you mumbled.

“I just, I need a few more days. You’re screwing my head back on, I just need you now. Steve is gone, and Sam is all the way in Louisiana and I hate phones and I-”

“Wow-” you laughed, “I’m not even the second choice, I’m the third?”

“Shut up, Y/n” Bucky frowned, “Stop being a smartass for a second”

“I’m sorry” you rolled your eyes, but he didn’t care.

In the blink of an eye, Bucky threw his arms around your shoulders and hugged you close, and you weren’t sure if the ‘I love you’ that echoed inside your mind had actually been spoken or just thought, but it was everything you never knew you needed.

[ecemichi]

Ring.A.Bell Chapter 3

Content Warning!

Contains mentions of alcohol.

Midori and Mao: (Siiiiigh)...

Mao: In the end, if someone asked me if I enjoyed what I ate, I wouldn't be able to tell them at all…

Midori: It was my first time eating a hamburger that I couldn’t taste for shit… So my sense of taste depends that much on my mood, huh.

Mao: Yeah, no joke... Guess you learn something new every day.

Midori: Speaking of which, what the hell was that all about? For real, what was that? Are weddings the latest trend on the streets now? Even more than mascot characters?!

Mao: Don't ask me~... I wanna know what's up too, y'know.

I mean, is this stuff really the type to be in style? Marriage, I mean.

But I didn't think Anzu'd just jump the gun like that so suddenly... Well, nevermind, she is pretty impulsive...

Still, that's not like her at all.

Midori: But if it isn’t about trying to be in style, then that means she really is getting wed for real...

Mao: Then it really is like we thought... She's really getting married...

Midori: Ughhh… I have no idea how I should face her the next time I see her...

Mao: Same here...

Midori and Mao: ...

Mao: So, uh... Anyway, we should proooobably head inside the dorms instead of just... loitering around out here like a pair of weirdos.

Midori: Yeah, that’s… yeah you’re right. If we get reported as suspicious people on top of this, it would just make things worse for us.

Mao: ...

Midori: ...

Midori: ...Umm…. Why aren’t you moving? Aren’t you going back to the dorms?

Mao: That's my line, Takamine.

Midori: I mean, ‘cuz Isara-senpai’s just standing there, so am I...

Mao: Well, I'm just standing here 'cause you're still standing here too... Anyway, there's no point in us going back and forth like this, let's go already...

Midori: Yeah, let’s...

Midori and Mao: ...

Mao: So like, why're you following me, anyway?

Midori: I’m not following you or anything. I just thought of heading to the kitchen for a bit.

Why are you coming this way anyways? Wouldn’t it be better to go back to your room?

Mao: Oh, I had the same thought as you. Going to the kitchen and all...

Midori and Mao: ...

Mao: ... Hey, Takamine?

... (Makes a "want a drink?" gesture.)

Midori: …(Silently nods.)

Mao: We'll just have some soda though, since we're still underaged. Heads up, Takamine.

Midori: Ah, thank you. Though I doubt drowning our sorrow with soda instead of alcohol would help...not that I’ve drank alcohol before.

Mao: Hey, don't say that. Soda is seriously better than nothing, right?

Midori: Well, you’re right on that.

Mao: Man, adults really have it made~. They can actually drink alcohol. Hey, I heard you can forget stuff if you have too many. That true?

Midori: It’s more up to the person who’s drinking. My pops remembers everything no matter how much he drinks.

But I’ve heard you start vibing really hard when you drink. Anything seems fun and all.

One time when I was young, I asked him if it was really as tasty as he made it look like, and he told me, “It’s more fun than it is tasty”.

Mao: That just makes me wish we could have some more than ever...

Midori: Right. But when you hear that you could lose your memories or be over-ecstatic, it kinda sounds dangerous...

Mao: Yeah, that's true...

Leo: Mmmmm? Oooh, uchuu~☆ Just got in, huh? Welcome baaaaack!

Midori: ...Ah, umm. We’re back.

Mao: Tsukinaga-senpai...? What're you doing here?

Leo: Me? I've been trying to pen down some new music in my room, but that wasn't working out, so I decided to come here for a change of pace!

On the other hand, what're you two doing here? Having a secret rendezvous? Conspiring? Whatever it is, it's fine, go right ahead~

Spite's what separates the kids from the adults, after all! ... I think, I dunno!

Midori: If you aren’t sure, then don’t say it..

Mao: We're not conspiring or having any sort of secret anything, Tsukinaga-senpai. It's just... Uh... I'm just having a drink with my junior, that's all...

Leo: That soooo? I've never seen anyone drink soda with such a pathetic look before! What, is it not tasty or something?

Well, whatever! Oooh, wait, that's the ticket! That is the ticket! I've struck creative gold!

I'm supposed to write.... a heartbreaker, I guess it's called? It's about someone who was too late in saying anything~.

Mao: Ugh...!

Leo: I don't like sad songs like this, but I took it on anyway! The person who asked is someone I owe, so there's no way I could tell 'em no~.

And the depressing mood in here's really getting my inspiration juices going!

Mao: Guh...?!

Midori: Ah- Isara-senpai keeps getting shot by stray bullets…! Come back to your senses, Isara-senpai!

I can’t believe you’d kick someone’s corpse, Tsukinaga-senpai. You’re the worst.

Leo: Eh?! What'd I do?!

Being shot at, getting stung by a stray bullet — when did the dorms become a battlefield? I've got no idea what's goin' on, but sorry for whatever!

Mao: N-Nah, it's fine... I'm good. It's nothing, just... forget about it, okay?

Leo: Ooookay? You look like you're really goin' through something right now, should I leave?

Mao: No, no, it's fine, really. We'll be quiet, so you can keep working, Tsukinaga-senpai.

Midori: Yeah. We’ll become one with the corner of the room...So please just think of us as decoration or something.

Leo: So I oughta just treat you guys like you're not even there? Wahaha! ☆ What weirdos~♪

I like weird stuff! I think that's the best place for the undiscovered to exist! But alright, whatever you say! I'll get this done lickity-split. ♪

Mao and Leo tl: Peace

Midori tl: me

JP and ENG proof: 310mc

==> next

[shoutogepi]

Taking Care of Their Drunk S/O After a Girls’ Night Out

with Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou 

genre : [ ☀︎ ]  fluff!! & a tiny bitta steam~

hc prompt : how would he take care of you if you come home wasted after a girls’ night out?

author’s note : this is my first time writing headcanons!! idk if this is good hc material but lemme know what you think! :) **gif not mine!!

bakugou:

first of all, blasty is annoyed that you’re going out and ditching his elderly ass at home. it’s a wednesday night so who in their right mind would be going to the club?? sure it’s your close friend’s birthday but they couldn’t just push the celebration to the weekend like a normal person?

sure you have work tomorrow but you’re young enough and it’s your friend’s birthday, they just went through a breakup so you just wanna be there for them, physically and emotionally. and bakugou gets that, but he’s still gonna be crabby about it cuz he usually drags you into bed at like ten pm.

more importantly, he likes to have you tucked up in his arms, nose in your hair and tbh your ass on his crotch. it’s just so much easier to fall asleep knowing you’re safe and there with him, and even though he complains about it, the sound of your gentle snores really lull him into slumber.

therefore he has a hard time falling asleep just because you’re not with him, but then the fact that he’s in his large bed and you’re out and about, looking killer in that sexy clubbing number... he’s gnashing his teeth and twisting in the sheets no doubt. knowing you’re most likely very far from sober doesn't really help either. and just thinking of all the creeps that’re probably eyeing up every inch of skin, every curve hugged perfectly by that black sleek dress he usually loves but really despises right now… ugh, he just can’t sleep with his blood boiling like this.

so of course he’s still awake, very agitated may i add, when scratching noises at the door start at two thirty in the morning.

you’re pathetically attempting to open the front door, but the key to the apartment is almost identical to the lobby key and then… the elevator key is there too and oh my goshhh the mailbox key is so small it’s hilarious!! like it’s a baby or something and idk you’re just vibing, laughing at the mini object drunk off your ass.

and a disgruntled katsuki swings the door wide open while you’re giggling at your fucking keychain like an idiot.

caught like a deer in headlights, your expression actually makes his frown melt into an amused smirk, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. “hey dopey, what’s so funny?”

shaking off the embarrassment, you throw your arms into the air and close your eyes, a great big grin on your lips as you loudly cheer his name.

katsuki has a huge weak spot for you and you just look so genuinely happy to see him that he doesn’t bother to make fun of you further, he just slips an arm around your waist and gathers you inside.

he asks how your night was while he bends down to take off your shoes, instructing you to lean on the door for support because you’re all wobbly and clearly not capable of standing upright on your own. god, how did you even make it back by yourself in one piece?

once the shoes are off, he scoops you up like you weigh nothing. years of training have paid off, i mean, his biceps are probably the same circumference as your skull so… it makes sense that he’s able to carry you so easily but it still blows your mind every time he does it.

sets you on the edge of the bed, kissing your forehead when you ask if he’s always had such sparkly eyes. oh, how they shine in the moonlight. lmao you’re a cheesy drunk. he shakes it off with the classic bakugou tch but you know deep down he loves it.

he takes off your constrictive clothing so all you’re left in is your underwear, and yeah his eyes linger because you’re literally perfect to him. but it’s like three am now and he just wants to get you ready for bed, so he puts one of his ground zero shirts on you because he doesn’t trust himself to not escalate the situation with you sitting naked in front of him like that.

has you sit on the sink counter in the bathroom while he hands you your toothbrush, toothpaste already squeezed out and bristles wettened. as you very sloppily brush your teeth, complaining about how the mint flavor is “too spicy”, he’s busy getting out the makeup remover and wipes.

he watches you do your little routine every night so he’s well versed in what to do. he ties your hair back and you’re surprised, like, how does he know how to tie a girl’s hair?? you figure it’s from past experience so you let him know your thoughts.

he’s red from ear to ear with blush, and he adamantly explains that “it’s not that hard to do, smartass, i didn’t learn from that.”

is all pouty and grumbly as he swipes the cotton pad across your face but his touch is sweet and so careful, loving. you lean into him like a cat, and he gets even redder because fuck you’re really cute.

after you’re done brushing your teeth, katsuki hands you a glass of water and tells you to drink it, or else you’re not getting any cuddles tonight.

“slow down dopey— i didn’t mean all in one go!”

he puts on your skincare stuff too, and he even rubs it into your skin in the right direction and pressure.

you just kinda sit there and then suddenly you’re tearing up because your man is so considerate ?? and gentle?? and he’s just, ugh, perfect and all yours and you’re just really in your feelings all the sudden.

katsuki is shook when he stops focusing on rubbing the moisturizer into your neck to see tears gathering along your lower lashes.

“hey, what’s wrong, princess? did something happen? do you feel alright?”

you just pull him close and hold him tight. and katsuki is the smartest guy you know, he picks up all your social cues. so he softly wraps his strong arms around you, calloused fingers rubbing into your scalp.

“i just really love you,” you whimper, muffled his now damp shirt. “i’m sorry for keeping you up, i meant to just sneak in and slide into bed. you don’t have to do all this.”

he’s quiet for a moment before he squeezes you carefully, letting out a low sigh. “you worry too much, baby. you know i’d do anything for you...” he leans back and his thumb rolls over your wet cheek, eyes half lidded and a small, sincere smile on his lips, “and, i really love you too.”

kirishima:

kiri isn’t really the type to get super overprotective, and he does his fair share of partying so he is more than understanding when you tell him you’re going to the club with the girls.

he does pout a little when you tell him he can’t come, but he quickly accepts the fact because he understands it’s “girls’ night” and he probably wouldn’t want to be there for that anyway. although he does quip out a small comment about how sexy you look in your clubbing outfit, and how much sexier it’s gonna look on your bedroom floor later on.

safe to say you leave the house with a blush on your cheeks and a little heat between your legs.

you’re out with the 1A girls tonight— you’d all stayed pretty close after graduation and somehow you’d finally managed to get a night that all of you could attend. you can’t remember how many rounds of shots go by, and by the time the club is closing, your friends are all in various stages of drunkenness.

tsuyu and ochaco are playing some children’s hand game and singing along to it while they clap their hands together incessantly, jirou and hagakure are stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk as some kind of competition and yelling in indignation, and mina and momo have their arms around your shoulders as they debate what would be tastier right now: takoyaki or taiyaki.

honestly you keep tripping up on the words because they sound so similar, so the conversation just keeps going in circles until one of you finally decides to call a cab.

it’s about one in the morning— the group had left the club to get a snack before the easy mart across the street closed and you’d each gotten probably too many foods, your eyes bigger than your stomach.

kirishima laughs when you walk into the apartment, wobbling a bit with the (surprisingly full) plastic “thank you!” bag swinging around in the air.

“hey babe, whatcha got there? woah now—“

he reaches out and catches you before you tumble over, a red brow raised teasingly at your questionable balance.

“you alright baby?”

his voice is always deep, but it sounds even more intoxicatingly velvety in your drunken stupor, and all you do is give him the eyes with your tongue poking out between your lips.

he laughs at you again, nodding and whispering a “later, eager girl” in your ear as he sits you down on the couch, large hands fiddling with the straps on your ankles.

kiri frowns as the heel comes off, angry red marks marring the top of your foot, the back of your ankle faring even worse with a blister rubbed raw laying there.

you hiss when he touches it experimentally, a look of surprise on your face and frustration on his.

“y’know you’re really deadly in those heels babe, but if i’d known they’d hurt ‘ya i wouldn’t have let ‘ya wear ‘em out for so long…”

he disappears into the bathroom for a moment only to come back with the first aid kit. he gingerly holds your foot with one hand, the other dabbing some antibacterial cream onto the wound. he rips the wrapper with his pointy teeth, and you stifle a laugh at his red hero logo littered across the bandage.

he chuckles at your laughter, pressing a gentle kiss to your knee as he repeats the action on the other foot.

once he’s done and you’re all bandaged up, he sits next to you on the sofa, pulling your legs up across his lap.

he is not afraid to stay up late with you— actually, he prefers it because he just loves talking with you, especially when you’re all giggly and blushy because of the alcohol. plus he doesn’t want you to go to sleep still drunk (which he can tell you clearly still are), cuz he thinks you’ll have more of a hangover and it’s not that he doesn’t wanna take care of you tomorrow, it’s that he doesn’t want you to be in any pain if you can avoid it. he is a gentleman after all.

kiri inquires how your night out was, and you inform him of all the fun you’d had with the girls. he nods as he listens, big hands coming to rub your feet with the tiniest bit of strength— just enough to soothe your aching feet.

he tends to your every need;

fetching you an icy water bottle and encouraging you to drink from it frequently— “take another sip for me baby, I’ll add another minute to your massage if ‘ya do— haha that’s it, good girl!”

turning on the fan when you say you’re a little warm— “you’re hot? yeah i know. kidding. lemme get the fan for ‘ya.”

flicking on the TV and putting on your choice of entertainment. he doesn’t mind that it’s that show you love, even if it’s his third time watching this particular episode— “great choice babe, this one’s funny… hey, what’s that look for? of course it’s alright, i love this show!”  

it’s more of a background noise anyway as he talks with you, genuinely enjoying your company and just being there with you. he just wants to chat with you; share your smiles and hear your thoughts from the night, make silly jokes about the show and hear your laugh, lay his cheesy pickup lines on you even though you’ve been his for quite some time now.

and it’s so cute to him how you stumble on your words and amuse yourself when you’re drunk like this, and then when you remember you had bought snacks he swears his heart skips a beat at your squeal of excitement.

“this one’s for you!” you chime happily, hand outstretched and offering the box of pocky to him. his heart melts a little (okay maybe a lot) at your gift— he’d said he was craving chocolate last night and you had remembered, even in your intoxicated state.

gosh, he really loves you.

he’s about to voice the emotion when his thumb brushes over the perfect spot on the arch of your foot particularly hard, and a loud moan erupts from your lips, your brow furrowing and your lip pinching between your teeth.

you share a heated look before he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“thanks babe, but the pocky’ll have to wait,” he murmurs as he tosses the box aside, pushing the bag of snacks onto the floor. crawling over your legs with a sharp-toothed smirk on his lips, he growls lowly, a glint in his crimson eyes. “there’s something else i needa taste of now…”

➥ masterlist — thanks for reading as always :)

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[mrwinterr]

Kissletoe

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: You’re not a fan of mistletoes. You think it’s an outdated Holiday tradition and an excuse for lovesick fools to steal a kiss. Unlucky for you, college parties are riddled with them this year and someone’s been trying to meet you under one all night.

Warnings: College shenanigans (no one cares in the real world). Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, vaginal penetration & fingering, oral [female receiving], handjob & attempted dirty talk/goofy sex?). Language. Mentions of drugs and alcohol. & bad Christmas pickup lines.

Title Inspiration: “Kissletoe” by 3OH!3

A/N: I’ve never been kissed under the mistletoe let alone attended a legit college party because I’ve been lame my whole life. 🔔 ‘Tis that season! 🎄 Happy Holidays, ya filthy, lovely readers! 🙋🏻‍♀️ Raise your hand if you’re on the naughty list this year! ❤️ Enjoy!

It’s the end of the college fall semester and for the majority of students, the only way to celebrate surviving finals week is to let loose and party, especially right before you’re all forced to go back home to visit family for the Holidays.

“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” You hear your friend and roommate Natasha ask.

You stop stuffing your belongings in a box and pause at her question to look down at your current attire - black leggings paired off with an oversized University college-style sweatshirt. You had your hair pulled up in a messy bun, your face clear of any make-up, and lastly your feet were clad in funky, fuzzy socks. This is what you normally wore inside the dorm around her, and you certainly didn’t need to dress to impress just to go home. What was she on about?

“Uh, home? Where else would I be going at the end of the semester?” You reply, an obvious answer.

“Don’t be a smartass,” she retorts, and is quick to follow up when she sees the knowing look on your face and mouth open to retaliate with an even sassy response, “and don’t even start!”

She knew you’d say something like you were exactly that, smart. You in fact had amazing grades and excelled in every course you’d enrolled in. You were confident that you’d aced your exams, so you’re not checking the portal every chance you could get to see if the professor had uploaded your grades yet.

“You’re not supposed to be leaving until Monday,” she reminded you.

“I know, but I mean, there’s no rule saying I had to stay here until then,” you clarify, continuing to pack up more of your things, “I’d rather much get a head start.”

“You’re that eager to get away from me, huh?” She says, feigning sadness.

“You’re the only thing I’m going to miss about college,” you assure her.

College was a different experience for everyone. It was an introduction to the real world. Some used it to start anew, to buckle down and make something of themselves, others used it as an extension to repeat four more years of high school.

You took your studies very seriously, especially if you wanted to maintain your scholarship. It was a known fact college wasn’t cheap and you were fortunate to be here on one. With all that aside, you still knew when to have some fun. After all, all work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy, right? You didn’t want to be that kind of person, you wanted to enjoy your college years, and luckily you had almost a polar opposite friend in Natasha to level you out.

“We just survived another week of finals,” she states, and grabbing your arms to stop you for just one second, “what better way to celebrate than partying?”  

She sees the conflicted look in your eyes, and can tell you’re weighing out the pros and cons. There were a lot of cons: you’d be surrounded by tons of people, most of which were going to be drunk as fuck or high out of their minds on whatever substance was passed around and the threat of getting taken advantage of by some stranger. The pros? You had some steam to let off and this was a chance to gather and see some of your other friends before the Holiday break. ‘Tis the season, right?

“I guess you’re right,” you start, beginning to compromise, “why not? It’ll be like a little send off,” you decide, throwing in a shrug, and that was it.

“We’re college kids, it’s our right,” Natasha shrugs, before digging into one of your boxes and pulling out one of your cute dresses. You could always count on her to help look good too.  

When you both take the short walk to the house, where tonight’s party would be taking place, you abruptly halt at the end of the front porch steps, breaking your locked arms with Natasha.

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” She curses lightly as she almost trips backwards.

“This house…” you start, taking a step back and look up to inspect it, squinting, as if that would do you any good in the dark.

“Yeah?” She asks, a little too impatient, obviously hiding something.

“It’s familiar,” you continue, still trying to find out why it was so. Usually, that wasn’t a good thing...

“Come on. What are you talking about? It’s just a house. Don’t think too much and have fun tonight!” She says, stomping back down the steps and grabbing your arm to drag you up towards the front door.

“I guess you’re right,” you say, giving up again. What were you so worried about?  

“Aren’t I always?” She comments, and is, again, quick to shut you down when she sees you open your mouth. She presses her finger to the doorbell just as your mouth closes, and you both await the host.

You look off to the side and stare at the Greek letters tacked onto the wall. You knew you weren’t going to let it go on trying to find out why this house looked so familiar. Then, just when you’ve figured it out, your eyes widen in realization, the grip around your arm intertwined with Natasha’s tightens, feeling your attempt to slip away. The door swings open and the voice that booms out of the person, verifies your answer.

“Well, well, well...the weather outside sure is frightful, but this,” Bucky Barnes starts out singing before looking only in your direction, “oh, seeing you, is so delightful,” ending in a somewhat serious note.

“God, I hate winter,” you comment off to the side. It earns you a jab from Natasha, silently asking you to play nice.

He greets Natasha and easily lets her slip past him into the house. You call out her name, appalled that she left you alone with Bucky. Wasn’t that some rule? Never leave your friends alone at a Frat party.

“You look beautiful,” Bucky says sincerely when it’s just the two of you, to which you don’t respond, but roll your eyes. You didn’t come here to get seduced or hit on, but nonetheless shiver, and logically you could blame it on the cold weather and not the way that comment from him made you feel, then attempt to get inside the warm house.

"Excuse me,” he says, holding out his arms on either side of the door frames, blocking your entrance both ways, “where is my Christmas kiss?“ he asks, leaning in close to you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask incredulously and back away. You owed him no such thing, but when you see the sly smirk on his lips, and his head signal for you to look up, you discover a traditional mistletoe hanging right above your heads.

Bringing your head back to its regular position, you look him dead in the eyes, “I’m not going to kiss you under the mistletoe, Barnes,” you scoff at his attempt to smooch you.

“Why not?” He presses, shuffling his weight from one leg onto the other, and before you can even give him an answer, you both hear your name being shouted from behind him. Bucky whips his head back and you do your best to look over his shoulder.

It came from your friend Wanda, who was excitedly waving you over to her. You smile and wave back at her, internally grateful that luck was on your side at this moment. Bucky turns back around and stares at you, wondering how to pick back up on your conversation, but when he doesn’t come up with anything, he sighs defeatedly, drops his arms and finally lets you in.

You make your way over to Wanda engulfing her with a huge hug. Natasha was close by, sipping on her drink. You’ll grill her later for leaving you alone with Bucky. She knew not to do that, but she did it at every chance she got. Now, you knew why she brought you to this specific house party.

“You weren’t planning on leaving without a proper farewell, were you?” Wanda asked worriedly. You immediately pieced together that Natasha had ratted you out on your attempt to leave campus and head back home early.

“It’s not forever, Wan,” you assure her. It was literally only for a few weeks, but while everyone would probably only be a few hours away from each other or a few states apart different, Wanda would be flying back to her home country to spend the Holidays with her family. You’ll admit, you could’ve been a little more considerate and sensitive.

“I’ll still miss you,” she says, the admission melting your heart, not even thinking about how the separation would be on others.

“She’s right, it’s not forever,” Natasha interjects, not allowing for any sad vibes on your last few hours of the semester together, “let’s make some memories tonight,” she says before handing you a drink.

Bucky, as hard as he tried to cover it up, rejoins his group of friends, Steve and Sam, sulking. He’d gotten you alone again, but failed, and he vowed to never give up. He had a crush on you, simple as that, but you were playing hard to get, and all this time spent on playing cat and mouse when you could be doing other things.

“Man, just save yourself from any further embarrassment and give up,” Sam tells him while also handing him a drink of his own, which Bucky accepts and quickly takes a swig from.

“Never,” he said, determined and slightly winces at the burn in his throat, his body almost warming in an instant, “I’m gonna get my Holiday kiss.”

“Why do you even care? You’re usually not one behind this Holiday shit,” he asks, looking around the crowded room.

“I’m not, but it gives me a reason to get close to her,” Bucky admits pathetically, staring into the red solo cup before taking the last swig, crushing it in his hand and air balling it to the trash.

“Dude!” Steve chastises him about adding onto the mess they’d have to clean afterwards, to which Bucky shrugs at.

“You can’t expect her to just kiss anyone under the mistletoe,” Steve reminds him. He knew it wasn't an easy conquest for any guy to gain your affection.

“I’ve been a good boy this year, alright, I’m gonna get her to see what she’s been looking for has been in front of her this whole time,” Bucky says trying not to sound or look as predatory as he watched you disappear into the kitchen with your friends.

You suppose the saying rules were meant to be broken, were taken a bit too literal by your friends, even college party rules because you’re left alone again. Wanda had abandoned the trio for some alone time with her boyfriend, who everyone dubbed Vision or Vis for short due to how outrageously innovative he was. Natasha decided to partake in a classic game of beer pong, something you incredibly sucked at, so there was no way she was going to recruit you as her partner nor were you interested in standing there awkwardly watching the game go on.

Surprisingly, the only place that seemed to be of a quiet enough spot to think was the backyard patio. You could see there was a fire lit and some other students scattered or sprawled on the grass. Quickening your pace, you manage to claim a vacant lawn chair next to the fire and hope you’d stay warm and at peace.

There you start to think that being in attendance tonight would’ve made no difference. Natasha was just good at persuading you into things. Call it peer pressure or whatever, but you put your faith and trust in her to not believe she’d ever steer you in the wrong direction, so why were you so bothered being here?

“You know, refusing to kiss someone under the mistletoe is bad luck,” you hear the voice of the reason why.

“I don’t believe in that bullshit,” you respond, watching as he plops down on the empty seat next to you.

“Really? Then why haven’t you been out on a date in so long?” he asks tauntingly.

“How would you know?” You ask a bit offended.

Why was he so concerned about your love life? You were never close with Bucky growing up and if anyone was of an impression you were, it was only because of Steve, who welcomed everyone, and that included you when you moved into the neighborhood when you were a little girl.

All throughout elementary school, until things started developing, puberty probably, it further separated you from Bucky. Steve blossomed a little later in life, so it helped solidify a good friendship with him, the same couldn’t be said for Bucky. You didn’t hate him, just got annoyed by his harmless teasing.

“I’ll have you know I have other priorities,” your attempt at an excuse was subtle, but you didn’t owe him an explanation anyways.

“Sure,” he says in a tone that suggests he didn’t believe you.

You watch as he lights up a cigarette, takes a small drag, and the cloud of smoke puffing out from his lips. He notices your stare and digs into his coat pocket, fishing out the pack before offering you one. You accept and pluck one out of the carton, he follows up with sticking out his lighter and you lean in closer to him to place the end of your stick against the flame.

You weren’t going to deny the relieving effect the nicotine had running through your body. College was stressful and while you weren’t one to abuse substances, a hit every now and then helped calm your nerves.

“So why is it you won’t kiss anyone under the mistletoe?” He asks, leaning back on the plastic chair, his head turning to the side, full attention on you.

He was enchanted by the girl, who grew up into a beautiful young woman, sitting next to him, slowly killing herself with every inhale and exhale of the cigarette between her lips, but you weren’t just attractive to Bucky, you were every bit incredible to him. You were smart, helpful, loyal to your friends and he was just misguided sometimes in life that led you to astray from him.

“It’s just an excuse for guys to steal a kiss from some poor girl...for lonely people to fake love,” you said almost bitterly.

Truth was, you had a bitter experience with a guy who’d led you on in high school after accidentally hearing that he could bet his friends he could get you to make out with him and he’d do so by using a mistletoe as a ruse.

Bucky detected some distaste in your response but decides not to interrogate you on it any further. There’d been a lot of growing up between the two of you since you’d both been estranged during your teenage years, and certain life events were missed on either party. So, where did you both stand in each other's lives now? You weren’t sure if you could call each other friends. It wasn’t easy to avoid Bucky, what with all the mutual friends and classes you shared, including the same street back home.

“I didn’t throw this party just to see everyone before they leave or to celebrate the end of finals,” he reveals, after several, somber minutes of silence, the cigarettes in your hands quickly burning out.

“Then why did you?” You ask curiously, meeting his gaze.

“To see you,” he simply admits. It was vague.

“How’d you even know I’d show up?” You quiz him.

“Because I begged Natasha to convince you,” he freely says, exposing his plan.

You were a smart person, but you couldn’t figure Bucky out. Why would he do that? Or for that matter, say something like that. What was his endgame here?

“Tis the fuckin’ season,” you comment offhand, getting up from the seat to leave. You stomp out your cigarette and prepare to head back inside and bid your farewells.

You’re just about to step through the threshold, when you feel a large hand wrap around your arm, halting you in place in the middle of the sliding screen door.

“Am I really that bad?” He inquires, and you know he’s not asking about just kissing him under the mistletoe anymore. Bucky always wore his heart on his sleeve, no matter how tough he appeared to be. It fooled a lot of people, sometimes you included, but in this moment, he seemed to genuinely be concerned about your perspective about him.

You were too grown to blame how the course of your relationship with Bucky had gone south on silly teenage phases. You knew it was much deeper than that, it was how sad it made you feel.

You’d harbored a small crush on him back then and it was cruel to see him grow into a handsome, charming guy and go out with other girls. He never showed an interest in you in the past and it was getting exhausting trying to get his attention, it was proving to be a distraction in your life, so it was then you’d vowed to focus on yourself and the life ahead of you, a life that didn’t revolve or involve Bucky.

However, a part of you, the risky and impulsive part of you, said you had less than a handful of months left before you were set to walk the stage and graduate. If you did what you were about to do, you could avoid Bucky for just one more semester, then you’d move far, far away and most likely never see him again. With a quick glance up, you give in to the idea of this side of you, lean in and plant your lips on Bucky’s soft ones.

Bucky is left dumbfounded, eyes still half closed when you pull away. He was shocked, caught off guard, and you by a totally different notion. You like him, you’ve always liked him.

It was a decent kiss if anyone would’ve caught it, at least you hoped it appeared it was, and that Bucky could convince you of it being so…

“You said kissing under the mistletoe is for lonely people to fake love...so then why do I feel so alive?” he asks you in a daze.

He doesn't succeed in convincing you.

How you’d both managed to move past that scene at the doorway without raising suspicion was beyond you two. The fact you both found a vacant room was an even more impressive feat at the moment.

“You better have locked that door,” you say, attempting to make it sound like a threat, but with you underneath him, you were anything but.

Shoes scattered along the pathway to the bed, his thick jacket following in suit. You’d managed to pull your lips back from his, but he couldn’t keep his off of yours as they trailed from the corner of your lips, along your jawline and down your neck. You feel his tongue drag just along your pulse, causing your hips to thrust up. You let out a moan at what you felt through his jeans and how he started sucking and nibbling over the spot he’d licked.

“Why? Don’t want everyone finding out how naughty you actually are?” He questions back teasingly with a cocky grin, and as he tugs at the sleeves of his unbuttoned shirt.

You don’t have a comeback for him, but instead you lightly shove him back and try to escape from underneath, hoping to get through to him and show you’re in fact serious. The last thing you wanted was for any of your friends to walk in on you two in the act.

“Relax!” He says, also sitting up and reaching out and pulling you back to him, “I locked it,” he assures, leaning in closer, “not even Santa will know what we’re doing,” then his lips reclaim yours, his tongue delving in your mouth. You’re once more on your back, lips locked and heavy. Had you known kissing Bucky was this good, you’d have kissed him earlier.

Bucky’s hands run up your thighs, snake their way underneath, you feel his fingers ghost over your scantily clad pussy. The tingling sensation causes the feeling in the pit of your stomach to brew.

“You want me to touch you?” He asks huskily while still pecking your lips.

“Yes,” you almost immediately answer, desperate for his touch.

“How bad?” Oh, he knows how bad, but he had so much fun watching you crumble.

“Bucky,” you start to whine.

“Tell me...how bad do you want me to touch you,” he repeats slowly.

“Fuck you,” you bite back. He was really going to make you say it, “I want you to touch me so bad...please, Bucky,” you quickly give in.

Bucky rewards you with a deep kiss as you feel him hook a finger on the thin slit of your panties and pull them to the side. He runs a long finger between your folds, and he pulls his lips away to inhale sharply.

“You’re so wet,” he states the obvious, bringing that same hand up to his lips to lick the pad of his thumb so he could start rubbing circles on your clit. You bite your lip and stare at him, he’s watching you carefully, loving how hard you’re trying to hold back.

“You want to be a good girl?” He asks, and you nod, “then don’t hold back. Stop fighting me, and I’ll make you come hard with just my fingers,” he bargains. You want to call him on his bluff, but he’s the one with the upper hand - literally. “But first…,” he starts, sitting up on his knees, hands back at his sides so he could scoot down lower on the bed, “...I want to taste this pussy,” his voice deep, and almost dangerous.

He pushes the end of your dress up, bunching it at the waist, to reveal your cute underwear. He pauses for a split second, “Holiyay indeed” he says to himself, reading the embezzled design on the front of your thong. You don’t even roll your eyes in annoyance anymore, because maybe if you kept quiet and submissive enough, you’ll finally get to come.

When he rids you of the garment, Bucky uses his fingers to spread your wet lips before running his tongue flat against it, only narrowing out when it reaches your clit. He spends a little more time at your there, circling it with his tongue, lightly kissing and sucking at it. His fingers start rubbing you, tracing the rim of the opening, while his mouth was still busy at work.

You're all but writhing from the buildup, your chest heaving up and down, stomach clenching tight from his doing, not prepared for when he inserts a finger inside your wet hole. You audibly gasped and reached a hand towards him, but he swats it away. You dare pick your head up to watch, and you’re met with his eyes, full of lust, looking up at you, but his mouth still latched onto your pussy. You can feel his finger slide in and out of you slowly, your mouth open displaying how good he’s making you feel.

In fact, it’s too good you’re not in control of your legs anymore as they kick and squirm at the feeling he’s bestowing on you, so he removes his finger away from you only to maneuver into a position where he could hook his arms under legs and basically slam your back down on the bed. You unconsciously start chanting his name, like a silent prayer for him to touch you down there again.

Your head is a little fuzzy, body on fire; you want to burst. Unable to pick up your head, you cast your eyes down on him just in time to see him spit on your already soaking cunt. You watch as he uses his fingers to spread the wetness all over before slipping two fingers inside of you.

The intrusion causes you to groan and back to arch, and you can’t help but grab at any part of the arm that his hand going to work on you, just making sure it doesn't go away until it gets the job done. He chuckles lightly at your eagerness with your hips bucking up at his palm.

“I promised I’d let you come, right?” He points out, which you nod fervently, loosen your grip and attempt to keep your hips at bay, so he could fulfill his promise. You feel his finger push in about knuckle-deep and curl inside, causing you to choke out a dry sob. You begin to bite your lip, hard, when he does it again and again.  

Your hands are on autopilot, trying to heighten the pleasure your body was being coursed with, and they grab handfuls of your breasts, still confined in your dress. You squeeze and squish them together, anything to help you find that release sooner. Bucky’s gaze catches onto your moves and licks at his lips, the sight of your breasts threatening to spill out offers him a taste of what’s still yet to be unwrapped.

He speeds up his efforts, they’re proven efficient as you start clenching tight around his fingers, your arousal also coating the palm of his hand. He whispers tiny praises as you try to recover from the first orgasm. You swallow the lump in your throat and run your hands over your face, almost dazed and bewildered that Bucky was capable of pulling something like that out of you.  

Your legs fall limp on the bed, the silence broken by Bucky, “such a sweet pussy,” he compliments, and you take a peek between your fingers to see his fingers pop out of his mouth from sucking his digits clean.

“Do you want to unwrap your gift?” He asks, crawling over to you. You manage to sit up, your body supported by your propped elbows, so Bucky is slightly hovering over you. You nod at his question and he brings one hand behind your head to swoop you in for a sweet kiss. You use both hands to hold his face in place to make the kiss last just a little longer.

Bucky reluctantly pulls away though so he could grab at the bunched fabric of your dress and pull it over your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him. He swears, eyes running over every part of you before sitting upright on his knees again.

You lean in and reach with both hands to unbuckle his belt, the clinking of metal sounding loud, button popping off in haste, and dragging the zipper down. You yank down at his fitted jeans to reveal the imprint of his hard cock under his boxer briefs. Fuck, he was big, that much you could see. You couldn’t keep your grabby hands away as you palm him through the fabric, his cock twitching at the indirect contact.

“Take it out,” he instructs, and you look up perilously at him, eyes begging him to confirm, “...it’s yours, baby girl,” and it was all the assurance you needed to peel his boxers down.

You wrap your hands around his length and start pumping him languidly. He was already hard and no doubt fully erect, but you immediately found how good it felt in your hands. With every pump, his pre-cum pools at the head, and with each trip your hands make up to the tip, they travel back down with the substance, effectively lathering him up and making him slick enough for an easy entry.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” he admits when you give his member an experimental squeeze, your fingers curl around him, the tips grazing along his balls.

Leaning in to place light kisses to his pecs, you look up at him, “well, you’ve been a good boy, so do it,” you say, hands retreating as you lie back down, “...fuck me, Bucky.”

Bucky lets out a low growl, kicks his bottoms away, and climbs back on top of you. He reaches down to grab his cock and starts running it up and down the length of your sex, causing your body to shudder. You could feel the ridges and just how hard he got before he slowly slid his cock inside. There’s a tiny sting on his entrance as his thick cock stretches your walls.

“Mmm, baby, it’s cold outside,” he starts playfully singing, “...but you, you’re so warm,” kissing your cheek, getting you to relax; not realizing you had held your breath trying to bear through the initial pain, “...and so wet,” he says pulling out with a lewd noise, before thrusting all the way back in, bottoming out.  

He starts off sweet and slow, and while you liked that on some occasion, now wasn’t one of them. Bucky’s cock probed at your spot almost instantly and you found out you didn’t want to prolong the euphoric ending. His hands slip around your smaller frame, pulling your body up, closer to his, while his hips moved in waves crashing harder and harder into yours.

His face buried into the mattress next to your face, you hear his breathy moans, and you love that he doesn’t hold them back the slightest. Who didn’t like to hear how good the other person was making them feel, right? You grip and pull at his hair, while the other gabs at his buttocks, feeling it flex with each snap of his hips, and your legs tangled with his. Sweat that had built up on your bodies make the movements sloppy, muscles beginning to ache, both of you were about to peak.

“God, you feel so good,” he says, picking his head up, his hair matted and messy, he still looked sexy, “...you gonna come all over my cock now?” His words fuel you and your hips start driving into his, making him eat his own words, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Yes, Bucky,” you coo, your hands gripping his sides, loving the feeling of his hard body, slick and warm to the touch, “...come,” you try coaxing him, but one particular thrust rips right through you and your walls start clenching him tighter than the fit.

You only finish the command when you’re riding the waves of the aftershock, “come on, Bucky, I want it...inside, please.” You definitely picked up on the fact that he liked to hear you beg and be specific with your wants.

Bucky soon stills, spurts of his hot cum splatter your walls that continue to flutter around his cock. His climax spreads warmth all over your lower body. Your limbs, both arms and legs, wrap around his exhausted body. He carefully drops his bodyweight on you, mindful of not suffocating you in the process.

When he’s regained regular breathing, using one of his hands, he reaches behind him in search of yours before interlocking your fingers and just holding it, you hold onto each other. Bucky picks up his head and stares at your hand in his, you follow his gaze and join him. They fit with one another perfectly, and even so, the light squeeze he gives it, lets you know it also felt right.

“Well, where have you two been?” Sam says loudly, announcing you and Bucky’s arrival, rejoining your group of friends. Wanda and Vision close to each other, his arm around her frame, Natasha standing in between Sam and Steve, a refilled cup in each of their hands.

“I have been trying to escape this crazed man all night,” you playfully exaggerate.

“And yet you’ve managed to keep failing,” Bucky chimes in smugly, a cute smirk running across his features. This unearthed feeling testing your willpower to keep up with appearance and show resistance.

“Yeah, no thanks to my so-called friends,” pinning the blame on the two females in the room. Wanda turns red, guilty and slightly awful for abandoning you, but Natasha has a different reaction. She’s got that knowing smile on her face. It’s small, but very strong.

You watch as her eyes divert to the ceiling, you follow her gaze and then when you both look back at each other, the smile on her face turns into a full-blown smirk. There’s a collective sound of “oh’s” from everyone, noting the mistletoe above you and Bucky.

Turning to Bucky, who looks like he doesn’t know what to do, just stands there staring at you, not knowing what to expect. You’re supposed to act like nothing happened or reveal anything to your friends just yet, so he mentally prepares for a rebuttal to your impending rejection or insult to kiss him. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what you do instead.

You place a hand on the back of his neck and pull him down to you and smash your lips together. Bucky’s hands immediately grab a hold of your hips, he’d have to get used to the lightheaded feeling when he’s close to you.

The kiss is slow and probably not appropriate to be deemed as a simple traditional mistletoe kiss, but you both can’t help it and continue to allow your lips to slide against one another’s before there’s a rise of cheers, whistling and howls around you, shattering the bubble.

When you pull apart, you reluctantly walk away from Bucky and head to where Natasha stood, steal the cup from her hand and finish off the remainder of her drink, all while staring straight at her. She knew. Only when you’re done with the last sip, you give her the same small, sly smile. There are no words exchanged, and none needed.

“Guess, you have been a good boy this year, Barnes,” Sam jokes, but regardless is proud of his friend.

“Third time's the charm,” Bucky says casually, shrugging like it was no big deal, as if he hadn’t been desperately chasing you all night. You shake your head at his silliness, but nonetheless smile at him, your heart skipping a bit.

Who knew what you’d been looking for was hanging underneath the doorway staring at you face-to-face this whole time?

A/N: I can confidently say, I used one of these Christmas puns as a pickup line on a guy recently and it worked in my favor! Shoot your shot but stay safe in more than one way; these are them trying times. Also, the underwear thing is a real design I saw while looking through Victoria’s Secret sales…lol. 

🎁 Gift me a like, reblog, comment - anything, please! 🥺💖

[qsphyxias]

𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖐𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; you took a reckless bullet for your ever so beloved detective/partner, and shuichi isn't too happy about it. understatement ; he was fucking devastated

warnings ; hospitals, gun violence, getting shot, inaccurate depictions of police and police negotiations, cussing, major angst, male! reader uses he/him pronouns

note ; the first one-shot of this blog, everybody dance ( the imagine isn’t based on the song, but i just thought it had the same vibe ig )

words ; 4k

⊱ ────── {⋅.𝐢𝐝𝐟𝐜 - 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫.⋅} ────── ⊰

ring, ring.

...

ring, ring.

what's that noise?

ring, ring.

why won't it stop?

ring, rin-

"hello?" gratuity washed over your body, the feeling causing you to relax as the obnoxious noise had been replaced by the gentle tone of the one you love. suddenly you didn't feel as bitter as you did before; when you had first awoken from your slumber. "ah... yes, this is... detective shuichi saihara."

your head shifted towards the sound of shuichi's voice, eyes flickering to him and back to the small dot on the ceiling you had first caught sight of.

shuichi darted his eyes over to your turned back, hands cupping the phone as he tried to muffle the authoritative tone your shared boss had been emitting. "... but he's still recovering. no, i don't think that that's-" the anxious detective's voice grew a little louder out of panic, causing him to immediately lower it back down to a whisper as his mind reminded him that you were still sleeping — or so he thought. "just... at least give him one more day. please. i'll take all his work for that day."

you blinked, brain whirling as you tried to process the information that seemed to be dripping from shuichi's lips. who's he talking about? you groaned quietly, feeling as if an anvil and a hammer had been clanging obnoxiously at your head.

shuichi whipped his head towards you, sad eyes widening as he had caught your groan, however soft it was. "s/o?" nearly dropping the phone, he tightened his grip and spoke into the receiver again, quickly wanting to end the call so he could go check on you. "oh- um, th- thank you so much, yes- okay, thank you again." without hearing his boss's reply, he abruptly ended the call and kept in mind he would have to hear the scolding later — however, it wasn't like he really cared at all in that moment.

"sh-?" you paused, shuffling to sit up from your waxy, cotton hospital bedsheets as you finally decided to announce your consciousness. fuck, how did the rest of his name go? come on brain! he just said it!

shuichi had been repeating and reversing what he had wanted to say to you the moment he saw you shuffle up and groan, as well as what you needed to hear. his head was sure to detonate, each second that passed by brought him closer to his limit.

despite shuichi's selfish desire to hear your lips say his name again, he held his greedy urges back ; he needed to talk to you first. "no, you ...you don't have to talk. actually i... need to talk to you first." that's right, shuichi. stay calm, don't scare him, he's still recovering.

you furrowed your brows at him, feeling yourself slightly perspire at his serious tone ; he was usually a pretty calm, serious guy, so you weren't sure why you had been so nervous. this was quite common, however, talks like this happened a lot at his demand ; he believed communication was key — and since then you were always at his mercy with his sweet and honest sentiments.

however cringe-worthy they may have seemed, he never failed to make you flush from his honesty ; though the embarrassment he caused you had been nothing but unintentional, or at least...you believed it to be.

laughing nervously, you opened your mouth to say a stupid joke to lighten up the mood, but the throbbing feeling of your shoulder being detached, reattached, pulled, strained, and yanked stopped you from doing...well, practically anything. wincing, you gripped your wound instinctively.

"s/o! i- i said not to talk...!" the sudden, yet the revolting sound of his chair scraping against the floor hit your ears, but shuichi's hands cradling your face distracted you from the gross sound. "s- shuichi?" his touch acted as a brain restarted, as your pupils suddenly dilated ; memories of yesterday coming back to you and hitting you like that bullet you took for him.

that bullet you took for him...

"i- i did it out of love! just- just let me go! i can't go to jail! i just fucking can't!" with blurred and fuzzed vision, there stood the perp, a small pistol held improperly in his quivering hands as he spewed out excuses and nonsense.

"listen, it's going to be okay...! just put down the gun, and i promise, we'll try and work this out ; i'll talk to the judge about your prison time, just...trust me, okay?" right...you remember now. you could remember so vividly how beautiful he looked, even as he was practically sweating out of his fancy turtleneck, he still somehow was able to keep a calm attitude.

he was...he was such a nice guy. well, that was an understatement.

despite his amazingly calm and reserved speech, the perp remained unconvinced, yet also unsure of what he was supposed to do. that much was obvious when he kept darting his eyes all over the room indecisively picking one spot to focus on.

as you held your gun firmly and pointed in your hands, you flickered your eyes back onto the perp, despite wanting to stare at the detective for hours ; you had a job to do.

you sidestepped towards the detective that had kept his golden eyes glued onto the perp carefully, leaning your head into his side as you whispered something into his ear, "you know you can't actually do that, right?" you could see his adam's apple bob in response.

"i'll... i'll figure something out." shuichi adjusted his grip on the gun he held, eyebrows furrowed in such a breathtaking way. you could feel your knees buckle.

"what are you guys- what are you guys talking about, huh? talking about- how-how i'm such a pathetic piece of shit!? huh?!" you threw your head back to the shaking, wary man, gun tightening in your grip. "we weren't. just take his offer, it's the best thing you can do." your tone had been firmer than shuichi's, not as kind, but hey ; that was your whole dynamic.

"we really weren't." shuichi agreed, sincerity was written all over his face. a small part of you felt envious of his stare.

"stop-stop lying to me!" the perp's frantic switching of his gunpoint, seemed to halt to a stop as he directed it at shuichi ; causing an unwanted panic to rise up in the both of you, but mostly you.

"hey, you seem pretty nervous there. say, when was the last time you had any contact with drugs or alcohol?" you questioned in a condescending tone, a smug smile adorning your face and irking the already unstable man. looking back at it now, you should've kept your mouth shut. even so, shuichi's life was in danger, and if you had to risk your life for his ; well, you'd take any chance to do that.

the perp seemed to take the bait and aimed it back at your chest, lucky or unlucky for you two. "shut up!" an unreasonable relief washed over you as shuichi had been put out of danger.

shuichi looked over at you, communicating with his eyes as if he was pleading for you to stop and let him handle it instead. however, there seemed to be an itty bitty miscommunication. your ego seemed to betray you, as you started spewing out things you probably shouldn't have been saying ; all so you could impress the very nervous and quite frankly, unhappy detective.

"cocaine? heroin-?"

shuichi glared at you, mistakenly taking his eyes off the perp for once. "s/o, what are you doing?! i have this under control...!" he suddenly barked at you, breaking his composure as he had gotten a tidbit angered that you had been interfering with the negotiation.

"shut up! shut up, shut up, just shut the f-fuck up!" a gunshot rang out.

"watch out!" without thinking, you had shoved the frozen detective away from you, even if the gun had already been pointed at you ; you had no business risking his life.

jesus, you were probably the most idiotic man known to humankind.

next thing you know, you've been knocked onto the floor, head throbbing and wheezing from blood loss as shuichi has to determine whether he should chase after the perp or stay with you.

the decision had been more than easy ; he took barely one second to decide that your life was more important. dialing back-up in one hand, he crouched down to assist you with the other. taking in one shaky but deep inhale, shuichi nervously fiddled with his radio, shaky eyes glued to you. "officer down, i repeat officer down."

"the hell are you doing, saihara...!? he's going to get away!"

"i-i can't just leave! what if you- no, i-! just...just here," he handed to you a handkerchief he held in his shaky hands. "press it onto the wound, okay? please?" he wasn't going to take no for an answer, one more beat and he would've been doing it for you.

grunting, "shuichi, i'm happy you're worried about me but you're being hella stupid right now-" you cut yourself off, grunting at feeling the strain of talking.

"w- why did you do that? i had the situation under control...!" he sounded upset, that much was clear.

"he...he aimed the gun at you and i guess i panicked, i don't- i don't know, look- just go, alright? back-up's coming for me, and you know you can't let him get away." you could feel the adrenaline from getting shot wearing off, and with it, the pain getting worse. sweat formed on your brow ; it felt like the more you breathed, the more the searing pain worsened.

you knew deep down you didn't want him to go, that you were scared you could actually die within moments, yet you hated yourself for that feeling. it was extremely selfish. it wasn't fair. you could remember the way he looked at you.

"i'm not going, that's final. we're going to... we're going to wait for back-up together, okay?" it was weird to hear him use his asserting tone when talking to you, it was weird to hear him so confident with you too ; yet you couldn't ignore the strange sense of pride you held.

suddenly out of the blue, a wave of exhaustion hit you, causing your eyelids to flicker shut. you knew you weren't supposed to sleep ; especially not when you were bleeding out from your shoulder, but you told yourself, hey, one 10-minute nap couldn't hurt, right? back-up would come anyway.

before shuichi could even stop you, you're already out like a light, and causing sudden arrhythmia to shuichi's chest. "s/o! w-wake up!" with his words echoing throughout your dream-like state, your smile only seemed to widen ; he may have been screaming at you to not leave him — but his voice still kept that same, soothing tone to it. it was like a lullaby, to a man seconds away from death.

comparing his tone and reaction from the incident to now, it had certainly been different. you wondered what had changed... maybe he was mad? understatement of the year it seemed ; he was probably pissed the fuck off. you did ruin the negotiation after all, and for what?

"you don't seem very sad that i got shot ; i knew you were a pretty stoic guy but i didn't peg you as cold-hearted." you teased, to which shuichi held a neutral face, eyebrows creasing as he stared you dead in the eye. for a second you worried if he could tell you were joking.

"... i cried for days, s/o." his voice broke, and you could feel your heartbreak piece by piece as he frowned at you.

blinking in response, you didn't seem to believe him ; why would he cry over you? your head was probably just fucking with you. promptly ignoring the blood bag hanging beside you wondered if it had been the blood loss. "you- you what?"

it took you a few minutes to process what he had said, and for good reason. days? had you been asleep that long-? wait, he was crying? over you?

sometimes you forget he has emotions from how calm he is ; you swear you've only ever seen three sides of him ; anxious shuichi, serious shuichi, and calm shuichi. along with the occasional happy shuichi when you make him laugh with your shitty jokes, but that's a secret you keep between the two of you. or more like for yourself.

"i was- i mean, of course, i was devastated- you're sp- i mean- look, why did you- what made- that w- s/o, you- ah-" he stammered over his words frustratingly, hand rising to fiddle with his hair out of habit.

you watched him sympathetically. "hey, where'd mister assertive go?" you grinned, tone playful as you essayed soothing his anxiety. "...listen, it's okay, just take your time ; i'd prefer it if you did anyway, you're probably just gonna scold me, right?"

shuichi took strange comfort in your words, golden eyes staring straight at your hospital-gown covered chest as he tried calming himself down. "y-yeah...thanks." something was unsettling about how you seemed to be smiling in a situation where you nearly got yourself killed — even so, it was refreshing to see it.

he missed it. he missed you.

you had been sleeping for two days, so it would make sense that you were refreshed and well-rested enough to be back to your regular self.

whilst you had been peacefully sleeping and recovering in the nasty smelling hospital, shuichi had been in agony. those two whole days had been hell for him. crushing guilt and his anxiety attacked his head 24/7 ; even when he knew you probably weren't going to die in your sleep, 'probably' wasn't very assuring when you were shuichi saihara.

he would fret for hours and cry in the shower about whether it was his fault or not ; despite it being so obviously your fault, he couldn't help but wonder what he could've done differently. he shouldn't have been so weak, he'd tell himself. this was a normal thing that happened as a police officer, getting shot in the line of duty, it was normal. but it... it was completely different when he knew it was you who had been taking the bullet.

his eyes widened as he felt your hand clasp upon his. "don't look so guilty, shuichi. you're breaking my heart." you pouted, apologetic eyes staring at his kicked-puppy-like eyes. "sorry, i just- i know you said you...you said you panicked when the perp aimed the gun at me ; who, um, thankfully got captured by one of our back-up team." he could hear you sigh in relief, which frankly, irked him a little.

you were still worried about that? he, himself was a workaholic but not to the point where he would sigh in relief as there was a large bullet wound inside his shoulder.

"but uh, i don't...i don't think i understand why? i mean, he- he wasn't going to shoot, i had it under control—"

"i know you did, and i trust you but...i just couldn't take any chances, you know? i'm...honestly i don't really regret much." you smiled sheepishly, hands gently fiddling with his cold hand that rested on the very end of your hospital bed.

"i mean, i get to see you worried about me." you chuckled, "it's cute, i have to admit." you forgot all about your wound at this point.

his guilty expression didn't change a bit ; eyebrows only furrowing deeper down as he eyed you questionably. "you think it's...cute? you almost got yourself killed, s/o. you know you can't be that reckless. to get yourself nearly killed just because you didn't want to take the chance of me in danger...s/o, i was terrified. when you fell asleep, i thought my heart was collapsing — you shouldn't have done that for me—" his worries spilled out of his mouth like fluid, the words coming to mind easier, and quicker at the cause of your hands being a good distraction.

"saihara." you snapped him out of it, tugging his arm further towards you. "don't cry, okay? i'm okay. if it makes you feel better, i'll...try not to do that again. please, just..." you swiped your thumb at his face, flushing as he instinctually leaned into your hand.

shuichi sniffed in response, hands coming up to wipe his own face as soon as he realized he was, indeed crying. "...i'm sorry."

"i know i'm too reckless for my own good, but i just didn't want for you to get hurt. you're...you mean so much to me. more than you could ever know." you confessed, eyes averting as you tried to avoid his reaction.

"um, i don't know what i'm saying — maybe it's the painkillers? they put in the right blood type for me, righ-?" you took your hand away from his and to the back of your cold neck.

"i made sure they had the right one — but um, what did you mean by that? just earlier?" shuichi stared up at you, pouting as you only seemed to look away from his detecting stare.

you knew one look in your eyes would show everything you felt for him ; and you weren't sure if he even wanted to see that emotion. so you settled for a temporary solution.

"um, is- is that a bee outside? i like bees, though they are going instinct — haha, the human race is fucked-"

"s/o, why are you avoiding the question?" he dealt with many guilty perps, thus knowing when someone was guilty ; and that right now, had been you.

you grunted underneath his stare, sinking further down into your sheets as you sighed defeatedly. it's not like you could hide from a detective for long. "i- uh, i just meant like," your confidence seemed to deter ; and for a second shuichi almost felt bad. almost.

his job as a detective meant he wouldn't stop until he got answers ; and that applied to his daily life as well, his daily life that included so much of you.

damn him and his adorable crying. "i think i...since the gun thing, and i don't know if this will comfort you in anyway but this has been seriously e-eating at my brain and i finally know- i finally know what this feeling is. i feel kind of dumb for not knowing earlier ; i mean, was my career as a detective nothing?" you gazed at him from underneath the 'comfort' of your uncomfortable paper-thin sheets.

"getting off-track, i just meant that i-i think that i really really like you." your voice had been slightly muffled by the sheets, but shuichi heard you clearly nonetheless. he made sure he did.

"you- me? r- romantically?" he flushed bright red as you nodded in confirmation.

you hoped he was as embarrassed as you were because you felt like you would dissolve into the sheets from the pure humiliation if he wasn't. "youdon'thavetosayanything,ijustthoughti'dletyoukno-"

"n-no, that's not it! i- i like you too! i...haha, to be honest, i thought this would go differently." he chuckled, scratching his cheek awkwardly as he eyes your shoulder wound.

jerking up, you briefly ignored the searing pain in your shoulder as you leaned way too close to him for comfort, a look of pure devastation and worry on your face. "you already knew?"

he couldn't help but think your worried pout was nothing but adorable, unsuccessfully stifling a goofy smile. "no, i..." honestly he kind of did already know, but he never thought it was something possible ; thus clouding his judgment.

"i planned to confess, actually...i was planning to-to talk to you about it during one of our-"

you made an 'o' shape with your mouth, a thoughtful look in your eyes as you nodded understandingly. "-talks, of course."

huffing quietly, he sent you a worried look. "what, are they bad? communication is key, you know-" his informative, but light-hearted scolding had been cut off as you reached to tussle with his hair, erupting a hiccup out of him.

"they're not bad ; you're just...you're a real saint."

"a-ah, i wouldn't say that..." you laughed at his nervous reaction, retracting your hand to his dismay.

"that's what a saint would say." he pouted at your teasing tone, grabbing your arm gently with his hand as he kept in mind your disability.

you cut him off as he opened his mouth, seemingly about to defend himself. "don't worry too much about it ; i actually sometimes like our talks...though i spend most of my time staring at you as you talk, it's still pretty fun." oops.

"s-s/o..." he squeaked, looking at you pleadingly for a reason you hadn't been aware of yet.

"what? i didn't say anything wrong, did i?" blinking at him, you tilted your head.

"n-no, but- um." he wasn't sure how to tell you how much he wanted to kiss you right now. those talks proved to be nothing but useless as he couldn't find the words he desperately wanted to speak.

it was only then had you noticed he had leaned half his body over you, nearly climbing into the hospital bed with you. the sudden realization caused you to widen your eyes, as you awkwardly hovered your hands in the air. it was like your body had been telling you to touch him, cradle his head but you didn't know how, or where.

the awkwardness had caused a small, nervous chuckle to erupt from your throat ; prompting shuichi's worried glances. were you laughing at him?

you felt him shrink away, and out of panic, you let your heart act before your brain could. your hands cupped his face, a quiet clapping noise echoing throughout the white hospital room walls and only seeming to make everything more strange than it had been.

shuichi held a shocked expression on his face, as you had practically been melting from how much you were sweating. fuck, did i mess this up?

no words had been exchanged, both of you, too bewildered and too nervous to say or do anything — the situation grew so bizarre that it literally left them speechless. with both pairs of eyes glued onto the others, neither of you moved — no matter how sore shuichi's arms had been getting from holding himself up not to crush you, and how with each agonizing second, you weren't sure whether or not to tighten your grip on his jaw.

"a-are you going to kiss me? or just stand there?"

"i-i can do that? really?" shuichi watched you closely for confirmation ; and you swore you felt him lean in closer to you — not that you were complaining. in any way. whatsoever.

"um, y-yeah. i-i consent, ha— mmf-!" shuichi hadn't bothered to hide his eagerness, lips already pressing and moving against yours like it was instinct, like it was something he had been waiting for for years.

your fingers ultimately tightened around his jaw, and you made the move to bring him further down onto you — to which wasn't a very good choice.

"w-wah! s/o, w-wait a second!" he muffled through your lips, golden eyes revealing themselves as he lifted his eyelids in a panic as you started pulling him down to you. he was unreasonably afraid of accidentally putting you in more pain ; but the electrifying feeling you had felt from his lips on yours had had the same cause and feeling as 10 million painkillers — you felt like you were in cloud 9 with a million tiny shuichi angels swimming and flying around you.

you promptly ignored him, craving more as you used one of your arms to hug him close to you — the position probably looked like you were trying to strangle him, but your lips on his said otherwise.

you two probably spent 30 minutes making out in your assigned hospital bed, but hey, it's not like anyone was waiting.

...i mean, just ignore the nurse awkwardly standing at the doorway and you're fine.

⊱───── ❝ thank you for reading! ❞ ─────⊰

[saintobio]

WAIT WAIT SO MANY EMOTIONS OMGMGMGMGMGM OKAY SO FIRST OF ALL THIS;

OMGMGMGMGM I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!! im so touch deprived i literally screamed. i have to read a toji fanfic where he takes care of y/n bc her husband treats her like shit. i have to. this was so intense to me. can he kiss y/n again?? this time on the lips? and then maybe the lower lips?? KSPSPSPAS im truly in love with toji. crazy how i got more excited over him kissing y/n’s cheeks than satoru kissing y/n.. i think its bc i know that he’s still with sera and has the audacity to still refer to her as his lover… fucking pathetic.

FLIRT MORE PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU!! every time he touched y/n i had an orgasm bye. how can he be so fucking attractive?? im in love with that man.

wait until sera learns about this😹😹😹 she gonna be even more broken which is everything i want.

that sounds very familiar… doesnt it satoru?? ai can your beautiful self please explain to me how this mf doesn’t see that’s literally him and sera?? how can a person be so blind for fuck’s sake. even geto mentioned it.

THE AUDACITY OF THIS WRENCH! how can she also say something about y/n when she is the mistress?!! wtfff?!!!!!? when i saw this my head started hurting. what a fucking bitch bro. the audacity.. THE AUDACITY!! ima take this as a racist offense since im a poc and an immigrant. i hate that bitch so much. she triggers me. like the fucking audacity bro. im honestly speechless ai. the audacity of these mfs to get upset.

“the wrong idea” now now y/n… lets be honest sweetie… you know you wanna fuck that masterpiece of a man.. just a one nightstand. he’s the one she should be calling daddy😩😩 he’s such a dilf. so fucking fine.

ATTENTION SEEKER ALERT‼️ATTENTION SEEKER‼️ATTENTION SEEKER‼️

i just know she did that shit on purpose bro. she’s everything bad she claims y/n is😹 i cant believe satoru still has the fucking audacity to tell y/n he wants her and still go after the mistress bro. he never did that with y/n.. not even when she was the one crying her heart out (quite literally). this is why i dont get excited over satoru anymore. until i see him putting y/n first place as she should be, i dont even wanna see him. every time he takes a step forward, he takes three back and im real tired of it.

sorry for the long rant but this episode was so beautiful. im so happy to see y/n sticking up for herself and seeing toji is such a joy.. damn i truly love that mf bye. but something i asked before and wanted to ask again is if sera’s dad is the abusive alcoholic type? he doesn’t give me those vibes but i wonder since she seems to despise him so much.

GAHAHSH I LIKE THAT U HAD SCREENSHOTS !! thank u sm for reading and sending ur thoughts abt the last chapter <33 hope you’ll enjoy the next one too :)