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maxinehufflepuffprincess · 3 days ago

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I'll help you

BangChan x fem! reader. Platonic Hwang Hyunjin x fem! reader. 9th member.

(This was requested. So I'm hoping that this lives up to expectations. I really enjoyed writing a one-on-one thing for Honey and Hyunjin. I hope I can do this more with the other members as well.)

Taglist. Masterlist. Progress Update. MamaBear Collection.

Summary: Hyunjin is having trouble with the dance. You step in to help.

You found Hyunjin in the dance practice room, alone. You had been looking for him, wanting to drop off the food you had made for him as well as his coffee. No one had seen him all day. Minho had come home saying he had been in the practice room all day. So you wanted to check on him.

You shut the door behind you. Hyunjin let out a loud groan before kicking the ground. He sat down and laid his head in his hands.

You watched him for a moment. You walked over to his water bottle and picked it up before heading over to the male and sitting down beside him. You placed your bag down beside you. You let him take a moment to just calm himself down.

Hyunjin ran his fingers through his hair before looking at you. “I can't get it right.” His voice sounded hurt.

You nodded your head softly. “It's okay. We all struggle sometimes.” You leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee, gently squeezing it. You then passed him his water bottle.

Hyunjin took it gratefully. A weak smile on his face. He opened his water bottle and had a mouthful and then two of it. He then closed the water bottle and set it down beside him. Hyunjin looked at the ground before turning to look at you.

He watched as you opened your bag, pulling out his usual red bento box and his coffee. You set them down in front of him.

“Alright. Eat up. Right now, you're hungry. You're getting in your head. You'll get the dance. I know you will. But you need to let yourself breathe. You need to take a break. Then, when you're ready, we'll go through it together.” You explained to him with a sweet and encouraging smile.

Hyunjin pulled you into a hug. “Thank you.” You felt him relax as you hugged him. The two of you pulled away.

Hyunjin opened his box and smiled. As usual, you packed his favourites. Hyunjin began to eat as you got out his coffee and placed it next to his water bottle.

“Are you not eating?” He asked you curiously after swallowing his mouthful.

You shook your head. “No, I already ate with the Maknae line. It was nice.” You told him as you leaned back on your hands.

Hyunjin smiled at your words. “Of course, you ate with them. They helped you cook, right?” He asked curiously before eating more of his food.

You shrugged. “Yongbok helped. He's such a sweet little helper. I.N. was in the kitchen. He helped for like a minute before deciding to be a taste tester. Han set the table, and Seungmin was on drink duty.” It has been nice getting to spend time with your youngest four.

Hyunjin picked up his coffee and drank some of it. It was perfect as usual.

“Right. After you've eaten, I want you to take a nap. It'll give me time to go warm up and go over the choreography. Then, we'll go through it together. Okay?”

Hyunjin nodded. “Thank you, Mama Bear.”

You simply smiled. “You're welcome, baby.”

Hyunjin ate his food and finished his coffee. He walked over to the couch and laid down. You got an eyemask from your bag and gave it to him, not wanting the lights to bother him as he sleeps.

He thanked you. Then, soon enough, he was out like a light.

—--------

You stood side by side with Hyunjin. The two of you are doing the moves once again.

“2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Turn, 2, 3 4, bom, ba dum.” You stopped and shook your head. “That was better.” You told him with a reassuring smile.

Hyunjin shook his head. “I messed up again, though.”

You shook your head. “You improved.” You walked over to the mirror and turned to face the tall male.

“Do it again. Focus. Don't think again about what you think you messed up on. Think about what you can improve. Think about what you did right. Feel the music and move. You're Hwang Hyunjin. Dance is second nature to you. Get out of your own head, focus and dance.” You turned on the music and watched him.

Hyunjin let out a breath and began to dance. He went from the beginning. Letting himself feel the moves. You watched him move, the music filled the air, as did the sound of Hyunjin's shoes squeaking every so often.

You watched him dance, taking note of what needed to be improved. But honestly, not much needed to be improved at all. Hyunjin was killing the moves, and you couldn't be prouder of him.

—------------

Chan was on his way to meet up with you. The two of you had planned a date for the night. You had texted him a few hours ago, telling him that you were on your way to check on Hyunjin in the Dance studio.

He had texted you back, saying he was cleaning up the track with Changbin. The two had just finished up. So he was off to find you. As he got closer, he could hear your voice. He peeked in through the window and smiled.

“So when you bring your arm up, you wanna stretch your hand out as you lean back.” He heard you say to Hyunjin as he opened the door slightly. Neither of you noticed.

He watched as Hyunjin copied your action.

“Bring your right knee up and then stomp as you lean back.” You showed him, and Hyunjin copied you. He got it. As the two of you danced, it seemed to sink in more easily, and Hyunjin couldn't have been more grateful.

“Alright. We'll do it again to the music.” You walked over to your phone, turning the music on. You jogged over to your spot, and the two of you began to dance.

Chan slipped into the room as he watched the two of you go through the dance flawlessly. The best part was that the two of you looked like you were enjoying yourselves. He had seen Hyunjin struggling this morning and now, thanks to you, he had the dance down perfectly.

When the music stopped, you were both sweating and panting. Hyunjin turned to you. He swept you into his arms, lifting you off the ground and twirling you both around.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He placed you down and kissed your cheeks. “You're a lifesaver. An actual Goddess sent down to help us.”

You let out a loud laugh and shook your head at his antics. “Jinnie. I knew you could do it. Dance is a part of who you are. Just remember, sometimes we all need a little extra time and help. There is no shame in it, and there is no shame in asking. I'm so incredibly proud of you.” You cupped his cheeks in your hands. “You're Hwang Hyunjin. You can do anything.”

"Do you think you'd be okay with helping with a solo dance project? Please? We can do it next week. Please?" Hyunjin pleaded.

You happily nodded your head. "I'd love to help you. We can go through it on Monday, after we've recorded our parts in the new song."

Chris just watched the two of you for a moment. He felt a swell of pride in his chest. Seeing you help Hyunjin made him smile. You may have been proud of the boys, but he was incredibly proud of you. Because you didn’t have to come to help Jinnie. You didn’t have to make him food and get his favourite coffee. You didn’t have to spend hours in the dance studio being patient as you went over everything with him. Working hard to help one of your members get the dance and get it out of his head.

Chan walked over to the two of you. A bright smile lay on his lips as he looked between the two of you. “Hey, sweetheart.” He said to you as he placed a hand on your waist. He placed a soft kiss on your lips.

You happily looked up at the male and kissed him back. “Hi. My love.” You snuggled into his side.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked you curiously.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, I’m ready. I may need a shower before we go out, though.” You told him somewhat shyly.

Chris let out a chuckle. “It’s alright. I saw you two, you worked hard.”

You flushed and let out a giggle. “Thank you.” You turned to Hyunjin. “Come on, grab your things. You need a shower and to relax.” You told him.

Hyunjin and you both grabbed your things. You walked hand in hand with Chan, and the three of you left the dance studio. You dropped Hyunjin at his and Binnie’s dorm first.

He left you with a big hug, another thank you and the promise to treat you to ice cream.

-----------

Everything Taglist: Thank you for supporting me. @thecheshireprincess @potato-vagina @spanish-delulu-23 @deliciousmagazinequeen @myblovedjyh @alex--awesome--22 @d4ily-s-nsh1ne

SKZ Taglist: Thank you for supporting me. @jinnie-ret btch8008s @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @enhacolor @bbokarismeow @stay-tiny-things @rougegenshin @that-girl52 @lveegsoi @ferntv

MamaBear Collection Taglist: Thank you for supporting me. @jinnie-ret @inejghafawifesblog @bbokarismeow @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @smalluglye @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @imma-much-happier-person @hwangrfrnd @stay-tiny-things @mouthfullobats @gs29 @assassinsasha23 @skzfangirl143 @vinylphwoar @rougegenshin @maddy24207 @like-diamondsinthesky @that-girl52 @fic-for-readers @mamaj-right @skzleeknowcore @thatgirlangelb @ferntv

#mamabearcollection #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz x 9th member #stray kids x 9th member #skz 9th member reader #stray kids 9th member #skz bang chan #stray kids bang chan #bang chan x reader #christopher bang #bang chan #christopher bang x reader #stray kids hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids fic

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n0rmal-cat · 2 days ago

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Kpop demon hunters x reader- selling your soul for job experience Part 7

[the girls are fighting!! also reader's going through it]

[also i try to write more next time aghhhhh]

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 8

Reader draped a blanket over Abby with a sign, with a satisfying stretch they bent backward, cracking their spine with relief “Who knew lifting a bunch of muscular men would be so hard?”.

They made their way back to the comfort of the couch, they spotted Baby where they once sat, looking up at them from his water. “You’re still here? Don’t you want to get some sleep?” they asked, now sitting next to him.

“I’m fine. Being tired isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to me.” Baby shrugged as he watched the water swirl in the bottle.

“Thanks, by the way…for the yeah..” he didn’t even seem to want to say it, but the anxious tapping of plastic told them everything. “Don’t worry about it, um, do you want me to call you baby?”

He responded with a small laugh, “It really doesn’t matter to me, Baby is just a stupid name.” he paused and looked up at them, "but I don't mind being called 'baby' someone cute," he smirked to himself.

Reader blushed, "I'm going to choose to ignore that comment." They put a hand over their flustered face.

A comfortable silence settled between them, filled only by the soft buzzing of the room.

"So I gotta ask," reader turned, leaning back against the cushions.

“Hmm?” Baby hummed, taking a slow sip from his bottle, his eyes fixed intently on Reader.

"Why'd you agree to this? You don't seem like the type," they gestured with their hand.

Baby leaned back slightly as well. “Well, it’s either this or rot away right? What would you choose?”

“I was already doing that, wasn’t I? choose the same thing you did” Reader shot back.

He teased, “I guess you're not so far off from us then, huh? Who knows? Maybe when we go back, we’ll be in Gwi-ma’s good graces. The rest of the demons seem to like us.” Baby leaned in a bit closer to them, they could feel the cold radiating from his body.

"right 'we' " their hands were still warm, but for how long would it stay that way?

“Is it really that bad to be a demon? I mean, you’re talking to one, and you’re living with five,” Baby pressed

“It’s not just about being a demon it’s what it represents—agh, shit!” Reader suddenly doubled over, a sharp pain shooting through their head.

Concern flickered in Baby’s eyes, but he made no move to help. Instead, Reader repositioned themselves, rubbing their temples. “Damn, that’s been happening way too often. Maybe I need to sleep more…”

“Maybe…” he echoed, finishing the last drops from his water bottle with a sigh. He set it down on the table, the sound seeming far louder than it should in the quiet room. “You don’t have to stay with me, you know. You can sleep if you want.”

“Nah, I know you’re waiting for Jinu. I don’t want you to be alone here, right?” Reader smiled.

Just then, the elevator doors opened, and footsteps echoed down the corridor. “Well, speak of the devil-er, Jinu!” Reader exclaimed.

Jinu stepped in, glancing between Reader and Baby with a confused frown. “Why are you two here... and together?”

“The better question is where were you?” Baby replied, standing up, his expression shifting to one of annoyance. “You can’t just leave us without telling us where you’re going.”

“It’s not that serious,” Jinu said, trying to downplay the situation. “I’m just doing what Gwi-ma wants.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I wouldn’t be so worked up if you actually talked to us. This whole thing, you never run anything by us,” Baby shot back, his frustration clear.

Jinu stood there in silence, not looking at either of them.

"What do you think? None of us understands what it's like to be you. Don't lie to yourself Jinu. You're not the only one struggling here. we're all pieces of trash. The least we can do is acknowledge it," Baby said, shaking his head as he spoke.

"I had a chat with one of the hunters," Jinu glanced up.

"Wait, what?" reader stood to their feet.

"You had a-what is wrong with you!?" Baby pushed him back with a growl.

Jinu let himself fall to the floor, his back meeting the edge of a shelf with a thud. “That’s what happens when I tell the truth,” he spat, glaring up at them.

“Alright, hold on,” Reader stepped between the two, trying to diffuse the situation. “We’re not going to have a fallout over a stupid argument.”

“Stupid? He went to meet a hunter and didn’t think to warn us? What if she followed you back?”

"Even if she did, she thinks I'm human, she can't kill you here, now you," they turned to Jinu, “why didn’t you just tell them? That’s the dumb part! Baby was waiting for you the least you could’ve done is call!”

Jinu scoffed, rubbing his arm where Baby had pushed him. “Call? I don’t even have a phone! How would I call any of you?”

"ok, he has a point," reader looked back at baby, "but again, let's not fight."

The two continued to glare at each other as Jinu stood up. "I'm going to bed," Baby muttered, turning away.

Jinu watched him walk away. "Whatever..." he mumbled, pushing past reader and toward his own room.

Left alone, the reader stood still in the dim, empty room, the only sound was the doors clicking shut. "Damn it,” they whispered to themselves.

Suddenly, the stove top flickered to life, drawing their attention. A familiar pink and purple flame appeared in the darkness. "Gwi-ma?..." they asked, stepping cautiously toward the kitchen.

'Did you have fun today?' His voice was warm, almost genuine. “Fun?” they echoed.

'Playing pretend, of course, 'the innocent human' is that right?' he seemed to grow bigger again.

“Look, if you want to talk to Jinu, I can go—” the reader started, but he cut them off 'Did I ask for Jinu? I believe I was speaking to you, no?'

Reader's hand shook over the knob, tempted to turn him off, they knew it wouldn't work. "What is it you want to talk about then?" they managed to ask.

The fire morphed into a smile. I told you I came to ask if you had fun pretending to be 'human'...or maybe it's not pretend and just plain denial?'

Reader turned the knob, like they thought it did nothing. "It's just strategy, they can't go after them if they see me here, can they?" They glared

'Oh, of course,' his tone dripped with sarcasm. 'And you wouldn't want the three of them to get hurt either, would you?' Their grip on the knob tightened, knuckles white as they squeezed harder, until-crack!

The knob snapped clean in half, causing purple marks to scatter across their hand. “What?-” Their breath hitched as they dropped the broken piece in shock, cradling their hand as if it were in pain.

He let out a whistle, it pierced their ears 'oops, looks like you and the purple one finally have something in common now' as quickly as he came, he left, leaving reader panicked staring at their own hand like it was someone else's.

They looked towards the sink and turned it on, shoving the plug in, when it got to about halfway way they put their arm in and put their head down. They didn't know if it would do anything, but it did help them calm down a bit.

They took it out, looking at their hand once more marks finally gone. They let out a sigh of relief, they looked around the dark room again.

They made their way to the light switch, turning on both the kitchen and living room lights. They turned the TV on and put it on half volume, they sat down and started to watch whatever was on.

"Why do you have that on!?" Jinu came in, covering his ears, once his eyes landed on reader however, he quickly went to their side. "What's wrong? Why do you..." he tailed off to reader's wet hand.

"Nothing, just wanted to watch some TV is all" they stared blankly at the TV.

Jinu bounced his leg as he looked around the room. "I'll ah, ill apologize to baby when he wakes up, if you want, I can stay here till you fall asleep?"

"I'd like that," they leaned against his shoulder.

He smiled, "You know we're gonna finish this in the idol awards, you're gonna make us look great then aren't you? i don't know if you can tell, but the others really like what you put together.

"Hm," reader gives a hum in response, "you guys would be nothing without me, huh?"

He gave a laugh, "Get some rest, I'll be here."

the tag list-

@tumblblob @snowy-violet @yumi-does-stuff @d3sperate-enuf @kashasenpai @scara-simp69 @starwormy @luv1ayala @00hellohello00 @julia-loves-cupcakes @twilightknightt

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c4tluver02 · 3 days ago

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flat tire

wc: 2.9k

summary: On your way home you get a flat tire, good thing there just so happens to be a cute boy outside that can help you out!

cw: feminine!reader, no use of y/n, i have no idea what its like to get a tow truck so if its wrong no its not, fluffyyyyy <3

The heat that fills the inside of your parked car almost makes you retreat back into your AC filled work space. Key word almost.

The need to get home and change into pajamas overruled any irritation from the hot stuffy air. You quickly turned the air up and made your way home. But when you were at a stop light you noticed the next exit you needed to take to get home was closed off due to road work. The sigh that escapes you is heavy, another thing that fuels your irritation. There's another way home, a longer way, but still a way. It takes you through a few fancy neighborhoods that have speed bumps and large neon green signs that tell you children run around. It makes the route another 10 minutes to your already too long of a drive but it's all you got.

Trying to make the most of it you allow yourself to look at the nice homes, the ones you’ll probably never be able to own. But they do say to dream big, right?

The houses are decorated with summer trinkets, it being mid July everyone was outside and in their pools. Which these big houses definitely have and you even see some of them due to the fences they have. Tall white wood as an excuse for a wall to keep privacy, but really they want you to see their fancy big backyard with the huge pool and additional hot tub. It’s easy to look into the homes as they all have large windows that no doubt allow beautiful light to surround the room. Maybe you shouldn't have given yourself the luxury of being nosy, now you have another thing to be upset about.

And because you were too busy looking at the homes you don't realise the glass bottles that litter the ground, beer bottles broken and some normal ones sitting on the sidewalk. You can feel your back tire lower before you hear it. Your other three tires barely make it through to let you park close to the sidewalk.

Of course one of those rich assholes had some party and didn't pick up a single thing outside. Out of sight out of mind. Now you’re the one paying for it, along with the heat, and the road work. Speaking of heat you’ll have to get out of your cool car to go knock on some door to ask for a phone. That brings a whole new type of stress to you, the idea of someone in this neighborhood actually helping you. They’d probably assume you're trying to sell them something and shut a door in your face.

Now that you’re out of your car you can hear the music coming from a backyard. It’s two houses in front of you and all you could think is if you were paying this much for a house your neighbor better be silent. But right now, in this moment, you’re thankful for it.

Walking up to the gate that matches the basically see through fence, you can see a guy in the pool. He’s got a net in his hand, seemingly cleaning the leaves that fall from his tall trees, and you can see his head move slightly to the music.

When you try to knock on the wooden gate it’s nowhere as loud as it needs to be to block his music. Yelling to get his attention seems like the worst thing to do but it’s really your only option.

“Excuse me!” You say with a loud voice.

You say nothing more since he gets out of the pool. Thinking he heard you but instead he grabs a beer from the cooler that sits next to his pool chairs. He shakes his head trying to get water out of his ears and it makes his hair rise as well. His beer doesn't match the bottles that popped your tire which you are automatically thankful for. If you had to tell him some loser left out glass and it was him you for sure wouldn't be able to use his phone.

This next attempt you say another “excuse me” but it’s added with some slight jumping on your tippy toes. Hoping your head is seen over the gate so he could be more aware of your presence.

And thankfully it works! His head turns quickly to the noise but the half of your head that’s showing is what makes him walk over to you.

“Uh, hey?” Now that you can finally see him up close you can see the water drip off of him. The muscles in his arms are highlighted by the sun along with the bright pink sunburn he's gaining.

“Hi. My, um, my tire went out. Well I drove over glass. But I didn't even see the glass in the road because, erm, I wasn't looking. I mean of course I was looking at the road but- Sorry my tires popped and I need a phone to call someone.”

With everything going on the last thing you thought about was how you were going to ask for help and maybe that shows. The whole thing coming out barely coherent but his nodding along makes you think he got the jist.

“You need to call a tow truck?” He asks, his voice is nice and low. Very calming for your situation right now.

“I think? I dont know I’ve never had a flat tire. Do you know how to fix one?” The ideas are coming into your head and then your mouth spits them out just seconds after. It’s probably very unhelpful for him.

This whole conversation has been had through the gate but Steve feels okay to open it. Letting you and your problems in for him to deal with. You give him a quiet thanks and make your way to the chairs that sit under an umbrella.

“M’sorry to bother you but I heard the music and you’re already out here.” The apology is sweet but all Steve can see is your long legs that poke out of your skirt. You have a nice white top on and flats that match the skirt.

You’re really no better thought, his tan skin and nice hair has you in a daze. One you’ll blame on the heat later when you overthink everything you're doing right now. The hair on his chest is the cherry on top, he looks very good almost like you caught him at the perfect time.

“It’s okay, do you know if you have a spare tire?” He asks, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist. The way he pushes the corner of the towel into his shorts makes them go lower, exposing more of the hair that travels downward.

“Um, no I don't.” You say sheepishly, it comes out after a beat of silence and you pray he can't see you ogling at him.

“Okay then you probably should call a tow truck.” He gives a light laugh. His mood is great for the fact that some girl just interrupted his chill pool day.

And when he turns his loud music off you feel like you could hear a pin drop. It’s too silent now, and you’re unsure what to do. Maybe ask to use his phone, or ask for his number, neither of which you are feeling brave enough to do.

“Yeah, you’re right. I should call.” Is what comes out, along with a nod to further your agreement.

He gives you a motion that says ‘lets go’ as he walks towards the sliding glass doors that lead inside to the kitchen. The heat has basically dried him off already, only a few drops of water fall as he walks. His back is like the stars in the sky, practically hundreds of little moles fill it up.

Once you both make it inside you stop squinting your eyes and his sunburn looks almost 10 times worse than it did outside. It makes you wonder if he can feel it or if the heat took over his whole body.

“I can go get a phone book to see what the number is?�� Steve has a feeling you wouldn't know it even if this had happened to you before. Being inside must make you feel better as you let out a sigh of relief.

“Yes please, I’ll just wait here.” You say rocking back and forth on your feet. That gets you a smile from him and thankfully you were planted there or else you might have completely collapsed. He’s extremely pretty and he’s being very nice to you. It’s a lethal combination for a girl.

When he comes back he’s already flipping through the pages. And then he puts it on the counter which makes you think he’s found it, you step closer to him but he doesn't move away. His finger runs along the page as he continues searching and you can smell the chlorine on him along with a hint of sunscreen. How did he burn when he had sunscreen on?

“Ah! Okay here it is, the phones just on that wall.” He points to the wall behind you with one arm and the other stays put on the number you need.

“Thank you.” You seem very shy to Steve, a bit of a different attitude than when you were a rambling mess asking him to fix a stranger's tire.

Still he gives a small ‘mhm’ with another beautiful smile. This time you had the wall behind you to hold you up.

When you pick up the phone and dial the numbers you can feel his eyes on you. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. It makes his biceps pop out more and his hand comes up to push his hair back from his eyes.

The call doesn't take long at all but apparently you're a good 40 minutes away from the only tow truck in this town. It won't be here for a second and if they need to take the free way that's under construction then it might be even longer. If this cute boy wasn't here you’d bang your head against the wall.

“So, they won't be here for about an hour. But, um, thank you for your help, you’re truly my life saver.” You give him a smile that will be stuck in Steve's head for days.

“Where are you going? They aren't here?” The way his voice is laced with confusion almost makes you laugh.

“I mean you probably want to get back to what you were doing?”

“I was just cleaning, nothing important. You can stay, if you want. I don't wanna force you to be here or anything” His strong start and kind finish is what finally gets a laugh out of you.

“Okay, I’ll stay, thank you.”

“Did you want to go back out? We can sit by the pool.” All your brain is thinking is “cute boy in pool” and because you don't want to speak to him in caveman all you do is nod.

He slides the door open and lets you walk out first, you think you might explode when you get home. Before he walks towards the pool he grabs a towel and sits it by the edge, giving you a nice spot to sit so your legs don't burn from the ground.

Steve gets fully in the pool though. Only his arms come out to hold himself to the wall of the pool, he’s very close to you, any closer and he’d get you wet.

“So how did your tire go out again?” Steve remembers but he just wants to hear you talk.

“Well, I was looking at the nice houses and I didn't realize there were beer bottles broken in the road and I drove right over them.” The pout on your lips is driving him a little crazy, your legs gently kicking back and forth are what take his eyes away from you.

“Yeah there was a party down the street a few days ago, they never clean their mess.” His scoff is just loud enough for you to hear.

“I never even take this way, but the exit I take was closed so I had to take the long way.” You couldn't say why you explained this all to him but you felt like you should explain why you were in a random area.

“Well at least I was out here, m’glad I could help.” His shoulders are getting redder by the second, it makes you want to scoop some water onto him.

“Oh me too, it was you or probably some mean old person who definitely wouldn't have helped me.”

Steve feels like he’s laughed 10 times within the last 5 minutes talking to you. “There are so many mean old people in this neighborhood you truly got lucky.”

You continue to giggle with him, a nice few seconds of silence passes between you two. Just the sound of the water moving around your legs and the birds chirping. It’s not awkward like you’d think it would be, just relaxing in the moment.

“You do know your shoulders are like completely burnt right now right?”

“Shit, are they? I swear I put on sunblock.” He does what you've been wanting to do and splashes some water on himself, not that it will block the sun but maybe help the skin feel cooler.

“Want me to go get it so you can reapply?” You saw it sitting near the cooler that was full of beer earlier. And really if he asked for your help you couldn't deny, he’s done so much for you after all.

“Yeah if you don't mind.”

Getting up is not easy in a skirt, especially when a boy is lower than you are. Steves lucky you turned just before his cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red from seeing the white underwear you sport.

When you come back Steve steps out to reach the stairs of the pool. Both of you are ankle deep now at the top stair and he turns his back to you. His skin burns when you touch it and you're not sure how he didnt feel it coming. Steve knows, you have distracted every single one of his senses. Your perfume, your short skirt, your long legs hitting his arm in the water, and your cute giggle. Everything about you knocks him off his game.

Once you are done applying the cream to his back he flips around and this time you give the bottle to him. Any more of your hands on him and you might not be able to get them off. He can do the front anyways.

“You need any?” He asks, putting it on his shoulders in a sloppy way that leaves white streaks.

“Maybe on my arms.” Your shoulders and chest are covered by your t-shirt but having burnt arms would be awful, you’re thankful he thought to ask you.

Before even thinking your arms are stretched out to meet him. You could do it yourself but now they are already out. He doesn't protest though, complying with your silent ask with the gentlest of hands. They rub the lotion in completely, unlike his shoulders, and it feels nice. When he reaches your hands– the lotions pretty much all rubbed in– he continues holding onto it.

You scoot back to your spot and he walks down to his. An action that would probably be easier without his hand in yours but no ones saying anything different. And when you hear a loud honk outside both of you flip your heads. You can see a big truck with a long chain attached to it.

Steve's hand lets go of yours and it’s crazy how quickly you already miss the feeling. He gets out just as fast to dry off as you take the towel you were sitting on to dry your legs. He wraps the towel back around his waist and you put your flats back on.

The tow truck guy, you now know to be named Dave, tells you he’s just gonna attach your car to his. A simple thing that won't take long at all, and that he could even drive you back home. The fact that your time with this cute boy was over is soul crushing, it was probably written all over your face too. Maybe he could tell.

“So, you think I could get your number? I mean I think it’s the least you could do.” He says playfully, his hand blocking the sun from his eyes. He looks dreamy right now.

“Oh totally, I’ll need someone to drive me around won't I?” You finish with a grin that is transferred automatically to Steve.

He leaves you alone with Dave for a second to grab a paper towel that has his name and number written on it in chicken scratch.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“No problem, would you call me to let me know you made it home safely?” Of course he wants to know you made it home safe, but maybe he also just wants to talk to you even longer.

You nod a ‘yes’ to him and Dave’s voice booms from his truck asking if you’re ready. Knowing he doesn't have all day to wait around you hop in the car and put your seatbelt on. Steve only smiles as he makes a phone with his hand to remind you to call him, as if you could even forget.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things au #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #writing #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem

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haikyu-mp4 · 2 days ago

Text

“I’m,” he started, but seemingly stopped to consider his words. Uncomfortably, you pursed your lips into a pitiful expression. “I’m obsessed with you.”

Your face completely morphed into about five different emotions, one at a time to make him really reconsider his choice of words. Oh no, that doesn’t sound good at all.

“Is that… a threat?” you asked, grimacing and looking around you. The tram stop where he saw you every day was still filled with people, so surely he wasn’t admitting to stalking you now. Right?

He hadn’t considered the fact that you probably never noticed him back, and as you questioned him, he frantically tried to correct it. “No! I just always see you here, and you’re gorgeous.”

It didn’t help his confidence that his friends were snorting behind him, trying to hold their laughter.

You shrugged, still unsure about this random man, but softening as you noticed his friends. “Thank you?”

“I wanted to ask you out.” Somewhat pathetically, in a manner he knew said friends would never let him forget, he clutched his hands together like a beggar. “Please forget I said any of that before.”

You held a hand in front of your mouth to try and shield him from the embarrassment of your laughter. He was funny, in a totally weird way. Should you give him a chance?

“This is my first impression of you,” you reminded him.

“I want to give you more impressions.”

You gave his arm a soft pat. “Maybe speaking just isn’t for everyone. How about you give me your number and I’ll consider texting you?”

Surely the first impression couldn’t have been that bad if it scored him your number by the end of the day?

tenma, GOSHIKI, nishinoya, hinata, YACHI, atsumu, koganegawa, komori, YAMAMOTO, TANAKA, anyone else it made you think of<3

please stay safe out in public. like my dad always says, don't talk to strangers.

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camficdiner · 2 days ago

Note

1.1, 2.5, 3.5, 4.3

there’s a party at the lake house and a game of truth or dare is happening and someone dares her to make out with all 3 hughes bros and rank them. she rolls her eyes and doesn’t want to do it as she’s friends with them all but she does. after, jack ends up being number 1 and that’s that. later on he finds her and is like so i was first? and is all cocky about it and one thing leads to another and jack shows her what else he’s good at😏

☕️ cams fic diner — order 125

🍒 thank you:

to the ones who kiss and rank and still don’t know what’s about to hit them.

💬 “rank me again”

✨ description & prompts:

character: Jack Hughes

prompt: there’s a party at the lake house. someone dares her to kiss all three Hughes brothers and rank them. Jack comes in first. later, he finds her and asks what else he’s best at. he shows her.

type: party chaos, friends to something more, jealousy/possessiveness, smut

🛼🍒🧁✨

⸻

You already knew it was a mistake the second the bottle stopped spinning and pointed at you.

“Truth or dare?” Luke grinned, eyes glassy.

You leaned back against the couch, stretching your legs out like this was all beneath you. “Truth.”

“Nope.” Cole was already shaking his head. “No way. You’ve picked truth the last two rounds.”

Jack, slouched like a king in the corner of the couch, raised a brow. “Come on. Live a little.”

You sighed. “Fine. Dare.”

Cole smirked. “Kiss all three Hughes brothers. Then rank them.”

The room erupted in noise. Laughter. Groans. A couple people half-choked on their drinks.

You blinked. “Are you on drugs?”

“It’s a dare,” Jack said innocently. “You’re not scared, are you?”

Your glare could have cut glass. “If any of you try to slip tongue, I swear to God—”

Quinn stood first. It was harmless. A polite, two-second press of lips, like he was kissing someone he respected too much to ever touch.

Luke made a face. “This is so weird,” he muttered before leaning in. It was awkward and quick, and he backed off the second it happened like he needed mouthwash.

Then Jack stood.

And you hesitated.

He was looking at you like he already knew he’d win. Smug, slow, borderline dangerous. His hand found your waist before you could stop him, pulling you closer.

The kiss was deliberate. Hot. His mouth didn’t move fast — just deep. A low hum buzzed in his throat when you didn’t pull away. And then he did use tongue, sweeping into your mouth like it belonged there.

When he pulled back, your heart was pounding.

You sat down, forcing your face neutral.

“Rank them,” someone called.

You didn’t even think. “Jack. Then Quinn. Then Luke.”

Jack shot up two hands like he’d just scored a hat trick. Luke fake-cried into a beer. Quinn rolled his eyes.

Jack didn’t stop looking at you for the rest of the night.

—

Later, you found yourself alone on the back deck, the lake dark and quiet under the moonlight. You heard footsteps behind you before you felt the body heat.

“You really meant it?” Jack’s voice was lower now. Slower.

You turned. He was already closer than you expected.

“You were the best kisser,” you said flatly. “Happy?”

“No,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Not just the best. I was first.”

“So?”

“So, what else am I the best at?”

You opened your mouth.

Didn’t answer.

Jack took a step forward, pinning you lightly between the banister and his body.

“You’ve been looking at me all night.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

His mouth brushed yours.

“That kiss meant something,” he said. “And you know it.”

And then he kissed you again — nothing like earlier. This was deeper, darker, fingers sliding into your hair, hand gripping your ass. His hips were already grinding into yours, slow and hard enough to make you gasp.

“Jack—” you whispered, trying to pull away, dizzy.

He caught your jaw, turned your face back. “No,” he said. “Not running.”

His mouth was back on yours — hot, frantic. You felt your back hit the hallway wall, then the soft thud of your shorts hitting the floor.

“Bedroom,” he muttered.

You didn’t make it.

He turned you around, bent you over the hallway table. Your panties were tugged down in one sharp pull, his hands bracing your hips open.

“Still wanna act like that kiss was nothing?” he said, voice tight, cock already pressing between your thighs. “Still wanna pretend you don’t think about me?”

Your moan gave you away.

He slid into you hard.

And you gasped.

He didn’t give you time to adjust — he was relentless, thick and possessive, hips slamming into you with a rhythm that was all need. You clutched the table, crying out as he pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in.

“Look at you,” he growled, grabbing a handful of your hair. “Taking it like you fucking need me.”

You couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe.

He shoved back in harder. Rough. Unforgiving. Your orgasm built like a wave and hit hard, legs trembling.

And still he kept going.

“Say it,” he gritted. “Say I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

“Yes—Jack—fuck—yes—”

You came again, legs shaking, teeth biting into your arm to muffle the noise.

When he finally pulled you back up, his chest was slick with sweat. He carried you into the nearest bedroom and dropped you gently onto the sheets.

Then he undressed you fully.

Laid you down.

And kissed every inch of skin like he hadn’t just ruined you.

“Still ranking me first?” he murmured against your thigh.

You laughed, breathless. “I think you broke the whole scale.”

He smirked. “Good.”

He crawled up and kissed you slow this time. Long. Tender.

And when you fell asleep — bare, flushed, still sore — his hand was resting on your stomach like it was a claim.

Like he’d finally gotten what he wanted.

—

#camficdiner #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #jh86 #jh86 x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #jh86 imagine #jh86 smut

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winter-soldier-buck · 3 days ago

Text

heart by heart ♡ b.b

pt. 3

pairing: thunderbolts!bucky barnes x singlemom!fem!reader

warnings: ... another cliffhanger (i'm so sorry) and ANGSTTTTTT

word count: 4.5k

author’s note: ok, so, because i took longer to write this chapter than i wanted to i made it a long one for y'all. as always, please drop a comment or ask regarding this story if you're enjoying it! seeing what you have to say and what you're liking about it makes me want to continue writing it more 🥹🫶🏼

series masterlist

Bucharest, Romania - June 2016

“Mulțumesc,” you thanked the street vendor as he handed Bucky the bag of plums he just purchased, then the two of you turned to walk away together.

“That was good,” Bucky said, making you smile. “You’re sounding less like a tourist every day.”

You scowled at him.

“I’ve lived in this city for almost eight months, Bucky. I don’t think I can be classified as a tourist anymore. Regardless of how bad my Romanian still is.”

“Can you even say you’ve been here that long when you’ve gone to a different country at least once during each of those almost eight months? The fact that your week-long trip to Greece turned into almost a month definitely invalidates that statement.”

You rolled your eyes at that.

“Aw, Bucky, you can just say you missed me,” you teased, looking up at him with a smirk.

“Maybe I did,” he shrugged and smirked right back, annoyingly making you blush.

“Whatever.”

Bucky laughed, continuing to grin as comfortable silence took over while the two of you kept walking.

He did have a point, though. You’d travelled lots since you first arrived in Bucharest and had just returned from Greece the evening prior. Each time you returned from whatever excursion you went on, though, Bucky was always there. The sense of normalcy you felt seeing him again whenever you returned meant more to you than you could ever explain. It was the closest thing you had to a feeling of home while being so far away from your actual home.

However, things with Bucky were weird.

Since meeting Bucky when you first arrived in Bucharest all those months ago, the two of you had become quite close. You’d explored the city together, grabbed drinks during nights out, and he’d even been over to the apartment you were staying at many times for those calmer nights in.

The more you thought about it, though, maybe it wasn’t things with him that were odd. It was Bucky himself who was acting strange.

Despite Bucky genuinely feeling like a person you’ve known your entire life, and him becoming someone you really cared about rather quickly, you knew nothing about him. Within a week of knowing each other, he knew your entire backstory. You shared what you did for work back in the USA, where you studied architecture and what made you fall in love with the art. Bucky even knew the lore of how you lived with your aunt because of an absentee mother and a doting father, you lost way too soon.

While getting to know Bucky, you discussed things you normally didn’t like to talk about with him because you felt comfortable enough to do so. It killed you to think that maybe he didn’t feel the same safety when it came to opening up to you.

You wanted to know what made Bucky, Bucky. How did he end up in Bucharest? Why did he constantly wear leather gloves on both hands and seemingly go out of his way to limit any physical touch? Would he ever invite you into his apartment instead of meeting you outside the building? These were all questions you wondered but never got answers to.

It wasn’t for lack of trying, either. You’d asked Bucky about his past many times, but learned during the first few months of knowing him that it was a touchy subject. He never snapped at you about it, which was relieving because you didn’t want it to seem like you were prying, but after numerous occasions of him brushing off your questions and changing the subject, you got the hint not to press him any further.

You hated that everything with Bucky felt so surface-level at the same time as him being someone you cared about so much beyond the friendship that had formed between the two of you. The fact that he kissed you the night before you left for Greece sure didn’t help the situation either.

That night played on a torturous loop inside your brain the entire time you were away. The kiss was slow, but full of pent-up need. Something you both clearly felt.

Bucky was the one who initiated it. The two of you had spent hours talking on the couch in the apartment you were renting, while sipping on the few bottles of wine you wanted to get rid of before you departed for Santorini. The tipsier you felt, the closer you mindlessly inched toward Bucky. Then, all of a sudden, there was hardly any space between you at all. The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours with his right arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer. It was the most physical touch you’d ever experienced from Bucky in the months of knowing him.

The constant flirting and banter finally culminated in a kiss. One that both of you seemed to enjoy, and you couldn’t stop thinking about. However, since meeting with Bucky after returning from your trip, the kiss still hadn’t been addressed.

You hated it and knew you had to say something.

“What’s on your mind?” Bucky questioned, breaking you from your train of thought.

“Oh, nothing,” you lied, shaking your head.

Bucky raised his eyebrow skeptically.

“Doesn’t seem like ‘nothing.’ You can tell me.”

You sighed.

“It’s just- are we really not going to talk about what happened the night before I left for Greece?”

“Oh,” Bucky said, trailing off as he slowly came to a stop just before reaching the street. You stopped, too, and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “Y/N, listen, that kiss, it-.”

Bucky paused as he glanced across the street, seemingly avoiding eye contact as his posture stiffened.

“Don’t you dare say it was a mistake,” you snarled through gritted teeth, but also felt like you’d been stabbed in the gut. “I know it was just a kiss and you left shortly after, but no one kisses like that and doesn’t mean it. Y-you meant it, right? You had to mean it. Or did you do it just to see what it’d be like and not care how it’d make me feel?”

Bucky’s gaze immediately snapped back to you, disbelief written all across his features.

“What? No. Of course, I wanted to kiss you, Y/N. I don’t regret it at all. If that weren’t what I wanted, I never would’ve done it. You’re too important to me to ever string you along like that.”

“Then why are you acting so weird right now? It’s stressing me out.”

“I-,” he started, but trailed off again as he glanced back across the street. “I’m pretty sure that guy is staring at me.”

“What?” You asked and immediately followed his gaze. Sure enough, a man sitting inside a newspaper stand was staring at Bucky, who wasn’t long before starting to make way toward the man.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Bucky, wait!”

Mindlessly, you followed Bucky into the street, yelling an apology to the car that lay on its horn as they slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting you. After taking a quick breath, you scrambled to catch up to Bucky as he stalked toward the stand.

Once the man realized Bucky was approaching, he quickly abandoned the newsstand and ran off into the crowds of people all around the market area. Bucky didn’t seem bothered, though, as he reached the stand and grabbed one of the newspapers.

“What the hell,” you said as you finally caught up. “What was that about?”

“I have to go,” Bucky replied after a moment of looking over the front page. He then set the paper down and started walking away without another word.

You stepped after him.

“Bucky, stop, please. What is going on? You’re scaring me.”

At that, Bucky froze, then slowly turned to face you with a look of absolute regret.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Sorry for what?” You asked, heart pounding. “Should I be scared?”

Bucky winced at her question, as though her words caused him physical pain and what he was about to say hurt even more. Slowly, though, he nodded.

“I have to go,” he repeated. “Don’t follow me. Don’t come looking for me. Act like we never met.”

“Bucky, I can’t just do that. Please, tell me what this is about.”

He shook his head, and you could’ve sworn you saw the slightest tear forming in his eye.

“I’m sorry. Goodbye, Y/N.”

Bucky turned to walk away again, and this time, you didn’t stop him. Instead, you blinked back tears while watching as he disappeared into the crowd, moving quickly.

You shook your head, still wondering what the hell just happened, then looked down at the newspaper sitting on the counter of the stand, gasping as you read it.

On the front page was a title stating that a ‘Winter Soldier’ was wanted for the bombing of the International Centre in Vienna, a terrorist attack that happened while you were still in Greece.

Below the title was a blurry, zoomed-in picture of Bucky.

~*~

New York City, USA - Late 2027

“Fuck me,” you whispered to yourself after making eye contact with Caleb. He looked rather handsome with his sandy brown hair styled back away from his face, and in the black, long, tailored wool coat he wore.

Unfortunately, though, your words weren’t quiet enough.

“Mommy,” Penny gasped, then looked up at you disapprovingly. “That’s a bad word.”

“I know, baby, sorry.”

“And you must be Penny,” Caleb greeted, smiling charmingly as he looked at your daughter. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your mom.”

Penny inched closer to you again as she stared at Caleb. However, she was a different kind of tense than when Bucky was talking to her. With Bucky and Yelena, she was shy and hid away. She was nervous being around new people, which wasn’t out of character. But with Caleb, she was rigid. Almost as though something about his presence made her greatly uncomfortable.

Her behaviour made you wonder what she was picking up on that you weren’t.

In the almost three years since Penny was born, you’d never brought someone around to meet her who wasn’t a close friend or family member. The very few people you had gone on a date with or talked to since putting yourself back out there again after Bucky left never went beyond something extremely casual. Meaning those brief interactions weren’t even close to being significant enough that you would want any of them to meet your daughter.

Caleb, on the other hand, was someone you began thinking could eventually become worthy of being introduced to Penny.

You were very picky regarding who knew about Penny. Given that her father was the infamous Winter Soldier, it was impossible to know what parts of Bucky’s past could affect the daughter he and you shared. It was an extra precaution to ensure her safety.

Again, though, when it came to Caleb, you thought he could potentially be given the green light to meet Penny one day. In the couple of months the two of you had been talking and going on dates, you opened up to him about being a single mom. You felt comfortable enough to share that information, and he didn’t get scared by it, which meant the world to you. That being said, despite you thinking your relationship with him could evolve into the level of significance where he and Penny would interact, you sure as hell weren’t prepared for it to be so soon.

Neither was Penny. The way she stayed tucked behind you, dead silent as she reached up to grip your hand, told you everything you needed to know.

Penny was notorious for being an incredible judge of character, but there was nothing about Caleb that made you think her being unsure of him was justified. Ultimately, you decided her uneasiness was likely a result of the overstimulation that came with meeting so many new people. It truly broke your heart.

“Oh, Pen,” you said after observing how anxious she seemed to be, then immediately crouched down and gently turned her to face you, keeping both hands on each of her arms. “You ok, bub? I’ve got you.”

“Mommy, we go home?” Penny asked, bottom lip trembling as she blinked away tears forming in her big blue eyes.

“Of course, baby. I’m so sorry. We’ll still get ice cream on our way, I promise.”

Penny didn’t respond; instead, she stepped forward and crashed against your chest as she wrapped her arms around the back of your neck. You held her close for a few moments so she could take some deep, calming breaths. Eventually, she relaxed in your embrace. However, the moment was once again ruined when someone spoke up.

“Who the hell is this knob?” Yelena asked. You snapped your gaze to her as you stood, still holding Penny, and didn’t miss how she looked at Caleb up and down judgmentally.

“Yelena,” Bucky sighed, taking a deep breath in an attempt to remain level-headed with everything going on. “Enough.”

“What? This guy is meeting your daughter at the same time you are, and you’re not even a little pressed about it? Bullshit.”

Your breath hitched, and your eyes bulged at how casually she publicly threw around the fact that Bucky was Penny’s dad. Who he was to her was something you were still getting used to being known outside of your circle, especially seeing as Bucky had only known about Penny’s existence for a few weeks.

Luckily, for whatever reason, Caleb seemed unfazed by the comment. You started thinking he hadn’t even paid attention to what Yelena said as he looked at Bucky and smirked condescendingly.

“Governor Barnes,” Caleb greeted with a tone of arrogance, making you scowl. “Er- former governor, I should say. One of the shortest governor terms in office, actually. Great to meet you.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at Caleb in surprise, but also with silent judgment.

“Can’t quite say the same about meeting you,” Bucky quipped, effortlessly matching Caleb’s standoffish energy.

Caleb laughed.

“Unemployment must be giving you the free time to grace us citizens with your presence.”

You blinked, not knowing what to say. However, Yelena did.

“Alright, listen here, you prick,” she started and stepped forward, but Bucky quickly pulled her back.

“Don’t,” he stated firmly, continuing to look at Caleb with pure disdain. “You are?”

“Well, if you must know,” Caleb scoffed. “Y/N and I-.”

“Alright, stop,” you cut him off, then paused to adjust how you held Penny on your hip. “Both of you. I’ve seen enough toxic masculinity for one day, my god.”

“Tell me about it,” Yelena hummed in agreement as she glanced between the two men.

Bucky and Caleb continued glaring at each other, but slowly, they looked back at you. Unfortunately, you knew you had some explaining to do with each of them, regardless of how reluctant you were to do so.

“Bucky,” you started, then sighed. “This is Caleb. We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months. Caleb, this is Bucky, as you already know. He… he’s Penny’s father. This is a complicated mess. However, you both deserve to know that about each other. I just- I didn’t think this is how everything would play out, but I’d appreciate it if the two of you could be civil, if not for my sake, for Penny’s.”

After your spiel, you glanced at Penny again, but she remained silent while leaning against your shoulder. Smiling softly, you leaned down to peck the top of her head before facing the others again.

Caleb remained stoic. On the other hand, though, Bucky’s hard gaze softened once again as he took in you and Penny. He nodded, then glanced at Yelena, who nodded in silent communication.

“Of course,” Bucky said once he locked eye contact with you again.

Although it seemed disinclined, Caleb nodded.

“For sure,” he agreed. “Apologies, Y/N.”

“It’s alright,” you said. “This entire situation is a lot and is way more than I thought would be addressed today. I owe each of you more explanation, but Pen comes first, and she’s overwhelmed. The two of us are going to go. Caleb, I’ll call you later, alright?”

He looked from you to Bucky, then back again.

“Sounds good. I should be going anyway. Again, I’m sorry, Y/N. If you or Penny need anything, please let me know.”

You didn’t miss the way Bucky narrowed his gaze at Caleb again, but chose to ignore it.

“I will. Bye, Caleb.”

With another nod and a quick, unreadable glance at the other two, Caleb continued on his way. You watched him go until he eventually disappeared amongst a nearby group of people. However, before you could go back to observing the other two, Yelena dramatically blew a raspberry.

“Screw that guy,” she quipped, unimpressed. “Such a, what do you call? Finance bro. Y/N, I was already judging your taste in men when it came to Bucky, but he was worse! There’s gotta be better options.”

“Can you not?” Bucky grumpily snapped at her, clearly annoyed.

You groaned and rubbed the hand that wasn’t holding Penny over your face.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement with what Yelena said. “Only ever knew true peace when I was single and didn’t even attempt dating.”

Although subtle, a look of hurt flashed across Bucky’s features at your words before he exhaled and awkwardly looked at the ground. It was evident what happened wasn’t how he thought meeting Penny for the first time would go either. Watching him caused a pang in your heart, and before you knew it, you were speaking again without even thinking.

“Bucky, w-would you like to walk Penny and me home?”

His beautiful blues were back on you in an instant as he blinked in surprise.

“If you’re free, that is,” you added ineptly. “You don’t have to.”

“I’d love to, Y/N,” Bucky replied, smiling softly.

You returned his smile, then looked back at Penny.

“Bucky’s going to walk us home. Is that ok with you, baby girl?”

Penny remained quiet for a moment, her eyes still locked on Bucky as she continued observing him. Then she lifted her head from your shoulder so she could face you.

“Ok, mommy,” she responded, making you smile even more.

“Well, I don’t want to ruin this little family moment,” Yelena spoke up, fighting a smile of her own. “I guess I won’t need to follow you for that.”

“You didn’t need to follow me at all,” Bucky corrected as Yelena began walking away.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll see you back at the Watchtower. It was nice to meet you, Y/N and Penny. Hopefully, I’ll see you both again soon.”

Before you could respond, she was gone, effortlessly disappearing as one would expect from a trained assassin.

Slowly, you exhaled before peering at Bucky again.

“Shall we?” You asked, shifting your hold on Penny again.

“Lead the way.”

The three of you walked further through Central Park in silence before stopping for the ice cream you promised Penny. While waiting in line at the stand, you and Bucky still didn’t say much. However, it wasn’t a dreadful quietness; it was comfortable. Penny seemed content, too. She still kept a careful watch on Bucky, though.

“This is always the hardest part,” Bucky broke the silence all of a sudden as he looked at Penny. “There are so many good flavours of ice cream, I don’t know what to pick. Do you have a favourite kind, Penny?”

Penny blinked at him, but then she smiled before giddily hiding her face against the crook of your neck.

“Oh, are we playing shy now?” You chuckled as you tickled her side, earning a series of giggles from the toddler. “You sure do have a favourite kind. Can you tell him what it is, Pen?”

“‘Nilla,” Penny responded, then looked at Bucky again, as if waiting for his approval.

Bucky grinned widely.

“Vanilla, hm? That’s one of the best kinds. I think I’ll get that too.”

Penny smiled again before squealing happily and hiding against you again, making Bucky laugh as he watched her. Your spunky little girl was back, and it was unreal to see how she already had Bucky so enamoured.

God, you were in trouble.

When you reached the front of the line, you ordered three vanilla ice cream cones. You then set Penny down so you could grab your wallet, but before you could pay, Bucky handed the vendor cash. The gesture reminded you of what he did all the time during your time in Bucharest together. Some things truly never did change.

Once the three of you had your ice cream, you all continued walking home.

You kept a close eye on Penny as she walked between you and Bucky, completely focused on eating her ice cream, unbothered by anything else going on. Well, that was actually a lie. Each time she spotted a dog, she’d excitedly point it out before going right back to licking her treat.

Bucky couldn’t stop smiling the entire time.

Eventually, the three of you reached the street where your apartment was, and by then, Penny was very relaxed. During the walk, Bucky asked her simple questions, like her favourite colour or animal, which she answered. It shocked you to see how she warmed up to him, but you knew why she did. It was because she felt safe with him, and that made your heart swell.

You continued observing Bucky and Penny interact while approaching your building, so focused on them that you didn’t even notice the commotion going on outside. It was Bucky who noticed something was going on.

“Is this your building?” He asked unsurely, facing ahead as he slowed down.

“Yeah, why?” You asked obliviously, then followed his gaze to see the people gathering out front and stopped abruptly. “What the-?”

Instinctively, you grabbed Penny’s hand. Something bad happened, and you were hit with an intense wave of dread.

A few more people exited from the main entrance to your building, some talking with one another while others were on the phone. You could hear sirens in the distance, too and already knew emergency response was on the way.

Amongst the crowd assembling outside, you spotted Gwyn and Ivy, a couple that lived a few doors down from you and Penny. The two girls had become great friends of yours in the three years you’d lived in that building, and were two very important people to Penny. You immediately scooped Penny up, then called their names as you made way toward them. Bucky wasn’t far behind.

“Y/N!” Ivy exclaimed, relief washing over her features as she tapped Gwyn’s arm and pointed to you approaching.

“And Penny,” Gwyn said, also looking relieved. “Gosh, we’re so glad you two are ok.”

“What happened?” You asked nervously.

Gwyn and Ivy glanced at each other before Gwyn responded.

“There was a break-in. Only one unit was hit, but whoever did it caused a commotion before they left. It was very obviously targeted. Police are on the way.”

“Oh, my-. Is everyone ok? Nobody was hurt, right?”

“No, no one was hurt,” Ivy explained. “But, Y/N, babe, the unit hit was yours and Penny’s.”

Your breath hitched, and your heart started racing. Entering a fight or flight mode, your mind started racing, thinking of reasons why anyone would target you and Penny. After a quick moment, you thought back to the guy staring at you in Central Park before seemingly vanishing into thin air, and your heart dropped.

“Y/N?” Gwyn asked softly, noticing how you paled.

You shook your head, then stepped toward her and Ivy.

“Could you two please watch Penny?” You asked, then passed Penny to Gwyn before she or Ivy could respond. “Keep her in the crowd of people, there’s safety in numbers. I need to go up there.”

“Wait, Y/N, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Gwyn replied, but didn’t try to give Penny back. “The cops will be here any minute.”

“This can’t wait. But I refuse to take Pen up there.”

Gwyn went to speak again, but Ivy beat her to it.

“Of course,” Ivy said. “Do what you need to do. We’ve got Penny.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, then looked at Penny. “I’ll be right back, bubba. I promise. We’ll be ok.”

Penny seemed unconvinced as she shook her head.

“No, mommy,” she pleaded while reaching for you as you stepped backwards.

“I promise, baby.”

You quickly blew her a kiss, then turned and rushed away from the crowd and toward the building's side entrance so no one would try to stop you from going inside. It killed you hearing Penny call after you, but there was no way in hell you were taking her near whatever awaited upstairs at your apartment.

A pair of footsteps followed closely behind, and you didn’t even need to look to know that it was Bucky.

“What’re you thinking?” He asked, catching up to you with ease.

“There was a guy at the park,” you explained and pressed your key fob against the reader so the side door to the building would unlock. “I only spotted him briefly, but he was watching me and Penny. I thought it was nothing, but this break-in is making me think he’s connected to it somehow.”

Bucky nodded in understanding while he went through the doorway after you.

“You always did have an insanely good intuition.”

“That’s what happens when you date an Avenger for as long as I did, I guess.”

“Funny,” Bucky responded as the two of you speed-walked through the empty lobby. “What floor?”

“12th,” you told him as you approached the elevators, and he branched off toward the door leading to the stairwell. “Unit 1204.”

“Got it. I’ll meet you up there.”

“Whatever you say, Super Soldier.”

You knew Bucky would be upstairs long before the elevator, making you feel silly for having to take it. But, at the same time, you didn’t care. There were bigger things to worry about.

A few torturous moments later, the elevator doors dinged open on the 12th floor, and you wasted no time hanging a sharp right after stepping off of it so you could head in the direction of your unit.

Bucky was there already, as expected, but for some reason, he didn’t even glance at you from where he stood in front of the door to your apartment.

“Buck?” You asked as you continued approaching, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he continued staring at the door, completely rigid. “Bucky, what is it?”

He remained silent as you got closer, which confused you more. When you finally reached Bucky, though, you got your answer for his sudden odd behaviour. It was nothing you could have ever predicted, and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your mouth when you saw what he was staring at.

Before you, carved threateningly into the wood of your apartment door, along with obvious signs of a break-in, was a large circle with a freshly painted red star in the middle of it.

The symbol of the Winter Soldier.

taglist 🫶🏻: @avengersfan25 @wonwoosthetic @xprloki @ordelixx @cherrypieyourface @xhazzz @avafaustus @lazyneonrabbitt @lovely-seb @a-book-lover-things @herejustforbuckybarnes @capswife @avivarougestan @vicmc624 @sebastians-love @chiyayaa @mcueveryday @buckysdoll1940 @mattyblover07 @alicetesser @counterstr1ke @frogalor @harry-and-ouis28 @imjusthere1161 @princesschyanne @raniatsala @frogalor @counterstr1ke @ozwriterchick @sleepysongbirdsings

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader

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jiuwaves · 2 days ago

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I Think About It All the Time.

pairing: kwon jiyong x reader warnings: none that i could think of c: note: track 14 of the brat summer challenge! thank uu @gdinthehouseee for letting me participate in this event <3 ‘‘What if I miss the chance to love fully, or create something lasting—like a family?’’

Walking down the shimmering streets of Tokyo, bathed in the golden hues of the late afternoon sun, you felt the steady warmth of your husband’s hand in yours. Your two-year-old toddler clutched your other hand tightly, their small fingers curling around yours with a determined grip as you three waddled ahead, eager to explore the sights and sounds of the bustling street.

The air was fragrant with the scent of cherry blossoms and freshly cooked street food, mingling with the soft hum of distant conversations and the occasional ring of a bicycle bell. Paper lanterns swung lazily from shopfronts, casting delicate shadows that danced on the pavement beneath your feet.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he said softly, his eyes drifting around the street before finally settling on yours.

“Yes,” you whispered. “It really is.” You said lifting your head to meet his gaze, seeing the gentle curve of his smile made your heart warm.

You three continued walking, your child now skipping between you and your husband, one small hand in each of yours only to stop when a quaint little pastry shop came into view—all warm wood, vintage tile, and a little bell that chimed every time the door opened. A glass display case sat at the front, glowing with soft yellow light, filled with cream puffs and fruit tarts.

You slowed your pace, glancing down at your baby girl.

“Are you hungry, baby?” you asked gently.

She nodded enthusiastically, pointing toward the strawberry shortcake behind the glass. “Cake!” she said, already pressing her face near the display.

“Ah—wait!” your husband called after her, laughing, quickly stepping in after her with a mock-serious.

You paused for a second, lingering just outside the pastry shop as your husband crouched beside your daughter, pointing out the strawberry tart she’d been eyeing. Her little hands pressed against the glass in wonder, eyes wide, cheeks flushed pink with excitement.

Watching them for a quiet moment, your heart filled with something slow and warm. The light was soft around them, golden and gentle, like the universe had wrapped your little family in its own private halo.

That was until—

“Excuse me—”

The voice came from behind you. Low. Gentle.

You turned slowly, to find Jiyong holding your daughters hair clip in hand.

“I think you dropped this,” he said, stepping forward. “It was just on the ground back there.”

You hesitated, not because of the clip—but because it was him. The last time you were with Jiyong, the last time you touched him, spoke to him, looked him in the eye—it was years ago.

But all that weight of that distance came crashing down all at once.

You reached out and took it, slowly. Like your fingers might betray how much they still remembered him.

“Thank you..” you murmured, your voice barely audible within the awkward silence that had slipped in between you two now.

“So… you live in Tokyo now?” He asked glancing down the street, then back at you.

“Yeah,” you said, wrapping the clip into your palm gently. “A couple years now.”

He shifted on his feet, eyes flickering over your expression like he was searching for familiar pieces. “I didn’t know. I mean—we haven’t really…”

You smiled faintly. “I know, it’s been a long time.”

Another silence. The kind that carries too many things.

Jiyong nodded, rocking back slightly on his heels. “You look… well.”

You tilted your head. “So do you.”

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t quite the truth either.

He looked like a man caught between two worlds, his expression a complicated mix of unhappiness and quiet acceptance. You could see the weight of what might have been pressing down on him, but beneath that, a subtle peace as if he had found his own way to be happy, even if it wasn’t the life he once dreamed of with you. But there was still something in his eyes—something unfinished, unsaid.

It was the kind of look that held both regret and resilience, a bittersweet reminder of the past lingering just beneath the surface. You studied him closely, searching for answers in the conflicted shadow behind his gaze.

And then—

“Mama!”

She was now standing next to you with a wide grin plastered across her face and a dollop of whipped cream smudged on the tip of her nose.

“Mama, come in!” she squeled out cheerfully, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Look! I got the strawberry one!”

You knelt down beside her, brushing a bit of cream off her nose with your thumb, the same way your mother used to do for you when you were little. Her cheeks were warm from the shop, and her tiny fingers still clutched the edge of a napkin-wrapped pastry.

“Sweetheart,” you said gently, “Can you go back inside for just a little bit? Mama will come in soon.”

She pouted for a second, clearly ready to protest, but you gave her a soft smile and smoothed her hair behind her ear.

“Just a minute, I promise.”

She seemed to consider it—until her gaze wandered over your shoulder.

And her finger lifted.

“Who’s that?” she asked, wide-eyed.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned your head towards Jiyong was standing still, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, staring at your daughter with an expression that could only be described as undone.

Like someone had just punched the air from his lungs and replaced it with a dream he wasn’t ready to wake up from.

Like he was trying to make sense of what stood in front of him, of who stood in front of him.

“A friend,” you said—too quickly. The words came out sharper than you meant, fragile and fast, like you were trying to pull a curtain over something already exposed.

You stood up, smoothing your coat with a shaky hand.

“Go on, baby,” you said gently, nudging your daughter toward the door. “Papa’s waiting.”

She looked up at you, confused for just a second. Then, obediently, she turned and skipped back inside, the little bell above the door jingling as she disappeared into the warm light of the shop.

And then it was just the two of you again, in the quiet with nothing left between you but the weight of a thousand unspoken things.

But even in the awkward silence, Jiyong’s eyes didn’t leave the door.

“She looks like you,” he said, finally. His voice was soft. Unsteady. It wasn’t a question, but it trembled like one.

You swallowed. Hard but said nothing.

“She’s… really beautiful,” Jiyong said, voice faint.

You nodded once, but neither of you moved.

The silence between you stretched—dense, taut, full of things that didn’t need to be spoken out loud. He looked away, toward the pastry shop window, watching the flicker of movement behind the glass. The warmth. The life you had now.

You followed his gaze, and for a second, you saw it through his eyes—your husband laughing as your daughter handed him a tiny spoon, her other hand still clutching the pastry. Her world was so small, so joyful. And you were part of it. You belonged in it.

You turned back to Jiyong. His expression was unreadable now. Closed off. Guarded.

“I should go,” you said quietly.

He didn’t answer. Just gave a short nod.

You took one last look at him—his face, slightly older but still familiar in all the places that mattered. Then you turned, walked to the door, and stepped back inside.

The bell chimed softly above you.

Taking your seat beside them, smoothing your daughter’s hair and stealing a bite from her strawberry tart. She giggled and leaned into your side. Warmth wrapped around you immediately—sugary air, the low buzz of conversation and your daughter’s high laughter.

Outside, through the window, Jiyong still stood where you left him. His hands were back in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched from the breeze. His gaze didn’t leave the shop, didn’t leave you.

He’d imagined this kind of encounter a thousand different ways—some painful, some forgiving, some full of anger or nostalgia or closure. But never this.

Never you in a life so far from him. So whole. So happy.

He blinked slowly, eyes tracing the window one last time. You were laughing now, head tilted back just slightly, your hand resting on your daughter’s small back as she smeared cream on her cheek again. Your husband leaned in, wiped it gently with a napkin. You looked at him with a kind of love Jiyong hadn’t seen in years. That kind of love people grow into. Not fall into. Not out of. It broke something in him. He hesitantly turned and walked away, slow and silent down the Tokyo sidewalk. The weight in his chest felt heavier with each step, like every moment of freedom he once protected had cost him something he couldn’t name back then.

And now—now he knew.

He shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets as the sun began to set, casting everything in soft gold.

For a long time, he walked without destination. Head down. Thoughts spinning. That image of your daughter—laughing, beaming, calling for you—playing on loop in his mind like a memory he’d never get to claim.

What if we had tried?

Would I have been enough?

Did I wait too long?

Did I lose the only thing that ever felt real… because I thought I had time?

The city buzzed faintly outside, indifferent, unbothered as jiyong exhaled, long and low, and ran a hand down his face.

As if it might somehow wipe the ache away. But it didn’t. It never would.

He had chased freedom—freedom from the past, from pain, from expectations. He had chased his dreams with everything he had. But in doing so, he had let the moments that mattered most slip away. He told himself he wasn’t ready. That he needed more time. More space. More control over his life.

Now, time felt like a thief—stealing the chance to hold what he wanted most before it was gone forever. He wasn’t afraid of fatherhood itself. He was afraid of missing it. Of arriving too late.

Jiyong closed his eyes and felt the ache settle into a slow, steady burn. Maybe this was the price he had to pay for choosing his own path. But from now on, he promised himself, he wouldn’t let time slip by unnoticed.

Because some things—some people—only come once. Challenge Taglist @szonyix6277, @aizshallnotbefound, @sternilei, @lilshu65, @smokingblossoms

#bigbang x reader #g dragon #gdragon x reader #kwon jiyong #kwon jiyong x reader #bratsummerchallenge25

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dumbbandpoetic · 3 days ago

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☆ how they met!

popstar!reader x carmen berzatto

Everyone said that when she was in Chicago, she simply had to go to the Bear as her restaurant memory for the city. So of course, she’d booked herself a reservation. But the last few places she’d been at made such a big deal of her being there, that she decided to book this one under one of her friends’ names instead.

It didn’t matter. As soon as she walked in, Richie recognised her immediately. Changed everything around so her group sat at the best table, pushed all the chefs to get the food out as quickly as possible each course. The entire kitchen was freaking out, except for Carmen. He didn’t understand all the pressure, because he already had so much pressure. What was a little more?

“Hey, excuse me.” She stood with Richie when he collected her bill, pursing her lips. “Our food was really great tonight. Like, really. Do you think I could go back in the kitchen and thank the chef?”

Nobody did this. It wasn’t allowed. Practically unheard of. But of course, Richie said yes anyway. He asked her to wait a moment and then yelled at everyone over the noise to get their shit together, because the VIP was coming back there.

Carmen was the only one still yelling by the time she walked in. Richie pointed him out as the one who had cooked their meals, so she walked behind him, tapping his shoulder. He looked over, obviously confused.

“That nice guy says you’re the chef who made our dinner. I just wanted to say wow. Really, wow. I’ve never had food like that before, so thank you so much.” She smiled sweetly, and despite himself, he felt his heart melting a little bit. “Nice to meet you.”

Before she turned to leave, she gave the chef a hug, something that rendered the whole kitchen completely speechless for once. And later, when he was tidying up his apron, he felt something in his pocket. Without him noticing, she’d managed to slip him a piece of paper with her phone number on it. And on top of that, she’d left a more than generous tip. Maybe he ought to text to thank her…

like and reblog to promote if you can!!! i appreciate everything i can get <3 also please drop reqs in my inbox! i already have one that's coming but more are always always welcome since i love this pairing right now

creds to kodaswrld for the dividers!

#┈﹒✧﹒popstar!reader #✧﹑emma's writing #fanfiction #fanfiction author #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx #the bear #carmen berzatto the bear #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you

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motzglorp · 3 days ago

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Just a little smoke - Part 3

Part 2

CW: Drug use, smoking weed, talking about effects of drugs, not much smut in this one, mdni, nsfw, 18+

"Hey, always wondered... Do you taste different, when you're high?" Soap was currently sprawled on your swing, head on Gaz' lap. You are still a bit surprised how you got here, sitting in your garden, surrounded by some very deadly, very disciplined men, smoking weed and having them observe you.

When Price came to your office the day after Ghost had learned about your habit, you expected to be interrogated or fired. Which was sad because you had warmed up to the 1-4-1 and they seemed to like you as well, inviting you to stay for a cold beer and a chat or asking you to join when Soap got a care package with delicious cookies from home.

Instead he had a proposition. Or a favour to ask you.

"You know that we fill an unusual position, that gives us more freedom than others and certain privileges regarding who we work with. When I requested you to be our main liaison here, that made you part of a very exclusive group of people who get our trust." He started and kept his eyes on your face, watching every reaction.

"I hope you trust us as well. As long as you are not compromised by it, your private time is your own. But it doesn't have to be."

Of course he registered your confusion and curiosity. You were incredibly professional but you also watched their training way more often than reasonable, stayed for a beer even if you barely drank, let Johnny hug you, as soon as you were a little bit tipsy.

"What do you.. Captain Price, could you be more specific? I'm afraid, I don't follow ..."

"We, the team, would like to spend time with you. Private time. Get to know you outside of work. As I said, we trust you. And to be frank, Ghost suggested that we could use a little bit of help with relaxing on our leave. Which happens to be the same time you are on leave."

You had no idea what he saw in your face but he seemed to like it, his voice almost turned into a purr. "The boys would be very grateful for a nice evening in a private garden or so."

"Grateful, you say..." You immediately had an idea how they could thank you and you just hoped you wouldn't ruin anything. "Let me think about it. And thank you for the paperwork."

After Price left you had spent half an hour thinking about any wild possibility this thing could go. And then made a list of things they had to talk about before doing this. Starting with food preferences, going through former experiences, expectations and emergency plans. With all of them being prime PTSD candidates you didn't want to risk anything.

It had been a few weeks, a mission putting your plans on hold, but you took the time to get to know them, talk to them and you found that you really liked them. More than a bit. But you knew to keep it professional, because you would not get your heart broken again. You had their trust and maybe friendship, that was enough.

And now they were here in your house, a perfect summer evening with dinner and stories, almost like they had done this before. But there was still the reason they were here in the first place.

"You can still say no." Price had said as you pulled out your stash, a beautiful box with all your tools. "Nah, I'm curious what you think. And what you want to know." It wasn't a lie, even though you were nervous. Ironic, since you knew the first draw would calm you down and it always made you feel like you were one step away from needing instead of merely wanting. Your hands moved without hesitation, grinding, rolling, licking the paper... You went classic today, best to start here for an introduction.

You felt their attention on you, watching your moves.

"Hmm, like the smell of it.. earthy sweet, it's calming" Ghost was sitting across from you at the table.

"Yeah, the scent and taste vary quite a bit depending on the strain. Some absolutely stink, I like this one because it reminds me of freshly cut grass and flowers." You lit the joint and inhaled, closing your eyes to savour the taste before you let out the smoke with a sigh, the act alone calming.

A few minutes later you knew your smile was a bit dopey and you felt that sweet buzz under your skin. Shit, you forgot that you got really cuddly with this one. Usually you were alone here, so it didn't matter, but now you were absolutely aware of Ghost's thigh under the table and his hand turning your grinder like a fidget toy.

"You do look even cuter now" of course Johnny was flirting. "More relaxed. Softer." You just wanted to describe how it fest, when Johnny dropped the next question.

"Hey, always wondered... Do you taste different, when you're high?"

"Some things" you started to explain, "Or it's more intense, it's not exactly different, more.. enhanced. Like you feel and taste details, you weren't aware before" is how you started but Johnny stopped you.

"No, I mean. When you eat asparagus and for a day you have that certain smell. Even your sperm, you know? Is it the same?"

Oooh, that question. Leave it to Soap to escalate a situation.

"Honestly, I don't really know, never put much attention to it. If you eat it, like in butter or brownies, probably. Guess you would have to find out yourself." You meant it like he would have to taste himself, but the moment you said the words you knew it was too late, four sets of eyes fokussing on you. Ghosts leg pressing against yours, his hand suddenly still as you looked up. "Whatever happens here, stays here, remember?"

You nod, suddenly the air is heavy and you are aware that you only wear your panty and a soft summer dress. "Not going to do anything you don't want to."

You nod again. So focussed on Ghost that you didn't notice Gaz moving over until a warm hand turned your face towards him. "May I kiss you?" A third nod, then soft lips on yours and you sigh into the kiss. Until that moment you weren't quite sure if you read the signs correctly but now the last bit of doubt vanishes. You trust them, you want them. So you open up, let Gaz taste you, leave you a bit breathless when he breakes the connection of your lips.

"Hmm, less smoke than kissing the captain" he grins, earning a huff from Price. "Maybe we should move this to a more comfortable position."

They move you, lead you to the blanket and pillows you had placed conveniently, since you liked to sleep outside sometimes. Soap and Gaz taking turns to kiss your lips, your neck, making a point of licking and biting to taste you. Until they have you where they want you, sitting between Ghosts thighs, leaning against his front, strong hands groping your hips, the fat of your tummy, holding you in place.

And if you had hoped it would come to this, then it was none of their business.

#putting this out so I can focus on the next part #cod #call of duty #tf 141 x reader #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #soap x reader #tf 141 x you #polyam tf141 #weed smoking #tw drugs

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j3llyc4kes · 2 hours ago

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summary: your criminal boyfriend sukuna who absolutely rocks your world in the best way possible. now you’re prison gf arc?

wc: uuhhh, 7k? i think..i yapped

cw: angsty, fluff, smut, mentions of guns, prison, drugs, etc. comfort at the end, pinky promise :3

you met ryomen sukuna through some mutuals. back when you were still smart. still cautious. some house party with peeling paint, shitty music. way too many bodies and way too many red solo cups.

you went with one of your girls yuki tsukumo—well, got dragged along. she was pointing people out, talking fast, already tipsy. you were half listening, half not giving a fuck.

then she leaned in, whispered over the rim of her drink,

“and that’s ryomen. don’t. he’s like crazy. like—jail time type shit.”

your ears perked up like a dog.

“jail time?” you asked. and then you saw him.

sitting on a shitty couch, red eyes. black tattoos on his face, crawling down the back of his neck, his arms, clearly all over. all ink and muscle and attitude. dragging a hand through a soft pink buzzcut, smoking a blunt. shirt half unbuttoned (thank fuck). tatted hands in his pockets like he could kill you or kiss you and you’d say thank you for both.

and to your surprise, he looked in your direction as you mindlessly walked to up him like you’d be shot by cupid. he smirked, looking you up and down—like he already knew you’d walk over.

“you lost?” his voice was low. rough. amused.

you shook your head. “nope.” sitting on his lap anyways.

and you swore it was just you being dumb. wanted a quick fuck, nothing more. you weren’t actually gonna fall for him.

after the first time you met him, it started slow. drinks, texts, late nights that blurred into mornings. you never asked what he did—not really. he never volunteered it. but the cash came easy. so what the hell right?

“you scared of me yet?” he asks you one night, voice low, fingers brushing your thigh while you sat in his lap, his gun cold against your lower back while it was tucked in his waist band.

you shake your head. “dunno, should i be?”

he grins. all teeth. “nah. i’d never hurt you.” and he meant it.

you always looked the other way when he left in the middle of the night. didn’t feel the need ask why he always checked the blinds twice. why he had two phones. why he flinched when a black SUV passed too slow.

because sukuna…he was surprisingly gentle. always held the door for you. always touched you like he meant it. he made you laugh when you didn’t want to, made you feel like the only girl in the world. took you out and never let you pay. took you home and made you feel safe, somehow, even with a gun or two on the nightstand.

you know he’s not a good man. you’re not stupid.

but he just looks so goddamn fine when he leans against the hood of his car, blunt between his lips, black hoodie clinging to his frame. the kind of man people cross the street to avoid.

i mean come on, he’s a criminal. a real one. not some fake ass who shoplifts and smokes mids. sukuna moves product, handles money, kills when he has to—cold, smart, ruthless.

but with you? he’s just so soft. always puts his gun on the counter before dinner. keeps his voice low when you’re tired. kisses the inside of your wrist and tugs you into his lap when you’re mad at him. carries you to bed when you fall asleep on the couch. rubs your feet without asking.

he kisses you so sweetly. calls you baby in that low voice like it’s a threat. you argue like you want to kill each other and fuck like you’re trying to bring each other back to life.

so when he comes home at night, blood on his clothes and that dead-calm look in his eye, and mutters, “need you to say i was with you tonight,”

you don’t ask. you just say: “yeah. course you were.”

(fuck it, we ball)

and some months later, he’s still in your bed. still eating all of your snacks, washing your dishes sometimes, kissing your neck with a kind of possessiveness that should be a red flag—but feels so green.

the thing is? he never lies to you. doesn’t even try to.

“i’m not clean,” he says one night, tracing tattoos along your thigh while the tv plays something neither of you are watching. “i do bad shit. and i’m not gonna stop.”

you probably should’ve left then. but instead, you kissed him.

and by the end of year one, you’re living in his apartment—scratch that, your apartment, because his name’s not on the lease. “can’t leave a paper trail, princess.” the place is cozy and yours. you got loud neighbors and a pitbull named akuma—big, gray, dumb as hell, and completely obsessed with sukuna.

“he’s gonna be a little menace to society,” you said when he brought the puppy home.

sukuna just smirked, kneeling down, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “takes after his dad.”

the three of you are like some fucked-up little family. your neighbors always side-eye you. your mom knows but chooses not to say anything anymore. and now your friends have stopped trying to talk you out of it.

and you stopped pretending you wanted out a loooong ass time ago.

fast forward to two years in: the fridge is covered in dumb polaroids. you brushing your teeth. him flipping off the camera. akuma in the middle, tongue out, wearing the stupid, gucci harness you swore was too expensive until sukuna said, “yeah, and?” and bought it anyway.

and now sukuna’s even got your name inked into the thick muscle of his forearm. right above those bold lines on his wrist.

“seriously? this isn’t like sharpie or something?” you’d asked when he came home from the tattoo shop that day.

he just smirked. “dead serious.”

when akuma jumps into bed and crushes your legs and sukuna tells him to get off but doesn’t mean it, when he presses his inked hand to your thigh while you’re watching a movie and says “gonna put a ring on it, you know that?”

you believe every word.

one day, you see the red and blue lights flash by in a blur out the window when he comes running inside the apartment—breathless—you don’t question him. idiot move but it’s because he always comes home. always throws his wallet and his keys on the counter and kisses your cheek like nothing happened. cooks dinner shirtless, muscles flexing while he flips the steak and washes his hands off in the sink.

you clean his knuckles. you patch his ribs. you kiss the crown of his head while he falls asleep on the couch with his arms around you and that’s all that matters.

but you notice how he’s been on edge. more late nights. tighter grip on your waist when you’re out. more checking the windows. more guns on the table.

“you trust me?” he asks later that night, voice low in the dark.

you’re in bed, curled against his side, tracing the black ink on his chest. akuma at your feet. his heart’s beating too fast.

you nod. “always, kuna.”

he exhales, fingers brushing over your spine.

“then no matter what happens—no matter who says what, or what you hear—you remember that. alright?”

you look up at him. search his face. “baby, what’s going on?”

he doesn’t answer. just kisses your forehead, holds you tighter.

a week goes by after that conversation. everything is almost perfect and then it’s not. it all happens so fast. it’s 2:26 a.m. quiet, maybe a little too quiet. then it’s not.

one minute you’re on the couch, hoodie on, legs tucked under you, sukuna’s head in your lap while a movie plays low in the background. he’s half-asleep, arm curled around your thigh, breathing slow like—for once—he’s letting himself rest.

then a crash. your front door kicked in. boots pounding down the hall. shouting—sharp, cold, barked like war commands.

“CLEAR.”

“LEFT SIDE.”

“MOVE MOVE MOVE—”

“HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!”

akuma is the first to react—your gray pittie, big and gentle and stupidly loyal—howling, barking like he’s ready to kill. but there are too many of them. someone yells to grab the dog. you scream his name, but they’ve already got him by the collar, dragging him back while he thrashes and whines. red and blue lights flash across the walls. guns drawn.

you’re frozen, shaking, the room is spinning.

you’re still processing—still trying to understand why there are rifles in your face. why they’re screaming your name. why they’re tearing through your drawers, your closet. why they’re grabbing sukuna’s burner phone, the rolled cash, the duffel bags, the box under the bed he told you never to touch.

sukuna’s already standing—calm. too calm. hands raised. jaw tight.

his gun’s on the coffee table. he doesn’t move. he just looks at you.

“listen to me. breathe. look at me. i told you—don’t forget, alright?”

you’re crying now. shaking. choking on air.

his eyes—sharp, red, unreadable—don’t move.

you lunge for him, but two officers grab you first and shove you against the wall. you’re screaming just trying to see him, but they’re in the way, shouting over you.

“wait—please, don’t hurt him!” you shake your head, blinking through tears, “he didn’t—he—what the fuck is going on?!”

“ryomen sukuna, you’re under arrest for organized crime, weapons trafficking, drug trafficking, assault with a deadly weapon—”

the words don’t sound real and it’s not like you didn’t know. you weren’t stupid. you just loved him too much to say it out loud.

as they read him his rights. he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t blink. he lets them cuff him—wrists behind his back, shoulders loose. they slam him into the wall and he still turns to find you.

and he’s smiling.

the cuffs are tight. your apartment’s destroyed. your dog is howling like he’s mourning a death.

but sukuna just smiles. like this is nothing. like he knew it was coming. which in hindsight, he tried to warn you something was coming.

his eyes stay on you, even through the flashlight beams, the chaos.

“it’s okay, baby,” he says, soft, just for you. “don’t cry.”

“sukuna—please, no—”

he keeps smiling. even as they start pulling him toward the door.

“i’ll be alright. i promise.”

and just before the hallway swallows him, just before the sirens drown it all out.

“baby,” he calls out again, louder this time. “look at me.”

you do, through the blur of tears, you do.

he’s got a split lip from how they man handled him, bleeding. his arms tensed behind his back. his face still calm.

“don’t worry, yeah?” voice steady. “they’re just doing their job. i’ll be fine.”

“b-but you promised—” your voice breaks. “you promised me—”

“i know.” he nods. and for the first time, the smile slips. just for a second. “i know, baby. i’m sorry.”

they drag him out towards the squad car. akuma’s losing it—thrashing against the grip on his collar, trying to follow him. you collapse to the floor, sobbing. akuma finally escapes from one of the officers and pushes his head into your side, whining like his heart’s breaking too.

as you look around, they’re bagging everything. phones. files. guns. bricks. a woman in a black blazer reads off inventory like she’s listing groceries. her voice is calm. efficient. it makes you want to scream.

while you’re left on the floor—sobbing, shaking, clutching your dog while your whole life gets zipped into evidence bags. and all you can hear is his voice, still yelling from outside:

“don’t fuckin’ touch my girl or my dog—you hear me?!”

you stare past the officer crouched in front of you, not even hearing him anymore—just watching sukuna get shoved into the back of a squad car.

and just before the door slams, he shouts, “i love you, y’know that? i’ll come back.”

the door closes.

all that was left was the mumbling of officers as they raided your apartment. after that, they take you down to the station. they question you for hours but they don’t have anything on you nor do they any info from you.

you were smart. loyal. quiet. just his girlfriend, just the love of his life. you didn’t know a damn thing. you were with him on this day. and that day. you gave them alibis for everything they tried to pin on him.

never flinched. never snitched. you held the line.

and when they finally let you go, hours later—bleary-eyed, fingers trembling, walking back into the wreckage of what used to be home—akuma’s waiting by the door. his tail thumping, eyes wide, like he doesn’t know how to stop looking for him.

and neither do you.

couple months down the line, it’s his court date. it’d been painfully long. phone calls, visits here and there but it was finally time for his sentencing.

you had gotten there early. standing in a corner, speaking with his defense attorney.

but as the time passed, the courtroom felt cold and quiet in that fake, choking way.

you’re sitting stiff in the second row, all black—tight dress, heavy coat, heels loud on the tile when you walked in. hands gripping the edge of the bench, white-knuckled as you waited.

your eyes lock on him the second he steps into the room.

sukuna walks in wearing shackles like they’re fucking jewelry. orange jumpsuit unzipped just enough to show the ink crawling up his chest. wrists cuffed, ankles too, chain connecting them down the middle.

he’s smirking like this is a joke. like he already knows how it ends. then his eyes land on you. his girl.

“hey, baby. you look good.”

“shut the fuck up,” one of the guards snaps, yanking the chain forward.

you don’t flinch. you don’t even speak. you just watch him walk to his seat like he owns the place.

he sits back like it’s a poker game. his leg bouncing, smiling. those red eyes scan the room once, like he’s bored.

then it begins. and soon enough, the judge starts reading the charges.

violent, serious shit. none of it exaggerated even a little bit.

organized crime. trafficking. assault. illegal weapons.

which again, you know what he did. you knew before the cops ever did. meanwhile everyone in the room looks at him like a monster but not you.

you don’t even blink when the jury says “guilty” after every charge and neither does he.

the judge ends the trial with his sentence, “twenty-five years. eligible for parole in seven.”

the courtroom breathes in like it just took a punch. and sukuna? sukuna just laughs. real fucking loud, ugly and real. he throws his head back like he’s in on some joke no one else gets.

the judge bangs the gavel. some man yells at him to shut up and stop laughing, the guards move fast.

he just grins through all of it then turns his head toward you, mouth split in that same damn smirk.

“still gonna write me, baby?” he calls, smug, voice booming off the walls.

you nod once—sharp. you could care less who sees.

the guards haul him up, start dragging him toward the side door. he doesn’t resist. just keeps smiling at you like he already knows you’ll be there tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. and he’s right.

the truth is, the charges could’ve been a hell of a lot worse. they had enough to bury him alive but you? you were a fucking godsend. every little lie was perfect. you lied through your goddamn teeth. all the fake alibis, timelines, pretending not to know what half the shit in your apartment was—had worked. even after they grilled you for hours. days. tried to shake you, to get you to break.

but you never gave them shit. you kept your voice steady, your story straight and your love for him ironclad.

and it worked. it could’ve been 40 years to life. it could’ve been no parole. it could’ve even been you, too. but here you are—still free. he’s not. but he’s still yours.

and seven years later? he’s still yours.

sure, he’s missed holidays. birthdays. every new year’s kiss. but every thursday at 3:00pm? you’re there.

you’re used to the routine now. first your ID, patdown, metal detector. pretty boring stuff.

at that point, you knew every guard by name.

you’ve done this a hundred times—plastic chairs, shitty vending machine coffee, body searches.

you don’t care because the second he walks into the visitation room everything else fades out.

he’s bigger now. broader. face leaner, eyes sharper—darker in a way that says time has passed, and prison doesn’t change people so much as refine them. orange jumpsuit rolled to the waist, white tank clinging to his chest, black ink crawling up the back of his neck like smoke.

and that grin—dangerous. crooked. just for you.

“fuck, baby,” he drawls, sliding into the seat across from you. “you get hotter every time i see you. is that a new lip gloss?”

you roll your eyes. “you gonna flirt or ask how i’ve been?”

he shrugs, smirking. “same thing.”

still cocky. still loud. still him but the edges are tighter now. more controlled like every second without you has been simmering under his skin.

there were times you’d talk. about nothing. about everything. he tells you about prison like it’s high school drama. you tell him about bills, work, new TV shows, keeping the bed warm for him. he listens like every word matters. like you’re the only real thing in his world.

“are you wearing that chain i sent you?” he asks.

you tug it out from under your hoodie—a little silver bar with his name engraved.

his grin widens. “of course you are, don’t know why i even asked.”

and sometimes, when the guards aren’t looking, he leans in close. voice low, filthy, just for you:

“you gonna let me fuck you in the conjugal trailer next month?”

“still think about that pretty little body when i fall asleep.”

“i’m gonna come home and ruin you. you know that, right?”

you squeeze your thighs together. he sees. smirks. and of course the smug bastard is proud of himself.

and sometimes it’s quiet. just the sound of your fingers tapping on the metal table. he stares at your hands like they mean something.

“seven years,” he mutters. “and you’re still here.”

you shrug. “you’d do it for me.”

he lifts a brow. “would i?”

you give him a look.

he laughs—low, warm and real. “yeah,” he says. “yeah, i fuckin’ would.”

there’s no kissing here. no touching past a handshake, a goodbye but the way he looks at you?

you feel it everywhere.

and one day, just as the guard calls time, just as he stands and stretches and leans in a little closer than he’s supposed to—

he murmurs, voice quiet, steady. “marry me when i get out.”

you blink. “what?”

but he’s already turning away, that same old grin tugging at his mouth, shouting something crass to another inmate, hands cuffed behind his back.

the door slams shut behind him.

and you’re left sitting there, heart pounding, chain warm between your fingers, replaying those words in your head.

the next time you see him, he walks in wearing that ugly-ass orange jumpsuit as usual, smile already stretching across his face the second he sees you.

“look at you,” he says, voice low and filthy despite the guards. “dressed all nice for your criminal boyfriend.”

you roll your eyes. “you asked me to.”

“yeah. and you listened. you always do” he leans in. “always such a good girl for me.”

the tension’s thick. his wrists are cuffed, but his eyes are on you like he’s already got his hands around your throat.

“heard the news?” he asks casually, voice like honey dipped in gasoline. “early release. next month.”

your breath catches. “wait, are you serious?”

“mmhm.” he leans back, tongue flicking over his teeth. “good behavior.” he grins. “just for you.”

he’s been cleaning up—no fights, no smuggling, no stabbings in the yard, even though he wants to. because he wants to see you again. wants his hands on you. his mouth. wants you under him, not across the table.

“been thinkin’ about what I’m gonna do to you first,” he says, voice lower now, eyes burning. “once i get out.”

you swallow and shift in your seat. “are you gonna behave?”

he laughs. full-bodied, dark. “fuck no. i’m gonna ruin you.”

he leans forward, chained wrists clinking on the table, eyes locked on yours.

“i’ve been locked up seven years, princess. do you know how much time i’ve spent thinking about that sweet little body under mine?”

you feel your cheeks heat, but you don’t look away.

“you better be ready,” he says, voice rough now. “’cause i’m gonna spend the first night out fucking you like i’m tryna get sent right back.”

so thankfully, he’s the kind of inmate that runs the damn yard but keeps his nose clean just enough to qualify for early release. he did beat someone’s ass in the showers last month for talking sideways about you—but still managed to earn “good behavior” by bribing the guards and running literacy programs like a deranged philanthropist.

next time you hear from him he calls you from the jail phone with that lazy, smug tone:

“two more weeks. then i’m home. you ready for that, princess?”

“depends. are you gonna kill anyone again?”

“no, baby. i’m a changed man, pinky promise.”

a pause. “unless they touch you.”

but life as a prisoner’s girlfriend had been interesting to say the least. some your favorite memories though?

the video call visits. the video calls hit different.

you answer from the bed, in his hoodie that thankfully still smelled like him, all soft lighting and skin and love in your eyes.

the screen flickers—and there he is.

inmate #966666. your man. arms crossed, face lit by the shitty fluorescent light in the visiting block. buzzed short on the sides, salmon pink thick on top. face tattoos sharp even in pixelation. smirking. cocky. starved.

“there’s my girl,” he rumbles, leaning in like he’s trying to reach through the screen. “lookin’ all cozy in our bed.”

you smile, soft. “missed you today.”

he leans back, legs spread, grinning. “yeah? say it again.”

you roll your eyes, giggling. “missed you.”

“mm,” he hums. “missed you more, baby. how’s our place lookin’? bought anything new for me to come home to?”

and you have—so you flip the camera around, showing off the new record shelf, the little framed photo of you two from before, and the rug you’ve been saving for.

“can’t wait for you to see it for real,” you say quietly. “can’t wait till you come home.”

his face softens—just barely. eyes half-lidded.

“me neither, princess. every night i picture it. you. the apartment. our bed. my hands all over you again.”

you bring the camera back to yourself, and akuma sits up on the floor beside your bed, tail thumping.

sukuna lights up like a kid on christma.

the dog perks up at his voice, sniffs the screen, tail going harder.

“yo, come here, big man,” he coos. “you takin’ care of my girl, huh? keepin’ her warm at night? …better not be sleepin’ on my fuckin’ pillow.”

you both laugh. but you already know when sukuna gets out, he’s picking that big soft baby up in his arms like it’s nothing, and probably crying into his fur when no one’s looking.

and the letters? worth framing.

he sends them folded perfectly, sprayed with just a hint of your favorite cologne. immaculate. front-and-back, always. tight, clean handwriting. detailed as hell—how he’s doing, what he’s thinking about. sweet shit like “wish i could hold you right now. need it bad.” and spicy shit like: “wanna fuck you face-down ass-up the minute I’m out.” “was dreamin’ about you last night. woke up hard. you owe me.”

one of his first letters had said:

hey baby, how are you? miss you real bad. i woke up thinkin’ about your laugh. that one that comes out when you’re tryin’ not to snort. i miss it. miss you. drawn your face from memory like four times now. don’t tell nobody, they’ll say i’m gettin’ soft. been missing your smell. you smell like home. that sweet vanilla shit you always put on. i look at your pictures every night. even got one under my pillow. even when they toss my cell, i hide it like it’s fuckin’ contraband. you’re my peace. can’t lose you princess.

then they’d switch, just like that.

you know, i thought about that one night. you dancing in the kitchen, making soup, wearing those little shorts. you remember the ones? yeah. me too. that’s why i wrote this with one hand. also last night i laid in this goddamn bunk and imagined the sound you make when you take your bra off after a long day. hard as a rock. you’re such a fuckin’ problem. do you still wear that lacey one i like? the one that barely holds anything? bet your titties are sittin’ real pretty in it right now. fuck me.

i miss how you say my name when you’re tired. i miss how you say it when you’re on top. i miss your thighs around my neck. i miss your mouth. i miss being inside you so deep you forget your own fuckin’ name.

but more than that? i miss watching you eat dinner across from me. i miss you bitchin’ about your coworkers. i miss your fingers in my hair when i can’t sleep. i don’t give a fuck how long it takes, you’re it for me.

and he always had a sketch tucked inside. sometimes it’s little things—your side profile, your body. or sharp, shaded tattoos—ones he designed for you. (something he did on the side when he was still a law abiding citizen). his name in kanji. a snake coiled around a katana surrounded by lilies.

this one’s for your spine. wanna see it when i fuck you from behind.

then, right under that like he didn’t just make you cry and wet at the same time:

…also. take it easy at work. remember to eat. and kiss akuma for me. shit, also, can you put some extra on my books? tryna get you something for your birthday. don’t ask what. it’s not a weapon, swear.

and you do—put money on his books, no hesitation. commissary’s got nothing on you. he’s got honey buns, decent ramen, and the best soap on his block. your man is moisturized and fed. period.

and at the end of a long, loving, slightly filthy letter, he always signed in that perfect script: “ryo. always yours.”

you kept every letter in a shoebox under your bed, every sketch on your corkboard. you read them on bad days. and good ones.

you always wrote back, too— keeping him updated with everything. little doodles, lipstick kisses on the envelope, spritz of perfume here and here. snuck in polaroids of you and akuma. even some spicy ones for his eyes only. always signed with “your/name, always & forever <3.”

oh and those conjugal visits? they most deeeefinitely take the cake.

you had waited weeks for them, marked off in red hearts on the calendar.

one of the first visits:

you walk into that little cold-ass private trailer with a bag packed—cute pajamas, your favorite lotion, that perfume he likes. he’s already there when you arrive, looking like sin in his real clothes. not that orange jumpsuit he’s usually in. eyes glued to you the second you step in.

then he softens. just a little.

you stand. don’t even say anything. just walk straight into his arms. he buries his face in your neck, breath catching like it’s the first inhale he’s had since they locked the door behind him.

“fuck,” he mutters. “you smell good. gonna feel even better.”

his hands are everywhere. rough palms on your waist, your thighs, your ass. lips dragging over your skin like he’s starved—and he is.

he grabs your waist fast, pulls you in for a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth, rough like he’s been starving for you.

“got something to show you,” you whisper, breathless already.

you turn around, pull your dress up, and tug the side of your thong down just enough to show him—

small script. his name. right cheek. close to the curve of your hip.

he goes still. his hand on your ass, thumb dragging right over it. then he finally speaks.

“nah, what the fuck,” he laughs, eyes wide, voice shaking. “you got my name tatted on you?”

you look back over your shoulder, smiling.

“been had it. waited to show you in person.”

his hands are now rubbing all over you, gripping that ass with both hands like it’s his last meal. but then, he’s got you onto the bed so fast the mattress groans. pulls your dress over your head and yanks your panties down. he stares like he’s looking at something holy.

“missed this mouth,” he groans, spreading your legs, licking up your slick with a filthy moan. “missed how fuckin’ sweet you are when you’re beggin’.”

you gasp, already squirming.

he fully buries face between your thighs, hands gripping your waist like he’s starving and hasn’t had a real meal since he got locked up. moaning into your cunt, licking like it’s his last day alive.

“taste like fuckin’ heaven,” he groans. “missed this fuckin’ pussy so bad. missed how you sound when i’m inside you.”

after a two or three orgasms from his tongue and fingers, he finally fucks you. it’s deep, rough, desperate. your legs around his waist, your back arching off the mattress while he pounds into you like he’s making up for lost time. his tip hitting that sweet spot repeatedly in your pussy that makes your body take a fucking screenshot. teeth on your neck, fingers digging into your hips right below where his name is inked into your skin.

he just mutters filthy shit in your ear:

“you got my name on you, and now you’re gonna take all of me.”

“this ass? mine.”

“gonna fuck you so good you dream about it ‘til the next visit.”

then he flips you both, makes you ride him, sucking your tits while they bounce, eyes half-lidded.

“shiiiit, sweetheart—gonna fuck a baby into you in this nasty little room if you’re not careful,” he grits.

and you just moan louder, hands in his hair, riding the edge of pure bliss.

“missed you,” you whisper, staring up at him, cradling his face.

he kisses you. hard. filthy. then soft.

he pulls away breathless. jaw slack, panting like a dog in heat.

“fuck, baby—come on. gimme that shit. come all over my dick. show me how much you missed it.”

you do. messy. loud. milking him for all he’s got.

and he follows right after, hands gripping your ass so hard they’re sure to leave bruises as he cums deep and desperate.

and when he’s done, he kisses your neck, arms wrapped around you.

“gonna marry you when i get out,” he whispers. “i swear.”

you both lie on the tiny mattress after some much needed TLC. tangled up, his head between your tits, your fingers in his hair. he traces your tattoo with his fingers.

“gonna take care of you right, when i get out,” he murmurs, voice rough. “no more bullshit.”

you kiss his jaw. whisper back. “i know.”

and when you left that day, sore and glowing, your man watched you walk away as the guards put the cuffs back on him, mouth curled into a grin, voice low like a promise:

“keep my side of the bed warm, baby. i’m comin’ home. promise.”

and the day he gets out, you’re already there.

you’re standing by the gate before the sun’s even up. his hoodie on, necklace with his name around your neck. you’re trying to play it cool, but your hands won’t stop shaking.

and when that gate finally opened, when ryomen sukuna steps out, a free man, tattoos gleaming in the morning light, black tee hugging his chest, hair grown out just a little, grin already forming.

you don’t even get a word out before he grabs you, spins you around like a goddamn princess. his hands firm on your waist, lifting you like you weigh nothing, face buried in your neck.

“fuck, baby,” he breathes. “missed you so fuckin’ bad.”

you’re laughing. crying a little. arms wrapped around his shoulders so tight it hurts.

he sets you down, but barely. just enough to kiss your cheeks, your jaw, your nose, and then he pulls back, still holding your face like it’s precious.

“you ready?”

you blink. “for what?”

he grins. big. so sure.

��courthouse. thirty minutes away. judge’s on lunch break. said he’ll squeeze us in.”

you blink again. “wait, the fuck? are you—you’re serious?”

“sweetheart,” he says, already dragging you toward the car, “i’ve been locked up seven fuckin’ years. i’m so serious.”

cut to an hour later: courthouse.

fluorescent lights. ugly tile. fake bouquet from the clerk’s desk in your hand. cheap rings in a little box you picked up from the nearest pawn shop on the way there. you didn’t even have time to change. he didn’t care. not even a little.

“you look perfect,” he mutters, adjusting your hoodie like it’s designer couture. “i’m gonna wife you up in my hoodie. that’s so hard.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re such a dumbass.”

“your dumbass now,” he grins emphasizing the your. “permanently.”

you say your vows that came straight from the heart in a cheap government office, between a sleepy officiant and a laminated “no food or drink” sign.

but he looks at you like you’re in a white dress on a mountaintop.

he kisses your hand when he slides the ring on.

says “’bout fuckin’ time,” loud enough that the clerk snorts.

and when they say “you may now kiss—”

he doesn’t wait. he pulls you in, kisses you like he’s trying to breathe through you. it’s deep and messy and a little bit desperate.

you giggle against his mouth.

he presses his forehead to yours, still grinning.

“mrs. ryomen fuckin’ sukuna,” he says proudly. “finally.”

you walk out as husband and wife.

he pulls you in by the hips and kisses you again in the parking lot, hands low, grin wide.

“made good on that promise, yeah?”

you decide not to do anything fancy. no champagne. no five-star dinner.

you celebrate the only way you know how—greasy as hell.

just burgers and fries at that little place you used to talk about in letters and phone calls—the one with the neon sign and checkered floors. sukuna orders double everything, and he’s across from you in sweats and an ankle monitor, eating like a man who forgot what real food tastes like.

he steals your fries when you’re not looking. you slap his hand.

he smirks. “married now, baby. my fries too.”

you share a milkshake. vanilla. extra whipped cream. two straws.

he stares at you across the table like he still doesn’t believe you’re real.

“you know i dreamed about this?” he says, voice rough from grease and emotion. “used to lay there and think about you, right across from me, doing this exact same shit.”

you smile. press your foot against his under the table.

“dream about the milkshake or me?”

he snorts. “both. obviously.”

he takes your hand and kisses your ring finger, red eyes locked on yours and filled with so much love.

and when you finally drive home—real home—his leg’s bouncing the whole way. you both get off the car and head up the steps and you unlock the front door.

“you sure he’s not gonna bite me?”

you snort. “you’re the one who taught him to go for the ankles.”

the apartment is quiet when you pull up. it’s familiar to him, but different. newer furniture. he’s seen it all in video calls but it’s different in person now. his shoes aren’t by the door anymore, but everything else—everything you—is still here. still home.

he hesitates at the threshold. just for a second. like he’s afraid it’ll vanish if he walks in. but then—

“AKUMA!” you call out, voice soft but firm.

and there’s the sound of scrambling paws, claws on the hardwood, and then akuma’s there—gray, stocky, a little older, but still full of love and joy.

the pitbull barrels into the room like he’s about to tear through the walls, skids to a stop, and freezes when he sees him.

sukuna kneels down, slow, whispering. “…yo.”

akuma just stares at first—like he’s short-circuiting. akuma sniffs the air. tail wags once. then again. and then he launches.

sukuna catches all 70 pounds of him like it’s nothing, falling back onto his ass with a grunt as akuma licks at his face like he’s trying to put seven years of love into one minute.

“fuck—okay, okay—goddamn—” sukuna’s laughing, arms tight around the dog’s back, fingers gripping his fur like he’s afraid he’ll disappear again.

akuma’s whining, tail a blur of chaos, body wriggling like he can’t get close enough.

and sukuna—your big, bad, tatted-up, ex-convict husband?

he fucking cries. silent at first. then not. (expected)

his shoulders were shaking, arms wrapped tight around the dog, forehead pressed to his fur.

you just watch from the doorway. hands over your mouth. heart splitting. he looks up at you, eyes wet.

“fuck, baby,” he says, voice cracking. “i didn’t think—i didn’t know if—”

you kneel beside him. touch his back. “he never stopped waiting,” you whisper. “neither did i.”

he pulls you both in—you and akuma—his whole world in his arms now. big, calloused hands around your waist. akuma draped across your laps like a living blanket.

you sit beside him. curl against his side.

“god, y/n, you—fuck—i…,” he whispers into akuma’s fur. “didn’t think i’d get to see you again.”

and for the first time in seven years, sukuna lets himself feel safe.

after you both settle in, it’s quiet now. real quiet. not prison quiet.

no locks clanking. no cell doors slamming. no count. no cold tile or shitty mattress. home quiet.

you’re both clean—fresh from a hot shower, towel-dried hair, his hands all over you the entire time like he couldn’t believe you were real. when he brushed his teeth, he kept making jokes about “first night as a free man, i’m getting minty for my wife.”

his wife.

he’s got everything he dreamed about for the last seven years. sheets that smell like you. a real bed. a dim lamp in the corner next to a photo of you, him & akuma.

and you—standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts and a look that says finally.

the ring glints on your finger in the dark. he exhales like he’s never really breathed before. he sits on the edge of the bed for a while. just stares at the wall.

you don’t rush him. you know what’s going on in that handsome head of his. this is the place he got arrested in. the same room they tore apart. same windows, same shadows.

“seven years,” he murmurs. “first night back in my bed.”

you walk over. slow. crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

“our bed,” you whisper.

he swallows. hard. hands settling on your hips.

eyes drinking you in like he can’t believe you’re real. like maybe he’s still dreaming in some concrete box.

“you’re my wife,” he says, voice thick. “fuckin’ wife.”

you smile against his lips. “so make me feel like it.”and that’s all it takes.

he kisses you hard—mouth desperate, like he’s catching up for all the years he couldn’t. he pulls your shirt over your head, kisses the top of your chest first, then lower. his hands are everywhere. reverent. hungry. he grabs your thighs, flips you onto your back, crawls down between your legs like he’s starving.

and he is.

he pulls your panties off with his teeth. kisses your inner thighs like he’s praying. then licks into you, slow and deep, groaning when your fingers tangle in his hair.

“sweetest fuckin’ thing,” he murmurs against your pussy. “missed this taste every night. used to jerk off thinkin’ about this right here.”

he eats like he’s got time to worship. not rough. not rushed. just…grateful. long licks, fingers curling inside, nose pressed to your clit until your thighs are shaking and your hips are grinding into his face.

“go ahead, baby. be a good girl and come on my face. it’s your first night as my wife. i got shit to prove.”

you come hard. breathless. crying out his name.

and he doesn’t stop. not until your thighs are twitching. not until he’s satisfied.

then he crawls back up, drags your mouth to his, lets you taste yourself on his lips.

“sit on it,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “wanna watch you ride me. wanna feel all of it.”

you straddle him, slow, sinking down onto his cock until you’re full—so fucking full it steals your breath.

he moans, head tipping back, gripping your hips, watching every inch disappear.

“my fuckin’ wife,” he breathes. “look at you.” you move slow at first, hands on his chest, grinding your hips like you’ve got nowhere else to be for the rest of your life.

and he loves it.

he’s got his hands all over you. one on your waist, the other cupping your breast, thumb brushing your nipple.

he fucks up into you, matching your pace, mouth dragging across your throat.

“seven fuckin’ years,” he pants. “you know how many times i dreamed of this?”

you’re shaking now. gasping.

“show me,” you whisper. “show me how bad you wanted it.”

he flips you fast—so fast—lays you down on his bed for the first time in seven years, and fucks you deep, slow, deliberate. the room filled with the most obscene sounds. bed creaking, the sweet, wet squelch of your pussy and his balls slapping against your ass.

he kisses your fingers. your mouth. your ring.

“mine,” he whispers into your neck. “forever. mine.”

you come again. this time with his name in your mouth and his hand locked with yours.

he follows right after—groaning low, buried deep inside you, face pressed to your chest. (definitely pregnant after that)

you collapse on top of him. he wraps you up. presses kisses to your hair. just lays there, breathing with you, forehead to yours, thumb brushing your cheek.

“thank you,” he whispers. “for waiting. for staying. for not giving up on me.”

no more grainy phone calls. no more visits. no more letters. just the two of you home with nothing between you but peace.

he rubs his hand over your back, voice soft.

“we’re good now, yeah?”

you nod, half-asleep. “mhm.”

“told you i’d come back.” he whispers.

after that, it gets quiet again. except akuma’s snoring in the corner like a damn freight train. the door’s locked. the city’s asleep.

and you’re in bed, legs tangled with your husband’s, skin warm from hours of sex and laughter and most of all—relief.

sukuna’s on his back, one arm around your waist, the other tucked behind his head.

he’s watching the ceiling like it owes him something, blinking slow, chest still rising a little too fast. like he can’t quite believe any of this is real.

you lean over him, kiss the ink on his collarbone.

he smiles—lazy and smug—as usual.

“what?” you murmur, tracing a line down his stomach.

he glances at you, eyes half-lidded. “just thinking.”

“oof, that’s dangerous.” you tease.

he huffs a laugh. “yeah.”

you wait and then he says it—quiet, almost like a joke.

“remember the party?”

you blink. “the one where we met. over some shitty, warm beer that toji picked up at the corner store?”

“mmhm.” he smirks, but softer now. “the one where yuki told you not to talk to me.”

you laugh. full and real. “‘don’t. he’s crazy, jail-time type shit.’”

“and you came and sat on my lap anyway.”

“i meeean, you were hot.” you shrug.

“and you’re an idiot.”

you smile, curl into his side, cheek resting on his shoulder.

he presses a kiss to your forehead, knuckles brushing your bare spine.

“guess i should thank your dumbass friend,” he mutters, voice low, already fading into sleep. “she’s the reason i met my wife. my ride or die.”

you smile and don’t say anything. you just hold him tighter, like you’re afraid he’ll disappear all over again.

two years in, then seven apart.

crime. then courtrooms. then shitty vending machine coffee. hundreds of letters and visits.

and now he’s here, tucked against your side, finally. fully.

yours in a way no one ever thought he should be.

you whisper, barely a breath. “guess you’re not so crazy after all, huh?”

he stirs—doesn’t open his eyes—but he hears you and with a rough, half-asleep laugh, he mutters.

“still fuckin’ crazy.”

then he kisses your shoulder, presses closer, and falls back asleep with his hand curled around your wedding ring.

you’re just starting to drift off—his breathing slow against your skin, your fingers still tangled in his hair—when the mattress shifts with a heavy thud.

then a groan.

“no. absolutely the fuck not—” sukuna mumbles, voice hoarse.

akuma, in all his 70-pound glory, launched himself onto the bed. sprawling across both of you like he’s claiming his spot. head wedged on your stomach, paws kicking into sukuna’s ribs.

you laugh, half-asleep. “aw, kuuuna. baby, he missed you.”

sukuna sighs, glaring at the ceiling.

“seven years in prison, and i come home to my traitorous cockblockin’ dog.”

akuma lets out a loud sigh and promptly starts snoring. loud and obnoxious.

you kiss his little boxy head and then sukuna’s temple, still grinning.

sukuna grumbles something under his breath—but his arm curls tighter around both of you.

and you’re pretty sure you heard him mutter the words, “thanks…whoever’s out there.”

:3 please check out my other works! here’s the master list! <3

a/n: this was pretty long! been sitting on this for about a month now, hopefully you all enjoyed it! let me know if i should continue this or leave it as is! t

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her0ine1983 · 1 day ago

Text

Lost in your touch

explicit rpf below, please don't interact if you are not comfortable with this MDNI!!!

description: After Joost's show in Berlin, you meet him by chance at a club there. It doesn't take much for you two to end up at your place, but the rest of the night goes a little differently than you expected. cw: alcohol, fingering, handjob, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv (pill mentioned), creampie, premature ejaculation word count: 5556

a/n: It wasn't supposed to take that long. I already had part of it written, so I figured finishing the whole thing would take me like two days, but nope... I got so into the story, I actually started feeling the characters' emotions for real and instead of just the pure porn I planned at the beginning, it turned into a mix of smut, angst and fluff all in one. There's no specific time setting, just imagine one of his shows taking place in Berlin. It doesn't have to be this one from the tour, no need to rush off to another city. This story touches on something that might be a pretty sensitive topic, but I've wanted to write about it for a while. We're all human, not robots, things like that can happen to any man, and nobody should be made fun of for it, please keep that in mind. Love <3

You can't believe this.

You can't believe this is actually happening.

It's the middle of the night, but you're buzzing with more energy than you've felt in ages. You still want to dance, to sing, to scream. You'd been counting down to his show ever since you and your friends decided to buy tickets months ago. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could've prepared you for this moment. Not even in your wildest dreams did you think you'd see him afterwards. Not in some random club in Berlin, of all places.

And there he is.

Joost. Standing alone on the other side of the bar, phone in one hand, drink in the other.

You try so hard to look away, you really do, but then he suddenly looks up, his face turning directly toward you. His eyes meet yours and he gives you a small, sincere smile that curls at his plump lips.

Fuck, there's no going back now. It's now or never. Heart pounding. Legs shaky. Mouth dry. You walk up to him slowly, trying to look cool and not like you're about to pass out.

"Your show tonight… was totally insane", you say, somehow managing not to stutter, trying not to blurt out something stupid and unnecessary.

Joost lets out a soft giggle, tilting his head like he's shy, like he's not used to compliments, even though you know girls throw themselves at him daily, constantly thirsting over him.

"Dankjewel. Thank you, I really appreciate that, thank you", he keeps repeating in the sweetest way possible, folding in half and patting his chest.

One thing leads to another, and before you even realize it, you're sitting on his lap, sipping some fancy, overpriced cocktail he ordered for you, nestled into the corner of the VIP booth he's sharing with his crew. And even though neither of you is drunk, you're both just tipsy enough to let yourselves blur the lines. Bold enough to go for more...

The dim, red lights paint his face in soft shadows as your fingers trail along the edge of his jaw, your other hand tangled in the messy, bleached strands at the back of his head. He's watching you now with his blue eyes, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, like he's waiting for your next move.

"What do you think about… us getting out of here? I mean… just you and me", you ask, out of nowhere, so eager to kiss him now, but not wanting to push your luck. Not here. Not so soon.

"You're so cute, it'd be a crime to say no", Joost murmurs in low, teasing voice, leaning in a little closer, trying to speak over a pounding music, "But we'd have to go to your place. I didn't bother with hotels this time, I'm crashing at Tantu's and... I don't think he'd appreciate walking in on us", he gives you a crooked smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief, like he's already picturing what's to come.

"Fine by me", you reply smoothly, feeling a subtle twitch in his pants, a silent confirmation that he wants this just as badly as you do.

You tip your glass back and down the rest of your cocktail while Joost throws one last glance toward his crew, raising his hand in a casual goodbye. You rush over to your friends, who are definitely going to ask questions later, and blurt out a quick apology, something vague about getting tired and heading home. Meanwhile, Joost is already on the phone, calling his driver.

"So... let's go, baby", he says just as a black car with tinted windows slows to a stop at the curb by the club's entrance. Joost steps forward and pulls the door open for you, flashing you that crooked little grin that makes your knees weak.

You slide onto the leather backseat as he settles in next to you, slamming the door shut behind him. He asks the driver to turn the music up a bit and angles his body toward you, placing his big, warm hand on your knee for a moment before deliberately sliding it up your bare thigh. His fingertips trace along your inner skin, moving gently, up and down, just barely brushing the seams of your shorts, making you let out a muffled gasp. Joost leans in close to your ear, whispering how beautiful you are, how badly he needs you, how you'll be screaming his name tonight. His words send a bolt of heat straight to your core and your thighs shake in response. You can already feel how wet you are and you're sure he does too.

You're seconds from throwing your leg over his and giving him a full access right here, right now, when the car suddenly shifts. With a slow turn, you finally reach your place.

As you step onto your floor, you're struggling to open your purse and get your damn keys out. The zipper's stuck and your trembling fingers aren't helping at all, especially with him standing behind you, his hands on your hips, kissing the side of your neck, pressing the rough fabric of his jeans right against your ass.

"Need some help, sweetheart?", he whispers into your skin, but before you can even answer, the zipper finally gives in.

You're both too desperate to waste even a second, so the moment you manage to unlock the door, you grab his wrist and pull him inside, leading him straight to your bedroom.

You kick off your boots, then pull off your top and bra in one swift motion, tossing them to the floor. Joost does the same with his Osiris shoes and white football tee. You fall back onto the bed as he leans over you, hovering with his tattooed arms on either side of your body, your bare chests barely touching, his silver necklace with a pearl pendant dangling above you. Your eyes land on the side of his neck, right where his Lola Bunny tattoo sits. The sight alone makes your mouth water. Without hesitation, you start leaving love bites on that sensitive spot, a little reminder of you and the night you're spending together, pressing your lips to his skin and sucking at the pulsing, visible veins. He hisses through his teeth from the sensation, but he doesn't stop you – he tilts his head just a bit more, giving you space, letting you mark his skin with your little work of art.

Soon after, his lips find yours in a kiss and you open your mouth in anticipation, thrilled to have him here, fucking Joost Klein, in your bedroom, leaving the scent of his body between your sheets. He's kissing you like he means it, deep and sloppy, sucking on your tongue, his wet muscle teasing your teeth while your fingertips drift lazily through the soft, light hair on his chest.

You know he's the freaky one, so there's no doubt he's going to do everything he promised you back in the leather backseat. This thought hits you just as you break the kiss to catch your breath. You glance up at his face, blue eyes now dark with lust, pouty lips swollen and stained with your pink lipstick, crooked glasses that you finally decide to take off and place on your nightstand. Still holding your gaze, he slides one hand along your side, slowly tracing every curve until he reaches your boobs, cupping them softly, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive, perked nipples.

"Godverdomme... je bent de mooiste, schatje", Joost groans against your collarbone, placing warm, open-mouthed kisses all over your chest, lingering on your nipples. You don't care if he says those same Dutch phrases to every girl he hooks up with – it doesn't really matter right now. The sound of sweet praises mixed with his eager touch makes your back arch as you pull him closer, fingers tangling in his curls, tugging gently, encouraging him to keep going. He's so impatient, so needy, his free hand already slipping lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts, craving more of you.

"Can I take it off now? I mean... this one too?", he asks, pointing at your panties peeking out from under your shorts.

"Yes, please", you smile, the words barely out before you're lifting your hips, giving him the green light.

Joost shifts up, dragging his hands down to your waist, warm and firm, before peeling both your shorts and panties down in one deliberate move, revealing your bare pussy. He stays there for a second, cheeks flushed, just staring like he's about to lose his mind. One of his hands comes to rest on your calf, nudging it gently to part your legs a little wider, just enough for him to fully take in the view. His fingers trail down to your folds and the moment he touches your sensitive bundle of nerves, you let out a quiet moan, then quickly bite it back, embarrassed.

"Hey, don't be shy, princess...", Joost chuckles, eyes locked on yours as his fingers move again, "I wanna hear all the sounds coming from that pretty mouth of yours...", you feel his digits, slow and messy, gliding through your already dripping heat.

He slides effortlessly over your clit, spreading the wetness in slick, sinful circles. It's obscene how easily his thick fingers disappear inside you – the middle one dips in first, shallow and teasing, just enough to make your back arch again. Then a second one follows and that's already too much – you gasp at the sudden stretch, your hips jerking forward, your whole body pulsing with pure eagerness. You lift yourself up slightly as you reach for him, hands wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull him closer, completely undone.

"Joost... fuck, can't wait anymore", you plead, voice cracking, "I wanna... I wanna feel you. I need you inside me... I need your cock. Now. Please…"

"Anything you want, liefje", he breaths, placing a kiss at the corner of your mouth in response, "You have any condoms?"

"No. But I'm clean. And on the pill. Please, Joost, trust me... I wanna feel you... feel you raw, please...", you whisper, watching his face closely to see if he really hears you, if he knows how badly you mean it.

You see the effect your words have on him instantly. He is already worked up, not just the flush on his cheeks, but the light sheen of sweat clinging to his skin, his damp bangs sticking to his forehead. And now? Hearing that from you? He looks like he might lose it completely. His eyes darken, jaw clenches and he swallows hard, visibly turned on even more. You feel the tension ripple through him, like he's trying not to come from just the idea of being inside you bare.

Joost gets out of your bed and you notice the way his hands move to his jeans – fingers trembling just slightly, fumbling at the button like he's both in a hurry and nervous all at once. And when he pushes his pants down, your breath stills.

His boxers cling to him, a wet stain darkening the front, and through the thin, black fabric you can see the full outline of his hard dick, begging to be touched. The moment he tugs them off too and lets them drop to the floor, your eyes drink in the sight.

Because his cock is beautiful – thick, veiny and big enough to make you scream. The tip, a soft shade of pink, glistens with a glossy bead of precum, catching the low light like something out of a dream.

As he stands in front of you, completely naked now, one of his hands moves instinctively to cover himself. There's a flicker of something vulnerable and awakward in his posture, like he's suddenly unsure of himself, like he doesn't quite know what to do with all that want burning through his body.

"Who's shy now?", you giggle, biting your lip, wondering what happened to that bold guy who had you melting in the backseat not even an hour ago. The one who said he was gonna fuck the shit out of you.

Joost crawls back into bed, and the second your fingers wrap around him, his cock jerks hard in your palm. You barely even touch him and he's already leaking, wet enough that your hand glides effortlessly along his full length. You stroke him slow, teasing, spreading his arousal up and down his shaft. The sounds your hand makes moving over him are downright filthy, filling the room with pornographic, sticky slaps. You don't need lube, you don't need anything, he's just this ready for you.

You give him a few more deliberate pumps and lean down, lips parting, ready to taste him, to have him sink into the warmth of your mouth... But his voice cuts through the tension.

"Don't– I mean…", he stutters, clearly struggling with himself, "Don't waste time... turn around. Get on your hands and knees for me..."

The command shoots straight through you. You love being taken like that – the angle, the way it makes your body feel owned, the way it lets him take everything single inch of you. So you oblige, thinking maybe he's not ready to look you in the eyes while he fucks you. Maybe he can't. But at least this way, he'll be able to reach you so deep.

You arch your back, putting yourself fully on display for him, and Joost lets out something between a groan and a curse. You hear the rustle of movement behind you, his breathing ragged as he grabs his cock, gives it a few slow strokes and lines himself up with your entrance. He's right there, thick and glistening, and when he presses just the tip inside, stretching you with a deliberate push, you gasp, aching for more. The way your body takes him makes him curse again under his breath. His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts forward just a little, trying to ease in deeper, to bury himself all the way inside you, but then he suddenly stops with a loud moan falling from his mouth.

"Shit... oh, shit! Fuck... shit, no, no.... no", he cries, voice shaking almost in panic. Like his body is betraying him. Like something's not going to plan.

You turn your head toward him, still hazy, not quite sure what just happened, but then you feel it... That thick, warm stickiness between your thighs, dripping onto the sheets beneath you and suddenly everything makes sense.

He came.

You shift your whole body to face him and the sight is more than enough to confirm it. His dick is still in his hand, slowly softening, slick and covered in white release, just like your pussy.

"Sorry, schat. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... it wasn't supposed to be like this. Fuck– I'm sorry...", he's stammering now, avoiding your gaze, his voice barely holding itself together.

Joost looks like a kicked dog – wide eyes, full of guilt, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his face like he's searching for somewhere to hide, one breath away from falling apart.

Like he braces for you to lash out.

Like he thinks you're about to mock him.

Tell him to get the fuck out.

And he wouldn't blame you for it.

The only person he could ever blame is himself.

"Don't worry, baby, don't worry... I'm here for you", your voice is soft as you reach out and caress his hand, thumb brushing along his knuckles like you're trying to calm him with nothing but your touch.

You open your arms and he slips into them instantly. Joost folds into you, pressing his body against yours with quiet desperation, like he needs to disappear inside your warmth just to feel okay again.

"I'm so sorry...", he chokes out, breath ragged against your skin, "I didn't wanna let you down. I swear, I just wanted to make you feel good. That's all I wanted, oh god–", his voice breaks, "–but fuck, what kind of man does that? What kind of man am I?"

Joost buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hands clutching at your sides, not rough, not steady, just trembling.

"I'd understand", he whispers, barely audible, "If you told me to get dressed and leave right now... I'd just… go and leave you alone..."

He hates himself for being like this.

For getting excited so easily.

For the way his body betrays him before his mind can even up.

The last time he gathered enough courage to talk to a beautiful woman, someone who seemed kind and sweet, it ended the same way...

They flirted a little, laughed too much and he felt that buzz of hope inside him, the kind that doesn't come around often. She ended up in his bed that night and during a heated makeout session, while she was trying to stroke him through his boxers, he came inside them. Just like that. No warning. No control. His face burned and he tried to stammer out an apology, completely mortified, but she didn't even want to listen. Just pulled her shirt back on, called him a "schoolboy", told him to "grow the fuck up" and walked out. No goodbye. No second chance. Only humilation.

He spent the entire night curled up in bed, shame digging into his chest like a dull knife. Didn't leave his apartment the whole next day. Didn't respond to anyone's texts. After that, he stopped trying. And whenever some girl looked at him with interest, he flinched and got shy.

Until now.

Until you.

And the worst part is he was scared this might end the same way. That he'd fuck it up and never see you again. But despite everything, he let himself trust you.

What scares him even more now… is how much he already cares.

This wasn't supposed to be anything serious.

Just a night. A moment. A nice memory. Nothing more than a hook up.

But somewhere between the way you said his name and smiled at him... something changed.

And now... it doesn't feel like a one-night stand anymore.

"I'm not kicking you out, you silly... don't even think like that", you say gently, your voice steady as you smile and caress his bare back.

"I'm gonna make it up to you... sooner or later", he whispers, barely louder than a breath, "I promise..."

"Shhh, that's okay, baby", you soothe, pressing your lips to his temple, your palm spreading over the warmth of his skin.

"Maybe I work too much, maybe… I don't– I really don't know what's wrong with me", his voice cracks and then a soft, helpless sob escapes him. A single tear rolls down his cheek as you catch it with your thumb, brushing it gently away as you cradle his face in your hand.

"Joost...", you murmur, "Joost, look at me", he hesitates for a moment, but finally, his eyes lift to meet yours – red-rimmed and full of shame.

"Listen…", your voice is firm, but full of kindness, "I'm not mad at you. Not even a little. Please stop blaming yourself. Sometimes these things just… happen. It doesn't make you broken. It doesn't make you less of a man. It makes you a human..."

He nods, small, uncertain, and gives you the faintest smile. You can't quite wrap your head around the fact that this night ended like this. Not breathless from sex. But holding him. Listening to his apologies.

You glance down at him, this tall, tattooed mess of a man curled into you like a boy, and realize you don't mind staying like this. All night. All morning. As long as he needs. Running your fingers through his hair, humming soft reassurances into his ear, letting him fall asleep with your heartbeat as a lullaby.

Because there's something about having a big boy melt in your embrace.

Something about being the one he needs when everything else falls apart.

Something that makes you want to protect him and kiss away all the shame from his face.

Something devastatingly sweet about the weight of his body pressed against yours, his heart somehow lighter just because you didn't push him away.

But Joost seems to have other plans for the rest of the night.

Just when you think he's about to fall asleep in your arms, his head lifts slightly. And before you can ask what he's doing, he's already shifting, crawling lower, pressing kisses down your stomach like a quiet apology.

"Joost...?", you whisper, confused, breath catching in your throat. But instead of giving you an answer, he just slips between your thighs like he belongs there. And then you feel it – his tongue, warm and unhurried, diving into your folds. He starts to clean you up with his mouth, slow and deliberate, licking up every last drop of his release from your pussy.

"Joost...", this time you wince, your voice cracking from the intensity, but he only looks up at you with a smug little smirk on his face.

His lips and mustache are a mess, glistening with his own cum and your slick, a filthy mix of juices shining on his chin. He sticks out his coated tongue, showing it to you like a trophy, then closes his mouth and swallows. When he opens it again, his tongue is clean... and his eyes are locked on yours, searching for your reaction.

"Joost…", you gasp, stunned, your whole body pulsing, "You're really a fucking freak..."

That sight alone nearly sends you over the edge. The way he looks, the way he savors both of you like it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. It turns you on so badly, you could cum just from that.

Your hand flies to his hair, fingers tangling deep, grabbing a fistful at the back of his head. You pull him in with a desperation, your hips rising to meet his mouth. His grip tighten around your thighs, anchoring you to the bed like he needs you to stay here for him forever.

"Don't stop", you growl, low and needy, "Fuck, Joost... don't you dare stop", and the way he groans at your words, feral and pleased, you know he won't. Not until he's got you falling apart all over his tongue.

He grinds his hips against the mattress, his leaking cock searching for any kind of friction as he devours you like a man starved, eating you like his last meal. His tongue moves frantically yet skillfully, slick as it laps at your folds, his whole mouth working you over like he's worshipping every inch of your swollen, sensitive cunt.

You've never felt anything like this before. Moans start slipping out of you, louder and louder, as Joost goes even deeper, more deliberate. Then, without warning, he adds a finger, curling it inside you just right. His lips leave you only for a second as he gasps for air, and the moment it does, his hot exhale hits your soaked pussy, making your body jolt. But he doesn't give you second to breathe. He's back on you, tongue flicking, finger thrusting, and suddenly that familiar heat begins blooming low in your belly. This tight, pulsing pressure that makes your thighs squeeze. It's coming fast, faster than you can handle, and still he keeps going, like he wants to ruin you with his mouth.

No one's ever taken care of you like this.

No one's ever made your pleasure feel like their mission.

You manage to rise your head just enough to look at him between your thighs. His face is wrecked, hair plastered to his forehead, lips swollen, mustache glistening with your wetness and faint traces of his own cum still clinging to his chin. But it's his eyes that make you whimper, heavy with lust, completely lost in the taste of you.

And in that one moment, that single glance, you know, he's enjoying this just as much as you are. Maybe even more. You drop your head back on a pillow, crying out his name and all you can think is: he loves this, he fucking lives for this.

"Oh, Joost... just like that… I'm close, so close...", you moan over and over, your fingers tightening in his damp, blond strands. Your other hand clutches at the sheets like it's the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

His tongue moves faster, more precise, and you can feel him rutting harder against the bed, desperate and panting, squelching sounds of his mouth between your thighs echoing inside your brain like a dirty song.

Your orgasm hits you like a storm.

You let out a loud, unrestrained whimper, legs clenching instinctively around his head. Your hand slips from his hair, but Joost doesn't pull away. His palms stay on you, relaxed now, thumbs stroking soothing lines along your thighs, grounding you through the aftershocks – until he places one last tender kiss on your overstimulated pussy and rises to his knees on the mattress, lips glossy, eyes dark and blown-out.

"Schatje–", he breathes, barely louder than the quiet hum of your heartbeat still echoing in your ears, "If you still want this… I think... I think I'm ready again. Can… can we try?"

Almost hesitantly, Joost shows you his cock, hard and throbbing in his hand. There's a flicker of vulnerability on his face as he glances down.

"Could you give me just one more chance to feel you… to feel you inside?", he asks, eyes searching yours, pleading for your consent, for the last chance.

"Yes, please... now", you nod, more certain than ever.

He climbs over you slowly, carefully settling between your thighs, hovering like he's afraid to press too much weight on you. You part your legs wider for him and he lines himself up with an unsteady hand. The flushed tip of his cock nudges at your entrance and then he starts to push in, painfully slow and cautious. He slides into you so easily, your core still slick from your last orgasm and the lingering heat of his mouth. That first stretch makes you gasp, your walls fluttering as you begin to feel every thick inch of him filling you.

He watches himself disappear into you, a little more with each deliberate thrust, until he bottoms out. But he doesn't look at your face. Not yet. His gaze fixed between your connected bodies, like he can't quite believe he's really inside you. His brows furrow as he focuses all his energy just to stay in control, terrified of letting go too soon again. He starts to move with more confidence now, his hips rolling into you deeper with each stroke, though every thrust is still carefully restrained. His muscles are drawn taut like a bowstring – tension coiling in his arms, his back, his thighs – all of him flexing with the effort of holding back.

"Joost...", you whisper between moans, your voice trembling with pleasure as your thumb brushes across his lower lip, trying to pull him back from wherever his mind is spiraling, "Joost, are you with me?"

"Yeah... you feel so good, oh god, so fucking good", he nods shakily, eyes dazed and half-lidded.

"Look at me, please", he does as you ask him, his shy, beautiful gaze locking with yours now.

"Come closer", you say, arms reaching out with invitation, "Come on… just relax, baby..."

Your hands stroke softly over his back as he leans down, the silver chain around his neck swinging above your face, catching the low light before his full weight finally sinks into you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, feeling him press even deeper. The way your bodies fit together like this, skin to skin, heart to heart, makes you melt beneath him.

"You still with me, Joost?", you murmur, lips brushing his ear, "You're doing so well. So fucking well...", you feel him shudder, like your words are the only thing holding him together.

"Yes, Joost, yes... you're amazing. Please... harder, deeper... I want all of you", you keep moaning against his bare, pale skin, words tumbling out between gasps, not just because you're close again, but because you mean them.

And it feels like fucking heaven.

The way Joost moves inside you, purposeful, like he's finally let go of the fear and let himself feel everything you're giving him. With every delightful grind of his hips, you know you're not going to last much longer. The pressure in your core tightens again, sharp and overwhelming. His cock hits that perfect spot, over and over, and you're clawing at his back, breath ragged, vision blurring with tears of building pleasure.

"Joost, oh my god...", your pussy clenches around him, squeezing tight and he groans from deep in his chest, barely holding it together.

"I've got you", he pants, his voice thick and breathless, "Come for me again, schatje, please…"

It crashes over you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs. You cry out, hips jerking beneath him as he kisses you, his moans half-muffled against your lips, swallowing every sound you make like he wants to keep them inside him forever. Your body still pulses around his length and you can feel he's right there too, teetering on the edge.

"Fuck–", he gasps, pulling out with one final thrust.

Joost throws his head back and then spills all over you, hot ropes of his load painting your belly, some of it splattering higher, leaving sticky droplets on your breasts. His voice breaks with a mix of Dutch curses and ragged breath.

Without thinking twice, he collapses on top of you, chest pressed against your cum-slicked body, his cheek settling over your heartbeat like it's the only steady thing in the world. He doesn't care that everything is sticky now, that you're both covered in sweat and the mess of each other. He just wraps his arms around you and in that moment – bodies tangled, breath shared, hearts racing in sync – you know neither of you will ever forget this night.

You're utterly spent, too weak to move an inch, your body heavy and limp against the mattress. But Joost rises smoothly and scoops you up in his strong arms, holding you close as if you weigh nothing.

"Tell me where your bathroom is", he mutters, his moustache tickling the crook of your neck.

"To the right...", you manage to whisper, eyes heavy, your cheek resting on his chest.

Joost carries you carefully through the quiet apartment, the heat of his body grounding you, until he gently sets you down beneath the shower.

"I'm gonna help you clean up", he says softly, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face, "Mind if I join you? I'm just as sticky as you are…", he gives you a shy smile that makes your heart twist – so polite, like he didn't fuck you a few minutes ago.

You nod, too tired to speak, and he steps in beside you, closing the glass door behind him. The water streams down, warm and soothing, washing away the sweat clinging to your skin. You melt into the sensation of his hands, massaging your sore muscles, fingers gentle as they trace your curves. He holds you steady at the waist, making sure you don't slip from exhaustion, his touch tender and careful as he cleans between your thighs, trying not to overstimulate you. It's a real moment of sacred intimacy, more meaningful than anything you've done together.

Once he finishes washing you, Joost quickly cleans himself, then helps you step out of the shower. You don't argue when he sits you on the closed toilet lid, drying you off and wrapping you in a fluffy towel.

"You don't have to, Joost. I do these things by myself all the time", you murmur with a soft smile, but the tiredness in your eyes gives you away.

"I don't doubt that, liefde", he replies gently, returning your smile, "But I want to..."

And before you can say more, he's already scooping you up again, cradling you against his chest like you're something fragile. He carries you back to bed and lowers you onto the mattress, tucking the comforter around your tired body, his hands lingering a little longer as if making sure you're safe.

"Joost… come here", you whisper, patting the space beside you.

He moves silently, sliding in next to you, his body molding perfectly to yours as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling your back closer to his chest.

"I'm still sorry for earlier", he murmurs into your hair, his voice rough with sleep, "I hope I made it up to you. Even just a little. Slaap lekker, mijn schat...", he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

You don't get the chance to reply. Sleep pulls you under before the words can form, your body giving in to his embrace. You drift off with a smile on your lips, dreaming that maybe you won't have to convince him to stay in Berlin more often.

Because maybe, just maybe… he's already found a home.

#joost klein smut #joost smut #joost klein fanfic #joost fanfic #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost klein x you #joost x you #my one shots

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too-deviant · 2 days ago

Text

jackie and wilson.

previous | next masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: you haven’t exactly been given a quest, but you’ve made it your personal mission to get luke castellan to smile even just a little bit.

content: its the fourth of july weekend, and everyone else seems to have a date to the fireworks show but you.

notes: i am back hos. i actually cant believe its been over a year since my last sunny!verse update that is on me yall i am Sorry! but were so back and better than ever i fear. heres some cutesy fluff for you to make up for it!!! also revived the old taglist so some of the users could be wrong etc, just comment to be added/removed/readded <3

IV.II — THE FOURTH OF JULY INTERLUDE

Just under a month ago, you were picking strawberries with Henry Furstatt and muttering ironically into the opeN air, “Being a demigod is easy work.”

Oh how wrong you were.

Because as you would later learn, being a demigod is everything but easy. Being a demigod who’s father was the King of Olympus — and who had vowed to never have kids again? Even harder.

You’d been claimed only three weeks ago and already was Chiron making you do extra training — Just in case, he says, even though the prophecy explicitly states that the kid would destroy Olympus when they turn sixteen. You were well past that point, but he still made you do it.

Luke was more than happy to force you out of bed at the crack of dawn; you having moved cabins not holding him back even a little bit. You didn’t have any siblings to bunk with, so more often than not did he use his expertise in picking locks to his advantage. You hated it, but you were also getting very good at the whole demigod thing, so really you should thank him.

(You aren’t going to).

But after weeks of questioning, gruelling training days, nonstop workouts and practice, it was finally time to wind down. Because it was the fourth of July weekend!

Evie had proudly informed you earlier in the week that every year on the fourth, the Hephaestus kids create this amazing firework show that they put on over the beach. There were snacks, drinks (non alcoholic, but only if Chiron asked), and games. It was the one night a year they were allowed to stay up past curfew, and it was a pretty big deal.

“Still ignoring him, I see.” Evie’s face was full of blank amusement as she watched you wipe embers off of your front door.

You huffed. It was a daily thing, your dad striking the door to your cabin in the hopes that you’d give him a call, or a visit. It was getting annoying, “Yeah. You’d think the King of the Gods would be more busy nowadays.”

The Ares girl snorted, shaking her head and linking your arms. It was a nice day — early July was always nice, apparently. Apollo’s favourite time of the year — and you had agreed to a girly day with Evie, Clarisse, Lana and Nini the water Nymph who had caught you and Luke wading through her pond. It hadn’t taken a lot of convincing to get Luke to let you have the day off, since the boy had seemed a bit preoccupied himself this week. You hadn’t questioned his odd behaviour, because he was always odd.

The girls were gathered in the forest, set up nicely on a picnic blanket beside Nini’s pond. Clarisse was munching on a strawberry and Lana was washing the freshly cut grass (Hades knows who did that, because it wasn’t on the activity sheet) from her bare feet in the water. Nini didn’t seem to mind, smiling dreamily at the scenery. It was ripe in the summer, the rays shooting off the edge of her pond and cascading all around them — truly, a gorgeous sight.

When you and Evie caught their eyes, there was an echo of heys and sit downs that prompted you to join the three of them on the ground. Immediately Clarrise was complaining about one of her siblings and Evie was joining in with a roll of her eyes – apparently, they thought it would be very Ares Kid of them to train one of the pegasi to attack the Apollo kids. Obviously that did not work, and now the very Apollo kids they swore to prank were refusing to treat their pegasus-inflicted wounds.

“Yeah, Dean is all kinds of asshole.”

Lana frowned at the newfound information, “It was Dean?” Clarisse nodded in confirmation, “Dammit. He was gonna be my date to the fireworks show.”

“Why?” Evie snorted, “Dude’s a loser.”

But Lana just shrugged, “He asked me a couple days ago and nobody else was gonna…can’t go alone, can I?”

You leaned in, brows pulled together, “I’m sorry, we’re supposed to have dates for this thing?” The girls nodded, even Nini was looking at you like it was obvious. You were lost, “But it’s a…fireworks show.”

“And it’s the only event that gives us the opportunity to actually go on a date.” Evie clarified, pursing her lips, “It’s not like we have a camp prom.”

You straightened, “Oh.”

“You look worried.” Lana observed.

“It’s okay.” Clarisse tried to comfort you, hand on your shoulder, “You’ll find someone.”

You weren’t worried, not really. You had just imagined relaxing back on a blanket with your friends and watching some fireworks. Maybe Luke could socialise for once – at least, that was the plan. Maybe not anymore, if everyone had dates. “Who are you guys going with?”

“Chris.”

“Well, I was supposed to be going with Dean but…”

“Sabine.”

That last one got you, and you snapped your head in Evie’s direction, “Sabine? Daughter of Nike, Sabine?”

“Yeah.” She smiled sort of whimsically, and it freaked you all out, “She asked me yesterday and well…she is hella beautiful, so.” A shrug.

“And violent.” Lana deadpanned.

“Angry at the world.” You offered, but Evie just shook her head.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

You weren’t nervous before. In fact, you were more carefree than you had been since before you got claimed — no pressure to train, just a nice weekend of relaxing. But now you were stressed all over again, because you needed a date? By tomorrow? At school you always had a plan for those sorts of things – ask the nice guy who sits next to you in Chem, or the girl on the basketball team who you let use your parking spot whenever you weren’t in. At a camp with significantly less people to choose from and therefore more chance for people to notice when you go alone? A whole new ballpark. The last minute of it all didn’t help very much. Everyone else already had one, who was there for you to even ask?

“I don’t see the problem.” Nini said, all confused, “Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

An awful thing to say, really, because the girls erupted.

They didn’t think, they just went straight to the teasing. You thought they were being very dramatic about the whole thing – shaking your arms, oooing cheekily at you with smirks and overall behaving like middle school children. You just hid your growing smile at their antics and pushed them away, “Alright, calm down. I do not have a boyfriend.”

“Then who, my dear lightning summoner, is Nini talking about?” You narrowed your eyes at Evie's evil look. She just raised both brows, silently opening the question to the whole group.

“Lee?”

“Travis?”

“Evan?”

“Perchance.”

“You can’t just say perchance.”

“Guys – ” You tried to stop their rambled suspicions with a pair of raised hands. They ignored you, turning their gazes to the girl that started it all.

Nini shrunk back at the attention, looking suddenly sheepish and shrugging, “I just thought when you and Luke were here the other week that –”

Oh gods.

“Oh!”

“Castellan, you say?” Lana smirked, and you fought the urge to slap it right off.

“Cuddling up with the counsellor, Sparky?” Evie feigned scandalization, hand on chest, “How blasphemous.”

You blanked her, “I was not cuddling up with Luke, we were just looking for my baseball.”

“Nini?” Clarrise asked once more, “Can you confirm?”

The water nymph, poor girl, clearly did not enjoy all the spotlight she suddenly had. If she could blush, you were sure she would, but you didn’t need to see her cheeks tinge red to know that she was a little embarrassed about sharing such information. She just shrugged, “They were laughing and stuff…”

The girls just got giddier at that – Luke Castellan, laughing? Unheard of!

Well, that part was certainly true. And although your friends were only teasing, upping the dramatics because that’s what friends did, you started to think. Luke wasn’t your boyfriend – just the thought of it sent something new flurrying in your gut, but he was your best friend. He was the person closest to you at camp and the more you thought about spending the fireworks show with anyone else, the more you wanted to just sit and watch them with Luke like you thought you were going to. Was that so wrong?

Well, it would be if Luke had a date of his own. You hadn’t discussed the whole thing with him yet but sue you for thinking he had nobody else – you were the only person he spoke to most days. Although, he had been making some changes lately…maybe he did have a date. But the thought of that – you didn’t feel like exploring the feelings that it conjured up.

So it was decided – you would just go with Luke.

(If he was free.

No he is. He has to be.)

Screw the norm, just because these kids didn’t get dates outside of camp didn’t mean you had to get one for a silly firework show. They could do as they pleased, and so could you!

Except when you found Luke later that day, sat up against a tree and fiddling with something in his hands that you couldn’t see, you suddenly felt all nervous about your proposal. Would Luke even want to watch them with you, or would he much prefer to follow what everyone else had been doing the whole time and get a real date? Maybe you shouldn’t ask –

Too late, he was looking at you. Smiling at you with that tiny quirk of his lips that only you could catch, nodding his head and inviting you over.

You went, grinning like usual at him and sitting just before him, sun beating on your back and casting a glow around you that you couldn’t see. But Luke could, from his spot in the shade. He found it very telling. You softened your grin into a smile, “Hey. Haven’t seen you today, what’ve you been up to?”

He shook his head, “Nothing, really.”

He was lying. You tilted your head, gestured to where his hands were hidden in his lap, “What’s that, then?”

He dropped his gaze, tightened his jaw because you had caught him. To an onlooker, he was irritated, angry like usual. But you saw the crinkles in his cheek, around his eyes – the smile lines that were barely there but there nonetheless. He looked back at you, brown eyes piercing your soul, and lifted his hands. In his grip was a beanie, knitted in soft yarn in your favourite shade. He handed it to you, “Here.”

You took it gently, almost disbelieving, as if it would disappear the moment you held it too tight, “You…did you knit this?”

“Yes.” He squinted, cheeks a light shade of pink.

You glanced at him, mouth parting, “You knit?”

It was his turn to chuckle, a light sound you only heard on good days, shaking his head at himself like he should’ve known that you’d be more interested in the fact that he could knit rather than the gift he’d made for you, “Yeah. Self-taught.”

That last bit was spoken with an air of arrogance you only saw in him whenever he was training you. You dropped your hands, beanie still between them, and focused all your attention on his amused look, “You can knit and you never told me?!”

“I don’t…” He shrugged, careless, and you wanted to punch him for keeping such a thing from you, but you saw his growing grin and decided against it. He was too pretty to punch.

You ended up just shaking your head in faux-disappointment, tucking the beanie to your chest and squinting at him, “Well, thank you. It’s very soft.” Then, a little quieter, “Maybe I could wear it to the firework show on the beach.”

Luke perked up a little then, but it was so unnoticable that you could’ve been imagining it. He looked at you, thinking, then said, “It won’t be cold enough for that.”

“Oh.” You looked down, then up, then down. Up one more time, “Are you going to that?”

Luke took a deep breath in, eyes drifting everywhere but you, “Well…I wasn’t going to, but now I think I might.”

“Oh.” You said again. You felt stupid. “Apparently we’re supposed to have dates or something.” You followed your attempt at diverting the conversation with a weak chuckle and suddenly the conversation felt like how it was when you first met. It unnerved you, but Luke just nodded.

“Yeah.” He said, “The year-rounders don’t get real dates and everyone else usually skips their proms and stuff…’cause of monsters.”

“That’s fair.” You muttered. Oh, gods, what was wrong with you? Why did you feel all nervous like you were trying to ask him out? Just say it, he’ll understand. “I might just go with you.”

His head snapped up, “What?”

“That is if you – if you aren’t already going with someone else.” You stammered out, twisting the beanie in your hands to distract them, “Because that totally makes sense, obviously –”

“No, I’ll go with you,” He interrupted, sort of smiling, “Better than being all awkward with a date you don’t know.”

“Yeah.” You were glad he agreed. The relief was immediate, and any loud beatings of your heart were silenced when he leant back against the bark and started talking about the shitshow that was Travis and Conor trying to ask some Demeter girls out earlier that day.

Everything was fine, you thought as you said your goodbyes so he could go teach a beginners sword lesson. Everything was fine, you exuded through your easy smile at Evan when he made himself known just as Luke was walking away.

“Secured a date with Castellan.” He nodded, impressed, “I was gonna ask you, but…fair play. No hard feelings.”

“What?” You laughed, shaking your head a little too hard, “No, we’re just going as friends. We’re not even really going together like that, y’know? We just…will happen to be hanging out there. That's all.”

“Uh,” He too seemed to chuckle, although it felt like he was laughing at you, rather than with, “Not what it sounded like.”

“What?”

“I’m just..I mean, I could be reading it wrong.” He shrugged, looking down at you, “But to me that sounded like you were asking him to be your date.”

Did it? You didn’t feel like it did, but the more you thought back on it, the less sure you became.

Ok. This was fine, you were fine. Who cared what Evan thought? You knew what you were trying to say, Luke knew too.

Right?

Right.

Right?

“Ok, don’t hate on it just yet because it needs the jacket but…” Evie did a spin, “What do we think? No? Yes?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Lana grinned, leaning back on Zeus’ pedestal without a care in the world. As an unclaimed kid, she was one of the first of your friends to really accept that you didn’t care who your dad was — she didn’t either.

The other girls were more than ready to accept your cabin as the getting ready spot for the fireworks show, since it was pretty much empty all of the time. You had been more than accepting; the more teenage girl stuff strewn around the place, the less it reminded you of the fact that you’d been forgotten and abandoned.

“Chris asked me to incorporate yellow into my outfit.” Clarisse twisted her expression, “I hate yellow.”

“Says the girl currently putting yellow laces into her shoes.”

“Shut up.”

And the girls. They also helped you forget about your deadbeat father. And Luke, he did too.

Luke, who was not your date to the show. Just a companion. Someone to sit with when the girls were off with their dates. Alone. But as friends.

“Hey, guys?” Your gaze was firmly on the hem of your white dress when you spoke, sitting up on the pedestal of that stupid statue you wished you could get rid of. Maybe you’d ask a couple of Hephaestus kids to help haul it into the trash.

“What’s up?” Evie responded gently, Lana and Clarisse giving you their undivided attention when they caught your words.

“Say hypothetically, I asked Luke to hang out with me at the fireworks show.” You looked up at them then — them and their sick grins and evil eyes, “And hypothetically, he’d said yes. Would that mean that he’s my date…or that we’re just going as friends?”

The three girls shared a look. Then Lana took a breath in, “Hypothetically, did you ask him as a friend or as a date?”

“Hypothetically, I never specified.” You winced, “But my intention was to ask him as a friend! Hypothetically.”

“Well…hypothetically, you’re going on a date with Luke Castellan.”

“What? Clarisse!”

She shrugged, “I don’t know what to tell you. Everyone knows you get a date to the fireworks show. Intention or not, you’ve got a date.”

“But…” You stammered, rubbing your arms to relieve yourself of the goosebumps.

“Do you not want to go on a date with Luke?” Evie asked, “I mean, I know we tease you but…you guys are pretty close.”

“And hella cute.” Lana finished, looking up from where she was doing her mascara, “Plus, you’re the first person he really spoke to after his whole funk, so there’s gotta be a connection there.”

You didn’t reply, unsure of what to say, so Evie clicked her tongue, “If you’re that worried about it, ask him. He’ll be understanding, this is Luke we’re talking about here.”

She was right. Who were you to be scared to talk to Luke? It was only a few months ago that he was too scared to talk to anybody, until of course you swooped in to save the day. If anything, he should be the one scared. Not you. You could talk to him. Easy peasy.

“You haven’t talked to him, have you?”

Okay. Evie was right — in your defence, when the four of you had reached the beach and scattered off to find your respective dates (or not dates. That was still to be confirmed), it took you a minute to actually find Luke. And when you did, he was standing with Conor and Travis on one side of the beach, and you didn’t exactly want an audience when you popped your question.

So you waited until you were alone, sat comfortably against an old overturned boat a little ways away from the crowd of campers but close enough that you guys didn’t look like you were having some alone time. But then Luke started talking about what he’d done since you’d last seen each other before you could get a word in, and then he told you there was a snack table somewhere and you couldn’t say no to that.

“And now I’m here. So no, I haven’t asked him.” You explained before promptly stuffing your mouth with a mini sausage roll. Your eyes deceived you, however, the panic in them was evident even when you were chewing.

“You don’t have to ask him.” She said then, looking at you in slight concern, “Obviously. If you’re cool with never knowing whether this was a date or not. And I know that you’re not, so…”

You swallowed your roll, “I have to ask him.”

“So why haven’t you?” She said, “I mean when you first met Luke, you straight up told him to quit his emo act, so I know you’re not shy. You’re a badass, you're the daughter of Zeus. You’re not afraid to ask Luke a silly little question. Are you?”

“No. You’re right, I’m not.” As if suddenly remembering who the Hades you were, you gave Evie a firm nod and turned swiftly back to where you were sitting. Storming over as effectively as you could — meaning not at all, since it’s almost impossible to get a good stomp going when you’re walking on sand, but the intention was there — and levelling Luke with a stare.

He looked up at you, “Hey. Sit down, the fireworks are gonna start.”

“Is this a date?” You said then.

Luke froze slightly, brows furrowing. His cheeks tinged slightly red, “Uh. What?”

“Don’t play with me, Castellan. You know this camp better than I do. Everyone brings a date to this thing.” You cocked your hip, “So when I asked you earlier, did you assume we were going as dates?”

“That’s a…” He pushed himself up to stand, “Complicated question.”

“Is it?”

“Well, did you ask me as a date?”

You huffed, “Not originally, no.”

“Originally?” He squinted. You hated that his ego was coming back. Why couldn’t he go back to the quiet emo kid he was when you met? Then you’d have some form of power over him. Curse your bubbly personality bringing him out of his shell!

“Well, yeah.” You dropped your crossed arms with a sigh, “But then Evan told me that it sounded different and the girls said I basically did ask you out so I got confused. Now I’m asking you.”

“You’re asking me…” He started, “…to tell you what you meant when you asked me to go to this with you?”

“I….Yes.” You nodded firmly.

Luke chuckled, and you fought back a smile with your tongue. You always liked hearing him laugh, even when you were trying to be tough. It was just so pretty to look at, even when he was laughing at you.

He stepped closer to you, “You’re stressing yourself out over nothing, Sunny. I mean, does it matter if we’re on a date or not?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because dates mean something.” You said quietly, “Don’t they?”

“Not with these guys.” He nodded to the rest of the campers, all of them sitting with their own dates. As you looked at them, you realised that none of them were having those first-date-awkward-conversations that most people had at dances and proms. None of them were fumbling to throw an arm around each other, or red in the face trying to move closer. Now that you were really looking, they just seemed…comfortable. Relaxed. Chilling with a friend, if anything. It started to make a little bit of sense to you then. “These people just date so they can say they’ve dated. It doesn’t really mean anything unless they make it mean something.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You looked back at him.. “Still. It’s a little different with us, right?”

“How d’you mean?” He asked. He knew what you meant, but he guessed he wanted to hear you say it. Get that confirmation that you thought it too.

“I guess…I mean, it’s me and you. It’s us. I don’t wanna sound conceited but, we’re a lot different than, say, Travis and Laura.” You laughed then, gesturing to him. “I think that if we went on a date, no matter what, that would mean something. Don’t you?”

“I do.” He nodded firmly, eyes set on you with a look that was too serious for Luke.

You swallowed, “So…are we on a date?”

He took a breath in, thinking, “Well, do you wanna be?”

You laughed, “Do you wanna be?”

“Yes.”

You stopped laughing, “Oh.”

“But if you don’t then, we won’t.” He shrugged, sitting back down on the sand, “Whatever you say.”

“W—Well…” You put your hands on your hips, attempting to regain your composure, “Uh, I do too.”

“Cool.” He smiled up at you, “So we’re on a date.”

“I guess we are.”

He kept smiling, “You gonna sit down?”

“I am.” You nodded firmly and seriously, but your attempts at a tough composure melted away the second your eyes were level with his once more. He chuckled a little bit before turning back to the shoreline, just in time for the fireworks to start.

The show was gorgeous. You were in awe at the beauty of it all — the combined efforts of the Apollo and Hephaestus kids really was an underrated force. You watched the explosion of colours, leaned into Luke and wondered how you had ever been stressed about speaking to him.

All in all, it was a good night. You just hoped it could be this way all the time.

🏷️ @katherines-imagines @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry @jennapancake @cobaltskiez @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons @woodlandwrites @ma1dita @tsireyasgf @theo-notts-doll @iammightsadyall @svnny-days @fennecswife @csifandom @evilwrongdoer @blueberryjune @dancing-inasnowglobe @acidaciruela @solshaven @rosieandthethorns @sofiacblair @obxstiles @lukecastellanirl (this tag list is over a year old so pls comment if you need re-adding or removing!! love u)

#we’re so back #sunny!verse #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan is a loser and i love him #luke castellan fic #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #pjo #luke pjo

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writingdevil · 3 days ago

Note

haii this is definitely not bunny . i request more cheatoppy :3 or perhaps skepoppycheat if ur up to that . thank uuuuu i love ur writing so much<3

(HI BUNNY!!! I picked skepoppycheat because I think it's really interesting and I wanted to take a stab at it! I love both cheatoppy and skeptunist so much, so adding them all together is gonna be so fun! Enjoy!)

"This is a dumb idea!"

"Do you have a better one?"

"No! But just because I don't, doesn't mean we should do this one!"

Skeptic rolled his eyes at his partner's doubt, watching as Cheated nervously looked between him and their bedroom door, where their target was located.

Skeptic reached out, pulling Cheated into a soft embrace, smiling at the way Cheated grumbled but still melted in Skeptic's hold.

The two of them surprisingly worked well together. Hunting for the truth and for fairness often went hand in hand, and Skeptic was surprised to find Cheated interested in his investigations from day one, offering him a different, more empathetic approach to things.

Skeptic would be willing to hear Cheated out on his complaints, and Cheated would be one of the few to actually engage with Skeptic's bizarre questioning and theories.

They were perfectly in love together.

But there was someone else that would make it even more perfect.

Opportunist.

Skeptic and Cheated worked great, but Opportunist made everything feel complete.

"I can't believe we're going through with this," Cheated muttered, and Skeptic chuckled, resting his chin on the top of his head. "You know it won't get through to him any other way. You know how he is."

"For how smart he claims to be, he sure is thick when it comes to what's blatantly in front of him," Cheated said, snuggling further into the crook of Skeptic's shoulder.

Skeptic made a noise of uncertainty, pulling Cheated back to look him in the eye, speaking to him with a serious tone as he asked, "Are you sure you wanna go through with this? Do you think you'll be happier with him- joining us?"

Cheated's feathers immediately fluffed up as took in Skeptic's words, before he lowered his gaze, bashful and deep in thought. Skeptic felt the way Cheated's grip on him tightened, then relaxed, never too rough and always making Skeptic feel safe.

Eventually, Cheated lifted his head, and there was a playful smile on his face. He still looked a bit sheepish and nervous, but there was a determination in his eyes that Skeptic loved so much as he quietly said, "Yeah- I know how much of a softie he actually is, and- he deserves love, our love."

Skeptic grinned, then gave Cheated a wink that he knew flustered the other. "Then let's go make him ours."

Opportunist had been lounging in the living room reading a book, the house unusually quiet, but he wasn't one to refuse some peace every now and then.

But then he heard footsteps approach, and he perked up at the chance to talk to someone, and he was only more elated- and nervous- to find that it was his two favourite people- Skeptic and Cheated.

They walked into the room, and it felt like their eyes were pinned on him instantly, but that couldn't possibly be the case.

Opportunist ignored the way his heart raced, smiling up at the lovely couple as he put his book away.

He could swear he could feel Cheated's gaze burning into him as he walked over to the other side of the room, claiming the armchair, but Opportunist ignored him in favour of looking at Skeptic, who sat beside him on the couch.

"Hey, Oppy," Skeptic said, and Opportunist tried not to get too excited at the way his name sounded in Skeptic's voice. "What are you up to?"

"Me? Oh, I was just taking the time to read." Opportunist gestured to the book in his hands, and saw the way Skeptic's eyes lit up.

"That's the one I recommended to you, isn't it?"

Opportunist giggled, hoping neither could hear the nerves in his voice, and praying his feathers didn't give anything away.

"Uh-yeah!" Opportunist said, distracting himself from Skeptic's face by casually flicking the pages of the book. He could feel his face burn as he said, "It's actually really good."

"I knew you'd like it." But the excitement and pride in Skeptic's voice made him look up, and when their eyes met, Skeptic immediately scooted closer, making Opportunist's heart thump wildly, but Skeptic's attention was on the book as he asked, "How far into it are you?"

Opportunist found that he couldn't deny that handsome face and excited smile anything, so he awkwardly began talking about the book, but soon enough- his confidence and genuine joy returned, the more the conversation went on, until they were chatting away for what could've been hours. Time mattered little when talking to Skeptic.

Opportunist wasn't sure how or when, but at some point, his traitorous little heart had started getting feelings for the inquisitive bird.

But how could Opportunist not fall for Skeptic? He was so kind and patient with him in a way that others didn't bother with anymore- and for good reason! But it seemed like Skeptic saw something more in him, when Opportunist was convinced there was nothing but darkness and cowardice.

But when Skeptic spoke, Opportunist couldn't help but listen, and he slowly but surely felt safe enough around him to let his true self show, his infatuation with the other only growing.

But there was a problem.

"Oh, your wings, Oppy," Skeptic casually pointed out, and Opportunist straightened up immediately, snapping out of whatever lovesick trance he had just been in, casting a glance over his shoulder.

He gasped in mortified surprise. His wings were a mess! How did that happen?! Usually Opportunist never leaves his room unless his wings were in perfect condition! How was he meant to impress his crushes like this?!

He made to stand up, going, "Oh I'm so sorry you have to see them in such a state. I'll just-" but then a hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he looked up to find Skeptic giving him a soft smile, a smile that made Opportunist's heart pound.

"Why don't you relax and let me preen them for you?" Skeptic suggested, but Opportunist couldn't possibly let him do that, could he? Surely the right thing to do was excuse himself and preen his wings himself.

But before Opportunist could argue him, Skeptic had already reached around and gently fixed a feather back into place, and Opportunist sighed and his eyes briefly fluttered shut at the relief it brought him.

The next thing Opportunist knew, he was being twisted around without another word, with Skeptic leaning back against the arm of the couch, and Opportunist leaning back against him.

It just felt as if Opportunist's body was powerless to go against Skeptic, and he was about to concede and let Skeptic preen him without another thought, when he opened his eyes and realised that he was facing Cheated, who hadn't taken his eyes off them once.

Cheated was the other problem.

He had his chin resting on his palm, giving them both a look that was intense but not exactly angry. For once, Opportunist couldn't read him.

Embarrassment burned on his face, and he once again attempted to get up because this had to be inappropriate to do with someone else's partner, right?

"Actually, maybe it's better if I leave you two-"

"Stop squirming," Skeptic gently scolded, his grip in Opportunist's feathers keeping him sat, and Opportunist had to bite back a groan of relief at Skeptic's steady and meticulous fingers in his wings. "You don't want me to accidentally rip some out, do you?"

"No, but-"

"Then just relax, Oppy. You're in good hands."

Opportunist chuckled nervously, but obliged, and soon enough, he found his body leaning back against Skeptic's chest, tension that he hadn't known that were in his muscles, were releasing instantly.

But Cheated was still staring.

Opportunist was never one for silence or to let awkwardness linger, but with his head being overwhelmed with so much warmth and intense feelings, the only thing he thought to do was just not look at Cheated.

But then he heard footsteps approach, and then- yep. There Cheated was, sitting down next to them on the couch, sitting cross legged in front of Opportunist.

Opportunist did nothing but give Cheated a polite smile, then quickly ducking his head to avoid the scowl that would no doubt be on Cheated's face.

Opportunist tried to just focus on the way Skeptic preened him, feeling himself wanting to just melt into Skeptic's body, and then he accidentally let a soft coo out as Skeptic fixed a particularly crooked and irritating feather near the base of his spine.

Opportunist would usually be mortified at having let such an embarrassing sound out, but when Cheated chuckled softly at him, all Opportunist could think of was them, of how close they were and how they were looking at him, and how this was the closest he'll ever get to being with them.

He heard Cheated's playful voice as he poked Opportunist's leg and said, "Jeez, for how much you yap, it sure is easy to get you to shut up."

Opportunist huffed, lifting his head up to lightly glare at Cheated, and countered with, "If only it was that easy for you."

Cheated snorted in amusement, but he wasn't mad or annoyed like how he used to be with Opportunist. He just sounded fond.

Why did Opportunist have to fall for both of them?

Cheated was different yet somehow similar to Skeptic. He had just as much passion and determination for the truth and for the flock's wellbeing as the other, but Cheated did it with such a fire that was hard to ignore.

Even when life kept messing with him, Cheated just kept going, refusing to back down and fold against anything, even Opportunist and his lies.

They had started out barely friends, with Opportunist constantly poking fun at the other, and with Cheated not believing a word out of Opportunist's mouth. Opportunist thought he was funny, the way things rarely seemed to go the other's way, when Opportunist would always make sure that he succeeded in his schemes.

At the start, Cheated was just fun to mess around with, because even if he didn't trust Opportunist, he kept coming back to him, so he couldn't of hated him that much.

But then one day, Cheated just casually told him, "I know you've got a soft little heart in you, and I won't stop until I find it."

That changed everything- the fact that Cheated kept dealing with all his bullshit because he believed that there was something more to him? The thought was both horrifying and amazing at the same time, and then their conversations grew less snappy and more playful.

Both Skeptic and Cheated saw something in Opportunist when Opportunist tried so hard to hide any insecurities about him, and his heart was already theirs.

So when the two of them got together, it broke Opportunist- but thankfully he was very skilled at hiding his pain with smiles.

But now the two of them were here, closing in on Opportunist like he was prey, and he was sure he was about to be devoured.

Opportunist sighed as another feather was fixed, despite his attempts to look calm and respectful in front of Skeptic's partner.

Cheated was still staring at him, but then for a split second, his gaze flicked up and over Opportunist's head, probably at Skeptic, and Opportunist was about to make another attempt at excusing himself, when Cheated suddenly groaned and stretched his arms out wide.

"I need to lie down," he muttered, and before Opportunist could protest, Cheated had swiftly scooted up to them, and rested his head on Opportunist's chest.

Opportunist froze, now feeling the warmth from the two of them seeping into him. He had no idea what was going on, but all his brain could focus on was both of their bodies caging him in, and the way Cheated nuzzled into his chest.

He felt Skeptic hum in satisfaction behind him, then wrap an around his waist, shuffling slightly so that Opportunist was even more comfortable and resting against his chest, until all three of them were just one big cuddle pile.

"U-Um, I-I don't think I should be here," Opportunist meekly said, but then he felt Cheated huff in amusement, and Skeptic carding a soothing hand against his wings, and Opportunist couldn't help the way the tension left his body at the feeling, at the safety the two of them brought him.

"Oppy," Skeptic quietly said from behind. "We have something we want to ask you."

"Yeah?" was all Opportunist could think to say.

"You know we love spending time with you, right?" He nodded, not sure where this was going.

"You know that we like who you are, who you really are, no matter how much you try to hide it."

Now Opportunist's brows furrowed in confusion. "W-What?"

"You've let us both see who you really are, and we love who you are. We love everything about you, Oppy."

This couldn't be real. "Wait-"

"Oppy," Skeptic said, his voice full of warmth and affection that Opportunist couldn't believe, "we've fallen in love with you, and we wanted to ask if you wanted to join- us."

This couldn't be happening to him. Not to Opportunist- he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of this.

Before he knew it, he was letting an empty chuckle out, one that the other two tensed up at. "You don't actually mean that," he quietly mumbled, and he felt Skeptic hug him tighter against his chest. "Why wouldn't we mean that?"

"Because I'm me," Opportunist bitterly spat out. "I'll just ruin the perfect thing the two of you already have together."

Skeptic didn't say anything for a few seconds after that, and Opportunist thought that he had successfully gotten through to them- but then Cheated spoke up.

"That has to be the dumbest fucking thing that's ever come out of your mouth," he snapped, lifting himself up to face him, and Opportunist was prepared for a stream of insults to be hurled at him.

But he was not prepared for Cheated to grab his face and pull him into a passionate kiss.

Opportunist let a sound of surprise out, but it was quickly swallowed by Cheated's lips, and the way his passion sent Opportunist's head spinning. He could taste the fire that he loved so much from Cheated, that conviction that he secretly admired.

When they pulled apart, Cheated was glaring at him as they panted. "There's no way that you could ruin us," Cheated said in annoyance. "I can't believe you would even think that."

Opportunist tried to speak, but he knew his brain couldn't form an argument right now- and then Skeptic gently took his face in his hands, tilted it back, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

This time, Opportunist whimpered into the kiss, feeling Cheated intertwine one of his hands with his.

There was so much love and affection that Opportunist wasn't used to, but now he was being smothered in it- and Skeptic was kissing him with such a soft confidence, as if he was certain of what he was doing, as if kissing Opportunist couldn't possibly be a mistake.

Skeptic pulled away, leaving Opportunist breathless, and at some point, Cheated had pressed up and closer to him, smiling at the two of them, stroking a thumb over the back of Opportunist's hand.

Skeptic smiled down at him. "Oppy, you would only be making us complete if you joined us." He felt Skeptic trace his lips with his thumb, and Opportunist swooned at the touch, at the way they were both touching him, making him feel so safe and loved like he's never felt before.

"So will you?" Skeptic asked, and that was when it hit Opportunist. This was real, this was real, this was actually happening-

Opportunist smiled, feeling more alive than he ever has before. "Well, it looks like I don't have a choice," he teased, and Cheated chuckled, sitting back down against Opportunist's chest and Skeptic pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"No," Cheated said with a satisfied smile, "you're ours now."

Opportunist couldn't of asked for anything better.