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ch0llies · 16 days ago

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EARNED IT | MATTHEW STURNIOLO. PT.5

pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.3 - pt.4

brothersbestfriend!matt x innocent!reader

You're an 18-year-old high school senior, the innocent little sister of Matt's best friend. Which means off-limits in every way. But 22-year-old college hockey player, Matt can't ignore the way you cling to him, asking dangerous questions with trusting eyes. You don't understand the fire you're playing with- but Matt does. And he's burning to teach you what happens when you get too close.

story warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap) p in v, virginity loss, squirting, creampie, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, corruption kink (if u squint), brothers best friend, getting caught, pet names (sweetheart, angel, my love), age gap (four years), etc. all characters are of age. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 6k

ib: @ariestrxsh’s young god

“You’ve earned it now for sure, sweetheart. You ready?”

His words send a sharp thrill down your spine, heat pooling low in your stomach at the sheer possession in his tone. His fingers curl under your chin, tilting your face up further, forcing you to hold his gaze. His blue eyes are still dark, still hazy, but there’s something new simmering beneath the surface now- something wicked, something insatiable.

“Did you like that, angel?” His voice is rough, still laced with the remnants of his pleasure, but now there’s an edge to it- low and dangerous, laced with the promise of something more.

You don’t answer, but the way your breath hitches, the way your thighs press together instinctively, tells him everything he needs to know.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips as his grip shifts, fingers ghosting along your jaw before trailing lower, his knuckles grazing the rapid pulse at your throat. His touch is featherlight, teasing, as if testing just how much you can take.

“You’ve were so good for me,” he murmurs, his thumb swiping across your lower lip, pressing just enough to part your lips slightly. “I think it’s time I take care of you again, yeah?”

The anticipation coils tight in your stomach as he leans forward, his breath hot against your skin. His free hand slides down, fingertips skimming your arm before tracing over your waist, your hips, until he’s gripping you firmly, pulling you closer.

“You want that, don’t you, sweetheart?” he purrs, his lips brushing just below your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

Your body betrays you before you can even answer- your fingers gripping onto his thighs, your breath coming out in a shaky exhale.

Matt chuckles, low and knowing, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“That’s what I thought.”

His hands tighten, his grip firm and unyielding as he pulls you onto his lap in one swift motion, your knees bracketing his hips, your hands landing against his chest. His skin is still warm, his dick hard beneath your slick heat.

The way his gaze drags over you- slow, possessive, like he’s already imagining all the ways he’s about to ruin you makes your stomach flip.

His hands slide down, gripping your hips, holding you there like he’s savoring the moment, like he’s memorizing the way you feel against him.

“You’re shaking,” he notes, voice dark with amusement. “What’s the matter, angel? Too much?”

You shake your head, but he tuts, tilting his head.

“No? Then why don’t you show me just how much you can take?”

The challenge hangs between you, thick with heat, and before you can second-guess yourself, your fingers dig into his shoulders, and you move- shifting against him, running your slick folds him. You don’t know why you’re doing it, but for whatever reason you had the painful urge to create friction between you and him.

Matt’s breath hisses through his teeth, his grip on your hips tightening like a warning.

“Careful, sweetheart, ” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, rough with restraint. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

You don’t understand what he’s saying and your mind is too polluted with the feeling of him hard and warm against you so you shift again, just slightly, and that’s all it takes. Matt’s patience snaps.

A low growl rumbles from his chest, and before you can react, his hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he moves.

Your gasp barely has time to escape before you’re in the air, weightless for a moment as he lifts you with ease. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, legs dangling around his waist as he carries you, his grip firm and unyielding, his movements purposeful.

Your heart pounds, breath catching in your throat as he strides across your room.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” Matt murmurs against your ear, his voice deep and wrecked, laced with something raw, something possessive.

Your body shivers in response, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him, your nerves warring with your excitement.

You feel your cool silk sheets against your back as he lays you down, his weight following immediately after, pressing you into the mattress.

His hands roam, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the feeling of you beneath him. His blue eyes are dark, hooded, filled with something almost reverent as he takes you in- every curve, every inch of skin exposed to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing a slow, teasing path down your side, his touch featherlight, making you shiver.

His lips find yours- soft at first, coaxing, but quickly turning hungry, desperate. He kisses you like he’s been starving, like he can’t get enough, his hands never still, never stopping.

“You sure about this?” he rasps against your lips, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot, uneven.

The concern in his voice tugs at something deep in your chest, and it only makes you fall harder.

You nod, biting your lip, eyes wide and full of trust as you whisper, “I want this. I want you.”

Matt groans, his hand slipping beneath your thigh, dragging it higher around his waist as his lips move to your neck, leaving a trail of slow, open-mouthed kisses.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint, his self-control hanging by a thread.

But he won’t rush. Not with you. Not when he finally has you where he’s always wanted you- completely his.

And tonight that’s exactly what you’ll be.

Matt exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours for just a second as he gathers himself, as if grounding himself in this moment. His fingers trail lightly along your side, tracing the delicate curve of your waist, his touch so careful- like he’s handling something precious.

Because to him, you are.

“You’re nervous,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, lower, laced with something almost tender. His fingertips ghost over your arm, your shoulder, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “It’s okay, my love. You don’t have to pretend you’re not.”

Your breath hitches, and you nod, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you try to steady yourself. He’s right- you are nervous. Your heart is racing, your stomach tight with anticipation, with the weight of everything this moment means. But you trust him.

“I just… I don’t know what to do,” you whisper softly, your voice a squeak. Your cheeks heat at the confession even though he already knows. It’s still embarrassing to you how inexperienced you sound, how vulnerable.

Matt groans, his hands flexing against your hips. “Fuck,” he breathes, shaking his head slightly, like he’s trying to rein himself in. “You have no idea how much that turns me on, do you?”

Your lips part, confused, and his gaze darkens, his fingers tilting your chin up.

“You’re so innocent,” he murmurs, almost to himself, like he can’t believe it, like it’s something he’s savoring. “So sweet. So fucking pure.”

His thumb brushes against your lower lip, dragging it down slightly, and his eyes flicker up to meet yours. “And you’re giving yourself to me,” he says, voice thick, reverent. “Letting me be your first.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the weight of his words, at the intensity in his gaze, like he’s memorizing every second of this, like this means just as much to him as it does to you.

“I want it to be you,” you whisper, your fingers curling around his wrist, holding onto him, grounding yourself in him. “I trust you, Matt.”

He groans again, low and wrecked, his restraint visibly unraveling at the edges. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your jaw. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

His lips trail lower, slow and deliberate, down your throat, to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. He takes his time, pressing soft, lingering kisses to every inch of exposed skin, his hands never rushing, never demanding.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he reassures you, his voice gentle but firm. “Just let me take care of you. Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”

His fingers slide down your sides, mapping out your body with reverence, learning you, memorizing you. He’s slow, patient, making sure you feel everything, making sure you have time to adjust, to breathe.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “So perfect.”

Matt hovers over you, his weight supported on his forearms as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers, his touch impossibly gentle. His blue eyes search yours, dark but soft, so full of something deep and unspoken.

“You’re absolutely sure?” His voice is rough, barely above a whisper, but beneath it is a layer of concern, of restraint.

You nod, swallowing hard, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “I want you.”

Matt exhales slowly, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to keep himself in check. “Okay, angel,” he murmurs, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you.”

His hand traces down your sides again, warm and steady, grounding you as he uses his other hand to position himself, swiping the head of his cock through your slick folds a few times, collecting your arousal that’s dripping onto your thighs.

You both moan at the contact, your eyes glued to his cock, his eyes glued to you. Every movement is unhurried and deliberate- like he’s savoring every second, like he’s making sure you’re ready.

But when he finally starts to push in, your breath catches- your entire body tensing at the unfamiliar stretch, the slow, burning pressure.

Matt freezes immediately, his grip on your waist tightening as his forehead drops against yours. “Shit,” he breathes, voice tight. “You’re so -fuck- so tight, angel.”

A small whimper escapes you, your nails digging into his shoulders. It’s more than you expected- it aches, a deep, overwhelming pressure that steals the breath from your lungs.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Matt-” Your voice wobbles and comes out small and uncertain. You knew he looked big, but you didn’t know it would feel this big.

His head snaps up, and the second he sees your expression, his entire demeanor shifts. His hands cup your face instantly, his thumbs wiping at the wetness gathering beneath your lashes.

“Hey, hey- sweetheart, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, soothing. “I’ve got you. We don’t have to do this, okay? Just say the word, and we stop.”

You shake your head quickly, your fingers tightening around his biceps. “No- I want to,” you insist, though your voice is barely a whisper. “It just… it just hurts a little.”

Matt swallows hard, his restraint written all over his face, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t push any further. Instead, he leans down, pressing a slow, tender kiss to your lips.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he breathes against your mouth. “So good for me.”

His hands stroke your sides, slow and reassuring, easing the tension in your body. He kisses you again. Kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck- each one gentle, patient, as he gives you time to adjust.

“Just breathe for me,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Relax, my love. Let me in.”

You take a shaky breath, trying to will your body to unclench, and slowly, bit by bit, the burn starts to fade. It’s still overwhelming, still a stretch, but the pain begins to dull, replaced by something warmer, something deeper.

Matt watches your face carefully, his fingers brushing soothing circles into your skin. “Better?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You nod hesitantly. “Yeah… better.”

He exhales in relief, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before he moves, just a little, just enough to make you gasp.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “You’re taking me so well.”

You feel so impossibly full- stretched beyond anything you ever thought possible. It’s overwhelming, an ache that borders on too much, like your body is being split apart, struggling to take all of him.

A fresh wave of tears prick at your eyes, your breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps as you shift slightly, trying to adjust.

“Are you… are you all the way in?” you whisper, your voice small.

You prop yourself up on trembling elbows, forcing yourself to look down and the second your gaze lands between your bodies, your stomach drops.

He’s not even halfway there.

Your eyes widen, lips parting in silent disbelief, and when you snap your head up to meet his gaze, Matt is already watching you.

His blue eyes are dark, searching, laced with nothing but pure lust, his jaw tight as he takes in your expression.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low, strained, like he’s barely holding on.

You swallow thickly, your fingers clutching onto his arms, your entire body trembling beneath him.

“I…” You trail off, unable to form words, the realization hitting you like a freight train as you lay back down.

Matt exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath hot and uneven.

“We’ll go slow,” he murmurs. His hands stroke over your thighs, your waist, smoothing over your skin in silent reassurance. “I’ve got you. I promise.”

His lips brush against yours, soft and patient, as he whispers against your mouth. “Just breathe for me.”

And as he finally, finally sinks in all the way, filling you completely, his hands never stop touching you, never stop soothing you.

Matt stills the moment he’s fully inside you, his breath ragged, his arms nearly trembling as he holds himself still. His forehead presses against yours, and for a long moment, the only sound in the room is the shared rhythm of your breathing, the quiet hum of your bodies pressed so intimately together.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his voice barely above a whisper. “You feel so good, angel- so warm, so tight.”

You whimper softly, still adjusting to the overwhelming fullness, the deep stretch that leaves you breathless. Your body is still tense, still unsure, but Matt doesn’t move, doesn’t rush, doesn’t do anything except hold you close, his lips brushing against your cheek, your jaw, the tip of your nose.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his fingers tracing slow, comforting circles against your hip.

You nod hesitantly, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath your touch. “It’s… a lot,” you admit, your voice small, shaky.

Matt exhales sharply, his grip tightening like he’s barely holding himself together. “I know, my love,” he soothes, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “I know. Just breathe for me, yeah? Let your body relax.”

His hands continue moving- gliding up and down your sides, ghosting over your stomach, slipping beneath your thighs to pull you just a little closer. He kisses you again, deep and slow, his tongue tracing along your lower lip, distracting you, coaxing you into letting go of the last bit of tension.

And when you finally, finally exhale, your muscles softening beneath him, Matt groans, his jaw clenching.

“That’s it,” he breathes. “That’s my good girl.”

He pulls out just an inch before easing back in, slow and careful, watching your face the entire time. You gasp, nails digging into his back, overwhelmed by the sensation, the way he fills you so completely, like he was made to fit against you, inside you.

Matt’s breathing is ragged now, his control visibly fraying, but he keeps his pace slow, keeps his movements gentle as he only pushes about and inch out and back into you. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw. “Taking me so well- being so good for me.”

Your body starts to adjust, the discomfort slowly fading, replaced by something warmer, something that makes your toes curl and your breath stutter. A soft moan escapes you, and Matt groans in response, his fingers tightening against your hips.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his voice rough, strained. “Feels better, doesn’t it?”

You nod breathlessly, your hands sliding up his arms, over his shoulders, clinging to him as the warmth between your legs grows, the pleasure building in slow, tantalizing waves.

“Please,” you whisper, not even sure what you’re begging for, only knowing that you don’t want him to stop, don’t want this moment to end.

Matt groans like the sound of your voice is his undoing. “Fuck,” he breathes, his movements still slow but deeper now, more deliberate. “You’re gonna drive me insane.”

He presses his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your lips, his body moving against yours in a rhythm that feels like a confession, like worship. Every roll of his hips is measured, controlled, like he’s savoring you, like he wants this to last forever.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, his voice thick with possession. “You know that, right?”

You shiver beneath him, nodding without hesitation. “Yes,” you whisper.

His lips curl into a smirk against your skin, and his fingers lace with yours, pinning your hands above your head.

“Good girl.”

And then he moves, slow and deep and perfect, and you finally, finally surrender completely.

Matt’s slow, controlled thrusts start to falter, his breathing growing heavier, more uneven. He’s been holding back, reining himself in, treating you like something fragile, something delicate. But the second you moan his name, the second your nails scrape down his back, something snaps inside him.

“Fuck-” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. So perfect for me. I can’t hold back anymore. Tell me if you need me to stop, yeah?”

His pace picks up immediately, his movements more desperate, more intense. The deep, steady thrusts give way to something rougher, something needier, like he can’t get enough of you, like he needs to feel every inch of you wrapped around him.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he growls against your ear, his voice dark, strained with pleasure. “Wanted me to ruin you?”

You whimper beneath him, barely able to form words, your body overwhelmed by the way he’s taking you now, by the way he’s making you feel.

He smirks against your neck, biting down just enough to make you gasp. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his lips tracing down your jaw. “Taking me so fucking well. Such a good girl for me.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your body arching against him, craving more. He notices, of course he notices, and groans, one hand slipping between your bodies, fingers finding the most sensitive part of you.

“Fuck- listen to you,” he breathes, his fingers working you in slow, devastating circles. “So fucking needy for me. You like this, don’t you? Like being my good girl?”

You nod frantically, barely able to think straight, the pleasure building so fast it leaves you dizzy.

Matt chuckles, dark and satisfied, his other hand gripping your thigh, pulling your leg over his shoulder to take him even deeper.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, his pace relentless now, his hips slamming into yours with every thrust. “God, you feel so fucking good. So perfect. All mine.”

You’re close- you can feel it, the pleasure coiling tight, ready to snap. Your hands grip his shoulders, your body trembling beneath him, and he notices that too.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna let me feel you fall apart on me?”

You nod, whimpering his name, and that’s all he needs.

His fingers move faster, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, hitting that spot that makes you cry out, your entire body tightening around him.

“Come on,” he groans, his voice wrecked. “Be the good girl you know you are and cum for me.”

Everything shatters.

Pleasure crashes over you, white-hot and overwhelming, your entire body trembling as you fall apart beneath him.

Matt groans, feeling your body tense and shudder around him as your climax washes over you. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps, and he watches you unravel beneath him with a look of pure possession.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, his fingers still working you through your high, dragging out every last pulse of pleasure. “So fucking beautiful when you cum around me.”

But he isn’t done. Not even close.

His hips never stop moving, never stop thrusting deep into you, and the overstimulation has you whimpering, your body twitching as he keeps pushing you past your limit.

“Too much?” he teases, smirking against your neck as he rolls his hips just right, making your back arch off the bed. “You can take it, sweetheart. Just let me make you feel good.”

You whimper, overwhelmed, but the heat in your stomach is already building again, the sensitivity morphing into another wave of unbearable pleasure.

“You wanted me to make you feel good, didn’t you?” Matt growls, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open wider as he pounds into you with deep, bruising thrusts. “Wanted me to use this perfect untouched little body until you crumble?”

You can’t even answer, your words turning into breathless moans, and Matt groans, his pace rough and unrelenting.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growls, his head falling against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. “So tight, so fucking perfect- God, I’m not gonna stop. Not until I’ve had my fill of you.”

He moves your other leg over his shoulder, sinking even deeper, and you cry out, your whole body jolting from the intensity of it.

“That’s it,” he praises, his hands roaming over your body, gripping your waist, your thighs, your breasts. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You’re already close again- your body hasn’t had time to recover, the pleasure slamming into you with relentless force.

“You gonna cum for me again?” Matt grits out, his voice wrecked, strained. “Come on, baby, give me another- wanna feel you squeeze me again.”

His fingers press harder, rubbing tight, devastating circles against your swollen clit, matching the deep, punishing rhythm of his hips. The pressure is unbearable, the heat coiling so tightly in your stomach that you can barely breathe.

“Matt-” you gasp, your entire body locking up, your back arching as white-hot pleasure rips through you.

But this time it’s different.

Your orgasm hits you like a fucking tidal wave, crashing into you with so much force that your vision blurs, your breath catches, your legs shake uncontrollably over his shoulders. A sharp, helpless cry rips from your throat as your body clenches so hard around him that he groans, his rhythm faltering.

A sudden rush of liquid spills between you, soaking the sheets, drenching his stomach, your thighs, everything.

For a split second, your mind goes blank.

Your body shudders violently, your chest heaving, your limbs weak, your head spinning.

Matt stills.

You’re panting, shaking, blinking up at him in shock, completely dazed, barely able to comprehend what just happened.

Matt exhales sharply, his jaw tightening, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls back slightly, looking down at the mess between you.

His lips part, his eyes darkening, and then he lets out a low, guttural groan.

“Holy fuck.”

Your face burns, your stomach twisting in embarrassment. You have no idea what just happened.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, mortified, trying to close your legs, trying to hide, but Matt’s hands clamp down on your thighs, spreading you open again.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growls, his voice low, feral, dripping with pure, unfiltered desire. His thumb swipes through the wetness, his breath shaky, his body tense.

“You just fucking squirted all over me,” he mutters, almost like he can’t believe it, like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

You let out a small, humiliated whimper, covering your face with your hands, but Matt just chuckles darkly, shaking his head.

“Sweetheart,” he purrs, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head, caging you in. “You think I’d be anything other than completely fucking obsessed with this?”

Your eyes widen as he grinds against you again, still hard, still throbbing inside you.

“You’re gonna do that again,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking against your pulse, his hips pulling back only to slam into you again.

“And this time, I want you to scream my name when you do it.”

Matt doesn’t give you a second to recover- doesn’t give you time to process what just happened.

Before you can catch your breath, before you can even close your legs, he’s already moving again, thrusting deep into you, stretching you all over again, his hands gripping your hips like he never wants to let go.

“Oh my god- Matt-” you gasp, your voice wrecked, shaking, your entire body still tingling from the last orgasm.

But Matt- Matt is relentless.

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my fuckin name,” he growls, snapping his hips forward, his pace turning brutal, needy, unforgiving. “You’re gonna give me another one. I know you can.”

His fingers slip between your bodies, rubbing tight, torturous circles over your clit again, zeroing in on your most sensitive spot.

You whimper, thrash, tremble, the pleasure too much, too overwhelming, too intense.

“Matt- I-” you choke out, your legs twitching, your thighs trying to squeeze together, but he doesn’t let you.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough, desperate, obsessed. “Let it happen. Let me see you cum all over me like that again.”

His pace grows punishing, his fingers unrelenting, and you can feel it building again.

The heat, the pressure, the sharp coil of pleasure tightening in your stomach so fast it nearly blinds you.

You try to fight it- try to pull away, the overstimulation too much, too intense.

But Matt doesn’t let you.

“Don’t you fucking run from it,” he growls, pinning you down, holding you still, his breath hot against your ear. “Be a good girl and fucking take it.”

That’s all it takes.

Your body seizes, your back arching off the bed, and then-

A sharp, helpless scream rips from your throat as another rush of liquid spills from you, gushing between your legs, soaking the sheets, drenching him all over again.

“Holy fuck-” Matt groans, his jaw clenching, his hips faltering as he watches it happen, as he feels it happen.

Your entire body shakes, your vision going white, your mind blanking completely as wave after wave of pleasure crashes into you.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he growls, his voice strained, wrecked, completely gone as he pounds into you one last time.

“Fuck- Y/N-”

.A deep, wrecked groan tears from his throat as he buries himself inside you, his entire body shuddering as he spills into you, his fingers gripping you like he never wants to let go.

For a moment, the room is silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing, the warm press of your bodies still tangled together as he pulls out.

Matt collapses against you, his lips brushing over your damp skin as he exhales shakily. “Fuck,” he mutters, still catching his breath. “You’re… unreal.”

You hum softly, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. But just when you think you’re done, Matt’s lips curl into a smirk against your skin.

“You didn’t think we were finished, did you?” he murmurs, his hands already sliding down your body, already spreading your legs apart again.

Your breath hitches. “Matt-”

But he’s already kissing down your body, already pressing his fingers against your still-sensitive core.

“You can give me one more,” he coaxes, his voice smooth, confident. “And then another. And then another.”

His blue eyes flicker up to yours, dark and filled with something insatiable.

“You’re mine for the night, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your inner thigh. “And I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Within seconds he’s moving again, his hands pulling the teeshirt over his head and throwing it across the room, hands gripping your thighs and spreading you open beneath him. His blue eyes are dark, wild, still hungry as he drags his fingers down your oversensitive core, teasing, testing.

“You can give me more, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low, coaxing. “I know you can.”

Your body jolts as his fingers slip between your folds, his touch slow but deliberate, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your already throbbing clit. A cry escapes your lips, your body twitching from the complete and utter overstimulation, but he just smirks, watching you squirm beneath him.

“Too much?” he teases, tilting his head as he leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth. “That’s what you said last time, too- and look at you now.”

His fingers push inside you, and you gasp, your nails digging into his arms as he starts pumping them at a devastating pace, curling them just right. His thumb continues rubbing tight circles against your clit, and the pleasure slams into you again, sharp and overwhelming.

“Matt- ” you cry out, but your words dissolve into breathless moans as he keeps working you, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin.

“Shh, my love,” he soothes, his other hand gripping your thigh, keeping you spread open for him. “Just let me make you feel good again.”

His fingers work you faster, deeper, and you’re already spiraling, already teetering on the edge again, your body writhing beneath him. He watches your face, his lips curling into a smirk as he sees the way your eyes squeeze shut, the way your mouth parts in desperate pleasure.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Cum for me again, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart.”

It crashes over you so fast you barely have time to prepare- your 5th orgasm of the night tearing through you, your entire body seizing up as you cry out his name, your hands clutching onto him like he’s the only thing grounding you.

Matt groans, feeling the way you clench around his fingers, the way your body trembles from the sheer force of it. He keeps his movements steady, dragging out your pleasure until you’re twitching from the overstimulation, whimpering against his shoulder.

“God damn,” he breathes, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your jaw. “So fucking good for me. So fucking perfect.”

But he’s not done. Before you can even process what’s happening, he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over onto your stomach, pulling you up onto your hands and knees. Your breath catches, your body still trembling, but Matt’s hands are firm, steady, guiding you exactly where he wants you.

“You can give me one more,” he murmurs, his hands smoothing over your hips before gripping them tight. “Just one more, baby.”

He pushes inside you in one slow, deep thrust, and the stretch makes you gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets as he fills you up completely.

“Fuck,” Matt groans, his hands tightening on your waist. “You’re still so fucking tight. How are you still this tight?”

He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, and you let out a strangled moan, your back arching as he sets a brutal, relentless pace.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he growls, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you harder and unbelievably faster and deeper, like he’s finally letting himself go. “So fucking perfect for me.”

His hands slide up your back, one gripping the back of your neck, the other slipping between your legs, rubbing rough, desperate circles against your puffy and abused clit. Your body jolts at the contact, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach again, and Matt groans at the way you squeeze around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate. “One more. Come with me this time.”

You’re so close, the pleasure slamming into you so hard it leaves you breathless. Matt’s grip tightens, his movements growing frantic, and his voice is wrecked as he whispers,

“You’re mine, baby. All fucking mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice, the way he’s taking you, claiming you—it sends lightning through your veins, the coil in your stomach tightening dangerously fast.

“Matty- ” you choke out, your nails digging into his back, your body clenching around him, and he feels it, notices it, because his thrusts somehow become even harder, faster and deeper.

“That’s it, sweetheart, don’t hold back,” he groans, his thumb slipping between you, pressing even rougher circles against your swollen clit. “You’re gonna come for me again. I can feel it.”

His free hand grips your thigh, spreading you even wider for him, letting him sink in even deeper, hitting that spot that has you seeing stars.

It’s too much.

Your whole body locks up, your mouth falling open as a strangled, wrecked cry rips from your throat. Your orgasm slams into you, wave after violent wave, and you can’t stop it-

The release pours out of you, drenching the sheets, soaking him, the mess between you completely obscene.

Matt loses it.

“Holy fucking shit-” he groans loudly, his hips slamming into you one last time, his entire body tensing hard as he buries himself deep inside you.

His release spills into you again, hot and endless, mixing with yours, his grip on you tightening, his body shuddering from the sheer force of it.

Matt finally pulls out, groaning softly as he watches his release spill out of you, dripping onto the already ruined sheets beneath you. He lets out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, looking down at the complete mess you both made. “We absolutely destroyed these sheets.”

You let out a whimper, covering your face with your hands, still dazed, still trembling from everything that just happened.

Matt grins, pressing a soft, teasing kiss against your temple before rolling off the bed.

“Stay there,” he murmurs, pulling the soaking wet sheets off the mattress in one swift motion. The fabric lands on the floor with a heavy thud, and he’s already reaching for fresh ones, moving quickly, effortlessly, like he’s done this before.

Your face burns at the thought.

Matt glances over his shoulder at you, smirking, noticing your expression.

“Don’t go getting all shy on me now, baby,” he teases, snapping the new sheet over the mattress, smoothing it out with practiced ease. “Not after you just squirted all over me, what? Three times?”

You groan, burying your face in a pillow as he lets out a low, satisfied laugh.

“Adorable,” he muses, tossing the ruined sheets into the corner before climbing back into bed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms.

“All set, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair, grinning as he wraps himself around you again. “Now get over here and let me hold you.”

And even as exhaustion starts to take over, his grip never loosens- his body never stops pressing against yours, holding you close like he never wants to let go.

Matt groans softly, still catching his breath, his arms wrapped securely around you. His body is warm, his skin slick with sweat, but neither of you move for a long moment, both too blissed out, too exhausted.

You’re still blushing furiously, the aftermath of everything settling in.

But there’s one thing you can’t quite wrap your head around.

You shift slightly, looking up at him with wide, confused eyes, your fingers playing with the hem of the blanket.

“Matt…” you murmur, your voice small.

He hums in response, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip.

You hesitate before finally asking, genuine confusion in your tone,

“…What happened to me… when I… you know?”

Matt stills.

His lips twitch, and he lifts his head slightly, brows raising as he looks at you, almost like he didn’t hear you right.

“You mean… when you came?” he asks carefully, watching your expression.

You chew on your lip, your cheeks burning, your body curling in on itself slightly.

“I- I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling incredibly shy. “I just… it felt really good but then- then it was like…a lot.”

Matt’s eyes darken, his grip tightening slightly on your hip as he exhales through his nose, clearly holding back a smirk.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, amusement lacing his voice. “You really don’t know?”

You shake your head quickly, suddenly mortified.

Matt grins, propping himself up on his elbow, gazing down at you like he’s completely enamored.

“Baby,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back, his thumb stroking your cheek. “You squirted. Like I said”

You blink.

Your brows furrow, and you shift under the blanket, pulling it closer around you, feeling smaller, embarrassed.

“I- what?”

Matt chuckles, clearly loving this.

“You know…” he smirks, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “When a girl gets so worked up, so completely lost in pleasure that she-”

He gestures vaguely to the soaked sheets on the floor.

You follow his gaze- and suddenly, realization dawns.

Your eyes widen, your face going completely red, and you whip your head back to him, absolutely mortified.

“MATT!” you squeak, hiding your face in your hands.

He laughs, genuinely laughs, shaking his head as he pulls your hands away, his grip gentle but firm.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Don’t get all embarrassed. That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

You groan, your cheeks burning, trying to turn away from him, but he won’t let you.

“Sweetheart,” he purrs, tilting your chin up so you have to look at him.

His blue eyes are dark, filled with something warm, something possessive.

“You have no idea how much that turned me on,” he murmurs. “How fucking good you looked when you let go like that.”

Your stomach flutters violently, and you bury your face in his chest, whining softly.

Matt just laughs again, wrapping his arms tighter around you, completely obsessed with your innocence, your sweetness.

Then he shifts.

You blink up at him, bleary-eyed, as he carefully untangles himself from you and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Where are you going?” you murmur sleepily, frowning as you reach for him.

Matt chuckles, shaking his head as he stands. “Relax, sweetheart. I just need to clean you up.”

That wakes you up a little more.

You sit up, your brow furrowing in confusion. “You need to… what?”

Matt glances at you over his shoulder, smirking. “Clean you up,” he repeats simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He grabs a clean rag from the dresser and disappears into the bathroom.

You sit there, stunned, your legs still weak and trembling as you try to process the situation. He’s… he’s going to clean you up?

You don’t have time to overthink it before Matt is back, damp rag in hand, his expression calm and casual- like he hasn’t just spent the past however long wrecking you completely.

But then he kneels back onto the bed, his large hands gripping your thighs, and you suddenly feel very small, very exposed.

“Matt-” you start, but he just smirks, shaking his head as he spreads your legs apart again.

“Sweetheart,” he tuts, his voice low, teasing. “I just made you cum like six times. You can’t be all shy and shit now.”

Your entire face burns, your thighs instinctively trying to press back together, but Matt just grips them firmly, keeping you open for him.

“Matthew!” you squeak, but then you see it.

Your gaze drops, and your breath catches as you notice the mess between your legs- his cum, mixed with yours, spilling out of you, slick and warm against your thighs.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, absolutely mortified.

Matt chuckles, his eyes darkening as he watches your reaction. “It’s normal, angel,” he reassures you, his thumb stroking your inner thigh.

You look back up at him, eyes wide. “You’re not… grossed out?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “No, sweetheart. If anything…” He leans in slightly, his gaze flickering downward, his jaw clenching. “I’m almost getting hard again just looking at it.”

Your face somehow turns even redder.

“Oh my gosh,” you whimper, covering your face with your hands as you flop back against the pillows, absolutely overwhelmed.

Matt just chuckles again, his smirk unmistakably smug as he brings the warm rag between your legs and starting to clean you up, his touch gentle, careful.

But even as he moves with patience, his eyes flicker up to meet yours, and the way he looks at you makes you wonder just how much rest you’re actually going to get tonight.

After he finishes cleaning you up, Matt tosses the rag aside and looks down at you, his blue eyes softer now, filled with something warm, something that makes your stomach flutter. He brushes a hand over your thigh, his fingers tracing gentle, soothing circles.

“You sore?” he asks, his voice low, genuinely concerned.

You shift slightly, feeling the lingering ache between your legs, and nod. “Yeah… it hurts down here.”

Matt exhales, running a hand through his hair before he moves, standing just long enough to walk around the bed before slipping under the covers on the other side. He pats the mattress beside him.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, inviting.

You hesitate only for a second before scooting over, letting him pull you into his arms. His warmth surrounds you instantly, his body solid and comforting, his scent still intoxicating- like musk and something undeniably him.

His chin rests lightly atop your head, and he sighs, his hands lazily tracing up and down your back, grounding you both in the quiet afterglow.

“How was it?” he asks after a moment, his voice rumbling against your skin. “Your first time?”

You let out a soft giggle, nuzzling closer against his chest. “It was really good,” you admit, your voice muffled against his skin. “But… I don’t really know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Matt chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you came six times, I’d say it was pretty damn good, sweetheart.”

“Is that normal?” Your cheeks flush, and you bite your lip, hiding your face against him.

He laughs again, clearly amused. “No. Not usually. But that’s a good thing,”

“Matt?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

“Mm?”

You shift, rolling over so you can face him. He tilts his head slightly, his brows raising at your expression.

“How many people have you done it with?” you ask, your gaze flickering downward, suddenly shy.

Matt blinks, visibly caught off guard. His mouth opens, then closes, and for the first time since the night started, he looks almost… awkward.

“Uh…” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why?”

You shrug, still not looking at him, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I don’t know,” you mumble, your voice suddenly small. “I was just… wondering.”

Matt watches you for a long moment, and then realization dawns. His lips twitch slightly, and he tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement.

You immediately look down, avoiding his eyes entirely, and he exhales sharply, his smirk growing.

“Oh, you are,” he murmurs, his fingers tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes flicker with something playful, something teasing. “That’s adorable.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands, but Matt just chuckles, prying them away and pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, “I don’t care about anyone before you. The only person I’m thinking about right now- the only person I want- is you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, and you finally look up at him, your lips parting slightly. His expression softens, and his thumb strokes over your cheek, his gaze filled with something deeper, something more sincere.

“Okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, swallowing thickly. “Okay.”

Matt grins, clearly satisfied, and pulls you back against his chest, his arms tightening around you.

“Good,” he says, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Because I plan on keeping you all to myself.”

Matt tilts your chin up again, his blue eyes flickering between yours, his gaze deep, searching. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, his breath warm as he leans in.

And then he kisses you.

It’s not like before- not rushed or desperate. This kiss is slow, deep, intimate. His lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your stomach flip, makes your body melt into his touch. His hands cradle your face like you’re something precious, his fingers tracing soft patterns along your jaw, down your neck.

You sigh into his mouth, your arms looping around his shoulders, pulling him closer. The heat between you starts to build again, your bodies pressing together under the covers, the slow drag of his lips against yours turning into something more heated, more urgent.

Matt groans softly, tilting your head back further as his tongue brushes against yours, deepening the kiss. His hands wander lower, slipping beneath the blanket, gripping your waist as he shifts, rolling you onto your back.

He hovers over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his lips trailing down your jaw, his breath warm against your skin.

“God,” he murmurs, his voice husky, wrecked, “I can’t get enough of you.”

He starts to crawl over you, his knee parting your thighs, his hands framing your face as his lips find yours again, this time more desperate, more claiming-

BANG.

The bedroom door swings open so suddenly it slams against the wall.

“Hey, Y/N, I was a fucking hour into the drive when I realized I forgot my wallet, do you know where I-”

Silence.

Absolute, deafening silence.

You freeze. Matt freezes.

Your brother stands in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, taking in the scene in front of him:

Matt completely naked and hovering over you, your legs tangled together under the covers, both of you breathless, flushed, naked, and clearly caught in the middle of something.

Your brother’s face twists in absolute horror, his expression shifting from shock to pure rage in a matter of seconds. His jaw clenches, his fists tighten, and then-

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” he bellows, his voice shaking the walls.

The room goes still.

Your stomach drops.

Matt’s chest rises and falls slowly, his body tense, frozen, unreadable.

Your eyes snap to his, wide, panicked, pleading.

Matt just meets your gaze, steady and sure, his blue eyes flickering with something unreadable.

Neither of you move.

Neither of you speak.

There’s not much you could say anyways.

What is there to do when you’re caught with one man who was off limits?

EPILOGUE OUT NOW!

MASTERLIST

a/n: and with that, the earned it series has come to an end 🫡 thank you for all the love on this series. YOU ARE ALL INCREDIBLE!! you literally give me motivation to write. so thank you. i know i left on another cliffhanger…. sorry not sorry. the original draft of this chapter was actually like 8k words and included what happened after the brother walked in but i decided that I kinda wanna leave it up to the readers mind. yall get to decide what happens after this! (maybe I’ll put out an epilogue or smth idk) BUT THANK YOU AGAIN SO MUCH!!! SO MUCH LOVE!!!

-c🧡

for @mattsobvimyfav as always, i love you. thank you for being you. you are my sunshine.

tags: @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

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martiniluvr · 7 months ago

Text

18+ minors dni

a lil bit of a long drabble but I’ve been consumed by visions of sparring w jason so…ur welcome.

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

you grunt with effort as you hurl your fist towards jason todd, yelling in exasperation when he easily blocks your punch with his forearm. “you’re not driving hard enough,” he barks, obstructing your other hand with the same manoeuvre. “still not paying attention, are you?” you glare at him and lunge again, aiming for his side, and you manage to land a decent hit this time. he grunts softly, but shakes his head.

“rookie mistake,” he huffs, glancing down with a smirk. “you just sacrificed your footing.” he sweeps his leg between yours and knocks you to the mat, instantly pinning you under his body with his muscular legs. “see, if this was the real world,” he pants, his face hovering inches above yours, “you’d be dead now, ma.” your chest heaves and sweat beads along your hairline as you squirm beneath him, your arms flailing as you try to wrestle yourself free. jason lets out a chuckle as his eyes drift down to your breasts spilling out over your sports bra. “don’t hurt yourself,” he teases.

you huff angrily and try to shove his arm, widening your eyes as he loses balance, if only for a second; not wasting a moment, you roll out from under him and use the momentum to launch yourself onto your knees, before dropping back on top of jason and pinning him using the same position he had used on you mere seconds before. you grin at his puzzled expression as you press your forearm to his chest. “do you yield?” you ask, raking your eyes over the y-shaped scar down his exposed abdomen.

“you cheated,” he says, knitting his brows; still, you notice a smile tugging at his lips. you reach down to move a strand of white hair that’s stuck to his sweaty forehead, smiling at him. “no rules in a street fight, jay,” you laugh. “just admit you lost.” you absently shift over jason’s pelvis, sending a flash of heat up his abdomen. “come on, jay. let me have this!”

his green eyes glimmer as you speak, and he slowly works to free one of his arms while you gloat. “no rules, huh?” he muses, trying to keep you distracted. “alright, ma. let’s do this your way.” you barely have time to question what he means before his arm flies out from under your legs and knocks you flat onto the mat. you gasp as you feel jason’s heavy body resting on your back, biting your lip when his hips rock against your ass. you feel his hardening cock pushing into you, which sends warmth pooling in your lower belly.

“what’s wrong, ma?” he breathes against your ear, tracing one of his hands down your back and over the curve of your ass until he’s between your legs. his fingers press against your clothed clit, and you breathe shakily as he rubs slow circles over your leggings. “y’said no rules, right?” you don’t answer, too preoccupied with biting back a moan as jason works your legs apart with his knee so he can grind his length against you.

“wanted me to let you win,” he tuts, using one hand to tug your fitted leggings over the flesh of your ass and down your thighs. “c’mon, princess, you know I’m a sore loser.” you whine as he tugs your panties to the side and runs his fingers from your clit to your entrance. a deep chuckle rumbles behind you as he feels how wet you are, and you feel him shift as he aligns himself at your pussy. you moan desperately when he glides the head of his cock between your folds, pressing your belly further into the mat in an attempt to feel him.

“yield,” jason whispers in your ear, guiding his length to your tight cunt but never giving you what you need. “c’mon, ma. just admit you lost and I can help you, hm?” you can practically hear the smug grin on his face, but even though you’re probably just as sore a loser as he is, there’s only one thing you want more than a win right now.

“fuck, jay,” you whine, bucking your hips back up against him, “I yield, okay? you win. please, just—please.” he laughs behind you and places his hands on your waist, turning you onto your back so you can face him. he takes in your lust-blown pupils and pliant, sweat-beaded body with a grin. not so tough now, are you, princess?

“that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he smirks, pulling your leggings off completely and discarding them behind you, before bringing his fingers back down to your clit. a moan escapes you as he aligns himself at your aching cunt, sinking into you agonisingly slow as his fingers dig into your delicate skin. he swears under his breath as you squeeze around him, feeling your walls drawing him in hungrily. “fuck, ma,” he groans, leaning back to watch you take him. a hazy smile spreads over his lips as you arch your spine off the mat beneath you. “not a bad consolation prize, huh, baby?”

#this idea has been haunting me #so here u go #bon appetit #jason todd #red hood #jason todd smut #red hood smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #dc comics #batfam #fem reader

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daintcas · 11 months ago

Text

breaking up with rafe cameron (it lasts a day) !

your phone was blowing up furiously with notifications you didn't have to look at to know who it was. another text from your recently self-proclaimed ex-boyfriend pinged again.

'Where are you'

'Answer me.'

'I'm coming to your house'

'We're going to talk about this'

swiping off the messages from your lock screen and angrily flipping over your phone, you sat up in bed where you'd been sulking and threw off the covers.

he'd really hurt your feelings this time, off and gone doing god knows what (selling w barry) for days, usually without a single text. when you did finally get to see him, he had the audacity to be tense and mean towards you.

everyone knows about rafe's short temper, but you're the one who had to deal with it. after so much of letting him take it out on you - especially recently - and not having a spare second to love on your boyfriend, you'd had enough and stopped hanging around his house. shortly after, ending it through a single text.

the sound of his truck swerving into your driveway had you furrowing your brows and pouting, stomping down the stairs to lock the front door. as you reach out the twist the knob, it swings open and you're left stumbling back.

his mere presence towering over you wipes your confidence to say anything. forcing himself inside, he shuts the door behind him and inches closer to you - like a predator to their prey.

"you gonna explain, or what?" he asks, tauntingly slow as he looks down at you and your glossy eyes, trying to contain his anger.

"we're done, rafe. that's what," you push out, though admittedly failing at trying to stand your ground. with him here in front of you, what could you possibly have been so upset about? your memory fails you the longer you keep his intense gaze.

he scoffs and shakes his head, exhaling sharply through his nose to physically release his rage - though his jaw is still firmly clenched. "that's fuckin' rich."

"i'm serious. you're— you're never here. i'm all by myself at your house all the time. i just.. it's so lonely." after finally finding your words and letting them out, the both of you seem to relax a bit.

"baby, i— listen, i'm workin' a business now, okay? i got my own money, i'm.. providing. for you." he explains in a hurry, trying to hide how desperately he needs you back.

"i don't need any of that, rafe. i just want to be around you." your voice starts to trail off towards the end, partly because of the vulnerability but mostly because of his possible reaction.

as he runs his hands over his face to ease the tension between his brows, he lets out a sigh and stays silent for a moment.

"don't fucking scare me like that. you can just tell me this shit, don't have to go starting a bunch of nonsense." the words are followed by his hands dropping to his side, looking down at you more hurt than mad.

it has your heart melting and your head nodding before looking down, letting out a bold but harmless mumble. "still mad at you though.."

the arm hooking around the back of your neck tugs you into his chest, free hand messily working through your hair to pull you firmer against him. his lips plant possessively on the crown of your head before murmuring, "jesus christ."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron prompt

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grandline-fics · 8 months ago

Note

Hi, Hi, Thank you for answering! Since you said you accepted multiples characters i may ask for Ace, Zoro, Shanks if possible Marco with a s/o who during their relationship never show any signs of jealousy nor even possessiveness, very laidback. Yet one day/night, the boys just witnessed their s/o jealousy for the first time. And if possible the s/o’s jealousy is mostly staying deadly quiet with a disappointed gaze, but not cold treatment though. Or something like that? Thank you, thank you, I hope I did not asked characters you aren’t comfortable with :(

DESCRIPTION: They finally see you jealous

WARNINGS: some slight angst but it all ends happily for everyone

CHARACTERS: Ace, Shanks, Marco

WORDS: 2,453

A/N: Thank you for this request! I hope each scenario was different enough for you and that you're happy with the result for this ask

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

ACE

If Ace were to find a partner, he couldn’t get anyone better than you. You were his closest friend before you both became aware of your deep romantic feelings for the other and both confessed, allowing things to effortlessly progress into a romantic relationship. With you Ace knows he is safe and free to be himself, just as you can be yourself without judgement. Because you were both friends before becoming a couple, you both are content to spend time together while also being apart. You both can spend an evening in a bar with the other Whitebeard Pirates and hardly say a word to each other until its time for you both to return to the ship. Because of the fact neither of you cling to the other for the entirety of the night, it can lead to some misconceptions about the relationship you both have to an outsider.

One evening you returned to the Moby Dick after being sent out on a solo mission by Pops. As usual the deck was lively and filled with laughter and chatter. You noticed some new faces to the crew, making a note to properly introduce yourself to the new recruits after you spoke to Pops. On your approach you slowed to see one recruit standing very close to Ace, who merely smiled at them with his usual friendly smile. While he couldn’t see the lust in his admirer’s eyes you could see it clearly. “So you’re my commander? I’m so lucky to be under someone as handsome as you.” She smirked and Ace laughed, while you rolled your eyes, continuing to walk forward.

Marco spotted your approach first and called out your name in greeting. Immediately Ace looked over excitedly only for his smile to drop when he spotted the look in your gaze. Normally you were as excited as he was when you were reunited but now you seemed almost disappointed. Worry flipped in his stomach and he reached out towards you but instinctively you pulled your arm away and continued to walk. “I have to talk to Pops first. I’ll catch up with you after.”

“Looks like someone’s in the doghouse.” Izou teased when he knew you were out of earshot.

“Can you blame them? They go for a couple weeks and come back to Ace flirting with another person.” Marco chimed in with a feigned look of disapproval while Ace became panicked and looked between his fellow Division Commanders. Did you really think that? Was he really in trouble? Worse still, was his relationship with you at risk because he hadn’t realised one of the recruits was flirting with him again?

Acting on impulse he immediately raced up the deck and slid to a halt beside you, hooking an arm around your waist and hauling you off of your feet. “Sorry, Pops! Emergency!” he called out over your shouts, ignoring them and the whooping cheers as he carried you below deck to your shared room to speak in private. When you were set on your feet you lightly shoved Ace. “What the hell did you do that for?” You demanded only to blink in surprise when Ace threw himself onto his knees and wrapped his arms around your waist, staring up at you in desperation. “Please don’t end things with me! I promise you’re the only one I want, I’d never throw what we have away. I swear I didn’t flirt back. I’d never-”

“I know Ace.” You stopped his rambling with a small smile and lightly setting your hand on his cheek. “You never realise when anyone flirts with you. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen someone throw themselves at you.”

“But that look on your face…and Izou and Marco said I was in the doghouse…”

“Yeah I don’t like seeing someone flirt with you but I know you’re loyal to me.” You shrugged. “As for those two, they’re just bored. I wasn’t going to get mad at you for not realising someone wanted to get with you. I trust you Ace.”

“If you were mad at me though…”

“I’d tell you.” You promised before pinching his cheek and scowling. “For example, I’m not happy you dragged me away while I was in the middle of talking to Pops. But I’ll forgive you just this once because of how worried you were.” You smiled to see the relief in Ace’s eyes and suddenly became aware of the strain in your neck. “Now would you please get up and welcome me home properly?” With a grin, Ace adjusted his hold on you and quickly pulled you down to instead settle on his lap so he could lovingly pepper your face with kissed before finally kissing you with all the love he could convey. Despite you promising you were fine he needed to show that you were the only one he ever wanted this way.

SHANKS

“Oh Captain’s got his hands full again….or rather hand full.” You glanced across the bar as you entered the building to see what Lucky had been talking about and your sights zeroed in on the swarm of women around your Captain. Any that hadn’t been able to grab a chair at the table, stood excitedly close all of them listening to the current tale of adventure the crew had been on. Everyone in the crew, including yourself were used to this occurrence. Of course they’d be drawn to the handsome Captain with the roguish smile. You’d been drawn to it and fallen for his charm so you couldn’t exactly blame anyone else for it too.

Despite that you still couldn’t help the foreign, uncomfortable feeling stirring in you at the sight. Up until a few months ago, you would have joined in with the rest of the crew, teasing your popular Captain but since then you’d fallen for him and started a relationship with Shanks which some of the crew still weren’t completely aware of. Jealousy wasn’t something you’d ever really felt before seeing as your previous relationship were flings at best and you and your partner knew as much. What you had with Shanks however felt different and because of the fact neither of you had made it public or put a label on what was going on between you both, it made the feeling even more uneasy at the sight in front of you.

You walked with Lucky Roux to Shanks’ table just as he finished his story. At your approach Shanks’ eyes lit up and he grinned at you from behind his mug. “You two have some catching up to do.” He joked, while Lucky grinned and reached for the filled mug of ale offered to him, you nodded slightly and took your own with less enthusiasm as you normally would. Immediately Shanks’ suspicions were heightened, while his carefree smile remained the look in his eyes sharpened as he observed you drink steadily. A couple of the newer members of the crew rose from their seats to let you and Lucky sit at Shanks’ table out of respect to you both. Lucky took his seat without hesitation whereas you smiled and shook your head gently. Instead you drained your mug and turned to go to the bar for a refill. Shanks’ eyebrow quirked slightly and his fingers drummed against his mug while he watched you in concern. “Were there any issues Lucky?”

“Not a one, Cap’n. Ship got restocked without problem and the locals reported no trouble since our last visit here. Everyone’s happy.” Lucky reported with his usual smile before returning to his own conversation with Hongo. Shanks glanced at you from across the room again, watching as even with your new drink, you remained by the bar, sipping it slowly and staring at nothing. Shanks finished off his drink and moved to stand only for one of the women fawning over him put a hand on his shoulder, insisting they’d go and get the drink for him only for the others to pipe up too, leading them to bicker over who would get him a refill. “No, no, I’ll go myself, it’s fine. You all stay and Ben here will tell you of my best battle, won’t you Ben?”

At the promise of another story, Shanks was able to get away from the table without being followed by his admirers and he let out a sigh when he was out from the crowded presences and now standing beside you, fully noticing the difference he felt in the comparison of the two feelings. While he waited for the bartender to see to him, he glanced at you and saw your far-off look. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m staying close to the alcohol so I can catch up like you ordered me to Captain.” Your answer was even and detached, your gaze remaining on nothing in particular on the opposite wall.

“You’ve got me worried, love.” At that pet-name you finally looked at Shanks. Unable to help yourself you glanced behind him to the table filled with people still waiting for him to return before returning your stare to his face.

“It wasn’t my intention to worry you or ruin your fun. I was keeping my distance specifically to avoid that.” You explained and Shanks finally realised what the problem was. You were jealous, over them? People who paled in comparison to you in every way.

“My fun’s only ruined if you’re not with me.” Shanks murmured closing the small space between you both. He saw the hesitancy in your eyes and he gave you a reassuring smile before securing his arm around your waist and kissing you deeply, the action dispelling the unease you’d been feeling instantly. Over the sound of the crew whistling and shouts of others to pay up because of a bet neither you or Shanks were aware of you broke apart from the kiss and smile when he lay his head against yours. “Should’ve done this a long time ago when I finally got you.”

MARCO

You knew what you were getting into when you and Marco gave into your attraction for each other. You knew that his time would be taken up mostly with caring for Pops on a daily basis and the other members of the crew when they were sick or injured. Any free time he would have was precious and you were never possessive of that. When he was able to spend time with you he did and your patience was alway appreciated from him. Sometimes when he’s overloaded with work you stop by to offer him some food and sit in his office for an hour or so, just to enjoy each other’s presence. You don’t need to talk, just being there is enough for you both.

On this occasion you hadn’t seen Marco because of a nasty flu making its way through some of the crew and after a few days without seeing his face, you’d grown to miss him. So you made your way to the medical office and your step faltered when you heard the familiar sound of his laughter coming from inside. Lightly you knocked on the door once and entered the room to see one of the nurses standing beside Marco as he sat at his desk. You smiled warmly when Marco seemed happy to see you but your smile fell when you spotted the empty plate on his desk. “Ah, you’ve already eaten.”

“Of course he has.” The nurse giggled, smiling at Marco playfully. “Though he would have forgotten if it wasn’t for me. As amazing as he is as a Doctor, he’s hopeless at looking after himself.”

“He’s lucky you’re here to look after for him then.” You said, unable to sound as cheerful as the nurse. Clearing your throat you looked down at the small plate of food you’d brought for your boyfriend. You knew nothing was going on between him or any of the nurses that worked closely alongside him but you still felt the jealousy growing in your chest. This was a small thing you could do for Marco and you felt childish for feeling stung that he didn’t need you. You didn’t like the feeling and needed to distance yourself from the cause. “I’m glad you’ve eaten so I’ll let you get back to your work. Don’t let him overwork himself, okay?” You forced the joke out with a tight smile while the nurse smiled brightly and nodded in joy that you were trusting her. Marco watched silently as you turned and left him. Even with his tiredness, he could still see something was wrong with you.

As soon as he completed the current task on his desk, Marco stood and stretched. After working without resting for these days, he knew no-one would begrudge him a break away from his office. Stretching out he walked through the corridors until he was walking into the room he shared with you. You looked up in surprise from your lounged spot on the sofa. Before you could react, Marco was crawling onto the sofa and laying ontop of you, his head resting against your chest as his arms encircled you, holding you close. “Marco, what are you-”

“You left far too quickly.” Marco groaned out, now that he was lying down he realised just how uncomfortable sitting at his desk was. “I missed you, sorry I was cooped up in my office all this time.”

“You’re don’t need to apologise for that Marco.”

“I feel like I do need to say sorry for something though.” he admitted, lifting his head slightly to look at you with concern. “You didn’t seem yourself when you stopped by.”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” You promised, gently running your fingers through his hair. Under his patient stare you sighed and continued. “I’m not a doctor like you or trained in anything medical. For the most part I’m fine with that because I’m good in other ways but it’s just when you are overworking yourself there’s not much I can do to help you. One of those things is taking care of you and making sure you’re eating. It’s silly but it made me jealous to see someone else doing that for you.”

“It’s not silly at all. We can’t help our emotions but I’m glad you were able to talk to me about it.” Marco smiled, taking your hand to press a loving kiss against your wrist. “Never feel like you’re replaceable. I’m only ever able to rest like this because of your influence over me. No one looks after me the way you can and you’re the only one I want.”

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honeekyuu · 1 month ago

Text

genius. [akaashi keiji x f!reader] chapter three.

>>You struggle to pay rent on your limited graduate student salary, and your worst enemy agrees to help you out.

You realize you need to find a partner for your faceless porn account, and Akaashi Keiji is the only man who meets all your requirements.<<

series status: [ongoing]

previous. || masterlist. || next.

a/n: so much to say and so little time to say it

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

When you come to, you’re completely slumped over Akaashi, your head buried in the crook of his neck and his arms hanging loosely around you. He’s breathing hard, jostling you where you lie flat on top of him.

“Shit,” he breathes, lifting one hand to his hair and curling his fingers into the locks. You make a small noise, one that’s neither awake nor asleep, and he taps his other hand on your back lightly. “You good?”

You nod groggily and try to lift onto your hands. Your arms shake, so you adjust, but the motion has you both flinching, because Akaashi’s still inside of you. “Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, oversensitive, and he drops both hands to your hips, breathing out shakily while he lifts you off of him. You start to fall sideways onto the bed, but he catches you, throwing his body toward yours and catching you so that you don’t hit the mattress too hard.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he says, a furrow in his brow when you glance up at him. “I put you through a lot.”

“Yeah, you tend to,” you joke weakly, your head lolling to the side as he sits up. You both sigh hard, Akaashi barely managing to crawl to the end of the bed for your phone and both sets of underwear before he returns to his spot. “Thanks,” you mumble when he hands everything to you, and, as you’re sliding your panties on (and ditching the bra, because you can’t be bothered right now), you look down at the sheets. “The bed’s dirty.”

“Don’t care. Need a nap.” He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning. You curl up on your side next to him, your eyes heavy and your muscles aching. A nap sounds glorious.

Before you can drift off, however, his words are ringing through your head.

‘You know me better than that.’

Your eyes crack open, and you stare at the side of his face. His head is bobbing slightly as he starts to fall asleep, eyes flickering open and shut, and you feel distantly bad for interrupting.

“You’re really not doing it on purpose? Any of it?” you whisper, half-hoping it doesn’t wake him at all.

His eyelids flutter, and he turns his head groggily to meet your gaze. When he sees you looking, he turns onto his side, achingly slow, until he’s facing you, too. And then he shakes his head, the exhaustion clear in his every move.

“Not at all,” he whispers back, surprisingly open with you in his tired state. “Are you?”

You frown slightly, confused. “What could I be doing on purpose?”

His eyes slide shut for a moment. “Everything.”

You get the feeling that what he’s just admitted is bigger than what you have the space to process right now. So you just shake your head, too, and echo his words back. “Not at all.”

“Okay,” he breathes, after a pause that’s so long that you’d wondered if he’d fallen asleep. “That’s settled, then.”

“I don’t think anything’s settled.” You could probably stop whispering, but the world outside is starting to grow dark, taking this room with it, and the only light in the house comes from the kitchen, so far away from the space between you and Akaashi. And his pinky is brushing up against yours, twitching as he falls asleep, but he’s reaching sleepily for it anyway, hooking your fingers together just before his breath evens out. You’re not sure that he realizes he’s done it.

You want to let him sleep – you want to sleep. But you need his answer. So you squeeze your pinky against his once, and his brows twitch as he wakes again. He hums softly, marking his attention.

“What do we do?” you ask, your words as vague and unclear as your head feels. He swallows, unknowingly shifting marginally closer to you.

“Told you,” he breathes, a little slurred. “Not doing it on purpose. Jus’ happens.” He lets out a tired sigh and shifts again. “Everything jus’ happens…”

“So, what d’we do?” you say again, eyes flitting all over his face for an answer.

“Nothin’,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “Nothin’ to do but let it happen.”

You stare at him so long that he falls asleep again, his head tilted toward yours. You wonder if you can do that – just let it happen. Whatever that means – whatever it is. You wonder if you can just give in to Akaashi Keiji like that.

‘You know me better than that.’

You suppose that’s alright. Because he’s giving in, too.

When you finally drift off to sleep, it’s with your forehead pressed against his and his finger curled around yours.

–

Keiji flies up in a tangle of limbs and a gasp that wakes you.

“Shit-” His eyes fly to the window, seeing that dawn’s well past come. You groan, still curled up on your side, and his head whips around to the bedside table, his phone snatched up in an instant.

It’s almost 7am.

“Fucking shit-” He rolls out of bed, missing his footing and tumbling right off of it. He hits the floor in a pile of his own body, groaning and shaking it off as best as he can, and you sit up quickly, caught off guard by his crash landing.

“Akaashi-”

“Shit, fuck-” He trips over his own feet, still half-asleep, and tries to locate his clothes. “It’s almost 7. I have to get home and shower and get my shit. I have to teach at 9.” He snatches his shirt off the floor and pulls it on, letting out a frustrated groan when he realizes it’s on backwards.

“Take an Uber. I’ll pay for it,” you try, but he just shakes his head, rushing to twist the shirt around.

“Need my bike later–wait.” He looks at you, in his boxers and his half-on shirt and his crooked glasses. You stare back, in your underwear and your bedhead and a pillow pressed to your chest in order to hide your body from him in this new daylight. “We only filmed one thing.”

Your eyes go wide, and you’re breathing ‘fuck’ as you stare up at him. He looks around the room, blinking hard. “What do we do?” he asks, still standing there like an idiot.

“I’m free tonight if you want to come back,” you offer. He nods – he thinks he’s free, too.

“Yeah, that works.”

“Okay, then take an Uber home, since you’re just coming back,” you push again. “And leave your shit here.”

“Okay,” he sighs, searching for his jeans. “That’s fine.”

He finds them on the other side of the bed, entirely unsure how they’d gotten there, and starts to hop into them. There’s a moment of silence, one where he goes through the mental list of his things – wallet, keys, phone – before you’re speaking.

“Akaashi.”

“Hm?” he hums, taking one last hop to get his jeans up to where they need to be before he’s wrestling with the zipper.

“You said last night that there’s nothing we can do except let things happen.” Keiji pauses with his fingers on his zipper, back turned to you and eyes flicking down at nothing while he thinks. Had he said that? “Did you mean that?” you ask quietly.

He tugs his zipper up and does the button, blinking rapidly. His ears start to warm with some unknown embarrassment. “I suppose I did.”

“So… are we just gonna…” You don’t finish the question, but he hears it, anyway, and his heart flips in his chest.

Are we just gonna keep doing this? Whatever we want?

He glances over his shoulder at you, turning slightly while he tightens his belt around his hips. “What is it, huh?” he asks, a soft smirk lifting on his lips. “You attracted to me, Freak?”

You scowl, but he sees the interest in your eyes. It’s the same interest that plucks at his nerves now, as he’s doing up his belt and staring down at you where you sit, naked in the bed that he’s fucked you in twice this week.

“I think you know the answer to that,” you bite, but it’s lacking its usual edge. You’re nervous.

He doesn’t have it in him right now to fuck with you, because he’s nervous, too. “Yeah. I do.” He scoops up his phone and runs his fingers through his hair. “Okay, I have all my shit, I think.”

You tap quickly on your phone with an uncertain nod. “Okay,” you say after a moment. “Uber will be here in two minutes.”

He nods, rushing to the door. “Thanks,” he breathes, and then he stops himself with a hand on the door frame. He shouldn’t leave like this.

Backing slowly into the room again and eyeing you where you sit, he sighs. “Freak.”

You look up from your phone, frowning. “Is that just gonna be your new name for me-”

“I’m attracted to you, too.”

Your mouth drops open, and his splits in a smug grin that hides how terrifying it had been to admit that.

“But you probably figured that out, didn’t you?” he asks quietly. When you just swallow and nod shallowly, he nods back. “So, yes. We’re ‘just gonna’.” He quotes your unfinished question and offers no ending. The rest of it sits between you, the silence empty and full at the same time.

You let out a long breath after a moment. “Okay,” you whisper.

The sound of it – of your agreement to the unsaid proposal he’d just made – makes his fingertips go numb.

“Okay,” he breathes back. “I’m gonna go.”

“Okay.”

As he sits in the back of the Uber, Keiji tries to remember what he’s in such a rush for.

–

The time between October 25th and November 11th passes in a blur.

You and Akaashi find a flow, one that’s surprisingly easy. He comes over twice a week, as planned, and the world around you – outside of you – reduces to nothing but the things that happen inside the walls of your apartment. You both leave everything behind and enter into the suspended disbelief that carries you through this arrangement.

He bends you over every surface in the spare bedroom and forces you to forget who you are, not that that’s hard with the way he handles you. You talk back as often as you can, because the way his eyes light up when you do tells you he likes the challenge. That no one challenges him quite like you. You bump heads throughout the day, over and over again, only to fall into each other at night in a way that’s wonderfully in sync – two pieces of different puzzles that fit together as though they’d been made that way.

You start to think after a while that every argument you find yourself in with Akaashi Keiji only serves to make this thing between you stronger when you’re alone. Because on the days that your tension is particularly bad, you find it that much easier to give in to him. On the days when you’re particularly combative, he’s that much more eager to mold you into what he wants. Easy, like putty under his fingertips, you give for him – and he gives right back, just like he’d promised.

He still won’t let you touch him, not in the way that you want. After two weeks, he still won’t let you show him how to get out of his own head. He spanks you, ties you up, bends you in ways no one ever has before and makes you do things that would be completely humiliating if not for the fact that it’s him making you do them. You know that – you’re aware enough to know that it’s because it’s him.

That it’s always been because it’s him.

So even if he won’t let you do the one thing you keep asking for – tears in your eyes, a pout on your lips, anything that might make him give in to you – you can’t find it in you to be too upset. Because a deal is a deal, and Akaashi Keiji’s good for his word. And in return for giving him what he wants, he fucks you in your favorite position, once and then twice more in the same night, because you’re just that good at listening.

You listen to him, no matter the request, and he makes it worth your while without fail.

It bleeds into your everyday life without either of you realizing it.

Not the sex – never the sex. But things are different now. That suspended disbelief reaches, aching and stretching, into the corners of your days, touching the tension between you and then slipping away before you have a chance to recognize that things are changing.

Akaashi sits in the back of the LEM meetings now, where no one can see him. He lets other people take the round table, slipping in at the last second and taking a seat against the wall instead of coming five minutes early like he always does. He does it on purpose – you know he does, because he makes two choices.

The first is that – on days when you don’t present – he sits right behind you and taps his foot ever so lightly on one of your chair legs, just to remind you he’s there. And when you inevitably inch forward, he’s quick to adjust, because the universe had cursed him with long legs and he’s more than willing to use them. If you grow annoyed enough to turn and glare at him, you’re always unlucky enough to catch the smirk tugging at his lips and the heated look in his eye, because he gets off on you snapping at him.

You both know that now, and he’s not ashamed to admit it, anymore. Not to you.

The second – much, much worse – comes on the days that you do present. Because you’re forced to speak to a group of your peers and advisor for twenty minutes straight. Twenty minutes where Akaashi Keiji sits in the back of the room and undresses you with his eyes. His long, dark eyelashes flutter as his gaze travels across your body, and his bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth without hesitation. His head tilts this way and that, giving him the angles he needs to ogle you.

A few seconds on the hem of your skirt, giving way to thighs that, when pressed together like that, hide the marks he’d left only the night before. A few seconds on your throat, because, if he strains his eyes enough, he can see the traces of himself there, purple and slathered in concealer. A few seconds on the buttons of your blouse, the same buttons you’d had to sew back into your shirt because he’d accidentally ripped them off in his rush to undress you last week.

But maybe that’s your fault for wearing one of your roleplay blouses to campus that day. Maybe you’d done it on purpose. Maybe, over the last two weeks, you’d come to anticipate the shiver of nerves that would run down your spine when your day to present would come back around. Maybe you’d started to look forward to the way he would inevitably grill you with questions after spending twenty minutes flustering you, because – as you’d come to learn – Akaashi Keiji’s preferred form of foreplay had always been psychological.

Maybe that’s what you get for choosing him.

Maybe that’s why you’d choose him again in a heartbeat.

It takes too long to notice that other people are starting to see it, too. That, when Bokuto digs through your fridge and holds up a container of kung pao chicken in confusion, your stuttered excuse of having Akaashi over to grade exams together hadn’t passed over with Kuroo as well as you’d hoped. That, when Akaashi beckons you away from lunch to go to Syntax lecture together, Tsukishima’s eyes follow you out of the dining hall, watching you two walk closer together than usual. That, at Bokuto’s parties, Yachi had started to realize that Akaashi was careful with her personal space on that couch, but not yours.

It takes too long to notice those things, for both of you. Because you’re both too busy noticing each other.

At night, Akaashi doesn’t text you anymore. He just logs on to xxxvids .com and pings you, no matter how many times you tell him to stop being weird. He pings you there and takes up most of the time you could be spending responding to other messages, talking about absurdly normal things like grading and dissertation progress. It adds to the suspended disbelief, and you think that maybe you both know it. He always drops a five-star review at the end, and, after a week of it, he starts gifting you the in-chat badges and stickers that cost money. He sends them without hesitation, the money adding up so quickly that you start to threaten to block him.

‘You won’t block me,’ he always messages back. ‘You like my attention too much.’

You hate how well he knows you.

So you start to text him your solo videos before you post them. Because you know him, too. Because you know that all you have to do is attach a cheeky message – ‘since you liked it so much the first time ;)’ – before he comes running, your phone ringing angrily every time.

‘You better cut it out,’ he always says.

‘What’re you gonna do, punish me?’, you say. Because you know that he will.

You know that Akaashi will always give you what you want, no matter how far you push his limits outside of the bedroom. Because as long as you give him what he needs when it matters, he’ll do just the same.

That understanding becomes real in ways you hadn’t predicted, much too soon.

–

Keiji tugs on the collar of his turtleneck in annoyance, the fabric rubbing against his skin in a way that irritates him. He passes through the mass of people in the dining hall, grimacing when his shirt sticks to his skin, the heat a bit unbearable.

It’s still too warm out to be wearing something so clearly meant for winter, but he’d been in a rush this morning, and he hadn’t had time to cover up the hickies you’d left on him two nights ago. He’d cursed you and your family line when he’d spotted the marks in the mirror, because he certainly did not have time to cover them up with the concealer you’d bought him. He’d picked out the first high-neck item he could find in his closet, which just so happened to be this awful wool sweater that’s heavenly in the cold and absolute hell any other time.

You’re already at the table with Bokuto when he finds you, and he sees your eyes drop to his neck. Your eyebrows go up with interest, and you’re hiding a smirk, because you know exactly why he would ever have chosen such a bad outfit for today’s weather. He sits with a sigh, his loudly clattering tray one of the many micro-decisions he’s making to let out his irritation today.

“Hi, Bokuto,” he says quietly, only acknowledging you with a nod of his head. You nod back, seeing when he rolls his eyes subtly at you. It makes you smile, so you turn it on Bokuto, because that’s more natural than smiling at Keiji.

“Kou, have you heard back from the Expo?” you ask, giving the larger man all your attention. Keiji’s eye twitches slightly, and he digs into his lunch, trying not to let you see. But he knows you have, because you always do.

Sometime in the last two weeks, you’d picked up on the way his shoulders tense when you talk to Bokuto, on the way his jaw clenches and unclenches when you touch him. On the way he’s just that much meaner in bed afterward.

He’s not stupid enough to believe he’s not a little bit possessive. He’d felt it enough times over the last few days.

It always starts with an annoyance that strums in his veins when his best friend hugs you – because there’s a heat map on your body that only Keiji can see, one that shows him all the places he’d put his hands the last time he’d fucked you. And he has to sit there and watch Bokuto’s hands cover it all up.

It’s worse when Bokuto lingers, friendly and unassuming, in your personal space, because Keiji knows you won’t smell like you afterward. He always tenses when it’s not your perfume in his nose when you pass him by. His mind goes blank when it’s Bokuto’s cologne instead, stronger than his own and not at all suited to your skin.

It always leaves him feeling like a fucking dog, overcome with some strange urge to pull you close – in public or otherwise – and drown you in things that smell like him. His cologne, his shirts, his coat, he doesn’t fucking care. It irritates him. And you’d noticed.

Of course you’d noticed – because you’re annoying like that. You’re annoying enough to feed into it, giving Bokuto extra smiles and extra sweetness when Keiji’s around, because you know that, the next time you’re alone with him, Keiji will make you cry and beg for forgiveness.

And it doesn’t matter how many times he reminds himself that it’s not his business to be jealous. It’s not his business to be possessive, because there’s nothing for him to be possessive about. You’re not his.

But you lean into it. So he does, too.

You lean into it now, touching your fingers down on Bokuto’s arm when you ask him about the conference. It starts on Friday, and the results still aren’t out yet. It’s concerning, enough that it’s made everyone more high-strung than usual – conference results coming out with less than a week for speakers to prepare is unheard of.

But Keiji’s not thinking about that. He’s thinking about the fingers you have on Bokuto’s wrist, wondering if you remember that, two nights ago, you had those fingers wrapped around his-

“No, I haven’t!” Bokuto exclaims, snapping Keiji out of his growing frustration. “It’s so weird and annoying! Have you?”

You shake your head, pouting slightly, and Keiji’s rice spoon shakes in his clenched fist. He’s really not in the space to do this today.

“We haven’t, no. Our advisor’s starting to get a little pissed,” you say in faux contemplation. You press one fingertip to your bottom lip and tap thoughtfully a few times. Keiji wonders if it’d be okay for him to throw himself across this table and tackle you.

When your eyes slide to his, catty and challenging, he loses his mind.

Dropping his spoon in the metal bowl with a jarring clang, he leans back, sighing performatively. “God, I think I chose the wrong outfit for today.”

Bokuto looks him over, nodding enthusiastically, but Keiji keeps his eyes locked on yours. You know to be wary of him, at least – your eyes narrow, and his even out, your challenge accepted.

“Yeah, dude, you really did. It’s way too hot to-” Bokuto goes quiet, staring. His eyes are locked on the place where Keiji has a finger hooked into his collar and is tugging it down, presumably to air out his warm neck.

His warm neck, where there are some rather you-shaped love bites marking his skin.

Your face drops, mouth hanging open and eyes wide as you stare at him. Keiji doesn’t react, because Bokuto’s looking at him, not you, but he does turn his gaze on his friend and tug on the collar a few more times with a relieved sigh.

“So hot in here. I made a mistake.”

“Dude.” Bokuto stares, open-mouthed, and then reaches for him, yanking the collar all the way down and exposing Keiji’s hickies completely. “Have you been sleeping with someone?!”

Keiji stares you dead in the eyes when he says–

“Just someone from my department.” He watches your gaze turn deadly, and he smiles politely at the glare you shoot him, turning back to his friend. “I don’t think you’d know her. It’s really casual.”

Bokuto immediately turns to you, and you fix your expression with impressive speed.

“Do you know who it is?” he asks excitedly, practically vibrating in his seat. “Y/n, please tell me you know who it is. Please, please, please-”

“Uh-” you stutter, laughing nervously and shaking your head. “Our department’s pretty big, Kou. And I’m not really in the habit of getting in Akaashi’s business.”

It’s a solid save, Keiji will give you that. But he can’t help but smirk, because he can tell you’re not going to be letting this one go any time soon.

“Um, but-” He plasters an embarrassed grin on his face, nudging Bokuto in a way that’s meant to be sheepish. “We’re keeping it kinda quiet, okay? So don’t tell anyone?”

The man’s eyes go wide, and he’s nodding very solemnly. “Yeah, I totally get it. I won’t say anything!”

Your chair screeches when you push it back, standing to full height. Keiji watches you with disinterest.

“I just remembered,” you say through gritted teeth. “We were supposed to go over that handout before lecture. Should we go?”

Keiji just lifts his brows and looks down at his lunch. “I’m still eating.”

Your nostrils flare, and a rush of excitement flies down his spine. Picking up your bag, you smile sweetly down at Bokuto. “Sorry, Kou. Let’s get dinner tonight?”

Keiji can’t wait to get you alone.

He and Bokuto watch you go, Bokuto waving and yelling ‘see you tonight!’ across the crowded room. Keiji eats his meal silently, watching when Kuroo, Tsukishima, and Yachi break through the mass of bodies and make their way over to the table. The two men are stealing glances at each other as they walk, but Keiji’s learned that if he minds his own business, then Tsukishima tends to do the same.

And it’s important to him that Tsukishima does the same.

“Was that Y/n we just saw?” Kuroo asks as he sets his tray down. Bokuto nods bouncily.

“She said something about a handout that she and Akaashi need to go over.” He looks down at Keiji, who’s stuffing his mouth full of food at record speed. “Shouldn’t you go with her?”

Keiji nods, cheeks stretched to their limits as he tries to swallow it all. “Mhm,” he says, grimacing as the food goes down and then shoveling more in. He picks up his bag as he’s still eating, swinging it over his shoulder and snatching his tray up. “Gotta go-” He chokes a bit, barely recovering as he’s waving goodbye over his shoulder. He feels Tsukishima’s eyes on him for only a moment before the sensation passes, and he’s grateful he and the blond have come to a silent agreement.

He makes a beeline for the door, all but bursting out in a run as soon as he hits the sidewalk. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he yanks it out, heart pounding at the thought that it’s you.

[2:38PM]

Bokuto: DONT WORRY AKAAAASHI!!!

Bokuto: I WONT TELL ANYONE ABOUT YOUR SECRET SITUATIONSHIP!!!

Keiji laughs to himself, pocketing the phone again as he heads straight for the Linguistics building.

He only makes it to the corner before he’s being dragged around the side of the dining hall and slammed against the brick wall.

“You asshole-”

He closes his eyes and laughs, your voice washing over him in a giddy wave. “This doesn’t look much like a Syntax handout-”

“You told him.” You lean in close, and he meets your eyes with ease, the grin tugging at his lips satisfied.

“No, I didn’t,” he says. “I told him I’m fucking a girl in my department. It could be anyone.”

“He’s gonna figure out it’s me-”

Keiji takes your face in his hand, squeezing tight and pulling you close, not unlike the way he’d done it in the stairwell two weeks ago. There’s something about the way you’d said it – like you really don’t want Bokuto Koutarou to find out you’re hooking up with him – that makes him angry. Irrationally so, because it’s not his place to be angry at all. But still, he grabs you. He grabs you, and then he turns you around, pushing you up against the wall with his body.

“You wanna play with me, Freak?” he mumbles, his voice cold as he stares down at you. “You wanna flirt and touch and smile at him like that when I’m around?” Your eyes are heated, so different from his own, and he wonders if you realize that it turns him on when you look at him like this. He leans down, close enough that he watches your eyes drop to his lips in a slight panic, because every breath you let out passes through his lungs next.

He hopes you feel it in yours when he whispers, “Then I’m gonna play with you, too.”

Your gaze hardens on his, but he’d felt the shiver of anticipation that had just wracked your body. It eggs him on, makes him want to do worse.

“If you wanted to fuck Bokuto, you should have asked him instead,” he says, his voice hard. “But you asked me. Not him.”

Your eyes flick between his, and then your gaze clears of its anger. Keiji’s brow furrows.

“You’re jealous,” you whisper, amazement coating your words and sticking to him like honey. He scoffs, shaking his head.

“I’m not fucking jealous-”

“You’re so fucking jealous, Akaashi-”

“Y/n,” he growls, pushing you up harder against the wall, but you just stare up at him, a wild look in your eye that makes him completely and utterly nervous. “I’m not jealous.”

“Well, you’re something,” you breathe, the smile on your face unable to be stopped, even with the way he’s squeezing your cheeks together. “What’s wrong, huh? Worried I might not just be yours to play with?”

His veins run cold, and there’s a terrifyingly significant part of him that wants to take you right here, just to prove a point. To make you scream right here, in public, so close to the dining hall where anyone – maybe even someone in particular – might pass by and discover you. It makes him crazy.

You make him crazy.

“If you fuck anyone else–” he whispers, cold and hard and laced with a threat. “–then this is over. You hear me, Y/n?”

He thinks you’re going to be angry. He’s saying something completely irrational. He’s being possessive and gross and terrible, and you should be angry with him. It’s not his place – none of this is his place. You can fuck whoever you want to. It was unspoken that there would be no one else, but it was never part of the rules. You should be kicking and screaming and fighting him with everything you’ve got.

But you don’t.

“I hear you, Akaashi,” you just breathe, staring up at him with wide, twinkling eyes. You look excited, like you’d been waiting to bring this out of him. Like you’d wanted this from him, because there wouldn’t be any other reason that you would–

Keiji blinks, realization filling him. “You… aren’t attracted to Bokuto, are you?”

You grin wide, evil and wicked as you search his eyes. “God, you’re possessive.”

He wants to crawl into a hole and die.

–

You don’t see Akaashi again until Tuesday morning. He’d sat through Syntax lecture the day before with his head in his hand, ears burning and phone buzzing uselessly in his pocket with the teasing texts that you were sending him. He hadn’t checked his phone once, because he could see you typing and, based on the shit-eating grin on your face, they weren’t texts that he was safe to check in public. He’d booked it from the lecture hall the moment your advisor had stepped away from the podium, and he hadn’t answered any of your calls. At some point he’d just turned his phone off, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be worried about it, because, like clockwork, he’d pinged you online.

[9:07 PM]

tokyohandsome: i hate you.

tokyohandsome: youre the worst thing thats ever happened to me.

You’d just sent him another text to his phone, a voice note of you laughing and asking if he would still give you five stars even if you don’t message him back. He does exactly that, and then he texts you back – a middle finger emoji.

You look forward to seeing him on Tuesday, but every thought of Akaashi Keiji leaves you when you check your email in the morning.

[06:22 AM] Notification of Conference Acceptance – Poster Presentation

You stare at the email, a mix of excitement and dread swirling in your gut. You’d gotten in. You’d gotten into the conference. A poster presentation isn’t as much of an achievement as a full talk – you’d have to stand around in the poster session for an hour just talking to whoever would be willing to drop by and listen for a few minutes, instead of having the attention of a dedicated audience for twenty minutes plus a Q&A session – but an acceptance is an acceptance. It’s an accomplishment and a point of pride to be accepted to conferences, especially to one like Ling Expo.

Ling Expo, which starts in three days.

Three days to make a poster, with teaching responsibilities, pilot data to analyze, and a dissertation chapter due to your advisor tomorrow afternoon.

Right. Okay, then. Time to get to it.

–

You don’t think you’ve ever had a day quite this bad before. It’s barely 11am, the LEM meeting something that you’d consider a break right now, and you feel like you’ve been put through hell. You’d spent the morning analyzing data and trying not to cry when your code for the analysis had returned an error message for the sixteenth time. You’d gone through your advisor’s comments on your last chapter draft, trying not to cry again when you’d seen the major revisions he’d left in the margins for the section you haven’t done yet. And then you’d taught your Semantics class, trying not to cry again when someone had asked a question that you’d just answered four minutes prior.

By the time you flop down at the round table in the lab room, your head is screaming and you’re about one minor inconvenience from sobbing in front of everyone.

When Akaashi silently sets a steaming hot latte down in front of you, you think you might start sobbing anyway.

You look up at him, eyes wide and bloodshot. You don’t see that everyone else is looking at him too, the whole room falling silent as they watch him act out of character. “Why?”

He doesn’t look much better than you. “Poster or talk?”

You blink. You hadn’t told him you’d been accepted. “Poster.”

He smiles, not like he’s proud of you but like he’s satisfied that he’d been right. “I got a talk.”

The room relaxes – he’s just gloating. Your advisor laughs low next to you, almost like he’s relieved that the universe isn’t turning on an odd new axis. But you keep your eyes on Akaashi’s, because you can see he’d meant it for what it really is.

He’s checking on you.

He takes the seat on the other side of your advisor, and you hear him breathe a sigh of relief when he sips from his coffee. You try yours, feeling your life come back to you just a little bit.

Your advisor casts a look around the room, clearing his throat as he surveys you all.

“Based on the varying states of despair I’m seeing, we got a few acceptances to Ling Expo.”

The group of you laugh, and you feel that interesting wave of camaraderie fall over you that always comes around the time of this conference. That reminder that, even if you’re all different people working on different research, you’re just a group of twenty-somethings who landed in the same school, in the same department, working for the same advisor at the same time.

At the finish line, you’ll be vying for the same jobs – the same research positions, the same professorships, the same industry careers. But for now – for one weekend a year – the ten of you in this room represent the man at the head of the table, and, as brutal and unrelenting as he can be, there’s a reason it’s his lab group that gets invited to the biggest conference in Japan every year.

There’s a piece of you that’s glad that things between you and Akaashi had smoothed out this year – that, even if you still wage an academic war with him every chance you get, things between you will be different this weekend. Because, of the ten of you, there are exactly two PhD candidates in the room. Only two who will be watched above the rest, because only two are on the job market at this very moment, their competence on display in front of the brightest linguists in the country.

Two, who sit on either side of the head of the table at this very moment.

The stress comes down on your chest harder than before.

“I know it’s really short-notice,” your advisor says, shaking his head and staring down over his bifocals at his laptop screen. “The organizers have been a little scattered this year, but I guess it happens to the best of us.” And then he claps loudly, you and Akaashi flinching at the noise. “That said, they didn’t book enough rooms for everyone, so we’ll have to do some sharing.”

You nod emptily, too caught up in your mental to-do list for the rest of the day to really register what he’s said. It’s happened before, anyway – the larger, interdisciplinary conference always ends up drawing massive attendance records across all departments. You’d had to share a room two years ago, with a girl who works for one of the top three translation companies in the world now.

If you manage not to fuck up this weekend from the sheer lack of preparation, you might impress someone long enough to land a similar job.

Your mind lingers on that for the next few minutes, the pressure to represent your advisor well weighing down heavy on your shoulders. You should start your poster after this meeting – if you skip lunch, you might be able to finish it before the Syntax lecture. And – if you aren’t stopped for questions by students on the way out – you might be able to troubleshoot the data code for the rest of the day. You could probably afford to order takeout for dinner. That way you don’t have to waste time cooking, and you can even take a break afterward by hauling your stuff down to the coffee shop by your apartment and working there on the dissertation draft until morning. Oh, but there’s grading that needs to get done by Thursday night, and you won’t have time tomorrow-

“-eiji and Y/n. And I think that’s it.”

You blink, turning to your advisor. He’s already looking back at you, eyebrows raised.

“That is fine, right?” he says, smiling innocently. You hear the scattered snickers of your lab-mates, and you can only look over the man’s head at Akaashi. He’s staring back, eyes guarded and ears tinted pink.

Sharing a hotel room with Akaashi?

“What?” you say dumbly. “Sorry. I was doing damage control in my head for my workload.”

It eases Akaashi’s tension, his shoulders relaxing as he laughs with the rest of the room. Your advisor nudges you good-naturedly.

“You and Keiji are together for room placements,” he repeats. “I know it’s not ideal, but we’ve got an odd number of guys and girls, so we need one co-ed room.” He looks between you lazily, as though his logic had been obvious. “And you two know each other best, so…”

Somehow, Akaashi looks more guarded now.

You’re not sure you’re in a place mentally to unpack everything this man’s just said. So you just nod along, ignoring the look of surprise Akaashi gives you when you only mumble ‘yeah, that makes sense’.

“Great!” you advisor beams at you, returning to the rest of the group. “Now, about the presentation schedule-”

You tune out for the rest of the meeting, certain you must have fallen asleep with your eyes open, because Akaashi’s nudging your shoulder as he passes behind you on the way out. You blink, seeing that it’s already noon.

You rush to your office, barely hearing when there’s a knock at your door two hours later. A dark head pokes past, but you just keep your eyes locked on your double monitor setup, your fingers flying across the keyboard of your laptop as you fill in the text boxes of your poster.

“Y/n.” You just hum at the call of your name, watching the screen fill up with the literature review you’d boiled down to just a few bullet points. The dark head becomes a whole body, tall in the doorway of your office. “Y/n, it’s time for lunch.”

You blink, only pulling your eyes away from the screen because you’d filled in the whole section and could afford the break in your concentration. Akaashi’s at the door, staring down at you expectantly. When you don’t move to join him for lunch, his eyebrows go up.

“You have to eat.”

“Oh,” you say, shaking your head and going back to your screens. “I’m good. Too busy.”

“To eat?”

“To eat.”

He sighs hard. “Are you going to lecture after?”

You nod absentmindedly. “Have to. ‘s my job.”

“And you’re not going to eat?”

“Akaashi,” you say with a distressed laugh, turning to him again. “Please. You’re killing my concentration.” You gesture generally to the door. “If you don’t go eat soon, you’ll be late to lecture.”

He only steps further into the room, glancing out into the hall before shutting the door behind him. When he rounds your desk, it’s to examine what you’re working on. You recognize that, only weeks ago, you would never have let Akaashi Keiji see the state of your workspace.

But now, you just let his eyes fly across your laptop and monitor, too tired to do much more than lean back in your chair with a sigh. You’ve got the poster template up on your big monitor, zoomed in to the 300% mark so you can fill out the boxes. Your laptop screen is split in two, one side filled with a previous version of your talk slides and the other taken up by your dissertation chapter, the glaring red strikethroughs and lengthy comments left by your advisor popping out against the text.

He doesn’t comment on the state of your draft — on the mistakes and lack of understanding, on your flaws as a researcher, your places of improvement. He doesn’t comment on all the ways you don’t match up to him, even though the difference between your poster presentation and his talk presentation speak loud enough for both of you.

He doesn’t comment on your shortcomings or the state of your stress, loud and angry and visible in everything about you. He just sighs and crosses his arms and says —

“Do you want to cancel tonight?”

Your blood runs cold.

You forgot he’s supposed to come over tonight. You didn’t count him in your schedule.

Still, the idea of not seeing him makes you feel weird.

You don’t look up from your screen. “Only if you’ve got too much going on.”

You leave it up to him. You want him to say he’s free, that he doesn’t want to cancel. You don’t want to cancel, even though the extra five hours would probably save you from drowning just a little bit. But you don’t want to tell him that — you don’t want to tell him that the thought of him cancelling makes your stomach hurt and your chest twinge with disappointment. You don’t want to show him that you’d rather throw yourself into worse stress tomorrow rather than giving yourself more time tonight.

You don’t want him to see how badly you want to see him tonight.

“I’ve got time tonight,” he says quietly, and you don’t turn to look at him, even though you really want to. Even though you can hear that there’s more in his voice than the words he’d said. Because you know he doesn’t have time, either.

“Okay,” you say, nodding once and then sitting up to return to your poster. “If you don’t go eat now, you’ll be late to Syntax.”

He leaves without another word.

When you join him in lecture, he drops a banana and a protein shake in your lap. You eat silently, swallowing over the lump in your throat.

–

Something’s not right.

By all counts, everything is fine. Everything’s as it should be. Akaashi has one hand planted firmly on your bare waist, the other locked tight around both your wrists as he keeps them pressed to your stomach. It feels good, the way he’s pushing his hips into yours – it always feels good. Never once has sex with Akaashi not felt good.

But now – even as your back is arching against the mattress and your legs are spreading further to let him in, the silence filled with the sound of your breathless pants mixing with his – something’s not right.

It’s not him that’s not right.

But it is.

It’s the way he’s staring down at you, cyan eyes cold and detached. It’s not new, and normally it works wonders for you. Normally, it plucks at a strand of pleasurable desperation in your soul, one that wants to please him and give him anything he wants, even when he doesn’t tell you what it is.

Tonight, that strand is plucked over and over, harder and faster until it’s wound tight. Tight enough to snap, because the way Akaashi Keiji’s disinterest is pulling at you is starting to hurt.

“What’s with you, huh?” he mumbles, half-distracted as his eyes roam your body and linger on how your breasts bounce when he thrusts hard into you. “You’re not so bratty tonight. You losing interest?”

You shake your head, the string pulling at your spine. “No, it’s not-”

“If you’re losing interest-” he starts, cyan eyes snapping to yours. Filling with looming disappointment, like you’re not doing enough for him tonight. Like you’re not doing enough to keep him here. “-then I’ll lose interest, too.”

You’re not enough.

You feel your face twist before you can stop it, brows pinching together hard and eyes squeezing shut. Your mouth drags down in a deep frown, and your chest stutters as you try to keep a sob in, your eyes burning with tears all at once.

“‘m sorry,” you gasp, wanting to hide behind your hands but finding them trapped in Akaashi’s grasp. “I’ll try harder, I promise-” You cut off, body jerking as you sob, tears hot and angry as they fall down your cheeks. Your nerves are frayed, shocking and sparking at your skin and forcing every new sob to the surface. Your breath comes short, and you can’t find more no matter how hard you look for it.

You notice too late that Akaashi’s stopped moving.

You want to play it off, want to feed into his dacryphilia, if only to save face. “I can do better, baby-” you try, but it comes out weak and pathetic. Covered in the kind of tears that couldn’t possibly do much for him. “Just tell me what to do-”

“Y/n.”

You gasp, not expecting the hard edge of his voice or the sound of your name. Your eyes fly open, vision blurry and eyes stinging. He’s staring down at you, his own gaze full of alarm. “What’s your color right now?”

Your chest caves in.

“Yellow,” you cry, shaking your head and tugging at the restraint on your wrists. He lets you go, and you slap your hands down over your face, crying hard. “Yellow, it’s yellow-”

It’s red.

But you don’t want him to think it’s because of him – it’s not because of him, and you know that. You know, even in your anguish, that it’s because of how stressed you are. You can feel it in the cruel voice that taunts you, whispering that you’re not enough. Not enough for this program, not enough for your advisor, not enough for your dissertation or the field or anything else that you absolutely need to be enough for.

You’re not enough for Akaashi, either, but that’s not his fault. He hasn’t done a single thing wrong.

So you tell him your color is yellow.

But he hears it for what it is.

Hears you for what you mean, even when you don’t say it.

You sob when he pulls out of you, because you don’t feel like you’re enough to keep him here, but you don’t try to convince him to stay. You just cry into your hands, your frayed edges made more jagged by the wail of your own voice, viciously loud and echoing off the walls as you curl up in place and let the sobs wrack your body.

You hear him moving around the room, hear him swear under his breath, hear your phone hit the bedside table. And then the mattress moves, shifting with his weight as he clambers back over you.

“Hey.” His hands find your biceps, palms steady and warm on you. He pulls you up, and you let him move your body however he wants. You just cry, embarrassed and hurting and wanting so desperately for this whole thing to be over. “Come here-” He lifts you into his lap, maneuvering you until you’re sitting chest to chest with him, legs wrapped around his waist.

You throw your arms around his neck and press your body to his, crying loudly into the crook of his neck. His chest is warm against yours, and you can feel the fabric of his boxers sliding against your thighs. And his arms are strong and anchoring, belting around your waist and pulling you as close to him as you can physically be.

Akaashi Keiji feels safe, and you so very badly want him to stay.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, face hidden in his neck. “I’m so sorry - you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s okay,” he says, and you feel him speak more than anything else, his voice low and vibrating in his chest and in yours. He’s pulling the comforter around you both, and you’re safer still, wrapped up in this little bubble with him. “It’s okay. I was too mean tonight-”

“No, you weren’t!” you argue, angry with yourself for making him doubt this. “You weren’t too mean – everything was fine-”

“Y/n, you’re crying in my arms right now,” he jokes, but his hold on you never falters. He only pulls you closer.

“But it wasn’t you,” you say, shaking your head against him. His throat is warm, and you can feel his heartbeat on your cheek. It pulses hard with anxiety, and you hate that you’ve done that to him. “It was everything else, I’m just-” Your tears are still flowing, but your chest doesn’t hurt so much. Your breath is easier to find. “I’m just not in a good place tonight.”

“I know,” he mutters. You feel his lips pass over your shoulder. “I know you’re not, but I still wasn’t nice enough. I should have been nicer.” His mouth is warm as it pushes gently against your skin. “I should have read you better,” he whispers.

“That’s not your responsibility,” you protest weakly. But his fingers are drawing warm shapes in your back, and you’re coming down from your peak of stress-crying, and all you feel now is extreme exhaustion.

“Yes, it is,” he breathes with finality. His lips are against your ear now, and his breath is sending waves of shivers down your spine – it usually sets you on edge, but in this moment it calms you, the feeling of him pressed against you completely as he whispers in your ear. “I have to know how to read you – how to know what you need from me.”

Your brain, worn and frayed, likes the sound of that.

“Okay.”

He stays quiet for a moment – mere seconds where he sits completely still with you in his arms. Where your chest presses firmly against his, your heartbeat slowing to match his, and then both of them slowing together, back to normal. Where your face presses to his skin, and his face presses to yours, the two of you breathing in time.

The thing that had slid into place and locked tight all those weeks ago �� when you looked into Akaashi Keiji’s eyes the first time you’d slept together, the first time you’d gone over the edge with cyan in your mind – rattles now, chains jangling against your spine and pushing hard behind your ribcage. In the spot where your soul sits.

“Okay,” he says.

And then he stands, taking you with him. He wraps you up in the comforter and takes you, completely naked and wrapped around him like that’s all you know how to do, out of the room and into the living room. He pads through the room with you obstructing him in every way, and he does it with ease, pushing his way into your pantry and snatching the box of pop-tarts off the middle shelf.

He drops the box haphazardly on the coffee table and takes a seat on the couch, careful not to hurt you but still rough – certain and final – about the way he turns you in his lap. You sit with your back against his chest, swaddled and a little confused but otherwise allowing him to do as he pleases in any way he pleases. Your mind is too hazy to make any decisions, too cloudy to question his. Your brain is too hot, the jagged edges of your judgment too muddled and eroded away for you to do anything except trust him.

You leave your life and your body in Akaashi Keiji’s hands, because it’s Akaashi Keiji who knows what to do with them.

When he turns on the nature channel silently and comments ‘series about whales today’ with a half-interested hum, you start to cry in your hands again. He lets you, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin the only indication that he’s got his attention wholly on you.

He takes one hand off of you after a moment, only to hand you a pack of strawberry pop-tarts. And then to pick up his phone, previously discarded on the cushion. You watch through strawberry pop-tart and blurry vision as he orders Chinese food – wonton soup and two orders of dumplings.

Comfort food.

You cry harder, one hand clasped over your mouth as you listen to the narrator talk about whale migration. When Akaashi’s done ordering, he tosses his phone down and pulls you close again, letting you turn halfway so you can bury your face in his neck.

“Ready to talk?” he mumbles, soft and coaxing. You’ve never heard him speak to you like that before.

“Just stressed,” you whisper weakly, unable to give him more. Too tired to say more.

His thumb pushes warmly against your hip on its path around the circle. “Ling Expo?”

You nod. “Dissertation, too.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding once. “I saw his comments on your draft. Er–” He laughs lamely. “The size of the comments, rather.”

You don’t respond. You know he’s further along in his dissertation than you are – he’s probably past the point of major foundational issues. It feels like you’ll never get there.

“Just feels like nothing I do is good enough.”

You don’t question why you tell him that. You just recognize that you’re comfortable enough to.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just nodding and keeping his eyes on the TV while he runs his thumb across your skin.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he finally says. You keep quiet, curled up against him and wondering where this is going. “I feel like you know that,” he adds. “But I just… thought I should make it clear.” His fingers find your hair, tangling tight and pulling you away with a firm hand so he can look at you. His nose brushes yours while he flicks his eyes between yours, searching you. Reading you. And then he shakes his head.

“I didn’t mean what I said. About losing interest.”

You’re enough for me.

Your throat tightens and your eyes well up, and his mouth is tugging into the ghost of a smile. “Don’t cry again,” he whispers.

“I’m gonna cry again,” is all you say.

He’s kind enough to let you hide your face from him again before you do.

When he has to go downstairs to get the food, there’s a hole gnawing at the center of your chest.

That’s new.

You sit in silence, wrapped up in blankets and staring emptily at the TV. Thinking about the anxious knot in your stomach – about the angry tug of emotion in your throat, threatening to force tears into your eyes again.

When Akaashi slips back through your front door, the knot eases and the emotion mellows out.

That’s definitely new.

You eat in silence while staring at the TV – you in your swaddle and Akaashi in the jeans and hoodie he’d been wearing earlier – and then you stare at the TV some more, your mind turning over and over on itself as you try to figure out where this feeling had come from. The one that needs him.

After an hour, he says something quietly about getting home. You just apologize for cutting the filming short, and he offers to come over tomorrow. Your chest pulses with unplaced emotion.

He leaves.

You sit on your couch and stare at nothing, the TV off now.

The knot is tight and making you nauseous. The emotion is rolling up into a painful lump in your throat. Your eyes burn with tears that won’t fall.

–

Keiji sighs and pulls his fingers through his hair, tugging tight and searching the shelves of the convenience store.

He doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. There’s nothing in this store that will make you feel better. He keeps picking random shit up – cookies, chips, snacks that he thinks you might like – and putting them back, uselessly trying to find something to ease your stress just a little bit. The clerk at the front is starting to stare at him, a bored teenager with judgmental eyes watching him be indecisive in the middle of the store.

He feels like throwing up. His head is hot and there’s an irritated pull in his gut, like he’s forgotten something. He keeps closing his eyes, willing it to go away, but every stupid snack he picks up and puts back down – a claw-machine stuck on repeat – makes the feeling worse.

He picks up a can of coffee. Stares down at the label. Puts it back.

You only drink almond milk.

He needs to get home and shower, to use the rest of the night to work on the slide deck for his Ling Expo talk.

He walks one aisle over and surveys the sweets again. Picks up a package of cookies. Stares down at the label. Puts it back.

You like oatmeal, not oatmeal raisin.

He needs to grade and work on his dissertation chapter.

Over to the far wall, the last shelf before the freezers. Picks up a bag of chips. Stares down at the label. Puts it back.

You don’t like this brand of shrimp chips.

There are a million things he needs to do.

His eyes drift slightly to the right, to the pints of ice cream lined up behind the lightly frosted freezer door.

You do like cookies and cream.

He stares at it, at the label that stares back at him, and the tug in his gut yanks hard at his nausea.

He’s not going to get anything done like this.

Reaching over with an irritated sigh, he rips the door open and plucks the offending pint of ice cream off the shelf. He takes it to the clerk, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

“Girlfriend upset about somethin’?” the teenager asks.

Keiji doesn’t answer him, glaring down at the counter while he pays.

–

There’s a knock at your door thirty minutes after Akaashi leaves.

You’re curled up in the middle of your bed in oversized clothes when it comes, stomach turning as you try to sleep. Disappointment seeping through your skin, because you feel like something’s missing.

When the knock sounds, you turn in bed, surprised. You climb out slowly, padding through the apartment to the front door and peeking through the peephole.

Your heart sends a pulse of electricity through your whole body. You pull the door open, eyes wide.

“Akaashi?”

He stares down at you, lips pursed with frustration and ears tinted pink. He thrusts a hand out, a plastic bag dangling from his fingers.

“Here.”

You take it, peering inside. “Ice cream?”

“Yeah.”

You blink up at him. “Thank you?”

He just nods. You wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. He just lingers, staring down at nothing.

And then he takes a step toward you, and his eyes meet yours.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You let him in wordlessly. He sets his shoes neatly in your foyer before moving to his spot at the couch and dropping his bag right where it was half an hour ago. He turns to look at you, scratching awkwardly at the side of his head.

You almost miss the way his eyes flick toward your bedroom curiously and then down at your pajamas.

Your bedroom. Not the spare room.

Your eyes well up when you realize that he means to stay the night.

He exhales in disbelief, but you just cross the room in three strides and throw your body against his, arms wound around his neck and face lost in the collar of his hoodie.

He scoffs, even as his arms snake around your waist. “You’re such a crybaby,” he mutters, but any mockery he makes of you is overshadowed by the way he lifts you off your feet, pulling you closer. The bag falls from your hand, hitting the ground, and you wrap your thighs around him and lock your ankles behind his back.

He takes it as permission and carries you to your room without another word.

When he drops you to your mattress, it’s followed up by the shedding of his jeans and hoodie and the press of his body to yours, warm and safe and terribly confusing – because your body is used to this in a different room, in a different context. Not in your own bed, and not for any purpose that allows you to keep your clothes on.

But Akaashi just clambers toward you, hands rough on your body as he pulls you toward him. You hug him close, heartrate picking up when he throws himself between your thighs and wraps his arms tight around you, his face burning when he presses it to the crook of your neck.

You hold him like that, crying into his hair and feeling shivers race down your spine when he presses one kiss to your throat, and then another.

“Just go to sleep,” he whispers. “Everything’s fine. Just go to sleep.”

It takes you almost an hour to drift off, because your heart won’t calm down, but neither will his. It’s loud against your torso, and you can only imagine how annoying your own must be in his ears. You can only imagine how embarrassing your body’s being right now, because every brush of his lips against your skin makes your pulse beat just a little bit harder, and you know he can feel it.

You know he can feel it, but he keeps kissing you, anyway.

His heart skips against your body, too. But he keeps kissing you, anyway.

You’re asleep before you can piece together that the aching nausea and the disappointment under your skin have faded away.

–

You wake up on Wednesday morning without an alarm.

It’s weird, because you always need an alarm. You always set an alarm.

But there’s a shift in the mattress beside you, so you don’t need one today.

You turn, peeling one eye open and staring up at the man leaning against your headboard.

He hasn’t noticed you yet, because there’s a paper in his hand. A paper covered in sticky notes and highlighter and handwritten comments.

Your handwritten comments.

You watch him for a moment, watching the way he squints down at your comments and turns the pages this way and that so he can read the sideways ones better. His glasses sit on the end of his nose, and his hair is askew from sleep, pillow creases on his face and neck. The sunlight filters in through your sheer curtains in a way that makes his skin glow, but he sits in an otherwise dim room, not a single light in sight as he reads your thoughts on his work.

You blink groggily, and a thought crosses your mind – distant and strange – that it might be nice just to stay here like this. You, curled up in your comforter, watching Akaashi Keiji read quietly in the early morning light in your bed, shirtless and disheveled and entirely at peace with you.

You wonder if it would be too much to ask.

Akaashi sighs quietly and shakes his head at something you’d commented, and you can’t help but alert him that you’re awake.

“Somethin’ you don’t like?” you ask, watching him blink and turn to look down at you.

He sighs again, shaking the paper in his hand with slight frustration. “Why don’t you say any of this shit in LEM?” When you don’t answer, he shuffles through some previous sheets, searching the margins and then pointing. “Like this. Why didn’t you tell me that these counter-examples exist? This is important data.”

You smile to yourself, too sleepy to argue with him. “I was worried that you’d thought of it already and just hadn’t written it there. I didn’t want to look stupid bringing it up to you.”

He cuts you a glance. “I’ve never thought you looked stupid.”

“No?” you say, smiling when he rolls his eyes. “You talk to me like you think I might be.”

“I don’t,” he sighs. And then he gestures to something you’d scratched into the edges with massive red question marks. “I think you’re the only one in that room who could think of this.”

“You really think I’m smart?”

It’s a remnant of last night, that insecurity. You tell yourself that it has to be, that you wouldn’t be asking him something so vulnerable otherwise. It’s too personal, asking him to evaluate your intelligence when it’s the one thing you’re measured most critically on.

“Yeah,” he says plainly. Answering you plainly, like he’d never thought twice about it. “I do. And it pisses me off when you don’t.” He sighs again and then shuffles to the edge of the bed, waving the paper at you again. “I’m keeping this. I need it.”

The thought that he could ever need something from you makes your heart lodge uncomfortably in your throat. “Okay.”

“It’s 6:30,” he adds, standing and stretching his arms high above his head. You watch him, eyes lingering on his chest and the way his boxers slip under his hip bones when he lengthens his body like that. You tamper down the urge to put your mouth on those two spots, to press kisses there that taste like comfort and early morning. “Just so you know.”

“Okay,” you say again simply, wishing so dearly that you could just stay here. Knowing you could never ask him to stay here with you. “What time do you teach?”

“Nine.” He eyes you a moment, long enough for you to wonder if he’d seen you watching him wistfully. “I don’t have clothes here.”

“Oh.” The thought of him leaving makes your chest hurt. You recognize the feeling from last night. “Do you need to go back to your place?”

“Yeah.”

Oh.

You swallow, pushing away the odd, aching panic that’s rising in your chest. You don’t want him to leave.

Akaashi chews on his lip. You reach for your phone slowly, like you want him to stop you. “Do you want me to call you an Uber?” you ask.

“Sure.” He swallows, watching you a moment. “Do you-” You lift your eyes. He looks away. “Do you want to go with me?”

Your nerves sizzle and snap, but the anxiety is washed away instantly.

You don’t know what to do with these feelings.

“Okay,” you whisper, staring up at him with wide eyes. His eyes flick to yours nervously, and then his lashes flutter as he looks away.

“Okay. Get dressed.”

You listen, that strand of desperation plucking away at you in ways that it really shouldn’t.

Neither of you says anything about the pint of melted ice cream in your living room.

–

When Keiji shoulders his door open, it’s with a panicked glance around his apartment. He’s normally tidy, but this week has been especially difficult, and he doesn’t need you seeing the extent of his stress in the way he stops taking care of his space.

You stand awkwardly in the foyer, glancing around and then back at him. He’d noticed on the ride here that your face is more flushed than usual, that your eyes linger on him more than usual. He wonders if you feel the same strange need to be near him, or if there’s something else going on.

Because his eyes keep lingering on you, too.

He feels an itch under his skin, one that prickles and irritates him until he’s with you. He’d felt it this morning, when the threat of leaving your apartment without you had been on the edge of your conversation.

It had started last night, in that stupid convenience store.

Even now, as he ushers you into the room and gestures for you to sit on the couch, he feels weird about leaving the room. He’s only going to shower, for fuck’s sake. He needs to shower, because it’s already 7:15 and he still needs to prep for his class. But he lingers, rushing into the kitchen to make coffee in order to buy more time.

“You can raid my pantry if you want,” he calls from the coffee machine, hurriedly scooping coffee grounds into the basket. “You can eat whatever you want – it won’t take me long to get ready.”

“Okay,” you say, much closer than he’d expected. He turns, surprised, and finds you lingering at the entryway. Glancing at him and then away, flushing with embarrassment as you hover for no reason.

The thought that you hadn’t even wanted to be a room away from him makes Keiji’s skin burn with desire.

Something’s off. Something’s new, and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

You drift past him into the room, opening cabinets at random and peering inside with blank curiosity. Peering inside this little piece of his life, not necessarily searching for anything in particular but curious all the same. Keiji’s chest swells with emotion – a need to be nearer to you, closer to you than this.

He feels insane.

He shouldn’t need you the way he does.

You open the pantry door, leaning halfway inside as you poke around. “‘s really neat in here. Only you would be this neat.”

He’s got his hands on your waist before he can process that he’d crossed the room.

You gasp, eyes wide as he spins you around. “What-”

He shuts the door to the pantry by pinning you against it. Your breathing picks up when he presses flush to you, but your fingers are in his hair regardless. Your body opens up for him regardless, welcoming and familiar and trusting.

He wants to ruin you for anyone who’s not him.

Keiji drops his mouth to your throat, pushing his lips hard to the pulse point and breathing you in. You shiver, your head dropping back against the door. He tugs your hips against his to make a point – a point he probably shouldn’t make.

“‘Kaashi-” you gasp, and his entire body lights up with dangerously frayed nerves, the knot in his chest sparking and hissing with the threat of worse.

He doesn’t feel close enough to you. He wants more.

Your fingers tug through his hair hard, and he groans quietly against your neck. He feels when your skin warms, feels when your fingers start to tremble. He’s making you nervous, nervous enough to shake in his arms.

It’s a dangerous realization, the fact that he can make you feel this way.

He knows that once you figure him out, too – because you will – he’ll be done for.

“Akaashi, we can’t,” you whisper.

He hadn’t considered fucking you in his apartment, but the fact that you had makes him want to cancel his class and keep you here all day.

“I know,” he breathes, his head spinning and his face radiating heat against your skin. “I know, I just-” He sighs hard. “Fuck.”

There’s a low noise that climbs up your throat, one that he feels more than hears, and a part of him – the irrational part that wants to fuck you against this pantry door right now – wants to ask if you want to shower with him.

God, he doesn’t want to be apart from you, not even for that.

“You have to shower,” you mumble quietly, like you’re reading his mind and coaxing him gently away from the thought. He hopes that you’re coaxing yourself away, too.

“Okay,” he says, swallowing hard. He doesn’t want to let go – especially since you’re not letting go, either. “Okay. I should go.”

“You should go.”

He’s not convinced.

“I should go,” he says again, a little stronger. Stronger, because his hands are slipping under the hem of your shirt and pulling you closer instead of pushing you away.

“You should go, Akaashi,” you say, too, but it’s weaker this time. You’re weak to him – weak for him.

He’s so fucked.

“Y/n,” he breathes, a warning inlaid and his pleas embarrassingly audible. Begging you to be strong with him, because he can’t do it on his own.

Your fingers slip out of his hair and clamp down on his shoulders, and you manage to peel him off of you. “Akaashi,” you say, your tone wavering but sharper than before. You’re trying. “You have to shower. We’re gonna be late.”

He meets your eyes and regrets it instantly, that swimming feeling filling his head and his face burning that uncomfortable, sticky hot again.

“Yeah,” he whispers shakily, swallowing hard. “You’re right. I have to go.”

Your eyes drop to his lips, filling with a yearning that’s painfully clear for him to see.

Fuck.

He pushes off of you, backing away quickly and scrubbing at his brow. “Yeah. You’re right,” he repeats, louder this time. It doesn’t help, the thought of kissing you slamming into him hard enough to make him dizzy. “You’re right.” He turns away, padding quickly out of the kitchen and leaving you in the kitchen. “I’ll be back.”

The time away from you doesn’t help clear his head.

He just spends it thinking about kissing you.

–

Akaashi’s acting as weird as you feel.

The walk to campus happens in silence. When you walk into your usual coffee shop together and immediately run straight into Yachi, he flushes hard and mutters something about ordering first before making a beeline for the counter. You know there’s nothing you could say to save that moment – not with Hitoka staring knowingly into your soul – so all you’re able to do is smile weakly and chat with her in line, three customers behind Akaashi. She doesn’t pry, and you wonder briefly if all of your friends can see what you and Akaashi are trying so hard to hide.

He keeps it up throughout the day. But so do you.

So do you, because the way he’d acted in his apartment – taking up your space like it’s his own, like he’s unable to do otherwise despite trying – makes you think it’s okay to feel this way. To feel like you need more, even if you’ve already taken too much.

In your office, finalizing your dissertation draft and sending it off to your advisor, your mind is muddled, drifting often to the office just across the hall and the man sitting just inside. Your head is staticky, fuzzy, and you have to fight not to go over there. You have to fight, because half of you feels like you’ll be able to concentrate better on your work if he’s around, but the other half of you knows there’s no chance in hell of getting anything done if he’s in the same room.

It turns out there’s no need to fight, because he makes a decision for you.

A knock comes to your door an hour before lunch, the silhouette on the other side of the frosted glass all too familiar.

The way he drags his eyes over your form when he walks in and then glances back into the hall with his bottom lip caught between his teeth makes you shiver visibly. He sees it – you know he does, because his eyes fly right back to you, heated and examining. Like he’s looking for something.

When he mumbles ‘change of scenery’ under his breath and then crosses the room to fold into the chair on the other side of your desk with his laptop, you know he’s found it. The two of you don’t speak, but you can feel him watching you while you work, and you’re moving with a slight wobble in your step by the time you head to the dining hall.

At lunch, he sits right across from you, in Bokuto’s usual spot. You don’t say anything about it, not wanting to draw attention. Not wanting him to know how much you notice him.

You don’t say anything about the way he presses his knee between your legs, either. It shakes you to your core, that gentle nudge of his knee against the inside of yours. Your body sparks with nerves, but you don’t say anything, because he’s still talking to Tsukishima about jobs as if he hasn’t just rattled you of your ability to act normal at lunch.

You say nothing, just letting his body heat nestle between your knees and trying your best not to burn at the feeling. His eyes flick to yours just briefly enough to mean nothing to everyone else – but it means everything to you, because he drops his gaze to your mouth before he looks away, and suddenly you’re back in his apartment, pushed against his pantry door with his mouth less than a breath’s distance from yours.

He swallows hard and returns to the discussion Tsukishima’s having with Yachi, Bokuto and Kuroo caught in their own conversation about the conference this weekend. You breathe deep and try to respond to Kuroo’s comment about the group meeting up at the hotel bar in everyone’s free time, but then Akaashi’s shifting across from you. He stretches his leg out under the table and takes up your personal space with purpose, and your words are lost in your throat.

It’s a reminder that Akaashi Keiji is possessive.

You wonder if he realizes how much you like when he’s like this.

You make it through lunch, somehow, and then walk in silence beside him to the Syntax lecture. You make uncomfortable eye contact with your advisor when you enter the lecture hall – uncomfortable, because he’s flicking his eyes between you and Akaashi and then smiling to himself as he turns away.

You promise yourself that you’ll make it through lecture without incident, but that goes out the window the second Akaashi shifts and bumps his thigh against yours, halfway through the class.

Your breath catches in your throat sharply. He bumps your leg again and then leaves it there, thigh pressed firmly to yours. Only a moment passes – a moment where you trick yourself into thinking it means nothing, for your own sake – before his hand is sliding across your thigh, heat searing through your jeans.

You stiffen, scanning the room nervously. But you always sit in the very back of the hall, so no one’s able to see what’s happening. No one’s going to catch anything Akaashi does, which you’re confident he’s already calculated. Still, you don’t want to risk anyone glancing back, so you don’t speak to him.

You just wrap your fingers around his wrist, squeezing tight in warning.

He just slips his hand between your clenched thighs, curling warmly around the curve of your thigh and digging his fingertips into the plush give of your body. Your skin erupts in goosebumps, and you become needy almost instantly. The way he rubs circles into your jeans with his thumb makes you needy. The way he handles your body with ownership – the way you’d let him handle you last night, like you belong to him – makes you want him much more than you should. Makes you want him physically, but also in ways that you never had before. Not before last night.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. And then you shiver, because you realize that he’s hard in his slacks.

Oh.

He meets your eyes when your body reacts to him, and that gnawing, yearning feeling in your chest worsens.

His eyes are glazed over, distracted and hot. Distracted by the same terrible neediness that’s plaguing you.

Oh.

He looks away, squeezing your thigh again before moving his hand away and tugging his cardigan down over his tented pants subtly. Your chest swims with disappointment for the moment it takes him to extract his phone from his pocket, and then it fills with hope.

Your own phone buzzes in your bag a second later.

[3:44 PM]

Akaashi: am i still coming over tonight?

Oh, dear god.

–

“That’s it, princess.”

Your mind fogs over with the feeling of him – of Akaashi’s voice in your ear, of every whisper that heats your brain that much more. Of the tingles that had started plaguing your every nerve the moment he’d started this – this praise – and simply don’t seem to be anywhere near easing up.

You rock your hips back where you sit in his lap on the couch of your spare room, arching your chest forward into his and breathing roughly when his arm curls tighter around your waist. You’ve got both hands on his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him like it’s your only link to sanity, and he’s using the hand he doesn’t have wrapped around you to push and pull at your hips, guiding you against him whenever you’re unable to do it yourself.

You feel full of him, warm and safe and muddling every thought that crosses through your mind while he fucks you. He fucks you slow, slow enough to trick you into thinking that it’s you who’s leading here. He fucks you slow and whispers that cursed praise in your ear and against your throat, knowing without ever having asked that it’s what you need from him tonight.

“Just like that, baby,” he breathes, his cock twitching against your walls when you moan to yourself, genuine and quiet and just for him. “You’re doing so good, fucking me so good.” You whimper into his hair, struggling to remember that there’s a camera and that you have a job to do. That your sounds can’t just be for him. That your pleasure can’t only be his.

But you want it to be, even just this once. You want to be his, just this once.

“‘m close,” you whisper, feeling that familiar, welcome tug under your navel.

“Come for me,” he breathes back, his lips brushing against your cheek. “Give it to me. You can do it.”

You can’t help it. It’s entirely out of your control, spurred on by this entire week and the way he’s treated you. The way he’s handled you, in ways only he can. By the need you’ve been feeling, acknowledged and echoed tenfold in him, too. You really can’t help it.

And, looking back later, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

“‘Kaashi,” you whisper against his temple, your pleasure washing over you in waves that are so close to what you need.

Akaashi stops moving his hips before you can get there.

Your heart stops at the same time.

He lifts his head, leaning back just enough to look you in the eye. Your breath cuts short, and you let him search your face – eyes flicking between yours before they fly across your other features. You let him search you, because you can’t bring yourself to hide anything.

“What did you say?” he whispers, alarm in his expression but not in the way you’d expected. Alarm that checks you, alarm that betrays a lingering anticipation in eyes that you can only see because you’ve spent so long learning him.

You purse your lips together, too scared to say it again.

He doesn’t need you to.

He just drops his gaze to your mouth, shoving you right back into that moment in his apartment, and all you can do is part your lips in surprise. All he needs to do is lift his head, just a few more centimeters.

He tastes like quiet desperation, the kind that’s been building for far too long.

He curls his fingers into your hair and swallows audibly, his lips still on yours even as he tugs you closer. You’re more than happy to follow his lead, breath stuttering nervously against his mouth.

Each push of his lips against yours is more heated than the last. Until his grip on the back of your head stings a little, until the pass of his tongue over the seam of your lips makes your stomach flip and your limbs go a little more numb. Until he’s angling his head against yours and pulling you close, his grip tightening and his body shifting under you.

You don’t realize he’s putting you on your back until your skin meets the soft sheet on the couch, until he’s hooking a hand under your knee and keeping your legs spread while he pushes his hips against yours, his lips warm and urgent.

You flush nervously, your head going hotter than before and your thoughts scrambling without warning. You can’t take it – the feeling of his mouth on yours while he fucks you, the feeling of his moans traveling down your throat whenever your walls clamp down around him, the most turned on you’ve ever been.

That familiar tug comes back stronger than before, rushing you to the edge with each push of his lips and each pass of his tongue against yours.

And when he murmurs your name into your own mouth, quiet and soft and tinged with warning, your fingers and toes go numb.

“Say my name again,” he breathes, angling his hips in a way that has you seeing stars. “Please. I’m really close.”

You pull your lips from his and wrap your arms around his neck, pushing your mouth close to his ear and moaning quietly when his thrust has your head bumping gently against the arm of the couch.

“Come for me, baby,” you whisper, your own orgasm following close behind when you hear how he moans in your ear, quiet and just for you. “Please, ‘Kaashi – I need it. I need you.”

He groans into your skin, and you bask in the warmth that he fills you with, his hips stuttering and your name pressed into your throat. You fall quietly over the edge with him, different from before. It washes over you this time instead of hitting you hard, in waves that feel like comfort and sun on your skin. In waves that make you all the more aware of his hands on your body and his breath fanning over the crook of your neck, of the way he whispers your name on the last push of his hips against yours. Of the way you whisper ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’ against his shoulder absentmindedly when you come.

It’s hazy, the way you fall with him. And you realize, with your heart pounding and your head swarming sleepily with gratitude, that it’s just what you needed to put all your broken pieces back together.

That Akaashi Keiji puts all the pieces back together.

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #genius #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi smut

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finelinevogue · 2 years ago

Text

lost n found

summary - you are lost in italy the night before your wedding

pairing: fiancé!harry x reader

word count: ~2k

You were definitely lost.

Drunk and lost.

To: harry - im so sor:(y

From: harry - Baby, you’re fine❤️ Drop me your location and I’ll come find you. Please don’t move xx

To: harry - okaY.i love you xox

So currently you were sat on a stone wall, somewhere on a random side street in a small Italian village, waiting for your boyfriend to come and pick you up.

Harry had gone out with a few of his closest guy friends for drinks, for one last night as an unmarried man.

You and your girls had gone out for drinks too and you had mentioned to the boys that you would catch them up later.

At some point during the evening, though, you and the girls had all gone to the beach and you had gone to the toilet. It had been a trek to find one, only when you tried to find your way back you took so many drunken wrong turns that you couldn’t tell your legs from rights now.

Reading a map was useless, but sending Harry messages wasn’t.

You originally hadn’t wanted to send him any messages, not wanting to ruin his last night a “free” man but at some point you had become a little too lost to care.

Swinging your legs as you sat on the wall, you watched the birds fly overhead amongst the clear blue sky. You detailed all the cracks in the old buildings and counted twelve windows on one wall alone.

Your brain was fuzzy and your eyes kept on wanting to close from tiredness. You would be blaming a lot of your girl friends tomorrow for the continuous passing of shots your way.

Your phone rang in your hand.

“Yeah?” You answered, not even checking the caller ID.

“Baby? Love? Can y’hear me?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’re not where y’said you’d be.” Harry sounded stressed.

“N-no I am. I sent you my location a-and I haven’t moved.”

You stood up and could feel yourself starting to panic. If Harry didn’t know where you were then there was no way of you knowing. Harry wasn’t ever a big enough drinker to get really drunk, unlike you.

You only ever got drunk when you felt you were in a safe environment, like tonight had been surrounded by all your closest girl friends. Or always with Harry.

Now that you didn’t have anyone and you were still drunk, you were getting anxiety of being alone and intoxicated.

Cue to shaky hands and tears.

“Are y’sure baby?”

“Y-yes. Fuck me. You’re not going to find me. Fuck. I don’t – shit – I.. I’m…”

“Hey, hey. Y/N, baby. Woah, slow down for me, okay? I am coming for you, okay? I just.. It was my mistake and I just need to relocate myself. You’re okay.”

Your phone was shaky in your hands and you started twisting your body around, as if expecting some random creepy guy to come around the corner and take advantage of you.

The twisting didn’t help your head, though, and was making you feel increasingly dizzy and sick.

“Y/N?” Harry asked urgently and you wondered whether you’d missed something he said.

“I-I’m scared.” You honestly said, backing yourself against a wall and trying to let the cool stone calm you down.

Your tears will no doubt have ruined your minimal makeup by now, not that that was a main priority of yours right now.

“Honey, you’re okay. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

Harry sounded like he was running.

His voice sounded a little breathy and you could hear the fast movement of wind through the speakerphone.

“Y/N, love, turn on your data.” Harry said.

“I ran out.” You banged your head back against the wall, not even thinking about the pain that just caused.

You whimpered as you sank down onto the floor, knees tucked close to your chest and arm wrapped around your legs. Your phone was still to your ear, with Harry’s voice being the only sane thing in this moment.

“Okay, okay.” Harry muttered to himself rather than you. More running sounded from Harry’s end of the phone. “Baby, y’still there?”

“Mm.”

Your mind travelled to many worst case scenarios and due to how bad they were your panic only increased.

This was supposed to be your last nights as an unmarried couple and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d ruined that. He must’ve been having such a good night.

You’d seen a couple of photos on his private Instagram story and other people’s Instagram stories. Your fiancé looked divine. He just looked so perfect that it was difficult to believe that he had chosen you and you got to call him yours.

It did make you nearly cry that he was thinking of you, via Instagram, though.

“You feeling okay, baby?” Harry asked.

“Don’t know. I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not angry or upset. Just want to make sure you’re okay, my love.”

“Okay.”

“So you have to be brave for me, okay?”

“Yes, okay.”

You got stuck for a moment, trying to think of possible ways you could calm yourself down and distract yourself. Luckily, Harry was already one step ahead.

“Hey, baby?” He grabbed your attention.

“Yeah.”

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but let the smile take over your face. You weren’t scared at all for tomorrow. You had no nervous jitters. All you felt was love in your heart for your husband to be.

“We are.”

“And you’re going to look so beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“I can’t wait to see you in your wedding dress. I bet it looks so pretty.”

You sniffled, building back your strength and overcoming your anxiety. A lot of your strength came from the love you hold for Harry.

You heard a noise from your left and looked to see a cat rustling through some litter.

Your heart deflated when you realised it wasn’t Harry. You knew he was coming though. He was on his way and he would not stop running until he found you.

It was almost like a bad scene out of a romance movie.

The night before your wedding and something terrible goes wrong. It’s a sign!

“I think it’s just perfectly me.” You said, talking about your wedding dress.

“Sounds perfect to me then.” Harry paused for a moment. “Baby, did you walk under an archway, like, uh, a stone archway covered in pink flowers?”

“I-I don’t know. I don’t remember.” You ran a stressed hand over your forehead.

“Okay. That’s okay.”

“Everyone’s going to be so mad at me.” You began getting frustrated with yourself. “Fuck.” You breathed in a sob and exhaled with a bigger breath.

“Promise you no one’s mad, baby. Gem has messaged me a thousand times asking if you’re okay. I can’t even answer ‘cause this bloody maps apps is a fucking nuisance. I swear to–”

“Harry?” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking up from your knees to check your phone. He was still on the line. “Hello?”

“Y/N!” Harry shouted your name, but not from down the phone.

You could see Harry walking over to you very quickly, clearly panting from having run street after street.

“H.” You dropped your phone and cried as you saw him faster approach you.

Definitely a moment worthy of a romcom.

Harry was probably living his Ryan Gosling dreams.

“Baby, hey. I’m here. You’re okay.” Harry sank down to the floor and scooped his arms around you, pulling you close and squeezing oh so tight.

He sank down to his bum and leaned against the wall, pulling your entirely onto his lap. Too close wasn’t an option right now.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you sat sideways on his lap. Your face was tucked under his chin and his head rested on top of yours. You cried as Harry held you tight.

You couldn’t see Harry’s facial expressions but he was breathing out sighs of relief, some tears in his own eyes from the adrenaline of trying to find you. He had been just as scared as you, but had to remain strong for you. Now he had you he could let it all out.

“You’re never going to the toilet alone again.” Harry laughed. You laughed back.

“Deal.”

“That was scary.” Harry kind of mumbled, but you heard him anyways. He kissed your head a few times and you melted at the feel.

“Harry.”

“Yeah, love?”

“My head is so dizzy.”

Harry used a hand to tilt your head up so he could see your face. He noticed your mascara ridden face first of all, but beneath that you were all beauty.

“Tequila is only our friend for two rounds, remember?” He laughed at you. He was able to tell from your eyes that you weren’t exceedingly drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“I did not remember.”

He nuzzled his nose against yours as he shook his head with a grin. “You’re such a handful, you.”

“M’sorry.” You pouted.

“Never said I didn’t love you as a handful.”

“Do you? Love me a handful?” You used a hand to stroke over his cheek that had gotten so scruffy with the stubble he was trying to grow.

“‘Course. Love you every way and anyway. Love you so much. Love you until my body literally decomposes my wedding ring off my finger, and then some more.”

“That was dark, even for a 2AM drunk thought.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Harry chuckled, noticing that smile on your face becoming more and more permanent.

“But I’ll love you for the same.” You promised.

Harry kissed you then, not wasting another moment of this evening away from you. Well, morning now. His lips were soft against yours and you smiled into the kiss, happy that he was here with you even if it was under really weird circumstances.

“Let’s go, trouble. We’ll go back to the hotel and I’ll kiss you all night.”

“Don’t you want to spend the rest of your night with the boys? You know, last night as a free man?” Even though you were suggesting this, all you actually wanted to do was kiss, kiss and kiss him.

“Free man?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows with disgust, “What are you talking about?”

“You know? People say the last night before they get married is their last chance to be free?”

“Why would I need to be free when I’ve got you? I’m choosing you, like I always have. Never needed to be free.”

You smiled warmly at him. “I’m shackling you to me for life.”

“Too right you are, baby. Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Now, take me home, trouble.” You giggled.

“Oh. So I’m the trouble now?”

liked by gemmastyles and 682,928 others

yourinstagram tomorrow i get your last name forever <3 p.s. i would like to state that harry bought himself that tshirt :)

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harryfan1 oh to be y/n l/n

jeffezoff Where did you two go?

harryfan2 moustacherry fans rrIISEEEEE

harryfan3 wish my bf supported me with tshirts like that

jamescorden Tequila anyone?

harrystyles I am planning on wearing that tshirt tomorrow.

yourinstagram @/harrystyles the tshirt but nothing else please

gemmastyles @/jamescorden They aren’t coming back for tequila….

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles italy #harry styles mustache #harry styles fic #finelinevogue fic #harry styles fiance #harry styles boyfriend

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nachrosas · 1 month ago

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CUPID'S PUPPY | e.prentiss x romanoff!reader

summary: in which a walk in the park with your puppy gives you more than a little fun. pairing: emily prentiss x romanoff!reader content warnings: none, just pure fluff! word count: 1.2k a/n: night, night! first time writing for emily prentiss, so I'm nervous! i want to give a big thank you to @mggslover who encouraged me to start writing about this idea! i had fun writing this one and i really hope you guys like it! feedback is always appreciated! also, my inbox is always open to chat! till the next one!

The park was particularly busy on that sunny Tuesday afternoon, but the sound of laughter, chatter, and footsteps didn't bother you. You were holding the lead of Bucky, your Belgian Malinois puppy, who was trotting lively beside you, his tail wagging as if he were greeting the whole world with his contagious animation. The current of wind blowing towards you carried the scent of flowers, freshly cut grass, and… food.

“Bucky, slow down!” you ordered, adjusting the strap of your fanny pack on your shoulder. It was the perfect day for a leisurely walk in the park, and you planned to make the most of it — since you didn't know when exactly you'd have another mission-free day. However, something seemed to distract your puppy. He raised his snout, sniffing more intensely, and his posture became alert.

“Hey, kid, what now?” you asked, laughing as he pulled a little harder on the leash.

That's when it happened. And, to your utter panic, Bucky fired without warning, the leash sliding quickly through your hands.

“Bucky! Stop!”

That's when it happened. And, to his utter panic, Bucky took off without warning, running into a woman with brown hair in a messy ponytail, absent-mindedly eating what looked like a sandwich while leafing through a book with a faded cover. Without warning, he jumped up, snatching the food out of her hands and running across the park.

“Bucky! Stop! Drop it now!”

You ran through the park, your face red with embarrassment as Bucky, with all the enthusiasm of someone who thought he'd just won the lottery, held the stolen sandwich firmly between his teeth. He settled comfortably in the soft grass, chewing his snack as if it were the best meal he'd ever had.

When you finally reached him, you knelt down beside him, trying to snatch the remains of the sandwich from his jaws, but he only turned his head away, protecting his delicious prize.

“You're terrible, you know that? Terrible!”

“He seems to think otherwise.” a humor-laden female voice replied behind you, startling you slightly.

You turned around quickly and, a few steps away, there she was: arms crossed and with a relaxed posture. Her eyes were shining and a huge smile that seemed to be lit up with amusement took over her face.

“I'm really sorry!” you began, standing up hastily, the words running over each other. “He's never done that! He's usually very polite. I can buy you another sandwich… or anything else you want to make it up to you!”

She raised an eyebrow, still smiling, and shook her head. “You don't have to. It's not the end of the world.” Her eyes turned to Bucky, who was now licking his paws, completely oblivious to the mess he'd just caused. “Besides, he's got good taste…”

You opened your mouth to thank her, but she finished, her soft smile turning into something a little provocative:

“… just like the owner.”

The words hung in the air for a second before you realized what she had said. A wave of heat went up your cheeks, and any attempt to answer was shuffled off with a nervous laugh.

“I… uh… eh… Well, thanks, I guess?”

She laughed again, this time more softly, and held out her hand. “Emily Prentiss. Nice to meet you and this little sandwich thief.”

You accepted the handshake, your face still feeling hot. “Nice to meet you… even if that's not exactly the best first impression.”

“I disagree.” Emily blinked in your direction and, for a brief moment, the chaos caused by Bucky seemed to have been worth it.

Emily looked at what was left of the sandwich: a tiny piece, still wrapped in the crumpled paper, that Bucky had saved.

“Well, he left something. Do you want to share?” she asked, holding up the piece with a playful smile on her lips.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Eh, I couldn't accept it, especially after… that.” you gestured to Bucky, who was still lying on the grass, licking his lips as if he didn't feel a pang of guilt in the world.

“Okay.” Emily said, tossing what was left onto the table next to you with a thoughtful look on her face. “How about a coffee? The place around the corner has amazing sandwiches. And I promise to keep an eye on your dog this time.”

You hesitated. Accepting an invitation from a complete stranger wasn't exactly in your plans for that day — however, neither was Bucky stealing a sandwich. But there was something about Emily — her genuine smile, the relaxed way she had handled the situation — that made you want to stay a little longer.

“All right,” you said, smiling back. “But it's on me. Bucky's already put me in enough debt for today.”

Emily laughed, starting to walk beside him. “Fine. But only if he behaves.”

Bucky, as if he understood that the conversation was now about him, looked up with an expression of almost innocence.

On the walk to the café, the conversation between you flowed naturally. Emily asked about Bucky: how long you'd had him, how he generally behaved — and you again assured her that he behaved much better than he does today. You told her about the various adventures and pranks you'd been on with him, and Emily, in return, told you about her childhood dog, called Max, who she also regarded as a “little terror”.

“I think he knew how to pick his targets,” she joked. “Max also stole a sandwich once. It was from the most annoying neighbor in the whole neighborhood. I remember he was quite furious, but my mother managed to get around it with an apple pie from a prestigious restaurant.”

“So, for you, Bucky was just an evolution of this legacy of thievery?” you teased, feeling more at ease with every step.

“It's quite possible.” Emily laughed, and the sound was light and infectious.

The conversation between you flowed with such surprising ease that you didn't even notice the time passing. Emily was fun and full of stories that made you laugh and relax. When the waiter brought the bill, she insisted on splitting it.

“Consider it a draw,” she joked. “A sandwich was stolen for a shared coffee.”

The golden light of late afternoon illuminated the sky, giving the scene an almost magical tone. When they reached the door of the café, Emily turned to you, a shy smile on her lips.

“I come here often,” she said, putting her hands in her coat pockets. “Maybe we'll meet up again… if Bucky isn't too busy stealing sandwiches, of course.”

You laughed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again. “Maybe. Or, well, we could arrange a time, if you want to avoid food surprises.”

Emily arched an eyebrow, clearly holding back a bigger smile. “That sounds like a plan. Can I take your number?”

You nodded and exchanged numbers, the gesture accompanied by a slight feeling of nervousness, but also anticipation.

“Right, so I'll see you around!” Emily said, taking one last look at Bucky, who was watching everything curiously. “And if he needs a lawyer for his next prank, let me know.”

You laughed, nodding as she walked away.

As you walked home, you looked at Bucky, who was walking beside you with his chest puffed out, as if he knew exactly what he had done.

“You knew all along, didn't you?” you asked, and he wagged his tail enthusiastically, as if in agreement.

A smile escaped his lips. The day that had started out like any other had turned into something unexpected and special — all thanks to a dog with a refined taste for sandwiches and, apparently, casual encounters.

#criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 year ago

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Hand Necklace (3 of 4)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: wall sex, floor sex, clothes ripping, rough sex, possessive / protective Simon, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), mating press, established relationship

Word Count: 940

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Simon's possessive nature takes over.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // hand necklace masterlist

When the key slides into the lock, and you hear the familiar click of the deadbolt, you sigh with relief.

The rain is coming down in sheets, and you’re soaked, the black cocktail dress you’re wearing nothing more than a limp rag. You step inside the apartment you share with Simon, shivering slightly once you’re through the door. When the door shuts, you check the locks. It’s a habit Simon has drilled into your head time and time again.

Groaning, you reach down to take off a heel, wanting to be out of these fucking torture devices. The moment your gaze flicks upward from the floor, you freeze, noticing the figure standing at the end of the short entrance hallway.

“Simon?”

He steps into the small slash of moonlight that somehow—impossibly—comes through the tiny window at the very top of the front door. Simon is without his balaclava but there is still some smudged eye black, as if he couldn’t wash it all away. Other than that, Simon is in his casual clothes: black joggers, black socks, and a black t-shirt that stretches tightly over his muscles.

“Have fun?” he asks. Simon’s tone is flat, and usually that means he’s up to something.

“You already know the answer. Probably watching me instead of playing games with Soap on Discord,” you tease, aware that you’re pushing his buttons.

Simon is notorious for knowing your every step and breath. It’s haunting just how precise he is on exactly where you are and what you’re doing at all times. Most people might call that overbearing or even obsessive, but it only makes you feel safe. It means Simon is always there, and you can rely on him to come for you when you need him the most.

He starts taking slow, precision-laced steps toward you. “I watched you, and played with Johnny. That’s what having two screens is for.” The tips of his fingers brush against the bit of exposed bare thigh. “Did anyone touch what’s mine? Do I need to cut off some hands?”

“Stop that, Simon,” you chide, smacking his solid chest, only to grimace and shake your hand with how fucking hard his pectorals are. The man is a goddamn wall.

“No hands? What about throats?” Those fingers that are only grazing against you become a full, warm palm. Simon’s fingers dig into your flesh, and he uses that leverage to draw you even closer to him.

“You know it’s never that serious,” you murmur.

Simon’s answer is a low growl as he grabs the front of your neck and pushes you up against the wall. He traps you with his body, creating a cage you cannot escape from. He is so large like this, and it only sends your body into a heated tingle, the place between your thighs warming with need.

With a swiftness that steals your breath, Simon slides his free arm behind the backs of your thighs, lifting and pinning you against the wall. Your legs part easily, wrapping around his middle. Your arms go up and lock behind his neck. The black cocktail dress you wear has nowhere to go expect up, collecting at your waist, exposing your pussy to him.

“You’re not wearing underwear,” growls Simon.

You smirk, and reach down between your bodies, pushing down the elastic band of his black joggers until his cock is free. Simon is already hard, and he groans when you palm him.

“I like to make it easy for you,” you tease, smiling softly.

Simon’s next move is anything but soft. He drops his hand from your neck to adjust his grip, moving both hands to your hips. You’re truly pinned to the wall, unable to go anywhere. Simon knows this, and he lines the head of his cock up to your entrance, thrusting forward in one swift buck of his hips.

“Oh—Fuck!” you cry out, immediately clenching around him.

“Dirty. Fucking. Girl,” grunts Simon between each thrust.

He is relentless, fucking you until the photographs on the wall shake and fall off their mounts, clattering to the floor. Simon buries his face in your neck, nips at your skin, and then guides you away from the wall, bouncing you on his cock as he stands there.

“Simon,” you moan, urging him to take this elsewhere. “Bedroom.”

“No. I’m fucking you right here.”

Simon guides the two of you down to the floor. His cock slides out of you as you lay flat on your back. You start to reach for him, but Simon only grabs at your dress, fingers curling at the neckline.

“Sorry, love,” he says before ripping the dress right down the middle. “Can’t wait.”

You’re too shocked to say anything because Simon is pushing your legs up toward your chest, baring down on the backs of your thighs only to slide home again. Simon does not use the floor but your throat as his anchor.

Both of his hands slide up your body and grab hold, truly keeping you against the floor. Simon��s grip is strong but not enough to steal your breath. You’re utterly dominated, and it’s fucking amazing.

Simon’s pace is relentless, hitting deep, claiming every bit of your pussy for himself. This always happens when you come home. He has to mark and reclaim every single inch of your body. And fuck—he’s doing exactly that, groaning above you with each thrust.

“Who do you belong to, love?”

“You.”

“Say my fucking name.” Simon snaps his hips forward, stills and slowly grinds his pelvis against your clit until your body quivers.

“You, Simon. Always you.”

“Goddamn right.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @cinnabeanz @berarenado @rogerrhqpsody @josephquinnschesthair @saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien

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acapelladitty · 4 months ago

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`♡° kinktober 2024! ---

☆ kink: lapdance

☆ pairing: Oswald Cobblepot/Reader

☆ summary: Oz has something you want and you know exactly how to get it.

kinktober '24 ☆ main masterlist ☆ ao3

Unveiling your outfit with a dramatic flourish, you allow the long trench coat to drop to the floor as you arch your back and stand in what you hope is a sexy pose. The thin, barely there material which makes up the bra and panties set that only just covers your most intimate parts is paired with fishnet thigh-highs which cling to your lotion-soaked skin.

Giving a low appreciate whistle as he taps his fingers against the wide leather chair which houses him, Oz is clearly impressed with the look if the predatory leer which jumps into his thick features is anything to go by.

“Hmm, looking good, doll. Haven’t seen an outfit like that in a while,” he praises, his right hand falling from the arm of the chair as he adjusts the groin of his slacks. “So, what’s this going to cost me?”

Immediately found out, you bite back the laugh which threatens to break free of your lips as you instead give a quick twirl – showcasing every inch of you in the vague hopes of distracting him from his suspicions.

“You really think I would use an opportunity like this just to get something? Oz…really? Maybe I just wanted to show you a real good time.”

“I’m still not hearing the ask, sweetheart.”

“Well,” you pause to unlatch the hooks of your bra, allowing the thin material to drop to the ground as you stand tall and allow your tits to hang free in the warm air, “if I was looking for something, there’s a pretty little dress in the window of that Italian boutique that Silver St Cloud owns.”

“Cheap as hell, I’m sure,” Oz mutters and his eyes narrow at you with a definite playful edge that let you know he was still somewhat amenable to your wiles. “My wallet isn’t as thick as my gut, doll.”

“Mmm,” you shift forward to place your hands on his knees and gently spread his legs apart, “I’m sure your wallet is big and thick enough to give me what I need.”

“You sure?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d love to touch it and feel it in my hand.”

“How’s your mouth feeling about it?” Flashing his teeth, Oz groans as you turn in place and sit pretty in his lap – making sure to press your ass against his cock as it remained trapped in his slacks.

You tilt your head back at him and sigh as his hands swiftly shift to wrap around your torso and grope at your exposed tits, the feel of his thick fingers grasping at your skin instantly making your cunt ache as you slowly rotate your ass in his lap. While a lapdance wasn’t your area of expertise, Oz was never one to complain about getting a free show and if the bulge of his cock was anything to go by, he certainly was enjoying himself.

Rubbing yourself on his wide frame like a cat in heat, the thrum of the club music which rattles the almost-soundproofed windows helps to guide your movements as you match its beat; swaying, grinding, and running your hands across his body as you work him into a subtle frenzy.

“I’m gonna fuck you silly tonight, doll. You won’t be able to walk straight.”

“Is that right Mr. Cobblepot?” Answering him with a husky tone, you drop into his lap and face him directly – wrapping your hands around his neck and pressing your tits into his chest. His thick thighs provide a solid base for you to grind on and you roll your hips against his groin, the slightly slickened panties sliding across his tented bulge in a wicked tease, “We’ll see.”

You focus on your dancing, loving how solid he feels beneath you with every slow movement that you tease across his body. His suit is a very deep purple, almost black in the limited light, and the texture of it is soft against your skin as you slip off his lap and drop to the floor – turning so that you can kneel between his spread legs.

Catching his zipper between your teeth, you pull it down slowly and enjoy the way that his chest visibly hitches as your mouth dives further to mouth at his cock through the thick material of his boxers.

“You’re a menace, doll,” Oz groans, slipping his back down a notch lower to give you all the access you need.

Smiling up at him, you drop his cock from your mouth and instead slip your hand past the waistband of his boxers – pulling his cock free with a pleased sigh as you run your fingers across the fat length. He was thick, the thickest you’d ever known, and you hum excitedly as you take in the small, pearlescent bead of pre-cum which sits prettily at his slit of his cock. You swipe your thumb across it and admire how it makes his breath stutter.

Openly groaning as you work his painfully-hard cock over with your talented hand, it’s not much of a surprise when you feel his length twitch after only a few strokes and he spills his release across your fingers with a low growl – his hand dropping past your hand to grip your tit roughly as he rides out his orgasm on your willing chest.

His cum is warm against your hand and you don’t stop stroking him until he shifts with the beginnings of overstimulated discomfort and grips your upper arm firmly to pull you back up onto his lap.

“What colour?” Oz pants, his breathing not quite yet caught back up to him.

You settle into his lap, wiping the mess of his release on the upper part of your panties, “Hmm?”

“The dress. What colour was it?”

“Red.”

“Get it, and order another in purple,” lip curling at the corner, Oz spares you a soft wink, “Deep purple. The kind that I like.”

Laying against his chest, you give him a throaty giggle as you link your fingers within his own, admiring how heavily his rings sat against your smaller fingers, “Thanks, Oz. When I get them delivered, you’ll be first in line to get another private showing.”

“Damn right I will.”

#penguin #the penguin #penguin x reader #penguin fic #oz cobb #oz cobb x reader #oswald cobblepot #hbo penguin #colin farrell #oz cobblepot x reader #penguin x you #penguin smut

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inkdrinkerworld · 1 year ago

Note

for soft beefy!james... he’s so the type to cry when you cry. like you come to him in tears and immediately he’s pulling you into his lap and cradling your face in his big hands, using his thumbs to brush away your tears and asking you what happened... getting teary when you sob even if it’s over something frivolous bc it hurts his heart. idk if this is anything, feel free to just ignore but i love the way you write your beefy!james <3

oh my goodness!! this is perfect!!! mention of hate from super fans of rugby but not descriptive

he's just come back from training when he hears the hiccupping breath. it's not often that james is greeted with your tears and he feels his chest constrict at the sound of them.

"angel?" he calls, toeing off his shoes as he ventures further into the living room for you.

you're laying on your side, face halfway smushed into a pillow as your body shakes with your sobs.

"angel, what's wrong?" he asks, dropping to his knees before you. james' hands are gentle where they wipe away the racing tears.

he can feel his own emotions rising, feeling the pinpricks of tears pooling behind his eyes.

you heave a breath, clearly trying to speak. james gives you time, "m'not-" you pause, inhaling deeply, "saw that stupid advert, the one with the dogs in the shelter."

james coos, picking you up easily and fitting you in his lap as he sits on the floor. you twist in his lap and say, "m'gross jamie, got tears and snot all over my face."

james manages a laugh, though it's not his usual one. "no you don't," he kisses your tear stained cheek. "you sure the advert was the only thing?"

his hand rubs your back, waiting for your answer. you deliberate while you twist at the hem of his shirt. "saw the messages under that post," james knows which one you're talking about instantly. "s'not very nice."

james feels the pinpricks again and nudges your face with his nose. "want me to do something about it?" he knows you're a big girl, that you can handle your own battles, but james hates the ideas that some of the teams' fans can be vile.

"no no," your tone is firm. james still wants to fight it though, he wants to let is be known that it isn't alright. "it'll pass right?" you ask, eyes shining with unshed tears as you look up at james.

"course it will," he kisses your forehead, fishing his phone from his pocket.

"jamie, what are you doing?" you yawn through the words and james knows that if he doesn't get up now, you're both going to remain on the floor during your nap.

"making sure you're okay, angel." he selects a photo of you from his camera roll- one of you in his team's hoodie as you watch the game at home.

"can i?" he asks, just to be sure. your nod is hesitant. a kiss is pressed to the column of his throat in thanks.

it's a picture that his mum had taken the last time he had an away game that you couldn't go to.

'biggest supporter, biggest love xx' is the caption, james kissing your teary face one last time before standing up.

"let's go take a nap, angel;" he holds you to his chest as he walks to the room. "i love you." you kiss him, soft and slow, and a little sticky from where your tears have met his dry cheeks.

"i love you too, jamie."

#beefy!james #beefy!james potter #rugby!james #jamespotter #james potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter one shot #james potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter drabble #james potter blurb #james potter x black!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x yn

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mournings-stars · 11 months ago

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literally just smut under the cut

sub!luci x fem!reader with a little bit of sensitive wings a little bit of a mommy kink and a little bit of a breeding kink and edging but also pussydrunk luci and face sitting… idk i just need to ruin him like...

“Need my help?” You asked gently, fingers tracing Lucifer’s chest and abdomen. One arm rested on his chest, your head resting there and listening to his quick breathing and heart rate as you watched his hand around his throbbing cock. His other arm was around you, hand resting on your bare hip and squeezing as he huffed. “Come on, baby, talk to me.”

You’d been making him edge himself for longer than he could remember, his mind fuzzy as he tried his hardest not to cum. He knew the moment you touched him, he'd crumble, but he nodded anyway. “Yes,” he whimpered, dropping his hand.

“Yeah?” You cooed, watching the way his hips twitched in anticipation, your hand running down his abdomen. He hummed, barely able to speak. “Mhm,” you mocked, pressing on his lower stomach. His hips thrusted and you hushed him, massaging slow circles to make him whine. “Words, pretty boy. I know you can…”

“Yes, please,” he corrected and you eased the pressure on his stomach, tracing the sensitive skin with your fingertips.

“Good boy,” you praised and he sighed, head lolling back and replying your praise over and over, getting him even more worked up. “You like when I call you my good boy, Luci?” You asked, watching as precum bubbled dripped down his tip as he nodded. That was exactly why you didn’t face him, he had a habit of not speaking when he got too worked up. “Answer me, baby,” you urged, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest.

“Yes,” he answered breathlessly. “I’m your good boy.”

“That’s right, baby,” you cooed, palming his tip and making him whine, “you’re all mine.”

“All yours,” he muttered, gripping your hip to try not to focus on your hand.

He only succeeded for a moment before your hand replaced his, grasping his cock and pumping at an agonizingly slow pace that made him turn his head and whine into his pillow. Your thumb ran over his tip and you felt him twitch. “Ah-ah, hold it,” your voice became harsh and he cursed as he gripped your hip so hard that you knew it would bruise. “Luci,” your warning voice sent him over the edge, making you have to take your hand off of him so he didn’t finish. “Want a break—?“

“No.”

Your brows shot up as you sat up slightly to turn and face him. “No?” You dragged the tips of your fingers slowly up and down his length, watching the way his brows furrowed.

“Wanna cum,” he begged, giving you the sweetest, most pleading expression you’d seen from him.

“Oh.” You laughed, shaking your head. He pouted at the denial, but you shocked him when you asked, “Where?” He blinked, wings suddenly fluffing out from beneath him at the simple idea of an option. You smiled, free hand tracing the tip of his wing as your hand gripped him again, pumping slowly. His eyes rolled back, mouth falling open as his hips jerked. “On my tits?” You suggested, urging him to answer and still stroking his wing as you stroked his cock, making his mind go numb. “On my face?” He barely shook his head, but you understood. “Where, baby? In my mouth?”

“Don’t…” He forced himself to respond, “don’t make me say it,” he groaned and you smirked, straddling his thigh and pressing yourself against him. He moaned, hand quickly moving to your back and pressing you down. “Please.” He could feel your wetness on his thigh, cock aching to be inside of you, filling you up.

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” you said quietly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before you kissed his cheek, then jaw. Your mouth drifted to his neck, hot, open mouthed kisses making him moan as you pressed your knee against him and let your hands run across his trembling wings. “You wanna breed me, Lucifer? Is that what you don’t want me to make you say?”

His hips bucked up; the way you whispered, the way your breath fanned his ear, the way you said his name, the way you touched his wings… he wasn’t sure he could keep this up much longer and you could tell, so you coaxed him into waiting just a little longer, “You’ve been very good.” He nodded as your hand cupped his cheek, finally stopping the torture on his wings as your face hovered over his, lips grazing his with every word. He didn’t know what was more torturous, your lips teasing his and your beauty so close that he couldn’t look away, or your relentless hands and voice making his mind blank. “You think you deserve that?” He nodded fervently. “Then say it.”

He was in a trance just looking in your eyes, feeling your hands brush his hair out of his face — feeling your cunt drip onto his thigh. His hands gripped your hips and you pressed your knee into him, making him whine, “I wanna breed you. Please,” he begged, trying his hardest not to grind against you. “Wanna be inside you—“

“Do you want that, or do you want to make me cum?” He saw the way your gaze fell to his mouth and his eyes shone red. This was more torturous, he decided, knowing what he’d choose. “Come on, Lu—“

“Sit on my face,” he said quickly, blinking away the red in his eyes. “Fuck, mommy, please.” Your cunt pooled at the title, but he didn’t even notice he said it, continuing to beg until you moved off of his thigh and up to his face.

“Calm down,” you eased, taking his hands that had been pulling you toward him and pinning them above his head, “I’m giving you what you want, just relax…“

“Thank you,” he moaned, hips squirming in anticipation.

The moment you put your leg over his head, he pulled you down and shut his eyes, lying his tongue on your wet cunt and making you sigh. As soon as he tasted you, his horns formed, making your hips jerk. He held them still, forcing you further down as his tongue worked to clean up every last drop of your arousal before resting on your clit.

He sucked your clit into his mouth and your hands immediately grasped his horns, making him moan against you, sending a soft vibrating pleasure up your body that he took note of. He continued to moan against you as his tongue circled gently, slowly adding more and more pressure until your thighs were trembling.

“Ah, you’re doing so good, baby,” you praised through panting breaths. “So fucking good.” He hummed, tongue teasing your entrance and making you moan.

His hips jerked at the sound, his cock flushed and painfully hard. You reached a hand back to help him, but he quickly grabbed it and put it right back where it was, red eyes opening to look up at you as his long tongue pushed inside of you. They rolled back at the taste, a satisfied moan leaving his mouth before he lifted his head slightly, pulling you down even more to get his face pressed as close to you as possible. His eyes shut once again, his tongue relentless inside you and against your clit as you trembled and moaned above him.

You couldn’t even praise him, but he didn’t care, too enthralled to even hear any praise you’d try to give. He heard your whimpering, felt your muscles contracting after just a short time with his tongue on you, but he didn’t stop. He felt your thighs shake and body hunch over, but he continued without a care, hips desperately grinding up against nothing as she sucked and licked at your pussy until you could barely even moan.

He held you down until your hips were writhing on his tongue and your cum was all over his face, dripping down his chin and cheeks, but he didn’t stop. Even after you finished, moaning loudly and attempting to lift your hips, he pulled you down and turned you on your back, pressing your thighs down and his hand into your lower stomach as he overstimulated you, making you whine and shake in pleasure.

All he wanted now was to please you. He wanted to keep tasting you, keep making you writhe and moan, keep using his mouth to make you feel good. He wanted to make you feel so good that you couldn’t even moan, just cumming over and over on his tongue because he was that fucking good for you.

He didn’t stop until you were pushing at his horns, moaning his name over and over until he lifted his head. His eyes were red and his mouth was parted slightly as he looked at you. He licked his lips, savoring your taste with a fucked out grin. “One more,” he said breathlessly, hands stroking your thighs. His head dipped back down, gently kissing your wet lips. “Need to make you feel good, mommy. One more.”

You knew if you gave into him now, you’d be giving into him all night; one more, after one more, after one more, like he wanted. You shook your head and he whined, kissing the inside of your thigh as he continued to say, “please, mommy,” over and over, making it so hard to resist him. “I’ve been so good. Need to be better — I’ll make you feel so good. Please…” His teeth sunk into your thigh, making you shudder when he licked the blood that trickled down. He was trying his hardest not to do the same to your pussy, forcing himself to kiss and lick at your thighs until he had to bite to keep himself at bay. “Just one more—“

Instead, you said what you knew would get him out of this rut, taking his face in your hands and making him come up to your level. His eyes immediately met yours, wide and eager to please. “No more, baby—“

“Why?” He whined, hands now running across your thighs, your arousal coating them and making him try to pull his head out of your grasp.

“Maybe you forgot…” You kissed his cheek and brought your lips to his ear, smiling at the way his wings flared when you said, “I want you to breed me.”

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phosphostar · 3 months ago

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Need a good ending for Mouthwashing, where everyone is safe and sound (is Jimmy dead)

Can I have a Headcannons where Curly has been missing for a while year and he reunites with his s/o he founds out they had their child and he’s meeting his baby for the first time?

If you don’t feel comfortable writing them this feel free to skip it.

YES I CAN SO DO THIS!!!! i might make it a fic tbh. not sure yet.

𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤

cw: medical talk/setting, fem!reader, they have a a daughter. , curly has stubs still, and is still healing from some surgeries.

426

426 days since i last saw him.

the trip was only supposed to be 382 days. why is it taking twice that? i’ve called anya, she answered. swansea, he answered. jimmy, he didn’t answer. and him. i called him, maybe more than a normal person would’ve. to no avail. none of them would tell me what happened, as if they had an oath.

“was i not one of his emergency contacts?” i think out loud in my car as i go to pick up my daughter from my mother’s house. he never found out about her. i was around 3 months when i decided to take a test, and he was already 2 months into his shipment. she’s only 4 months. she’s got his blue eyes, with dirty blonde hair. she looks almost exactly like him, but she got my nose. my mind reels as i think of her party, of what’s for dinner, what laundry i need to do, and him. all of a sudden, im broken out of my trance from a phone call. i pull over as i answer, realizing it’s the local hospital.

“hello? this is cedar crest general hospital with the burn unit. we’re inquiring about ms. (l/n).” i’m confused. burn unit? what? “yes, uhm, that’s me. may i ask why?” “we have your significant other with us, grant curly. as you may know, he was a pilot for the freight space shuttle company pony express. one of their shipments exploded, the tulpar, and he was given the brunt of the impact.” i’m shocked. all i can do is listen as tears silently drop down my cheeks.

“ma’am? hello?” “i’m so sorry, i’m here.” i sniffle as i continue driving, needing to pick up our daughter. “he is ready to have visitors, and would like to know if you can visit?” “i can. of course i can.” im elated. oh my god. he’s going to meet her. oh my god. “perfect. he’s in room 236, in the burn unit. make sure you tell the front office his room and unit, along with name and birthdate. have a wonderful day.”

with that, she hangs up. i finally reach my moms house. while naomi, our daughter, is playing with some toys, i tell my mom everything. she’s shocked. i pick up my daughter and put her in her car seat. i quickly begin to drive over to the hospital, calling anya as quickly as i can. when she picks up, i tell her everything, crying as im elated he’s okay. once i reach the hospital, i hang up. i grab my daughter and walk up to the front desk.

“hi, i’m here to see grant curly? he’s room 236, burn unit. his birthday is 11/09/xxxx.” i hand her my id, and she scans it. she takes a photo of my face, and hands me back my entrance pass and id. i quickly walk to the burn unit, naomi bouncing happily on my hip as i slow down. i reach his room and shush her. i knock and a faint “come in!” is said.

i walk in, and i see a doctor hunched over. she quickly walks over to me and ushers me out of the room. “ms. (l/n), correct?” “yes, that’s me.” i smile nervously, and naomi waves at her. “im dr. hause, taking care of curly. as explained to you over the phone, he was involved in a large crash. luckily, a crew member of his placed him in a cryo pod. he has extensive damage to his skin, from both head damage and the pod’s freezing temperatures. he looks nearly nothing like he did before, and never will. please be patient and compassionate.” my eyes widen, terrified at what this all meant. i nod wordlessly, and she allows me in. his head turns slightly, and my eyes water. “oh.. curly..” i whisper as i hurry over to his bedside. i softly cup his scared face in my hand, careful of his still healing stitches.

“curly..” i whisper, and his stub lifts up slowly to touch my arm. “love…” he answers, and i stifle back a sob, his accent just a little off. he’s still got his blue eyes and curly blonde hair. well, one eye. and some hair. “who’s.. she?” he asks, looking at naomi.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #captain curly #captain curly mouthwashing #captain curly x reader mouthwashing #sobbing

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petertingle-yipyip · 7 months ago

Text

MOONLIGHT - BELLAMY BLAKE

Pairing: Bellamy x reader

Word Count: 2,247

Summary: A quick hunting run goes bad so you’re forced to make a choice, but as expected, Bellamy is on your side. Finding some quiet afterwards allows a kinder moment amongst the chaos of the Ground.

Benefit of being older than The 100, they for the most part saw you as an authority figure. There were some that saw you as an equal and it all made no difference to you.

You were on the Ground. You were with people you cared about. Ultimately, you still won.

Everything seemed okay until one day, you were out with a small group that Bellamy assigned for you to hunt with. You had just thrown the small, handmade knife at the creature that you hadn’t even fully identified. Before you could get closer and regather your weapon, you were shoved from behind.

You hit face first against a tree and your skin burned with the new scrape. A hand landed on each arm and two hit at the base of your shoulders to pull your arms back while keeping you pressed against the rough bark.

“What the hell is this?” You asked angrily, jerking against the grip. It did nothing to free you, only anger the new marks on your cheek.

“Now that we’re far enough from camp, Bellamy can’t come to your rescue.” Murphy said from behind you. “We’ve come to a decision.”

“Great way to start.” You muttered, to which a new hand landed on the back of your head and pushed down to drag your face along the surface. You bit down the sound as you felt the new tears across your skin. “What do you want?” You asked loudly instead.

“We want you off the hunting team.” He answered flatly.

“What? Why? I’m the best hu-”

“You’re not the best.” He laughed. “You slow us down, actually. Just because you’re with Bellamy doesn’t mean you can get in my way.”

“You’re a goddamn idiot. Are you that self-centered that you can’t see this has nothing to do with Bellamy? I can track. I aced Earth botany. I can handle a blade better than any of you.”

They pulled you back and slammed you against the tree again.

“Everyone else is gonna starve because of your arrogance.” You warned.

“I think they’ll be fine.” He said and you just barely see the smirk. “You should worry about yourself.”

“Alright, fine.” You conceded.

It just wasn’t worth the fight.

“What was that?”

“Fine.” You said louder and your arms were released. “I’ll talk to Bellamy when we get back.”

“And this is your idea, right?”

You ground your teeth. “Right.”

Murphy smiled in triumph and gestured for you to guide the way. The other two went to gather the dead animal that you had nearly forgotten about. As they were dragging the carcass by, you stopped to free your knife and shove it back under your belt. You pressed gentle fingers against your cheek and felt the thin bunches of peeled skin accompanied with the slick feeling of fresh blood.

You kept your head down as you reentered camp. The boys were met with proud cheers and you were more worried about keeping your face hidden that you ran into Octavia.

“Hey.” She greeted before reaching for your shoulder. “What the hell happened out there?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head. “Where’s Bell?”

“Either in his tent or the Dropship. Y/N, what-“

“And Clarke?”

She sighed slightly, as if realizing you weren’t going to talk about it.

“Her tent.”

“Great, thanks.” You smiled quickly but her frown froze you for a second longer. “Don’t tell your brother?”

“He’s gonna see your face.” She complained.

“I know but by then, I’ll have an excuse. Please, Octavia.”

“Fine.” She sighed and you heard Bellamy’s voice in the distance.

“Thank you.” You nodded and ducked again before pushing through the crowd gathering to see what the team brought back.

You pushed into Clarke’s tent and there she was with Finn.

“I need your help.” You confessed and gestured to your face.

“Y/N, oh my god!” She exclaimed and ushered you to sit beside her.

You dropped cross-legged on the floor and shrugged your jacket off. Your hands landed in your lap as you allowed Clarke to move your face by your chin.

“This has gone too far.” She scolded.

“This was Murphy again?” Finn asked from Clarke’s side, shooting you wide and worried eyes.

“Yeah.” You admitted. “They want me off hunting, said I slow them down.” You mocked before blowing a sigh. “It’s not worth the fight anymore.”

“If you come off hunting, they’re gonna have to go more often. They don’t bring in enough when it’s just them.”

“They don’t care.” You shrugged. “But between them slamming into me, tripping me, pushing me, and now scratching the hell outta my face, I’m done with their little power plays. They wanna hunt so bad, be my guest.”

“What are you gonna tell Bellamy?” Clarke asked as she gently pressed a torn cloth to the sticky wounds and you winced. “Not much we can do to hide these.”

“That I’m too clumsy? Or I’m bored? I don’t know but I can’t tell him it was their idea. I get enough shit for the whole ‘king and queen’ thing.”

“He’s gonna lose his shit if he finds out. I mean, you heard what he did to Atom for kissing Octavia.” Finn continued. “Can’t imagine what he’d do to them for this.”

“I know.” You agreed and began to untie the braid you had done to keep your hair out of the way while you were hunting. “Hence why I have to convince him it’s my idea.”

“What’s your idea?” Bellamy spoke as he entered the tent and you jumped, shoving the cloth away and dropping your gaze down so your hair would hide your face.

“Finn, help me find the extra seaweed from the river that we used on Jasper.” Clarke said and you looked up at her in a panic. “I think it’ll help.” She offered genuinely.

“Help with what?” Bellamy asked. “Something happen out there?”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, Clarke.” You said through tight teeth and you subtly jerked your head towards Bellamy. “Don’t leave now.”

“What happened to your face, Y/N?” Bellamy asked, now kneeling in front of you.

You heard the two sets of feet leave and you sighed to yourself. With no other options, you tucked your hair out of the way and looked up to face him. You watched his eyes scan your face and linger on the still burning wounds on the side of your face. His jaw clenched and he took a deep breath before he took one of your hands in his.

“Who was it?” He asked lowly, staring at your joined hands.

“I tripped.” You lied and his shoulders shook slightly with a quiet laugh of disbelief. “Really, Bell. It’s fine.”

“Who did this to you, Y/N?” He urged, meeting your eyes. The anger in his stare could’ve burned a hole through the Ark.

“It…” You sighed and understood that there was no way that lie would work. “I don’t know who it was. They came up behind me and hit me against the roughest tree in the damn forest, apparently… But it does bring up something we need to talk about.”

He nodded for you to continue.

“I think, for a little while at least, I need to be off the hunting team.” You spoke carefully, treading lightly to avoid incriminating Murphy - despite deeply wanting to - and pissing off Bellamy more than he already was. “Something’s happened on almost every trip and it’s not productive.”

“What else has happened?” His brows furrowed.

Carefully, you lifted your shirt to show the bruise on your ribs from where Murphy had shoulder-checked you into a thick fallen tree trunk. Then you shifted the waistband in your pants to show the small collections of pricks from where Murphy pushed you into a small thorned bush. You flipped your lower lip to show the deep purple patch from the low hanging branch Murphy smacked you with. You pulled down the collar of your shirt to show your chest, littered with bruises and small knicks from the various falls you’d suffered by Murphy’s design.

“Just let Murphy lead them for a while.” You shrugged.

“They can’t feed this camp without you.” Bellamy shook his head. “What you brought in today will last us three or four days. They can barely get us through two.”

“Then send others with them to make up for it. I don’t know what you want from me, Bell.”

“I want you to tell me the truth.” He urged gently, though the demand didn’t go unnoticed. “One of those guys out there do this to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You sighed. “Tell me you agree.”

“I will when you tell me the truth.”

“Bellamy.” You groaned, drawing out his name.

He raised his eyebrows with a tilt of his head and you pursed your lips to form a small pout. The stare down only lasted for a few seconds before you broke and stared at your hands, safely tucked away within his grasp.

You knew you were safe with Bellamy. You could tell him anything, that much he always promised you. But Murphy was crafty, sneaky. He’d find a way to get to you when Bellamy wasn’t looking.

Yet if you told Bellamy, maybe he would be looking more often.

“Murphy and I got into an argument.” You began, carefully choosing your words. “We went back and forth and then I got shoved. I don’t know if he orchestrated it or if someone was just being opportunistic but I can’t keep this up. I’m tired and my body hurts and I just need a break.”

He nodded slightly, clearly still processing your words. You watched his eyes for some sort of hint to his reaction, but he was guarded in his thought process. His put a hand on your unmarked cheek and his thumb stroked your cheekbone gently.

“Okay.” He said quietly.

“That’s it?” You quirked a brow. “No trying to convince me otherwise?”

“No.” He laughed slightly. “Y/N, you’ve been out there fighting for us and taking all sorts of beatings. If that’s what you want, let Murphy get kicked around for a while.” He shrugged.

At that, you laughed.

Bellamy made the announcement later that day that you were taking a small break from hunting. You’d agreed to help build the wall while your latest injuries healed and offered to go wherever you were needed. No one said anything otherwise and you were glad it was an easy change.

Murphy and his friends walked by with mock salutes or bows, muttering about the king and queen. You wanted to put your knife in them right there but Bellamy was smooth in draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, even angling his body slightly in front of yours.

Once night came, you found yourself sitting on a log a few feet outside the wall. You had one leg up and your arms wrapped around it, head leaning against the side of your knee. Your eyes were upwards, counting the stars and trying to see the craters on the moon.

“Didn’t see enough space on the Ark?” Bellamy asked as he sat beside you.

“It’s different from here.” You reasoned. “It all seems so far away.”

“Yeah… You sure you’re alright?”

“Long live the king and queen.” You mocked. “They’re so stupid.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Us being together isn’t the only factor in us taking charge around here. We’re older. We’re smarter. We-“ You looked over and saw he was staring, soft eyes and a small smile on his lips. “Alright, lover boy. Are you even listening?” You laughed slightly.

“No.” He confessed with a laugh of his own. “I got distracted.”

“By what?” You were still smiling.

“Your eyes. The way they reflect the moonlight.”

“Oh.” Your cheeks flushed and your teasing smile became one of slight embarrassment.

“Every look, especially right now, makes me wanna give you… Everything.”

“Everything?” Your brows raised and you shifted to face him.

He reached for your hand and you gave it to him immediately.

“You are the queen after all.” He joked and you scoffed with a smile, pushing lightly at his chest.

“Aren’t you hilarious?” You said sarcastically before turning your face back to the sky. “I’ve always loved the moon, y’know. But down here, it’s like you can hold the moonlight.”

You reached your other hand out and cupped it, letting the moonlight illuminate your palm and fingers. You leaned back against Bellamy’s chest and he draped an arm over your shoulder, still keeping hold of your hand. You felt his chin on the other side and you let your head fall back a bit.

You understood exactly what he meant just a few moments ago. You wanted to give him everything too.

“Bell?” You asked simply.

“Mmm?” He hummed against the skin of your neck.

“You kinda remind me of moonlight.” You said simply.

“How?”

You shrugged slightly. “Different on the Ground. Beautiful and illuminating. Everyone looks at the moon and some love it, but the moon shines based on the sun. And when it does…”

“If I’m your moonlight, does that mean you’re my sunshine?” He asked and you wondered if he was serious or just teasing.

“Do you only light up ‘cause of me?”

“That’s why Octavia says.” He smiled at you. “I wouldn’t doubt it either.”

You smiled softly. “Then I guess so.”

#bellamy blake x y/n #bellamy x yn #bellamy x you #bellamy blake x you #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake fic #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake #bellamy t100 #t100 fic #t100 #t100 x reader

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ninikrumbs · 2 months ago

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Christmas love

satoru gojo x reader. for all my girlies spending christmas alone. fluffy fluff fluff. idiots in love. established relationship. ᰍ ׅ ۫ . 🧣 ೀ

The smell of cinnamon and pine wafts through the air, as Satoru and you left the Christmas Market. His hand held yours inside his jacket pocket as you watch him talk animatedly beside you.

“I’m sure my plans can’t compare to yours,sweets!”

Satoru was just about at the end of telling you his plans for the rest of Christmas week; Babbling excitedly about his Christmas dinner with his family, a short ski trip with Suguru and Shoko on the 25th, and even a reunion dinner with some old high school friends.

It wasn’t a surprise to you, Satoru was social, friendly, abundantly popular, and the life of every party so of course everyone wanted him around.

You laugh as genuinely as you could before answering him, “Of course! I’m jam packed, I feel like Christmas caroling is the only thing I’m not doing this week.”

Lies. Well not completely, you did have a few dinners lined up with a couple of close friends, even a birthday party. The only thing was your were gonna spend Christmas Eve and Christmas day alone.

A good few of your friends were married so they spent Christmas with their families or spouses, some where taking out of the country trips and some were working on Christmas day. It was a bit depressing, you weren’t exactly expecting to spend Christmas alone.

But at least you had today, which was your date with Satoru to go around the Christmas Village. You had fun, with the dinner, the ice skating, the slow dancing under the mistletoe with Satoru stealing a kiss, and now holding hands as the both of you walked to his car under the cold winter air. It was perfect.

Satoru’s lips quirk up, “Hmm, maybe we should go caroling next year! Start a new tradition together!”

While it moves your heart to bits that he can see you still being together next year this early into your one month relationship, it still stung that you won’t be spending Christmas with him this year. You honestly thought he would ask you when he started talking about his plans a few days ago, but then he started asking about your amazing plans so you decided to fib.

This connection is new and delicate. You couldn’t ask him to drop his traditions and plans for you; plans that were made before you started dating, that was just selfish and knowing him, he probably would drop everything if he found out about your non existent plans. So you chose not too, it’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.

You playfully roll your eyes at him, “Sure, Toru. You can take some singing lessons while your at it!”

He holds a hand to his heart in offense, gasping so dramatically, “I’ll have you know that I have the voice of an angel!”

“Babe..” You clasp his free hand before exhaling, “Whoever told you that was lying.”

You made a run for it the moment the words left your lips, laughing against the icy breeze.

Barely getting 5 steps away, strong arms capture your waist from behind, lifting you off your feet. Damn his long legs. “Gotcha!”

He places you down for one second before throwing you on his shoulder and starts walking.

“Satoru, put me down!” You grasp the back of his jacket, terrified of falling onto the icy pavement.

“Nope.” He says popping the p.

“I’m gonna fall!”

“You won’t.” Reassuring you by tightening his grasp on your waist.

“At least hold me with two arms!”

“Your man is the strongest, sweets. I only need one arm to carry you.”

You snort before mumbling, “Show off..”

He slaps a hand to your butt making you jump, startled. “I heard that.”

“Good.” Which earned you another soft spank to your butt, “Satoru! stop that and put me down, people are staring.”

Though you were sure they staring at your gorgeous boyfriend.

“Not until you say that your boyfriend is the most handsome man in the world and has a voice can even bring the dead to life!”

He was absolutely ridiculous, “No way!”

“Then your gonna be up there indefinitely.” He was joking you were sure of it, but there was nothing wrong in indulging him sometimes.

“Fine, I give!”

“Yessss!” He whoops in victory.

“Can you at least put me down?” You ask meekly.

He huffs, smoky air puffing out, “So you can run away again? Not happening.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I say it your face?”You say trying to convince him which makes him hum, thinking about it.

After a moment, he gently places you back on your feet but not without pulling you flush to his chest, holding you steady.

You were a little bit dizzy from the change of position, but you could still see Satoru’s bright azure eyes staring at you expectantly.

Once again, he was absolutely ridiculous yet you gaze at him with such exasperated fondness.

You reach up and softly brush his snowy bangs away from his face, your touch creating a light blush to dust his cheeks. “My boyfriend is the most handsome man in the world.”

Its makes his eyes gleam and smug smile curve on his lips. He was so pretty, so where was the lie?

“And..” You breathe out heavily as if it took everything in you say the next few words, “He has a voice that can bring the dead back to life.”

He grins victoriously and leans down to press a peck on your nose the your lips which makes you melt, “See? that wasn’t too hard.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” You grumble but with no real spunk behind it.

He presses another soft kiss to your lips, eyes filled with so much warmth, “The luckiest.”

You were still pouting when Satoru started walking towards the car again. Your gaze landing at your intertwined hands, no longer in his pocket. Your eyes drop when the reminder that you were gonna spend Christmas away from him creeps in your mind once more.

It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.

—

“Yeah, yeah, I’m all packed.” Satoru grumbles.

Shoko was nagging him about packing correctly for their ski trip. Make sure to bring your actual ski’s idiot. Like he didn’t know that. He forgot that one time. Big deal. He could just buy another pair at the ski resort.

“Hey, Gojo. I’m kinda surprise that your coming with us this year or I at least thought you wouldn’t be coming alone.”

He sighs, throwing himself on his bed with mood dropping instantly. “I didn’t want to pull y/n from her plans.”

The fact that he wasn’t spending Christmas with her made him so depressed, he doubts he was gonna have fun on this ski trip.

He thinks he made a good job at hiding his displeasure from her. Not wanting to come off more childish that he already did. But damn it did he want to see her. The phone call from earlier was barely enough to have his fill of you..

“Huh? What plans?” Shoko’s confused voice rings from the phone.

“Y’know, dinner plans or was it a Christmas girls night with her friends that they planned a whole while ago.”

The line goes quiet for a while, “Satoru..No, she doesn’t.”

Satoru’s heart drops at the certainty on her voice, “What are you talking about?”

—

Familiar tunes of popular Christmas hits floats throughout your apartment along with the scent of newly baked gingerbread muffins cooling down on your kitchen counter.

You took as sip of your hot coco from your ugly Christmas mug as you admired the twinkling lights on your small festive tree. The sound of your fireplace crackling made everything feel more cozy.

Christmas was a holiday you always enjoyed. Especially the traditions that came with it: the pretty lights, the colorful gifts, the white snow covering the pavements and roofs, the Christmas gatherings and how everyone seems to be extra nice this time of year. Ever since you were a kid, Christmas was simply magical.

You didn’t mind spending Christmas alone. You already had the evening filled with plans on baking which you had just finished, reading, and binge watching some cheesy Christmas movies.

Still, you find your mind wandering, even the magic of the fluffy snow falling down your window pane couldn’t fend off the prickle of loneliness dripping down your heart. Not to mention snow only reminded you of a certain someone.

You let out a sad exhale before catching yourself. Shaking your head, you put you mug down your coffee table and proceeded to clap your palms on your cheeks.

It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. There’s always next year. You can be selfish then.

After pathetically comforting yourself, you sit on the sofa planning to start perusing the dozens of Christmas films on Netflix.

Hmm, The Holidate sounds interesting. Fun and quirky, something that’s not gonna make you bawl your eyes out. Perfect.

The that’s intro comes up on the screen, but a sudden hard knock on your door makes you click pause.

Who could that be? Did you order something? Its probably a neighbor who needs a wine opener.

You make your way to the door, the incessant knocking continues. “I’m coming. jeez.”

You swing the the door open. The sight that greets you makes you take a step back, your heart tumbling over itself.

There he is with his hands on his knees, gasping for air like he ran a marathon to get here. Sweat lines his forehead despite the cold air. He runs a hands through his white strands as he happily grins at you,.

“Satoru, what are you doing here?” You ask skeptically, “Shouldn’t you be on your way to your ski trip?”

You couldn’t let yourself hope that he was here for you, maybe he forgot something in your apartment.

Yet he proves you wrong when he stands up to his actual height. His face flush from the effort, closes the door behind him and tugs you flushed to his warm chest. Your senses fills with his scent and you melt. He smells like home.

He plants a soft kiss to you temple as he buries his hand in you hair, breathing you in, “You didn’t think I was gonna let you spend Christmas alone, did ya?”

Your eyes grew wide before tears start to prickle your eyelids, the gravity of spending Christmas alone somehow finally sunk in at his words, making you clasp his back in distress. You weren’t fine at all. “How did you know..?”

He lets out a breath and pulls back at bit to gaze into your eyes. “It doesn’t matter, what matters is why didn’t you tell me?”

You drop his gaze, not able to form the words. How could you tell him? That you didn’t wanna look so pathetic. That you didn’t make any plans in hindsight of wanting to spend Christmas with him. It was either a Christmas with him or no one at all.

A hand on your chin guides you back to look at him, his face so distraught it made your heart clench. “Baby, I wanted nothing more than to spend Christmas with you.”

“But your plans..”

“Fuck those plans! I don’t care about them. I wanted to cancel every single one of them just so I could spend Christmas week with you.” He cries out.

“What?”

A finger wipes a stray tear from your eyes before cupping your cheek. His starry eyes looks at you with worry and a shed of guilt, “If I made you feel like Id rather spend time with other people than my gorgeous girlfriend, then I’m doing a horrible job as your boyfriend.”

“No! It just-” Despite his assurances you still couldn’t wrap your head around it, “I couldn’t just make you drop your plans, Toru. I’d feel too bad about it.”

He caresses a thumb down your cheek in understanding, “I mean sure we could have eaten dinner with my family, but other than that I would’ve been much happier spending my week with you, pretty.”

You don’t know if you felt relieved or embarrassed. Relieved that he felt the same way or embarrassed that he found out about you non existent plans. Okay, you were both.

You cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you try to explain yourself, “I’m sorry, Toru.. Its just what we have- its just so new and I didn’t know how to go about it and..” You give resigned sigh, “I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Oh, baby.” He coos, pulling me back to his chest. “There’s no ruining this, that would be next to impossible, especially you. If there’s anyone who has a chance of ruining this, its me. You might get sick or too annoyed with me one of these days.”

He might be joking, but you could hear the insecurity lacing his words.

“No way!” You place a kiss on his chin. “That’s impossible.”

“I’m happy you think so, pretty.”

He pulls away once more and hangs his jacket on your coat rack. Then proceeds to lead you to your living room where you had everything set, from your Christmas decorations, your muffins, the tree, to the fireplace, and the paused movie.

“And to think you were gonna have such a cozy night without me, you must really hate me.”

You roll your eyes at him dramatics, “That’s far from the truth.”

He plops himself on the sofa that were filled with cozy Christmas themed pillows and thick blankets. The image made your stomach feel warm. He was here. Satoru was here. He came for you.

Like he always does.

You feel like an idiot for doubting him. He tilts his head at you just standing there. “Come here.”

And you do. Though before you could sit beside him, he pulls you down to his lap. Your back to his chest, “There you go. Right where you belong.”

You giggle, “There’s enough space for the both of us to sit, Toru.”

“Too much space if it makes you sit away from me.” He pouts childishly, tightening his arms around your waist.

“That’s just..” You shake your head with a fond smile. He nuzzles you neck for a good while, as if trying to make up for the time your weren’t in his arms.

“Sweets, I’m sorry” He murmurs against you neck after a while making you turn your head to look at him. “For what?”

“I should have been honest from the start..” His voice tinge with regret, “I wanted to beg you to cancel your plans from the beginning but I didn’t want to be selfish.”

You smile sheepishly at him, “Yet you wanted me to be selfish?”

He blinks, “Of course, your my girlfriend. I love you more than anything.” His voice was lace with so much unfiltered love, it made your eyes sting, “You come above everything else. I want you be selfish with me.”

You furrow your eyebrows, overwhelmed by his dedication, “Toru, that’s too much..”

He merely shakes his head, “Never too much. Not when it come to you. I hope you know that.”

You maneuver yourself in his lap so that your facing him. His sparkling blue eyes twinkling under the lights. He was so pretty it almost hurt. His mere existence overwhelmed you in the best way.

Cupping his face, you move in closer, “Then you should be selfish with me too. Don’t be scared to ask more of me, Toru.”

He stares at you, eyes tracing your face as if committing every feature to memory,

“God, I love you.” He breathes out as he pulls you by the neck and closes the gap between your lips.

Your toes curl as his lips molded with yours, your arms curls around his neck pulling him closer as he angled his head to deepen the kiss.

He groans against your lips as his tongue dances with yours and you could hear the sound of your lips echoing around the living room.

He tasted like candy and cinnamon. It made your head spin and heart pound a mile a minute , your hand crawled down touch his chest to feel his heart racing as fast as yours.

Its like he couldn’t get enough as he kissed you like a man starved again, again and again.

You didn’t want it to ever stop, but there was one more thing you needed to tell him.

You pull away with his lips chasing yours, eyes in a daze making you giggle, “Toru, before I forget.”

“What?” He says, bright blue eyes still focusing on your kiss bitten lips.

You pinch his nose, hoping to make him focus. “Merry Christmas, Toru.”

He blinks and scrunches his nose, a bit of clarity seeping into him as he smiles tenderly at you, “Merry Christmas, baby. On every list I ever sent. You’re the gift I love the best.”

Merry Christmas to everyone around the world!

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sashaisready · 7 months ago

Text

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 19 - This must be the place

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Some very mild references to smut, grief

Last chapter....let's goooo

(gif doesn't reflect how reader looks)

You seemed to somehow move both in slow motion and in the fastest sprint of your life as you flung yourself at Bucky. He caught you with an audible ‘oof’ as you dived between his arms.

“Thank-you,” you squeaked tearily, burying your face into his shoulder, “thank-you”.

He didn’t speak, he just moved his arms around your back and held you firmly against him. You could feel the difference between metal and flesh as both enveloped you. Being back in his embrace was like meeting an old friend after a long absence – Safe. Familiar. Home. The two of you stayed like that for a moment. You weren’t really thinking, merely reacting. Bucky was almost perfectly still, as if any movement might break the trance.

You pulled away and looked up at him. He looked right back, his blue eyes practically burning into you.

“You knew this fence was important to me…”, you began.

He nodded, his face stoic.

“You knew that Granny asked me to do this…”

He nodded again.

“And…you were right,” you hesitated, “I have been putting it off. I guess…I guess it feels very final. It was the last thing I needed to do with this place. The last thing I needed to do…for her”.

He cleared his throat as he dropped his gaze, his voice soft, “I just thought it might help…if you didn’t have to think about it, it might be easier for you. And then…easier for you to leave”.

“Thank-you…”, you sniffed, “Do…do you want me to leave?”

His face suddenly hardened, and your heart ached as you thought he might tell you that he did, but his fingers dug deeper into your waist as if he were afraid that you would let him go.

“Of course not,” he replied gruffly, as if you’d insulted him. “Losing you has already been a nightmare. I don’t even know how I’m gonna feel when you’re really gone and I won’t even be able to bump into you around town. But you need to do what’s right for you. You need to be free to make your own decisions. If this fence is holding you back, I want to help you move forward”.

He looked at you as he told you this, those blue eyes carrying a depth of intensity that overwhelmed you.

You didn’t respond, just stared back at him, your mouth slightly agape. His words had stunned you. He was putting you first – your needs, your dreams. He had done all of this – the car, the fence – not as some grand gesture to win you back and show you what a good guy he was, but because it was to help you. To make you happy.

Bucky wasn’t necessarily a man of many words, but his actions spoke louder than he ever could. You understood that now. It didn’t magically undo the hurt he’d caused back at the bar, but it showed you that he was willing to support and be there for you, for the sake of your own happiness rather than his.

“Buck…” you whispered.

You didn’t even know you’d done it until your hand found his cheek, cupping it slightly. He turned his face into your palm and closed his eyes, as if relishing the feeling of your skin on his. The two of you stayed this way for a short while. It was nice to just be with each other for a moment, not weighed down by your complex shared history.

“Can I say something?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

You found yourself nodding.

He sighed as he moved from your hand and turned away, seemingly trying to gather the words.

“I don’t know why…I did that. Why I went through your purse that night. I’ve replayed it over and over in my mind and I wish I had a real answer for you, but I don’t. As I did it, I thought to myself ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’ and then I found the cash…and everything just went blank. I was so hurt by the possibility that you might have done that to me…that maybe you didn’t care about me the way I cared about you…and it’s like I lost all reason. And I know I should’ve come to you privately, and apologised for doubting you, and going through your stuff. I should’ve asked to talk rather than yelling…but my temper got the best of me. It’s not excusable. And it’s not enough. But it’s the truth. And truly, I am sorry.”

You looked at your feet as your stomach felt like it was tumbling to your knees. His sincerity burned in your ears.

“I didn’t tell you this…but before that happened, I knew I was…falling in love with you,” he said quietly.

Your face flushed and everything around you went a bit blurry but you still couldn’t quite handle meeting his eye.

He cleared his throat and continued. “And maybe…I don’t know…maybe on some level I was trying to sabotage it. Because it freaked me out, how I felt…I mean, and because I knew you’d be leaving, and maybe part of me was looking for reasons to end things before I got in too deep. Before it hurt too much. And that’s cowardly…and shitty…and inexcusable, but I guess that’s me. I’m not…good at this, Sugar. I struggle with my feelings. I can’t really regulate my emotions sometimes. Which is embarrassing as a grown ass man. But I’m trying to learn and be better”.

You finally managed to look up, your heart pounding in your chest as his admission sank in.

“Thank-you Bucky…I appreciate that…” you said quietly, “I just…it broke my heart that you could think I could do something like that. To anyone…let alone you”.

He sighed heavily, his regret evident, “I know. I know that isn’t you. And I know you don’t believe me…but that wasn’t me either, or at least not who I want to be. I’m ashamed by how I acted”.

The silence hung heavily between you both until you spoke again.

“I…I was falling in love with you too,” you admitted shyly, “that night…I had planned to tell you. Before…y’know”.

“Fuck…” Bucky winced, his voice low, “…I couldn’t have fucked it up any more than I did, huh?”

He smiled crookedly at you and playfully slugged your shoulder, an attempt at levity, but you could see the tension in his face.

You smiled back. “I guess…I guess I understand why you’d be freaked out. I was freaked out too. I kept thinking about what would happen when I left and doing my best to push it to the back of my mind. Just completely avoiding it. I guess neither of us really dealt with it….”

He took your hand in his, squeezing it softly. You took a deep breath as you looked into the depths of his baby blues and everything suddenly felt a bit clearer. You decided in that moment that enough was enough. No more dancing around the hard stuff. You owed it to yourself to lead a life where you tackled the problems head on, rather than hoping they went away by themselves or that someone else found the solution for you. Because dealing with the hard stuff is living, even if you’re uncomfortable in the process. Keeping your head in the sand was merely treading water, kicking the can down the road didn’t make it go away. You owed it to you. You owed it to Granny. You wanted to make her proud. And if it didn’t work out? Hell, it didn’t work out even when you did nothing. So you should at least try to have a say in your fate, even if you’d be knocked back sometimes.

“Buck…”

“Yeah, Sug?”

“I…I don’t…” you hesitated.

“Don’t what, Sug?” he asked gently, his fingers squeezing your palm.

“I don’t…”, you exhaled, “I don’t…want to leave”.

He tilted his head as he looked back at you, a look that took you back to every morning you woke up next to him, to every kiss you’d stolen, to every moment you’d spent in your bubble – just the two of you, hidden away from the rest of the world.

He reached his hand out towards you, his finger propping up your chin.

“Are you sure?” he asked quizzically as he held your face.

“No,” you laughed nervously, “but I never am. All I truly know is…I’m not ready to go yet”.

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as the world around you disappeared, “then…don’t”.

And then he kissed you.

You weren’t sure how the kiss was somehow saccharine yet sexy, desperate yet patient, all at the same time. You pushed yourself into him as his arms wrapped around you, holding you impossibly close. The rough stubble of his beard pressing into your cheek, pleasantly scratching at your chin as you silently remembered how it had felt all those times before. His familiar scent made you giddy, all cologne and the faintest hint of motor oil, the subtle caress of his laundry soap from his white t-shirt.

It wasn’t a movie-perfect kiss by any means – teeth clashed; heads bumped – but it didn’t need to be. It said the unsaid. It was real. It felt like coming home.

He pulled away for a moment, looking at you with puzzlement as he seemed to fully take you in for the first time.

“What?” you uttered breathily, a pang of anxiety that he might be regretting what he’d done.

“Are those…my boxers?” he asked incredulously, the familiar shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

You looked down at yourself, the flush of embarrassment working its way to your cheeks as you remembered that you’d gone outside in your pyjamas, initially expecting a delivery driver.

“You left them…they’re comfy,” you sputtered with mortification, shifting your arms over your thighs in a weak attempt to cover up his stolen underwear.

“Have you…have you been wearing them this whole time?” he smirked, “Since we broke up?”

“They’re comfy! And you left them at my place…finders keepers!” you spat back, annoyed at his amusement.

“Sugar…you keep ‘em,” he smiled as he pulled you towards him, “they look better on you, anyhow”.

You rolled your eyes, batting him away as you poorly masked your smile.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you groaned.

“Gladly…”

And he did.

Six months later…

You waved animatedly at Wanda and Vis as they entered The Snake Pit, smiling as you began to prepare their usual drinks. Wanda beamed back at you and Vis pointed to a free table, giving you a thumbs up as they settled in and took their jackets off. ‘I’ll be right there!’ you mouthed exaggeratedly at them as you plucked a couple of glasses out from beneath the bar.

“Settle a bet for us, would ya?” Sam asked as he and Clint pulled out the stools in front of you and sat down.

“Nope…” you muttered sternly as you poured Wanda’s usual, “Nooot getting involved with your bets. Not anymore. I learned my lesson from the firecracker incident…”

“…we all did,” piped up Steve from a few stools along, glaring warningly at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes, “ohh don’t be so dramatic…it was fine”.

“Only because we’d just upgraded our fire extinguishers,” Steve barked as he sipped from his beer glass with contempt.

You giggled with amusement as the three of them erupted into bickering, with a passing Thor and Parker also joining to pick their side of the argument.

“Business as usual, huh Sug?” came a voice from behind you, as a metal arm wrapped itself around your hips.

“You know it…” you chuckled as you turned to face Bucky, rolling your eyes good-naturedly.

He grinned and leaned over to kiss you, causing the MC members in front of you to groan.

“Shut your pieholes,” Bucky admonished with a sneer, “If I wanna give my old lady a kiss, she gets a kiss”.

“We know…” Sam sighed. “Everyone within a twenty-mile radius knows, the way you’re all over her…”

“Well, I damn well hope so,” Bucky replied as he glared over at the corner of the bar, “there’s a guy over there who was getting a bit close…”

“Oh relax…” you laughed as you finished pouring the drinks, “he just couldn’t hear me over the jukebox while he was ordering…”

Bucky scoffed, “Yeah…like I haven’t heard that one before…”

“It’s true,” Steve chimed in solemnly, “we’ve all used that one…”

The group descended into gregarious laughter and chatter, so you used the opportunity to slip away – bringing Wanda and Vis their drinks. You talked with them for a while as you transferred their glasses from the tray to their table. Their wedding planning was going well, although they still had a lot to do.

You caught Bucky’s eye from across the room and the two of you shared a smile, almost conspiratorial in its intimacy. For a minute you were transferred back to the old days, when nobody knew about your relationship, and it was just the two of you – sneaking around, the two sole holders of something clandestine, something private – just for you both.

Bucky was loud and proud about your relationship now, and sure, you were also proud to be his old lady. You weren’t a dirty secret or something to keep quiet, but that didn’t mean you didn’t sometimes long for the intimate silence of days gone by.

You’d called off the house sale as soon as you and Bucky had shared the kiss out on your lawn. Granny’s house was yours now, although you and Bucky had spent some time making it more ‘you’, helping to exorcise the ghosts and put your own little spin on it. You knew she’d approve.

You and Bucky were enjoying being together, but you still lived apart. There was no hurry to do much else, for now. You’d got your old job back, you’d spent more time with the MC, and started to build a life here in this town. It was nice to finally start to lay down roots, to finally find somewhere you felt like you belonged.

Getting to know Bucky again was part of that, you had forgiven him for what had happened – but it wasn’t a magic wand. Trust always takes time to rebuild. And what was the rush? You loved him. He loved you. Neither of you were going anywhere. Milestones would happen in time.

Although you spent most of your nights together…

And sometimes you couldn’t wait until you got home…the bar’s office had seen it’s fair share of action…

He wasn’t always great with words, but his actions said everything he needed to. He would regularly tune Sally up and fill her tank, you couldn’t remember the last time you needed to go to a gas station. He’d make you breakfast, bringing it to you in bed as you lazily rolled over and smiled at him through half open eyes. He’d take you out on his bike, encouraging you to hold him tight around his middle as he upped the speed – listening to your squeal of excitement as the wind whipped through your hair. He’d even arranged a charity donation box for the animal shelter and propped it at the end of the bar, a photograph of Granny proudly mounted behind it – every penny and dollar collected in her honour.

It felt like he was honouring you, too.

You’d often think about him sleeping out on that road for you, insisting he stay despite you pushing him to go. You thought about him fixing the fence so you could freely leave on your own terms. He was the first person (apart from Granny of course) to fight for you. Even when it got tough. You felt very lucky to be loved like that, to be seen like that.

Peter Quill had mysteriously left town a few months ago. You had interrogated Bucky, asking if it was a coincidence that he apparently got a new job out of state, but he maintained it was. You weren’t so sure, but you wouldn’t pry. You just hoped it was true. Peter had sent you one finally text apologising for his behaviour, explaining that what had happened between you had been the catalyst to get therapy. You hoped that was true, too.

Tom, the once-thief, was doing well in the rehab facility over in the city. The staff there seemed positive that he’d come a long way with his gambling and was on the right track.

As you headed back to the bar, tray tucked under your arm, you saw Amber and gave her a wave as she headed over to her new boyfriend, Eddie. He seemed nice, even if you think you caught him talking to himself over by the men’s room once. She smiled back at you as you passed.

You resumed your post, serving a round of beers to a few guys as Bucky stood behind you, his hand on your waist as he chatted with Steve. As the customer handed you a cash tip and left, Bucky leaned in and kissed your temple without even looking up. It was as if he was on auto pilot, unable to avoid it. Life was good. Maybe this ‘making decisions’ thing wasn’t so bad after all.

You placed your tip into the shelter donation box and smiled wryly at Granny’s picture as you passed, then went back to serving.

“Who’s next?”

THE END

Hiiiii! Thanks again to anyone who reblogged/left a comment for this story, it’s honestly been wonderful and I hope you enjoyed how it ended. I know a few of you didn’t think Bucky had atoned enough, and I’m sorry if that’s the case. I’m pretty satisfied with the journey he took!

If you aren’t familiar with the title, it’s my favourite Talking Heads song and I think it’s really beautiful – the lyrics partly inspired this fic, you can find them here if you’re interested.

Once again, thanks for your support. My Ko-Fi link is here if you’d like to support me further (but no pressure obv!). It’s wonderful to be in such a great community!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #this must be the place fic #biker!bucky #motorcycle club au bucky

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