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freedomfireflies · 9 months ago

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Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it.

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine.

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door.

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions.

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence.

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say.

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?”

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over.

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out.

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment.

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh.

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.”

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit.

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one.

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy.

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle.

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment.

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon.

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up.

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow.

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.”

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

��Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat.

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further.

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop.

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent.

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot.

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave.

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open.

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

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ye4gerz · 9 days ago

Text

my game, your rules. — ldh part two

‧˚⭒ pairing: lee donghyuck x afab reader 18+MDNI ‧˚⭒ genre: brothers best friend au! fake dating! friends to lovers! humor! fluff! angst! smut! adult life au! jenos sister! flirty hc! ‧˚⭒ word count: 6.5k+ ‧˚⭒ cw: lots of smut towards the end. dirty talking, raw sex, reader has to talk on the phone while getting railed lmao. drinking. spitting. hyuck turns into a dom. ‧˚⭒ summary: you’re fed up with your family constantly telling you how to live your life, but what would they think if you showed up with your brother’s best friend as your new boyfriend? even worse—what happens when you realize you’re actually falling for him?

‧˚⭒ a/n: thank you for your patience guys! if you haven’t already, pls comment to let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist for the rest of the series. enjoy!

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You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the computer screen in front of you. The spreadsheet was a mess of numbers that no longer made sense, blurring together like static.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You blinked and looked up to see Renjun leaning against the edge of your desk, an incredulous expression on his face.

“What’s got you so distracted today?”

You shot him a glare and grabbed your coffee, taking a deliberate sip. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

“Sure,” he teased, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. “Well, whoever he is, he’s doing a great job living in your head rent-free.”

You choked mid-sip, nearly spilling the coffee in the process. “There’s no he! I told you—I’m just tired!”

Renjun’s chuckle echoed through the office as you slumped back in your chair, muttering curses under your breath.

That was just the kind of work relationship you had with Renjun—teasing, sarcastic, and occasionally helpful, though you’d never admit that last part. He’d been a mutual friend of Karina’s, and luckily for you, she’d used her connections to get you into the company.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with our marketing proposals, feel free to keep daydreaming,” he said with a shake of his head, clearly amused.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. The last thing you needed was to get distracted at work. The past few weeks had been a relentless cycle of trying to prove yourself, dragging your name into meetings, and praying the higher-ups would finally take you seriously.

Renjun had already managed to make himself known. Despite being in the same intern program, he’d been invited to several major meetings while you were stuck at your desk, double-checking numbers and responding to emails no one cared about.

So when your boss finally invited you to sit in on a big meeting tomorrow, you knew you couldn’t mess this up. This was it. This was everything you’d been hoping for—a chance to prove yourself, to show that you were capable of more than spreadsheets and inbox cleanup.

And yet, here you were, staring at your monitor while your thoughts drifted elsewhere. To Haechan.

You and Haechan had officially planned a day for him to meet your family—as your boyfriend, that is. They were already familiar with him, given all the times he’d tagged along with Jeno. Now they were curious, eager to see this new side of him.

The closer the day came, the more nervous you grew. As if sensing your anxiety, Haechan spent more time with you, lingering around whenever you got home from work.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you grumbled, half-heartedly trying to shoo him away as he lounged on your couch.

He didn’t budge, grinning up at you. “I’ve got a couple of ideas in mind, but you’d probably kill me.” His gaze flickered up and down, far too obvious for your liking.

Your face immediately warmed. “You’re getting ahead of yourself now,” you snapped, your voice rising an octave.

Haechan shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “So what’s the game plan? We show up for dinner, gush about how madly in love we are, and then dip?”

You rolled your eyes. “Something like that.”

But his teasing faltered when he noticed the subtle shift in your demeanor—the way your shoulders tensed, your fingers fidgeting at your sides. His tone softened. “What’s on your mind right now?”

You hesitated, your gaze drifting toward the floor. “I have this really important meeting at work tomorrow—it could make or break everything for me,” you admitted, biting your lip. “Then there’s the dinner we need to plan, and after that, I have to come up with a way for us to pretend–break up. I’m still giving Jeno updates on this whole mess while trying to find my own place in case he actually does want me to leave. I haven’t even seen Karina since the arcade, and on top of all that, my coworker is depending on me not to screw up this presentation.”

You paused, exhaling heavily. “So why does it feel like all I keep doing is ruining things for myself?”

The words tumbled out before you could stop yourself. You froze mid-rant, shaking your head. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t be unloading all of this on you.”

Haechan’s expression softened, concern replacing his usual playfulness. “Hey,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I’m your best friend—well, besides Karina, of course—but you can always open up to me.”

Before you could protest, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a gentle hug. He swayed you slightly, one hand rubbing the top of your head in a soothing rhythm.

“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” he said quietly, his voice steady and warm. “It’s okay to be worried. Just remember to take small steps before you try to jump ahead of yourself. Don’t stress about the dinner—leave that all to me, okay? Same goes for Jeno and everything that comes after. Let me take that burden off your shoulders.”

You looked up at him, your chin resting against his chest. “Are you sure? I’m the one who put you in this position in the first place.”

“Nonsense,” he chuckled, his gaze meeting yours. “This was my idea, remember? We do this, and you get to live an easier life. I’ll make sure of that.” He leaned down slightly, the corners of his lips lifting into a soft, reassuring smile. “I promise to make this life less of a burden for you, pretty girl.”

Your breath caught, the words hitting you harder than you expected. Suddenly, you became acutely aware of everything—the closeness, the warmth of his embrace, the faint brush of his breath against your skin.

You gulped, your heart thudding a little too loudly in your chest. What are you doing?

For a moment, neither of you moved. His eyes lingered on yours, unreadable but intense, and it sent a wave of nervous energy rushing through you. You couldn’t fall for this. You wouldn’t.

Pulling back ever so slightly, you cleared your throat, breaking the moment. “Thanks, Hyuck. I mean it.”

“Anytime,” he replied softly, his hands lingering at your sides before he finally let you go.

As he stepped back, you busied yourself with brushing imaginary lint off your clothes, anything to distract yourself from the fact that you’d just felt safe in his arms and that it scared you more than anything else.

“I have an idea,” he proposed, leaning slightly closer with that familiar spark in his eyes.

You sighed lightheartedly, already wary. “You and your ideas.”

He only grinned, unfazed. “This one’s a real one, I promise. How does this sound? I’ll order us takeout, and I’ll help you practice for your presentation.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his offer, and you paused, caught off guard. He noticed it too, his gaze softening as he watched you process your thoughts.

“No silliness, I swear,” he added quickly, raising one hand in mock oath while the other rested dramatically over his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

You looked at him then—really looked at him. His playful smirk had faded just enough to reveal something else underneath; a quiet determination to make sure you were okay, to make sure this went smoothly for you.

And just like that, you couldn’t resist.

“Fine,” you relented with a small smile. “But you’re paying for the takeout.”

He grinned triumphantly. “Deal. You get to choose what we’re ordering, by the way. I’m generous like that.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny it; takeout did sound good, and maybe, just maybe, his help wouldn’t be so bad. Even if he did goof around here and there.

By the time the takeout arrived, you were already seated on the couch, laptop open and presentation slides pulled up. Haechan set the food on the coffee table, making himself comfortable beside you.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” he said, handing you a pair of chopsticks. “We eat, you present, and I give you my expert-level feedback.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Expert-level?”

“Hey, I’ve sat through enough of Jeno’s late-night study sessions to know how these things work,” he replied, smirking as he unwrapped his food. “Besides, I’m a very tough crowd.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, but you better be serious about this.”

“I’m always serious when it counts,” he shot back, and something about the way he said it made your heart flutter just a little.

With your nerves settling slightly, you took a deep breath and began walking through your presentation. As you spoke, pointing at graphs and summarizing your key points, Haechan listened intently, nodding in all the right places. It was a side of him you didn’t see often—focused, attentive, and surprisingly serious.

“Okay, pause,” he said after you finished your first run-through, leaning forward with an earnest expression. “First off, you sounded confident, which is good, but here—” he gestured to one of the slides—“you lost me a little. The numbers are strong, but you need to explain why they matter. Connect them to your main point more clearly.”

You blinked at him, genuinely surprised. “That’s… actually really helpful.”

“I told you I’m good at this,” he teased, but his tone remained gentle. “Let’s go over that section again, and this time, think of it as telling a story. Hook them in.”

For the next hour, you practiced, tweaking your phrasing and pacing as Haechan offered thoughtful critiques between bites of food. He was playful enough to keep you relaxed but serious when it mattered, pointing out where you could improve and hyping you up when you nailed a section. It also helped mid way when Jeno came home to find you two together, he kept his distance and comments to himself, but couldn’t help to smile as he made his way to his room.

“See?” Haechan said finally, sitting back with a proud grin. “You’re gonna kill it tomorrow.”

You let out a deep breath, smiling despite yourself. “Thanks, Hyuck. I mean it.”

“Anytime, pretty girl,” he replied softly, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment too long before he stood to clean up. “Now go get some rest. You’ve got this.”

The next morning, you walked into the conference room with your laptop tucked under your arm and your heart pounding in your chest. The senior executives were already seated at the long table, their expressions unreadable as they greeted you politely.

Renjun shot you a reassuring smile from the corner of the room, mouthing a quick “Good luck.”

Taking a deep breath, you set up your presentation, your fingers shaking slightly as you clicked to the first slide. You can do this, you reminded yourself.

Haechan’s voice echoed in your mind: “Hook them in. Tell a story.”

And so you did.

You began strong, your voice steady as you introduced the proposal. You outlined the key strategies you and Renjun had developed, seamlessly weaving data into a clear narrative. As you reached the section where you’d stumbled the night before, you found yourself explaining the numbers with confidence, emphasizing their relevance with ease.

The executives nodded along, some even jotting down notes as you spoke. You caught glimpses of interest in their expressions—raised brows, subtle nods—little victories that spurred you on.

By the time you reached the conclusion, your pulse had slowed, your confidence solid.

“And that concludes our proposal,” you finished, meeting the eyes of the room. “Thank you for your time.”

For a beat, there was silence, and the anxiety you’d pushed down began to creep back up—until the senior manager at the head of the table smiled.

“Well done,” she said, closing her folder. “That was clear, concise, and well-executed. This has real potential. We’ll discuss further details and get back to you.”

You blinked, stunned for a moment, before nodding. “Thank you,” you managed, relief washing over you.

Renjun met you at the door once the meeting ended, grinning from ear to ear. “You nailed it!”

“Really?” you breathed, a smile breaking across your face.

“Really,” he confirmed. “They looked impressed.”

As you made your way back to your desk, you couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your lips. You’d done it. The meeting you’d stressed over for weeks—you’d nailed it.

You pulled out your phone under your desk, typing out a quick message.

You: killed the meeting. you’re the best fake boyfriend ever.

Seconds later, your phone buzzed with a reply.

HC: i’m not surprised. told you you’d kill it. go ahead, admit that i’m your good luck charm ;)

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head, deciding to give in to his antics.

You: fine, you’re the best fake boyfriend and greatest good luck charm i could ever ask for. does that sound better?

HC: that’s what i like to hear, baby.

“Here’s to being a full-time marketing assistant!” you cheered, clinking your shot glass against Haechan’s, the two of you seated in the cozy corner of a dimly lit restaurant.

It hadn’t been long since the presentation day and you were pulled into the senior manager’s office alongside Renjun. The memory still felt surreal—her sharp, confident voice replaying in your head as if it had just happened.

“You two have something the team can really benefit from,” she had said, smiling as if she already knew how much this meant to you. “We incorporated some of your ideas from the previous presentation into the current project, and the feedback has been astonishing. We’d like to offer both of you full-time entry positions and officially put you in charge of strategies moving forward.”

Joy didn’t even begin to cover it. Renjun and yourself had accepted immediately, emotions bubbling over as you practically floated out of her office, and then she called you back.

“Your growth here since you first started has been remarkable,” she’d said, her words lingering with unexpected warmth. “Continue to keep up the good work.”

The encouragement had sent you over the moon. The grin on your face hadn’t faded since.

Now, here you were—celebrating over dinner with Haechan. It was his idea, of course. He’d texted you the moment you told him the news, insisting you couldn’t let something this big slide by without a proper celebration.

Prior to the dinner, you had grabbed your coat and prepared to meet Haechan, your phone buzzed. It was Karina.

Karina: CONGRATULATIONS ON THE PROMO BABE!! how are we celebrating tonight?!

You sighed, leaning against the wall as you typed back quickly, realizing you’ve been so busy with Haechan, you never got around to telling her what’s really going on.

You: thank you babe!!! and about that… i’m actually going out to dinner.. with haechan lmao.

The three dots appeared immediately.

Karina: HAECHAN?! as in jeno’s best friend haechan?? the same guy who’s always flirting with you, haechan???

Biting your lip, you debated what to tell her. For a brief moment, you considered lying, but Karina was your best friend. If anyone deserved the truth, it was her.

You hit the call button instead, knowing a text wouldn’t do it justice.

“I swear, it’s not what you think,” you started the moment she picked up.

“What?! I was just starting to get excited!” Karina replied, her voice sharp with curiosity. “Explain yourself.”

“It’s… complicated,” you admitted, chewing on your bottom lip. “Haechan and I are fake dating. Just for a while.”

There was silence on the other end. Then: “You’re WHAT?”

“It’s a long story,” you rushed on before she could interrupt. “My family’s been nagging me to get my life together, so Haechan offered to pretend to be my boyfriend. It’s nothing real—we’re just buying me some time until they get off my back.” you lower your tone, thanking God, Jeno was gaming in the other room, unable to hear you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said flatly. “This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done.”

“I know,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “But it’s working. Sort of.”

Karina sighed dramatically, though you could hear the smile in her voice. “Okay, but if you catch feelings, I’m saying ‘I told you so’ first. Good luck surviving a fake relationship with someone who’s totally into you.”

After hanging up and adjusting your coat, you took one final look at yourself in the mirror. If there was anyone who would tell it like it is, it was Karina. As much as she swore Haechan was into you, a small voice in the back of your mind insisted you were overthinking it. Maybe he just wanted some fun.

You couldn’t ignore the facts. Based on his past relationships, Haechan had always jumped from one person to another, or things simply didn’t work out at all. He’d brushed it off before, claiming those weren’t real relationships—just distractions to keep him occupied, but that was years ago, before the two of you had grown closer as friends.

Since then, he’d been single. So what if this “fake relationship” was just his way of chasing the thrill he used to have? A perfect opportunity for fun without the mess of commitment.

The thought settled uncomfortably in your chest, but you pushed it away, letting out one last sigh before stepping out to meet him.

You’d briefly considered telling Jeno about your big news—maybe even inviting him out to celebrate—but the thought quickly passed. The last thing you wanted was to hear yet another lecture or feel the weight of someone else rushing your success. Tonight was about you, and for once, you wanted peace.

If there was anyone you’d rather spend the night celebrating with, it was Haechan. That alone felt like more than enough.

“You didn’t have to go all out like this,” you said, gesturing toward the table, where your favorite dishes sat alongside the drinks he’d ordered for both of you.

“I absolutely did,” Haechan replied, pouring you another shot, his grin smug but genuine. “You’re a big shot now, Miss Genius Full-Timer. I figured it’s only fair to treat you like one.”

You snorted, shaking your head, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “A genius, huh? I’ll remind you of that next time you call me boring for working late.”

He laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Fair enough, but seriously, I’m proud of you. You worked your ass off for this, you deserve it.”

His words caught you off guard. It wasn’t just what he said, but the way he said it��softly, earnestly, without a hint of his usual teasing tone. You stared at him for a moment, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in your chest.

“Thanks, Hyuck,” you said quietly, and for a second, you let yourself sit in the moment.

Of course, Haechan couldn’t let things stay serious for too long. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now,” he teased, raising his shot glass with a wink. “To the coolest, smartest, and prettiest girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

The verbiage caught you off guard, wondering if he meant to say it like that. You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re the one drinking with me, so what does that say about you?”

You shook your head, raising your glass anyway. “To me, I guess.”

“To you,” he echoed, clinking his glass against yours once more.

The two of you lingered at the restaurant longer than you expected, your conversations flowing easily between teasing banter and genuine moments of reflection. Haechan had a way of making you forget about the pressure—of making even the most overwhelming days feel a little less heavy.

When the bill arrived, you instinctively reached for your purse, but he waved you off with a look of mock offense. “Put that away. I told you this was my treat.”

“Haechan, you really don’t have to—”

“I’ll start a tab and make Jeno pay if you keep arguing,” he cut in smoothly, flashing that infuriating grin of his. “Let me have my moment.”

You sighed but relented, tucking your wallet back into your bag. “Okay… but I’m paying next time.”

“We’ll see about that,” he replied, standing up and holding your coat out for you like a gentleman.

As the two of you walked out into the crisp night air, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Haechan noticed immediately. It could be the buzz from the drinks you two shared but something about being in his presence was better than anything else.

“What’s that look for?” he asked, narrowing his eyes playfully.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly, though you couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. “It’s just… tonight was really nice. I needed it.”

His teasing expression softened into something warmer. “Anytime, beautiful.”

You looked away, suddenly too aware of how close he was as you walked side by side. Your heart fluttered for reasons you refused to admit to yourself, and you cursed the way he always managed to affect you without even trying.

It’s just Hyuck, you reminded yourself. This is just part of the plan.

As your hands brushed against each other, his fingers found yours. For a moment, you blamed it on the alcohol, but when neither of you pulled away, your fingers interlocked naturally. Haechan smiled at you—soft, content, and just a little smug. At that moment, you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince anymore.

“Wanna come over to my place?” he asked casually, though there was a playful glint in his eyes.

“Sure,” you replied with a soft grin, “as long as it’s clean this time.”

He groaned dramatically. “That was one time! I’ll have you know my place is spotless these days.” He paused, grinning smugly. “If you don’t believe me, I can show you how clean my bed is.”

“Nice try,” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you nudged him playfully. “Good luck with that.”

Even as you teased him, you didn’t let go of his hand, and neither did he.

His place was definitely a lot cleaner than you remembered—actually, it felt more spacious too. Haechan took your coat from you with a small smile, letting you bask in the warmth and comfort of his apartment.

“Told you so,” he said smugly as he hung your coat up.

“You planned this out, didn’t you?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him.

He chuckled, the sound low and easy. “Yeah, sure, baby.”

There he went again, throwing out those pet names when they were completely unnecessary. You rolled your eyes, pretending it didn’t affect you as much as it did.

You made your way to the couch, settling in as Haechan returned with two glasses of wine, setting them carefully on the coffee table. “More alcohol to celebrate,” he announced, flashing you a grin as he sat down beside you.

“So what show are you feeling?” he asked, his arm draping over the back of the couch, close but not quite touching you.

You glanced around his apartment, your eyes catching on his speakers. Bringing the glass to your lips for a small sip, you made a suggestion instead. “How about we just listen to music and talk?”

Haechan paused for a moment before nodding, a smirk pulling at his lips. “That’s why you’re the genius—you come up with all the good ideas.” He shot you a wink before moving to connect his phone to the speaker.

Soft R&B melted into the room, filling the air with an atmosphere that felt too intimate, too comfortable. Haechan returned to his spot next to you, a little closer this time, the space between you barely there. His arm slid along the back of the couch, and you could feel the warmth of him radiating beside you.

“What’s on your mind tonight?” he asked softly, his voice so casual yet so deliberate.

Him.

If you were being honest, it was all him—the tension that had been building between you two, the countless hours spent together that made the line between friendship and something more blurrier by the day. You’d felt it in the way his teasing turned softer, in the glances that lingered a beat too long.

Now, sitting here with his deep brown eyes meeting yours, you couldn’t deny it. The way his lips looked so… desirable. The way his hair fell perfectly against his forehead, sometimes parting in that effortlessly cute way. Or the fact that half the time, you forgot what he was saying because you’d gotten distracted staring at the faint moles scattered across his face.

You swallowed thickly and told yourself it was just the alcohol talking.

You licked your lips nervously, unable to stop your gaze from flickering to his mouth as you shifted on the couch. “Can I ask you something?” you murmured.

“Anything,” he replied without hesitation, his stare deepening as he looked at you.

You exhaled softly, your fingers tightening around your wine glass. “Why all the pet names? I mean, Jeno’s not here, so who are we trying to fool?” Your voice was steady, but your eyes betrayed you—they lingered on his lips, no matter how much you fought it.

Haechan noticed. Of course he noticed.

He shifted closer, the arm behind you dipping lower until you could feel his presence surrounding you. “Who said anything about wanting to fool around?” he asked, his voice dropping to something almost husky.

You blinked at him, breath hitching as the room suddenly felt much smaller.

“What if I like it?” he continued, his lips a breath away from yours now. “What if I mean all of it? Would that be a problem, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t look away—couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Your gaze fell to his mouth as your pulse raced, and then you felt it; the careful weight of his hand resting on your thigh, his fingers light but deliberate.

Your breath stuttered, and you looked down, hyper aware of every single point of contact between the two of you.

This wasn’t really happening, was it? But as Haechan tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, you weren’t so sure anymore.

"I asked you a question," he murmured, his voice low and dripping with intent. His hands slid slowly toward your waist, fingers brushing against your skin in a way that left you breathless.

"But.. we’re just friends—shit—Donghyuck..." you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a plea as his hands gripped your waist firmly, his breath hot against the sensitive curve of your neck.

"Just tell me this isn't what you want, and I'll stop," he whispered, his tone soft but urgent. "Baby, can I touch you? Is this okay?"

His pleading eyes never left yours, and the vulnerability in them sent your heart racing.

The goosebumps on your skin were undeniable, and any lingering sense of shame had long since dissolved.

Your mind felt like a chaotic blur, thoughts sprinting faster than you could keep up. One moment, the two of you had been laughing over dinner, and now you were practically under him, struggling to remember how to breathe.

"Yes," you confessed. your voice is small, shaky but sure. "Please... continue," you begged, your words barely above a whisper.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his lips just before he leaned in, capturing your mouth with his.

The kiss started slow, deep but measured, like he was savoring every second, every taste, as if this might be his last chance. His hands explored your body with an intensity that made your skin burn, like his touch was the only thing grounding him to this moment.

Your body felt alive, every nerve ending ignited as desire pulsed through you. You didn't care that this was the same Haechan you had sworn weeks ago was just a friend.

Right now, all you cared about was the way he made you feel-the way you wanted him, desperately and without hesitation.

As the kiss grew heavier, your confidence swelled. You pushed him back slightly, straddling his lap, your hands finding the hem of your shirt. In one quick motion, you tugged it off, tossing it aside before glancing down at him breathless.

His dark, hungry gaze roamed over your newly exposed skin, his lips parting as his chest rose and fell heavily. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. "You have no idea how many times I've dreamt of this."

His eyes lingered on every curve, taking you in like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Heat rushed to your face, a flush rising from a combination of the wine and the shy vulnerability creeping back in. Instinctively, you shifted to hide yourself, but his hands shot up, gripping your wrists gently but firmly.

"No, no, baby," he said, shaking his head. His voice softened, his gaze steady and filled with adoration. "Don't hide from me. Don't ever be shy about a body this beautiful."

Before you could protest, his lips descended on your skin, planting slow, deliberate kisses along the curve of your shoulder, down your collarbone, and across the sensitive expanse of your chest.

The contact was electrifying. Every kiss, every graze of his lips sent a spark of pleasure shooting through your veins. His tongue flicked against your skin, and as he tugged your bra off with a practiced ease, tossing it somewhere out of sight, the rest of your inhibitions melted away.

"God," he groaned against your skin, his voice muffled but filled with need.

His arms wrapped around you, lifting you with ease. The sudden movement made you gasp, your legs instinctively tightening around him.

Haechan carried you to his room, his lips never straying far from yours as he kicked the door open. He placed you down on the bed with care, hovering over you as his hands worked swiftly to rid you of the rest of your clothes.

His gaze darkened as he drank in the sight of you, bare and vulnerable beneath him.

"You're perfect," he said, almost to himself, as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours again with an urgency that left you breathless.

His hands roamed your body, his touch igniting every inch of your skin, and as his own clothes joined the pile on the floor, all you could think was how badly you needed him.

“You’re always trying to deny me, but look at this,” he proceeds to hold your legs apart, his fingers slowly grazing against your core, covering them in your wetness as you let out a groan.

He hovers over you once more—shoving his fingers in your mouth. “So fucking wet for me and I haven’t even fucked you yet. Go ahead baby, taste yourself for me.”

You ran your tongue along his soaked fingers, savoring every trace of yourself before sucking on them greedily. When your taste was no longer there, all you could think about was wanting to taste him instead.

“Fuck,” he curses out, his eyes watching as you take his fingers between your lips. His cock starts twitching when your tongue starts lapping against them.

“Please, Hyuck..” you pleaded, your voice trembling with need.

“Speak up,” he grabs you by your thighs and yanks you closer to his mouth. “Tell me what you want and how you want it.”

“I... I want to feel your mouth please. Please, Hyuck, I want you to fuck me,” you look down and find his eyes locked on you, looking nearly possessed.

You felt his breath against your cunt as he let out a low laugh laced with something dark. Before you could say anything— he laps his tongue slowly against your entrance, making sure to savor every part of you.

“Holy fuck…” you gasped, the pressure and intensity building as his pace quickened. Who would’ve guessed your best friend had such a way with his mouth?

The lewd sounds of your cunt get louder as he shoves two fingers inside of you, and he begins sucking on your clit. He gave you no time to catch your breath, keeping his relentless pace until he finally found your sweet spot, making you squirm.

“Tastes so fucking good—I should’ve done this the first time I laid eyes on you. Look at you, my pretty girl is going crazy while I fuck you with just my fingers,” he fastens his pace against your spot and starts attacking your swollen clit with his tongue again.

You swore on your life you saw stars—and you hadn’t even finished yet. Your body was teetering on the edge, the feeling overwhelming, when suddenly he stopped.

Your head snapped towards his bedside table, the moment interrupted by the buzz of your phone vibrating against the wood. The flashing light of the screen read: Incoming Call: Jeno (Brother).

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your face, but before you could even process the situation, Haechan was already looking at you, his expression unreadable.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Hyuck, I’m so close. Just ignore it.”

But instead of obliging, he pulled his fingers out of you with maddening precision, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness. His other hand reached for your phone, and before you could protest, he handed it to you.

“Pick it up,” he said firmly, his tone low and serious, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“What—” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but he cut you off.

Without warning, he answered the call for you, setting it on speaker.

“Where are you? You’ve been out all night, and you’re not answering my texts. Are you okay?” Jeno’s familiar voice rang out, concern laced with irritation.

Your breath hitched, shame and annoyance flashing across your face as you met Haechan’s gaze. His lips curved into the faintest smirk, his hand now resting possessively on your thigh, fingers tracing patterns.

As you open your mouth to answer, Haechan holds his cock against your folds, slowly gliding it against the mess he caused, leaving you breathless once again.

“I-I’m okay. I’m with Karina.” You bite your lip trying to suppress a moan as you watch Haechan start to insert himself into you slowly.

“Okay, that’s fine. Are you going to sleep over at her place tonight or do you need me to come and get you?” He asked, completely unaware of the situation.

You can’t do this. The feeling of his length stretching you— filling you up slowly was too much for you to handle. You started to feel your eyes rolling back.

“Hello?? I asked you a question,” Jeno’s voice snapped through the speaker.

Your eyes flew open, and you were met with Haechan’s piercing gaze. His expression was dangerously calm, but the slow, deliberate way he began to withdraw from you sent a clear message, answer him.

“No!” you yelled abruptly, your voice shaky and desperate. “No, don’t pick me up! I—I’m sleeping over at Karina’s. I’ll text you in the morning, bye!”

“Um, okay, but—”

You hung up on him before he could finish, tossing the phone onto the table and turning to Haechan with a pout.

He snickers at you, shoving his length deeper into you. “Good girl. Since you did so well for me, I’ll let you cum around my cock. Huh baby, is that what you want?” He teases as his hips start moving faster.

“Yes, fuck” you moan. “Please Donghyuck, don’t stop—don’t stop!” You move your hips, bringing yourself closer to him. You take in every inch of feeling as his tip continues hitting the same spot from earlier—and his balls slapping against your lips with each thrust.

“You just couldn’t wait for this, hm? Years of teasing me and you could’ve had this all along, shit—“ he seethes as he feels your walls clench around him.

“This sweet pussy is all mine, right baby?” Haechan grabs your chin and holds your face, locking eye contact.

His eyes burned with an intensity you’d never seen before, locking onto you with an unwavering focus that made your breath catch. Your mouth was dry, parted slightly, but no sound escaped—and he noticed. The way his gaze flicked to your lips, sharp and deliberate, sent a shiver down your spine.

He spits into your mouth and pounds harder, “answer me now.”

“It’s all yours, Donghyuck!” You scream, then swallow, gaining your voice back and your walls squeezing against him again as you're about to reach your high.

He smirks and to finish you off he attaches his lips to your hardened nipples, playing with them as he focuses on your walls clenching around him.

“Donghyuck!” You scream one last time as you cum around him, your body giving in and your nails practically clawing down his back as you cling onto him for your sanity.

He lets out a high pitched moan, music to your ears as he caught up to his release shortly after, dumping his load onto your stomach. He slumps himself right beside you as you both catch your breath.

What. Just. Happened.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. A whirlwind of thoughts raced through your mind as you kept asking yourself the same questions. You wanted to wish for regret, to muster the energy to question him—or maybe even sneak away. But your body was too drained, and a bigger part of you didn’t want to leave.

“Are you okay?” Haechan’s voice broke the silence, soft yet laced with concern as the two of you began to recover.

“Yeah, I’m good. Um… are you okay?” you asked awkwardly, your voice quieter than you intended.

You heard the smallest chuckle escape his lips, warm and teasing in a way that made your cheeks flush. “A thousand times more than just okay,” he murmured, his words sending a strange mix of comfort and flustered warmth through you.

He sat up, reaching over to the side table to grab a tissue. Gently, he cleaned you up, his touch careful and deliberate, as if he were handling something precious.

“What… what was that?” you asked carefully, your voice soft and unsure, afraid to ruin the moment.

“Call it your congratulations present,” he replied, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “We can talk more about it in the morning, yeah? For now, let me take care of you and get you to sleep before Jeno starts figuring out you’re not actually at Karina’s.”

You let out a small shriek, covering your face with your hands. “What did you make me do?!”

He laughed, pulling you into his arms as he tugged the quilt over the both of you. “Relax,” he said, his voice warm and amused. “You played it off really well.”

Groaning into his chest, you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, but it was quickly replaced by something deeper—a warmth, a sense of safety you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Fine,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against him. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

His arms tightened around you, and he kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering just enough to make your heart flutter. As his steady breaths surrounded you, you found yourself growing drowsy, your body relaxing in the comfort of his embrace.

And just for tonight, you allowed yourself to believe that this wasn’t just pretend.

‧˚⭒ taglist: @jaeminnanaaa17 @scoobysnackszoo @1800-jigglemywiggle @karmasbestie @cathamada @yoursyuno @oneeew @serenedreamscape @moryymor @yesohhsehun @dnihyuck

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whitexwolfxx310 · 7 months ago

Text

|| What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie? || Part 2.

Pairing: Dom!Bucky x Sub!female reader

Summary: After accidentally revealing that you have a masked man kink, Bucky starts taking it to the next level. The reveal!

Warnings: Smut- MDNI please!, unprotected sexual intercourse (p in v), don't forget no glove no love, edging, asphyxiation, fingering, mild dirty talk, language, praise kink, masked man kink, stalking, harassment, implied harm, breaking in.

Word Count: 5.4

A/Ns: Hi babes! Sorry this took an extra day than intended. Tumblr is being super finicky tonight, I’ve edited and re-edited this so many times. If there’s mistakes just ignore. I hope you like the conclusion!

In case you missed it, Part 1

You didn’t sleep much the next couple of nights, and decided to take some time off of work. Bucky finally reached out, and you updated him as to what was going on. He immediately offered to come home, which you refused and started to downplay the situation.

Hailee has been great with letting you borrow some clothes and little things, since you only grabbed a small bag in a rush before heading to her place to stay a few days ago. You’ve been dreading going back to the apartment, scared to find someone in there waiting for you. But it’s at the point where you need to grab some of your stuff.

Walking into the apartment, it was eerily quiet and uncomfortable. But nothing looked out of place, and was exactly how you left it. Deciding not to spend any longer there than you had to, you promptly tossed a large duffle bag onto your bed and started stuffing it with clothes and any other necessities.

Zipping the duffle closed, you felt a light gust of cool air. Scanning your bedroom window assuming it was the source, you realize it’s open. You never open this window. In fact, it’s always locked. All of the hair on the top layer of your skin stands up to the extent it almost feels like tiny pinpricks. Flight mode is instantly activated; before you can even think, you grab the bag and run, practically tripping over your own feet out of the room.

Grappling with the door knob, the pure panic starts to set in. Just as you’re twisting the knob open, you hear a distant bang coming from another room in the apartment. You freeze at the realization:

I’m not alone.

You know when you’re watching a scary movie and yell at the tv, wondering why the one of the characters was so fucking stupid to do something?

Well, you did exactly that. What possessed you in that moment, you haven’t the faintest idea. But, with your heartbeat pounding in your ears so loudly that you thought your eardrums might rupture, you started to turn around to look.

What primitively catches your attention isn’t what you expected, but quickly makes your chest tighten. The fruit bowl on the kitchen counter that is normally overflowing with lucious, red delicious apples, now just has all apple cores.

The flashback of one being on left on the countertop after Bucky had left blazes in your mind. It suddenly makes sense. Bucky would never leave a mess and it wasn't long after that you saw someone outside your window.

Attempting to swallow the growing dryness in your throat, you continue to turn around. And that's when you see him for the first time. About fifteen feet away, stood an obviously immensely tall man. He wore thick, black shiny leather boots that gleamed lightly in the natural daylight within the apartment. Fitted black jeans with a loose, black hooded sweatshirt that failed to hide how muscular and broad his chest and shoulders were with the hood pulled up.

But two things stuck out the most about his appearance. First, was the tight, black leather gloves he wore on his hands that were currently clenched into rigid fists. The second, was the fact that you couldn't make out his face. All you could see was an elongated paleness, caverned by the blackness of the hood, and it seemed... sinister. He didn't move or make a sound. It was as if you would blink and he would be gone, like a cloud of smoke.

But if anyone was going to disappear, it was going to be you. So taking a chance, you ran. And you didn't stop running. Even with the faint vibration in your pocket alerting you to the new text notification on your phone, you kept going.

It wasn't until you got back to Hailee's place and frantically, out of breath explained to her, that you even remembered about the text message.

"Here," You toss the phone in pure detestation onto her bed, "I don't even want to fucking know what it says." You lean against the opposite wall of her bedroom, crossing your arms across your chest in an attempt to control the body shakes as you come down from the adrenaline.

Hailee watches you for a brief moment, still not having said much aside from asking if you were okay. Her expression was soft and sympathetic and yet had an dissenting undertone. You couldn't blame her, this all sounded absolutely insane.

Letting out a small, exasperated breath, Hailee sits on her knees from her previous crossed legged position and grabs your cell. As the screen comes to life, her teeth clench down reading whatever is on the screen.

“What?” The concern is evident in your voice as you pry away from the wall, though still holding onto yourself.

Hailee inhales deeply through her nostrils, faking a tightlipped smile, “it’s nothing,” her tone is flat. She’s lying. Clicking the sleep button on the side of the phone to make the screen go black, she makes her way off the bed, “hey, how about we head down to the cellphone store and get you a new phone and number?” She asks, trying to sound like her usual carefree self as she grabbed her crossbody bag.

“Hailee,” you uncross your arms and step in front of her, forcing her to make eye contact, “what is it?”

Searching your eyes, you can see that she is torn. She wants so badly to do the right thing, but isn’t sure what exactly that is in this situation. On one hand, she could just keep it to herself. Let the unknown and curiosity eat you alive from the inside out like it inevitably will. But only because she wants to protect you, shield you from anything that brings you the opposite of joy. Or, she can show you what you’re actually dealing with, and the two of you can come up with a plan and handle it together. Hailee decides on the latter.

Hesitating, her hand shakes slightly as she holds out the phone to you. It appears that now both of you will take this predicament more critically now. Grabbing the phone a tad more aggressively then you meant to, you unlock it and open the messages. But it's not often Hailee gets rendered quiet. Scrolling through the back to back texts, you understand why.

Taking your best friends advice, you immediately went to the cell phone store. She tagged along as you got a completely new phone and number, not transferring anything over, not wanting to take the risk. You didn't download any social media, deciding to take a much needed mental break for a bit. The only thing you did do, was take a few phone numbers that you needed out of your old phone, and even then you wrote them down on a piece of paper to manually add them into your contacts later.

Walking out of the store, you felt as if a weight had been lifted. Hailee locked arms with you, leading you around the corner to the nearest cafe to get iced coffee. It was her answer for everything. Bad day? Iced coffee. Need a pick me up? Iced coffee. Need to clear your head and just ramble about random shit for a bit? Iced coffee. Your best friend has an apparent stalker and we're hoping that changing phone numbers is the end all solution?! Obviously, iced coffee.

Sitting at a small table outside the cafe, enjoying the slight crispness in the fall air, you let out a huge, relieving sigh that makes your shoulders sink. You take the opportunity to add Bucky to your contacts and text him your new number. Although, you decide not to go into detail about your most recent encounter while he's still away on a mission.

Putting the phone down on the table and not have it incessantly go off with calls and texts, let's you feel as though you can finally breathe. "Thank you for coming with me, Hales, I really appreciate you."

Hailee is sucking the remnants of her drink through the straw as she looks up at you. She gives you a small, genuine side smile, "you're welcome," before smirking, "so I'm supposed to have a date tonight, with that guy Noah I've been seeing..." she leaves it open ended. "But, I should totally cancel after everythi-"

"No, please. Go out and have fun. You've been dealing with my shit enough," trying to make your words sound affirming, even with the lingering dread that you still felt.

That's one thing about Hailee. You never quite really have to twist her arm to do anything.

After showering and changing into your comfy jeans and oversized cropped sweater, it was hard not to feel the slightest tinge of jealousy watching Hailee do her finishing touches for date night in the mirror. Jealousy in the sense of missing Bucky and going out and having a carefree night, not in comparing yourself physically.

She swipes yet another layer of clear lip gloss on before fluffing her beach wave blonde hair. Turning to face you, her thick heels clack on the wooden floor as she starts adjusting her boobs in her sleek, dusty rose colored dress.

"What do you think?" Her hands glide down over her curves, "Dress is okay?"

"That dress is fire," and it is, she looks amazing. By the smile she's wearing, she's feeling it too, "too bad it's going to end up on Noah's floor ten minutes into your date." Hailee dramatically gasps, as if that's not true. It totally is.

You're both laughing until she abruptly stops, "I have to go!" She gives you a quick hug and starts scurrying towards the door, a bit awkwardly in the heels, "Bye! Love you! Lock the door!" As she goes to close the door behind her she yells back in, "don't read too much smut on your kindle while I'm gone!" and the door slams.

Shaking your head with a small laugh, you lock the door. Hailee just gave you the perfect idea of how to spend your night.

About an hour had gone by, you comfortably laid in Hailee's spare bed, a few chapters deep into your latest book. It was quiet, so when your phone vibrated on the bed next to you- you jumped slightly. Assuming it was Bucky finally having the chance to text you back, you pick it up fairly quickly. But the message you received isn't what you expected at all.

Before even unlocking the phone, you had a text alert from Unknown. There was nothing written, but all the way to the right of the alert, you could see a picture was included.

Promptly, you sat up in the bed and stared at the notification. That familiar wave of unease dispersed throughout your body as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over your head.

This phone number is only a few hours old, how the fuck did he get it already?

The notification banner and you were in a staredown. You had to know what the message was, but you were absolutely terrified at the same time. Your thumbs hover, occasionally twitching over the screen, until you pull the trigger and swipe up.

Us. Hailee...

Driving to your apartment, you broke nearly every single traffic law that there is. The entire time you tried calling Hailee’s phone back to back, just repeating the same mantra; please pick up. Please, please pick up. She never did.

“Hailee!!” You run through your apartment door, not having to mess with it for long as it was already unlocked. You had a feeling it would be. “Answer me!” You yell, breathlessly. The apartment is eerily dark and quiet.

Coming to a halt in the main living space, you whipped your head around looking for clues and try to listen for any signs of distress. But it was so difficult to hear anything over your own breathing and pulse drumming in your ears.

You knew where you had to go, the last picture of your friends dress laid out on your bedspread was the roadmap. The bedroom door was just barely closed over, a creepy orange glow lining it and trying to escape from underneath. Each step closer that you took, felt as if a large spider made entirely of ice was crawling down your spine.

Pushing the door open slightly with just a fingernail, you peered into the room. You knew this is exactly where this person wanted you. For what? There’s only one way to find out.

There didn’t seem to be anyone in the room, so you took a few small steps in. The glow was more prominent now, giving the room an uncanny romantic ambiance with numerous amount of white candles lit all along the dressers, night tables, and bookshelves.

Taking a broad step forward, your attention is now focused on the bed. Hailee's dress is no longer laid out like it had been in the picture. Instead, there are flower petals sprinkled across your comforter. The intriguing curiosity drew you even more into the room without you even realizing. Picking up one of the petals, you rub it between your fingers, feeling it's supple and delicate smoothness as you examine it more closely. In that moment you recognize it- the familiarity of it's dark appeal. They're black dahlia petals.

Some of the petals congregated in one particular area on the bed, revealing an elegant, black gift box about the size of a large book. Your lips part slightly as you pick up the box, captivated by it's alluring magnetism. Taking off the lid, your brows furrow slightly in confusion. It's a chain. A long, thick slip chain that looks like a necklace but almost long enough to be a leash.

As your finger smoothes over the cold indentations of the chain, you hear a creak come from the floor behind you. In a startled jump, you drop the box- a slight ringing sound deafens the scene even more from the chain hitting the floor. But that's not your concern. Because as you turn around, you see him.

Within arms reach, you are confronted with the person that's been behind all of this. He's even taller up close, broader. Dressed in all black attire, this time swapping the black hoodie for a black t-shirt and black leather jacket. And without the hood, you're able to see the elongated white face from earlier.

It's a Ghostface mask.

He stands as still as a statue, watching you intently, waiting. Your eyes persist in looking him over as your chest rises and falls deeply. When your gaze meets his face once again, his head creepily tilts ever so slightly to one side.

"What's the matter?" He speaks, his voice deep and low, "you look like you've seen a ghost," the tone almost mocking.

Squinting your eyes, you look at him again. And this time you really look at him. His body frame, the clothes, the familiarity of his voice. Your eyes widen at the realization.

"Bucky?" you gape, completely stupefied. Taking the first fearless step in what feels like months, you wrap your arms around him. He returns the sentiment and you feel safe, for the first time in what feels like forever. It suddenly dawns on you that he's not actually on a mission. And probably never was.

"What- What is this?" You ask, looking up at him, slightly pushing the mask up to reveal his stubbled chin and promiscuous grin.

"There’s just something so dark and exhilarating about an unknown man behind a mask that stalks and is obsessed with you. The anonymity of it..." He repeats back the words you said to him a few months ago watching the Scream movie.

The memory of you how you told him about this kink of yours curls around your mind. That this entire time, you were never in any kind of serious danger, he just brought it to life. Weeks and months of preparation went into this, here, tonight. You should have known all along that Bucky would never have been so nonchalant about you in any type of significant situation. You're safe. You always were and always will be.

The tiny icy footprints that had trailed up your spine were long gone, now replaced with a burning and tantalizing desire. You've missed him, thinking he was away while you were dealing with this on your own. But now he's here, fulfilling your deepest desires.

Looking up, Bucky's Pacific blue eyes are already gazing down into yours, a built up and unsatisfied hunger prominent. Moving up onto your tiptoes and grabbing him behind the neck, you bring down his head and capture his lips.

Your mouth parted his, gliding and massaging his tongue with your own. A low growl reverberated from within his throat with approval, and promise to make everything up to you tenfold. Bucky's intoxicating cypress scent fills your nostrils as your inhaled deeply, pressing your breasts up into his chest. Taking off the leather gloves and shrugging his jacket onto the floor, his hands started to wildly wander around your body, giving light squeezes on your hips before settling and interlacing gingerly in your hair.

That didn't last long, though. There was a sudden and hard tug from where Bucky held your hair, enough to pull the two of you apart. The aggressiveness of the gesture was unexpected, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't fucking love it. His eyes linger on your already swollen lips, now wearing a pursed, provocative grin. His hand releases the tight grip he had on your loose curls, watching the relief from the sting flash across your eyes. Bucky has always been tender, gentle and using your body as a place of worship-but tonight is different.

Grabbing the hem of your sweater, he maneuvers it up and off to join his growing pile of discarded clothes. Dropping to his knees with a loud thud, he undoes the button and zipper of your jeans, pulling them down and weaving his tongue along the freshly exposed skin. Hissing through your teeth, your hips instinctively press forward. He lets out a dark laugh, before grabbing the chain you dropped before. Standing back up, he takes your hand, "Come," he says, leading you towards the cornered edge of the mattress.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, his muscular body causes it to sink slightly. His free hand, still holding the chain, grips his own thigh before giving it a light pat, "Sit," he commanded, again keeping that firm edge in his voice that you weren't used to. You enthusiastically follow his orders, sitting delicately facing outward in just your matching ivory lace bra and panties. It's hard not to notice how you just fit. And how much you secretly love his significantly large frame pressed against your much more petite body in comparison to his.

The soft tip of his nose runs along the outside of your neck, his large hands coasting along your shoulders, down your arms, sides, before settling on your thighs. The calluses on his hands leaving a sensational trail of tingles and heat to disperse under your skin.

"Look," his head nods forward once to get your attention, and now you see the reason why he sat you here. In the corner of the bedroom, just a few feet away, is a full length standing mirror angled perfectly to reflect everything.

You see yourself, already flushed with arousal and breathing heavily as you make eye contact with Bucky in the mirror. His devious smile pins you in place as you watch his hands pry open your legs, entrancingly over his. They willingly spread open wide for him, your restless hips now squirming, aching for more. His fingertips trace small circles on your inner thigh.

"I want you to see your face as you fall apart, " he taunted, his voice sultry in your ear, still holding your gaze in the mirror. His middle finger skims across your already embarrassingly dampened panties, causing your back to press against his rigid chest.

There was a vague rattling sound, followed by Bucky placing the large opening of the looped chain over your head and around your neck, “Bucky, what are you doing-” you watch curiously in the mirror. Part of the chain dangles between your breasts, which he wraps around his hand once and slowly starts to pull, causing the loop around your neck to compress.

It’s a choker.

Your eyes go wide, nervousness rippling through you as you grasp his intentions, “Bucky, I don’t know-”

“Do you really think you have a choice?” he barked, pulling the Ghostface mask down back onto his face. Talking to you through the mirror, “I won’t hurt you. Trust me,” he whispers, breaking character for a moment to assure you’re safe.

You nod in response, your reflection visibly eases in the mirror as the necklace slackens around your throat. He lets the chain lax too, for now.

Large hands are back to kneading your thighs, a lone finger brushing between your legs when gravitating along the inside. It’s not long until the sensation has you starting to wriggle once again.

Cupping your sex, his hand gently moves up and down, keeping a firm, yet delicate and delicious pressure. Your greedy hips tilt forward, wanting more from his right hand, while the coolness of his left continues to lazily stroke over your skin. But when that icy touch quickly grabs and tears your underwear off in one jolt, you gasp at the tiny bite the ripping cloth left behind.

Now you’re left wide and exposed- to yourself, to Bucky, to the reflections of yourselves staring intensely, watching every movement. The warmth of his hand is back, leisurely gliding two fingers between your already achingly wet pussy. Swallowing hard, your breath hitches as you can not only feel, but see, yourself start to lose composure.

Bucky pulls the two fingers away, holding them up just to your mouth, "wet them for me," he instructs, his voice silk like satin. Taking the two fingers into your mouth, your tongue swirled rapidly around the digits, savoring the salty-sweetness of your arousal. Slowly pulling them back out, you see them shine with your saliva.

Something comes over you in that moment, call it gluttonous, but you pool some extra moisture into your mouth and spit onto the fingers. Just for good measure.

There's a murmured hum of approval in your ear as he spreads your folds, teasing your increasingly sensitive clit between his two fingers. And getting Bucky's praise will only enhance the entire night. Your legs quiver at the deliberate sluggish pace, letting out shaky breaths as the overwhelming throbbing demands more attention.

Finally, the pads of those fingers start to rub your bundle of nerves in unhurried circles. Gripping onto his thigh to steady yourself, your nails clutching his jeans, a whine escapes as your hips try to buck against his hand.

That dark laugh is in your ear again, "good girls don't come until I tell them too," Bucky breathes, overly indulging in how you respond to his touch. It feels like torture, in the best possible way. The combination of his words and caress... you have never felt this good. This wanted.

Your head falls back slightly against his shoulder in small disappointment, whimpering, knowing that he's going to make you beg. And you're getting desperate enough to do so.

The leisurely pace of his fingers picks up, causing your back to arch away from his chest as you start panting. Each swipe building pleasure, layer on top of agonizing layer. Finding yourself in the mirror again, you unapologetically watch as your body vigorously writhes against his hand, your moans spilling from your mouth more and more.

"How badly do you want to come, princess?" The Ghost breathed, his chest rising and falling heavily now, trying to fight off his own desire, evident from the hard protrusion you keep rolling your hips against.

"S-so bad... Please! Please," you pleaded, not caring how desperate it sounds. Adding some additional pressure, your hips stutter. Your breathing practically stops as your moans transform into one long, drawn out strangled whine as you come apart, "O-ooh...oh my god. Oh god!"

Not even fully coming down from the repeated waves, you hear, "God's not here," growled into your ear. In one sudden movement, Bucky stands up with you in his arms before tossing you onto the bed, "just me.” the low rumble emits from his chest. Ripping off the mask, he kneels on the bed and uses his left arm to support his weight. Using those same damned two fingers, he plunges them into your drenched pussy, siphoning a sound from your throat that’s unrecognizable.

“Again,” Bucky breathes, his eyes glazed over with a new kind of wickedness as they lock into yours, “Come for me again. I fucking love all the sounds you make,” With his palm face up, his fingers start pumping you from the inside, running over your g-spot in a come here motion.

Since there was no remission from your last orgasm, the tightness in your belly never fully went away. Watching Bucky, seeing him in the tight black t-shirt while his bicep flexes from working you, his slightly furrowed brow and his lips slightly parted in determination, you could feel it building up once again.

Feeling your walls contract around him, he grinned. He changes his hand motions to going in a frantic up and down movement, and if you know, you know. Your rasped whimpers became silent as you forgot how to breathe and your vision blurred. The build up came on so fast and so strong, the only sound in the room was your ever increasing wetness.

Your mouth dropped open into a silent O, not able to think not a single coherent thought, "Thaaat's it..." Bucky coaxed, "I want you to gush all over my fucking hand," and with his words, your body quivers as you completely shatter with a loud cry. "Goood girl. God, what a good fucking girl," he soothes. You winced slightly as he pulled out his fingers, collapsing back more into the bed as you try to rein in remembering how to breathe. Bucky sits back on his knees, and almost entirely up to his elbow is glistening with how hard you just came.

With a flat tongue, he presses it to his palm, and licks all the way up to the tip of his middle finger, "Perfect," Bucky hums in satisfaction to himself. Your throat goes dry at the sight, being the cherry on top of all the mouth breathing you've been doing. Am I fucking dreaming?

Pushing his jeans down to his knees, his thick, flushed cock rebounds out of his boxers. Bucky grabs you by the hips, pulling you down the bed before flipping you over onto all fours. Each of his hands grabs a fistfull of your ass, before slapping one side. You moan at the bite of the smack, feeling delusional from needing him inside you so badly. He rubs the reddened cheek before dropping a teeth grazed kiss on the sensitive skin.

There's a coolness between your legs, and you realize that it's your juices sliding down your thighs. Not needing any preparation, you feel the tip of Bucky's fat cock lining up to slide into your tight little slit. He rubs the head up and down, lubricating just enough to push himself in. As he started to sink into you, it took every bit of will you had not to collapse as you felt his slight struggle to get in.

"Fuck, you're tight," he sighs. But truth be told, he's just that big. As if he had a direct roadmap, he slides in effortlessly right to the hilt, poking the sweetest spot of all making you choke out a sob, "You can take it, can't you angel?" He breathes huskily, amusement draped around the words as he dragged his cock back maliciously slow, letting you feel the ridge of each vein, every delectable centimeter of his length.

You feel your eyes roll closed, enjoying the all consuming sensation. With one quick thrust all at once, Bucky simultaneously yanks on the chain of the forgotten choker forcing your eyes open with a loud cry to find him glaring at you in the mirror, "Look at me when I'm fucking you," he reprimanded, in a subdued yet stern voice.

He started to move in a merciless rhythm, keeping the chain taut in one of the hands that clenched your hips. Each thrust delivered not only a delectable deep nudge against your cervix, but a small slap of his balls to your achingly sensitive clit. The combination of internal and external stimulation has you singing your own personal explicit cry, almost on the verge of tears with the intensity.

It's almost cruel the way that he fucks you, like he's dismantling you piece by piece, mentally, physically, emotionally. Never have you been treated like such a prize possession and a cheap whore at the same time. Your walls flutter around his cock, swallowing him needing moremoremore. You're body's accepted that this pussy is Bucky's. It's meant for him. It was made for him.

In the reflection you can see Bucky wet his lips, his eyes darting between yours and your ass bouncing off of his snapping hips. He continues to murmur soft, filthy praises as he fucks another orgasm from you. The choker tensed as you came, making the edges of your vision blurry- your walls clenching so tightly, causing each stroke to become more intense than the next. After you completely shattered, the chain went slack once again.

Manhandling you one last time, Bucky lays back flat on the bed and positions you to straddle him. You shake your head in an almost delirious state, "I-I can't. Buck, I-" you whisper, thoroughly cock drunk, "I can't," you pleaded.

"Yes you can, angel," his hands glide over your sweat coated thighs, a lecherous expression on his face. You nod ever so slightly, because even as spent and exhausted as you feel, you want to see him come apart. You want to look down into his eyes as joins you in the fucked out bliss.

You grab the base of his cock, using it to align yourself before sliding back down on top of him. Bucky's eyes widen, watching intensely as your bodies joined one another. All the air releases out of his lungs at the sight of your greedy pussy sucking him all the way in- deeper, your thighs already trembling. His hands clench your hips as your they start to grind back and forth.

His ab muscles flex under your nail piercing grasp- that pressure once again starting to build. He's just so deep, you're still just so wet from coming 3 times in a row, and now his wide tip is nestled so perfectly against your cervix that each motion of your body feels like you're going to spontaneously combust and die. But there's no way that heaven could be better than this. Those painfully beautiful sapphire blue eyes filled with an rapacious hunger that only you can fulfill.

You're mouth opens in attempt to say his name like a prayer, or something as equally dirty, but all that comes out is a sputter of shuddered gasps. Bucky's unapologetically loud moans grow more frequent, turning into their own long, drawn out beautiful melody, "fuck," he whispers, "that's so good."

Leaning down, chest to chest, you capture his lips in yours- swallowing those gorgeous sounds. Bucky takes this opportunity to thrust his hips up, massaging your inner walls as you push back against him. The loud smacking of flesh borderline drown out the sounds of both your orgasms, but you could feel the vibration from deep within Bucky's throat through the kiss. Rope after rope, you could feel his warmth emptying inside of you.

The strokes became laguid as he maintained the kiss- Bucky's hands cupping your face gently, which was such a dichotomy compared to the way he fucked you tonight. You finally pull your lips apart, collapsing fully on top of his body. Laying in silence, all you can hear is each other's ragged breathing and the drumming of his heart in your ear against his chest.

"I am... never getting rid of that fucking mask," Bucky chuckles lightly.

"Just so you know," you prop your chin up on your palm, "there's 5 other movies in the franchise."

If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist.

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr

@marianastudiesart @chaosbarelycontained @wonderbreadbucky @amethystviolin @fluffysucker @buckybraneslover111 @crazyf0robx @thorns-fixations @brairslair @dumdumlolly @miss0giarra @nerdytif @am-3-thyst @blondierog @mrsstuckyboo

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jobean12-blog · 4 months ago

Text

Mission Accomplished

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 4,157

Summary: You've had a crush on Bucky from the moment you met and now that Sam has the two of you going on a mission together you're not sure how to handle it. Sure you've had casual conversastions before and hung out as a group but all this one on one time... what could possibly go wrong? Or maybe right?

Author's Note: I love a sweet and slightly shy, soft Bucky! The details of the mission are not really important here so I just have them flying from some lovely hidden away location to NYC for some sneakin' around to get info. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: shy and sweet Bucky, awkwardness from both characters haha, but lots of fun, flirting, tension, fluff, implied smut

You’re alone in the elevator, having just left your meeting with Sam, when Bucky steps inside just as the doors are closing.

Your eyes meet and your breath catches in your throat, the weighted silence becoming awkward.

You open your mouth to say something but then stop, blinking away the words before leaning heavily against the wall.

The damn elevator is moving so slowly.

Finally, the doors open and Bucky gestures for you to go first. Instead, you nearly shout at him, “looks like we’re going on a mission together.”

“Yeah,” he says with a small smile.

“I’m excited, I’ve never been to the city before.”

He rubs the back of his neck and shuffles his feet. “It’s definitely somethin’.”

“Should I meet you at the Quinjet tomorrow morning? Or do we need to talk about anything before then?”

“I think that’s fine,” he answers, still holding the doors of the elevator open.

It starts to ding, and you register the sound with a nervous giggle and step out.

“It’s fine if we just meet at the Quinjet or before?” You ask for clarification.

“Um,” he starts. “It should be…”

“I don’t mind…” you begin at the same time.

“Sorry,” you whisper, “I interrupted. Go ahead.”

“We can just meet at the Quinjet,” he says as he shoves his hands into his jean pockets and starts to walk down the hallway.

“That sounds good,” you tell him. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, see you in the mornin’.”

He smiles, his gaze lingering before he turns around the next corner.

“Great,” you mutter to yourself. “Now he really thinks you’re a bumbling idiot.”

Your feet shuffle along the ramp onto the Quinjet and you squint against the early morning sun that’s just starting to rise above the top of the mountains in the distance.

Fumbling with your bag you head toward the seats, finding Bucky already inside and waiting. He stands and reaches for your bag.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hi,” you answer back, staring.

He secures your bag and sits back down. You glance around at all the empty seats and then sit right down next to him.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” you ask. “I’m a nervous flyer.”

With a smile he says, “no doll. That’s fine.”

You watch him wipe the palms of his hands on his pants.

The door to the Quinjet closes and you shift in your seat, toying with the seatbelt and growing more frustrated with every passing second.

The engines ignite and you make a squeaking sound, finally deciding to just try and tie the seatbelt rope in a knot.

Bucky places his hand over yours. “Let me help?”

You nod and try to slow your breathing as his hands work smoothly to undo your mess and clip the belt then tighten it.

“There. Comfortable?”

“Yeah, perfect. Thanks.”

You feel the jet start to move, and you clasp your hands together in your lap. You can feel his eyes on you but for fear of further embarrassment you keep your face forward and try not to sweat too much.

“What did you bring for lunch?” he asks.

“What?”

“Lunch. What did you bring for the ride?”

“Were we supposed to bring lunch?” you ask wide eyed.

He laughs. “It’s not a long ride but I’m always hungry so I brought peanut butter and jelly and a bagel. Plenty to share.”

“That’s good,” you say with a smile. “And thanks. It’s a good thing one of us is prepared.”

“When it comes to food yeah, otherwise, I’m leaving that up to you.”

You smile. “Don’t worry. As far as the mission goes I know exactly what we need to do.”

“Good. And I’ll show you all the best places to eat.”

With a laugh you let out an exhale and realize you’re already up in the air and cruising. You give him a thankful look and smile.

He winks and then settles back in his seat.

Eventually, after some light conversation, you drift off to sleep, slowly slanting toward Bucky until your head is resting on his shoulder.

His movements are soft and easy as he drops lower, so your neck isn’t so stretched out and he leans back to close his eyes.

You wake to the jerking of the jet and the feeling of weightlessness in your stomach as you start to make your descent. You’re awkwardly twisted in your seat but somehow so comfortable. The body next to you is warm and firm and smells so good.

With a jolt you straighten and disentangle yourself from around Bucky’s metal arm. You then notice your leg is hitched over his thigh.

Trying not to wake him you remove the rest of your limbs from his body and rub a hand over your face. He’s still quietly breathing, eyes closed and long lashes fluttering when you start to study every feature of his face up close.

His hair is mussed at the back, and the front, normally pulled upward, now falls over his forehead, shiny and soft. His sharp jaw is covered in a dark shadow, highlighted every now and then by patches of gray that travel down his strong neck.

And there, on his shoulder, is a wet patch of drool covering his leather jacket.

You anxiously wipe at your face and search for something to wipe it off with. Your panicky movements jostle him enough that his eyes flash open only to find your face inches from his.

You smile with a whispered, “hi.”

He blinks a few times before his blue eyes widen, his gaze moving from yours to the spot on his shoulder where you had been wiping.

“I’m sorry about that,” you mumble. “Apparently you’re very comfortable.”

He grins. “Good to know.”

“I guess I dozed off too. Sorry about that doll. I was trying to stay awake and keep you company in case the trip got bumpy.”

“Oh my gosh, don’t be sorry. You looked adora…”

You stop yourself, snapping your mouth shut and then looking down at your seatbelt.

“Think you can help me out of this I need to stretch.”

“Not sure that’s a good idea…” he starts as the jet hits another patch of turbulence.

You ignore his warning and start to work on your seatbelt, opening it with minimal effort and trying to stand. The moment you do your body is thrown off balance and you nearly fall into his lap.

He wraps a strong arm around your waist and holds you close to his chest.

“I got you,” he says with a mischievous smile.

“I shouldn’t have gotten up,” you sigh. “I’m…”

“Nah, don’t worry. I get it. I never liked flying much myself. I’ve just done it so much now I guess I’ve gotten used to it.”

The sincerity in his words and tone make you melt against him and instead of moving back to your seat you rest your head on his shoulder.

“You’re a comfier seatbelt anyway,” you say quietly.

You can feel his eyes on you, but you keep your own on the wall across, afraid of what he’ll see written all over your face.

Once you’re out of the jet and into the fresh air you breathe deeply, taking in all the sights and sounds of the city. Bucky leads you to a small hotel on the upper west side of Manhattan, opening and holding the door for you.

The clerk greets you warmly and asks for your names.

“Separate rooms?” he asks with a questioning look.

You clear your throat and rush out with, “we’re here for business.”

The clerk nods and hands you your keys. You follow Bucky to the elevator, wincing inwardly when you remember your last encounter in one of these machines.

But this time the silence is more comfortable and when you exit Bucky points down the hallway.

“I’m right down here.”

“Looks like I’m next door,” you say. “I’m gonna freshen up.”

“Ok,” he says and watches until you unlock your door and get safely inside.

You fall against it and drop your head along the hard wood, groaning. You’d been on this mission for less than half a day and you’d already drooled on him, practically groped him, and threw yourself in his lap.

“Fucking hell,” you grumble and shuffle toward the bed, falling headfirst onto the pillows.

When you awake with a stretch you realize it’s only been an hour, but your stomach grumbles and you contemplate your food choices.

Before falling asleep you had managed to discard your clothes and don the soft hotel robe hanging in the closet. Now, as you tighten the knot at your waist you peer out into the hallway and hope there are vending machines near the ice machine.

It’s eerily quiet. Not even the sound of a television coming from a nearby room.

You head down the hallway.

“Doll?”

You let out a squeal of surprise in the quiet, the shrill sound echoing off the walls.

You turn and say, far too brightly and loudly, “HI!”

“What are you up to? I was just grabbing something to eat. Didn’t bring any snacks, remember?”

“Snacks?” he repeats, looking around the hallway before his eyes linger on your robe.

“From the vending machine,” you chirp as you lean casually against the wall. “Hungry?”

“What were you gonna get? Doritos?”

A pop of color stains his cheeks and a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Maybe an energy bar?” you muse.

“What about half a peanut butter and jelly?” he offers.

“What no bagel left?”

He dips his head and rubs his hand along the back of his neck.

“Might have eaten that when you feel asleep on the jet.”

Your head falls back with a trill of laughter, and it makes his stomach flip.

“I’d love some pb and j. Thanks.”

“Come on,” he says and steps backward toward his room.

After you stuff the half a sandwich in your mouth, Bucky eyes you suspiciously.

“That definitely wasn’t enough to eat. We have to get you more food. And me too.”

He rubs his belly and stretches, the motion lifting the hem of his henley and exposing the waistband of his boxers and the dark trail of hair that disappears beneath.

“Food…right?” you whisper.

“Are you still hungry?” he asks, oblivious to your ogling.

“Starved,” you say with a harsh swallow.

After excusing yourself back to your room you to change you emerge ready to eat. The air is cooler now and you close your eyes, grateful for the refreshing feeling on your skin.

You take in as much of the city as you can while Bucky leads you with confidence down the street. You reach the corner and wait for the signal to walk. When the light changes, the crowd moves and you feel the press of his palm on the small of your back, urging you forward.

The sensation sends a shiver down your spine and when you reach the other side of the street he stops and gives you a concerned look.

“Are you cold?” he asks and starts to shrug off his jacket.

You’re anything but, however, there is no way you would ever turn down his jacket.

“A little. Guess I wasn’t expecting it to cool off so much.”

“Here,” he says and drapes his jacket over your shoulders. “Better?”

“Much,” you say, snuggling into his warmth and smell. “But won’t you be cold?”

“Nah, I’m like a walking heater,” he promises with a smile.

You continue down the sidewalk, now truly oblivious to all else other than the occasional brush of his shoulder and the feel of his jacket wrapped around you.

His voices pulls you from your trance and you finally register what he’s saying as you look up and see the iconic edifice of the American Museum of Natural History.

“Oh my god,” you say and stop dead in your tracks.

“Pretty cool right.”

You rush toward it, grabbing for your phone.

“Will you take a picture of me?”

You’re still trying to find your phone when you ask him and he laughs, pulling out his own.

“I’ve got mine. I’ll take it and send it to you.”

A sea of tourists rush by before he’s able to open the app and snap a picture but after he does the expression on his face is a little…charmed.

“Got it,” he says, turning the phone to show you. “Came great.”

You squeal in happiness. “Ok, now you come here.”

He stands next to you, and you take his phone. “Let’s get one together.”

“But…” he starts. “Your arms aren’t long enough!”

“Nah, I’ve got this! Just bend down a little and I’ll just…”

You start to maneuver closer to him, your heads almost touching.

“I’m being such a tourist right now,” he grumbles playfully.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone, “You giggle.

He takes the phone from your hand with a smile and holds your gaze for a fraction of a second, clearing his throat.

“Holding you to that doll.”

It takes a few tries to get the angle right but when you do he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in tight, snapping the pic.

He looks at the photo then turns the screen so you can see it. It’s a great picture. You’re both smiling and cozy.

“What’s your number?” he asks.

You recite it and watch as he types. In your pocket your phone buzzes and you chime, “ah there it is!”

You try not to smile too widely at the photo or the fact that Bucky seems to be smiling just as much as he looks at it one more time.

The smell of something good starts to fill your senses as you continue walking down 81st street and when you reach another corner, Bucky stops at the hot dog stand there.

“Always go to the one with the longest line,” he says.

You try to wait patiently but he notices your hopping feet and wiggly fingers.

“Don’t worry doll, it’ll be worth it. I promise.”

Once you have your hot dog in hand you pull him away from the cart and onto a bench under the shade of trees.

You moan around the first bite. “Bucky…oh my god.”

Thankfully, you’re so engrossed in the joy of your street dog that you don’t notice the way he’s staring at your lips, his own parted with his sharp inhale. Your tongue darts out to lick the corner of your mouth and he nearly chokes.

“You ok,” you ask, forgetting about the food.

He nods and holds up his hand, motioning for the bottle of water you bought. You open it and hand it over, watching him take a long drink and focus on the way the muscles in his neck shift with each swallow.

“Yeah, all good,” he sighs, next stealing the napkin from between your fingers.

“So, you like it huh?”

“Yeah,” you say with grin. “Think I need another.”

On the way back to the hotel you discuss the mission and go over your plan for the next few days. You’re mostly there to collect information and be covert so other than being in the right places and the right times you’ll be free to explore.

You point out every landmark, asking questions and hanging on his every word. When you reach the door of the hotel he holds it open for you once more and you realize he’s been quiet the last few blocks as you’ve rambled on.

“Shit,” you mutter. “You must think I’m so weird.”

He smiles and follows you in.

“Weird, yes but weird is good. I like your energy, and I think you’re pretty amazing.”

Before you can respond, the elevator dings and a crowd of people file out. He walks you to your door and you shrug his jacket from your shoulders, hanging over his and waiting until his arms are through before you smooth the leather down his chest and fix the collar.

He sucks in a breath, and you wait, worrying you’ve crossed a line.

“Thanks for getting me dinner,” you whisper.

“Anytime doll face.” A small smile tilts his lips upward as his eyes search yours.

Your hands still linger at his collar, and he takes your wrists, securing your hands around his neck.

This time you gasp and the faint scent of him hangs in the air, leather, and warm spice. You lean in slowly, and he does too, making the space between you disappear. His nose brushes the edge of yours and you can feel his breath across your lips.

“Are you going to kiss me Bucky?”

His chest is pressed against yours and you feel his heavy breathing. He pulls away just enough to look you in the eyes.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” he murmurs.

“I wouldn’t want you to…I’ve thought about this. A lot.”

Your confession makes his brows hit his hairline.

You continue. “I always thought this would just be a crush. But now, spending time with you, I feel like I’m going a bit crazy…in a good way.”

When you look up and meet his wide eyes you groan. “And I’ve said too much and totally freaked you out.”

Your head drops but his fingers catch your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his soft expression.

“No doll, you haven’t. I’m just not used to any of it.”

“I can’t believe that” you smile. “You must have girls falling all over you.”

He shakes his head with a huff of a laugh. “Not really and uh…well, it’s been a while…since I’ve done this.”

He steps back and gives you a sheepish look. “So, if you’re really interested, you’ll have to be patient with me. I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.”

His admission is endearing, and you give him a reassuring smile before leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“You’re worth the wait Bucky.”

You turn and with one last smile, close your door softly and once again collapse on the bed.

The next day you meet Bucky in the hallway, ready to tackle the day and get things done. The brightly shining sun brings plenty of warmth and you notice Bucky rolling up his sleeves as you walk toward your destination.

While you’re admiring his forearms, both metal and flesh, you nearly run into the crowd in front of you. He grabs your arm and pulls you back just in time, against his chest, and you exhale before sharply inhaling the same breath at the feel of him so close.

“You ok?” he asks softly against the shell of your ear.

“Yeah,” you answer. “Sorry. Was just lost in thought.”

He nods in understanding and steers you safely through the crowd. He stays close, his arm hanging at his side and his knuckles occasionally brushing yours. You assume it’s accidental and try not to react as goosebumps spread along your skin. But by the third and fourth time, you begin to wonder.

His pinky extends and caresses yours, and every nerve in your body seems to ignite, beginning at where you skin touches and stopping at your toes. You sway on your feet and your stomach erupts in butterflies.

The more time you spend near each other, the more he seems to unwind, and his wordless flirtation slowly builds throughout the day.

You want to scream at him that he knows exactly what he’s doing but instead you go with it and make sure he knows you’re receptive.

When you’re on the subway back to the hotel, the train rocks back and forth as you move through a darkened tunnel. Your body sways into him and he grabs your hip, holding your back to his chest.

You can feel the flex of his fingers against your skin and the warmth of them through your shirt. By the time the train reaches the station you’re breathing rapidly and walking unsteadily as he guides your toward the train doors and steps behind you.

His large hand remains at your waist, and he presses into you, allowing you to feel him, every inch.

Back at the hotel, your skin is burning and your body aches and you’re sure you can see the same desperation reflected in his eyes.

But instead of making a move he simply takes your hand and lifts it to his lips, watching you over your knuckles and kissing each of them.

He looks like he wants to say something and even inches forward before letting out a nervous exhale and waiting for you to go inside.

It’s torture to feel this way, knowing you’re not dreaming that he wants you but also knowing he’s scared. And besides that, the entire day of quiet foreplay left you needy.

You opt for a relaxing bath which doesn’t relax you at all and when you spread your warm body out on the bed the urge to slip your hand between your legs is too great. Your mind immediately fills with thoughts of how his calloused fingers would feel on your skin, so sensitive and wet.

You know he’s only on the other side of the wall and you think you can hear him talking on the phone, his voice faint but it’s enough for you to pretend.

The swift movement of your fingers along with your wild imagination is enough to send you over the edge with a cry of his name.

It’s only when your breathing evens out that you notice how quiet it seems, and you realize that you might have been too loud.

A knock at your door makes you yelp in surprise, and you hear Bucky’s voice on the other side.

“It’s just me doll.”

On shaky legs you walk to the door and open it only enough to peek out at him. You don’t say anything, and he asks, “everything ok?”

“Yeah, sure, why wouldn’t it be?” you answer, still quite breathless.

“It’s just…I heard…I thought? Did you call my name?”

Your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open.

He taps his ear with a sideways smile. “Super soldier hearing.”

“Well. No. I mean, yes? Maybe. I think I was dreaming?”

He waits for you to finish and then gently pushes on the door.

“Are you gonna let me in?” he asks.

You hold his stare, your heart hammering against your rib cage.

“Are you going to kiss me this time?”

Something in his eyes answers your question and you let go of the door, allowing him to slip inside and shut it.

You lean against it, his hand still pressed to the wood above your head as the other joins it, effectively caging you in.

He tilts his head, wearing a smile that gently pulls at his lips.

“What were you really doing in here?” he asks.

Your gaze moves from his lips to his eyes and every coherent thought leaves your head. You stare and let your tongue trace the outline of your mouth.

“Answer me,” he demands quietly.

“I was thinking of you.”

He bends to kiss your neck softly, his lips tracing the column of your throat before meeting just below your ear to whisper, “that’s it?”

“And touching myself.”

He inhales sharply through his nose, exhaling your name and dropping his hands to take your face between them. He drags his nose along your jaw and then his lips hover just above yours.

He stills and as much as you know he wants this you know his insecurities are hard to overcome.

You slide your hands up his chest, feeling the strong muscles flex beneath your fingers, and curl your hands around the back of his neck.

“I came with your name on my lips,” you whisper, keeping your eyes on his.

It’s all he needs, and he lets a low growl rumble through his chest before he closes the distance and kisses you. Your lips slide over his and you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, making him groan.

Your fingers dig into his hair as his hands slide along the curve of your waist to your back, clutching and bringing you impossibly close.

The kiss grows deeper, and you let out tiny little gasps as he tastes you, barely registering what you’re saying before, “please, Bucky, escapes.

“Please what?” he says, his lips sliding to your ear, softly kissing the skin beneath. “Anything.”

“Just…kiss me.”

He smiles against your lips. “Pretty sure that’s exactly what I was doing doll face.”

“Touch me,” you beg, taking his metal hand and sliding it down between your breasts.

“You can’t be real,” he breathes out.

You kiss his neck, lifting your lips to his earlobe and nibbling it before whispering, “I am and I’m all yours.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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hyunebunx · 3 months ago

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Wow I’m stupid I pressed send way too fast 🩵 with Lee Know??

˖˙ ᰋ ── 🩵 - kissing in the rain with Minho

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: a teeny tiny amount of angst but it has a happy ending

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: thank you sm for requesting!!! <3 i had soo many ways of writing this in my head that i struggled lol. i really hope you like what i came up with. it's loosely (very) based on the rain scene in pride and prejudice so enjoy!! <33

Arguments were not a usual occurrence in your relationship. Most of the time you managed to settle any disagreement before it could escalate to such heights, the perfectly communicating couple all of your friends couldn’t help but feel a little envious of.

Now was not one of those times; your stress and emotions were getting the best of both you and Minho in the most unpleasant way. You hated arguing with him, getting angry and unable to see the other’s point of view, clouded by the desire to be right and make each other understand where you were coming from.

“You don’t get it.” Minho shakes his head with a sigh, forearms resting on the wheel as the rain poured outside your safe haven, hitting the windshield at an alarming pace and preventing you from seeing anything, even with the headlights on.

“Explain it to me, then!” You bite back, body facing his in the heated passenger seat that was keeping you warm and cozy despite the chill outside. Even when arguing you could admit Minho was the most considerate person alive – you didn’t ask him to turn on the heat, he must have done it when he noticed you trembling like a leaf after getting in.

He surprised you after work, dropping by and driving directly to one of your favorite restaurants just in time for dinner and a well deserved date night. Everything was perfect, the location, the food, and especially the company, laughing and having a great time with the love of your life.

Until things turned sour on your drive home, and what started as a silly disagreement turned into a full-on argument about something you didn’t find significant enough even to remember.

“That’s what I’ve been doing for the past ten minutes but it seems you don’t want to listen!”

You’ve been walking (or driving) in circles, with him getting frustrated and you following right on his tail until the car came to a stop right in front of your apartment building.

It’s not like you didn’t want to listen or care to hear him out, it’s just that Minho seemed to make something out of nothing, insisting and pushing forth the same idea like you were nothing more than a child who lacked basic comprehension. It was frustrating and exhausting, especially after the long day you’ve had.

“Min, I’ve been listening.” You try to smooth things over, warm hand landing on his thigh comfortingly. “Just because I’m not giving you the answers you want doesn’t mean I’m not hearing you.”

Minho remains silent, head turned the other way to stare out the window and not acknowledge your presence. When the silence stretches on, you give up with a sigh and retract your hand, reaching for your purse in the backseat and opening the car door in the same breath.

“What are you – “ You close it right before he can finish the sentence, set on getting inside with or without him to finally take the bubble bath you’ve been daydreaming about all day at work.

“Kitten!” His voice follows a moment later, the sound of the car door slamming louder than him amongst the deafening rain. “Y/n!”

Despite yourself and the insanity of spending even one more minute in this storm, you stop and allow him to catch up, not protesting as his warm hands land on your shoulders and turn you around almost desperately.

“Where are you going? We are not done talking.” He states, dark hair and clothes getting soaked at an alarming pace as the rain spares neither of you.

“But I am!” You exhale, the chill settling into your bones. “We won’t reach an agreement like this so let’s just stop!”

His eyes widen as he pulls you closer, chest to chest, figures illuminated by the bright headlights almost blinding. “Baby, wait – “

“I hate fighting with you, Min.” Without meaning to, you interrupt him once again, reaching up to cup his face and drag him closer. “I’m sorry, okay? We can talk this over calmly inside after we cool down. Just not like this, please, I can’t do it anymore.”

He nods instantly, agreeing without a doubt and most likely seeing his faults too, and not only yours. Then, when you expect him to let go and finally follow you in, Minho surprises you the second time tonight by leaning over and connecting your lips in a kiss full of passion and love, reminding you once again that the heart in his chest beats first and foremost for you. His upper limbs cling to your body just like your clothes, hugging you tightly while your hands squeeze his face affectionately, a smile sneaking past and pulling one from him as well, on the verge of beaming into the kiss.

The rain seems to disappear, the cold too, like you weren’t bothered by either in the first place. Minho has that effect on you, helping you see the good in every situation. Sure, the location was not ideal – nothing could be less romantic than a barely lit parking lot – but as always, the company mattered more. And the message he was trying to send. When words failed you, actions worked better, speaking louder and getting your point across without much effort.

Sure, the argument wasn’t resolved but you both managed to make the other understand what mattered the most. You might be disagreeing now, momentarily stuck in a small pothole along the way, but you still loved each other, you would get over it and be okay in the end.

Because that’s what true love meant. Getting through things together and continuing to walk down your joined paths, hand in hand, no matter how many potholes or rough patches you encounter. A small setback won’t ever erase your feelings for each other, or make you forget all the beautiful moments you’ve shared.

And maybe, just maybe, a kiss was all you needed to finally understand Minho’s point when you sat down and resolved things that night. He, on the other hand, needed a few more to be satisfied.

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids soft thoughts #stray kids soft hours #skz angst #skz fluff #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know x you

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kentopedia · 11 months ago

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I loooveee the way u write nanami 🥺🥺 was wondering if u could do a mini fic on nanami x reader but when they were in high school :O I feel reader would constantly flirt with him but he stays unbothered until she stops 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 thank uuuu

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS — nanami kento

omg thank u so so much, you're very sweet <3 i think i was taking requests when you asked this, so im so so so sorry i took forever to answer :( this isn't exactly what you said but i hope it's close to what you had in mind <3

contents: sfw, high school nanami & reader, mutual pining, silly teenage emotions, fluff, it's not even really romantic but they're best friends that won't admit they have a crush on each other, reader is shorter than him, gn!reader — 1.2k

“you can’t stay mad at me forever, kento.”

your best friend — or so you thought — stayed silent as you walked through the abandoned warehouse, searching for the curses that needed exorcising. so far, they’d evaded you, just as kento had all of your questions.

he glanced over at you, mouth drawn into its usual line. “i can if i want.”

“oh really?” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued forward, following him through the building. “are you fifteen or five? you’re supposed to be the mature one!”

kento rolled his eyes, but didn’t dignify that with a verbal response, letting his blade dangle loosely at his side. an odd sound echoed through the hallways, but it wasn’t quite menacing enough to be a curse.

you groaned. “don’t you know everyone will just keep pairing us up on missions until we work this out?” if kento was going to continue to be a pain, you wouldn’t allow him the silence he wanted so desperately. he’d been ignoring you for over a week. “haibara’s lucky. he gets to go with the second years.”

nanami glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow, before looking ahead once more. “you mean he’s lucky he gets to go with gojo.”

though you weren’t sure if it was supposed to be an insult to you or not, you laughed. “maybe.”

“yeah,” kento scoffed. “i thought so.”

the tone was flatter than usual, even for someone like kento, and you raised your eyebrows, letting the words settle between you.

“you’re being so sour. you know, you never even told me what i did wrong. you’re so mad at me, kento, and i don’t even really know why.”

kento watched his feet take one step, then another, the opposite ones moving ahead. he’d grown a lot over the summer — a fact you’d somehow only realized. since when had he been that much taller than you?

“i’m not mad,” he finally settled on. a weak argument as to why he’d been ignoring you for the duration of your mission, and the week before.

you frowned, chewing the inside of your mouth. although kento had a kind heart, you knew how nasty he could be to people he didn’t like. you didn’t want to be one of those on the list. “kento… i really am sorry. if i’ve done something wrong.”

the tension drained from his shoulders. he sighed. “you haven’t.”

despite wanting to push the issue further, you let it die, deciding to listen to the silence in case of any curses. though, it had been nearly half an hour, and you hadn’t found any yet. you were beginning to think that maybe your teacher had led you astray.

“can i ask you something?” kento, after ten minutes, finally interrupted the quiet again. and though that sort of phrase was never a good sign, you would’ve taken anything to get him talking to you again.

“of course, kento.”

he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, seeming shy, almost. had it not been so dark, you would have seen the slight tint of pink on his cheeks, that you only assumed was there to begin with.

“what is it about gojo that you like so much?”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“you’re… interested in him, aren’t you? like that?” kento shifted awkwardly, holding his body as if it wasn’t quite his own. “i mean, i just assumed…”

all over, you great hot, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, a wave of dread heaping onto your stomach. “you think i have a crush on gojo?”

“don’t you?”

you thought about it for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“maybe?” kento pinched his eyebrows together. “what the hell kind of answer is that? you either do or you don’t.”

“i think he’s...” you stumbled over the words, not really sure when you’d started talking to nanami kento about these sorts of things. the words tasted sour in your mouth. “well, i suppose he’s attractive, isn’t he? he’s certainly charming. he makes me laugh.”

“you’re always flirting with him," kento said skeptically.

you shrugged. "i'm just teasing. if you consider that flirting, then i guess i am."

“hm. you sound like you think you’re supposed to be interested in him, just because he’s gojo.”

that raised a small laugh out of you. “maybe you’re right. i think i might just be interested in people i know won’t ever like me back.” kento’s eyes flashed, and before he could say anything, lips parted, you continued. “but what do i know about anything, anyway? teenagers are supposed to be dumb like that, aren’t they?”

kento frowned, brown eyes softer than you’d seen in awhile. “i don’t think you’re dumb.”

“thanks.” for some reason, that made you bashful, darting your eyes away as you smiled at the ground. “have you ever had a crush on anyone, kento?”

he gave you a tiny little smile, poking you in the temple, before repeating your words from earlier. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“you’re so stupid.”

kento laughed, then, a light noise that was more familiar to you than it was to a lot of others. “you know, if it makes you feel better, i think gojo likes you. really, i do. he thinks you’re pretty. he likes when you laugh at his jokes. geto told us. he talks about you to him all the time.”

and though you’d expected the words to send a wave of glee over you, the sort of silly emotion that came with a teenage crush, you didn’t feel excited as you should've. perhaps because satoru had never been the one you wanted.

“gojo just likes to be admired. besides, everyone likes when people laugh at their jokes. that's not special.” you kicked at the floor. “anyway, geto’s probably just telling you all that so you’ll tell me and i’ll make a fool of myself in front of them. that would really make them laugh.”

kento frowned, contemplative. “i don’t think he would do that.”

he wouldn’t. it just seemed the only good way to diverge the conversation.

you threw your hands up, expelling a loud sigh. “well… whatever. honestly, it doesn't matter. i don’t think i even want a boyfriend.”

kento gawked at you for a moment, lips slightly parted, before he shook his head, another snort of a laugh leaving him. “you’re so confusing.”

“you should be relieved. wouldn’t you be miserable if i started dating gojo?” you were only teasing him, bumping his shoulder with your own, a playful grin on your face.

but kento’s voice was gentle when he returned his answer, and the relief was evident on his face. “i would.”

whether you knew it then, or not, that little confession had changed the course of your life. you brushed it off easily, gripping your cursed tool tightly as you turned the corner again.

“hey kento?”

“what? the curses are going to sneak up on us if—”

“you’re my best friend, by the way. even if i was dating gojo, you’d still be my best friend. you’ll always be my best friend.” you stopped him, serious now. “no matter what happens.”

kento smiled softly, barely there at all. he squeezed your hand in return. “i hope so.”

#kento nanami x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆#xoxo rylie 💌 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

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eddiesxangel · 1 year ago

Text

Fool Me Once | Eddie Munson x Reader

Anonymous Asked: Eddie being your first everything and first boyfriend and reader is like kinda awkward or something. Then Eddie gets really drunk and gets home to reader and starts yelling at her saying like “You’re only dating me because you don’t want to be a sad loser virgin.” and she gets really sad because she genuinely loves him so much and she starts thinking that he doesn’t love her at all… Then maybe the day after he can’t find reader anywhere and maybe she’s like with robin just crying her eyes out.

AN: IDK IDK it’s my first angsty thing I’ve done hope it’s ok 🫣

Cw: angst, hurt no comfort. Small bitty smut. Use of pet names, one use of reference to reader as “my girl”

“I love you, god, I love you” Eddie slowly pumped his swollen cock in and out of you.

You’ve never felt this wave of pleasure before; no wonder everyone was so hyped about sex.

“Fuck you’re so tight.”

“Baby, please.” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but the feeling in your lower stomach was starting to build more and more and more until! Euphoria. Euphoria fuelled your body. The wave of pleasure that Eddie just granted you felt indebted to him.

“I love you,” you sigh as your body melts into your boyfriend.

You’ve been with him for almost six months and finally felt ready to give himself to him. You hadn’t slept with anyone until now, and you were so happy you waited. You never felt so close, so in love, so unbelievably happy in this moment. Life was amazing; nothing could ever break this feeling you have.

Ring ring ring

You were abruptly awakened by the sound of your phone ringing. You were fast asleep, and now feeling disoriented, you looked at the clock. It was already 3:38am. You wondered who could be calling you at this late hour. Maybe it was an emergency? Your heart racing, you rushed over to the phone in a state of panic.

"Hello?"

"You little slut"

"Eddie?"

"Who else would it be? Are you expecting a booty call? another guy you want to fuck?"

"I don't understand? What's wrong."

“What's wrong? I'll tell ya what's wrong! You’re only with me, so you’re not some loser virgin, that’s what! Do you think all the guys will want you to know that your cherry is popped? Well, guess what, honey? Now you're just a sad little whore.” He slurred.

“Wha-“

“You think you’re hot shit now? Getting with the freak of Hawkins? Gonna brag about how you fucked the freak?”

“Eddie, what are you talking about?” your voice wobbled.

He was obviously drunk out of his mind, but as they all say, drunk words are a sober man’s thoughts.

“I know how this is going to go… well, not if I beat you to it.”

“I don't understand?”

“I don't understand?” He mocked you in a high-pitched voice. “I’ll tell you what I’m talking about!” He yelled, and you cowered. He didn’t care. His voice got louder and louder. “You were a sad loooooser virgin before me! And now you’re just a sad loser who fucked the freak,” he laughed. He actually laughed.

"Eddie-"

“So we are don-”

You hung up the phone before he could finish his sentence.

You couldn't believe this was happening? You gave Eddie everything. You thought he was your everything up until this point. You slept with Eddie for the first time a week ago. Things were good, great, even. Until he went to the hideout tonight without you.

You stayed up the rest of the night because you were in tears about what Eddie said. None of this makes any sense? You always loved Eddie, and you thought he loved you back? How could he be so cruel?

You were woken up from your daze by a knock on your apartment door. You stumbled out of your room, still in your sleep shirt, with puffy eyes from crying all night. Robin was here to pick you up for work.

"Good Mor-" Her smile dropped along with the cup of coffee she was handing you as she saw your appearance. "Oh my god! What happened?" she rushed inside to wrap her arms around you.

"Eddie. He-" You could hardly get the words out. You just crumpled into a ball on the floor and sobbed pathetically in front of Robin.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch" She let you cry into her on the floor. "Come on, you need to get out of here. Get changed. We are calling in sick, and we can return to my place."

Eddie woke up the morning after with a terrible hangover. It was already 12:35pm, and he couldn't remember how he got home. He suddenly felt an intense wave of nausea, which prompted him to hurry to the bathroom, where he vomited uncontrollably.

After the fifth shot, things in his memory become a little hazy. He was pretty hammered by then, but he still kept drinking with the boys. He vaguely remembered Jason being at the bar and making some leud comment about you, but other than that. Nothing.

He stumbled over to his answering machine to find it empty. That's weird? You always call him before your shift, and at least try to catch him on your lunch break. Today was Wednesday, right? You always work the morning shifts today.

Eddie tried calling your number, but he had no luck, so he tried calling your work, and when they said you called in sick, he got worried. So he tried your number again, and it still went to voice mail. Maybe you were sleeping? He tried calling back to see if Robin might know more. But when your annoyed coworker picked up the phone to tell him Robin also called in sick, he knew something was up.

Eddie rushed to his phone book to find Robin's number and called it. he waited for four rings until...

"Hello?"

"Hey! Rob it's Eddie, have you-"

"We are not speaking to you."

"We? Who's we?"

But it was too late. All he heard was the sound of the dial tone.

He tried again, no answer this time. He tried once more before getting pissed and decided to just go over to her place because what the fuck?

When Eddie got to Robin's, he pounded on the door like the pounding going on in his head.

"Robin! Open the door, please."

The door finally swung open to a very angry-looking Robin standing before him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Munson?!" She stepped outside and closed the door behind her so he couldn't come in.

"Robin, I'm extremely hungover and do not have the patience for your riddles. Do you know where my girl is or not? I'm worried sick."

"Oh, you can relax now since she is not your girl anymore, buddy." she poked his chest roughly. "you made that abundantly clear last night.

"Last night? I don't remember a thing from last night!"

"Well, think harder because she has been in there sobbing her eyes out from your little phone call."

"Phone call? What pho-" Then it all came rushing back to Eddie. It hit him like a Mack Truck.

"Yo Munson, where is that little whore of yours? Is she usually dangling off your arm like your little pet?" Jason snorted. "I bet she's off sucking another guy's cock; realized what a loser you are."

Jason didn't say much more to antagonize Eddie and get in his head, especially with the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

How could he be so stupid?

"Robin, oh my god, I fucked up. I fucked up big. Let me apologize."

"No. not now." She's a mess, as you can imagine-"

Robin was interrupted by the creek of the front door opening.

There you stood, looking as small as ever. Your eyes are still puffy, and your hair is a mess in your pyjamas at 1:30 in the afternoon.

"Baby, I-"

"Don't!" you cut him off, and Robin leaves to give you two spaces. "Don't you dare come here and think you can just take back what you said to me!" You had done a lot of crying; your anger was showing through.

"You don't understand, Jason was-"

"Jason?! What the fuck does Jason have to do with this? You hurt me, Eddie! I gave you everything! And then you throw it back in my face, accusing me of sleeping around? Are you insane? I've been in love with you for the last year and give myself to you, and you just throw that all away because of Jason Fucking Carver?"

"Baby, please, I'm so sorry; I'll do anything!"

"You've done enough." You turn and slam the door. That's it. You were done. Your heart felt so heavy… like it was just smashed into a million pieces. You were so close to caving when you saw the look of sorrow in those puppy dog eyes. But he had hurt you so bad you couldn’t believe he felt an ounce of pain he had inflicted upon you.

You and Eddie were officially done.

You have been radio silent. You were held up in your room, and you refused to do anything other than go to work.

Eddie called you excessively. It was every day, multiple times a day. His messages made your heartache as you played them back. You could hear in his voice how broken he was. He had fucked up so bad you didn’t know if you should give him another chance. For two weeks, you refused to answer your phone. You were so sick of it ringing you eventually took it off the line.

Eddie did everything he could think of to try and win you back. He sent you flowers to your work every single shift. He called, wrote love letters, and just needed you to speak to him. He was a desperate mess without you. Eddie’s heart, like not, was ripped into shreds, and it was all his fault.

You’ve been in his life since high school since he met you in hellfire freshman year. Then, once you finally confessed your feelings for one another, he couldn’t believe his luck. You said you wanted to be with him, that you wanted him to be the only one you give yourself to. He never thought that he would be so lucky... And here he was, shooting himself in the foot. He even tried to go to your apartment a few times. But you would never answer the door. He would leave a note each time he showed up unannounced. It would say how sorry he was and how much he loved you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to believe him.

The slurred words repeatedly played in your head, and you couldn’t make it stop. No matter how much he apologized, nothing he could say could make you forget. Your chest felt like it had a fifty-pound weight sitting right on your heart. Your eyes were permanently swollen from the continuous crying you couldn’t seem to stop. He had stolen your heart and then stomped on it until it seized to beat.

The first month after the breakup was rough, but avoiding Eddie seemed to be easy enough. He eventually got the message by month two and stopped trying altogether.

As time went on, you slowly started to heal. Eventually, your constant thoughts about Eddie subsided. Eventually, they stopped. You never thought you would get over the hurt, but the distance helped. You were getting on your merry way by month three. Finally, feeling like yourself again, eating regularly, sleeping regularly. You hadn’t heard or seen him, and you were finally freed from the prison sentence that was Eddie Munson.

Time spent with your friends and family was exactly what you needed. Even though Robin saw Eddie regularly, she never forgave him for what he did to you. Their friendship was strained, which strained his friendship with Steve as well as Nancy. They wanted to take his side, but once they heard what he had said to you, they couldn’t simply look the other way. So you would hang out with them when Eddie wasn’t there and vice versa. They made sure you never had to encounter one another for the time being. However, it was getting more and more difficult to have two separate schedules to appease you both.

You were to go to Steve’s for dinner with everyone, pizza and movie night. When you arrived, everyone was tense. Lines got crossed, miscommunication ensued, and as you walked through to the kitchen, he was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water in his hand, almost slipping from his grip as his Bambi eyes widened at the sight of you.

“Oh shit!” You hear Steve curse when he realizes the mistake that has been made.

“I’m going to go.” You turn and sprint to the door.

“Not wait!l You can hear Eddie shuffle off the chair behind you, but you refuse to look back.

“Please! Wait!”

Threatening tears sting your eyes, and you rush out the front door.

“Sweetheart, wait.” You feel his hand hook your elbow as your body is jerked in the opposite direction in which you’re running.

“What!” You yell, but then you see his eyes. You really look at him for the first time in three months. He had bags under his eyes, and the dark circles extenuated the deep chocolate of his eyes.

“I-I uh,” he lets out a deep breath, “I wanted to say I’m sorry I’m so sorry. I was so god damn stupid, so so stupid, the dumbest guy on the planet. I can’t believe I fucked this up so badly; I love you. I love you so much. I can’t do this anymore without you, baby. Please.” He was on his knees, begging, literally on his knees, grovelling.

“Eddie, get up.”

“No, I don’t deserve it.” He was so pathetic, but he didn’t care. “I love you, please, just please. I need you in my life.”

“I don’t know Eddie…”

“So that’s not a no?!” He popped up like an excited little bunny, the silver oh hope he needed to get by.

“Eddie…” you sigh.

“No, no, you said maybe! You don’t know. You haven’t decided. Please, baby, I love you.”

“This is too hard.” Your lip wobbles as you try walking away again, but he interlocks your hand with his.

“Please, can I at least just hold you?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You let your hand slip from his grip, and he unwillingly let go.

Eddie felt you slipping through his fingers, literally. The hope he had moments ago was gone.

“I’m sorry”

“So am I…” without another look back, you walked away.

#Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine

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targaryenluvs · 1 year ago

Text

— love, and other things

pairings: clarisse la rue x aphrodite!daughter!reader x luke castellan

summary: luke and clarisse attempt to ease you into the concept of you all hanging out, with one end goal, the three of you happily together, which you practically already are.

warnings: luke and clarisse r kinda oblivious, reader is loving this, fluff, worry, kisses n hugs, confessions, luke is lovesick, attackdogs clair and luke

a/n: part one here! since everyone liked the concept, here’s part two! based on the reaction i’ve toned it down, sorry to anyone offended ❤️

tags: @onlyreadz @iluvthemoonandthestars @yourmom2909 @quinnsadilla @littlemiss-fanficlover @shark1008 @prwttiestbunny @urbisexualfriend @symp4nat @dracoslovergirl @slaggylemon @readerreadereater @luv-mia @theworldscalamity @madelainelupin16 @63angel @lildippersblog @ella33 @mira-belcul18 @humongoustacosalad @yourfavmiki @karslyn @sincerely-silk @poppysrin @leahthesimp @yourestargir1 @a2004sworld @lafemmii @liballer @dxddyissue @ahh-chickens @hervegasbaby @love-swimmingwolf @chickenking067 @girl-how-tf-this-shit-work @chr1sgirl4life @dorcas4meadowes @greenlucky7 @zealousenthusiastcheesecak @jonmartinsworldfr @whoemj @dracoslovergirl @stars4salem @csifandom @livil589 @4cepink @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @abbofff @trinkettray @perseus-jackass @kyleebilinski @angelic-delilah @voidashh @craftypastadeanbailiff @jemsyg @babysharkdodorodododo @brook8xoxo @marsbars09 @babyzzlove @lorarri @jadahxx @slutcoresblog

it started off slow of course.

they didn’t want to bombard you with the idea, so they settled with hanging out as a trio more often. it was basically normal at this point. you’d always be hanging out with eachother, talking, laughing, it was great.

you loved having your girlfriend and bestfriend get along finally, being able to hang out with both of them. but the feelings you had stirred confusion in you, and you couldn’t get rid of them. you’d always find yourself debating whether or not you wanted to tell luke about how you felt, but then the guilt would start up again. you had a girlfriend.

luke and clarisse could tell you were acting oddly, but they couldn’t tell why. were you nervous? uncomfortable? it was practically driving them crazy, little did they know you’d finally worked up the nerve to speak up.

yourself and clarisse were sat near the strawberry fields, your head in her lap as you continued to rant about your favourite book. you looked around and realised that the two of you were alone, which was rare. it was now or never, “clair,” she hummed, looking back towards you, “i, can i tell you something?” you sat up, straightening your back, “i think, i think i like luke.”

clarisses heart had been beating in her chest the second you wanted to tell her something, at your words she smiled, luke was going to freak out. “okay.” your eyes were so close to popping out of your head. clarisses temper was known, on a bad day just crossing her path could cause you to have your head shoved in the floor.

and you’d just told her you have a crush on someone else and she was smiling at you. who on earth was this and what had they done to your girlfriend?

“okay? that’s it?” clarisse took your hands into hers gently, “luke likes you too, and i don’t mind it. i— i might like him too. we didn’t want you to be scared or pressured. if you want us all to be together, than that’s your choice. i’m not going anywhere, and if luke is your friend then he’ll accept it.” you sighed, and clarisse held her breath, “how is this going to work?”

for about an hour yourself and clarisse talked about how your relationship would be, what would change, and what would stay. overall, it was just loving an extra person. of course it would be tricky at times, but as long as you were together you could figure it out. now everything aside, it was time to screw with luke.

luke would walk you back to your cabin at night all the time, obviously today would be no different. but what he didn’t know was that clarisse was waiting inside. the idea was basically to mess with him and flirt, but his soft smile and gorgeous eyes attacked your heart.

climbing up the stairs together, your hand reached out for his, stopping luke promptly as he looked at you, “just wait a second,” he grinned, “are you trying to confess your undying love?” the giggle was quiet but heard as heat rose to luke’s cheeks, “well actually,” his eyes grew a bit as he laughed uncomfortably, “i do, well i love you yes as a friend but i like you a lot. i never really admitted it to myself let alone you, but i told clarisse and she told me you liked me back. even before the two of us began dating. i’m sorry for making you wait, it was probably torture.”

he squeezed your hands, “it was. i tried my best to be happy for you but all i could think about was how much i wanted to be in her position. and then out of nowhere, i realised how gorgeous she was. the two of you, i’ve never felt like this before.” you smiled, “well we can all figure it out together no?” you stepped closer to him, hands on his face, smiling at the evident blush, “can i kiss you?” he smiled, “please.”

the kiss is sweet, and everything luke could have wished for, he’d been waiting for so long and he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to let go. your hand reached to his neck, pulling him even closer, the door opening had you pulling back revealing a grinning clarisse. “i take it you didn’t go with the plan?” luke scoffed, “plan? what plan?” the two of laughed as you all made your way inside, “she was supposed to flirt with you and make you flustered. you are blushing so i wouldn’t say it’s a total fail.”

“so, what are we?” luke questioned the two of you, you shrugged your shoulders. clarisse laid down on the bed with you next to her, and on your right, luke. feet dangling off the bed and all staring up at the ceiling, “together, i think that’s all that matters.” clarisse replied as you frowned, “but what are people going to say?” luke and clarisse got up at the same time, anger filling the both of them at the idea of you being made fun of, not them, you. “if anyone has the stupidity to even comment on it, they’ll be in the infirmary for a month.” luke smiled, “no one’s going to say anything, because we won’t let them. don’t worry your head about it.” you smiled, kissing clarisse on instinct. “don’t third wheel me now.” luke smirked as you rolled your eyes, “clarisse is right there.” the two inched closer as you laid back down.

you couldn’t actually believe what you were seeing, yourself, clarisse and luke, in your bed, strewn about and happy. all interacting, all together. luke’s head was about to explode due to the fact that he had two amazing girls, all to himself.

the rest of the night you laughed and talked, your cabin siblings joining in as you all stayed up.

speaking about love and other things.

there’s been a lot of talk obviously and i understand where everyone is coming from so i toned it down and will continue to do so.

i’m sorry to anyone that was offended beforehand, i totally understand what you’re speaking on and what you think. to everyone who was excited for the previous version, please understand why i changed it. i love writing, but not at the expense of others.

- kira

#clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackon and the olympians #clarisse x luke x reader

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sandwhitches · 5 months ago

Note

hii! can i have a cherry popsicle abt suna confessing to the reader but he’s super nervous?? thanks so much! feel free to request smth from me if you’d like to do a little exchange:)

a/n: u must be a mind reader because i’ve LITERALLY been working on this exact prompt omg!!! it’s longer than a drabble (lowkey really long so i just formatted it like a fic☠️) because i already had most of it written when u requested so enjoy :3!! also u BET im gonna send u a request yay!!!

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐟𝐭. 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨)

desc: suna is an idiot and seeks the help of an unlikely (and annoying, in his humble opinion) ally to help him confess to you

content: fem. reader, language, suna’s little sister guest star!!!!! (i love that he canonically has a little sister; she’s like middle school age in this ughhhh suna as a big brother makes me want to combust), suna pining for you like a big stupid idiot

wc: 1.5k

this is a part of my summer writing event!!! please feel free to send some requests my way :3

Suna Rintaro knows two things for certain: firstly, he’s absolutely in love with you, and secondly, he hasn’t a clue what to do about it. It was easier for him to come to terms with the latter, seeing as he’d spent most of his teenage years rolling his eyes at mushy displays of affection and taking the piss out of his friends who seemed to have traded all necessary brain function in exchange for falling in love.

To him, falling in love this early on in life was as worthless and cheap as the chocolate he watched be gifted every Valentines Day; eventually, they’ll eat what they like and throw what they don’t in the trash, he’s seen it done countless times before, and he’d be stupid to let something like that happen to him.

Still, here he is, knee-deep and sinking even deeper as the moments go by, he thinks falling in love might be like being pushed into quicksand. As odd as it is for him to admit it to himself, he doesn’t mind it at all.

There’s a certain giddiness that can’t be awarded any time other than when you talk to him. He spends the rest of the afternoon and evening thinking about your conversations, wondering if he said something wrong, thinking of all the ways he could have prolonged the exchange, and smiling fondly when he remembers he managed to make you laugh three times (a new record for him).

“What’s with that face?” Atsumu had interrupted Suna during one of the breaks at volleyball practice, his idiotic grin on full display in Rintaro’s face. Had he really been smiling just from thinking about you?

Suna had mumbled something that sounded like an awkward mixture of shut up and fuck off, quick to storm away in hopes that Atsumu didn’t catch the violent reddening of his cheeks. This is not good, he thinks, love can’t really be this hard to ignore, can it?

He’s put up a hard battle against this exact scenario, and he’s afraid you might have unknowingly thrown a wrench right into his fine tuned machine of a brain. If this really was a battle, he’s fine raising a white flag in order to get to make you laugh more often, for the slight possibility of getting to know if your lips really feel as soft as they appear, and the hope that one day he might forget all about what it was like not to be entirely in love with you.

This is the nail in the coffin, his final surrender. Being in love really must make people stupid, because he’s nervously tugging his collar as he knocks on his younger sister's door. She chirps a surprised “Come in!” and Rintaro struggles to actually reach for the door, consumed with the reality of the fact that this really is where he’s ended up in his life. Great.

His sister gives him an incredulous look when she realizes it had been him who knocked, eyeing him suspiciously, “What do you want?” She mumbles in confusion, setting her pencil down. Suna parts his lips, mouth running dry, then sighs loudly, shaking his head.

“What is it?” She inquires, sudden agitation laced in her tone. Rintaro looks at the ground, too embarrassed to see the inevitable shift in her expression when he asks, “What’s the right way to ask out a girl?”

A silence follows that isn’t long enough in Suna’s opinion, quickly cut off by a loud bark of laughter, “No way! You’re asking me for advice?”

Here’s another thing Suna Rintaro knew for certain, there’s no word that describes the extent in which his younger sister is the bane of his existence.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Suna mutters self-consciously. This probably was a bad idea in theory, but as much as it pains him to admit it, this is his last resort. He knows next to nothing about how to be normal about talking to you, let alone confess; something is better than nothing in this situation, and he swears to himself that he will make sure he never has to ask his sister for advice like this again.

Love, when it comes to you, has to be a one and done thing. He’s sincerely praying to whoever is watching over him that he never has to feel the terror of confessing to anyone else again. It just has to be you.

That’s why he’s here, standing about as stiff as a marble statue as he pushes a shaky finger to your doorbell, drawing his hand back swiftly as if it burned him. In a spurt of unexplainable confidence, Suna had asked if you wanted to hang out on Saturday, conveniently leaving out the part where he desperately wished for it to be more than just a hang out.

Earlier that morning, he’d been so close to chickening out that his sister, of all people, angrily dragged him to the nearest grocery store with a scowl.

“Don’t get her roses, it’s way too soon for that kind of flower!” She snapped, swatting Suna’s hand away from the bouquet.

“Daisies? Seriously? Are you a serious?”

It would be an utter lie if Suna did not admit that he had no idea what his sister was talking about. If love really is this complex, maybe he’s not the right person for it. Still, he finds himself lingering on the face you make when you laugh, the way you’re the first person that he never got sick of texting into the early hours of the morning, and how you’re the only person that could ever make him reconsider that puppy love and crushes might mean something more than he’d given them credit for.

After all, the way he felt for you is what people call love, isn’t it?

Suna grips the assorted bouquet of colorful flowers that his sister had deemed good enough, listening to the sound of your front door clicking open. He’s doomed, this is a bad idea, and yet it’s the only thing he wants to do.

How’d you get to be so beautiful? Suna wonders that a lot, in fact, it makes him angry that you’d just waltzed into his life like you did. It’s absolutely unfair, he was a dead man before he could even put up a fight. Falling in love with you was unavoidable from the beginning, but he seems to be just okay with that.

“Oh!” Your eyes go wide, nonplussed by the bouquet in his hands, “Flowers for me?” You snicker, your laughter is probably the worst thing that could possibly happen right now, it makes everything ten times harder to do.

“Yeah, um-” Rintaro sputters, nervously darting his eyes around for the answer to your question. He knew the answer. You knew the answer.

Hastily, he holds it out for you to take, which you do without hesitation, “What’s the occasion?”

Suna Rintaro knows two more things for certain: firstly, he’ll die if he doesn’t tell you how he feels, and secondly, you’re smart enough to have already surmised exactly what the occasion is.

Everything his sister told him, advisories of “That’s too creepy!” and “Don’t be so blunt about it!” all fly to the back of his mind in exchange for the only things he can really manage to say.

“Well,” Suna starts, cringing at the way his voice cracks, he knows this is about to be the world’s worst confession.

“I, um, I got these for you because I think you’re really pretty,” you watch in bewilderment as his cheeks gradually saturate into a bright red, “but, that’s not just it!” Suna blurts, “You’re also really smart, and funny, and you’re probably the only person I could sit and talk to for hours without getting annoyed by-” Now, Suna is blatantly breaking the third piece of advice his sister had given him, don’t ramble.

“And, I really look forward to talking to you, even if it’s about boring stuff, I still want to hear you talk all day. Which, saying that out loud is really embarrassing for me, but, not because I’m embarrassed of you, I’m just embarrassed that I’m so-”

“Suna-” you interrupt, the cellophane wrap of the bouquet you held crackles as you lower it to see him better. You watch, partially in amusement, while the boy across from you struggles to comprehend everything he just said.

Suna is done for when it comes to you, this was priorly understood, so why is it so hard to put it into words if it’s all he ever thinks about? “I like you a lot…is that okay?” He finally sighs, pale green eyes flickering up to search for a silent answer in the faltering of your expression.

“That’s okay.” You nod, dumbfounded by the sudden declaration, each word was spoken with more confidence than anything you’ve ever heard him say before.

“Cool.” Suna nods dumbly.

“Cool.”

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro #suna haikyuu #suna rintarou #haikyuu x reader #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #suna rintaro haikyuu #☀️.summer event 2k24 #🍓.suna

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st4rtar0t · 6 months ago

Text

Describing your love trope with your future spouse as a writer

Pick a picture

MASTERLIST ☆ PAID SERVICES

LONG POST AHEAD!

Pictures belong to their rightful owners, I only own the content of this post.

Picture 1

Arranged blind date

I stared at my reflection, the dress clinging to my frame in a way that was both flattering and unfamiliar. It had been months since I’d worn anything other than sweatpants and old t-shirts. My heart pounded as I thought about the evening ahead. What had I let Emma talk me into?

“Trust me, y/n,” she had said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You deserve someone who treats you right. This guy is perfect for you.”

I wanted to believe her. After all, Emma knew me better than anyone. She had seen me through the worst of my relationship with Adam, watched as I shrank into myself, convinced I was unworthy of love and respect. She had been my rock when I finally walked away.

Now, she was determined to help me move on, even if it meant dragging me into the world of blind dates.

“You look stunning,” Emma said, stepping into my bedroom. Her smile was warm and reassuring. “And you’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

I nodded, trying to steady my breathing. “What if he’s... I don’t know, another Adam?”

Emma shook her head firmly. “He’s not. Trust me. I’ve known him for years. He’s kind, funny, and he’s been through his own share of heartbreak. You two will understand each other.”

Taking a deep breath, I followed Emma out the door and into her car. As she drove, I gazed out the window, my mind a swirl of anxiety and hope. The city lights blurred past, a cacophony of life that felt distant and unreal.

We arrived at the restaurant, a cozy little place with warm lighting and the comforting aroma of home-cooked meals. Emma squeezed my hand. “He’s waiting at table five. Go on, I’ll be right here if you need me.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”

As I approached table five, I saw him. He was looking down at his menu, but there was something about him that immediately put me at ease. He had an air of quiet confidence, and when he looked up and our eyes met, he smiled. It was a smile that reached his eyes, genuine and warm.

“y/n?” he asked, standing up and offering his hand.

I took it, surprised by how natural it felt. “Yes. And you must be Michael.”

He nodded, his grip gentle yet reassuring. “It’s really nice to meet you. Emma’s told me a lot about you.”

I laughed nervously, taking my seat. “All good things, I hope.”

“Only the best,” he said, his eyes twinkling with kindness. “She’s very fond of you.”

As we started talking, I found myself relaxing. Michael was easy to talk to, his sense of humor lightening the mood. He shared stories about his work as a graphic designer, his passion for painting, and his dog, Max, who sounded like a real character.

“So, Emma tells me you’re quite the photographer,” he said, his tone genuinely interested.

I blushed slightly. “I dabble. It’s just a hobby, really.”

“From what I hear, you’re pretty talented,” he replied. “Maybe you could show me some of your work sometime?”

I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me that I hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’d like that.”

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was enjoying myself. Michael was attentive, respectful, and genuinely interested in what I had to say. It was a stark contrast to the indifference and criticism I had grown accustomed to with Adam.

As we said our goodbyes, Michael looked at me with a hopeful expression. “I had a great time tonight, y/n. Can we do this again sometime?”

I smiled, feeling a lightness in my heart. “I’d like that very much, Michael.”

As I walked back to Emma, who was waiting with a knowing smile, I realized something. Maybe, just maybe, I was ready to open my heart again. And maybe this time, I’d find the love and respect I truly deserved.

⁠—⁠☆

Emma hugged me as soon as I reached her. “See? Told you it would be fine.”

I hugged her back, gratitude welling up in my chest. “Thank you, Emma. For everything.”

She grinned. “That’s what friends are for.”

And for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful about the future.

Picture 2

Friends to lovers

I stood outside y/n’s apartment, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. The city was quiet tonight, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the sidewalk. I had been here countless times, but tonight felt different. Tonight, everything was about to change.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. Almost immediately, I heard her footsteps approaching. The door swung open, and there she was, her smile lighting up the entire hallway.

“Hey! Come on in,” she said, stepping aside to let me pass.

I walked in, my heart pounding in my chest. “Hey, y/n. Thanks for having me over.”

We settled on her couch, the same spot where we’d shared countless conversations, laughter, and even tears over the years. She handed me a cup of tea, her eyes sparkling with the warmth I had come to cherish.

“So, what’s up?” she asked, taking a sip of her own tea. “You sounded a bit urgent on the phone.”

I looked at her, really looked at her, and realized just how much she meant to me. Her kindness, her strength, her infectious laugh—all the little things that made her who she was. It hit me like a tidal wave. I was in love with her. I always have been.

“y/n, there’s something I need to tell you,” I began, my voice trembling slightly.

She set her cup down, her expression turning serious. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “y/n, you’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember. You’ve been there for me through everything, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smiled, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “I am your best friend. I will always be there for you no matter what happens. Now tell me, what is bothering you?”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment. “But that’s the thing. I don’t just see you as my best friend anymore. Somewhere along the way, my feelings changed. I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, there was a silence that felt like an eternity. My heart was in my throat, fear and hope battling within me.

“oh…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I pressed on, needing her to understand. “I know this might come as a shock, and I don’t want to ruin what we have. But I had to tell you. I can’t keep pretending that what I feel for you is just friendship.”

Her eyes searched mine, and I saw tears forming. Panic surged through me. Had I made a terrible mistake?

But then she smiled, a radiant, beautiful smile that took my breath away. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for so long.”

Relief washed over me like a flood. “You... you have?”

She nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I’ve loved you for years. I was just too scared to tell you. I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

I reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek. “You’ll never lose me, y/n. You’re everything to me.”

She leaned into my touch, her eyes filled with love and vulnerability. “I love you.”

The words were like music to my ears. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly. “I love you too, y/n. More than you’ll ever know.”

We sat there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the world outside fading away. All that mattered was this moment, the love we had finally confessed, and the promise of a future together.

As I held her, I realized something. Love had been right in front of me all along, in the form of my best friend. And now that I had found it, I was never letting go.

Picture 3

Opposites attract

I watched him from across the room, the way he moved with such effortless grace and confidence. The party was in full swing, laughter and chatter filling the air, but all I could focus on was Ethan. He was the epitome of extroversion, charming everyone around him with his easy smile and quick wit.

I, on the other hand, was more comfortable in the shadows, observing rather than participating. I preferred a good book to a loud party, a quiet evening at home to a night out on the town. Yet, here I was, drawn to someone who was my complete opposite in every way.

Ethan caught my eye and waved, making his way over to me. My heart skipped a beat, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling inside me.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “Why are you hiding over here all alone?”

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just taking a break from all the excitement.”

He laughed, a rich, contagious sound. “You know, you’re the only person I know who comes to a party to take a break from it.”

I smiled, feeling a little more at ease. “Well, someone has to keep an eye on things from the sidelines.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous spark I was starting to adore.

“Sure,” I said, surprised by how much I wanted him to stay.

We sat down on the edge of the patio, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the crowded house. For a moment, we just sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

“You know, Y/N,” Ethan said, breaking the silence. “I’ve always admired how you can just... be. You don’t need all this noise and attention to feel happy.”

I looked at him, surprised by his honesty. “And I’ve always admired how you can light up a room just by walking into it. You make everything look so easy.”

He smiled, a softer, more genuine smile than I’d seen before. “It’s not always as easy as it looks. Sometimes, it feels like I’m just playing a role. But with you... I feel like I can be myself.”

My heart swelled at his words. “I feel the same way, Ethan. With you, I don’t feel like I have to hide.”

We continued talking, sharing pieces of ourselves we hadn’t revealed to anyone else. I told him about my love for painting, how it was my way of expressing emotions I couldn’t put into words. He opened up about his fear of being alone, how he surrounded himself with people to avoid facing his own insecurities.

As the night wore on, I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn’t expected. Despite our differences, or maybe because of them, we fit together in a way that felt right. His outgoing nature balanced my introversion, his confidence bolstered my shyness, and his warmth melted my reservations.

Ethan reached out, taking my hand in his. His touch was gentle, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through me. “Y/N, I know we’re different, but I can’t help how I feel. Being with you makes me want to be better, to be more.”

I looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity there. “I feel the same way, Ethan. You make me feel... alive, like anything is possible.”

He leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “So, what do you say we give this a try? Us, I mean. I know it won’t always be easy, but I think it could be something amazing.”

I smiled, my heart full of hope and excitement. “I’d like that, Ethan. I’d like that a lot.”

As he pulled me into a gentle embrace, I realized that sometimes, the most unexpected connections can be the most beautiful. Despite our differences, or maybe because of them, we were falling for each other, and I couldn’t wait to see where this journey would take us.

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hazelsmirrorball · 7 months ago

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My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys | Charles Leclerc

SUMMARY: After being mia for a year, Y/n comes back better than ever ready to talk about her six year relationship, through music.

FACE CLAIM: Lola Tung

pairings: Singer! Reader x Charles Leclerc

a/n: sorry for also being mia!! i’ve been working with uni and publishing my book! i hope you guys enjoy

david.iacono via instagram

liked by logansargent, minnie.mills and 100,427 others

tagged: y/n.l/n_

david.iacono our girl is finally making a comeback!!

view all coments

…

user102 i’m sorry but she’s alive?!

user15 y/n is finally back!!

user12 omg finally!! i missed her so so much

user4579_ i’ve missed you in the paddock

minnie.mills she’s back!!!

user101 wait? our girl? what happened to charles?

-> user15 im pretty sure they broke up! she hasn’t been seen anywhere for the past year and that includes everything related to charles.

-> user278 they don’t even follow each other on instagram anymore!

y/n.l/n via insta stories. minnie.mills via insta stories.

y/n.l/n via insta

liked by charles_leclerc and 1,820,278 more.

y/n.l/n guess who’s back with great news!! if you’ve been following me for a while you would now how much i love musical theater and i’m forever thankful for giving life to eurydice in hadestown!

view all comments

…

user10 our queen is back and she’s going to broadway?! omg guys!!!!!

user78 it’s happening!!!

user57 you did it y/n!!!

user17 i feel like a proud mother, congrats!!

minnie.mills broadway is shaking in their boots!! Just wait till they hear the album!

-> user890 the album?! what album??

-> user27 omg omg omg

-> y/n.l/n thank you for spoiling the album

user19 i don’t know what’s crazier, the album announcement in the comments or charles in the likes

y/n.l/n posted a video via insta.

liked by arthur_lecler, carlossainz55 and 2,920,831 others.

y/n.l/n. decided to give you guys a preview of a song I've been writing since I was gone, hope you guys enjoy!! xoxo

view all comments

user28 no fucking way!!!

user2901 I'm going to puke

user290 we can all agree this song is about Charles, right?!?! I can't be crazy

user190 this is so crazy

user789 but what’s the name of the song?

-> y/n.l/n my boy only breaks his favorite toys

-> user17 it keeps getting worse and worse for charles

user219 if this is the preview of the album she's writing if I were Charles I would start hiding

user89 once I fix me, he's gonna miss me?!?!? she ate I fear

user19 I guess the new album is a disstrack

user55 well at least we know who arthur and carlos side with in the breakup

user26 charles pr team should get to work

y/n.l/n via insta.

liked by charles_leclerc, chrisbriney_ and 920,194 more.

y/n.l/n opening night was a hit! thank you for everyone that waited for me to heal and supported me all the way, i love you guys. good things are coming soon

view all comments

user78 you are so mega talented!! you deserve this and more

user891 the caption seems shady?

user178 oh charles what did you do

charles_leclerc congrats xoxo

-> user16 i don’t know what shocks me more, charles commenting or his xoxo

-> user89 once i fix me, he’s gonna miss me…

patriciooward via insta stories!

y/n.l/n via instagram !

liked by patriciooward, minnie.mills and 3,991.782 others

y/n.l/n all’s fair in love and poetry…new album THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT. out on friday!

view all comments

user189 omg?!? we’ve been getting so much content

user167 they could never make me hate you charles

patriciooward congrats cariño 🤍

-> user78 come again?

-> user67 pato what are you doing here?!

user78 i’m scared, if this is something about charles never proposing im going feral

user589 honestly i can’t wait until friday someone leak it!!

user67 please be ready charles

charles_leclerc 🤍

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phant0mth1ef · 6 months ago

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last part of bakugou x support course reader

it’s routine at this point, having the spikey haired boy sitting down and occasionally talking with you as you worked on your craft after school. it became something that he’d come to enjoy. and after class, despite your constantly nagging that you were safe by yourself, he walks you back to the support course dorms, claiming that you have to pass 2b’s dorm and monoma gives him weird vibes.

but bakugou arriving late to his own dorm doesn’t go unnoticed by his classmates, they watch as he walks in about three hours later than everybody else, and they also notice that kirishima is already back, so he couldn’t have been with him.

he’s also become easier to be around, hagakure stated that she was glad to not have to walk on eggshells around him anymore.

“i think he’s just trying to get in some extra training. he’s super manly.” kirishima started the conversation as they watched the blonde haired boy retreat to his room.

“i think he’s got a girlfriend!” mina exclaims with excitement, happy that someone finally got bakugou to take the stick out of his ass.

“nah, he’s way too harsh for a girl to like him. they tend to go for the sweeter dudes.” kaminari was hunched over the couch, finally putting in some input.

almost on cue, the boy walked out in a pair of sweatpants and house slippers, a calm look on his face as he sat down on the couch next to kirishima.

“bakugou?! you feeling alright?” mina spoke as she reached a hand over to feel his forehead before he swatted it away, curling up into a ball simultaneously.

“i’m fine! stop touching me.” he was like a little kid who had just been told no for the very first time.

“where’ve you been man? you always get back here super late.” kirishima turned to bakugou, who gave the man a side eye.

“none of your damn business.” he spat, although his friends knew his intentions weren’t malicious, they actually snickered at the boys defensiveness.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you’ve been spending a lot of time with the support course. you always got some new gear on everytime we have to spar.” kaminari interjected.

bakugou looked away.

“you have been with the support course! is it l/n? tell me it’s l/n, she’s like you as a girl!” mina gushed, happy for her friend.

again he didn’t meet their gaze as they watched his every action intently.

“oh my god. he’s got a crush!” kaminari begun to gush with mina, jumping up and down like schoolgirls once they uncovered their friends secret.

once bakugou whipped his head back around, the slight pink tint was evident on his cheeks.

“s’not that. she’s just not that bad to be around. s’all.” he spoke lowly.

“oh my goshhh! bakugou’s in love! someone finally matched his freak.” mina was over the moon when she uncovered this newfound information.

“when are you gonna ask her out man?” kaminari gave him a hard pat on his back, causing the unprepared boy to move forward slightly.

“i dunno. nothing. first time i’ve ever actually tolerated someone this much.” nonchalant king enery!! go and give us nothing!

“you gotta go big! she’ll love that.”

and so he spent the rest of the night listening to his friends suggestions, he really had gotten nicer since meeting you.

the support course had a mailbox for every student located in the faculty office just in case someone needed their gear tweaked and couldn’t get in contact with whoever made it.

when you checked your box, you saw only one note sitting there, so you quickly grabbed it and walked away, reading it in your head.

would you ever wanna grab some food with me? not a date. don’t think that. but i want to get to know you better.

- Great Explosion Murder God : Dynamight

you snickered at his name, in disbelief that he’d actually chosen that to be his alias for the rest of his career.

you looked up, the boy peering at you from a corner, watching your reaction.

you smiled at him.

“yes.” and he felt his breath return to his body.

#bnha bakugou #bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #myheroacademia #mha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki

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steddieas-shegoes · 3 months ago

Text

a new bottom in town

for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop up event 'anniversary'

rated e | 902 words | cw: references to injury | tags: post-vecna, established relationship, top eddie munson, bottom steve harrington, anal sex

🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃

“Can we try something new?” Steve asks as they finish eating the cheesecake Eddie brought home to celebrate their anniversary.

Six months may not seem like a lot to some, but for Steve and Eddie, it was a major milestone and they wanted to treat it as such. The first four months they spent together was mostly at the hospital while Eddie learned how to walk and talk and eat again.

“Sure, baby. What is it?” Eddie sets his fork down and leans forward so he’s in Steve’s space.

“Um. Could you…could you fuck me?”

Eddie’s heart stops.

Listen, it’s not that he doesn’t want to. If anything, he’s fantasized about doing just that for years.

But he’s still gaining muscle mass back in his legs and abs, and he doesn’t have the stamina he had before the bats took it with their teeth.

“Like…put my…”

“Yeah. I’d really…I’d like you to be inside me.”

Eddie’s not sure if he’s dreaming, but this feels like something right out of his best fantasy. He’s just a little hesitant because, well, he doesn’t want to be a disappointment. Their sex life is great as it is, and changing it up now, especially before Eddie’s back to full health, may put everything to a screeching halt.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to.” Steve continues when Eddie doesn’t answer. “I’m good with fucking you if you prefer that.”

“No! No, Stevie. I want to. Trust me.” Eddie gives a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m just not sure I can?”

Steve seems to realize what he’s worried about quickly, nodding like he understands. But after a few seconds, he’s smiling.

“I could ride you?”

Eddie’s definitely dead and somehow he got into heaven or hell is a lot nicer than people led him to believe.

“You would wanna ride my dick? Like, while I do nothing?” Eddie asks for clarification.

“I mean, I’m sure you could do something. But yeah. I could do most of the work,” Steve shrugs like this is not life-changing to Eddie.

“You want me inside of you that bad?”

“Yeah. It’s kinda all I’ve been thinking about for a while,” Steve flushes as he scoots his fork along his empty plate.

“And you think this is a gift for you?”

“It’s a gift for both of us.”

“Then let’s get upstairs, sweetheart.”

Steve’s head snaps up, his eyes bright with desire and excitement. “Really?”

“It’s not exactly a big ask of me to lay in bed and let you ride my dick, baby.”

Steve is out of the room before Eddie’s even up from his chair. Eddie laughs as he follows him, much slower, but finally able to go without the cane around the house. He doesn’t really mind it, but it’s nice to feel more independent without it for something like this.

By the time he’s in their room, Steve’s naked and pouring lube onto his fingers.

“Damn. Okay. Are we in a rush?” Eddie leans against the doorway and crosses his arms.

“I was gonna prep myself so you could watch.”

“Steve. Baby. Love of my life.” Eddie walks to the bed and sits down, crossing his legs and leaning his face in his hands. “This is the best gift you’ve ever given me. Continue.”

Steve flushes from his chest to his forehead and Eddie can’t get enough. He resists further interrupting him, though.

He watches Steve lean back against the pillows at an angle, teasing his own hole while Eddie barely bites back a moan. He’s been hard since he walked in the room and saw Steve’s bare ass in the bed, but now he can feel the urgency of needing to lose his clothes and get inside Steve.

Steve’s efficient and Eddie is definitely asking him about how he’s so good at opening himself up later, and within minutes, Steve’s begging for Eddie to lay down.

Eddie gets undressed as quickly as possible and finds a comfortable position against the headboard.

Steve straddles him, lines up his cock, and slides down before Eddie can even process what’s happening.

They moan together, long and loud.

“Fuck, is this how you feel when I’m inside you?” Steve gasps as he lifts himself and drops back down.

“Full? Hot? Tingly?” Steve nods. “Then, yes. Shit, Stevie, you’re so tight. It doesn’t hurt?”

“No, feels so good.” Steve’s head falls back as he finds a slow rhythm, still cautious as he stretches himself further.

Eddie’s hands rest on his hips, not helping, just holding.

“Wanna do this every night,” Steve groans as his pace picks up. “Forever. Can we?”

“Baby, if I wake up and this wasn’t a dream, we can do it whenever you want.”

“Touch me.” Steve demands, always so bossy even when he’s getting everything he wants. Eddie touches him because he will always do what Steve asks of him. “Fuck, faster. Yeah, like that.”

When they come less than a minute later, Steve collapses against Eddie, head on his shoulder and arms a deadweight by his sides.

“You okay?” Eddie asks as he rubs his back with one hand.

“So good.” Steve kissed his shoulder. “I’m the bottom now.”

Eddie cackles. “We can take turns.”

“80/20?”

“Okay. Let me get my strength back so I can fuck you properly and we’ll see if you still want that.”

Steve pulls back and smirks. “Where’s your cane?”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #pop up event #anniversary #top eddie munson #bottom steve harrington

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year ago

Note

hi!!! could i request pro hero!bakugo & pro hero!reader where bkgs doing an interview and they ask about relationships and his answer is “I thought you people already knew that im married”

i have no idea how to word things but i hope that was readable🙏🙏

keeping it in the family

wc: 1.6k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol, established relationship, dialogue-driven

note: RAHHH I LOVE HUSBAND BAKUGO. anyways !!! i hope you like this, i did get a little carried away when writing it so hopefully it makes sense. thank you for your ask!!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“And we’re on in five, four, three, two…give ‘em hell.” The roar of excited applause jumbles together with the late-night show’s opening theme and the screams of excited fans can still be heard even as Kirishima flashes a blinding smile to the camera.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Heroes on Heroes! We’re so glad you’re joining us tonight, seeing as this is the finale of season one!” The audience cheers with fiery passion and it makes the three heroes onstage chuckle nervously. This was going to be a long night, especially if the superfans were crying after every word they spoke. “I’m Red Riot,” he pauses while the cheering erupts once again, “and I’m joined by my fellow pros, Chargebolt and Dynamight.” You wince from your place at sidestage from the sheer wave of noise that slams into your eardrums when the latter is introduced.

“Thanks for having us tonight, man,” Denki grins. He eagerly drums the armrests of his chair, to the left of Kirishima. “I’ve been looking forward to doing one of these since I saw Deku’s a few weeks back.”

“It’s a great concept, really. I love being able to just chat with you guys and shoot the shit about hero stuff. It’s so manly.” Kirishima turns expectantly to the other hero sitting to his right, whose hot-headed nature was blatantly obvious by how he was slumped in his chair, squinting slightly at the burning spotlights and clicking cameras. You admire Kirishima’s confidence in forcing Katsuki to say something. “What about you, Bakugo? How’re you feeling tonight?”

“I’m alright,” he shrugs indifferently. Your breath catches in your throat and you can hear the Dynamight agency’s publicist put his head in his hands. “It’s been a while, so it’s good to see you guys,” he adds with unexpected fondness and you exhale in relief. His eyes meet yours for half a second and he shoots you a wink that makes your knees wobbly. “I saw that save at the bridge collapse last week, Shitty Hair. Pretty decent work.” Kirishima blinks once, twice, and then glances at Denki. Katuski’s blank look narrows into a scowl. “The hell are you looking like that for? I got shit in my teeth or something?”

“No, no. Sorry, man,” Kirishima laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting a compliment from you so early in the show.”

“Yeah, we thought we’d have to booze you up a little more to get you to be nicer,” Denki jokes and he recoils a bit when he’s struck with a molten hot glare from the hero across from him.

“Whatever you’re about to say, bro, don’t say it,” Kirishima warns and the crackles in Katsuki’s palms gradually dissipate. “But, I’m wondering too. What’s with the good mood?”

“I guess I feel like playing nice tonight,” he answers cryptically, his gaze flicking over to you again with amusement. You can almost sense the fainting girls falling over each other in the front row. Kirishima’s attention subtly darts over to you and a knowing smirk grows over his face. It was the first time you and Katsuki were at the same press event, since you both thought it was too dangerous to sneak around until now. “But, talk about that bridge save. I don’t think a lot of people know that the guy was wanted by several agencies.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Denki agrees with a quick sip of his drink. He swallows and sets the glass down with a light thud. “He’d been giving us hell for weeks. It's not really the best matchup for a sand villain to be going up against an electric hero.”

“It was the sand villain and his wife, wasn’t it? That chick with the melting Quirk?”

“Yep, they were a nasty couple to deal with,” Kirishima confirms. “I had to keep track of this guy’s damn sand spikes and his wife turning the floor to goop at the same time.”

“Goop is a weird-ass way to put it,” Katsuki points out with obvious distaste.

“Yeah, but he was a pretty goopy guy.” Chuckles ripple through the audience and you can’t help breaking a smile too at Kirishima’s joke.

“I think for me, at least,” Denki adds, “the biggest pain was the fact that they were married, and they had, like, marriage telepathy or something.”

“Bro, I thought that was just me! Here I was, thinking that I’d incapacitated one and split them from the other, when bam! Both of them appear in front of me like a damn genie.”

“You ever have to deal with villain couples, Bakubro?”

“Nah, not recently. We’ve been doing a lot of big raids on all the crime families downtown.” He flexes his right bicep and pulls back the sleeve of his shirt to show a gnarly purple spot growing on his skin. “Got this little beauty three days ago from a neo-Hassaikai asshole.” You're not fazed by the ugly shade of the wound because you were the one who stitched up the...less visible results of the raid.

“Jeez, man,” Denki says in disbelieving awe at his friend’s injury. “If you ever need backup, we’d love to do a team up with you.”

“I think I’d rather die–”

“My agency would also love to team-up with you,” Kirishima interjects before Katsuki can finish his thought. The heart rate monitor of his publicist begins to rapidly beep behind you. “We can have a threeway team-up! That’d be pretty cool, don’t you guys think?”

“What if we all just merged into one big super agency? Like a big family?”

“That sounds like the stupidest shit–” Again, Kirishima cuts off Katsuki’s brash protests and saves them from being taken off the air.

"That would be so awesome."

“Would that mean we’d have to get pro-hero partners, too? Keep hero work in the family?”

“I think Salonpas would have heart palpitations if we said we were trying to keep hero work within the family,” Katsuki points out and his friends nod in agreement. “On another fuckin’ note, that Half-and-Half idiot keeps hogging the number two spot and it pisses me off.” Though you didn’t often encounter Todoroki while you were on patrol, you knew that he was adamant about keeping work life and family life separate. It made him even more of a dedicated hero and a recent bust of a notorious crime ring bumped him into the number two spot over Dynamight for that month. You didn’t hear the end of it from Katsuki.

“He and Deku just work really efficiently, Bakubro.”

“I can efficiently slam both their skulls into a–”

“You know what would solve that problem?” Denki butts in unceremoniously, covering up his harsh words for a third time. Katsuki grunts in response and the lightning-decorated hero gives him enthusiastic finger-guns. “Combining and making a family agency.”

“What are the chances that Sero would want to join too?”

“Probably pretty high,” Kirishima guesses. “He’s at my place every other week, anyway, so he’s basically my brother.”

“Alright, maybe this could actually work, then. I just need to find a smoking hot hero wife.”

“That’ll probably be the hardest part, buddy–”

“What about Bakugo?” You stiffen and the three guys turn their attention to a voice calling out from the audience. Speaking during the interviews was strictly prohibited until the question and answer section, but getting Katsuki’s attention was a surefire way to derail the entire episode.

“The fuck do you mean, what about Bakugo? Who the fuck said that?”

"Dude, just ignore them."

“Can’t be a family agency if Bakugo never gets into relationships,” the same nasally, irritating voice argues and your face feels like it’s been set on fire. Kirishima’s attention jumps to you for a moment and then back to his friend, whose palms are starting to spark like fireworks. “Do you just get no bitches, or something?” The audience gasps and security finally arrives to escort the disturbance out of the building. The director is ready to stop the cameras and jump to a commercial break, but Katsuki speaks before he can order the sound crew to cut the mics. To everyone’s surprise, his voice is nothing but amusement, like the insinuation didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“You think I don’t get into relationships?”

“Bakugo…”

“It’s alright, Pikachu. I really don’t give a shit about whatever that guy said,” Katsuki reassures his friend with a sly glint in his eye. His friends watch him warily, like a grenade on the verge of exploding. Once again, burning red eyes meet yours with a single question that you answer with a resolute nod. “I’m not gonna blow up, so stop looking like that. Really, I don’t care.”

“Why not?” A tense beat of silence passes, then–

“I thought you people knew that I’m married.” A shit-eating grin spreads across your husband’s face as gasps of shock burst from the audience. Kirishima and Denki both shake their heads in exasperation. They knew already, of course, but they didn’t expect him to reveal his relationship status as a result of a heckler. “Yep, going on a year and a half, now. Around five years together total coming this winter.” More collective cries of jealousy, surprise, and betrayal shake the building’s foundation. "If you don't believe me, ask these guys."

"Yeah, we were at the wedding, too. It's hard to keep it a secret when all of your friends are also high-profile heroes."

“Can you guys believe that he fell in love during the winter?” Denki’s thumb juts out toward his friend, who frowns at the mere mention of cold weather.

“I fucking hate the winter,” he grumbles.

“We know, man,” Kirishima says sympathetically, unsuccessfully hiding a chuckle. “You’ve been saying that since high school.”

“Yeah, and shit hasn’t changed,” Katsuki bites back with lighthearted indignance. “Look, they saved my ass when it was cold; how was I not supposed to fall in love with them?” To your delight, his complexion has turned a slightly darker shade of pink. “Yeah, I love them. What about it, asshats?”

“Is this a bad time to bring up the family agency again?”

“Let’s go to commercial before I blow this fucking chair to pieces.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #ask iris!

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tkwrites · 20 days ago

Text

Meet Me At The Mistletoe - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Video from @fallinallincurls

Title: Meet Me at the Mistletoe

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: Based on the song of the same name by Dave Barnes, Quinn and Sarah prepare for and host a team Christmas Party, including shopping on a very special but inconvenient day.

Warnings: Grief. Talk of dead parents and honoring traditions. Some sex is alluded to, but nothing described. A tiny bit of praise kink stroking.

Word Count: 8,000

Comments: I'm back with my first ever Christmas fic! I’ve been waiting to write a song based on Meet Me at the Mistletoe by Dave Barnes since I first heard it three or four years ago. It has such a great story and evokes a specific feeling I felt like Quinn and Sarah were especially suited for. When Cici from @thedevilrisen reached out to me about joining a Christmas fic event called Ho Ho Hockey, I knew this had to be the story I wrote for it.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. Sending all the love your way!

Meet Me at the Mistletoe

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“Will you help me plan a Christmas party?” Quinn blurted, trying to catch his breath.

“Hu?” Sarah asked, struggling to keep up with the abrupt change of subject.

Upon getting home from work, she’d practically jumped him in the kitchen. They’d made it as far as the lucky couch before desire consumed them both. He’d been on a roadie for the past few days, and though he got back the evening before, she’d been asleep when he arrived, so they weren’t able to welcome each other home properly.

Now, she lay beside him, wedged between the back of the couch - cushions had been tossed aside in their frenzy - and his body, feeling sated and satisfied as her head rested on his chest.

“I have to plan a Christmas party for the team,” he explained, knowing he couldn’t put it off anymore. Even though they still had a few months, he knew she would appreciate the advanced warning and that it would only make it easier if they started now.

“Why do you have to do it? I’d think that would be something the coaching staff would do.”

“It’s for players only. We have another one with coaches and staff. It's kind of tradition for the captain to plan it.”

Her lips pressed together, “I don’t know how much time I can dedicate to party planning in December. That’ll be right around finals.” She didn’t have as many traditional classes this semester, but there was still plenty to do.

“That’s why I’m bringing it up now, and it doesn’t have to be huge,” he rushed to explain. “Last year, JT and Natalie just had people over for drinks, and we did a gift exchange.”

“You want to have it here?”

“I thought it would be nice.” Now that Sarah was here, the apartment felt more homey and like the kind of place he wanted to show off.

“So cocktails and gifts?”

“Yeah, or whatever we want it to be. I think they had some food last year.”

“Okay,” she said.

“So you can help me?” Quinn asked.

“Yeah. I don’t know that I’ll have time to go to tastings or anything like that.”

“Tastings?”

“For food?”

He laughed, “I figured we’d just order from De Beppe and set up a cocktail bar.”

“Oh,” it seemed like he didn’t even need her help. “That sounds nice and easy.”

His hand snuck down to cradle the curve of her bottom, “you know I don’t like to make things overly complicated.”

“It’s just for adults?” she confirmed.

“It was last year,” he said. “Why? Do you want kids to come?”

She shrugged, “not necessarily. Just if they do, we’ll need to host it somewhere else. Our house isn’t really kid proofed.”

When he didn’t respond, she glanced up to find him looking at her with a goofy smile on his face.

“What?”

“You said our house.”

“Hu?”

“You said our house,” he repeated. “Before you’ve always said your house,” he pointed to himself, “or the house.”

“Oh.”

Slipping his arms around her waist, he pulled her a little tighter against him, loving the feel of her soft curls as they crushed against his hip. “I’m just glad you’re feeling more at home.”

A pocket of calm silence enveloped them.

“We’ll need to decorate,” Sarah said after a few minutes.

Quinn agreed. When he thought about hosting the party, the house was always decorated for Christmas, but he’d never thought about what it would take to get it into that state.

“We can figure that out later,” she murmured, laying her head back on his chest, allowing his steady heartbeat to lull her into the state of calm that always came over her when he was home.

They spent another hour there, snuggled up together, only moving when Quinn went fishing for a blanket and had to lean halfway off the couch to get it.

They didn’t get up until Sarah’s stomach grumbled loudly.

“Did you eat today?” Quinn asked, his tone accusing.

“I had a smoothie for breakfast.”

“Sarah,” he admonished. She never ate as well when he wasn’t home. Not just in quality, in quantity.

“I know,” she said, looking down sheepishly. “I even had a salad in the fridge at work, I just got so caught up in stuff. I did eat a protein bar on my way home,” she remembered.

Deciding he’d tackle the issue of her nutrition later, Quinn traced his fingers up the curve of her spine. “What should we have for dinner tonight?” he asked as he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable exit from their cozy cocoon.

She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “I don’t care. Just feed me.”

He laughed. “You got it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Why don’t you go get changed, and I’ll scrounge up something for us to eat.”

Are you free November 9th?

When Quinn sent this message, she didn’t think anything of it. They were both so busy that it was normal to schedule things three weeks in advance.

Yep, what's up that day?

Just wanna take you on a date before the game.

The purposeful vagueness and his wanting to do something on a game day raised her eyebrows. Game days were usually reserved for napping and chill time at home before he had to go to the rink.

Okay. It's in my calendar.

He hearted the message, and Sarah went back to work.

Pick you up at 11 out front, okay?

Though it was a Saturday, and she was off, Quinn knew Sarah would be working on her thesis and he needed to catch her before she got too absorbed by it, no longer concerned with looking at her phone.

For what?

We have a date, remember?

Oh, right. She’d mostly forgotten about the whole exchange, despite looking in her planner that morning and finding (heart) Date (heart) written in the sparkly blue ink she used to denote all things Quinn related.

What should I wear?

Usually, when he called something a date, it meant dinner out, but this was the middle of the day, and she knew it wouldn’t last terribly long.

Whatever - jeans are fine.

Now, she was really intrigued. Okay. See you then.

Wondering what on earth he had planned in the middle of the day on a Saturday, on a Saturday game day, no less, Sarah went back to her studies. It was hard to focus, though. Quinn was definitely up to something. They were even playing the Oilers that evening. Something fishy was definitely going on.

All the same, at 10:30, she changed out of her pajamas, pulled half of her hair up, and put on some makeup before walking down to the lobby.

Quinn was right on time, parked right in front of the front door.

“Thanks, Reece,” she said as he held the door open for her.

“Have a good day, Ms. Roberts,” he said with a nod.

She slid into the seat of Quinn’s posh new car. She’d learned by now that most players leased a new car at the beginning of every season. Instead of the Jeep, Quinn now had a sleek and luxurious new Porsche SUV. Most of her hated that it was so expensive when there were perfectly good, reliable options that were half the price. Each time she got in it, though, she had to admit: it was extremely comfortable, and the features really were something else. She found a small measure of comfort that at least it wasn’t some ridiculous sports car.

“So, where are we headed?” she asked as he pulled back into traffic.

“You’ll see,” he said with a little smile as he reached across the console for her hand.

Although he had a destination programmed into the car's GPS, she wasn’t entirely sure how the thing worked and didn’t want to accidentally get them off course by fiddling with it.

They went out of the city, which surprised her. He was bothering to take her to Richmond when they had to get back in time for the game? Not that the 30 minute drive was outrageous, but it seemed a luxury to her when they didn’t have all that much time to begin with.

“We needed to come all the way out to Richmond to go to Costco?”

“It’s the second Saturday of the month,” he said quietly, “and this one's bigger than the one by home. I’m sorry we couldn’t go tonight.”

“Oh,” her breath hitched as his intention settled on her. She’d stopped mentally marking second Saturdays about a year after her dad died, so she hadn’t even known.

The hiss of his seatbelt retracting brought Sarah out of her daze, and she reached for him before he could get out of the car.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling both a swell of gratitude as well as a tightening in her chest.

He beamed, glad he’d pulled it off. “I’ve been trying to get here, but you were so busy with the start of the semester, and then I was out of town…” he trailed off.

“This is really sweet, Quinn.” Holding his chin, she leaned over the center console to press her lips to his.

He’d wanted to set up this date since she’d told him about her family’s monthly Costco adventures. “Ready?” he asked, nodding toward the store.

She took a deep breath, letting it sigh out before nodding, “yeah.”

When she rounded the car and he took her hand, she tried to blink the tears from her eyes.

“I haven’t been back here,” she said quietly, wanting to explain, just in case she burst into tears. That hadn’t happened for a while, but she could never quite rule it out, especially now that the ache of doing this with him, but without her dad, was freshly torn open. That, mixed with the gratitude she felt at his want to do this for her, especially on a game day, brought up a swirl of so many emotions. Quinn was so incredibly thoughtful.

He stopped in his tracks, “is this your first time back since your dad died?” he asked.

“No, I went with mom whenever she or I was visiting, and we all go whenever I’m in town,” she said, “I just don’t think I’ve been without my siblings since she died.”

“Are you okay? We don’t have to go.” He was such an idiot. He should have asked her about it instead of just springing this on her.

“No, I want to go,” she assured, giving his hand a squeeze. “It just makes me a little nostalgic, that’s all.”

Before they got to the doors. She tugged him back, “this is really thoughtful, Q.” Why hadn’t she said it before? “Thank you. I feel really cared for.”

The big, genuine smile that took over his face made her heart swell.

“So what are we looking for?” she asked, grabbing a cart and following him inside.

“I kind of thought…” he trailed off, lifting the cap off his head, trying to smooth his hair down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mother turn her pointing little girl away.

“Hm?”

“I thought we could get some Christmas decorations. Like, obviously, we need a tree, but I didn’t know if you wanted a real one, or…” he trailed off.

“Isn’t it a little early to be decorating for Christmas? I figured you were a strictly after Thanksgiving kinda guy.”

He laughed, “I mean, I am, but this was the only second Saturday I’m in town before January, so I figured we could shop and then decorate later.”

A smile beamed over her face, and a sigh unknotted some of the anxiety coiling in his chest. They’d talked, well argued, a little about Christmas. He wanted her to come to Michigan with his family, but it was her siblings' year to be together, so she wanted them to go to Nevada. He was just about ready to fly everyone to Vancouver. It was their first Christmas together. He didn’t want to spend it apart, but he didn’t want either of them to miss out on time with their families.

“I’ve never had a real tree,” she mused.

“Really?”

“My mom always said she hated the mess.” She paused for a moment, remembering, “well, I guess that’s not quite true. Trav and Trev had a real tree the year I lived with them, but it wasn't really my thing. I went back to Nevada in mid-December, so I didn’t help decorate or anything.”

“Okay, so we’ll get a real tree,” he agreed, glad to have that sorted. “You should get to experience it at least once.”

“Okay,” she agreed, a light coming into her face he usually associated with her while she was talking about her research.

The smile Quinn gave her in response - large and happy and indulgent - made her stomach flutter.

“What do you think the theme should be?” she asked.

“Hu?”

“The theme,” she repeated, “like red, or blue or, like, snow?”

“I don’t…know?”

“Is there anything you really like?”

“I hate the flocking,” he said.

“Not what I asked, but still helpful,” she said with a cheeky smile and a wink.

Quinn felt himself blush. “I don’t know…I feel like I’m bad at this kind of stuff.”

“What kind of stuff,” she asked, guiding them to the decor aisles.

“Decorating and stuff.”

She pshawed, waving her hand, “my mom always said if you like what you come up with, design is never bad. It might not be someone else's taste or style, but it’s not their house.”

Right, her mom was an interior designer.

“What do you like?” he asked, stopping to look at a display of dancing elves. They were sort of horrifyingly kitschy, but he couldn’t look away.

“I like classic things. Like red and green, or blue and white. Or, one year, my mom did this really pretty floral design. That doesn’t really match our vibe, though.”

“Did she design a new tree every year?”

“Sometimes. It all depended on what set her off. She’d sometimes find something like a tartan ribbon, and she’d spin a whole design off of that. We had another little tree in our basement that all of our homemade ornaments went on. We always put presents under that one.”

“Do you want two?”

“Trees?”

“Yeah, one upstairs and one downstairs.”

“Do you?”

He shrugged. “We could put one by the lucky couch.”

The lucky couch being the suede couch. She’d jokingly called it that after their escapades when the Canucks clinched into the playoffs, “I feel like all I do on this couch is get lucky,” and the name had stuck.

“Do you want that?” she asked now, looking at him seriously.

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine what that would be like. Ultimately, he shrugged, “wouldn’t hurt.”

She laughed a little. “How about we sort the theme first?”

He nodded, glad that she had some kind of a plan.

“Why don’t we split up for a minute? We’ll each find a few things we like, and hopefully, a theme will come out of that.” It was something her mom often did when working with clients. It brought out shared styles.

“Okay.”

Sarah wandered off with the cart, heart so full she felt like it might just push into her mouth.

After five minutes, when Quinn didn't come back, she went looking for him. She found him on one of the fringe aisles, locked in a conversation with a star struck fan.

He glanced up when she rounded the corner.

When it became obvious that the person currently holding his attention wouldn't let up anytime soon, he waited for them to finish their thought about the upcoming game and then started to excuse himself. “It was nice talking with you, but I need to be going.”

“Oh,” the guy seemed to remember they were standing in Costco, “of course. Thanks for chatting, man.”

They shook hands, and Quinn stepped around him to join up with Sarah.

“Did you find anything, or did you immediately get bombarded?”

The smile he sent her way was indulgent. “I got a bit of a look.” Taking the other end of the cart, he pulled her down one of the decor aisles and pointed out some different shaped gold glass ornaments.

“I liked those, too, but I liked the silver better.”

“We could get both,” Quinn suggested, lifting a box of each color into the cart.

“You want to go metallic?”

One side of his mouth twisted.

“So, no,” Sarah laughed. “What do you think instead?”

“I don’t know. I just think only metallic is kind of weird.”

“Okay,” Sarah turned to another section of baubles and started putting them between the silver and gold.

They discussed the combinations but couldn’t agree on what colors looked better together.

“Why don’t we just do two trees,” Quinn suggested after having the same circular conversation twice.

Sarah agreed, glad he brought it up again.

“Do you want two live ones?”

“I think we should get one fake one. I’m already a little worried I’m going to forget to water the one.”

“Do we have to water it?”

“I’d imagine so. It’s a living plant, isn’t it?”

He’d never thought about it. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Didn’t you have real trees growing up?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, before sheepishly adding on, “but my mom did all of that.”

Just as he expected, Sarah snorted. “I can’t believe your dad made your mom take care of something for a holiday she doesn’t even celebrate.”

“She celebrated Christmas,” Quinn argued. “It’s not like she was against it or something.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

He smiled indulgently at her.

They spent another hour wandering around Costco, deciding what to buy. Sarah tried not to wince at the price when it totaled on the checking screen. It was their first year, after all. These things would always be basics they could use over and over again.

After loading it in the back of his car and starting for home, Sarah spoke again. “Quinn?”

He glanced at her, worry etched onto his face.

“I just wanted to say thank you again,” she assured, reaching for his hand. “This was so thoughtful and kind.”

A smile spread over his face, “you don’t need to thank me, Sarah. “I like when I can do something special for you.”

It wasn’t a strange thing to her anymore, to be with such a caring partner, who not only remembered things about her, but put them to use. Just the other day, he’d brought a set of playing cards home from Seattle after she mentioned wanting to use some different ones in her research with Walter.

Quinn let her pull his hand into her lap, glad that he’d pulled this off and that she’d enjoyed it so much.

When the day of the party arrived, Sarah was feeling remarkably calm.

While they were planning, she felt the weight of hosting the team as the Captain’s girlfriend like a physical thing she had to uphold. Not only did she want everyone to have a good time, she felt it was partially her responsibility to represent Quinn well. Not that he couldn’t do that on his own. He could. It just felt like another mantle she had to uphold and worried she would somehow fail or let him down.

After sharing these fears with her therapist, she helped her to remember that while her fears were understandable, there wasn’t really any basis for them. She’d already spent time with the team with the title of the captain’s girlfriend. The only difference now, as Jenny pointed out, was that she and Quinn were living together. “Which,” Jenny told her, “really only solidifies your relationship. If the team had any issues with Quinn dating you, they would have brought them up a long time ago.”

Now, as she got ready, hosting their first party together felt like a cementing step in their relationship. It felt a bit like something out of a fairy tale.

Pulling at the skirt of her dress until it fell the way it was meant to, she smoothed her hands over her hips as she smiled. It’d been a ridiculously long process to find the right dress, but now that she was on the other side of it, the final result was well worth work.

After going shopping with Bella and Katelyn, she came home empty handed. Everything they'd found was too…much. Too frilly, or too plain. Nothing fit correctly, or it didn’t cover what she wanted covered or didn’t flatter her body. She didn’t even have an image in her head of what she wanted to wear (she rarely did), but nothing they found felt right.

She’d be lying if she didn’t acknowledge that dress hunting had, at least partially, been so hard because she felt more than a little frumpy and even a little bit fat standing next to both beautiful women. Not that either of them did anything to make her feel that way. They were kind and nice, and two of her best friends among the wives and girlfriends. Still, anytime she tried on a dress, on top of it not being right, when she stood next to them, her eyes were automatically drawn to her hips and stomach, which were so much rounder than either of theirs.

Generally, body image didn’t bother her - she knew she was attractive and knew Quinn found her attractive. Even knowing that, she had a hard time turning off that comparison part of her brain when seeing herself reflected back next to the two thin women she was with.

So, while both of them walked away with beautiful party dresses, Katelyn in a short, delicately sewn green frock, and Bella in a sparkly blue sweeping number, Sarah was forced to go hunting for the perfect dress online. Knowing she was running out of time, she bought fourteen, figuring she would return what she didn’t like.

Of course, it was the last one - which arrived only a week before the party - that finally sang to her. Even Quinn commented on it when he saw it hanging in the closet, telling her, “I like this one.”

“Yeah?”

He’d nodded, offered her a cheeky smile as he said, “I can't wait to see what it looks like on you.”

At the time, she’d laughed and shaken her head, but with the way he was looking at her now, she knew he hadn’t been lying.

“Wow,” Quinn said, eyes scanning up and down her body when Sarah walked out of the walk-in closet.

The sparkly fabric cradled her curves as if it had been made for her. He especially liked the way it just barely cupped her ass before billowing down to the floor. He’d never seen her in something so fancy - they’d never had the occasion to dress up like this.

Thoughts of past prom and formal dates skipped through his mind, and he decided she was the prettiest date he’d ever had. Especially with the way the dark red color turned her eyes a stormy blue.

She gave him a teasing, little smile, “you like it?”

Scoffing, he gave up fighting the impulse to grasp her hips. The fabric was smooth and surprisingly soft under his palms. He’d expected the tinsel-y shine to be scratchy. Whoever made it knew what they were doing.

“I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you all night,” he said as his eyes drank in her figure one more time.

Slipping her arms around his neck, she gave him a seductive smile and a wink, “lucky for you, I think we could arrange for you to take me home tonight.”

“Really?” he teased, one hand sliding around to cradle that curve of her butt he’d been admiring earlier.

“Play your cards right, and I think you just might.”

“I might have to corner you under the mistletoe before then.”

“I thought you hated mistletoe,” she said, rolling her eyes. He'd been mildly horrified when he found she'd hung two sprigs of it in the apartment – one in the front hall and one in the doorway to the kitchen.

“I don’t know that I’d hate it with you,” he said, voice soft as he caressed her hips again. “I hated when people would try to corral me under it with some girl they wanted me to date,” he explained. “If it means I get to kiss you, I’m going to take advantage every time I can.”

Thinking of past Christmases and failed mistletoe attempts, Quinn was so struck by her. His life from a year ago had been turned totally upside down. All in good ways, but it was still startling to glance back at how lonely he was last Christmas in comparison to the joy, love, and contentment he felt this year.

“You’re going to be the prettiest girl here,” he said, unable to stop himself from looking her over again.

Though she smiled, she snorted and rolled her eyes.

“You will be,” he insisted, pulling her against him. He couldn’t fight not touching her more.

Deciding she was too tired to push back against his compliments, Sarah leaned in to press her lips to his. With her heels on, he was just an inch taller than she was. Kissing Quinn was never difficult, but she did enjoy the easier access their closer heights allowed for.

He mumbled a noise, his other hand coming up to cup the back of her head to intensify the kiss.

As she broke away, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “are you not wearing any underwear?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “What?” she asked, a laugh splitting her mouth into a natural, pretty smile.

“I can’t feel anything,” he explained, running his palm over her bum again.

“Strictly speaking? No.”

His eyes grew round with shock.

“But I have shape wear on, so it’s kind of worse. Harder to get off.”

An almost relieved smile crossed his face.

“Why?”

“I just…I was gonna have a real hard time tonight if you weren’t wearing anything under this dress,” he admitted as his palm slid up the curve of her body.

“I don’t think I could face a party with your teammates without any underwear on.”

“Too bad,” he tsked, “then I really wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you all night.”

“Be a good boy,” she admonished, moving his fingers from where they were sneaking under the straps.

Licking his lips, Quinn looked into her face, his expression eager.

She held his gaze, letting the tension build between them.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, vibrating against her leg. He didn’t look away.

“That’ll be the food,” she said, breaking the spell. “You better go grab it.”

“Yeah.” Shaking his head gently, Quinn reminded himself they were heading into a party and now was not the time for him to start fantasizing. “I’ll be right back.”

“Those pants still look super hot on you!” she called, following him.

A few weeks before, she’d first told him she liked them by sending him a Canucks Instagram story that showed him walking through the arena parking garage, along with the message, got me drooling over your thighs in this suit. The gray fabric was cut close, making his legs look deliciously thick and muscled.

His laughter echoed off the windows as he jogged down the stairs. “I’m wearing them just for you!” he called back before the front door shut.

Making her way down to the kitchen, Sarah surveyed the apartment on the way. They had decided to put the second tree next to the lucky couch, which only served to make the spot more romantic. Since it’d gone up, they’d spent at least one night a week curled up together reading by it’s light. It was decorated in silver and green, while the larger, fresh tree was decorated in classic red and gold, including some geometric diamonds her mom used in their last family tree. Sarah had asked her sister, Rachel, if she could send them to her. It was nice, having that little part of her mom in the house at a time they both loved so much, nice to see pieces of Quinn mixed in with everything.

Other than the trees, there were no other holiday decorations besides a Christmas Village that had belonged to her dad, which was set up on the sideboard in the living room.

An hour later, almost everyone was there, dressed in their holiday finery.

Quinn had an incredibly soft, dark green cashmere sweater on over top of a white dress shirt. He’d almost worn the bomb cufflinks Sarah had given him, but at the last minute, he decided it would be more practical if he rolled his sleeves up.

The way Sarah’s eyes lingered on his forearms when he had told him he made the right choice.

Sarah had insisted the men needed to wear slacks, “if the women are putting on dresses, it’s the least you can do. No dude gets to show up in jeans when women have to wear shape wear.”

He said he saw her point and dropped the bad news on the boys the following day.

“Oh my God!” Bella gushed, walking into the house. “It looks gorgeous in here!”

“Thank you. It was really fun to decorate together for the first time.”

“Huggy helped with this?” Brock asked dubiously, walking up and slipping an arm around Bella’s waist. Sarah swore they both could wear head to toe hunting orange and still be the most beautiful couple she’d ever seen. Seeing them dressed for the season was like looking into a catalog, two perfect people in exactly the perfect clothes, matched to perfection. If they stood by the tree, she was pretty sure she could submit the picture to any department store in the world, and they’d put them in an ad without question. It was quite stunning, really.

“He did,” Sarah said, beaming. “We decided on the theme together and got decorations, and we put up the trees before you guys left over Thanksgiving.”

“Brock never helps with stuff like that,” Bella teased.

“I offered!” Brock corrected. “She said she doesn't trust my taste,” he told Sarah conspiratorially before dropping a kiss to Bella’s cheek and announcing, “I’m going to get us drinks.”

“Oh my god,” Bella exclaimed once he was gone, “where did you find this dress? It’s, like, perfect!”

“Its from this Australian company called Blackmilk. It was the last one to arrive,” Sarah said with a roll of her eyes, “of course.”

“Well, it was worth the wait. You look killer. Your ass looks insane.”

Sarah laughed, “the spanx have a lot to do with that.”

Bella shook her head, “no. You have a great ass. I wish I had curves like yours.”

Glancing down at herself, then at Bella’s petite frame, Sarah wondered who it served for women to be pitted against each other this way. The beauty industry, probably. Whoever invented spanx.

“That's sweet, thank you.”

Bella hooked her arm through Sarah's and demanded a tour of the apartment with everything decorated.

Watching from across the living room as Sarah opened the door, looking comfortable and every part the hostess, Quinn smiled, glad to see her feeling so at home.

He was only a little surprised to see the Millers on the other side of the door. He’d invited them, but didn’t hear anything back.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Sarah gushed, accepting the box of chocolates Natalie offered, before wrapping her in a hug.

There had been some debate whether or not the Millers would be able to attend - it was their first team function in quite a while - but Sarah was extremely glad they were here. It wouldn’t feel like a team party without them.

“Come in, come in. We have cocktails and mocktails and lots of food,” she said, turning to embrace JT.

He smiled, uncharacteristically quiet.

Natalie stayed by Sarah’s side as he wandered into the party, getting progressively louder as he bro-hugged and took some ribbing from his teammates, jibing them in turn as if no time had passed.“Thank you for not making a big deal of this,” she said.

Sarah shrugged, “I’m just glad you’re here.”

The other woman gave her a watery smile, and Sarah took her arm to pull her into the house, “what can I get you to drink?”

The one thing Quinn hadn’t counted on when planning this party was how much he’d be separated from her. When they attended parties in the past, they were often together, or at least not apart for long. Now, with the role of hosts, they had people to talk to and drinks to refresh, and it felt like everything was pulling them away from each other, rather than closer together.

As the night went on, even though they were still separated, Quinn found he always seemed to know where Sarah was. Not just from her laugh, which he did hear in abundance, or from glimpsing light glinting off her sparkly dress, which occasionally flashed in the corners of his vision. No, it was that same magnetic force that pulled him to her the first time he saw her, still in full effect.

He was talking with Conor when he felt that longing hook in his navel, nudging him in her direction.

When he looked up, however, he couldn’t see her. It only took a moment for her to reappear, walking from the kitchen, smiling at something Meghan was showing her on her phone. Probably photos of Quint, he guessed. She had a new bottle of Perrier in one hand and a bowl of ice in the other.

As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up.

Once their eyes met, their connection followed suit, snapping into alignment as they held each other's gaze. He was on the other side of the apartment, in the living room, but for a brief moment, it seemed everyone else fell 6 they were alone in the house again.

She winked, and a ridiculous, cheesy smile took over his whole face.

They’d taken pictures in front of the Christmas tree at the beginning of the night as soon as Elias and Katelyn had arrived and could hold the camera. Sarah wanted to send them to her family. He’d smiled when the photo had popped up in the chat she had with his family. His mom had almost immediately hearted the photo and gushed over how beautiful Sarah looked in her dress.

You look nice too, Quinn, Luke had quipped.

That had been the last time he had his hands on her, and watching her chat with Meghan as she tipped fresh ice into the metal bucket, he was itching to touch her again.

“So, what did you think of that video session today?” Conor asked.

“Hu?” Quinn murmured, unable to tear his eyes from Sarah as she started to laugh.

Conor followed his sightline. “Oh god, you’re hopeless,” he murmured. “Go get your fix, then come talk to me,” he said, tone only half joking as he pushed Quinn’s shoulder in the direction of the kitchen.

“Can I borrow her for a minute?” Quinn asked, throwing a smile in Meghan's direction as he walked up to them.

Not waiting for an answer, he took the bowl from Sarah's hand, setting it on the bar cart and leading her back in the direction of the kitchen by a loose grip on her upper arm.

“Quinn, what's wrong?” she asked, glancing back to make sure Meghan didn't feel abandoned. Thankfully, Natalie had taken her place in the conversation.

“Nothing wrong,” he said, stopping to lean in the kitchen doorway.

One of her eyebrows raised, “you just needed to come hang out in the kitchen?”

A snort of laughter escaped his mouth before he pointed up. Sarah followed his finger to the little sprig of fake mistletoe she’d hung there. “I thought you were joking,” she said, her eyes coming back to his face.

“About this dress?” he asked, slipping his hands over her hips and around to hold her bum. “Or about wanting to kiss you under the mistletoe?”

She glanced back to the party, hoping no one caught Quinn groping her so openly. “I don't know. About the cornering bit, I guess.”

A smile crept over his face, “how else was I supposed to guarantee we'd end up here together?”

Sarah tried to roll her eyes but ended up smiling instead. It was nice to feel so wanted.

“I missed you,” he said, nudging her to step toward him by tightening his hands.

“Quinn, people can see,” she admonished, even as she moved closer.

“So?”

“So you have your hands all over my ass in plain sight.”

“I don’t think anyone would blame me for wanting to touch you in this dress,” he said.

A thrill spiked in her chest. She’d never had this much pull over a man. “And what were you hoping for under this mistletoe?” she asked.

“Just need a minute to tide me over until the party ends,” he murmured, leaning in.

His lips brushed over hers.

Deciding she didn’t care if people saw, Sarah sighed into him. Everyone knew they were dating, after all. More than dating - they were living together. They were throwing a party together. No one would be shocked to see them under the mistletoe.

Allowing herself to sink into the kiss, she opened her mouth and welcomed the sweet, tangy taste of his tongue. He must have just drunk some of the cranberry punch she made.

A contented noise escaped his mouth, and Quinn leaned a little closer, savoring the hint of chocolate liqueur in her mouth.

The knowledge that his entire team and their partners were in the house caught up to him, and Quinn pulled back. He didn’t really want to, but he also didn’t want the ribbing that would surely come his way if it went any farther.

He just needed to make it to that evening anyway.

Pursing his lips together, he met her eyes.

Her smile told him she was looking just as forward to the end of the party as he was.

The anticipation of it spiked in his stomach, making him feel giddy.

The laughter and drinks kept flowing long after the gift exchange wound down.

In an effort to do something different from the year before, they’d proposed a white elephant type exchange, but each gift had to be worth at least 100 dollars and something nice, not jokey.

The most fought over gifts were a bottle of imported Irish Whiskey Dakota brought and a diamond necklace Sarah had found in a vintage shop along her regular route home.

Quinn ended up with a pair of tickets to a cooking class with a local chef, while Sarah ended up with a ridiculously soft cashmere scarf.

Though Sarah expected that everyone, with their rigorous travel schedules, would want to get home as soon as possible, it seemed they all were savoring the time together without their kids and without the pressure of practice or a game.

It was nice to see all the guys casual and carefree in a way that didn’t happen very often. She rarely saw the whole team so relaxed together.

When it became evident that everyone would be staying much later than anticipated, Sarah started to readjust her expectations for the evening. The way things were going, they’d be too tired to do anything but do a quick clean of the apartment and flop into bed when the night wound down.

Quinn was chatting with Lankinen in the kitchen, looking so effortlessly handsome in his sweater and slacks. Those slacks really should be a crime. his thighs looked good enough to bite. And then he’d gone and rolled up his sleeves. He had strong wrists and forearms, and when he wore shirts like this, she always felt a strange surge of attraction to them.

As she continued to stare, just as she expected would happen, he looked up to meet her gaze.

She gave a subtle head tilt toward the entry hall and raised her eyebrows.

A smile crept over his face, and he nodded.

Trying to be casual, she made her way to the front door. She’d hung mistletoe in the entryway, imagining kissing each other hello and goodbye at the door, even though that rarely happened in their everyday life.

By the time Quinn was able to make his excuses and follow Sarah to the front door, she’d been there for several minutes, He found her leaning against the wall, with her head tilted back, seemingly savoring the time alone.

He was just wondering if he should leave and come back when she glanced over.

A smile immediately spread over her face, and she straightened.

“You okay?” he asked, closing the distance between them.

“Yeah.” Her voice was quiet, just for him.

Slipping her arms around his neck, she met his eyes. Even in the dim, entryway light, she could see how the color of his sweater brought out the green in his eyes, making them a mottled, foresty color.

“You should wear green more often.”

The left corner of his mouth tipped up. “I should?”

“Yeah.” Her fingers wove themselves into the curls at the base of his skull. “It brings out the color in your eyes.”

He fluttered his lashes, and she giggled. “Can you just learn to take a compliment?”

A blush flashed over his cheeks.

“You’re just really handsome,” she said, almost as if it was a confession.

Quinn resisted the urge to deflect the compliment and busied himself with running his hands over the smooth fabric of her dress. “You should wear this all the time.”

“All the time?” she repeated.

He nodded.

“Even at the aquarium?”

A laugh chuffed out of his mouth. “Okay, maybe not all the time,” he continued before she could cut in, “you just look really beautiful in it.”

She knew how Quinn felt about this dress, he’d made that abundantly clear throughout the night - checking her out each time she entered the room and with his little stunt in the kitchen - but hearing the sincerity in his voice now made it burrow home with a bit more force.

It was her turn to blush.

“You’re doing okay?” he asked. “I can start telling people they need to leave.”

She shook her head, “You don’t need to do that. I’m having fun. Just wanted you to myself for a minute.”

Quinn felt a ridiculously big smile spread over his face. “Always happy to do that,” he said, leaning closer.

As their mouths melted together, Sarah thought she heard shushing but pushed the whispers out of her mind, relishing the stolen moment alone.

She didn’t think about it for the rest of the night, which lasted well into the next morning. By the time everyone left, after Natalie and JT stayed late to help them clean up, it was past two.

Glancing at her phone for the first time after loading the dishwasher, Sarah was surprised to see she had a message from Katelyn. When she opened it, she found a dimly lit photo of her and Quinn in the entryway, kissing under the mistletoe. His hands were on her waist, and hers were in his hair. Through her editing magic, Kate had blurred everything else in the background, making the photo look just like Sarah felt in that moment – as if she and Quinn were in their own little bubble.

Caught you guys under the mistletoe. It was too cute not to take a pic. Hope you don’t mind. Thanks for a great party. E was telling me on the way home how happy Q’s been since he met you. Anyway, just glad this crazy world brought us together. Love you, girl.

Love you too. Thank you for the beautiful picture.

Katelyn hearted the message, and when Sarah showed it to Quinn, he said, “that one should go in the launch deck, don’t you think?”

Sarah nodded, her movement slow with sudden fatigue.

“Come on,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her away from the kitchen and the dishes. “We can finish this up in the morning. Let’s get to bed.”

Too tired to argue that they really should just get it all done now, she let him lead her upstairs.

They got ready for bed, and as he pulled her close, Quinn whispered, “I love you, you know that?”

“I know.” It took a sleepy minute for her to continue, “I love you, too. I’m glad we did this.”

Tucking his nose into her hair, Quinn breathed in her familiar scent. His voice was dim when he thanked her.

She turned, pressing her nose into the divot of his collar bone so he felt and heard her next words.

“I’m glad this Christmas is with you.”

“I wouldn’t want it with anyone else.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

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