#then last resort breakup | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

himewonu · 2 months ago

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UNREQUITED CLUB ; choi seungcheol

summary it’s not good to resort to breaking hearts if you’re afraid to admit you’re still in love with someone else.

starring seungcheol x f! reader

genre angst，fluff (i might be lying)，unrequited love，mutual pining at some point (?)，uni au，reader does fashion designing

contains reader is kinda toxic，same thing with coups (they’re just both not good ppl)，breakups and leading ppl on，based on a true story。。。 sorry 97z

word count 6k ( thankyu sophi for proofreading ) | playlist bad religion by frank ocean, japanese denim by daniel caesar, secret door by arctic monkeys, all because i liked a boy by sabrina carpenter, fluorescent adolescent by arctic monkeys, green by 12bh, toxic till the end by rosé, first love by sondia

from rhin，this was originally gonna be a smau oneshot but i need to clear my penalties😭 (only 2k words left🗣️) anyways this fic is dedicated to my friend who doesnt have blr but her bias is scoups and she hates the dude cheol is based on😹😊🫰

You always thought you could do well with love. As a kid, you dreamed of marrying a prince after watching way too many princess movies. As you got older—going into middle school—your standards changed once you discovered a few dramas. A lot of them happened to have male lead CEOs, so you wanted a hot, rich man instead.

Eventually, those fantasies died down once you ended middle school. The boys you’ve encountered made you lower your standards and began to think that all boys were full of shit. But you figured you’d find better when you’re an adult. Sure, you’ve found at least some guys cute, but you knew way too much about them to never find yourself together with them.

It was only then that the first year of high school changed something in you. You knew a few older kids since you were family friends with them, and some of them had friends that would tag along. One of those friends happened to be Seungcheol. He was in tenth grade when you met him—just a year older than you. Always smiling and always said kind words.

From there, you’ve been crushing on him. You always thought he was different from all the other boys you’ve liked before. But you figured it was more of a you problem. You remember how you couldn’t even say a word to any guy you liked back then. However, talking to Seungcheol was a piece of cake. You two were close, and others always told you that they think he makes it obvious he likes you.

Back then, you wouldn’t dare to tell him how you felt. He was way out of your league, and you recall that he mentioned not being interested in dating. Plus, you liked it when you thought of him as a friend more than a crush. But like they say, the more you suppress the feelings, the stronger it gets.

Your feelings towards him lasted until his final year of high school. He was graduating soon, so you figured it was time to confess to him. You were hoping for a rejection, but he ended up reciprocating the feelings. Or, so you thought. Just a week before his graduation, he admitted to you that when he said he liked you, he meant it as friends.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, but all you could ever think of was how much he disappointed you. For a few days, you ghosted him, until the day before he graduated, he wanted to talk to you. Although he never liked you in that way, he still liked you as a friend. Neither of you wanted your friendship to be ruined all because of that.

You ended up attending his graduation, since you thought it would be mean not to show up to a friend’s important day. It was a bit sad though; you realized your final year of high school would feel a little bit empty. But you reassured yourself that you’d use that time to get over him, because he promised you that it’s okay if you still like him since getting over takes time.

So about doing well with love right now, you’re certain you’re ready for it. You hope you’re at least ready for it.

“I gave your number to Mingyu,” your friend brings up. You two were talking about the men in your biochemistry class, saying how they were either too old or too mid. There were only a few guys who weren’t too bad, and your friend gave your number to one of them.

“Mingyu? As in biochem Mingyu?” You quickly got up from lying down on her bed, looking dead into her eyes in case she was joking with you.

“Yes, that Mingyu. He’s been eyeing you for quite some time, so I told him I can get him with you.”

You wish you could tell her you’re not too sure about this. You have some mixed feelings; a part of you says to YOLO it, but another part is hesitating about it, and you’re not sure what is exactly stopping you. Mingyu is a nice guy, very nerdy, and tall. Lots of girls want him, but it turns out he wants you. What’s the worst that can happen?

A notification from an unknown number pops up on your phone. The message was from Mingyu, and he was asking you out to lunch some time. It took you a while to respond since you and your friend were getting giddy over it. But you ended up agreeing to have lunch with him.

The lunch date with him wasn’t too bad. He was super sweet when you two were conversing. He always kept complimenting you, and it made your heart skip a beat. He did it often, and your pounding heart began to feel sort of different. You weren’t feeling quite ecstatic, but you figured you were just nervous.

From there, you’ve gone on several dates with him, and at this point, you’re just waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. There’s no rush; he’s probably not ready, so you might as well wait for him. The more dates you go on with him, the more you’re hoping he doesn’t ask you. But on one date, he ends up asking you to be his girlfriend, and without thinking before speaking, you immediately say yes.

You never told anyone except your friend about the two of you being together, and you never found yourself with him during biochemistry. You weren’t too sure why you did that, but the relationship ended when you told him you couldn’t give him the same amount of love he gave you. That was only because you found yourself staring at Seungcheol for only two seconds. Your relationship with Mingyu lasted for only two months.

When you told your friend about the breakup, she was surprised that you didn’t cry about it. She kept pestering you to tell her why you broke up with him, only to get a vague response from you that you just felt bad. You weren’t sure if it was the pang of guilt for staring at Seungcheol or the fact that you didn’t actually like Mingyu, but you were sure it had to do something with Seungcheol.

“Hah, Cheol just sent me another stupid brain-rotted reel,” you say out loud to your friend, scrolling through Instagram on your phone while she does the same.

“Seungcheol? I thought you said you guys don’t text anymore." Your friend’s curiosity piqued right when you mentioned that name.

“No, no. We don’t text like that anymore, but we send reels here and there. He probably just does it to annoy me or infiltrate our DMs. The only time he ever texts me is when he’s waiting for me by the studio,” you tell her, not realising she never knew that you always meet up with him at the end of the day.

“He’s the one giving you rides on Tuesdays? I thought that was Mingyu.”

“Nope. Seungcheol takes the same route going to the dorms, so he offered to give me rides once a week.”

“Is that why you broke up with Mingyu?” Your friend’s question makes your eyes go wide. You close your phone and get up from resting on her headboard to look at her properly.

“I–” You don’t want to continue your words; it’s most likely something you wouldn’t want to hear, especially if it’s about Seungcheol. “I’m… starving. Let’s eat first and talk about that later,” you mutter, hoping she forgets about it later on.

You never ended up talking to her about that, and you hope she never brings it up.

Seungcheol places a cup of coffee on the table in front of you. You were resting your head on the table, but immediately lifted up when Seungcheol sat next to you. “You look like you were dying today, so I got you some energy.” You thank him for the drink and start downing it like you were parched for days.

He picks up your notebook and starts analyzing the draft you drew. “What’s this for?” He asks, pointing at the lazy sketch of a jacket.

“It’s for my fashion properties assignment. We have to make an outfit out of fabric given to us. Mine is leather, so I’ve been brainstorming how to make this jacket look cute but comfy. I already drew the skirt for it.”

“I think you can easily come up with something. Your designs are cool and leather looks hard to work with, but you’re always dedicated,” Seungcheol assures you, hoping you don’t crash out in front of him over this.

You scoff. “Hah, what do you know about fashion?” Pointing out his every-day lazy black hoodie and grey sweat pants combination.

“Okay, not everyone wants to wake up early and choose what to pair their tops with their bottoms! Some just pull out whatever they have,” he rolls his eyes.

“You would not survive fashion school,” you joke, making Seungcheol huff but grin. As much as he can be annoying and get annoyed by you, he’ll never take a joke seriously.

If only he knew how much he makes your day by his annoyance.

Life was calm. You were so close to finishing the leather jacket, only having to attach the pockets, but you decided to take a break and finish it another day. You still had to work on the skirt, but you had plenty of time—grateful that this project is due in six months.

While waiting in the mall for your friends to come back from the washroom, you were sitting down and sketching out a new design in your journal.

You were thinking of making a top for your friend since her birthday was coming up soon. She would definitely like a sweatshirt. Your name gets called out, turning your head in that direction, and you see your friends walk out the washroom.

The three of you walk around, thinking of what stores to check out. Jiwon brings up going to the shoe store nearby, so the two of you follow her. You roam around the store, looking at the different kinds of shoes. Platforms, Mary Janes, sneakers, boots, all kinds that were in your size and style.

“…Yo what the heck? I didn’t know you work here.” You overhear Jiwon. She was talking to one of the workers, most likely a friend of hers. He’s tall and kind of cute. His glasses sit on the top of his head, and you caught him glancing at you while talking to your friend.

You avert your eyes to the black loafers, picking it up as you examine them. Your other friend goes up to you and asks your opinion if she should get brown boots or black boots. After she tried both on, you told her to get the black pair since she already owns a brown one.

As you accompany your friend to the check-out, Jiwon goes up to you and says she needs to go buy some makeup after this. You looked at her friend, who was standing by the counter, catching him staring at you again. He quickly turns his head and walks away.

It only took a week later to meet Jiwon’s friend again at a café. You were sitting alone by the window and still sketching out the top for your friend, so focused that you didn’t notice someone was standing in front of you.

“Can I sit here?” He asks, making you look up. You nod and go back to sticking your head into your journal. He sits in the chair facing and starts a conversation. “You’re one of Jiwon’s friends, right?”

You put your pencil down and look at him. “Yeah, and you are?”

“Dokyeom,” he introduces himself with a smile, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

You shake his hand. “(Name).”

You got to know a lot about him and talked about how the both of you met Jiwon. He was her classmate since high school, and you met her in your fashion design courses. You ended up exchanging numbers, and the moment you left to go back home, you spammed your friend with multiple messages.

As usual, you laid on her bed while you yapped to her about him. It’s always been this way with every guy you both encounter since your high school days. You talked for a while, not even realising it was already midnight—at least it’s a weekend night.

You spoke to Dokyeom very often. Always texting during your lectures and even calling at night. Sometimes you would even call him while you were sewing. There was something familiar about him every time you talked, and it felt nice.

One time you were on call, he asked you about your ideal type. You never really had an ideal type, so you said common traits all your crushes had from the top of your head. “Someone tall, kind, and a cute smile too. I’d want them to be smart and productive as well.”

"So...me basically,” he jokes. You agreed without a thought and that conversation started your relationship with Dokyeom.

You really like him. He was kind and entertaining. He was always fun to your friends and was nice to everyone. He always took you out on dates and took you home. Unlike Mingyu, Dokyeom made sure that the world knew you were his.

He really loved you and wanted to show everyone that he did. And by every one, he meant every one. The news got to Seungcheol one day and it all just stopped. The daily brain-rotted reels he sends you ended up being three times a week.

He barely got a response from you to the reels, and you only reacted to the messages. He slowed them down and sent them to you once a week. The only time you responded to a reel he sent, he left your message on ‘seen’, and then stopped sending you reels.

It’s not that he hated you or anything. He just knew you had a boyfriend now, so he didn’t want to go against your relationship’s boundaries. He would still pick you up every Tuesday, but the car ride conversations were always about school now or sometimes silent. He never asked about Dokyeom, and you never brought him up.

Being distant with Seungcheol kind of hurt, but you knew you were just getting over him and Dokyeom was there to help you. Or so you thought. Somehow, there would be conversations you have with Dokyeom, and you would absentmindedly bring up Seungcheol.

The first time you did, he asked who he was, and he didn’t sound jealous, just curious. You explained that he was just an old crush from high school and that he was basically a distant friend to you now.

He got more curious about him so you showed him his profile once. He looked through his account and started saying how you downgraded so much, pointing out Seungcheol’s physique.

You didn’t want Dokyeom to be hurt, so you began assuring him that he was much better than Seungcheol. You admit that Seungcheol played you back in high school and that he’s not even all that. Ever since that, you would bring down Seungcheol.

You were convinced you disliked Seungcheol, but Dokyeom always thought otherwise. Even though you would talk badly about him, your boyfriend still listened to you talk about him.

“I think you still like him,” Dokyeom brings up while you were ranting about what Seungcheol did to you in your junior year of high school. You were taken aback and denied so quickly. “You talk about him more than me,” he mutters. You apologized and assured him that you care about him more than Seungcheol.

“You know it’s okay if you still like him,” he considered.

“No!” You retorted. “That’s just morally wrong! Why would I like another man while I’m in a relationship?! I don’t like him anymore, and I never will. I have you now, and you already make me happy.”

Dokyeom still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to see you angry again, so he just nodded and patted your head.

Another time you brought up Seungcheol was when Dokyeom asked you who your first love was. When you admitted it was Seungcheol, he already knew since you always talked about him. When you asked him who his first love was, all he did was point at you, and that already made you regret saying your answer.

I never will. You said that in hopes you won’t ruin your relationship because of an old crush. Why do you always find yourself talking about Seungcheol anyway? He did you so wrong, and you’re sure he doesn’t care about you. Why was he even your first love?!

A week later, you realized you were lying. After you told Seungcheol he doesn’t need to drop you off at your dorm anymore since Dokyeom could take you there, you ended up deleting his contact on your phone and unfollowing his Instagram. But after one car ride with your boyfriend, you thought about Seungcheol and what he really means to you. Dokyeom was right.

You went to Jiwon for advice about it, and she figured he would want you to admit it to him since all he wants is for you to be happy. That night, you confessed to Dokyeom that you still had feelings for Seungcheol, but it was only 1%—since 99% is for your boyfriend.

However, the more you saw Seungcheol, the feelings kept growing more. You never told Dokyeom, but you didn’t want to keep hurting him. On one random Monday afternoon, you met up with him at the same café you first met him and broke up with him on the spot. You never wanted to admit it was about Seungcheol, so all you told him was that you were just the problem in the relationship—which was true.

Your relationship with Dokyeom only lasted for six months, but for some reason, you felt relieved and free. It only took you a few days to realize that Dokyeom reminded you of Seungcheol, and you used him to fill that empty void since senior year. But no matter how loving Dokyeom was to you, you secretly hoped it was Seungcheol instead.

Guilt held onto you and convinced you that you were a bad person at this point. You knew you were going to die alone, but honestly, you’d rather have that than break someone’s heart again. Not only were you single—which you could care less about—you were still distant with Seungcheol.

You tried not to care, but every time you saw him on campus, it always hurt to think about how distant you two are. It got to a point where you walked past him and neither of you said hi. You figured he hated you until you once had a dream about him when you got a fever.

You were at a party, and all of a sudden Seungcheol’s friends made fun of you. You blamed it on him and left the party. The scene changed, and you were walking with your friend to your next lecture. As you walked down the halls, you noticed your mother’s friend was with someone, so you greeted her, not bothered by the fact that your “aunt” was at your university. That someone she was with ended up being Seungcheol. When he smiled and waved at you, you frowned and ignored him as you walked away.

You instantly jolted awake, sweating real bad as the headache you had earlier stopped. You looked at the time, 4:27. It’s Tuesday, and around this time, you would wait for Seungcheol to pick you up. You thought a lot about the dream and how you were so mean to him in that dream.

“I don’t want to hate him anymore,” you think to yourself. You open your phone to Instagram, look up his username, and immediately hit follow. Then you go to your contacts and type his number to remake his contact in your phone—still remembering his number and putting it in your phone like the first time you two exchanged numbers.

Right when he followed you back three minutes later, you sent him a message about how you don’t like the two of you becoming distant and wanting to start over as friends. He agrees, and you ask to see him over lunch.

The next day you met up with him for lunch, and he was still the same annoying Seungcheol: always watching brain-rotted reels while you two talk and always teasing you. It feels nice to have this back, and you’re glad the two of you are not going to be distant anymore. Well, you thought you two were on bad terms, but everyone, including him, never thought that. It should’ve hit you that he could never hate anyone, so what would make him hate you?

After that, you went to the design studio thinking about Seungcheol. You really do like being friends with him, and you’re sure you don’t like him romantically. You soon realized that you didn’t need to bring him down in order to get over him. Today made you realise why he’s your first love.

You finally finished the leather jacket and the skirt. You never realized how you never got to finish the outfit while you were with Dokyeom, but only being able to finish it when you were alone. The good part of being a single fashion designer is that you have a lot of time for yourself to design anything.

The bad part, though, is that people like you always make apparel for others but yourself. It took you a while to notice that the leather jacket was too oversized for the skirt. It’s a men’s jacket, and the measurements were for Seungcheol.

After handing in your design, you finally took some time to design something for yourself. Maybe some jeans or a cute sweater. Since Valentine's Day was coming up and you and your friends were invited to a party that day, you had an excuse to make a whole outfit for yourself.

You took several days brainstorming and sketching out what to wear, but you finally settled on something simple. Maybe you were too focused on creating your outfit that you didn’t realise Valentine’s Day was about love, and all of sudden all your friends had a date to the party.

“I can’t believe we’re the only ones without a date!” Your friend complains. “Even Jiwon is going with that red head guy!”

“Hey, we have each other. You should wear that top I made for you for your birthday.”

“I definitely will.”

The both of you lie down on her bed, except this time you’re not talking about guys. It’s not bad to not have a date, but you’ll be disgusted if you see your friends all over their dates.

“Hey, it’s kind of ironic how all our friends’ dates are all friends too. And they have three guys who still don’t have a date.”

“Yeah, no. Saerom tried setting me up with Junhui because she thought we’d be perfect for each other, but he keeps sending me cat photos. And didn’t he like everyone?”

“Yikes. I forgot his friend group is odd.” Right when you brought that up, you get a text from Minghao, Jun’s cousin. He asks you if you already have a date to the party, and you reply with a no. The only person from that friend group you can tolerate is Minghao. He’s pretty much normal, but he’s just a friend.

Minghao then asks you if you want to go with him to the party. “Oh, wow, Minghao is asking me out,” you say to your friend. “What should I say?”

“Yes! Are you crazy (Name)?”

“What about you, though?”

“I’ll be fine. I have Hayoung since she doesn’t want to go with anyone.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not going to show up.”

“Still. Just go with him!”

You sigh and send him a thumbs up. A part of you only wants to do this for the fun of it, but another part of you doesn’t want to since you like being alone.

The day of the party rolls by, and you just finished up the dress you were making for it. All your friends agreed you were all going there together. You quickly made a few adjustments to your dress in the car, putting the pack of pins in your handbag. If there’s one thing you can’t go out in public without, it’s a sewing kit.

You arrive at the house where it was being held, and you see several people entering. When you all entered the house, your friends easily found their dates and you met up with Minghao.

You honestly just wanted to stay with your friend, so you stuck with her as Minghao followed behind with his friend. No matter how many times you wanted to be with your friend, your other friends and his friends always pushed you into Minghao’s arms and took pictures.

You felt that same pang of guilt when you were with Mingyu and Dokyeom. You know that feeling a bit too well, and all you want to do is leave the party with your friend. You eventually gave up and just stuck with Minghao for a while.

As you left him to go get a drink, you bumped into Seungcheol, who you thought doesn’t go to parties like these. "Hey, I thought your mom banned you from going to parties." He mentioned as you two walked to the kitchen.

“I thought you don’t go to parties? And my mom doesn't care anymore.”

“My friends convinced me to go here.” He picks up his phone, and his screen reveals ‘Mingyu’ as the person calling him, making your heart drop. He answers the call, hanging up seconds later. “Which, speaking of, are looking for me. I’ll see you around (Name)!” He walks the other way, and you leave the kitchen without a drink in your hand, only leaving with a pounding heart.

You went back to Minghao and told him you were going to go home with your friend, and you left him without giving him a chance to say goodbye. Honestly, you hope Seungcheol didn’t see you with him and hope that none of your friends upload those photos.

You looked for your friend and left the house together. Instead of going back to the dorms, you two just walked to the nearest convenience store to just hang out and calm down.

“So you don’t like Minghao?” Your friend asks as you look through the candies in the candy aisle of the store.

“I like him as a friend, just not in that way.” You confirmed, picking up a pack of gummy bears and following your friend to the drink aisle.

“I heard Saerom’s man was the one encouraging Minghao to ask you,” she points out.

“Junhui got pissed at me because I took his last person he was going to be with, like I kept telling him he can have his cousin!”

“What made you want to leave, by the way?”

You stayed silent as you watched her think of what beverage to buy. She looks back, waiting for an answer. “I think it’s because of me.”

She picks out an orange soda, and you two make your way to the cashier. “What do you mean?” She asks, in the middle of paying.

“I think I just like being single.” You two leave the store and sit down at a table right outside, placing your stuff on the table.

“And that’s okay. It’s not bad being single,” she assures, putting down the drink and holding your hand with one hand.

“I know it’s not. I just don’t do well with love; I keep hurting guys.”

“I can tell. I was there when Mingyu asked for your number, when Dokyeom said he was your ideal type, and when Minghao asked you out.”

You sigh and chuckle after. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m such a manipulator. I just led on three guys.”

“(Name) as much as I love you, that’s not something to be proud of.” You nod in response, repeatedly muttering a bunch of ‘I know’ to her. “You always keep saying it’s about you and your emotions. But have you ever considered it’s about Seungcheol?”

This is what your friend has wanted to discuss since your days with Mingyu. You knew your breakups were because of Seungcheol, but you never realized it wasn’t him, it was about him. That feeling in your heart you had earlier when you saw your ex’s name on his phone brings you back to freshman year.

You like Seungcheol.

“I think I still like Seungcheol,” you admit to your friend.

“All because you saw him earlier? Cause I saw you two talking in the kitchen,” she brings up about that little interaction that made you aware of your feelings.

“No. I think I always liked him, but I was in denial about it. Just think about it. I caught myself staring at Seungcheol while I was with Mingyu. Dokyeom told me I talk about him a lot. And well, Minghao never reminded me of him.”

“I figured. Whenever I asked you if you were going to be with your man, you were a bit soulless. No offence, but you were never excited when you talked about them. Now that I think about you, when you were with them, you never talked about them at all to us.”

You lowered your head, mentally slapping yourself for doing that. “It was so different from Seungcheol though. Every time you looked at Seungcheol and talked to him, it wasn’t the same with the others. I saw stars in your eyes. You didn’t like him; you were in love with him.”

Your friend is still holding onto your hand, ignoring the fact that you’re in the middle of having a heart to heart in front of a convenience store.

“(Name), I think all you needed was to be honest with yourself. It’s okay to love Seungcheol. No matter how many hearts you break, you’re not a bad person. It just shows how caring you are. You can still be friends with him even if all our friends hate him. Even though I think what he did to you back in junior year was so messed up, you were so strong to go through that heartbreak. You are amazing and loving, and I want you to tell that to yourself every day.”

With your free hand, you cover your eyes with it. Your friend gave you tissue paper from her bag, as she was quick to notice that you were tearing up. She moves herself closer and brings you into her arms.

“Choi Seungcheol is one lucky man to have you love him.”

You got your leather jacket and skirt back, getting a 98% on it. As long as you got over the nineties for it, you’re happy. You only lost a few points for making it a men’s jacket instead of a women’s jacket.

Since you got the jacket back, it would make sense to give it to Seungcheol since it’s clearly his size only. Your friendship with Seungcheol has been calm ever since that heart-to-heart with your friend. He still picks you up from the studio, but instead of taking you to your dorms, you two go on little side quests for fun.

The weather has been getting warmer, so you two would go wherever to hang around outside. He picked up a hobby of taking photos due to a friend of his gifting him a camera. So every time he would drop you off at the dormitory, he would take a picture of you in front of the building.

“Open your sweater so you can show off the new shirt you made,” he requests, looking at you through the lens as he watches you zip down your sweater. You made an unserious shirt, printing a picture of a sock monkey on it.

After hearing camera clicks, he puts the camera down. “Cute outfit,” he points out.

“And we need to work on your closet!” You tease.

He rolls his eyes and tells you good night, driving off when you tell him to rest well tonight. Right when you turn around, you face Jeonghan, who happens to be one of Seungcheol’s friends and lives on the floor above you.

“Wow, and Jisun said there was going on between you two,” he remarks. If there was anyone nosy about you two, it would be Jeonghan. According to Jisun, several guys—including Jeonghan—would ask about you and Seungcheol, some of whom she didn’t even know by name.

"Yeah, cause we’re friends,” you confirm, heading to the elevator as Jeonghan follows you in.

“I asked Seungcheol if he still likes you, and he said he likes you as a friend only.”

Even though you’re quite annoyed by him, you still manage to respond to that. “Well, he never had feelings for me, so he’s valid for that. Plus, I like it that way.”

“So you can’t be delusional anymore,” he jeers as the elevator comes to a stop on your floor. You step out of the elevator, hoping Jeonghan just minds his own business and stays in there.

“I like being his friend anyway, Yoon Jeonghan,” you mimic his tone as you watch the doors close in front of him.

You’re not wrong with your words, though. You love being friends with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol and you are on your usual side quests after he picks you up from the studio. This time there were bands performing at a nearby park, so you went there to chill. You brought the jacket, but held onto it considering he’s going to assume it’s yours.

As you picked a spot to sit down, there was already music and the sky was getting dark soon—before that, you two went to feast yourselves with cheap ramen and an unhealthy amount of soda.

You hand him the jacket without saying anything; he takes it with a puzzled expression displayed. “It’s the leather jacket I was designing a few months ago. I accidentally made it your size,” you speak up, smiling as you watch his perplexed expression turn into an ecstatic smile.

“Accidentally? Or did you intentionally make it for me?” He jokes as he puts it on, making you push his shoulder.

“This is going to be the last time I’ll ever make you something.” You snootily look away. He laughs and apologizes—always apologizing after he makes fun of you.

You two stayed silent as you swayed to the music. It’s calm and sweet. You could stay in this moment forever, nothing and no one to bother you. Right now could be a good time for Seungcheol to make another stupid joke, but he seems to be enjoying the music too.

This is what you need. Nothing romantic with him, but close to him. The sky was dark, and you pointed out the fairy lights hanging around the trees. Seungcheol lies down his head on the grass, now staring at the sky, as you follow along.

“Sky is too cloudy to see stars,” he mentions. You avert your eyes from the sky to him, turning your head to comfortably gaze at him. He was still looking up. You don’t expect him to look back; he never does. But you enjoy this, just intaking his unforgettable face.

“Thank you, (Name),” he mutters, “for coming here with me.”

You don’t respond right away, still listening to the music. “Of course, but I’m sorry,” you let out, now turning your head to gaze up at the sky again.

“Sorry for what?” He asks, your no-context apology makes him look at you now, watching you stare at the non-existing stars—just like his love for you.

“Still being in love with you.”

svt masterlist .ᐟ

#[ macaworkz ]#k-films #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt #svt x reader #scoups x reader #scoups x you #seventeen x you #svt x you #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen angst #svt angst #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol

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whencartoonsruletheworld · 20 days ago

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imagine being melissa hat. you are 15-16 and going on a private plane to a very important soccer match (which you probably won't even have to play in) and then the plane crashes and burns and only one adult survived and he's lost a leg and half his sanity. you spend over a year starving in the wilderness, learning how to fucking survive on your own and mostly doing that by staying out of whatever the FUCK drama the main team has going on. because they've got SO much shit going on and you BARELY know these girls. so you stick with your own small group of... are you friends? just teammates? whatever it is, you're with them.

you watch one of the really kind players explode in fire when she tried to get help. a smaller group tries to get help and comes back with one of them half-eaten by wolves. the team captain has a breakup with her best friend (who you're kinda crushing on ngl) and fucking freezes to death outside. winter gets so intense and you're literally eating your own belts and finally resort to eating the team captain's corpse. the girl you're crushing on gives fucking birth in the middle of the wilderness and the baby is stillborn and she's screaming that he's alive and she heard him cry. on the same night, one of the girls you're "friends" with disappears into a blizzard and you never find her again.

there's this one girl who's kinda become everyone's cult leader. usually you'd be a little against worshipping the wilderness as an elder god BUT this girl also walked outside right before winter started and a bear came out and kneeled in front of her and she killed it and provided enough food to tide you over until the cannibalism so you know what, maybe she's got something going on. anyway your crush beats the fuck out of her and she's dying and you can't have that because she's the last shred of hope and meaning you all have, so you draw cards to decide who is going to be killed and eaten. the girl who gets picked runs and you join in the hunt to chase her. a child dies instead and you eat the child. the cabin burns down that night and the one adult you had left probably did it.

you spend the next months building your own fucking shelters in the wilderness and you finally get your crush to pay attention to you and yeah she pointed a knife at you but she also kissed you so that's a bonus. you still barely know her friends but that's okay, you're having a great time being gay in the wilderness because we all left homophobia behind like week two. the adult is tracked down and put on trial for trying to kill you. you vote to execute him but when it's decided to keep him prisoner your girlfriend prods you into slicing open his achilles tendon to cripple him. he eventually dies and you eat him. suddenly three random hikers come out and you think for a second you can go home but then the cult leader axe-murders one of them and another literally shoots you with a crossbow. your girlfriend abandons you and your friends spend all night trying to get the arrow out of your body, eventually pushing it through your body.

your girlfriend promises you she didn't mean to abandon you, really, and so you're okay, totally. they brought back two of the hikers and they're gonna take you home and you can finally have a bath and go to school and brush your teeth and eat french fries. but THEN. your girlfriend and the cult leader call off the rescue at the LAST MINUTE. when you try to talk to the scared hiker you're keeping prisoner your girlfriend stops being toxic and just becomes straight-up abusive and also nearly shoots you and makes you piss yourself in public. when you try to leave again she once again kills your last hope of escape.

you spend a winter again in the woods and all of your friends that are left die around you. all of them. you eat them. all of your friends. you are left alone with your abusive ex and all of her friends. you get rescued and all you have left, the only people who understand you are your abusive ex and all of her friends. they barely know your name. you didn't talk to any of them until the last winter. and you know they will kill you if you say anything. all you have is your abusive ex and her friends.

you fake your death solely to get away from your abusive ex and through a series of poor decisions end up play-acting at a normal life for the next decade and a half, pretending to be a normal person while you also have to look your crimes in the face every day. because you gay-married the daughter of the woman you murdered and had a child with her. and didn't tell her who you are. but that's okay because you've totally put it behind you

then, through another series of poor decisions, your abusive ex breaks into your house, accuses you of murdering the ex-cult leader and trying to kill her, attacks you with a knife, then bites off a chunk of your arm and forces you to eat it. you escape in a car but it runs out of gas and all her friends show up and kidnap you, drag you right back to where your abusive ex attacked you. abusive ex is still there and they talk about killing you, about how they've killed other people and covered it up, also they're pretty sure abusive ex was the one who killed the cult leader and not you, and at this point you either try to escape or try a murder-suicide. it's unclear. but you're all about to die from a gas leak and then one of the ex's friends is standing over you with a knife saying that if she kills you the wilderness will cure her cancer.

so you know what i think she was a little bit justified in stabbing her way out of the situation

#melissa yellowjackets #melissa hat #yellowjackets #yj spoilers #yellowjackets s3 #yellowjackets season 3 #mine

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frankoceanluvrr · 1 month ago

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𝐅𝐀𝐔𝐗 - 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐏 —𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

pairing : peter parker x fem!reader

summary : you and peter were bantering, and he claimed you wouldn’t be able to ‘survive’ without him. you took it as a challenge, and broke up with him — just to see how long he’d ‘last’.

warnings : fluff , so no warnings !

a/n : oh my god i took a 3 year long break😭😭 i read back my old one shots and my grammar was terrible !! i hope i have improved now - but if you see i need any corrections , please let me know! Thank you for 71 followers while I’ve been away!!!!

“Yeah — no offence, sweetpea, but you’d totally die without me,” Peter claimed dramatically, his legs half hanging off your bed.

He had a teasing grin on his lips as he took in your offended expression.

“You think I’d die?” You asked, hand on your heart theatrically, “seriously, you think that little of me, babe?”

“.. yeah.”

That got a pillow whacked in his face.

“Ouch, unnecessary. I was kidding.”

“Kidding my ass,” you roll your eyes, “you think I’m dependent on you.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” He shrugged cockily, “you’re dating like, the greatest superhero like.. ever. I wouldn’t blame you.”

He nudged his nose into yours affectionately as your expression grew more offended — earning yet another whack in the face with a pillow.

“We should break up,” you stated bluntly, which made him perk up.

“Babe, what?” He laughed incredulously.

“You heard me,” you grin slightly, pinching his cheek a little harder than you should’ve, “It’ll prove I’m not dependant on you.”

“Oh, is that right? Is this a challenge for you, bug?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re cute.” He grinned, pecking your lips.

You snickered, pushing his face away with your palm, “take me seriously! We’re broken up! You can’t kiss me. Or see me. Or do anything with me.”

“Fine.. fine. I’ll let myself out then, ex-girlfriend.” He sighed dramatically, rolling off the bed.

And, with that, he genuinely left the room.

—

The week following this encounter would prove to be absolute hell for Peter. He’s 99% sure he’s getting withdrawals from the absence of your relationship, and this isn’t even a ‘real’ breakup.

Well, it felt damn real. He’d even looked at photos he’d taken of you with glassy eyes as if you’d passed away and resorted to clutching a sweater you’d left at his place while he slept just to smell you.

He definitely wasn’t coping well. In all fairness, you weren’t coping well either, but he didn’t need to know that.

He eventually caved in on day #8 of this faux-breakup, and found himself stood at your door at approximately 12:35am. He looked shattered, his usually messy curls even messier. His pyjama shirt hung lazily over his frame. It’s clear he just got out of bed and had rushed out to see you.

You opened the door in your pyjamas, looking equally as tired. You squinted at him, letting your hazy eyes adjust. Then when you realised, you grinned victoriously.

“What’s this, hm?” You lean your side against the door frame, studying his expression.

“Look,” he sighed softly, swallowing his pride, “you were right, baby. I’m a wreck without you. Utterly dependant on you. Please take me back.”

“And?”

“And.. uh.. I love you?” He said, trying to get extra brownie points, “can we please get back together now? You win.”

“Mm.. no. No. Grovel a little more,” you teased softly.

“Sweetheart,” he practically whined, “please.”

You hummed softly, resting your palms upon your hips, “admit I’m the prettiest, funniest, most perfect girlfriend in the world, then I’ll consider.”

"Baby, you know you're the prettiest, funniest, most perfect girlfriend in the world," he began, his tone bordering exasperated. “That's what I call you behind your back sometimes," he said with a wink, jokingly pretending to boast about his words.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him another grin. God, he adored your smile. He felt himself melt just looking at you.

“Please,” he said softly, his palms gently curling around your waist.

“Say it like you mean it,” you murmured, tone equally as soft.

He rested his hands on the small of your back. He dipped his head, letting his forehead rest against yours.

"You're perfect," he said, "and I'm sorry for being an idiot," he added, before lifting his head and placing a light but gentle kiss on your nose.

"Can we please get back together now? I miss being your boyfriend," he whined, a hint of playfulness and begging in his tone.

“Fine,” you sighed, as if it were the most strenuous task you’d ever been asked to do.

He grinned victoriously, mirroring how you did when he first showed up at your doorstep.

“Don’t look so happy,” you murmured teasingly, leaning in to kiss his lips.

He kissed you as if he’d just won the lottery.

#marvel x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #marvel x you #spiderman x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #tasm!peter x reader #x reader #peter parker #fluff #spiderman fluff

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aphroditesmoon · 1 year ago

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'cause I love this curse on our house

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: !THIS WAS A REQUEST THAT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED! the requester wanted a fic about clarisse and reader breaking up after an argument, and after months apart from eachother, reader appears at the ares cabin at 3am because she couldn't sleep without clarisse.

warnings: sparring violence, angst, hurt/comfort, arguing, fluff at the end.

a/n: im sooo sorry I accidentally deleted ur request😭🙏 but I hope this is to your liking, and thank you for your kind words🩷🎀

wc: 3.1k

"I never learned to lose a fight, I never learned to grow upright. this is who we are."

-back to you, flowerface

----

Clarisse wondered to herself, on whether or not you'd come running to her if she were to stake this spear through her chest.

Surely, you would? Sensible, independant and stubborn you.

She knew it'd take more than some flowers and half assed apology to get you to speak to her again, and with that knowledge in her head, she isn't sure what that would mean for your relationship.

Clarisse La Rue would rather die than be caught begging for your forgiveness. She would also consider maiming herself as a last resort for any problem she's ever had.

But it has been 3 months, and everyone knows about the 3 months rule.

3 months into dating, 3 months after a breakup. And yet so far, neither of you have tried to "happy new years" your way into eachother's life again.

It is a painful observation for the girl to make. And it's more painful for her to admit that she is at least 40% in the wrong.

That is the thing about the two of you, you become abrasive everytime you're upset, and Clarisse becomes confrontational everytime she is upset. On a normal day, those traits are opposite.

The truth was, Clarisse knew deep down how flawed she is as a person, and as a lover. She is a fighter at heart.

And though she'll admit, she's one of the best out there, being the daughter of a literal war god, but sometimes it feels like that's all she's good for. Does she want to love? Yes. Does she know how to? Not really.

She loves the early hours with you before everybody wakes up, trying to convince you to stay longer in her bed before you sneak out to avoid being noticed.

She loves the intimacy of your hands instinctively intertwining in a cabin party where the music is too loud and people are brushing against you in almost every corner as they try to dance or make their way out, and no one is paying attention to how her thumb caresses your knuckles.

She loves your lips, and how they feel around her neck as you bury your head in the crook of it from behind.

And at one point in the past, she loved how easy it was to be with you. Not the deep connection or understanding, but the way you wouldn't hold it against her if she were to pretend she didn't hear say hi as you walked past her. And how you didn't mind sneaking into her bed after midnight and the darkness becomes the only witness of your loving glances and tight embraces.

But Clarisse was quick to realize later on. that she might want more than that with you. It all felt impossible. Her reputation, her need to always look the toughest and never having a visible weakspot that might be used against her in the future.

And exposing you as her Achilles' heel, would mean that everything she's worked so hard for would break down into pieces the moment the news is out.

Her father already views her as a mistake. Something that could never be his. And for that she's had to work twice as hard as any of her siblings, and still be the least worthy in his eyes.

Were you worth risking all of that? She doesn't know. She doesn't think she ever will, now that it's all over.

And what about you?

What part did you play in cutting down the fragile line of rope the two of you had stood on?

Well, you were strong, opiniated, and rational. So fucking rational that it pissed her off. While she was losing her mind watching you laughing and giggling in the corner by a tree with some random dude that looked like he was birthed by a rat hybrid during the end of year party being held in camp. You were completely fine with not being with her.

Of course she knew that whatever going on between you two was a secret, but why were you so fine with it? Are you not affected by her the way she is with you?

"I'm playing the game by your rules, this is what you wanted." You had snapped at her after she dragged you away from your boring date into a secluded part into the forest. "This isn't a game." She had blurted out in frustration.

"Isn't it? Whenever you want me, I'm there. Whenever you don't, it's like I've never existed." And you were right. This was what she wanted. Despite herself and her feelings, this was how she treated you.

"We know we're together, why does anyone else needs to know that?" Clarisse asked instead of telling you what she really wanted to.

"Are you ashamed of me, Clarisse?" She could not answer your question. I'm ashamed of myself. She thought.

Can't you see? You are the only person who's been patient enough to wait for me, to stay with me. But then I'm looking for you in every crowd just to see that you don't even notice my absence.

Oh fuck it, in the end of the day, it would've never worked. Her thoughts countered againts one another.

Clarisse La Rue was born angry, all she ever knew to be, is angry. Her shortcomings is her inability to be gentle with those she loves the most, her need to break and rip every sensitive soul that has ever pitied her enough to try and pull out that ancient rage holed up in her chest.

"You were nothing without me. I found you, I gave you something to care about, something to anchor yourself to. Cause gods, you act like you don't give a shit, but you care so much that you make yourself believe that you don't care about being tossed aside, like it doesn't hurt you when I don't look twice on your way in front of other people."

The way she looked at you as she spat each and every word onto your face, was worse than the things she had actually said.

You scoffed at her, even with tears in your eyes, you glared at her and laughed out bitterly, refusing to sob or break under her stare.

"You know what your problem is, Clarisse?" You asked, even with the cracks in your voice, her spine shivered. "Indulge me." She forced out.

"You are so miserable, that you can't stand to see anyone else that isn't. You just need me to be pissed and devestated so you could feel better about yourself. Cause Gods forbid if you don't view your self worth on how less everyone else is." Clarisse says nothing, she knew you weren't finished.

"But I don't need to fuck over anyone else's life to know that I'm good. I'm perfectly fucking fine. I was fine before you, and I'll- I'll be fine after you." And there it was. That was where it all came crashing down.

Clarisse bad one second to say fuck all, to cut down all the bullshit. To admit that for once in her life, she was tired of fighting, and she had no clue what she's doing.

But as she opened her mouth to say it all, something in the shadow of her ego had restrained her tongue from speaking at all.

And so you watched her close her lips tight, and grieved then apology she never gave, the girl she couldn’t be for you. And then you left.

Everyone steered clear from Clarisse's way, unsure of what was getting on her nerves, and not caring enough to want to know.

And that night became the last time the two of you have ever spoke to eachother.

"Clarisse." Her brother's voice snaps her out of her thoughts. He was in position with his spear.

"Aim for my chest, remember to move your feet like taught you." She instruced him, fixing her own stance. "Go."

The boy moves quickly, and just like she envisioned in her head for ten thousand times in the just a few minutes ago, her feet drags.and her hand slows down for a second- because all it took is a second for the spear to slash her chest, and slams her down on her back.

---

Growing up, you had always earned the title of the "easy" one. Compared to your step-siblings, you had caused the least problem, required the least attention, asked the least questions.

You always knew what to do. You took care of your siblings when your parent couldn't, you knew how to take care of them the way your parent would. You knew when to get things done before you were told to, you knew where the pills were whenever you weren't feeling where. And you knew which secrets were better kept to yourself.

That one doesn't need watching over, they'd say about you. Even as you're being sent over to camp quick enough before the monsters acended, you were still not worth being worried over.

Someone who takes care of others so well, sure knows how to take care of themselves, right? Right.

Of course you're self sufficient, of course even know, you know where to find medication before your sickness gets worse. Or course even now, you know just the right things to tell people so you'd be left alone.

That was the bright side of raising yourself and growing up in an environment that made you feel so alone, you get used to the silence as the company gets smaller and smaller.

But no one ever said that loneliness felt good, even as a person who's found comfort in it. Because the truth of it, is that it's the sinking feeling in your stomach that you get addicted to. It is the repetitive cycle of breaking down that feels like home, because that's the only constant thing that have prevailed in your life.

What Clarisse had given you, with her presence, her rare tenderness and welcoming touches, was something new that had altered your entire defense system. Hope. She had given you hope.

And as you stood in the house that fell all over you, surviving the damage just like you always do. You realised just how stupid you were to even think that this time it would be different.

The news of Clarisse's injury spread like wildfire. And after repressing your emotions for the longest time, you felt your chest tightening from a familiar feeling.

Clarisse have taken blows before, but never this bad, never this serious. You know that she'd heal in time, but it doesn't stop you from worrying.

How could she be so stupid and careless? Being slammed down by a younger sibling nonetheless. Even if she has no regard for her physical safety, she must have one for her pride.

She's never so easily distracted or foolish, this injury and including her little spear incident has been looked upon by others as a moment of weakness for her. They are starting to wonder if Clarisse was ever that competent in the first place, or if she has just been making it look like she is.

You tossed and turned on your bed. The sheets don't feel right against your skin. It must be the heat, you tell yourself. It must be the heat because it cannot be the deprivation of Clarisse's cold skin from yours.

Demigods do not medicate the same way mortals do, and yet without anyone knowing, you've been swallowing down melatonin almost every night to be able to fall asleep.

It's not easy to get, the last hidden stock of it from the medical room finished 3 nights ago. And if no one had noticed your sleeping problems before, they do now because of your visible under eye bags.

Your hands have been shaking, a side effect of mortal drugs. It has also been making you more jumpy, anxious.

The worst of it all is how all those symptoms only worsens your sleeping problems now. As if seasonal depression itself isn't bad enough, now you're capable of staying up all night revisiting old haunting memories.

It's easy to distract yourself in the day with all the training and learning to do.

But no one survives the cruel coldness that the night presents itself with. When your only friend is the empty ceiling staring back down at you, and the only kind of blanket you want are the ones that feels like her arms.

It was ironic, you still wanted her the way a kicked dog would still roll over if asked to.

You had left her with your head held up high. But only the gods know how low to the ground you'd kneel down to for her to look at you again the way she used to.

If she had wanted you more lenient, then she could've just asked. If she had needed you to need her more then you would've begged for her if she would've just told you.

Pushing aside the soft material of your blanket off of you, your feet barely makes a sound as you tiptoed to the door to exit your cabin.

You told yourself you don't really know where you're going. But you moved in the same way you had 3 months ago, the road is memorized, the pace is as similar, and the yearning is twice as strong.

The moom followed you from above, lightimg the way as you walked on the ground from the pavements to patches of grass.

When you found yourself in front of the Ares cabin, you truly asked yourself if you have even an ounce of shame or sense left in your head. The answer was none, all that lived inside of you was dread, ever growing. The last straw before the breaking.

The last chance that looks a little too late to be taking for.

And yet as you pull open the door ever so slightly the way you used to, you feel it being held static before a creaking noise could be made. And like memories you've seen flashing in your mind multiple times before, your eyes meet Clarisse's.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing up?"

You spoke at the same time as her. Both of you looked as surprised as the other.

As you took in eachother's appearance, Clarisse looks at you expectedly, considering that you are the one who isn't at your cabin. "I...wanted to see you."

Her expression changes slightly, as if she wasn't expecting that answer.

"Weird hour to visit." She noted. "Weird hour to be up by the door after you're slashed on the chest by a spear."

The two of you stared at eachother in silence before you notice Clarisse's chest heaving as she breathed out a low sigh. "Do you want to come in?" She whispered out to you. You nod your head once and waited for her to move aside so you could be let in.

Naturally, your hand found hers. She clasped her fingers over yours without a question as the two of you walked towards her bed.

Sitting dowm side by side, you eye the outline of her face closely in the dark, some sort of relief is released in your chest. "How bad is the damage?" You asked slowly. You almost reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face, but caught yourself.

"Could've been worse." Was her response.

"Does it hurt right now?" You inquired again. You hear her inhale sharply and wondered if breathing was hard for her. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry." You weren't sure what else to tell her. To know that she was in pain had hurt you as well, but a larger part of you did not really care for her injury. Only now do you realise how much being away from her have affected you.

Now, in much closer proximity, your breathing fans her skin, the back of her hand touching yours, and her eyes unmoving from yours, do you realise just how much you needed Clarisse La Rue.

"It doesn't hurt as much as having to watch you leave." She spoke those words in a hushed whisper, meant only for your ears. If only dhe has been a little louder. You would've been able to hear the halt in the back of her throat. "No?" You whispered back to her. "No."

"I wouldn't have left, if you would've just asked me to stay."

"I know. I know you would." She mutters it affectionately, the cold shoulder already gone. "I know you would...you've always been good to me."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and held your tears in. "Then why didn't you?"

Clarisse shrugged. "I'm never good to you."

You frowned at her reply, feeling a jolt of anger striking through you. "But you could be. Why won't you be good to me, Clarisse?" Water gathered in your eyes, your primise yo refrain from crying broken.

"I would give you anything. I would give you my life. Could you just be good to me, Clarisse?" You told yourself that you wouldn't ask this question again, no matter how much of a dog you feel like, you won't force her to give you a bone.

And so with a tear running down your cheek, you looked up at her pleadingly and thought, please, see me, want me, love me. Need me the way I need you.

Her forehead softly rests againts yours, and you hear her then, mumbling."I could be good. I could be good to you."

Her thumb finds the wet streak on your face and wipes it off. "I want to be good to you."

"Then do that. It's that easy." She shakes her head lightly, making your frown deepens. "I've had to be this person that everyone expects me to be, because of my father, and my siblings. Sometimes giving in, feels like it could be death itself. Sweet dreams before you wake up in hell. That's what it feels like trying to be the person you want me to be. Punishment worthy."

"But it isn't death, Clarisse. Not just because someone else thinks it should be.

- Not just because your father thinks so."

"I know." She answers with a more reassuring tone.

"I haven't been able to sleep without you." You tell her out of obligation. "I can tell." She joked, the both of you chuckled lightly.

Clarisse then crawled over her bed to lie down and tugged you by your sleeve to find your place in her embrace again.

Laying your head above the area her chest was struck on, her beating heart becomes your lullaby. You fell asleep soon after, with your legs tangled together under the covers. Whatever was to happen tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. Because the worst was over.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo series #pjo tv show #dior goodjohn #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson

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littlelovelunette · 1 month ago

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Reverie

This is heavy dark romance, read at your own discretion !!

Tags: @lavacakecon @ekkosh @windnoggin

Contains heavy angst, drug abuse, alcohol intoxication, mentions of physical & emotional abuse, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome (?), stalking, mentions of self harm and suicide

Also contains smut, strap usage, spanking, bondage, hair pulling, slight fingering

Blood on the ground, water on the ground— your mind was hazy when you collapsed to the cold tile floor, hair all over your face.

The breakup had been messy when Sevika concluded she needed to give full attention to Zaun, and couldn't get distracted with a relationship.

You weren't too much of a needy partner, you had been good to her but then why were you the one suffering?

Hot tears used to fill your eyes the moment you'd think back to the way she just easily broke up with you as if the relationship meant nothing to her.

Sevika knew how much she meant to you, how much the bond you both shared had healed you from the traumas of your past but despite knowing all that, she abandoned you.

You were back to square one, eyes almost closing as you stared blankly up at the ceiling. The coldness of the tiles sent goosebumps on your arms and legs, if only she'd been here...

Without her by your side you were spiralling back into deep depression and resorting to substance abuse as a relieve from the emotional and mental distress.

You barely left the house anymore. So much so that your skin was pale as if you were a bedsheet ghost, and the sun hadn't kissed your skin comfort in weeks.

But you didn't know that through the cracks of the door, the keyhole, the little gaps at your now boarded windows— Sevika was always watching. She had people keep tabs on you.

She knew what drugs you were doing, what knife you were using when you cut yourself, and the specific time duration it'd been you locked yourself in with a silent promise of never allowing yourself happiness again.

You lost Sevika once and it broke you. You needed to build your walls up higher.

No matter how much it hurt. No matter the cost...

You were Sevika's everything and still are, that's why seeing you throw your life away broke something inside Sevika's usually hardened heart.

You were the one person who was able to make her feel things like sympathy, love, affection, cuteness aggression.

You forced yourself to sit upright and leaned your head back with a soft groan. Everything hurt.

Everything.

You considered ending it all, but a little part in yourself told you that Sevika would probably be back one day and you didn't want her to see your last in a coffin or hanging from the ceiling of your apartment.

The sun was setting when you finished your second bottle of alcohol. Your movements were sloppy because of the drugs in your system already affecting your brain, the alcohol only added to the blunder.

Your eyes were unfocused, the ceiling seemed so high. The floor seemed so hot, your body felt itchy all over the place. All the sensations were overwhelming you. You closed your eyes.

Darkness.

Utter darkness. Some sort of static filled your brain.

You were floating.

Were you even alive?

What time was it?

Where was Sevika?

Was Sevika alright?

When you came to you were tied down somewhere cold and dank. You could smell the iron-like smell of blood somewhere. What even was this place?

You raised your arm.

Only it didn't comply because of the shackles and cuffs holding it down. Both arms actually. You pulled at them and a clinking sound filled the room, echoing in the distance. Your eyes squinted in the darkness and you saw someone sitting at the far end of whatever place it was.

The smoke of a cigarillo hovering around them, you squinted again. Sevika. It was Sevika. All the words that rised to your throat made you let out a small choked sound. "Wh..."

Sevika put the cigarillo out and walked upto you, "What's wrong with you?" She crouched to meet you eye-to-eye. "Tryin' to off yourself?"

"Don't wanna do this." You slurred.

"Wake the fuck up, this ain't a fairy tail!" Sevika pulled you closer using the collar of your neck sending your head lolling to the side because you were still inebriated. "Life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, I thought our breakup should've taught you that already."

"H... Huh?" You couldn't quite comprehend what she even was saying. Your gaze fixed on her beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking, angry face.

Sevika sighed.

"You're high. Drunk. Both." She got up, pulling the shackles making you blubber and choke. "Until you get better than what you are like right now I can't let you out of these." She jingled the shackles to make her point. "You're a danger to yourself."

"N-no." You slurred. "I'm okay, I'm just... High."

"Yeah, I know." Sevika sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fuck." She walked back to the chair, sitting down there as you remained there on the floor with your legs sprawled on the ground and hands shackles to the collar of your neck. You let out something close to a whimper. "Please."

"Please what?" Sevika raised a confused brow.

"Keep me." You said making Sevika question all her decisions that led upto this. She got up.

"Freaky." She mumbled before she left the room.

You looked around and tried to make more sense of what was happening but it didn't make sense to you. Why was Sevika being this way? Being so difficult?

She broke up with you, broke your heart into a million pieces and you got addicted to drugs and alcohol as a relief from your problems. Now you're chained to a wall by Sevika who said she wants to keep you safe from yourself?

Talk about mixed signals.

As a few more hours passed, your high wore off and you started to make a bit more sense than before. Sevika returned, keys jingling when she opened the door.

"Where am I?" You asked meekly.

"My basement." Sevika answered after a moment's pause. She was holding a tray of something that seemed close to food.

You stared dumbly as Sevika crouched down to your level. "Eat." She ordered and held out the bowl of soup for you. It was rich coming from Sevika who had a diet of cigarettes and alcohol.

You looked down at the bowl of soup offered to you. Your hands were shaky when you held them out to take it making Sevika sigh. "Nevermind."

You thought she'd deprive you of food because you were so weak you wouldn't even be able to hold the bowl upright without spilling some. But to your surprise, Sevika started spoon feeding you.

She scooped up a spoonful of the warm broth and held it to your lips, her expression unreadable. "Open." She muttered, as if the whole thing was a nuisance.

But she waited.

Patient.

Your jaw hurt so did your whole body but you forced your mouth open eitherway, bottom lip trembling. Sevika took notice. She always did.

She pressed the spoon past your lips, slow and careful, like she knew you were too weak to handle anything rough. The warmth spread through your mouth, down your throat, soothing the ache in your stomach.

You barely had the strength to keep your head up, but Sevika was already scooping up another spoonful.

"You're pathetic like this." Sevika grumbled under her breath.

You would've cried. You were sensitive enough to with just a simple insult Sevika threw at you on a daily when you both had dated. Your lips trembled, pressing down and your nose scrunched, the corners of your lips twitching a little.

"Just eat." Sevika said, her voice a tad bit softer. Maybe, she regretted saying you were pathetic. "You'll feel better." She added.

After spoonfeeding you the rest of the soup, Sevika remained there crouched for a while before she reached one hand out to hold the side of your face. Her grey eyes softening. You could see how her dark lips slowly parted as if she'd kiss you, leaning in and in before...

"Your temperature." Sevika suddenly said, putting her big hand on your forehead brushing your hair away so she could feel your temperature. "Your skin's so hot."

You grinned slightly. "Maybe I'm dying." Your voice was a weak croak.

"Don't you dare." Sevika glared at you before she got up. "I'll get you something for the fever."

She looked down at your form on the floor, chained to the walls. She thought, "But of course staying in this cold basement isn't the most ideal if I want to keep a fever off of you."

She didn't say anything, the keys made a satisfying clicking sound and the chains holding you to the wall fell off. Now you were remained with the ankle cuffs and chains that connected them together so you couldn't run. And the collar on your neck chained with the cuffs of your hands.

"Up." Sevika grabbed you by the underside of your arm and dragged you upstairs and into her bedroom. She let you lay down on the bed so she could tend to your fever.

The next few days were a blur. You were bedridden ill and Sevika took care of you as if nothing had happened between the both of you. As if you weren't a prisoner held captive. As if you both were back to being each others' everything.

She made you feel like nothing had changed. You believed her too...

"You need a shower." Sevika said as she used the keys to take the cuffs off. Fourteen days and the cuffs were finally off. You rubbed your wrists, looking up at her with those innocent, pity-worthy eyes. Sevika got up. "I'll be in there with you so don't even think of trying something funny."

You knew she was referring to you trying to drown yourself. But you yourself knew you wouldn't try that. These last fourteen days may not have magically healed you completely, but you had more hope than before.

Hope that maybe someone did care to take care of your fever-weakened self. You watched as Sevika stripped you off your clothing and you instinctively hid your body.

Sevika's body froze at that movement from you. "I won't hurt you." She said in a whisper. You hesitated but then put your arms to your sides.

The older woman led you to the shower room and pushed you inside. You complied and to your awe, Sevika pulled her shirt over her head as she stepped in too.

"What?" Sevika asked flatly once she caught you staring. You didn't say anything and simply outstretched your grabby hands, making the grabbing motion.

Something that always softened Sevika when you two were together. Sevika's gaze softened and she looked at the running water of the shower as if conflicted.

"We shouldn't be doing this." She leaned closer so you could touch at her breasts.

"But you kidnapped me."

"Yes, and that is exactly why we can't be doing this. We're not together. You're my prisoner, that's it." Sevika was lying to herself and you knew it.

"But you love me." You looked up at her, the water drenching the both of you. "You love me so you kidnapped me to take care of me."

"She's fucked in the head." Sevika thought but didn't dare say it out loud. Instead she said, "I wish I could deny that." Because a part of her knew it was somewhat the truth.

She kidnapped you because you were a threat to yourself and she didn't want that. Sevika sighed and buried her face in the crook of your neck.

You wrapped your hands around her waist. "Sevika." You mumbled her name softly, liking the way you weren't screaming or sobbing her name out.

Sevika put the cuffs back on your drenched naked body. She bent you on the bed so you were on your hands and knees, pulling your waist back so your ass was visible to her.

"Arch." Sevika ordered.

You let out a small whine but complied. Sevika smirked, hand grabbing the plush of your ass. She knew it was wrong but it had been years of no sex. No brothel. Just missing you.

You wanted this and so did she.

Sevika positioned her strap over your pussy. "Ready, slut?" A small whimper left your lips but you didn't dare deny such an opportunity. "Ready, daddy."

You gasped when she she was slammed inside your cunt, a lewd wet sound coming from your greedy pussy. You clenched down on her thick cock, whimpering.

Sevika grabbed the chain of your wrists, pulling them back causing the collar to choke you since they were interlaced. "Daddy, I'll be good!"

"Oh yeah?" Sevika smirked and slammed herself deeper inside causing you to tremble.

She let go of your arms and pulled your ass up further, delivering a firm smack making it jiggle from impact.

"Please." You buried your face in the sheets. "Harder. Daddy, please. Harder." You moaned.

Sevika, a little shocked you'd beg to get fucked any harder than this, complied either ways.

"Oh you want me that bad?" Sevika grabbed the back your head, fingers tangling in your hair and she pulled it back sharply eliciting a loud whine of pain and pleasure.

"Ow! Daddy..." You moaned like a true pornstar when Sevika thrusted hitting your cervix with the tip of the dildo.

Sevika's grip on your waist tightened, mechanical fingers digging in your skin causing bruises to form. You were a mess, drooling and crying in pleasure.

Oh how you dreamt this was what it would be like to be on Sevika's strap again getting railed from the back. Hard and fast.

Just how Sevika liked it. Just how you liked it.

Sevika's guttural groans and pants in your ear made the knot in your stomach twist almost painfully as you pulled at the chains causing them to clink every wet thrust.

"Daddy, please I need to come!" You screamed causing Sevika to chuckle again. She slapped your ass again, letting go of your hair so she could hit deeper.

Her hands bringing you closer to herself. The strap scraped against the walls of your pussy making you whimper and bite the sheets. "Co-co-coming, hhhng." You moaned in a high pitched tone as your body shuddered, coming undone on Sevika's huge strap.

A slow victorious smirk formed on Sevika's lips when she pulled the toy out. "What a slut. All for daddy." Sevika grabbed your collar and brought you in for a kiss.

You moaned in the kiss, feeling her fingers deep inside your pussy teasing you as she kissed you.

You knew you'd be here in Sevika's apartment with her longer. Far longer than expected.

134 notes · View notes

cuteandhughesy · 6 months ago

Text

Cool | Jack Hughes

summary: after your breakup with jack, you thought your EP release party would be dreadful- especially after your single about him is the biggest hit. what happens when you see him at the party and all past feelings come rushing back.

[word count] 3.8k

a/n: based off this request! hope you enjoy what I’ve done with your idea! also I used sabrina for my little album mock ups, so that’s that 🤍

🎵 cool by gracie abrams

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when you and jack met, it was anything but glamorous.

working in music was something you'd always wanted to pursue, but the journey of getting into the music industry isn't always easy. sending demo after demo to different record companies was coming up short, and as a last resort, you'd decided to post a video showcasing your talents on tiktok.

it blew up - the cover of one direction's night changes was heard on every video you'd scroll by. people were using your audio as background noise for there own videos, continuing to further your success.

nessa barrett and her team had reached out not longer after your up-roaring success, asking if you'd like to be featured on one of her songs on her upcoming album. nessa had expressed her love for your style of singing and iceralll vibe, and thought you'd be the perfect final piece in her creation. you'd obviously agreed.

the day of recording was an eventful one. not being able to fly out to LA to record, nessa's team arranged a studio session in new jersey where you lived and because they'd put so much effort in for you - you didn't want to disappoint them.

but the recording session wasn't the craziest part of your day - the journey home was. your mom had called you, frantically trying to plan your younger sisters 21st birthday while you exited the recording studio. trying to calm your mother down, insisting that 5 different balloon colours was too many (especially when your sister only liked pink), all while digging through your tote in search of your car keys, left you rather distracted.

you’re rudely brought back to the reality of the busy sidewalks around you, when you walk into something hard. you phone slips out of your hand on impact, falling to the icy ground below. just as that happens, the person you'd inevitably ran into, spills their drink on you - hot chocolate stinging your chest through your white hoodie.

"shit, i'm so sorry." the smooth voice is instantly spewing apologies, and large, slightly calloused hands reach out and hover over your coat covered arms.

finally, you look away from the hot chocolate dripping off you, standing the white snow, and meet the deep blue eyes in front of you. you dance over his soft, round features - following the littering of freckles and moles on his face.

his brows are furrowed in worry, deep gaze trained on you as he attempts to asses you for injuries - darting between the hot chocolate stain and your rosy cheeks.

you shake your head slightly, "no, it's okay. I should've watched where I was going."

"same - my brother and teammates were heckling me about my choice of hot drink - ironically enough, I wasn't looking in your direction. I'm sorry again." he swallows nervously, running a sticky, hot chocolate covered hand through his brown hair.

you notice then, off the the side against one of the brick buildings lining the streets, a small group of guys. they're moving between shooting you both amused looks, and hiding their embarrassed grins behind there hands. you think that must be the brother and teammates in question.

"don't apologize, it was an accident." you sigh gently, forcing a somewhat happy smile on your face. although you're not actually mad at this stranger, it was still an inconvenience and you're glad this happened after your studio session - not before.

you lean down to. collect your cellphone and see that your mom is still on the line. the chances of her still blabbing on about party supplies and not noticing your absence is very high. "I'm y/n."

the ghost of a smile rests upon his lips, "jack - and again, so sorry-"

"yo, hughesy," one of the teammates call, one hand cupped around his mouth to further echo his voice. "we should probably go, coach wants us at the meeting in 15 minutes." he sounds foreign, but if it wasn't for the lingering accent you'd have no idea.

"can I at least get your number? I want to buy you a new sweater." jack insists, already digging out his phone from his black, puffy coat pocket.

you smile, "you really don't need to."

his brow quirks up in a playful manner, and his smirk is almost teasing. "so I can't have your number?"

you giggle gently and start reciting your 7 digit code to jack - the warm, sticky chocolate stain covering your front long forgotten about as you are consumed by the handsome stranger.

like promised, jack had bought you a new white sweater from aritzia - a much more expensive, better quality sweater than your original adidas one.

you and jack had very quickly become close, and started dating only a month after your run in outside the studio. you shared your aspiring music career, and your hopes moving forward in the industry. jack had also told you about his career, and how hockey pretty much took up all his time and energy. but you didn't mind it, because you new your boyfriend was following his hopes and passions - just as you are.

what you weren't expecting was the specific fame that came with jack being in the nhl. in some ways, you weren't shocked that you boyfriend was one of the most sought out nhl player by women, because you knew he was attractive, young and talented - but you were surprised with just how intense these women can be and how you were feeling about it all.

you were pretty good and working through any jealous feelings with jack, and he'd always reassure you that the comments, dms and videos were just stupid talk - rumours.

and you'd always believe him - you loved him and trusted him despite everything and everyone else rooting against you. it wasn't until a year after dating and being in love with jack, that you reached an unseen breaking point - the hurt and jealousy coming to a hill top, teetering on the edge of falling away.

you watch him wordlessly, stewing in your own emotions- a mixture of jealousy and anger very prevalent in your demeanour.

jack scrolls through your dm messages just as quiet as you, his soft brows pulled together tightly to create two deep frown marks. he looks up at you again, because yes, this is the third time he's read though the messages on your phone. "nothing happened, y/n. these messages are just trying to get you," he pauses, waving his hand frantically in your direction, "like this."

you scoff, "so i'm overreacting?"

"no," he huffs, "you're not but I don't understand why you're not believing me."

"jack...multiple people have messaged me and said they saw you and your ex spending time with one another at the bar! some even said you two were dancing together! this isn't just one person, it's 10."

"yeah 10 people who saw my ex and I in the same location and immediately started talking about it to you - trying to convince you that something was going on!"

when jack left for his week long road trip with the devils to the west coast, you'd never would of expected to it end up like this. after a devils win, the boys had gone to one of the local bars to have some greasy food and a beer - let loose for one night, regardless of teaming staff's recommendations. oddly enough, one of jacks ex-girlfriends had moved out to LA to finish her degree, and so happened to be at the same bar as your boyfriend and his teammates.

your instagram dms flooded. multiple people claiming they saw them talking, and dancing. one message even said she caught them kissing off towards the back of the bar.

you just snapped.

it was too much of a coincidence and too many witnesses for you to just 'trust him'.

"don't you trust me?" jack questions, locking your phone and setting it on his kitchen island. the tv from luke's room is louder than it was when you first got to the brothers' apartment - probably trying to block out the argument.

you feel yourself getting emotional. you eyes start to blur with tears, and you blink desperately to try and clear your vision. "I did! I do! it's just," you pause, taking a shaky breath. "this is too much. I can't keep pretending all this attention isn't killing me...I can't keep just hoping it's all rumours. I love you but I can't keep sharing you with the world and feeling like the laughing stock on social media."

"then don't share me!" he stresses, taking a quick step towards you. jack almost reaches out to touch you, but he decides against it, not wanting to push you away any further. "please, just don't believe them...believe me. nothing happened-"

"there's pictures jack." you whisper. tears begin to fall from your glossy coated eyes, falling down your flushed cheeks.

"picture of us just talking, barley talking if anything-"

"yeah but you didn't even tell me- social media did."

jack pauses, his eyes full of a swimming pool of emotions as looks down at you. he doesn't have an excuse, because you're right - he didn't tell you.

even though pictures only captured your boyfriend and his ex talking, nothing more, how could you believe his words and broken promises when he couldn't even be honest about a so called innocent talk.

you sniffle, "I need space."

"okay," he nods, "I can drive you home and then tomorrow we can talk again, okay? we can get breakfast at the cafe you really like and just figure this all out."

"no," you correct, "I need space from us."

"what?"

"I can't do this anymore - the rumours, the comments and the complete disregard for my feelings. I just need to figure it all out...alone."

with your new heartbreak came a whole new lyrical world. you put your uncertainty, jealousy, anger, and sadness onto paper - which birthed your very first single on your small EP.

releasing your song tilted cool immediately had fans speculating your and jack's relationship. the lyrics hide nothing about the rumors circulating around the hockey community, and once you and jack stopped posting together and not spotted with one another - your break-up was confirmed to the world.

your EP, titled sucker, was a collection of four, self-written tracks that perfectly captured the emotions you'd gone through (and still dealing with) in the break-up with jack.

and sucker in its fullness and greatness, was being released tonight. your newly appointed manager through your record company, insisted throwing a release party for you and the already overwhelming successes of your single, cool, and the upcoming EP.

so here you stood, in your frilly pink dress that perfectly matched the colour of one of three vinyl variants - happily greeting friends, musicians, and fans as they pulled into the event hall. the space was covered in astonishing, expensive looking decorations to bring the atmosphere to life. streamers, shiny balloons, multi-coloured lights, and many more beautiful items.

you take a sip out of your fourth champagne flute, trying to keep your excitement alive, while trying to keep your earlier nerves at bay. you wanted your peers and fans to love your art, and you wanted them to feel proud.

you swallow the bitter drink, looking away from the crowded room and over to the large procedure screen against one of the wallpapered walls. half and hour until midnight - thirty minutes until the world would here your most precious emotions. in thirty minutes the judgment would start, and the hate....in thirty minutes there'd be no more secrets.

you sigh gently, looking through the crowd. as per request, everyone was dressed in either pale blue, cream or baby pink, matching each album variant. it makes the whole ordeal feel even more real, and that sends the flutter of butterflies in your stomach loose - your body going numb and warm.

"y/n," a familiar voice calls your name, and instantly your stomach feels funny. you look over towards the source of the greeley voice, and are meet with the tall figure of luke hughes. he's smiling widely, the same smile you'd see when he actually finds something funny or when something brought him joy, and he's wearing the pale peach colour of your record - a nice, button up with appropriate, matching bottoms.

you force yourself to smile back, pushing away any prior emotion and worry. "luke, hey." the tallest hughes brother embraces you in a friendly way, congratulating you on the success of your career.

you separate, and instantly, your smile falters. behind his brother, stands jack. he looks just as uncertain as you feel, looking at you with a mixture of sadness and hope. his tanned, calloused hands are shoved into his dress pants awkwardly, bunching up the hem of his baby blue shirt. the colour brings out his eyes, making the usual ocean blue look brighter.

he clears his throat, "hey, congratulations."

you're almost in shock, and you can't look away from the man infront of you. before you realize, luke has slipped away from you both, your once buffer now nosying around the food table - shoving cheese and crackers into his mouth.

you blink. "jack, what are you doing here?" you're not angry, and you certainly don't sound it. your tone is very soft, bordering on emotional- your overwhelming internal energy now presenting on the outside.

"I always said I'd show my support for you - no matter the circumstances. I'm so proud of you, y/n."

you say his name again, an almost warning tone lacing your words. you can't do this with him, especially tonight on top of all the other thousands thoughts running through your mind. "thank you for the support, jack but i'm not sure what you want me to do here."

his brows furrow, "I don't want you to do anything except celebrate yourself, but I do think we need to talk-"

your manager comes skipping over, guiding you away from your ex-boyfriend as she explains what you'll be doing next. with the music releasing in the next few minutes, she's asking for you to make a brief speech about the night and the upcoming EP.

you shoot jack an unapologetic look over your shoulder, rounding into the grand living space of the rented extravagant house.

jack follows slowly behind, and just as you're walking onto the stage, right infront of the countdown display, he settles near the back of the room, watching you with a guilty expression. he shouldn't of said anything to you, especially on your special night - especially when he can see how overwhelmed you are.

you tap gently on the microphone, checking the sound. the echoing noise grabs the busy crowds attention, the once chatty laughter coming to a slow halt. you smile warmly, "hi, everyone."

people smile and clap excitedly, some people even cheering at your greeting. your smile doesn't falter, and neither do your nervous butterflies. your wrong your hands out nervously, a typical nervous habit you've always done. "thank you all so much for coming out here and showing your love and support for me and my career. I'm so overwhelmed with joy at the thought of my small piece of art being heard by all of you and I can only hope that you'll love and enjoy the three new songs as much as cool."

through the bright lights, familiar and unfamiliar faces, your gaze finds jack. the sight of him as your nerves changing, and somehow you feel yourself become calm under his gaze. you clear your throat, "with less than three minutes to go, as just want to say that all these songs are so personal and raw with emotion and I just want to remind anybody who can relate to these lyrics and music that it's okay to feel overwhelmed, or angry, or jealous, even when you know there's no reason to feel that way."

once again, you find jack at the back of the room. his face hasn't changed, and you can't quite read the expression he's showing. without looking away from him, you continue. "finally, I want to thank you for believing in me and always supporting me. from tiktok, to my first feature and single - now my EP. thank you for everything, I love you."

you blink, finally tearing your gaze away. "all of you! get ready, because these are the emotional, up and downs of sucker!"

the crowd roars in excitement, counting down the last minute before the tracks will be shared. you slip off the stage, forcing smiles to the crowd as you slip through bodies and crowds of people, trying to get out of the bustling, loud and overwhelming room.

everyone is unaware of your motives, and because everyone is gathered in the same room, it makes your space easier. your shoes echo in the empty hallway, heels clicking up the grand staircase as you ascend upstairs.

you find an empty, unlocked room and slip inside quickly. it's a cleaning closet, and now you can understand why there's no lock on the door. it smells strongly of lysol and clorox, but the strong smells provides a nice distraction from your frantic breathing.

you move further into the room, pressing your back to one of the cool, metal shelving units. it was all feeling like too much - the party, the EP releasing, seeing jack....you can feel your stomach turn just at the back and forth motion from the thoughts in your brain. you close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

suddenly, the sound of your opening track gets louder, turning from muffled vibrations into full, coherent sounds. your eyes snap open, just as jack enters the room with you.

your chest tightens warmly, and the heartbroken girlfriend in you desperately wants to reach out and let jack pull you into his embrace- providing his usual calming comfort.

jack shuts the door behind himself, letting the silence once again consume the small cleaning closet. his cheeks look rosy in the dim light, and his hair is pushed back like he's been running his hand through it over and over.

“are you okay?” he asks gently, taking a step closer to you.

“no, jack,” you huff through disbelieved laughter. “i'm so confused and overwhelmed and I don't know why you're actually here. do you want an apology from me? is that why you want to talk?”

“no,” he replies, “I want to talk because I was wrong.”

your brows furrow and your confusion is evident. “what do you mean?”

jack takes another step towards you, “I shouldn't have lied to you and I immediately should've told you that I saw my ex and had a brief conversation with her - even though that was the extent of it. I made myself look guilty and because of that, I made you feel like you couldn't trust me.”

he continues, eyes swimming with emotions as he keeps his gaze locked on you. “all your feelings about what happened are absolutely valid and i'm sorry for being the cause of your pain. that song, cool - I know it's about me and when I heard it, it solidified how badly I screwed up.”

you frown uncertainly. “why now? why are you saying all this now?”

“because the guilt of it all is eating me alive. I couldn't go an hour longer with you thinking that I would ever cheat on you. even though I talked to my ex for only that minute in LA, I shouldn't have been so sketchy about the situation. I should've reassured you, and listened to your concerns and I should've told you as soon as it happened - end of story.”

he pauses, asserting your face of emotions. jack sees the way your eyes have glossed over, but your shoulders are still broad - indicating that you’re upset, but not uncomfortable. you’re still here, listening to his apology. with that, he continues. “you don't need to forgive me, and you don't even need to say anything, but I just wanted you to know that i'm sorry for how I handled the situation that I very easily could've fixed. I love you….so much and i'm so proud of you and I don’t want you to think anything but that.”

you blink and look away from him, sniffling away any lingering emotion. hearing jacks apology has solidified so much for you and the situation a few weeks prior. the second track on your EP is vibrating through the floor, the bass lined chorus tickling the soles of your feet through your heels. softly, you set your gaze back on jack - who’s soft, guilty expression hasn’t changed.

“I agree, you should’ve mentioned the situation with your ex before I found out through social media, and you telling me that you recognize how that made me feel and how it made you look, has me feeling so much relief.” you take a shaky inhale, “your apology means so much to me because I love you and I should’ve truly expressed how I was feeling about everything, instead of arguing, deflecting and shutting down. I trust you and I always have but I was feeling angry, and jealous about the slinky feeling of it all.”

“you still love me?” he breathes shakily, a ghost of a smile beginning to pull at his mouth.

you nod, your own bright smile gracing your face - shining through the dim, bleach scented closet. “I love you.”

jack releases a visible sigh of relief, and he closes the gap between you in favour of gently taking whole of your warm face, softly caressing your plump cheeks affectionately. you smile as jacks thumb subconsciously runs under your lash line, collecting any tears before they can fall and ruin your makeup - something you’d complained about often.

“I love you.” jack repeats, his words a breathless whisper as he leans down. his nose nudges yours once affectionately, before slotting next to yours comfortably. then, thankfully, jack presses his lips to yours in a much missed kiss.

you don’t regret the raw, jealous and angry emotions you’d put into your new EP - all those emotions being directed at jack and the miscommunicated situation. you’re proud and excited to help others going through the same heartbreak as you did.

and with jack here now, kissing you like he’s done a thousand times, you’re looking forward to the blissing relationship to return, as well as the amazing career ahead of both of you.

you can’t wait for the love songs you’ll create - all because of jack.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

a/n okay I hope this was okay! I didn’t edit it because i’m a lil lazy (whoops) but the idea was fun and cute! also when I was writing I didn’t want to be too on the nose with the song or lyrics of cool, so I did the best I could:) also I added visual links for the colour and outfits of the reader, luke and jack!

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #new jersey devils imagine

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sadseungmin · 9 months ago

Note

Hiiiiiii can you write something about reader trying to breakup with phsycotic/yandere Chan 🥺 Only if you can babes❤️

♡ breaking up with a psychotic bang chan ♡

psychotic bang chan x afab reader | dead dove | nsfw (MDNI)

p.s. i hope this is to your liking, anon!

⚠︎ tw: non-consensual elements (i.e. forced breeding), physical violence, threats of murder

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!chan will emotionally manipulate you *✧･ﾟ:*

Chan resorts to intense emotional manipulation, exploiting your insecurities and fears to make you feel guilty and unworthy. He convinces you that no one else could ever love you as he does and that leaving him would be the worst mistake of your life. He recounts every positive moment you two have shared and proclaims these moments cannot be recreated with another. Essentially, you are manipulated into questioning whether ending things with him is the right choice.

"Baby, you're not making sense. After everything we've been through, after all the time I've poured into loving you despite your flaws, why would you want to give up on us—on me? Who else is going to take the time to learn how to love you unconditionally?"

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!chan will physically abuse you *✧･ﾟ:*

Chan uses physical violence to assert his control over you and instill fear. He yanks you close by the hair, roughly wrapping your locks around his fist so tightly that your scalp pulsates for hours afterwards. He also enjoys choking you until you almost pass out, slamming you into walls with a grip around your throat that leave behinds finger-tip shaped bruises. Whenever you're helplessly within his grasp like this, Chan leans in incredibly close and makes it clear with a cold, stern expression that he won't tolerate any of your attempts to leave. The violence is terrifying, but Chan deems it necessary to keep from losing you.

"I'm trying to be patient with you, baby, because I love you to fucking pieces, but you're being so damn difficult. Every time you try to leave me, it brings me closer and closer to snuffing your life out, because if I can't have you in this life, I damn sure will in the next. Don't make me go there, baby. No more talk of leaving, yeah?"

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!chan will forcibly breed you *✧･ﾟ:*

Chan is desperate to bind you to him for the rest of your lives. He believes that having a child together will ensure you can never leave him. He sabotages your birth control by replacing your contraceptive medication with disguised sleeping pills. Several times a week, you wake up to Chan thrusting wildly inside of you, whispering potential baby names with each forceful, animalistic thrust. And when he paints the inside of your womb white, he whispers to you how pretty you'll be as a mother and how excited he is to watch your tummy grow from his seed. All you can do is lay there, feeling full and hot inside, tears beading in the corner of your eyes as you realize you don't remember the last time you had a period.

"Oh, shi—Gonna fuck a daycare into you, y/n! Gonna keep you plump and round and full. You'll make such a perfect mommy, baby! You'd never abandon me then, right? How could you when we'd have Tzu...Yeong...Byeol...Eun...Iseul...Wonsi—"

#bang chan #skz bang chan #bang chan x reader #skz bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan headcanons #skz x reader #skz headcanons #skz imagines #yandere skz #yandere bang chan #yandere!bang chan #yandere!skz x reader #skz #dead dove do not eat #anon request #sadseungmin

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holylulusworld · 7 months ago

Text

Sewer Rat (1)

Summary: He broke your heart. Now he must pay for it.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former Mobster!Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, scared reader, Bucky is scary as shit, mentions of a breakup, Tony is the worst in this (sorry), mentions of groping

Sewer rat masterlist

He leans back in his expensive leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other. The kingpin of his own castle of blood, fear, and power smirks at you because you hit the bottom.

Coming here was your last resort, and you’ll do anything he wants.

He knows it. You know it. His men aiming their guns at you know it.

James Buchanan Barnes. Cold-hearted and calculating boss of the most feared organization in town. Well, except the one your boyfriend leads—or rather ex-boyfriend.

“What can I do for you, doll?” He clings his pinky ring against the glass filled with the most expensive whiskey a man can buy for money. Bucky watches you with those cold steel-blue eyes, making you shrink into yourself.

“I—” Your voice cracks. “I need your help.” You bite your lower lip, chewing on it. “I think you already heard what happened.”

“Oh, that—” He smirks while his eyes are glued to your trembling lips. Bucky enjoys your predicament; you’re sure about it. “It spread like wildfire that you are no longer Tony Stark’s arm candy, doll.”

“I wasn’t his...” you trail off. Bucky is right. After what happened a few hours ago, you know you were never more than a body he could use. A pretty thing to dress up and show off to his friends and allies.

Bucky takes a small sip of his drink, humming as the amber liquid burns on his tongue just right. “You were only his pretty doll to play with,” he insists as you drop your gaze and nod. Beggars can’t be choosers, so you’ll just let Bucky throw everything he wants your way. “Now that he’s done playing, he tossed you onto the street.”

“Mr. Barnes,” you say, and take one step toward Bucky, causing his men to unlock their guns. Your body goes stiff, and you hastily lift your hands in the air. “I-I…” You whimper in fear.

“Guys, relax,” Bucky laughs. “We checked her on weapons, didn’t we?” He quirks a brow and looks in Steve’s direction.”

“Rumlow did,” Steve replies, and goes back to watching your every move.

“Hmm…yeah,” Rumlow replies. He licks his lips as you drop your gaze. “She was soft and warm but not armed, boss.”

Bucky makes a face but doesn’t say a thing. Rumlow can get a bit handsy when it comes to pretty ladies. He doesn’t blame him, though. “So, no weapons, gentlemen. Please relax and secure your guns. I’d hate to shed her blood.”

“Got it, boss,” the men murmured in unison and secured their guns. “What are our orders?”

They expectantly look at Bucky, awaiting his orders. He leans forward, eyes glued to your exposed legs. Bucky licks his lips before he washes the taste of victory down with the rest of his whiskey.

“I want her to tell me what happened tonight,” he smirks and winks at you. “Come on, doll. Amuse me.”

“He kicked me out,” you stubbornly glare at Bucky. He’s enjoying this a little too much. “You already know that, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky’s features darken. He slowly rises from his seat to stalk toward you. Bucky grips your face with his metal hand, making you whimper in fear.

“If I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me. Tell me every little detail, Y/N.” He leans closer to breathe in your face. You can smell the alcohol he drank and his cologne.

“He told me to leave, believing I am cheating on him,” you splutter without thinking twice. If Bucky wants to know every detail, you’ll give him the full heartbreak experience. “I tried to tell him that it’s not true, but Tony wouldn’t listen. He saw me with an old friend and assumed the worst. That old friend is in town to get married. He asked me to meet up with him to catch up. I used to work at the library with him.”

“What else?” He whispers in your ear, almost gently. If not for his metal hand holding your chin in a tight grip, you’d believe he’s a gentle man wanting to flirt with you. “Doll. I want to know everything.”

You sniffle. It’s so hurtful to repeat the words Tony threw at you after he dragged you out of the showers. Not half an hour ago you made love, and then he kicked you out of his life.

“Please don’t make me say it.”

“I want to hear everything, or you can go out there and try your luck,” Bucky growls in your ear. “I’m waiting. Time is running out on you.”

“He called me a sewer rat, and that he regrets bringing me into his life,” you choke out a sob, remembering the hatred in Tony’s voice. “He said that it would’ve been if he left me out there for dying.”

“And he just did that, didn’t he?” Bucky steps away. His hand drops from your chin as you look at him with watery eyes.

He’s not wrong. Tony pushed you out of his house in nothing but a towel. You barely had the time to grab your bathrobe before you ended up on the sidewalk in front of his house.

Bucky’s eyes drop to your bare feet. Now dirty and full of blisters. You had to walk toward the next house, begging them to allow you to call someone for help.

None of your so-called friends answered. Suddenly you were dead to them. You left the house, sitting on the sidewalk, until a black SUV stopped right next to you. Calling Bucky to beg him for help was your last resort. You remember his number because Tony saved it under “the devil.”.

“So, you came here to ask me for help?” Bucky laughs in your face, but you can’t find your situation funny. “You got that I’m your sugar daddy’s enemy.” He quirks a brow when you stubbornly lift your chin and glare his way.

You square your jaw before you nod. “I know you hate each other and that you’d love to take over his empire.” You smirk now as you get something out of the pocket of your bathrobe. “If you promise to help me get revenge on him, I’ll help you bring him down.”

You throw Tony’s little black book in Bucky’s lap. “What’s that?”

“A list of people he pays to look the other way,” you take a careful step toward Bucky. “This is a pledge of our confidence, and such a pledge is justified only if you do your part too. If so, I can help you bring him down.”

“How?” Bucky smirks as he thumbs through the little black book. ��You were his bed bunny, not his right-hand man.”

“Oh, didn’t you know that men love to talk about business in bed? During sex, after, or while I suck them off?” You snap at Bucky. “Tony is very talkative, close to an orgasm, or after. All men are.”

“You’re a little vixen, huh?” Bucky seems to be amused, but his mind is running a mile in a minute. If you know more about Tony’s business, Bucky could easily take one of his biggest enemies down. “What do you want in return?”

“You will protect me until I’m back on my feet. I’ll need a little money to leave town and start anew somewhere far away from here. Whatever you do to Tony, I don’t care because I won’t be around when it happens.”

Bucky looks at the little black book again. He heard about it through the grapevine. Tony Stark is an old-fashioned man in many ways. He loves technology but doesn’t trust it enough to save his contacts on his computer.

“If you can deliver me more information, you’ve got yourself a deal, doll,” he holds out his hand, smirking as you reluctantly shake it. “Steve, make sure that Natasha gets my new informant new clothes and toiletries. Rumlow, tell the maid to prepare the guestroom next to my bedroom. Y/N and I have a lot to discuss, gentlemen. Please leave us alone now.”

The men leave the room without a second glance. Only Steve, Bucky’s best friend since childhood and the most trusted man, stays put.

He watches you with interest as you stand next to his friend. Lion with its prey. Steve thinks to himself. He pities you because you have no clue what you got yourself into.

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mafia au #bucky barnes x you #x reader #former tony stark x reader #mobster!bucky barnes

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clever-ludicrous · 2 months ago

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How to Actually Learn a Language (Without Wasting Time)

Polyglots will do anything to sell you something, so here’s the fastest and most basic technique based on my research.

—

Step 1 – Getting the Absolute Basics In

This is where most people already get lost. If you search social media for how to start, the advice isn’t necessarily bad, but it often makes you dependent on a single resource, usually an app that will eventually try to charge you. Duolingo, for example, has turned into a mega-corporation that perfected gamification to keep you on the app.

Remember: free apps make money by keeping you on their platform, not by helping you become fluent.

At this stage, the goal is not to gain conversational skills but to avoid overwhelming yourself and get a feel for what you’re actually getting into. All my recommended resources are free because I believe learning a language should be a basic right. I wouldn’t advise spending any money until you’re sure you’ll stick with it. Otherwise, it can turn into a toxic “but I paid for this, so I have to keep going” mindset that drains all the fun out of learning.

• Language Transfer – Highly recommended for Spanish, Arabic, Turkish, German, Greek, Italian, Swahili, and French.

• Textbooks – Simply search for [language] textbook PDF, or check LibGen and the Internet Archive. Don’t overthink which book to choose—it doesn’t matter much.

• Podcasts – Coffee Break is a solid choice for many languages.

• YouTube Channels – Join r/Learn[language] on Reddit and find recommendations.

—

Step 2 – The 20/80 Principle

The idea is that 20% of words make up 80% of everyday speech.

What you’re going to do:

Search “Most common words [language] PDF”.

This list is now your best friend

For flashcards, I highly recommend AnkiPro. It lets you import pre-made lists for Anki/Quizlet and has an archive where you’ll definitely find the most common words. But it lacks audio. The real Anki program has it, but only on PC (unless you’re willing to pay $30 for the mobile app). Use AnkiPro for now—we’ll come back to repeating phrases later. In the meantime, find a YouTube video with the most common words pronounced, or use Google Translate for audio.

(Knowt is a free alternative for Quizlet if you prefer that)

These lists will spare you from learning unnecessary vocabulary at this stage. Spaced repetition (which Anki uses) can take longer, but it’s worth it because you want these words to stick. Anki will only introduce a small number of new words per day. Once you start new words, write phrases using them. Doesn’t matter if they’re random just try to use them.

—

Step 3 – The First Breakup With the Language

This isn’t really a step, but I have to mention it. For me (and for other language learners I’ve talked to) this is where motivation crashes.

The dopamine rush is over. Your ego boost is gone. You’re stuck understanding just enough to notice how much you don’t understand, and topics are getting more complex. Everything feels overwhelming, and motivation drops.

This is normal. You have to push through it.

I’ll write a separate post on how I manage this phase, but for now:

• Take a step back and make sure you understand the basics.

• Find something that keeps you motivated.

• Consistency is key. Even if it’s just five minutes a day, do it. (Edit: You can search online for inspiration on scheduled plans. I found one that organizes language exercises into different categories based on how much time you have each day, which seems helpful. https://www.reddit.com/r/languagelearning/s/sSGUtORurM

Personally, I used AI to create a weekly plan kind of as a last resort before giving up on the language, but try looking for pre-made ones first.)

I personally enjoyed story learning during this phase. And don’t forget the frequency lists are still your best friend. For story learning check out Olly Richards books!

—

Step 4 – Immersion

Your brain needs active and passive immersion. The earlier steps were mostly active, and now you’ll start the fun part.

How to Immerse Yourself:

1. Join some kind of community.

• I enjoy Reddit/ r/lean[Language]. Do this in your target language, but also in the language you already speak. Post that you’re looking for a chat partner in your target language. The most people are nice, and the mean ones will just ghost you anyway.

2. Watch shows.

• Subtitles only in your target language or drop English subtitles ASAP.

3. Listen to podcasts.

4. Read

I personally dislike media made for kids (except on low-energy days). For real immersion, pick something for adults.

5. Translate, write, and speak.

Before this, you wrote simple sentences using vocabulary. Now, put them to work:

• Translate texts.

• Keep a diary.

• Write short stories.

• Complain about the language in the language.

It doesn’t matter, just use it.

—

Step 5 – Speaking

Start speaking earlier than you think you’re ready. Trust me. This is probably where most people disagree with me. I do think you should start by focusing on input, but the importance of output isn’t talked about enough.

Now, the real Anki (or any program with phrases + audio) comes into play. At lower levels, it doesn’t make sense to just start talking, since you wouldn’t even be able to recognize your mistakes. Here’s what you’ll do:

1. Repeat phrases out loud.

2. Record yourself speaking.

3. Compare your recording to the original audio and adjust your pronunciation.

If it’s a tonal language (or if you struggle with accents), start this even earlier.

Other Speaking Strategies:

• Shadowing – Repeat after native speakers.

• Reading aloud – Your own texts, books, anything.

• Talking to yourself.

• Talking to natives (if you’re brave).

I’m not here to fix social anxiety, but I am here to help with language learning, so just speak.

—

Final Thoughts

• These steps overlap, and that’s fine.

• This is supposed to be fun. Learning just because you’re “too deep in” or because of school won’t cut it.

• If you’re lost, take a step back.

• I’m not a professional. I just think a straight answer is way too hard to find.

—

If you have anything to add, feel free to share.

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strawberrynightmere · 15 days ago

Note

andrew graves x reader, who broke up with him during the time he was trapped in the apartment because of how he kept ditching her for ashley, so we got fed up and ended it. a little while later, he escaped and goes looking for us and finds us, breaking into our home only to find us having a make out session or like mid sex with some random guy and gets all angry and jealous, threatening to kill the guy if he doesn’t leave. and then it resorts to smut, and he ends up killing that random guy after he’s done with us 🙂‍↕️

Not Over Yet [Yandere Andrew Graves X Female Reader]

TW⚠️: yandere tendencies, canon divergence, breakup, stalking, murder, non-con, smut/nsfw/nsft/18+, reader is not taking place of anyone, female reader,my writingn, etc.

A/n: I'm taking a backseat on writing Julia!reader, though I have one more Julia!reader request to write.

"Again, seriously!?" You ask in disbelief as Andrew has canceled your plans again! And why would that be?

"Can't Ashley just drag Julia to this shit since they're dating!" Right, he was ditching you for whatever load of bull Ashley was pulling.

"They're not talking to each other right now." Gee, you wonder why.

"Ugh. Forget it!" That's the last thing you said before leaving.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"This isn't working out." You said with all the courage you could muster up.

"What isn't working?" You had a feeling he knew what you were going to say. You take a deep breath before answering, "This. Us. We're not working out."

There's silence on the other end of the phone. You bite your bottom lip, begging in your mind for him to understand. You know very well he won't.

"I know the quarantine has been a pain in the ass, but it's not a good reason to break up."

"It's not the quarantine! I had enough time to think, and I realized that I don't want to do this anymore." Again, silence on the other end. It's really unsettling.

"No."

"Andrew, I'm serious. I can't do it anymore." You didn't let him get one word in as you continued. "I can't be with someone who puts me in last place." There is no reply.

"This is for the best. Goodbye, Andrew." And you hung up. A moment passes while you stand still, eyes sting with tears that are threatening to pour out at any given moment. Sniffing could be heard as it came from you.

You collapse on your bed, and all the feelings you've bottled up just break out. You spent a part of the day crying.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"Go flirt with him!" A friend pressured you to talk to a random guy at the club.

It's been a month th since you broke up with Andrew, and now your friends finally got you to go clubbing with them, despite the fact you all had classes in the morning.

After some pushing, with a little help from alcohol, you were finally able to go up to the guy one friend pressured you to.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Hooking up was not something you initially planed, you wanted to at least get his number and talk, but this isn't half as bad.

Making out on your bed as you feel his hands going up your dress.

*Thunk!*

The guy collapsed on top of you, and I the moment of your confusion, you see someone standing above you holding a cleaver. Once you realized it was an angry Andrew that just broke into your apartment, you were going to scream, but he covered your mouth.

"Not a word." He threatened.

Andrew removes the unconscious guy from you and drags him out the door. You assume someone is outside your apartment, as Andrew says something before coming back in.

The whole time, you have been afraid to move.

"Care to explain what the fuck that was about?" Andrew asked as he pinned you down.

"Were you seriously going to cheat on me?" His grip on you tightened.

"Andrew, we broke -"

"Shut up!" He cut you off.

"We. Are. Not. Fucking. Over." As he said that, Andrew started biting and sucking on your neck and collarbone. He raised the hem of your dress and exposed your underwear.

You really shouldn't feel turned on by this.

Andrew stopped biting your neck once he took off your underwear. Holding your thighs apart, he starts to aggressively lick your clit. Every time you felt his wet muscle drag itself there, your mind goes a bit crazy.

You ended up squirting over his face.

"So quickly." He said. "You were as deprived as I was." That's unfortunately true. There was only so much that phone sex and your fingers could do.

Before you know it, Andrew had his pants down and was thrusting his dic into you like a wild animal.

And you were loving it.

Digging your nails on his back as you feel him hit that was gonna make you cum. And with the final hit, you came.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Waking up to a headache and aggressive doorbell ringing, you use your pillow to somehow get out of Andrew's hold and adjust your clothes.

You opened the front door and it was one of your friends who was ringing the doorbell.

"Sooo? How did it go?"

"Well, we were in the middle of it.... and then his girlfriend called." You lied.

"What an asshole." And she bought it.

"Anyway, I kicked him out, then drank a bit, and then passed out." You continued with your lies.

"You poor thing."

"I think I'm gonna skip my classes today." That is the only truth you said in this conversation.

"Honestly, I would too if my night turned out like that." You bid each other goodbye.

When you closed the door, Andrew was standing there.

"How did you sleep?" You asked. Andrew just grunted and hugged you.

A/n: And that's all folks!

#tcoaal x reader #andrew graves x reader #yandere andrew graves #x female reader #female reader

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claralance · 5 days ago

Text

Thinking about...

All the potential problems you might face dating Reo (i will definitely exploit this)

Warning: Wall of text. This is written poorly, probably repetitive, English is not my native language, not proofread. Just my headcanons and interpretation. Feel free to express your own opinions.

Sure he's smitten and he falls hard, will definitely spoils you and try to become the best boyfriend, also very loyal and a gentleman and all, but I think with his upbringing there are also certain red flags.

Solves problems with money: If you ever get upset or angry and he doesn't exactly know why/what to do, he'll resort to using money, buying you expensive gifts and shits bc that's the only way he knows (money makes people happy in his defense, his parents, for example). Plus, I think splurging money is kind of his comfort zone, like an easy escape for him bc he's dirty rich and his world revolves around materialism.

Involuntarily controlling: Not sure if I phrase this right but in Episode Nagi he admits to have a habit of using people. I think it's because he has a businessman-like mindset (due to his upbringing), he likes and is used to having things go his way, and honestly even if he dislikes his parents he definitely takes after them a lot (greedy and controlling) even though he doesn't want/like to. But all in all, I believe he'll try to keep the relationship under control (subconsciously) and will either spiral or throw a tantrum when things get out of hands.

Doesn't do well with changes: I'm sure this is similar to the previous point and you've probably seen int in the manga as well but he'll definitely get emotional and react strongly when his partner changes, maybe not really change but just do something that's out of his calculations and expectations. He gets emotionally attached and while he'll do anything for you he'll definitely start an argument when his emotions overwhelm his mind (again cue the Nagireo breakup and all of Reo's inner thoughts in epiNagi)

Intelligent but not that emotionally intelligent (not sure how to explain it but iykyk)

Will probably spiral and overthink after every argument: I think that Reo is rather well aware of his flaws, and he also has a standard for himself (probably projected by others), which will backfire when he's emotional. So, if things go wrong/out of his control -> his fault for not being enough. If he realizes that he acted like his father (or someone he hates), or if he said something really harsh, he'll probably shut down and wallow in self-deprecation.

Not the best at showing his problems or communicating: I think that similar to thinking that people only like his money, Reo also thinks that people only like him for the golden boy facade. It is implied that he accommodates people around him and rarely show his anger or boredom because it is what expected of him. Therefore, at the beginning of a relationship, he'll try to keep that facade up, avoiding addressing issues and just do his best to be whatever his partner might like to keep them around unless they show that they love him beyond all that.

In conclusion, I believe that Reo'd still be a great boyfriend (certified loverboy who'll do everything for people he cares about), but being in a relationship with him will have problems that might come off as overwhelming and slightly suffocating for some people, even if they're unintentional. That's also why I think he tend to falls for the wrong people and get hurt (my last post), not bc they're exactly "wrong", but relationships are complicated and I know some people run when they face emotional, attachment-related problems like these.

Long story short, I still love Reo and his character so much bc he's not just a perfect golden boy and I relate to him (or maybe I just like ppl with attachment problems). He just need lots of love and assurance. ♥︎

#mikage reo x reader #mikage reo #reo mikage #reo mikage x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk #blue lock reo #bllk reo #mikage reo x you #blue lock headcanons #blue lock fanfiction #i am probably high writing this #i love him either way

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buckyispunk · 2 years ago

Text

Aloha

Aloha part one ~ Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (no use of Y/N), read part two here!

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You arrive at a Hawaiian resort for your ex's wedding and a man named Bucky buys you a drink. You proceed to spend the next day with him, getting to know him and his friends.

A/N: New series! There will probably be five or so parts, with much more smut, angst, and fluff to come :) let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series!

Warnings: unwanted touching (not by Bucky), dom!bucky, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, spitting, choking, orgasm delay/denial, oral (f receiving), fingering, drinking, Bucky's got a filthy mouth

Word Count: 11k

Fucking Brock. You sit on the couch staring at the little cardstock rectangle in disbelief.

Join us in celebrating Brock and Marisssa’s special day! surrounded by hibiscus flowers and a tropical design. The flowery invitation theme makes sense when you read that the wedding is in Hawaii.

You hadn’t seen Brock in years. Three, to be exact. It had been in the soup aisle of the grocery store.

You had been reaching for a can of tomato paste to make spaghetti to eat alone in your little apartment. You looked a mess, having stopped at the store on your way home from a long day of work. You heard him call your name - his nonchalant, egotistical voice recognizable anywhere.

“Oh my god, how’ve you been? It’s been too long!” He had said, as if he had made any attempts to reach out to you - or had any desire to - since you had broken up.

“Oh,” you turned around to face him, “fine, you?”

“I’m doing great! Just here to buy some soup for my girlfriend, she’s been under the weather lately.”

Not even a minute into conversation and he’d mentiioned his new girlfriend. You had just broken up two months before. You tried your best to keep the look of shock and sadness from your face. How had he moved on so quick? Did your almost four year relationship meant so little to him?

You managed to give a small noncommittal smile and nod. He wasn’t paying enough attention to you to notice anyway, grabbing a couple of cans of chicken noodle soup and turning back the way he came.

“We should get together and catch up sometime!” he had shouted over his shoulder as he walked away.

That was the last time you had seen him. It wasn’t like the two of you were on bad terms or anything. The break up had been civil - civil as a breakup can be, anyway. You and Brock had begun dating in your freshman year of college. One day, in the middle of you and Brock’s senior year, he sat you down and said he needed to talk to you. He said that you were great and he’d always have a special place in his heart for you, but he just couldn’t picture himself with you for the rest of his life - so there’s no point in wasting anymore time, as he had put it. To be honest, you didn’t disagree.

You had been unhappy towards the end of the relationship. You could tell that Brock was distancing himself and the two of you got in little fights almost every day. You knew it wasn’t going to work out, but it had still left a huge hole in your heart. Brock was a big part of your life every day for four years, then all of a sudden he was just gone. A big piece of you was missing and you had to rebuild it yourself. Turns out Brock rebuilt that piece with another girl. If he ever had a piece that needed rebuilding in the first place, that is.

You really had wanted to stay friends with him after the breakup, or at least remain civil with him. He had never reached out after that day in the grocery store and you had no desire to reach out to him - you had healed yourself and decided you were better off without him.

You sit on the couch running your fingers over the rough material, rereading the words over and over again, trying to make sense of it all. You really don’t care that Brock is getting married, it’s not like you want him back or anything. But, at the same time, you weren’t necessarily chomping at the bit to go watch him and his fiancee celebrate their special day.

A vacation did sound nice, though. You’d always wanted to go to Hawaii. Plus, you figured some of you and Brock’s friends from college would be in attendance. The two of you had been in the same friend group when he asked you out. You lost touch with the friend group after the break up. You would see some of them in passing or in classes and share small talk, but you had stopped getting invitations to hang out with them. You weren’t one to hold a grudge, though, and it would be nice to see them again.

You mull it over for a little while before deciding that it would be a good move on your part to go, show Brock that you were still on good terms with him and that him getting married doesn’t bother you. You could take a break from work and get some much-needed sun and relaxation. You RSVP and check no, you will not be bringing a plus one.

The months leading up to the wedding follow the same, monotonous routine. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. Occasionally your coworkers would drag you out to the bar after work and you would go - desperate to feel some sort of belonging. Despite your efforts over the years, you had never gotten close with any of the girls at work. You got along with them okay, but you wouldn’t exactly call them your friends. Acquaintances was a more fitting term.

You do, however, have one best friend. The only issue is that she lives almost a thousand miles away. You had moved to New York for school and she had stayed back home in Illinois. You stay in contact with her and your family. Most days, talking to them makes you more homesick than anything else. You’d considered moving back more than once, but had ultimately decided against it each time - you’re scared to look like a failure. You don’t want to come running back home at the first signs of struggle. You want to prove to everyone back home that you can make it in the big city by yourself.

As the days go by, you find yourself looking forward to the special day. Not because of the wedding, but because you’re ready to escape the numb hell that your life has become. The wedding is on a Friday. You’re flying in on Monday and leaving Sunday morning. Six nights at the tropical resort Brock and Marissa have picked.

It’s the Sunday night before you leave. Your bags are packed and waiting by the door. Sleep comes easy, knowing that by this time tomorrow you’ll be drinking cocktailas at a pool-side bar, free from work stress and city traffic. Away from the city where you feel lonely among millions of people.

Usually when the ear-piercing, dread instilling sound of your alarm rings, you hit the snooze button and pull the covers tighter in attempt to hang on to your last moments of comfort and peace - or as close as you can get to that, these days. Today, however, is different. When you hear the all-too familiar noise coming from your phone, it leaves you with a feeling of excitement rather than depression.

You sit up, smile on your face, and get ready for the day. After showering and putting on your comfiest plane clothes, you grab your bags and head outside. You hail a taxi and can’t even bring yourself to be upset when he doesn’t offer to help you with your luggage. You smile the whole way to the airport.

I repeat, flight DL4567 is delayed by two hours. Boarding will begin at 12:10.

The universe has found a way to put you in a bad mood again. You’re certain whatever higher power there is had sent this sudden thunderstorm just for you. You look at your phone to check the time - 9:45. You had been sitting here for an hour already. The hard chair is starting to get uncomfortable, so you decide to get your second cup of coffee for the morning. You stand and grab your luggage, making your way to the end of the Starbucks line. You order your go-to drink and some breakfast.

Once you get your coffee and food you find a little table to sit at and pull out your book. You find yourself enthralled in your book and the time flies. A voice over the loudspeaker breaks you out of your trance.

Flight DL4567 now boarding.

You snap your book shut and clean up your table. You grab your bags and head back to your gate. After waiting in line for a little while, you finally take your seat on the plane. You put in your earbuds and watch the grey clouds outside - thankful you got a window seat. By the time the plane starts moving, you’re smiling again and counting down the time until your arrival.

You spend the first five hours of your flight reading and watching TV - you’re pleasantly surprised to see that they have your favorite show. Sometime after they serve lunch, you fall asleep. When you wake up, there’s only two hours left until arrival.

You watch the fluffy clouds outside your window and find that time passes quickly when you think about all the things you want to do in Hawaii. You also find that the time passes impossibly slow when you let your mind drift to New York and all your responsibilities. How is it that you haven’t even landed in Hawaii yet and you’re already dreading returning back home?

You see the beaches and the luscious green that fill the ground beneath you. You take in all the sights as best you can as you get closer and closer to the ground, preparing for landing. Your ears hurt slightly from the pressure change, but you’ve got other things on your mind.

After waiting some more to get your luggage, you finally manage to get on a shuttle and you’re on your way to the resort. You watch the mountains in the distance and the palm trees on the drive. You’re listening to your playlist through your earbuds and this is the happiest you’ve felt in a while. You could get used to this, you think.

Your jaw drops when you pull up to the hotel. The huge building is right on the beach. Sure, that’s what it had said online, but the real thing it’s even more staggering in person than it had been in the pictures. The sun beats down on you as soon as you step out of the shuttle, but there’s a nice breeze that makes it enjoyable. A worker hands you your bags from the back of the bus and you thank him. You roll them inside the resort, eyes widening even more when you see the inside of the place. You can’t wait to get your bags in your room and explore.

The receptionist is nice as can be and tells you to enjoy your stay as she hands you your key cards - like you’ll be needing more than one. You wheel your luggage into the elevator and press the number five. You’re astonished by the view when you step into your room. Your balcony faces the beach and you can see mountains in the distance. The evening sun is still shining bright and there’s not a cloud in the sky.

It’s just after seven o’clock by the time you’re done changing. You head down to the main floor and set off to explore. There’s a spa, an indoor and outdoor bar, a pool, a hot tub, a gym, and a restaurant. You decide to hit the outdoor bar and enjoy the last of the daylight.

You slide into a barstool. The warmth of the sun and the refreshing sea-side breeze, along with a couple cocktails, quickly put you into a relaxed headspace. You’d been looking forward to this for so long and it’s definitely all you’d imagined it would be.

The resort is pretty full, but not to the point where it gets on your nerves. The bar is occupied by a group of girls who look a little younger than you and some married couples.

You’re just finishing your second drink when something catches your attention - a loud, boisterous laugh coming from the other end of the bar. You lean forward to see a group of guys you hadn’t noticed before. The laugh comes from a man with chocolatey, smooth skin. He’s sitting with a gigantic blond man who is currently looking down at the bartop and shaking his head, a half smile on his face. The last man, though, is what makes you do a double take.

He’s got dark, fluffy hair. Though his stubble tries to hide it, you notice his sharp jawline. His shoulders are broad and his biceps stretch the sleeve of his t-shirt. He’s smiling, pearly white teeth on display. You find that you’re still watching him as he brings a bottle of beer to his lips and takes a swig.

You’re only snapped out of your trance when he looks in your direction. You quickly divert your eyes, but you aren’t quick enough. He catches your gaze for the briefest of seconds. You might be imagining things, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth curl up into a smile before he looks back to his friends - still laughing and yelling about something.

The sun has finally set and you decide on having one more of the fun, tropical drinks before heading up to your room.

You prepare to flag down the bartender, surprised when you find him already stopping in front of you, one of the cocktails you’d been drinking in hand.

“Courtesy of the gentleman at the other end of the bar.”

You quickly thank the bartender and look back to the other end of the bar where the group of guys had been sitting. They’re the only men sitting at that end of the bar.

The brunette is already looking at you. He gives you a million dollar smile and shoots you a wink before he turns, following his friends back into the hotel.

You sit in shock for a solid minute, replaying the wink over and over in your mind. Sure you’ve got a solid buzz and you haven’t been laid in a long time, but even if that wasn’t the case, you’re sure it would’ve been just as sexy. You’re only slightly ashamed of the small amount of wetness you feel in your panties.

You down the free drink and head back into the hotel. On your way to the elevator, you notice the man that’s been occupying your thoughts for the last 30 or so minutes standing at the reception desk. His hair is wet and his clothes are soaking through.

You quickly make your way to the elevator and repeatedly press the up arrow. You’re not sure where the sudden embarrassment is coming from, but your cheeks are red and you don’t want him to see you right now.

Unfortunately for you, you hear footsteps behind you and turn to find the same piercing blue eyes you had met across the bar staring back at you.

“Friends stole all the towels out of my room,” he tells you, holding up a stack of fresh ones.

Well that explains why he was at the reception desk, also why he’s soaking wet.

“Oh,” you manage a small chuckle as you look down at your feet.

You can’t help but feel embarrassed when he’s looking at you so intently, like you’re the only thing on his mind right now. It doesn’t help that he’s one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen and he’s talking to you of all people.

You force yourself to meet his eyes again, “Thank you, um, for the drink earlier,” you manage in a somewhat steady voice.

“Course, doll,” another smile.

The elevator doors finally open and he extends his arm, “After you.”

He follows you into the elevator and presses the number five.

“What floor are you on?” he turns, waiting for your response.

“Same as you, apparently,” you smile up at him.

You weren’t close enough to tell before, but he’s tall. At least six feet.

“I’m Bucky, by the way. Sorry ‘bout leaving before I could introduce myself earlier, but my friends were being a pain in the ass - pardon my language.”

You tell him your own name and he holds out his hand. You put your hand in his and expect him to shake it, but what he does next surprises you.

He gently raises your hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he rolls your name off his tongue, still holding your hand.

You try your best not to make it obvious that you’re swooning over this man. Heat returns to your core at the feeling of his rough hand engulfing yours.

The elevator bell dings, letting you know you’ve reached your floor. Bucky carefully drops your hand as the doors open. The two of you step out of the elevator and he stops.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“I hope so,” your buzz encourages you.

You smile at each other and when he turns to head to his room, you do the same.

“Goodnight, doll,” he shouts over his shoulder before disappearing into his room.

You can’t keep the smile off of your face the rest of the night. You’re in fucking Hawaii. A man straight out of your fantasies had bought you a drink, and he plans on seeing you around. You know it’s too soon to be thinking this, but maybe you’ll find a more unconventional way to relieve stress this week.

After you wake up and get dressed for the day, you head down to get breakfast from the buffet. You load your plate and find a table. You’re in the middle of chewing a bite of waffle when you see Brock. Him and a woman, you assume it’s Marissa, are grabbing plates and getting into the breakfast line.

Brock doesn’t notice you until after him and the woman have gotten their own food. You watch him as he scans the room for a table, his eyes eventually landing on you.

He calls out your name and leans down to tell the woman something.

“So glad you’re here! Are these seats taken?” he asks, not waiting for a response as he sits down, leaving the woman to follow.

“Go ahead,” you say. You’re somewhat glad to have some company, even if it’s a little awkward.

“This is my fiancée, Marissa.”

“So nice to meet you,” she offers her hand and you shake it.

Breakfast is filled with awkward conversation. You and Brock catch up a little bit, telling each other what you’re up to these days. After a few minutes, Brock pulls out his phone and doesn’t put it away for the rest of the meal. You talk to Marissa about the wedding planning and do your best to seem interested as she talks about flower arrangements for ten minutes.

Eventually, conversation lulls and you take the opportunity to get up.

“So nice catching up with you, Brock. And nice to meet you Marissa!” you say, heading to your room.

You decide on heading to the pool today and change into your bikini. It’s a black set that shows off your body without being too skimpy. You throw some clothes over it and grab your book before stepping out of your room.

Before you reach the elevator, you hear your name being called. You turn and see Bucky standing by his door.

“Where are you headed to?”

“I’m gonna go lay by the pool for a bit, wanna join me?” you answer, not sure where your courage is coming from.

Bucky grins as he responds, “Nothing else I’d rather do.”

You feel your face heat up.

“Lemme put some trunks on and I’ll meet you down there?”

“Sounds great, Bucky,” you nod at him before slipping into the elevator.

Once at the pool, you grab two towels. By some miracle, you manage to find two empty lounge chairs together. You set your things down and lay the towels over the chairs. You strip out of your clothes, leaving you clad in only the bikini, and apply sunscreen before laying down. You put your earbuds in and close your eyes and bask in the sun.

Maybe it's the sunshine, maybe it’s the fresh ocean air, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but you’re feeling the happiest you’ve been in a long time. You notice that instead of your usual RBF, you've been smiling almost constantly since your arrival.

When you open your eyes, you see Bucky standing a few feet away from you, steel blue eyes raking up and down your body.

“Oh, Bucky,” you pause your music, blush returning to your cheeks, “how long have you been standing there?”

“Shit,” he says your name, realizing he’d been caught staring, “I swear I just got here like ten seconds ago. I’m so sorry. Feel free to revoke my invitation because I was being a creep,” he grimaces, expecting you to be mad at him.

The way he looked at you was different than the way most men would look at you in a bikini, though. It wasn’t gross or pervy. It looked like he was genuinely just appreciating your body, rather than plotting how to get you into his bed. And he didn't make any disgusting comments or cat call you like other guys have in the past. Besides, you'd be lying if you said you didn’t get a boost of confidence from the way he looked at you.

“Hmm,” you put your finger on your chin, pretending to mull it over, “I’ll let you sit down, but only if you buy me another drink first.”

That familiar grin spreads across his face again.

“You got yourself a deal. You want another one of those gross cocktails you were drinking last night?”

“Um, excuse you, Mr. I’m too manly to drink cocktails, but I’ll have you know those were delicious.”

He chuckles and promises to be back shortly before walking toward the bar.

You play your music and wait for him to return. After a couple minutes, he returns holding a colorful, fruit filled cocktail and a beer bottle.

Bucky takes his seat next to you, beer bottle in hand. He lets out a sigh of relief as he lays back in his chair.

“So, not to be rude, but is Bucky your real name?”

“My full name is James Buchanan Barnes, if you must know. All my friends and family call me Bucky.”

You nod and take a sip of your drink.

“Man, it’s hot,” Bucky takes a drink from his bottle before setting it down and reaching down to grab the bottom of his shirt. You find it’s your turn to stare as he pulls it over his head, exposing tan skin and rippling muscle. Bucky gives you a cocky smirk when he notices you staring with your drink frozen midair, on its way to your mouth.

You quickly avert your eyes and feel the familiar dusting of pink return to your cheeks.

“Like what you see, doll?”

You simply shake your head at his teasing and smile, flustered as can be.

“So what do you do for work, Bucky?”

“Well I was in the army until a couple years ago. Now I’m a mechanic, I got my own shop with my buddies.”

You make a mental note to thank the army for mandating PT as you watch a drop of sweat roll down Bucky’s washboard abs.

“Is that who you’re here with?”

“Yeah. Me and Steve have known each other since we were little, actually. We met Sam when we joined up and after we all got out we opened up shop together,” a reminiscent smile plays upon his lips. “Those two knuckleheads are basically family. We decided to take a trip to celebrate the shop’s one year anniversary.”

“Speaking of family, do you have any?”

“My, uh,” his brows furrow, “my dad died when I was little, but I have a mom and a sister who’s a little younger than me. About your age, probably.”

His expression returns to normal in a split second, “Enough about me. Do you have family?”

“Yeah, but I moved away for college and never went back home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Ohio. I live in New York now.”

Bucky seems almost excited at this bit of information.

“Is that so?” he raises an eyebrow. “I live in Brooklyn.”

“Me too,” you share a smile.

Needing a break from the sweltering sun, you stand and grab your drink.

“I'm getting in the pool, care to join?”

Bucky wordlessly stands and follows you to the pool, smiling. You walk down the steps, drink in hand. Bucky, however, stops at the edge of the pool and watches you.

“You coming in or what?”

“In a minute, doll.”

Surprisingly, the pool isn’t that crowded. It’s huge, so the people that are in the pool are able to spread out and stay out of each other’s way.

It’s only once you’re standing in the pool, water up to your bikini top, that Bucky decides to enter.

Via cannonball.

You register what he’s about to do as he jumps in the air and wraps his hands around his knees and you yell at him, Barnes don’t you dare! but it’s too late. Next thing you know, you’re drenched. Your hair and face are soaked and there’s pool water in your drink.

Bucky emerges from under the water, smirk dancing across his lips. His expression falters for a second when he notices your angry expression, but you can’t keep the smile from your face when he shakes his hair out like a wet dog.

“You ruined my drink.”

“I’ll buy you another,” he says, taking the drink out of your hands and setting it on the edge of the pool.

He walks closer and closer to you until you’re just inches apart. He tentatively moves his hands under the water until they’re resting on your bare hips. His grip is soft, barely there. He’s giving you a chance to reject his touch, but all you do is gently move into his hands.

His grip becomes more firm and his eyes light up with a glint of mischief. Before you know what hit you, you’re being lifted out of the water, Bucky’s muscles flexing as he raises you up. Before you have a chance to stop him - as if you’d stand any chance against his nearly super human physique - he launches you back into the water.

When you emerge from the water, you see Bucky nearly doubled over laughing at the angry expression on your face. You really do try your best to be mad at him, but his shimmering smile and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes makes it hard.

“What. The. Hell,” you make your way back to him and move to smack his chest. Bucky has quick reflexes, though, and you find that your hand is trapped between one of his own and his muscular pec.

“That was revenge for the way you’ve been staring at me all morning when I’m unable to do anything about it.”

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his flirty words in an effort to keep up your mad facade.

“What if I drowned Bucky?” you deadpan.

“Wouldn’t let that happen,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Well, you’re still a jerk.”

“A jerk who’s talking to the prettiest girl in this resort,” he counters with a shit-eating grin.

Bucky drops his hand and, instead of moving yours away, you wrap both your arms around the back of his neck.

“Not for much longer if you pull another stunt like that, Barnes.”

“Sorry, doll,” the amused grin he’s still sporting makes you doubt his apology.

His hands return to your hips and he pulls you closer. He’s a fair bit taller than you and you have to tilt your head up to look at him. The sun is reflected in his ocean blue eyes and water drips down his face, getting caught in the scruff spanning his jaw.

Bucky leans down and lifts one of his hands to gently grab your chin between two long fingers. He softly directs you toward his own face. You can’t stop your eyes from flicking down to his pink, pillowy lips. You close the rest of the distance on your own.

Bucky is quick to kiss you back after your lips meet his. He caresses your lips with his own and he moves his hand to the back of your neck, pressing you against him harder. He swipes his tongue across your lips and you part them for him. You let out a small moan into his mouth and he gently takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

He pulls away, letting your lip free. You feel a throb in between your legs when he gives your neck a quick squeeze before letting his hand fall back to his own person.

“Fuck, doll. Don’t make me throw you into the water again.” He waits until he thinks you’re not looking before reaching down to adjust his swim trunks.

“You started it,” you reply as you make your way to the steps and climb out of the pool. “I need another drink,” you make sure to sway your hips as you walk back toward the bar, not needing to look back to know he’s watching.

You lean against the bar and are waiting to be helped when you suddenly feel a hand on your hip. You turn around and expect to see Bucky, only to be met with the sight of a man you’ve never seen before.

“Can I help you?” you remove the man’s hand from you.

“Nice bikini, baby. Lemme buy you a drink,” the slur in his words and his unsteady stance letting you know that he’s certainly not sober.

“No, thanks,” you turn back to the bar, making it clear you’re not interested.

The man either doesn’t get the hint or decides to keep trying anyway, because you feel both his hands land on your hips this time. He steps closer to you, his chest pressed up against your back.

Just as you’re preparing to throw an elbow into the man’s ribs, you feel his hands being ripped off of you. You turn around to see the man falling to the ground, Bucky standing over him.

“Get up,” Bucky demands, looking down.

The man, surprisingly, manages to get back on his feet and gives Bucky a death glare. Before he has a chance to give Bucky a piece of his mind, as you’re sure he was about to, Bucky grabs him by the collar of his shirt and leans into the man’s ear. He says something too quiet for you to hear and emphasizes it by using his grip on the man’s shirt to shake him. A few people around you are starting to stare.

The man’s face goes slack and he nods in response to whatever Bucky had said. Bucky shoves the man away and he nearly falls to the ground again. Bucky stares him down as he turns and walks away. Once he’s sure the man isn’t coming back, he returns his attention to you. Thankfully, everyone’s attention seems to be back to whatever they were doing before the commotion.

“You okay, doll? I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky,” you give him a half smile to let him know you’re okay, just sick of men thinking they have a right to touch you. “I’m okay.”

“You still want another drink? Told you I’d buy it,” he goes to flag down the bartender.

You gently rest your hand on his bicep and he looks at you “Thank you, Buck,” you hope your genuine expression conveys that you’re not just thanking him for the drink.

He gives you a curt nod, “Don’t mention it. Just trying to be a gentleman.”

A few minutes later, armed with another round of drinks, you and Bucky are making your way back to the lounge chairs.

“So where are your friends today?” you inquire.

“Finally got those punks outta my hair for a little while. They went to hike up some mountain. Or maybe it was a volcano, I really don’t know.”

“You didn’t want to go with them?”

“I-uh,” he rubs a hand across the back of his neck, “let’s just say heights aren’t really my thing,” an adorable redness spreads across his face.

You nod, deciding to spare him any further embarrassment from teasing. The two of you sit down on the sides of your chairs, facing each other.

“So why are you here?”

You figured the question would arise eventually, but you had been dreading telling him the reason. It just sounds embarrassing to admit that you’re attending your ex’s wedding.

“I’m actually here for a wedding.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s getting married? Not you, I hope,” Bucky chuckles at his own joke but stops when you don’t so much as crack a smile. His face drops and he stares at you for a second before you notice his expression.

“No. God- no. I’m not engaged, Bucky. Very much single. It’s my ex’s wedding.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “Oh, wow,” you can tell he’s unsure how to respond.

“I’ve hardly talked to him since the breakup a few years ago. We’re on good terms, though. Actually ate breakfast with him and his fiancee this morning.”

“Well that’s good, I guess. That you’re on good terms, I mean. Why did you choose to come? Sorry if I’m being nosy, you dont have to answer.” “No, it’s fine. It’s a little weird, I get it. For the most part, it was a good excuse to take a vacation and hopefully see some old friends. It’s not like I still have feelings for Brock or anything, so I really couldn’t care less that he’s getting married. His fiancee seems nice enough. And things went okay this morning, so I’m hopeful that things won’t be too awkward at the wedding. Plus there’ll be an open bar at the reception,” you crack a smile.

Bucky listens and nods along. “Well I hope everything goes okay. I’m certainly not complaining that you’re here,” he gives you a soft smile.

Sunbathing next to Bucky and sharing laughter-filled conversation leaves you with such a serene feeling that you physically feel lighter and your mind feels clearer. You decide in that moment that this vacation was definitely worth it, you can feel your mental health improving by the hour.

At one point, you doze off and are woken to Bucky’s hand gently shaking your shoulder. You open your eyes and see him leaning over you, radiant smile on his face.

“Probably shouldn’t stay out here too long or you’ll burn to a crisp.”

You sit up and nod, “Good point.”

You and Bucky get dressed and gather your things before depositing your towels in the proper bin and heading inside the hotel. Once you and Bucky reach your floor, you stand and shuffle your feet, unsure of what to do next. Bucky sets a hand on your arm and you look up at him.

“My friends and I are going out to dinner tonight and, I’m sorry if this seems weird, but would you want to come with us? You don’t have to say yes, just thought I’d throw it out there,” he has a nervous look on his face and he chews on his lip while he waits for an answer.

You couldn’t be more thrilled at the fact that he still wants to spend more time with you, even though you’d been together a large chunk of the day already. You want to say yes, both because you have no other plans and because you’d love to spend more time with the man in front of you, but you don’t want to seem overly eager.

“Yeah, I’d like that. Only if you’re sure your friends won’t mind, that is.”

Bucky looks almost relieved and gives you a boyish grin. “Nah, Steve and Sam will be fine. I’m sure you guys will get along great.”

“Okay, Buck, looking forward to it.”

“Can’t wait, doll. I’ll meet you here at seven.”

Bucky seems to hesitate for a moment, but then leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips, which you happily return. He pulls back and heads off to his room.

“See you tonight, sweetheart.”

You decide you have a bit of time before you need to start getting ready for dinner, so you grab your book and sit out on the balcony. You find that you have a hard time focusing on the words in front of you, though. The ocean waves and palm trees blowing in the breeze paired with the distant sounds of laughter and music coming from below makes for a pleasant distraction. Before you know it, it’s 6:45 and you scramble to get back inside and start getting dressed.

It isn’t until you’re searching through your clothes that you realize you don’t know where you’re going for dinner or how to dress. You only packed three dresses, a sundress, the dress you’re wearing to the wedding, and the one you decide on for tonight.

The black dress comes down to your knees with a slit up the thigh. It’s tight and shows off your curves. The back is open, with straps crossing in the center of your shoulder blades. The cut in the front is low enough that it shows off your cleavage while maintaining a classy enough appearance.

You decide to dress it up with heels - also black. They’re only a couple inches tall, so you can still walk in them somewhat comfortably. You’re thankful that you packed a decent selection of jewelry and throw on some silver earrings and a necklace.

You take a quick look at yourself in the mirror and can’t help but smile - damn you look good. You grab your clutch and open your door. You nearly walk into Bucky as you step into the hallway.

Bucky is wearing tight grey dress pants with a snug-fitting short sleeve black button up. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving you a peek of the toned chest hiding beneath. He’s paired the outfit with a black belt and matching shoes. He speaks before you have a chance to compliment him.

“Doll,” he looks you up and down, eyes wide, “wow. You look gorgeous.”

You feel yourself flush as you thank him.

“You look really good too, Buck. Where’s Steve and Sam?”

“I told them to wait downstairs for us. Wanted to prepare you for them. They can be a bit,” he pauses, searching for the right word, “much, sometimes. I told them to be on their best behavior tonight. They just have a way of embarrassing people, Sam especially. I’m sure they’ll be teasing me nonstop, so just ignore anything they say.”

You chuckle lightly, “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

You and Bucky step into the elevator and take turns sneaking glaces at each other. Just before you reach the ground floor, Bucky leans over you, effectively trapping you between him and the elevator wall. Even in your heels, he has to lean down to be eye level with you. “I mean it, doll, you look stunning,” his eyes search yours, “Can I kiss you?”

You respond by closing the distance between the two of you. He reaches up and places a hand on the back of your head, holding you to him. The feel of his soft lips on yours makes you forget where you are. All too soon, the elevator door is opening and before you and Bucky have a chance to break away from each other, you hear a whistle.

“Damn, Barnes! Moving quick!”

Bucky quickly steps away from you but stays in front of you, shielding you while you take a second to collect yourself.

“Shut it, Sam,” Bucky says sternly. You don’t miss the red that creeps up the back of his neck. Nor do you miss how his tight pants do wonders for his ass.

After a second you step out from behind Bucky and extend a hand to the man, deciding to play it off.

“So you must be Sam,” you introduce yourself as he shakes your hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve responds when you shake his hand.

Steve and Sam lead the way out of the resort and you trail behind with Bucky.

“We heard about this place some locals recommended that’s supposed to be really good. We’re gonna take a taxi there. That okay with you?”

“Sounds great,” you smile up at him.

The four of you wait in front of the resort for the taxi.

“So,” Steve says your name, “you really spent all day with Bucky and he hasn’t made a fool of himself yet?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I never said that. He’s lucky I’m even here right not after he threw me into the pool earlier. Although he did almost get into a fist fight defending me, so I guess it cancels out.”

Sam gives Bucky a grin, “Attaboy.”

“When me and Buck were younger, I used to get myself into all kinds of trouble and Bucky would have to end up kicking some dude’s ass for me almost daily,” Steve reminisces.

Bucky huffs and nods his head, “Punk dragged me into all kinds of trouble. Believe it or not, he wasn’t always this big. Needed to help him out or he woulda ended up bleeding out in an alley somewhere in Brooklyn.”

Steve’s cheeks heat up, but you have trouble picturing the man in front of you as anything other than he is now - huge and intimidating.

After a couple minutes of getting to know Steve and Sam a little bit, the taxi arrives. It’s a five seater car, Steve sits in the front with the driver and you, Bucky, and Sam climb into the back. Bucky sits in between you and Sam. The car is plenty roomy enough, but Bucky makes sure to sit close enough that his thigh is pressed up against yours. The drive is short and Steve pays the driver when you arrive. Everyone gets out of the car. Bucky offers you his elbow and you link your arm in his. He leads the four of you into the building.

“Hi, we have a reservation for Barnes.”

The hostess leads you out back to the outdoor seating and your jaw drops. The palm tree surrounded patio is right on the beach and you have a perfect view of the sun setting on the water. Fairy lights and tiki torches give the place a soft glow. A live band plays soft Hawaiian music on a stage.

Once you reach your table, the hostess sets down menus and silverware, before heading back inside. Bucky unlinks his arm from yours and he pulls out a chair for you. Before you sit, you turn to him.

“Bucky, this place is beautiful.”

“Glad you like it, darling.”

You sit and Bucky takes the seat next to you. By the time you snap out of your awestruck trance, Sam and Steve are both holding menus and arguing about something. You go to pick up a menu and notice Bucky’s eyes trained on you. He gives you a smile before looking down at his own menu.

The waitress comes to take drink orders and the three men all order whiskey. You decide to get something other than a fruity cocktail.

“I’ll have the same,” you say when the server looks to you.

You notice the way all three of their eyebrows jump at your choice. The waitress leaves and Bucky gently sets a hand just above your knee. He turns to look at you, as if asking for permission and you give him a reassuring smile. Conversation flows and when the waitress returns with the drinks, Sam and Steve immediately take a sip of theirs. Bucky’s eyes fall on you as you raise the glass to your lips. You keep eye contact with him as you take a drink, holding a straight face. You see of flash of something dark flash in his eyes and he moves his hand higher up your thigh and gives it a firm squeeze.

You continue to read the menu and decide on seafood - you have to, you’re in Hawaii - and so does everyone else at the table. It is the restaurant’s specialty, after all. By the time the waitress comes to take your order, the four of you are all getting along great.

“So you guys all work on cars, huh?”

“And bikes,” Sam nods at you.

“Do you guys all have motorcycles?” you glance around the table.

“Yeah, we do,” Bucky confirms.

You can easily picture him leather-clad, thick thighs straddling a Harley and his hand resting on the throttle. The thought makes you clench your thighs together and, based on the way Bucky’s thumb begins to rub circles into your thigh and he smirks at you, you assume he notices.

“So what do you have planned for the rest of the week?” Steve questions you, oblivious to Bucky’s hand on you underneath the table.

“Well I’m going snorkeling tomorrow. I also want to hit the beach, maybe take a surf lesson. Horseback riding and hiking sounds fun too, though. What all have you guys done?”

“Well,” Sam starts, “we just got in yesterday, so we haven’t really done much yet.”

“Oh, so you guys got here the same day I did, then. When are you guys leaving?”

“Saturday, how about you?” Bucky answers you.

“Sunday morning.”

“I’m sure you’ll be sick of Bucky by then,” Sam chortles.

Thinking about spending the rest of the week with Bucky puts a smile on your face and you hope he wants to spend more time with you, too. Eventually, the food comes and you all dig in. It’s so delicious that you’re not even mad about how expensive it was. Bucky lets out a groan of delight as he takes his first bite.

“This is so good, doll. You want to try?”

You nod and he raises his fork to your lips. He feeds you a bite of his food and you agree, it is delicious. You pull your attention away from Bucky just in time to see Sam whispering something into Steve’s ear, to which Steve chortles and nods.

“What are you guys talking about?” Bucky returns his attention to his friends.

“Nothing, man,” Steve dismisses him.

Bucky shoots them a warning look but drops it.

The rest of the meal is filled with stories from their time in the army and Steve informs you that Bucky was a sergeant. You’re thankful that they don’t pressure you with too many questions about your boring life back in the city. The conversation flows easy and after a couple more rounds of drinks, the four of you are laughing so hard that you’re drawing attention from other tables. When everyone finishes eating, you excuse yourself to the bathroom and find your waitress. You give her your credit card, insisting that she charges the bill to your card.

You’d been having a great time with Bucky and his friends so far and you wanted to thank them for inviting you to have dinner with them. They had been so welcoming to you and have made your trip less lonely, even if only for one night. You return to the table.

When the waitress comes back to your table, she returns your credit card to you and the three men share a confused look.

Bucky cocks his head at you, “Did you pay for yourself already, doll? I was going to.”

“She actually covered the whole table,” the server informs them before leaving.

“Wait, what? You paid for us all?” Steve asks in disbelief.

Sam looks to you, waiting for an answer. Bucky just looks at you, brows furrowed.

“Yeah. I just wanted to thank you guys for being so inviting. I enjoyed hanging out with you all tonight,” you look down at the table, feeling almost as if you’d done something wrong.

Sam says your name, “That was really unnecessary, but thank you. We enjoyed your company. We get sick of each other, it was nice to have you join us. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Steve concurs, “I’m glad you could come. You really didn’t have to do that, but thank you, sincerely.”

“It’s not a big deal, guys. It was no problem.”

You turn to look at Bucky. He’s still in the same position - eyes trained on you and brows furrowed. You worry you’ve done something wrong and gently reach between the two of you and take his hand in yours. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and finally speaks.

“Thank you,” you can tell there’s more he wants to say, though. Your group stands and heads to the front to wait for another taxi. After you step out the front doors, Bucky softly grabs your arm, holding you back. Steve and Sam continue walking.

“Thank you for paying, I really appreciate the gesture. But I invited you tonight because I enjoy spending time with you and I wanted you to meet my friends. You shouldn’t have had to pay for your own dinner tonight, let alone everyone else’s. I do appreciate it, though, and I know Steve and Sam did too,” he gives you a sincere look and you sheepishly look down at the ground. He lifts his hand to cup your face and tilts it up to him, forcing you to make eye contact. “But all that being said, don’t you dare try and pull that again,” he says in a more authoritative tone.

You feel a wetness forming in your panties at the soft yet demanding tone he uses. You’re too shocked at the sudden dominance that you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod up at him.

“Good girl,” he praises in a low voice.

“You guys coming or what?” you hear Sam’s voice call.

You hadn’t even realized that taxi had arrived. Bucky leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before leading you to the car with a hand on the small of your back. Bucky sits inbetween you and Sam again and rests a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to slipping underneath the hem of your dress that had ridden halfway up your thighs. All you can focus on the whole car ride back to the resort is the feel of Bucky’s calloused hands on your leg and the pulsing at the apex of your thighs.

After what feels like hours, the cars pulls to a stop in front of the resort and you step out of car, followed by Bucky, who places his hand back on you immediately after he gets out. Steve and Sam make conversation, Bucky occasionally making a noncommittal grunt in response. After the elevator brings all of you to the fifth floor, Steve and Sam say goodnight and thank you again for dinner. You don’t miss the way Bucky’s hand tightens around your hip when they mention you paying for dinner. You say goodnight to them and they look at Bucky, probably expecting him to say goodnight and follow them back to their rooms.

You’re not quite sure what you expect Bucky to do, but all you know is that the tension is thicker than Bucky’s biceps that are currently straining against his shirt sleeves.

“I’ll catch up with you guys in a little bit,” he tells his friends without taking his eyes off you.

“Okayyy,” Steve drags out the word as him and Sam turn and walk away, muttering and laughing to themselves.

Once you and Bucky are alone in the hall, he gently backs you up against the wall. He leaves one hand on your hips and tangles the other in your hair. He pulls you into a kiss that you fervently reciprocate. You’re sure that your panties are soaked at this point. You clench your thighs together, desperate for some friction. Bucky spreads your legs with his knee and slots his thigh against your center, forcing your dress to rise up. You moan into his mouth at the relief and buck your hips into him, your drenched underwear are dragging across his pants and you’re sure they’ll leave a dark spot from your arousal.

Bucky pulls away from the kiss, but pushes his thigh harder against you. He leans down to whisper in your ear. “Dirty fuckin’ girl,” his voice is filled with lust, “Rutting up against my thigh in the middle of the hallway, skirt up so anyone can see how soaked your panties are for me.”

You whimper into Bucky’s ear. It turns you on to hear such filthy things coming from his usually polite mouth.

“Please, Bucky,” you beg, desparate for release.

“Please what, babydoll? Tell me what you need,” he demands.

He presses his bulge into your stomach and you can’t string together a sentence.

“I know, honey. You just wanna come, huh?” he looks down at you with a pitying expression and you nod your head so hard you get dizzy, too fuzzy-headed to care how desperate you look. He chuckles at you, “Say it. Tell me you need me to take care of you.”

“Please, Bucky! Make me come, take care of me. Just do something, please!” you sound absolutely wrecked and the groan Bucky lets out while he rocks his hips into you lets you know he gets off on it.

“Fuck. Unlock your door, princess,” he tells you, pulling away and waiting by your door.

You’re surprised at how quickly you manage to dig you key card out of your purse and open the door in your aroused state. As soon as the door is open, Bucky grabs you and spins you around to face him.

“Jump,” he orders.

You drop throw your purse onto the table and wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck before jumping. He catches you by the backs of your thighs and effortlessly carries you to the bed, peppering kisses along your face and neck the whole way.

He throws you onto the bed and pulls off your shoes, placing a kiss to each of your shins. He then flips you onto your stomach and unties your dress. The way he manhandles you so easily sends a fresh gush of arousal to your core. He helps you shimmy out of your dress as he kicks off his shoes. You’re left in only your panties and he takes in the sight of your practically naked body and groans. He uses one hand to undo his belt and uses the other to reach down and palm your breast.

“Goddamn, babydoll. No bra?”

You don’t have the mental capacity to explain that you wouldn’t have been able to wear one with the open back dress, settling instead for reaching up and pulling him down by his collar until he’s straddling your hips. He leans back and unbuttons his shirt, exposing his broad chest and defined abs one button at a time, throwing it to the floor when he’s done. He has a dark trail of hair leading down into his dress pants where you can see the large outline of his hardened cock. He leans down atop of you, veiny forearms resting on either side of your head.

He snakes a hand down between the two of you and dips his fingers in the waistband. “Can I take these off, babydoll?”

You nod and reach to his neck, trying to pull him down for a kiss. Much to your dismay, he doesn’t budge.

“Need words, honey.”

“Yes Bucky, please.”

“Good girl,” he rewards you by leaning down and pressing his lips to yours.

His hand makes its way beneath your panties and he runs a finger through your abundant wetness, dragging it up to your clit. He uses your slick to rub circles into the sensitive bud. He pulls away from the kiss and you try to chase his mouth. He stops you by holding your head to the mattress with a hand on your jaw. He squeezes your cheeks until your mouth opens. He looks down at you and spits directly into your mouth.

“Swallow for me, baby.”

You follow his order without a second thought. Once you swallow, he brings his hand down to your neck. He rewards you by bringing a finger to your entrance and slowly pushing into your tight hole.

“Fuck, doll. I wanna be in this perfect little pussy. Do you want that? Want me to fill you up with my big cock? Wanna feel me deep inside you?”

“Yes, Bucky! Fu- I want it so-fuck so bad.”

He quickly adds a second finger and begins pumping them inside you at a brutal pace. His hand on your throat tightens ever so slightly and he watches your face to gauge your reaction. When your eyes roll back into your head and your pussy clamps down on his fingers, he grins and tightens his grip a little more.

The lack of blood flow to your head makes you feel fuzzy in the best way. You feel yourself getting close to your orgasm. Bucky keeps his pace as he fucks you on his fingers and keeps a careful eye on you, watching for the telltale signals of your climax. When he sees you squeeze your eyes shut and feels your pussy clench, he pulls his hand out altogether.

You look up at Bucky and loosens his grip on your neck, but keeps his hand resting there. You buck your hips up, your orgasm fading away rapidly. Bucky uses one hand to pin your hips to the bed.

“Bucky, no,” you whine, “I was so close.”

“I know, doll,” he gives you a mischievous smirk. “You were a bad girl earlier when you paid for dinner. You’re supposed to let me treat you. Let me take care of you. You wouldn’t let me take care of you then, so I’m not sure I should take care of you now.”

“Bucky please,” you beg, “Won’t do it again, promise. Just-nngh just take care of me please. Need you to make me come,” you hope your pleading is enough to convince him.

Bucky lets out a deep groan and smashes his lips against yours. He makes his way down your torso, stopping to pay special attention to your nipples. He ever so softly bites down on your nipple and you thread your fingers through his hair. He continues to trail kisses down your stomach. When he reaches your panties, he places wet kisses against the soaked fabric. You try to buck up into his mouth, but his hand is still pinning you down.

Finally, he reaches into the waistband of your panties and you raise your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs and throw them on the floor with your dress. You get another glimpse of the rock-hard bulge in his dress pants and you know that can’t be comfortable for him, but his attention is all on you right now. He makes himself comfortable between your legs and uses his hands to spread your pussy apart, getting a good look at it.

“Fucking perfect. Prettiest damn pussy I’ve ever seen, baby.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his lips are on you. He sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks at it with his tongue. You grab onto his hair with one hand and grab the sheets with the other. The screams you let out are almost pornographic. He alternates between licking your arousal up from where it’s seeping out of your hole and giving your sensitive clit attention. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, you feel yourself returning to the edge of the orgasm you’d just been denied.

He laps at your core and uses both hands to hold your hips down onto the bed. When your heavy breathing and the movement of your hips give away your oncoming orgasm, he pulls away again.

“NOO,” you practically scream, on the verge of tears. “Bucky,” you sob.

“That one was for giving me a hard on at dinner when you downed that whiskey.”

Before you have a chance to complain anymore, he places one last kiss on your clit and stands from the bed. You watch as he undoes his pants and they pool at his ankles. You can see a wet spot on his boxers where he’d been leaking precum. He drops those too and you’re met with the sight of him. His cock bobs up against his stomach.

He’s thick and long, with a patch of dark curly hair at his base. The tip is pink and shiny with his arousal. Your mouth waters at the sight and you want nothing more than to lick it off, but he crawls back onto the bed before you can make any move to do so. He hovers over you and you can feel the weight of his cock resting on your lower stomach.

“You want this, honey? Want to come all over my cock? Want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk in the morning?” he ruts against your stomach, waiting for a response.

“Please, Bucky. ‘S all I want. Ah- fuck. Need it so bad. I need to come.”

“I got you, sweet girl,” he gives you a reassuring look as he grabs his base and guides himself to your drenched core.

He pushes his fat tip into you, watching your face for any signs of pain. You’re so wet and aroused that he almost slides right in. You try to push your hips down, desparate to feel him deeper. He’s quick to pin you down again.

“Greedy girl.”

He eases himself into you at his own pace until his hips are flush against yours. You feel his pubic hair rubbing at your clit and begin to claw at his back, needing him to move.

“Fuck me, Bucky. Ah- god damn it,” you look up at him with pleading eyes, “Need you to move, baby.”

For the first time tonight, he listens to one of your demands. He slowly pulls all the way out, letting you feel every inch of his cock before he slams back in so hard it pushes you up the mattress. He braces himself with one arm on the bed and holds your hip with his other hand and sets a brutal pace. He thrusts deep and hard, tip pounding against your cervix with every punishing thrust. He moves the hand on your hip to rub at your clit.

“I’m not gonna last long baby. Fuck- be ah- be a good girl and come for me.”

You’re not far off and when he hits that spongy spot inside of you, you let out a scream.

“Fuck, right there!” you pant.

He rubs at your clit and thrusts into your g-spot. You feel yourself hurdling toward your orgasm for the third time tonight. Except this time, when you clamp down around Bucky’s cock, he redoubles his efforts instead of stopping. You see stars when you reach your peak and you drag your nails down Bucky’s back.

“Such a good girl for me, fuck. Where-ah where do you want me baby?”

“Inside, Bucky, please,” you want to know what it feels like to be full of his cum. “I’m on the pill.”

“Fuck, doll. So fucking good for me. My girl’s so good.”

You don’t miss the way he calls you his girl. And you certainly don’t mind it.

Bucky’s thrusts become shallow and his pace falters. He slams into you one last time and buries himself as deep as he can before shooting hot ropes of his seed into you. Once he empties his balls into you, he leans down, bracing himself on his forearms so as not to crush you. He slots his lips against yours and the two of you share breaths as you come down from your highs.

Once the two of you have caught your breath, he slowly pulls out of you. He places a kiss on your forehead and walks to the bathroom. You eye the dimples in his buttcheeks as he walks away. He returns shortly with a wet cloth and kneels between your thighs. He gingerly cleans his mess, aware of how sensitive you are.

When he finishes, he throws the cloth onto the floor and climbs up the bed to join you. You climb under the sheets and fold them over on the other side, offering Bucky the space. He happily lays down next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

“It was so good, Buck,” you manage to respond in your exhausted state.

“I’m sure you’d enjoy it more if I didn’t have to punish you, too,” you can’t see his face, but you know he has a cocky smirk on his face.

“You’ll have to show me, then.”

“Oh, believe me, sweet girl, I plan to.”

You fall asleep against Bucky’s strong chest, his hand scratching soothingly at your back.

820 notes · View notes

coolprettyleo · 9 months ago

Text

the jokes weren't funny. - connor bedard ☆

wc: 627

tw: filming, drama, sadness, mean comments

ryan leonard x ex oc

connor bedard x oc

death by a thousand cuts au

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

frankie hughes felt like she couldn't catch a break for the life of her.

no matter how many times the girl thought her life was finally getting better, it only seemed to turn around and smack her right back down.

she sat in the las Vegas hotel room in tears as she read through the comments about the latest TMZ article that, of course, had to do with her.

someone had filmed her and connor outside the bar last night as they waited for their Uber, and the video was quite interesting, to say the least.

it started off with the two of them drunkenly dancing around from the muffled bar music, obviously intoxicated, which seemed to cause a stir amongst the media, seeing as they were both underage and were supposed to be 'role models'. it only got worse because the two young adults seemed to forget they were in public and made out with each other against the wall a little later on into the video.

the comments were brutal, and she couldn't help but think she deserved every single one.

what happened to her and ryan? they were so cute.

omg she's cheating

puck bunny at its finest

leonards too good for her anyways

why do i ship

maybe it wouldn't have been such a big deal, but people still believed she was with ryan. they hadn't given anyone to believe they were over, they hadn't unfollowed each other or removed the pictures of each other from their social media, so it was understandable why the world thought she was a cheater.

she had definitely felt like one. her heart still belonged to ryan, but she was sure he would want nothing to do with her once he caught sight of the video.

she felt completely helpless, so she resorted to doing nothing but curl up into a ball and cry. wondering why the hell she was the way she was.

she was cut off from wallowing in self-pity when her manager, darcy, called. knowing it was going to be nothing but a scolding, she answered because she most likely had a solution.

"hello?" she answered a bit timidly.

"hello. I'm assuming you've seen the video, and I'm calling to tell you it's going to be fine. you were bound to have a scandal at some point; I'm just happy it isn't rehab yet. anyways, we have two choices, we can put out a statement on your behalf, or you unfollow and remove every picture of ryan from your feed," darcy rushed out.

"I don't- I don't want to do that," frankie said, feeling tears begin to sting her eyes. she felt like that would make the breakup so much more real, and she knew she wasn't ready to do that yet.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, honey. you're still on the rise, and a big scandal this early into your career won't go well. it's better to put out the fire before it gets bigger," darcy explained to her.

"I just feel like it will blow over if we, like, let it," Frankie said.

"it wouldn't just blow over! unless..." darcy thought as frankie waited. anything would sound better to her at this point.

"i mean, i would have to get in contact with his team, but I'm sure they'd be on board. the internet loves a good crossover, just look at taylor swift and travis kelce-"

"what?" frankie asked, confused as to who or what she was saying.

"we could make the public think you and ryan have been separated for a while now," she said

"and how would we do that?" frankie asked, scared to hear the answer.

"you get into a pr relationship with connor bedard, of course!"

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey fic #ryan leonard #bc hockey #connor bedard x reader #connor bedard x oc #connor bedard #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes #quinn hughes #luke hughes #frankie x ryan #ryan leonard x reader

139 notes · View notes

two-white-butterflies · 2 years ago

Text

F1 MASTERLIST

MAX VERSTAPPEN

that funny feeling - max verstappen soft-launches you.

do i wanna know? - max verstappen dates tony stark's daughter.

champion of the world - rumors spread around about you and max breaking up. (sainz!reader)

call it what you want - max verstappen proposes. (ricciardo!reader)

to keep me warm - he ends up dating a superstar. (singer!reader)

the last time - you wanted to be his priority, is that to much to ask? (indie-actress!reader)

invisible strong - (ex-driver!reader) (prema racing team principal!reader)

she's poison - your relationship is exposed and no one believes that max is dating you. (it-girl!reader)

down in florence, alabama - daniel ricciardo's sister gets cheated on by carlos sainz. she heals and dates max.

you won't forget me - max verstappen attends an event - coincidentally his ex girlfriend plays her new song.

monopoly go - he attacks you on monopoly. you find him on facebook. turns out he's hella famous.

blue bannisters - domestic bliss. (short)

imgonnagetyouback - he ends the relationship with a phone call

FERRARI BOYS

i love you in the morning - charles leclerc and his racer girlfriend.

violets for roses - you break up then get back again. (neurosurgeon!reader)

jasmine wind - toto doesn't approve of your boyfriend. (wolff!reader)

they don't know about us - charles gets online hate. (singer!reader)

foolish one - your relationship gets exposed in the weirdest way. (verstappen!reader)

tolerate it - you break up with charles and date max.

no time to die - after a messy breakup with charles leclerc. you resort to feuding with him online. in where, he hates your guts.

archer - after a series of instagram posts - your ex-friend fabricates screenshots that almost end your career. (singer!reader) (reputation themed)

nothing else matters - the internet hates you

is it over now? - you reminisce about a relationship that wasn't meant to be.

loss of my life - you are the biggest superstar. you break up with your longtime boyfriend. it's lonely at the top. (singer!reader)

who could ever leave me, darling? - carlos sainz supports you. (singer!reader)

lover boy - carlos gets jealous when someone hits on you. (lawyer!reader)

lucky one - you get attacked by paparazzi's and carlos goes into full protective mode. (actress!reader)

old money - carlos meets your parents, while twitter discovers your identity. (heiress!reader)

the last time - you date carlos after dating max. (actress!reader)

don't need no side chick - you release a song about him.

ibalik ang korona sa espanya - filipina reader who studies in UST.

we would've been - carlos sainz' childhood friend

smart sexy lacy - three years after that horrible breakup with charles leclerc; now you're dating his teammate. what happens when certain deals are levied upon you? will you follow through or go back to what you're used to?

three billion, you're the one - you create a song after breaking up with carlos. (singer!reader)

take her home - he meets a woman on the internet and dates her. (doctor!reader)

it was all yellow - hidden/secret baby trope

the city of love - your wedding ring falls into the seine river.

RANDOM

drug - toto wolff meets his girlfriend's parents. (horner!reader)

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Set in an au universe. I don't do smut in this, only fluff and blurbs. All scenes and blurbs that are written are not related to their real life - if by some reason, it seems related - that is coincidental. I don't tolerate sexualizing the f1 drivers.

I strictly do social media aus.

#f1 social media au #formula one social media au #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader

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ladylarynn · 6 months ago

Text

Alleyway Affairs

Summary: The last you heard from Astarion, he told you to "die screaming." Months later, you find each other again. Only this time, deep in the city, in an alley under nightfall. Perhaps, he will bleed you dry. Or perhaps, he has other plans for you.

Rating: E

Word Count: 7.2k

Pairing: Astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: 18+ REVIEW THE TAGS! established relationship pre breakup, post ending for BG3, blood drinking, exhibitionism, p in v, creampie, explicit consent, angst, additional tags posted on ao3

read on ao3

or keep reading below <3

It is in the end— after the blood had been shed, the world nearly ended. When you are once more alone, companions returning to their new obligations or new plights, when you are left with kind consolation and heavy goodbyes.

The city sleeps, yet often you do not. Residing at differing inns from night to night, you attempt to lead a life nameless once more. A lack of sleep, a predilection for forgetting. Perhaps that is also what led you here, entering a tavern prevalent in profound impropriety and bottomless drink.

The ale is a warm rush of current down your throat, a haze settling inside your mind. The scintillating fireplace of licking flames cast rhythms of shadow across unfamiliar faces.

You’re here on business… or rather, pursuing a whisper of opportunity. It isn’t unnatural to be stood up in this line of inquiry. Not many mages boast of wish spells, and even fewer know how to get their hands on one.

You had managed to not resort to needing Gale this long… so. Other avenues became necessary.

At least that is what you keep telling yourself as you keenly monitor the door.

One door close, and you pick lock it open, but your years in this line of work were hells bent on survival. Not miracles.

Yet, your miracles are not here. At least, one of them doesn’t show. The other you hope won’t.

You groan, cradling your head with your hands, then kneading balled fists against your eyes. The man eyeing you from across the bar coughs to conceal his sudden disinterest. Who can blame him? You’re pathetic.

“The deal is still on the table. You play your part just like you used to, and I help. The hero act wasn’t going to last, you know. Coming here is a testament to the matter.”

You grip the handle of your mug, your drink swishing to and fro. It all but topples over onto the front of your undershirt as you raise it to your lips. You take deep gulps, liquid dribbling down your chin. You smear it away.

You cannot get drunk quickly enough.

However, as the hour plays on, you begin to curse your tolerance of drink, as well as everything else gone wrong in the past months.

Fuck.

Gods, surely there is no use to this anymore—

A honeyed voice pollutes your buzz. It is a suave soliloquy, with syllables like rose petals. It wafts in the air, laughter silk soft with an undercut of severity. It prickles up your posture, and you are shrouded in thorns.

Fuck.

As sly as you may, you cast a glance over your shoulder, and there he is.

Without the tadpole's defiance of the sun, Astarion was thrust into the night once more, cavalierly caviling at the young man draped under his arm. The man is of noble build, with embroidered robes adorned in maroon and amethyst gems. The noble’s cheeks are a flush delight fueled by the splendor of Astarion’s charm.

The sight is the sea collapsing into you, wave after wave. Breath sealed in sinking lungs. You will drown if you don’t look away.

There are two awful realities to unfold before you.

One, how dismayingly odd the noble is for someone of Astarion’s taste. Just met his prime, early twenties, broad shoulders, and bright-eyed. These types were the kind Astarion would toy with until they bristled and cried. Not the kind he’d be involved with.

You swiftly shift to stare into your half-empty glass. A shiver stills your sigh.

Unless of course, the context of taste meant something entirely different.

Then it was most certainly his type.

You take a swig.

Second.

Astarion is philandering.

With your intended mark.

You shouldn’t look again. But you must be sure. On first inspection, the noble fits the bill all right; medium height, thin build, pale eyes, hair, and skin. The description checks out, everything but the—

A cacophony of swooning laughter manages to reach your side of the tavern.

“He laughs like a hyena.”

You turn, slow as if that will help conceal your gaze. It doesn’t.

Crimson eyes meet yours, and dread pollutes your surroundings, your thoughts, and your breath. Your stomach drops, the skin of your arms pebbling as a chill slinks its lips down your spine.

This is not how you planned the night to go.

There it is again, the clutch of your gut, the crater burrowing itself into the trenches of you.

You had not died— screaming, as he had last proclaimed. The reminder of those words, dripping in contempt, brazen in believed betrayal. They had marred your thoughts and sought to spoil the solace of your soul. The severance of your last encounter had sunk its teeth into you, chewed sinew, and spit out the scraps.

Astarion.

He whom you had given everything— anything— for. Gone. Never to be seen again.

But he is here— and you… you realize you really shouldn’t be.

You can’t be.

The mark can wait. There will be other nights.

Within a fluid movement, you set your mug aside, reach into your pouch, and spill gold coins across the counter. You make haste from the bar to the entrance. You slide behind shoulders and wade through strangers cackling and clinking cups unaware.

Even so, you feel him watching you.

The tavern bell chimes. You cringe with the acknowledgment it calls forth to you. The breath in your lungs constricts, the agony in the urgency to flee from his line of sight too much to endure.

Why is he here? Shouldn’t he be in the Underdark?

Did recognition pass across his countenance? He could have seen you but not see you.

This is the only comfort you can indulge in as you quicken your pace, the city lamp yellow hues sluicing and splaying across the street.

You’ve sobered up. Yet, everything is spinning. Swaying. Turning inside out.

You’re panicking.

A bell chimes and footfalls patter behind you. You don’t even need to look. The thought is nauseating. How well-versed you are in the sound of his steps.

“I hope you die screaming.”

It resounds in your mind just as he calls your name. It sounds foreign. It sounds like a memory. Like a dream, you never wake from.

You have half a mind to keep walking, roaming further into the city and into the surrounding, comforting dark.

He could want to make his past proclamation true.

Perhaps you’d let him if only to be rid of this ache.

This burden you bury beneath your smiles and behind your eyes, the loss of him you carry in your voice.

How it is known by all who know you.

“I didn’t think I would find you alone, in my time of the night. Where are your companions, darling?” His tone tinged in disdain; his darling laced with ridicule. There is a slow decline in breath. It staggers still in your lungs, like tangled strands caught in dragging dingers. Is it dread? Is it grief? Perhaps it is a touch of mourning.

You know now what you knew the last you spoke— you are the bearer for all that did not come to fruition. You are the reason he won’t say our companions. Our friends.

And though you loathe yourself for losing him, though you blame yourself for all the things you previously thought you were sheltering him from. You cannot endure this in silence any longer. Not when the chance to confront him is here.

Who are you to run away? You have spent your whole life running.

This isn’t imprisonment. This isn’t a life sentence.

Yet… isn’t it?

You can’t go on like this. You haven’t been.

You whip around, and Astarion stumbles into you. As you collide— his scarlet eyes widen, and a flash of recollection startling your pulse. The effect of being this close isn’t lost on you. You can see, even under the dim lanterns glow the crease of his brow, the wrinkle in his nose, the dip of his cupid’s bow. But just as sudden, he steels himself, stepping back and straightening, a glint in his glare, wrath warping his mouth and brandished on his tongue.

You muster the will to speak before he can.

“They were your companions as much as they were mine,” you bite back, though the spite of it makes you hesitate. Whatever you feel doesn’t matter.

“But…” you sigh, then start again, “that matters not…” you offer.

Your companions who watched you wither away the moment he left. Companions who offered you condolences yet spoke in passing of how things may have been different— for Astarion’s fate. It was blameless yet… how could they have not blamed you? And maybe that is why when it was over, you pushed them all away.

That is why you offered goodbyes in place of being a part of the next journey.

Karlach’s hand on your back, Shadowheart’s curt smile, La’zel’s tense jaw, Gale’s exasperation, Wyll’s sorry nod.

You’d never known family—let alone friends. So why grieve yourself over it?

Even if you gave all you could, even though you had killed yourself to keep the world.

It means nothing now.

All you can do is make him see sense. All you can do is convince him to listen, to hear you. You just didn’t think it would happen this soon when you are unready. When you are still angry— at yourself, at him, at everything.

“What matters is that I am sorry,” you plead, and Astarion teeters on his heel, bombarded by your insistence. But you can’t stop. Even if he thinks you are pathetic—distasteful or blunt.

Your hurt is too deep. You remember the vitriol in your supposed lover’s voice. You remember scrubbing your skin raw after the battle with Cazador. You remember numbly thinking if that was all you always were to him. A plot for protection. A ploy for power.

Hadn’t he said as much?

“I’m sorry how things ended. Now if that is all you wanted, let us be on our way,” you bitterly retort. You mean to turn your back on him, on all of this.

But just as sudden, the verses of carved intent burn at the inside of your wrist.

Dammit.

A contract is a contract.

Even if you walk away. Your past self has condemned you.

Abruptly, his cold, nimble fingers curl around your forearm. His filed nails nip into your skin— though the pain doesn’t end there. His touch burns through you fields of forlorn faith of anything different than the vile sure to leave his tongue.

He is incredulous.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say to me? Are you sorry to be reminded of how you refused to help me despite stating you would? How you ruin any chance of me ascending, of being more than my captor? You’re sorry?!” He bellows out, the way he does when things are far too outrageous to constrain within a reasonable decibel.

The words stick like tar and taste of arsenic. He must have rehearsed a version of these lines before, as he always made sure to hone his skill of slights. They puncture the air with each consonant, every vowel, as he draws you in closer.

His presence encircles you, a predator playing with its prey. He could end you here and now, drain you of all you are.

As if he hadn’t already.

You yank your arm away and vociferate back.

“I ruined your chance at becoming Cazador. You couldn’t see it. You wouldn’t. The spawn aside, you would have been damned. I love—” a near concession you barely manage to conceal, “I loved you,” you finish.

Dammit! You love him. His mean proclivity. His budding vulnerability. His gentle rebuffs. The sly quips, the grandiose turn of phrase, the sharp smiles, the soft uncertainty of palms alleviating parts of you that were left derelict. When the others slept, you’d glide your fingers through his strands of hair, humming quiet, close, gentle. You never knew if he truly saw you in the same way— as if you were precious as if you were his new comprehension of eternity.

It is why you’d been willing to risk your reputation to pay repentance. To earn some semblance of forgiveness.

Even if you had to become what you once were…

He wouldn’t have to.

And that is enough. Yet—

Yet, you blink and blink it back.

You can’t cry- not like this. Not now.

“I was trying to…” it almost tumbles from your tongue. Save you. That is what you mean to say. But it feels wrong to say it— it felt wrong even then, even if that is what you meant to do, even if it was done with intent rife with compassion, with desperation to help him. You know, deep down, he will despise you further if you admit it. You hadn’t wanted to fix him, but in that moment, you knew love would never heal him. Nor power. Not vengeance.

It was through choice— a choice you seemingly made for him.

So, you halt yourself. Shake your head, and turn away.

“Love?!” He sputters at your confession in disbelief. You hadn’t told him that before. It was never the right moment, or perhaps you feared rejection. Even if you had said it countless times, like the mantra pounding in your heart, would he have ever believed you?

He grips your wrist this time, preventing you from even daring to leave.

“I needed you. And you went back on your promise.” He says indignant. “I should kill you for what you took from me.” He gestures towards the blade sheathed at his hip and for an instant you… you wouldn’t mind if he did.

You’ve been beaten, bloodied, beguiled, spurned. What is left of you after the fight for the city? Victories wrought with death, a closure that did not fulfill. All of it was done with a broken heart.

Deep within, you cave.

How did we become this?

Your features crumble, brows pinching together and tears beginning to burn, threatening to descend your cheeks. You’d never let him see you cry. He’d heard you before… held you as you shook beside him. But never would you show your face. It was too much. For anyone.

Except… the night he left. In front of the others— you wept.

You cannot retreat into the night, for he knows the dark better than you. You had thought he’d known you better.

In the thralls of morality, you finally had the chance to do right by the world. So, you tried. Always.

It’s why he disliked you once. It’s why he cared for you later. It’s why he detests you now.

“Then go ahead Astarion, kill me if you must. But I… I love you with all of me. I promised I’d help you defeat Cazador. I never said I’d aid you in ascending. And you know— you had known I wouldn’t.”

It is a dagger through your heart, the tears have come, yet you cannot hide.

You’d said it.

Love. Not loved. Not the past tense, but the current, the now, the always, the evermore.

For a moment you think he didn’t hear you, didn’t believe you, or thought it a lie. With his proficiency in deceit, shouldn’t he recognize the absence of it?

Astarion’s resolve begins to crack. His lips twitched downward, his jaw tense. The watery remorse seeping into your voice makes him shutter, makes him step back. He clenches his fists, his eyes shutting tight. It’s as though he’s fighting— against what you say— against what has become of you both.

He opens his eyes, on the verge of tears.

“You had no right to refuse me,” he jabs his finger toward your chest, his words are crumpled, falling apart, “you said you would do what I needed.”

“I thought I was doing what you needed,” you insist, hands puncturing your wavering intonation, “That I— I couldn’t do what you wanted. And for that— I am sorry… I am sorry.”

You begin to cradle yourself, backing up, treading away from this… demise of you.

You mutter while meeting his eyes again.

“I know what you want now. I promise you will never see me again.”

Just as the others.

As soon as it leaves your lips, his hands are on your arm, at your wrist. He drags you down the dim alleyway between the tavern and the inn. He seizes you against the opposing wall, your body caged by his, your spine straightening to the cool press of brick.

He is all-consuming, a tidal wave. The moonlight combs through the waves of his hair and coruscates in the gleam of crimson irises. You inhale the aroma of his skin, and it riddles you speechless, the notes of rosemary, the undercurrent of bergamot and cinnamon intoxicating.

Anchoring you to the spot, Astarion is seething.

“No,” he pauses, squeezes his eyes closed, and shakes his head in contention before clenching your wrists tighter, pale red ringlets sure to form. “You don’t get to cry… you betrayed me. Maybe I didn’t become Cazador, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t become much worse.” A mirthless smile snags at the corner of his lips. He scrunches his nose, as if in disgust.

“Don’t look at me like I’m the one who did that to you. Don’t tell me you love me now.”

You steel yourself. You know the game he is playing all too well. You can’t let him see the wound he’s prying wide open, even if your heart is plummeting to the abyss inside your chest, even if your stomach churns.

You step into his space, causing him to flinch, his sneer slipping from his smug face. You murmur quiet, kind.

“You were afraid. I know. But power would not have quilled your fear. No one would hurt you more than you would have hurt yourself. You would have become everything you despise, and I couldn’t watch it happen.”

His grip has lessened. He looks at you with timid uncertainty.

Your voice hardens.

“You can hate me for it. You can kill me for it. But I never wanted to hurt you.”

What you say lingers in the air for a long moment. He regards you with an inscrutable expression.

But it shifts. It morphs. It becomes impenetrable, unknowable. Astarion does what he does best. He withdraws within himself. He counters with defiance.

“The path to the hells is paved with good intentions, my dear.”

You gasp as he releases your wrist, then bring his deft fingers to glide over the underside of your jaw. You shiver, ensnared by the sensation of his sharp nails, his thumb pressing against the seam of your lips, parting them ever so slightly. He drags his thumb over the plush of your bottom lip, and the breath strangled in your lungs releases in a broken sigh, his touch igniting a memory, only known by your skin.

He surveys you with a raised brow, with prowling eyes. His eyes peruse your body as his other hand descends your forearm, nails tracing an aimless motif. Fingers flow from there to the bend of your waist, featherlight over the fabric of your blouse. He curls his palm snugly on your side, thumb positioned beneath the underside of your breast. He can feel your inhale beneath his splaying fingertips. You exhale shakily slow, clinging to the façade of indifference. He tilts his head with a tsk of disapproval, then gently grips your chin.

He flattens his palm over part of your cheek and jaw, slanting your head. He brushes your hair aside, unveiling your neck, then skims his lips over the shell of your ear. He is so close, so familiar. The sanctuary of this nostalgia overcomes you. His cashmere voice is a susurration for surrender.

“Say you’ll let me,” he coos, and the sweet redolence of his presence pervades your senses. Yet, you must try to resist, even when his fingers at your side wade up and down, soothing, and — tempting. When his lips press beneath your ear, then over your pulse, warmth cascades down inside your core, and your knees buckle. You feel the heat bloom between your thighs, your sanity yielding from this all-encompassing yearning.

He drags his fangs over the nape of your neck yet does not bite. Instead, he hallows his cheeks and begins to suck, a violet blossom blooming into your skin beneath his mouth.

You tremble against him, another gasp fumbling from your lips.

“Oh.”

You feel him smile as he hums against the hollow of your throat in approval. Your hips jolt toward his, and you inhale brokenly as his arousal presses to your stomach. It is straining against the fabric of his trousers, firm and full.

Your lust threatens to unravel all sense. Your mind is in the mist.

Latching onto your heavy gaze with his own, he repeats himself.

“Say you’ll let me.”

He says it with resolute intonation, yet an inkling of doubt tinges the end of his sentence. It is not a command, though not a question either. Perchance, he is not sure for which he implies. If he is struggling with who he has created himself to be, or if he is still the Astarion you knew.

Never treading too far, too close, without reassurance. Yet, here, and now, he treads the line of persistence in proving to you the error of your ways. The error in endeavoring to see him, to know him for all the beautiful, the soft, and the gentle. For forgetting who he was made to be. For thinking ascension would be the thing that would break him when he, himself, is too far gone.

You ache with the love you have for him.

“Show me the kind of man you’ve become,” you reply, calm, “Why ask for permission?”

He hesitates for a moment, doe-eyed and dazed.

Then, he decides.

He tilts his head, looking at your lips.

“I wasn’t.” Astarion states, with a cadence of wavering insistence, and with it, you sink lower into the surrounding night.

Your body tensing, your pulse quickening.

His fingers leave your side and weave into the strands of your hair. He pulls your head into a slant once again, causing the nape of your neck to become completely and utterly exposed. The markings of his kisses are scattered along the skin, like that of his own design.

The moonlight swims in his half-hooded gaze, glints off his fangs, and fills you to the brim with trepidation.

There is a sudden, stark stillness in your body.

He mutters, insouciant, “I’ll bleed you dry.”

His breath is a warm flush on your skin, and then his fangs delve deep.

“Ahh!” you hiss, sagging into the adjacent wall. His lips enclose, as he begins to suck a stream of your blood into his voracious mouth. He is harsh in his thirst, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every thick swallow of your blood he takes, the tug of your hair eliciting a dull pain.

Despite this— a sinful sense of pleasure saturates the pain, as it always does when he feeds. Your pulse, heightened, like an orchid in full bloom, beating a deafening rhythm. It is reverberating in your ears, in your temples. Your fear once formidable now fleeting, flowing away with each draw of your blood to his lips.

The euphoria of feeding envelops you in a lukewarm embrace, milky mind a mirage. His grip eases on your hair, and he steadies your jaw with caressing fingers, the rush of your blood now a slow, steady pull from your veins. The effect of drinking entrances him, and you feel the hum of his moan, the lulling of his languorous lips.

It is as though you are being anointed, touched by phantom palms in all the places you yearn— the heat building beneath your skin like a fever that will burn you alive. Your voice, a lilt of his name, shivery and silver. He hmmms against your neck, and your fingers find their way into his curls, trailing your nails through his strands and over his scalp.

He groans, deep in his throat. It is just like the way he used to, those many months ago.

It is like your head is floating, the fever a flavor you sought to forget— but there is no forgetting, not when it is etched into the marrow, into your soul. You want him. So much, you are distraught with want, the heat coalescing at your core, seeping down your inner thighs.

He unlatches his mouth, just to mutter, voice drenched in desire, “I can taste it. You’re so eager for me.”

“I— I don’t—” you whimper in response, biting your lip. But as you try to deny—

Astarion holsters your wilting body up and shifts his knee, pushing it between your thighs. The friction is not nearly enough, yet all too much. You try to resist, yet all sense has vanished. You succumb to him, rolling your hips against his knee, aching for relief. Astarion’s breath catches in his lungs, and though your eyes have fallen shut, you don’t know if it’s to solely focus on the chase of a teetering high or to escape the city’s midnight mussitations. Maybe it is to memorize the motion of hips, the silk of his sigh, the bend of his fingers clenching and unclenching on your waist. It’s building and building, a relentless sea in the mellow meringue of his dipping vowels, the thrumming of this heat enough to drown in.

His knee drops, and despite yourself, you let out a faint whine. You think it is on purpose, a cruel way to deter your relief, yet he grips your hips and pulls you flush against him.

He feels so good, heavy, and thick, snug against where you need him most.

He grinds into you with every sashaying sigh, his head drooping into the crook of your neck. His dulcet exhales tremor through you, showering your head from toe. Your toes curl inside your boots, and your hands clench in fistfuls of his hair.

You don’t know how far this will go— especially here, only concealed by nightfall.

If it remained like this, insatiable, yet… safe. Not crossing the line…

Just as the thought nips at you, Astarion is wedging down the sides of your trousers inch by inch, your mound of curls peeking out from your underwear. He means to feel you, to know the wetness between your thighs. You clench them together, suddenly shy, sheepish at him having evidence of how eager you truly are, how completely he’s undone you with only this continual grazing of his hips, a brush of his lips to the shell of your ear.

You part your thighs, just barely enough for him to flatten his palm and curl his knuckles around your cunt, fingers a touch away from delving between your folds. Yet— he doesn’t. He hovers his fingers there. He is waiting for something yet can’t quite admit.

You know.

You nod, ever so slightly, and give in, letting him set the pace, letting him ascertain what he needs from you.

“Please,” you say, trying to withstand shifting into his touch.

His chest rises and falls. His ring finger slides over the seam of your lower lips, thumb a featherlight swirl around your clit. He teases his middle finger between your folds, sinking slowly until he is knuckle-deep. Your hands leave his hair and find purchase on his shoulders. Your head sways and you bite your bottom lip, stifling a moan.

“Mmmn—“

“You like this?” He says, not unkind. He gently pumps his finger in and out, in and out. A leisurely tempo of sweet torture.

“Yes.”

He lifts his head to look at you, crimson irises a thin ring, his pupils blown wide.

“You want more, don’t you darling,” he encourages you in a sly teasing tone, with a lilt of consideration.

“Yes—“

His ring finger pushes in, and you adjust to the width of them both. Your heartbeat is like a crescendo, as his fingers glide, soaked in your arousal. Again, and again, they pump into you, increasing in pressure, in pace. His thumb twirls over your clit, lazy circles compared to his fingers.

Your nose scrunches, your nails dig into his shoulders. He coos into your ear, praises of you sound so insatiable, such a good girl.

It’s coming, you know it when your hips begin to jut forward sporadically, the coil tightening in your core about to snap. Sizzles of stars pepper behind your eyelids, and stream down your spine.

But can you be quiet enough? What if someone hears you? Sees you?

The inkling of worry must show on your face.

“Just focus on my fingers,” he soothes, “on my voice.”

His thumb massages over your clit, and you gasp out a fragmented version of Ah—starion.

“Let me make you cum, sweetheart,” he susurrates, “you’re so beautiful like this. Clenching on my fingers, whimpering my name.”

His reassurances are relentless, and you tip over the edge of oblivion, rashly muffling your moans into his shoulder, into the fabric of his shirt. Waves of white wash over you, pulse thrumming in your chest.

It is pooling in your core, soaking his fingers, and dripping down his wrist.

You hear him give a shaky breath, wrought with longing and saccharine anguish by your release.

“I want you… I… I can’t— I need you,” he admits on impulse, his fingers sliding out from you, drenched. You tremble at the loss of them, nearly delirious in your post-high. His words make your core clench, make you feverish once more.

Does he mean to take you? Right here? Right now?

A concoction of concern looms over you, and you lift your head from his shoulder. You glance at him, then dart your gaze from one side of the alley, a dead-end brick wall, to the other side. The street before you is devoid of life, no Flaming Fist patrollers, no drunkards huddled in dusk. The lanterns give a dim glow, swaying in the cool breeze. Nevertheless, the light cannot reach you here. Though, surely someone will leave the tavern once the hour’s shade dissipates, to flee home from a brawl, or to sluggishly crawl into bed.

You look to him once more, and again it is as though he reads your mind.

“I know,” he sounds pained, head drooping. By the tension of his trousers, the shut of his eyes, perhaps he is.

“I won’t… we don’t have to,” he quietly assures, and it is so unlike the bravado of before. It is delicate.

You see him, the Astarion you had once been devoted to. Ready to fight for, to die for. And although it may lead to disaster, to the unraveling of your very being, you have never been surer.

This evidently wasn’t only about lust. If it had been, he’d have left you by now for your mark in the tavern. He wouldn’t have followed; he wouldn’t have touched. To be this close had always been a rarity done out of a need to be cared for, adored, to be cherished. Though he may never love you, though he may be planning to hurt you in a way worse than death, you… if only for tonight…

Your palm caresses his cheek, and you meet his eyes.

“I want you,” you murmur, “I’ll be quiet.”

A breath and his eyelashes fall over his eyes as they watch your lips. He leans in close.

“Let me hear you,” he states, then his lips are on yours. The seal of his lips eases the weight of hesitation from your skin, his honeyed mouth in harmony against yours. His tongue slides over the seam and you part your lips, tangling your tongue with his. His needy palms are at your waist, gripping and pulling you nearer as he angles his head, deepening the kiss. You nip at his bottom lip, and he groans in his throat.

You briefly come up for air, panting with the metallic aftertaste of your blood lingering on your tongue. A chill hits your exposed skin as he anchors his fingers at your pants once more, tugging them down until they fall to your knees. You step out of them, a flourish of fear amalgamating with shameful escalating arousal. He pulls you in for another kiss, as his fingers begin to fumble with his waistband. You aid in his endeavor, dragging his pants down until his cock can spring free.

You taste his steadying inhale. He breaks the kiss, then hooks one of your legs over his arm, pushing your back further into the wall, deeper into the cocooning shadow.

You are vibrating with anticipation, dripping onto the floor. He presses the head of his cock to you, and you quiver. He nuzzles it over your folds, then glides it back and forth, until it’s slick, until it’s ready.

You look at him, and the array of emotions passing over his countenance is like deciphering a blur of seasons changing. Your chest is heaving. You are fully bare, fully vulnerable, in more ways than one.

You need him so fucking bad, your hips push forward instinctively, the head of his cock nearly dipping inside you. He responds in a low, guttural grunt, hiking your leg a bit higher, bumping the tip of his cock against your sex once more.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, half delirious, half desperate, rolling his hips into you.

His brows are furrowed, white lashes cast over closed eyes. The damask rose of his flushed cheeks, the pink tips of his pointed ears, pale skin incandescent under the moonlight.

He feels so good, so heavy, and thick sliding over your sex.

He looks so beautiful, the corner of his lips smudged with your blood, the scarlet trail disappearing down his jaw.

But it matters not— his body, his beauty. It is all of him, in every way. The meadows of his mind, the lilies of his laugh. The valleys of his voice, the lavenders of his language. The willows of his worries, the serene of sunrise in his smiles—

Your heart could burst outside your chest. Your vision is a stretch of liquid silhouette.

“I love you,” you say, as if it is as natural as breathing, as simple as the sun rising at dawn.

He reacts in a tremulous exhale, nostrils a flare and the arm anchoring your leg falling a little.

A flush of embarrassment flames in your cheeks.

He probably didn’t mean for you to say that again.

An apology is on the tip of your tongue when he repositions himself at your entrance and sinks in.

Inch by inch.

“Ah—!” You gasp, yet his palm is quick to soften the sound as he encloses it over your mouth. You whine into his hand; your eyes rolling back as he sheathes himself inside your wet, hot heat. You squirm slightly to adjust to the girth of him. He doesn’t stop pressing forward until you are full to the brim.

Astarion pulls out almost completely, before slamming back inside. His hand falls a bit from your lips, and as if by instinct you part your lips, sucking his index and middle finger into your mouth. You peek at him with low-lidded eyes, and he curses the gods beneath his breath.

You hum around his fingers as he sets a sinful rhythm of a gradual outward pull, a heavy plunge in. The slapping of skin echoes softly in the alleyway, and it is downright disgraceful, yet you become lost in its soliloquy. He is undoing the tethers of your mind, diluting all sense.

There is no doubt he feels it too, his agonizingly slow pace increasing in intensity, his quiet pants becoming drawn-out moans.

“Gods, you feel so fucking good,” he mutters, pumping himself in and out, over, and over. You think you may go insane. His fingers pop from your mouth, and he takes hold of your chin.

“Look at me,” he instructs, and you comply, though it makes you blush, makes you boil hot in your blood.

“Say it again,” Astarion commands, and you clench around him in astonishment, in a flare of pleasure. You whimper unintelligibly, glancing away, embarrassment steeping in your face as a surge of wetness coats his cock.

He nearly loses control.

“Say it,” he growls out as he slams deep into you again. His hand clasps your jaw, fingers a curve over part of your neck, urging you to look at him once more.

“I love you,” you confess. You feel tears beginning to prick your eyes, as an impending orgasm sears within you something fierce. Your cunt tightens over his cock, you feel him throb.

“Again.” He orders through clenched teeth, thrusts now sloppy, uneven.

“I love… I—” You try to speak, yet the words are a jumble from your mouth. It’s coming, oh fuck… it’s…

“I love you,” you profess, just as your orgasm consumes you in licks of flame, in rivers of euphoric relief, just as—

Fangs. Fangs delve deep into your neck, the shivery silk of your orgasmic high becoming static fuzz, as Astarion begins to drink your blood like he’d gone centuries without it.

You try to speak, but you are left speechless, as with each draw of your blood, you feel his cock pulse inside of you, his body shuttering, his groans vibrating into the hallow of your throat.

Astarion sucks hard, his hips slamming into yours as he reaches his climax. His cock spasms as he releases his seed inside you, droplets of his cum dripping to your feet. The rush of your blood being drained renders you weightless.

He is devouring you, mouthful, after mouthful.

“Astarion—” you plead, fingers clenching in his hair, tugging at his head. He won’t budge, won’t stop.

“Please,” you beg, tears beginning to cascade down your cheeks.

It is as though he can’t listen, as if set in a trance. Your heartbeat starts to slow, your sight fading.

Your grip loosens on his hair. You don’t pull— instead, you graze your fingernails over his scalp, like an ocean wave meeting the shore, trying to remind him, trying to—

BANG.

A door swings open, the sound emitting from the tavern. Astarion jolts, fangs yanking out of your flesh, blood spilling down his chin. His cock slips from you, and you sigh at the loss of him. Your consciousness ebbs in and out. You slump against the wall, almost unable to stand as he drops your leg to the floor.

You feel his frenzied hands at your ankles, yanking up your trousers. You numbly watch his flustered movements as he pries up his own pants.

Foreign voices ring out, an argument of sorts. You aren’t sure.

You aren’t sure of anything.

Astarion is mouthing words at you. His hair in disarray. His eyes glistening in the moonlight. He attempts to keep you standing, while scouring the floor for something.

“Please,” he suddenly sounds so frantic, so afraid. You feel something bump against your lips.

“Please drink. Darling, please,” he implores.

He tips the bottle and something familiar hits your tongue. You begin to gulp it down, the bottle trembling in his hold as you do.

A cool nourishment floods your body, and your senses and your surroundings return to you once more.

A potion of healing.

You drink until the bottle is empty. Though you feel rejuvenated, it is not enough to wholly quell the effects of blood loss. The skirmish down the street seizes your bones in realization, a welcome distraction from what just occurred.

You cannot get caught like this.

You hand the bottle back to Astarion wordlessly, avoiding his eyes. You double-check your body and find at least you are fully clothed. The sticky mess between your thighs and in the crook of your neck, however, brings anything but relief.

“We need to go.” You mutter emotionless, attempting to brush past him.

Could you still scale the wall in this state? It’s a miracle you’re even breathing right now.

Astarion grabs your wrist and says your name.

“You can’t,” he states, and again, he knows your thoughts. It does anything but endear you.

He continues, “Not like this. We need to wait for them to leave.”

“Why?” You bite back in a whisper. “So you can finish me off?”

He recoils with the stab of your words.

Good.

You yank your hand away.

It would have been one thing if he’d just had his meal, but instead, he made sure he had all of you.

You don’t know if it’s him you’re more upset with, or yourself. A sob claws at your throat. You turn away from him, approaching the wall. You begin to scope out a path for your hands and feet.

“It’s your fault.” He declares, and you stiffen, unmoving. You peer back at him.

“Yes. All my fault,” you move towards him, finger jabbing into his chest.

You take your wrist, and without forethought, smear it over the blood still wet at your neck.

You extend it out for him to see. A contract, made in blood, visible only in blood, illuminates in a yellow scrawl of initials on your skin.

“And I have done everything to make up for it.”

His eyes widen in shock. He grips your wrists, inspecting the golden glow of letters.

“Why—”

“A wish scroll,” you don’t let him finish, “I complete the contract, and I get a wish scroll. It could… it could cure you… or at least allow you to live in the sun.”

He drops your wrist, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How many?”

“Seventeen.”

He lets out a breath.

“Only seventeen?”

“Of noble birth,” you state, “though still far better than seven thousand.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

A voice rings out from down the street. Someone is calling the nightly patrollers.

You tense and then turn away once more.

“You’ll need me alive if you want that scroll. So, let’s part from here. I’m sure I can find you once I get it.”

“This isn’t you,” he argues, “the hero of the grove, the savior of Baldur’s gate, of the world. You can’t tell me your feelings for me are enough to inspire this.”

“Astarion.” You slide a palm down your face. This conversation is going nowhere, and you’re running out of time.

“There are things about me I never spoke of. That our friends could never know. I wanted to be something different, and I was. But this is more to me than that. You are more to me than that.”

He is silent. Your voice softens. You’re about to cry.

“I’ll see you when it’s over.”

Before he can respond, a CLANG clatters from the street. A rustle of feet, and voices rising. Someone is being arrested.

You don’t waste time to find out. You begin to scale the wall, ignoring the throb of your neck, and the exhaustion of your limbs. You force yourself to climb until you’ve reached the top.

You don’t look back at him. You slide over the other side, then hit the ground running.

You hear him call after you, yet you don’t stop. You won’t.

You run as far as you can, bitterly knowing that when morning comes, at least then you’ll be safe from him.

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