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nanaslutt · 5 months

Note

entering zenin clan as toji's little trophy wife

contains: fem reader, established relationship, age gap (not specified), misogyny, naoya needs his own warning, voyeurism, masturbation, choking, rough sex, riding, dirty talk, cumming inside (toji has a vacectomy), Toji is a good husband, praise

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Your large husband Toji stood in front of you, fastening the fabric around the kimono he had bought you for the special occasion. He himself was adorned in a dark blue kimono, the white fabric of the jupan peeking out from underneath the neckline of his kimono. He was wearing a pair of traditional setta sandals, you had never seen him look so formal and old-fashioned in your life.

"People really still wear this stuff?" You asked, watching him tie the light pink fabric in a bow that would rest on your hipline. Toji kept his eyes on his hands, working carefully, "You're making it too obvious you're not from a sorcerer family." He said, looking up under his dark eyelashes at you once he finished prettying you up. He took a step back, keeping his hands on your waist as he smoothed his hands down the sides of your hips, admiring his handiwork. A whistle from his lips made you blush, smiling up at the older man.

"Beautiful." He said, stepping up to you once again he pressed you against his chest, gripping his hands on the small of your waist he leaned down and kissed you softly, humming against your lips before pulling away. "Thank you Toji." You said, making the scar on his lip bend as a smirk graced his handsome features. "The geezers you're about to meet don't take kindly to.. women, they're old fashioned so do your best to stay close to me, not that I plan to leave you alone with them." Toji shivered internally thinking about what they would do to a pretty thing like you if he let you alone, not that he didn't have full faith in your skills, he knew you were strong, but he also knew how strong his family was.

"I figured out the old-fashioned part by the clothes, I guess misogyny just comes with that territory." You said lightly, making him huff out a laugh. "Don't take their words too seriously, especially Naoya, he respects me so It's hard to know if he'll say anything, but he's notorious for having a big fucking mouth." You watched Toji's expression while he spoke, a vein popping out under the skin of his forehead. "Especially with the women. I don't know if there's a single maid he hasn't harassed in some way or another." He said, growing irritated at the thought of him trying something with his wife.

"I can take it." You said, the soft touch of your fingers tracing Toji's cheek snapping him out of his annoying daydream, bringing him back to reality, his eyes shutting as he sighed, leaning into your touch. "We're just there for me to introduce myself, then we never have to see them again, right?" You asked, smiling when he cracked open his eyes and nodded at you. "What's the worst that can happen in a couple hours?" You spoke reassuringly. "You don't know my family." He sighed, covering your hand with his, pressing it harder agaisnt his face. "I wish I didn't either." His animosity made you smirk, he was working himself up too much.

"How did they even find out we got married?" You asked, Toji's hand dropping from your own as he stepped away to grab his phone on the table behind him and call for a ride. "Who fucking knows, they're so creepy they probably know your blood type and the time you were born by now." He mumbled, holding his phone up to his ear as it rang, reaching one of the drivers for the Zenin clan. You came up behind him, running your hands up his back, relishing in the feeling of the soft fabric of his kimono, before reaching his shoulders and massaging his shoulder gently as he spoke curtly to the man on the other side of the phone.

—

The two of you stepped out of the car, Toji first, taking your hand in his as you slid out after him, thanking the driver before you interlaced your arm in his. You were greeted by a kind-looking maid, she looked to be about ten years older than Toji, she bowed when the two of you approached. "Right this way Zenin." She said, glancing at the two of you before she raised her tired body and started a trail into the main building of the Zenin house. Toji cringed at the use of his last name, you felt his bicep tense when she uttered the word. You looked up at him, watching the muscles in his jaw flex as he repeatedly clenched his teeth together.

"I should be the one nervous." You whispered, receiving a glance from your husband, the shadow of a smile gracing his lips before he averted his gaze back in front of him, his eyes darting around to the familiar walls of his miserable childhood. "Being here makes me feel sick is all." He said. You absorbed his words, nodding to yourself as you looked forward, watching the fabric of the older woman's kimono crinkle on her back as she walked.

Toji had told you about his childhood before, but only the once; it was a sore subject after all. You knew it was a very toxic and abusive environment to grow up in, especially for Toji, as he was one to form his own opinions and morals, not letting anyone other than himself influence that; which his family did not appreciate in the slightest. "Here you are, please enter at your own pace." The woman spoke, looking Toji directly in the eyes and squinting before she bowed and walked away, following the hallway back the way you had just come down, presumably to complete some mundane task.

"She knows you, huh?" You asked, squeezing your arm tightly against his as the two of you stood feet from the massive sliding wooden doors that separated you from the main room, where his family was currently residing; chatter and laughter could be heard muffled through the thick wood. "That old dinosaur." Toji laughed quietly. "She was in charge of my main academic classes, would smack my hands with a ruler when I got an answer wrong, shit hurt." He said, you watched him smile, recalling the memory.

"And you're smiling?" You said, tilting your head confused. "Old hag was the only one who actually looked out for me in this hell hole." He said, shaking away the memory before looking down at you. "You ready sweetheart?" Toji asked, staring into your eyes fondly. When you nodded he leaned forward, pressing his plush lips to the top of your head before pulling back and taking a step forward, slipping his fingers into the inverted door handle he slid the door open, the loud grating of the wood announcing your arrival.

Immediately all chatter in the room stopped and all eyes were on you, not Toji, you. The aura in the room was suffocating, only a couple seconds in the presence of these men, and you had understood why Toji was acting so uncomfortable. They were strong, incredibly so, you could feel it. A man with long dark shaggy hair leaned back on the couch, his legs spread as he caressed his chin looking you up and down. You felt shivers crawl down your spine from his perverted gaze alone; his aura wasn't as strong as the others.

Continuing your scan around the room, your eyes landed on a younger-looking man with blonde- almost green hair, a brown halo of hair around his head, he gave you an incredulous look, man spread on the couch much like the last man, he had his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze focused on your chest, thankfully covered by the Kimono; and yet you still felt so exposed under his gaze.

Some other unmemorable men were scattered in the room, an old man with a high ponytail, a teen with short spiky hair, and a handful of longer hair wrapped in bandages behind his neck. One man stood out from the rest though, in terms of the sheer cursed energy radiating off of him, making you shiver, every hair on your body standing at attention. A silver-haired man, twice Toji's age, sat on the floor on a fancy-looking pillow in the center of the room, a half-empty whiskey bottle in his hand, his lips dripping the liquid. The man burped vulgarly, making you suppress a wince at the shameless action.

As much as his face alone looked perfect for the bottom of your foot, you knew this was a man who was absolutely not to be messed with. You guessed this was Nobito, Toji's uncle. "Toji tightened his arm around yours, keeping his gaze in front of him as you looked up through your lashes at him; he could feel your anxiety and was trying to silently tell you he was right there. Nobito laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he raised to his feet, taking long strides toward you and your husband.

He stopped in front of you, ignoring Toji's presence completely. "Bagged a cute little woman, Toji." He laughed, looking at you when he spoke. You maintained composure, keeping eye contact with the wrinkled man in front of you, his breath reeked of alcohol. "Too bad she doesn't know her place." A voice interrupted. Toji's eyes looked to the voice, his face staying unexpressed, making eye contact with the source of the noise, Naoya. "Who does she think she is? Dumb woman doesn't know she should walk behind a man?" He said, scoffing, a look of disgust plastered on his face.

"When you get a wife, feel free to treat her however you like," Toji responded, deadpanning. "Insult my wife again, I'll cut out your tongue." Toji's deep asserting voice made you shiver, a heat creeping over your face at how he had defended you without a second thought. Naoya presented a toothy grin to Toji, a vein in his forehead popping out in annoyance. Suddenly it was too hard to breathe. "Now now, ten years of radio silence from you, and this is how you want our reunion to start?" Nobito tsked, keeping his face in front of yours but darting his eyes to meet Toji's.

"Nice to meet you, sir." You said, bowing respectfully, looking up at the old man under your lashes. He smiled, taking a couple steps back from you. "She's polite~" Another voice resounded through the room- the teen with the rat tail had spoken. "At least she can do something right," Naoya mumbled under his breath, the bitter words not being missed by Toji. You quickly reacted, squeezing your fingers into his arm to warn him not to do anything stupid. His nostrils flared on his otherwise blank face, his chest rising in a deep breath before leveling out again.

Nobito walked back to his seat and picked up the bottle of whiskey, grabbing a glass from the table in front of him he poured a generous amount before sitting and pushing the drink in your direction on the table. All their eyes were on the two of you, waiting for you to sit. Usually, you would sit down first, Toji making sure you were comfortable before sitting down next to you. In this setting, however, you weren't sure this was the best idea.

Unlacing your arm with his, you gestured towards the table with your hands before holding them in front of you, looking up at Toji. He paused, looking down at you before he started for the couch, you followed hot on his trail. Naoya smiled at this, not being able to shake the feeling that he had some influence on your actions. Toji held his hand out for you before you sat down. Placing your hand in his larger one, you sat next to him, your thighs touching with the proximity. He continued to hold your hand, placing tangled hands on your thigh as he gripped his over yours, enveloping it completely.

You pressed your knees together tightly, not wanting to reveal even a centimeter of your skin to the men around you if you could help it. Toji picked up the glass in front of him, bringing the caramel-colored liquid up to his lips before he was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist. The shaggy-haired man had grabbed Toji, tsking, "Thats for your pretty little wife." He smiled maliciously, Nobito grinned, watching the interaction. "She doesn't drink." Toji was quick to retort, pushing though the grip on his wrist he tipped the glass into his lips, tasting the bitter liquid on his tongue before swallowing.

"You keepin' her pure?" Naoya's grating voice once again spoke. Toji was right, the man constantly had something to say, and none of it was good. "She even old enough to drink? Fuck, did you snatch up a young one?" He laughed, the sound making you cringe. "I can drink, I just choose not to." You responded, making the blonde-haired man's smile immediately flush off of his face as his gaze dropped to yours. "Why is your wife speaking right now?" He asked, the question directed at Toji, but his eyes were on yours.

"Only speak when you're being spoken to, and even then, make sure what you have to say is meaningful," Naoya instructed. You looked visibly taken aback. Oh he wanted to die huh?Toji thought, the vein in his forehead showing itself from under the skin. He swore he was going to come back here and strangle the man to death in his sleep, and he would enjoy every last second of it. Who the fuck was he to speak to you like that?

“I don’t tell her what to do, and you sure as hell won’t as long as I live either.” Toji growled, his grip tightening against your thigh. "Naoya." Another voice cut in before things could escalate. The man with the ponytail prevented Naoya from digging his grave deeper. Toji's eyes were glued to his younger cousins, his heartbeat racing in his chest as he tried to calm himself down.

You had no idea how much self-restraint Toji really had. Whenever a man even looked in your general direction you had to physically pull him back on his metaphorical leash so he didn't kill him on the street. He took a large gulp of the liquid once more, he couldn't tell if the bitterness was easing the angst he was feeling or increasing it. Naoya lost the glaring battle with Toji, scoffing as he looked away. "How old are you, Naoya?" Toji spoke, holding the glass of half-empty liquor on his thigh, spreading his legs. "Twenty-six." He replied.

Toji laughed curtly, raising his eyebrows before he released your hand and wrapped his arm around the back of the couch. "Don't you think It's time you find a wife? Or you been havin' some trouble findin' a woman who you don't have to beat to act like your dog?" Toji spat, making the younger man fume across the room. A snicker could be heard from the teenager to your left. You had to fight back your own smile, you're pretty sure you would get smacked upside the head by Naoya himself if you did.

“How did the two of you meet, dollface?” The man with the dark shaggy hair questioned you. Toji could obviously see you looked visibly uncomfortable at the nickname the man had used, squirming in your seat before your opened your mouth to speak, “Me and Dollface met through a mutual friend.” Toji interrupted, making the weight on your shoulders lift and dissipate into the air.

“Your friend know anymore cute young things like your wife here?” The man spoke again, directing his question to Toji but looking at the expanse of your covered body, they all did that and you hated it. “None that would be interested in an old pervert like you.” Toji responded, trying his best to laugh through the situation so his fist didn’t end up through someone’s stomach by the end of this.

"So, do you come from a sorcerer family?" Nobito interjected, taking a swig from the whiskey bottle. The questions never seemed to stop coming from every direction in the room. "No sir, I'm the only sorcerer in my family." You responded a couple chuckles could be heard throughout the room at your response. Naoya almost burst a blood vessel keeping what he really wanted to say at bay. Sure, you had a nice figure, and a pretty little face to match—but you were arrogant and had too much of your own personality. Naoya had an an inkling your relationship wasn’t as traditional as you were playing it out to be.

Toji deserved to be with someone who listened to him, who didn’t speak out of turn, who could actually walk behind a man. You must’ve been good in bed for Toji to have put a ring on your finger with all those flaws, he presumed.

"She's a first-grade sorcerer before you open your pathetic mouths again." Toji defended. You pressed your thighs together. He was so stoic and serious, it aroused you to no end, and the way he wasn't afraid to show you off, fuck it was doing things to you. Some “Ooh’s~” echoed through the room.

"Pretty and useful." The old man with the ponytail spoke. You averted your gaze to some corner of the room when you saw some nods throughout the room. "She cooks and cleans too?" Someone teased, creating more chuckles to emanate throughout the room. Toji clenched his jaw in annoyance. If his family knew that he did most of the cooking, he was sure at least 5 of them would have an aneurysm in this very room. At least he could be left alone without fear of starvation while he doubted these grown men knew how to cook something as simple as rice.

"When are you having a child? She doesn't look pregnant now." Naoya blurted out confused, his words indicating that the only thing a wife was good for was having children. You couldn't help but feel too aware of your own body at his words, realizing you could actually be perceived, and were actively being so in this moment. You kept quiet, looking up at Toji, waiting for his answer to come. Truthfully, you wanted kids with him at some point, but you were still so young. The two of you had talked about it briefly, at decided you would revisit the topic in a few years.

Toji brought his hand to wrap around the back of your shoulders, rubbing the skin there before he spoke. "She's too young to have kids now, maybe a few years," Toji answered curtly. Naoya looked flabbergasted, leaning forward on his elbows he spoke exasperatedly, "What? Nonsense, there's no such thing as too young to have kids-" barf. "Her eggs are going to be dried up in a couple years." His lackluster knowledge of a woman's body amused you, once again suppressing a laugh as you pretended to scratch the tip of your nose, hiding your mouth from view.

Toji picked up on your amusement, smiling before he spoke. "What would you know about a woman's body?" He challenged, sliding his hand across your shoulders to drop back down to your thigh, squeezing the fat through the fabric, making you feel a heat between your thighs. Naoya's lip curled up in annoyance, keeping his eyes on Toji's. "Let's take a break, yeah?" Nobito spoke, his voice coming out slurred. "We have a room for the two of you, dinner will be ready soon, we can catch and learn more about your little wife more then, hm?" he said, the words phrased as a suggestion but you knew it wasn't that.

"After you baby," Toji said, nodding his head at you. You smoothed your hands over your thighs as you stood, standing, you bowed before the men as Toji stood with you. "Nice to meet.. most of you." You said, licking your lips to conceal your grin as you started for the door. Toji smirked, making eye contact with Naoya's obviously irritated face before he wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand resting right above your ass as he let you out of the room, sliding the door shut behind the two of you.

"Well, that sure went!" you said, looking up at him and smiling through a cringe, making him laugh at your unfinished sentence, he knew exactly what you meant. "What you said at the end got me all worked up," Toji said, grabbing a handful of your ass as he started walking toward his old bedroom. "Huh?" You asked, confused. "No one talks back to that shitty guy, shoulda seen his face when you said that shit." Toji laughed. You caught on, realizing he was referring to your indirect jab at the blond-haired man before you left.

"Didn't realize bullying your family was one of your kinks." You teased, stopping in front of the doorway when Toji slid the door to his room open, holding his arm out atop the frame for you to go under. "You kiddin? Think it's higher up than my love for titty-fucking'" Toji teased, grabbing your hips as he followed you into the room. He shut the door with one hand behind him, before pulling you against his chest and pressing his lips to yours. "Sorry about those fuckin' assholes." Toji apologized, kissing the corner of your eye.

"It's not you who should be apologizing." You giggled, holding his face in your hands. "Plus, the way you were standing me up for me in there got me all wet." You leaned and whispered against his lips. "Yeah?" His deep voice whispered back, his breath tickling your lips as he hovered his mouth an arm hairs length away from yours. "Wanna see for yourself?" You asked, dropping one of your hands from his face to grab his wrist and bring it between the slit of your Kimono, under the jupan, so his large fingers were directly touching your damp panties. “Wanna hear how loud you can be for me, show these old fucks how good you take my dick.” Toji whispered, finally closing the distance and pressing your lips together.

—

In the other room, the men had not yet dispersed. Talking amongst themselves, they still collectively hung around in the main room. "She's a bold woman I'll give her that." The old man with the ponytail spoke with his arms crossed over his chest. Naoya fumed in his seat, his nose crinkling in disgust as he replayed your words over in his head. "Nice to meet... some of you." the fucking audacity. He was the heir to the Zenin clan, did you not know that? Talking to him like he's some trash, dumb woman.

"The only thing good about that noisy woman is her ass, what the hell does Toji see in her?" Naoya spoke, making Nobito laugh as he took another swig from the whiskey bottle, holding it by the neck. "She has a nice face, and she's undoubtedly strong if even Toji was willing to praise her like that in front of Nobito." The teen said, shrugging his shoulders. Naoya tsked, crossing his arms over one another, staring at some corner of the room angrily.

The locker room talk about your body and other discussions about you and Toji continued for a couple minutes before their talk was interrupted by a loud sound shrieking through the walls. The men raised their eyebrows, stopping all conversation as they waited to hear the sound again. "Agh!!" There it was again, the loud sound being muffled by the walls that separated them from the source. "The hell is that?" Naoya spoke first, his voice cutting into the otherwise silent room.

"Shh." Nobito hushed, setting the bottle down he scanned his eyes around the walls, waiting to see where the sound was coming from. "Ah-ah-ah!" He tilted his ear towards the direction of the sound when the moans came more steadily, his head tipping in the direction of where you and Toji were staying. Naoya was growing frustrated, already annoyed that his dad had hushed him in front of everyone. "Toji- Fuck-" That was all they needed to hear. Nobito let out a hearty laugh, as he raised to his feet, whiskey bottle in hand as he started for the sliding door that would take him to the garden.

Naoya's face was plastered with a blush, did you just-? "Fucking under Nobito's roof after being absent for a decade, heh~" The shaggy-haired man laughed. "He's marking his territory, bastard," Nobito spoke before sliding the door shut behind him, lounging on the edge of the deck. He thought you were eye candy, sure, but he didn't want to hear his nephew fucking his wife in front of him, he would rather be the one doing the fucking.

Toji's growls could be heard through the walls as he fucked into you, the sound of an old bed creaking through the walls was not missed by Naoya's ears. "Even her voice is cute." One of the men spoke. Naoya couldn't take this torture anymore, with his face completely flushed, he rose to his feet, walking quickly out of the room. "It's disgusting." Naoya spit, sliding the big wooden door loudly behind him.

Some maids were in the hallway gossiping when he exited. Giggling and covering their faces as they listened to Toji absolutely ruin your shit. His face burning hot as he leaned against the door, he glanced up at the women, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get back to work." Naoya hissed, the woman immediately dispursing to finish their chores. He sighed when they were out of sight, finally looking down at his Kimono, he noticed a tent had formed at his crotch, he looked at it in disgust, scrunching his face up as he made quick work to his room, which coincidentally neighbored Toji's.

"You like that baby? Like when I fuck your tight little cunt like this? Toji groaned, gripping your hips as he brought your ass back to meet his thrusts, fucking his cock into your g-spot with pinpoint precision. "Y-yes Toji- Love it- love it so much!" You groaned. He had you face down, ass up, and his hips were being so fucking mean. Mercilessly he pulled his cock almost completely out, before bulling the entirety of his girth into your tight pussy, loud squelches filling the room at how wet you were.

"Yeah you do, take my cock-" thrust "so" thrust "fucking" thrust "well-!" He grit through his teeth, his hips colliding with your ass and making the fat ripple. He had only pushed your kimono up, revealing your pussy to him, he himself had only pulled his cock out through the slit, making it easier for him to get inside you faster after he briefly stretched you out on his fingers. "You're so pretty baby, fuck- such a good fucking wife-" He groaned, making a point to say that last part extra loud.

He didn't feel like he had anything to prove to his family, he knew how good you were to him, and how in love the two of you were. He just wanted to make them jealous, they were all old, ugly, and wifeless or had shells of women on their arms after all. He saw how they looked at you, how they tried to look through your Kimono and get even a sliver of skin to feast their eyes upon. He wanted them to know they would never, in a million years, get the chance, so here he was, fucking his lively young wife, bubbly and full of personality, in their prison of a home.

"Wanna ride me, baby? Let em' hear how good you fuck me?" He asked, not letting up his assault on your pussy. You drooled and whined into the sheets, gripping your nails into the expensive cloth as your body jerked and slid across the sheets from his manhandling. Riding Toji was a rare feat, it got him so worked up. The angle at which your pussy sucked in his cock, how deep he got, always made him relinquish control unconsciously, which is why it was so rare he let you ride him.

You nodded into the sheets, your words getting slurred together when you mumbled out "yesyesyes" while he fucked you. Toji laughed, pulling out his cock he continued to jerk it slowly, spreading your juiced all over him before he plopped on the bed next to you, holding your outer hip to pull you towards him as he got comfortable against the sheets. With shaky legs, you slung them over Toji's hips, watching him still jerk his cock in his large hand as you situated your pussy to hover right over his fat tip.

"Sit down baby, fuck me." He said the smile your husband had on his face being controlled by lust and love together. His eyes immediately rolled to the back of his head when you sat down on his cock, his abs clenching and legs twitching as you eased his length into you. "Fuuuuck, that's good~" He groned, tipping his head back into the pillows as your pussy swallowed up his cock to the hilt. He could feel every bump and ridge of your cock, your warmth, how fucking tight you were in this position--he already felt himself going dumb.

"Fuck me baby, bounce on my fucking cock-" Toji begged, his hands coming to grip your hips and aid you the best he could in lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down on it. "God~ Toji, you're f-filling me up!" You whined, starting a quick pace on him, pressing your hands against his pecs for stability as you gound your clit against his pelvis every time his cock bottomed out inside you. Toji had his eyebrows scrunched together, his jaw dropped open as he moaned freely into the room, his moans overshadowing yours.

"Y-yeah? Feel my b-big cock fuckin' up 'ur guts?" Toji laughed through a deep whine, trying to watch his length disappear into your pussy when you sat down on it, but he was having a hard time keeping his eyes forward in their sockets. "Yes, Toji- fuck!" You cried out when one of his hands came down to rub his thumb against your clit. The added stimulation made you ride him harder as you chased your orgasm. He loved touching your clit not only because it made you feel good and he loved seeing your reactions to it, but also because your pussy tightened up like it was trying to constrict his cock when he did so.

His body jerked forward every time his dick slid inside you, his deep voice laughing through his arousal when you stopped your bouncing and instead ground against him. The movements made his cock rub against your sweet spot deep inside you. He watched your head tip back as your nails dug into his chest at how good you were feeling. "Choke me baby, cmon~" Toji begged quietly into the air, needing to feel your smaller hand squeeze around his neck when you came.

One of your hands slid up the expanse of his chest, traveling over the fabric of the Kimono as you splayed your fingers out along his neck, giving him a squeeze. The smirk on his face grew tenfold, a dopey grin spreading across his features. "Yesyesyes baby- yesss-" His words were slurred, his eyes rolling back every time his cock was forced against your walls from your incessant humping along his pelvis.

"Baby I'm gonna cum-" You spoke breathlessly, squeezing your hand tighter around his throat as you were brought closer and closer to your high. Toji was getting dizzy, not just from you choking him out, but from watching you shut your eyes and hump yourself on his dick, getting yourself off on him like he was some sex toy--and he fucking loved it. "Yeah- use me baby, use me, cum all over my dick baby please~" He groaned, his jaw falling open and closed like a fish out of water, his eyebrows scrunching shut as he watched your orgasm crash over you.

Your hand around his neck loosened when you came, your orgasm wracking through your body as you jerked and twitched on top of him, your hips losing their rhythm. That was Toji's sign to take over. He abandoned his thumb on your clit and brought his hand back up to join the other in grabbing your waist. He planted his feet on the bed and started pistoning his hips against your ass like a madman. He fucked you through your orgasm and into overstimulation as he brought himself to his own high.

He watched you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyebrows together, pushing through the painful pleasure. "Almost there baby- doin' so good letting me use you like this- fuck-" He praised, shaking his head agaisnt the sheets as he watched your body bounce limply on top of him. Toji was too fucked out to announce before he came, but you knew. His hips lost their rhythm, his voice got higher and higher in pitch before he stilled his hips against your ass.

He groaned hard as he felt the first ropes of his cum shoot inside your pussy. He shot his body up and wrapped his arms around your torso, hiding his face in your neck as he bit down hard against the skin there, letting your cunt milk his balls as his hips stuttered agaisnt you, his cock releasing all of his seed as deep as he could into you. "Fuuuck-" He groaned against your skin when he started coming down from his high.

You pulled your head back, grabbing his face between your hands you pressed your lips to his, breathing heavily against his lips as the two of you kissed passionately. You pulled away, smiling at his flushed face, "Probably sounded like we just made a baby." you giggled, wiping the sweaty strands of his hair from his forehead. "If they ever find out I got a vasectomy, they might have a heart attack," Toji smirked, making you giggle as he peppered kisses on your face. "So maybe we should." He added, dropping his kisses to your neck as the two of you embraced each other, his softening cock still snug in your walls.

In the room over, a fuming Naoya sat on the edge of his bed, his jerking slowing over his softening cock, covered in his own cum as he tried to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Fucking... bitch.." He whispered into the room, covering his ashamed face with the back of his arm as he flopped back agaisnt his sheets.

—

The two of you spent another hour cleaning up and enjoying each other's company as you sat outside of Toji's room, your back against the wall of the sliding glass door, Toji sitting in front of you, your clothed feet in his hands as he massaged them softly, listening to you speak. "You ready to leave, princess?" He asked when the conversation died down. You sighed, "I wish your family weren't such assholes, food always tastes better when it's free." Your husband gigged as you retracted your legs, pulling on your sandals as the two of you stood to your feet.

"I'll take you out tonight, you look so pretty in this after all, it would be a waste to not enjoy you out like this," Toji said, walking up to you and holding your waist in his hands as he gave you a one-over. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips before the two of you made your way back inside to say your goodbyes to the men of the household.

Entering the same room you met them all in before, they were all in their respective places, even Naoya. They all looked over at the two of you as the doorway slid open, Toji's hand on your waist. "We won't be staying for dinner, it's been awful, as always," Toji smirked, looking around the room but spending a little extra time on Nobito and Naoya. You smiled in faux politeness, the bright red bite mark on your next standing out like a sore thumb when you tipped your head to the side. "You think you can just use my home as some sex hotel, and leave?" Nobito asked incredulously, raising en eyebrow at Toji before taking a large swig of the alcohol. You silently prayed he would die in this moment of alcohol poisoning.

Naoya's face was bright red as he stared at the pair of you in disgust, his observant eyes picking up the bruises across Toji's neck from you stranging him in bed. "Watch us." You replied, which made a proud Toji Zenin look down at you and smile. The two of you backed up and shut the door behind you, leaving quickly without another word.

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signedkoko · 3 months

Note

Could I get a Mammon, Vox and Husk with a S/O who gets harassed on the street and their reaction? You can have full creative control over what type of harassment!

I love your fics- if this isn’t getting the creative juices flowing just let me know and I’ll request something different <3

🦷 anon

Husk | Mammon | Vox [Romantic]

In which some loathsome idiot thinks they'll get away with harassing their beloved s/o.

One of your favourite date nights is spent bar hopping

Pop a drink or two in each one, sometimes sharing one cocktail, his wing draped around you, your head leant on his shoulder, humming to the music surrounding you

Both of you had a preference for the less popular spots, the kinds of places you got the weirdest combinations, where he could be inspired and you could give him thoughts

The plus side of the smaller joints was that the music was never too loud, drinks were cheaper, and there was always a few spots free at the bar

Downside was that most places had their regulars, the kind of people who couldn't get in anywhere else

The kind of desperation that builds and spreads like mold in the corner of a dark room next to a leaky pipe

On a few occasions, someone would harmlessly ask to buy you a drink and would turn tail when Husk gave them his usually 'fuck off' look

But this time, the guy would just not get the hint

" What? Already claimed dibs on the bitch? "

Yeah- no, that attitude towards you is not going to fly

Not even three seconds and there's a bottle smashed on the drunk demons head, and three cards flying back into Husk's hand

That's when the bleeding starts

You slap a 20 down for your bill and jump straight up, already being dragged by Husk out the door

Insists if he stayed there you would have both gotten banned anyways, and he likes that spot

You guys don't really go out so casually without a good reason, or just for old times sake

A sin and his spouse on a city street in greed was just asking for bad things to happen

But still, if you asked and he had nothing that day, Mammon would always rather get quality time with you and people watch

Thats most of your conversation, pointing out demons and joking about what you think they are like, what the do, how they speak

It's always a fun game, until some newcomer saw you laughing at him and marched right up, clearly on something and clearly ready to have a go at someone

The moment he reaches for your wrist, his thumb falls to the floor, a messy and jagged cut the only sign of attack besides one of Mammons spider legs now revealed

Before he can even realize the pain or what's happened, Mammon lets out a menacing laugh

" Every extra inch towards my broad is another finger. "

That demon was already screaming and running away, most the crowd on the street that was watching now hurrying in any direction opposite of you and Mammon

" I'm only worth one finger? "

" Nah. Just being generous for once. "

Not really a street guy, but unfortunately some press conferences and events require mingling and interacting with others, which he never liked

Thankfully, with you he has an excuse to stay away from others, or show you off

He usually goes for the latter

He's all 'Have you met my wife?' 'My wife loves x and y!' 'Isn't my wife absolutely gorgeous?'

You are the first topic he speaks of after his company; you'd be the first if he didn't have to waste so much time being a salesman, but that is how the cookie crumbles

Sometimes when there's specific press releases, he has to send you off for a moment, where you usually go and mingle with some of the others in his industry you befriended

During one such interview, he couldn't help but spot out the corner of his eye, some lousy business woman drape her arm around your waist and grab at your hip

" Sorry yeah, this interview is over. "

Literally shoves his way over, sparks and electricity flying, to rip you out of her arms

" Baaabe, is this a friend? Whatever the case, we really gotta get going! "

Jealousy 3000

He's glad he stepped in after he overhears that lady had a habit of harassing other attendees

New clause in every interview; they have to include you or provide security over you while he is busy

Author's Note - Tooth anon comes in for another PIPIN HOT request!! I actually feel so bad because every time I take a break form writing is on yoru request and that really makes it look bad I am so sorry 😩

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #mammon #mammon x reader #vox #vox x reader #husk #husk x reader

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nexusnyx · 1 year

Text

miss sunshine

pre-outbreak Joel Miller x neighbor!reader [7.3k] summary: He's always been out of reach. A fantasy. Joel was too much of everything—too handsome, too friendly, too una-fucking-vailable for any of you. Too bad his kid adores you. (What a blessing.) Too bad she uses you as a scapegoat and lands him right on his door. One bottle of wine, and Joel shows you he might be closer than you thought. 📝 I wanted to try something different. Less hurt, less end-of-the-world bullshit. Let me know your thoughts. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. ⚠️Smut. Minors, DNI. Explicit depictions of sex, oral (f and m receiving), riding, missionary, passionate neighbors sex, yay.

read on ao3 | masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Summer of 2002.

When the bell rings, you think it's best to ignore it.

Living alone equals a lot of privileges, but the ability to go out alone and answer the door on a random Wednesday evening was not one of them. You're wearing compromising clothes and a robe, the bottle of wine you craved was finally open, and the last thing you wanted was to be murdered before enjoying it.

Then, you hear it. Your name, followed by, "It's Miller. Joel."

Fuck.

Well—this is exactly how many of your dreams started. Although this wouldn't go like them, for him, you'd open the door.

His eyes do little to hide the once-over when the door slides open.

They go down, then back up, and he seems to catch on to the fact that you saw it. Then, he shakes his head just a little, and says, "Is Sarah here?"

Well, well, well. You lean against the door. "Did she say she was?"

Joel pierces you with his Dad Look. "Yes." Obviously, it goes without saying.

What other reason would he have, right? Clearing your throat, you feel the anxiety bubbling underneath the surface. "Uhm. She isn't," you look apologetic as you say it. As if it's your fault his prepubescent daughter uses you as a scapegoat.

His sigh is enough to make you feel how tired he is. Overworked. Exhausted.

You try to understand what might've happened before he loses his mind, "What time d'you usually come back from work? Maybe she's at a friend's. She probably thought you'd be back later than this."

He finishes rubbing both palms all over his face, and he threads one hand through his hair. "I'm usually back at nine—well, I'm supposed to be back at nine. I'm usually home by ten." That checks out, then. "But—that doesn't explain why she lied to me."

"Any special occasions coming up soon?"

Joel frowns. "Uhm. My birthday's in a few days, but—"

"Ahhhh." It shuts his mouth, the way you exclaim it so clearly. "She's brainstorming, Joel."

"Brainstorming...?"

"A gift." No daughter had easy access to what made their fathers happy. You take pity on him. "C'mon—let me scare the little one."

You walk inside without waiting for his reply, knowing Joel will make his way in. "What d'you mean, scare her?"

The noise of his boots hitting the floor makes you happy.

You take the phone out of the wall and look at him. "She always keeps that cellular phone with her when she goes out?"

"Always," he nods.

"Perfect." You know it by heart already. As you dial, you feel Joel's eyes on your house. It's the first he's ever been inside, and it makes you hyperaware of every movement of his. "It's ringing," you inform him with a grin forming.

He looks confused. More tired than anything else, but it'll make sense in a second.

"Hey, miss Sunshine!" the nickname she gave you always brings a smile to your face.

Time to put on a show. Feigning panic in your voice, you yell-whisper on the phone, "S, love, would you mind telling me why on Earth is your pops—" you fake cover your end of the line to yell, "one minute!" then you're back at whispering again, "why is he parked outside my house right now? Is there something I should know?"

"Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit—"

You're glad he can't hear her end of it. "No time for panic. Explain."

"I am so sorry, Sunny! I thought he'd be back in like, two hours or something. Oh, god, can you please cover for me? I wrote a note saying I was at your place. Sleeping there. I was gonna call you before he came back home but Jenny and I—"

"You're at somebody named Jenny?" you repeat the information, looking at Joel with a question in your eyes, and when he nods, your heart soothes at knowing she's safe. "And you didn't think to mention your brilliant idea earlier?" going for the full effect again, you yell out, "One minute, Joel!"

At least she's fast in her rambles. "Yeah, yeah. My best friend. She's trying to help me come up with a surprise for him. I'm not there often and it's never on his birthday. I wanna make it special."

"Okay. Cool. Next time, fill me in as you make the plans."

"I will, I promise. Pinky promise. You think you can convince him I'm sleeping there?" the plea in her voice is adorable.

You chuckle. "I've got you, S." Joel sighs in relief in front of you. "Just one thing."

"Yeah?"

"Be back here tomorrow first thing in the morning. 7:30 sharp. I'm gonna invite your dad for breakfast, as punishment for your lack of planning, and you'll be the one making us the pancakes," before she can even answer, you go, "Toodles!" and hang up.

When you put your phone back at the base, you turn around with a proud smile.

Joel's looking at you funny. "You're good at that," he says.

"At what? Acting?" you laugh when nods. "I was a trouble child. I'm great at lying."

"Aren't those the same?"

"Eh. A thin line separates them." You can sense his awkwardness creeping up, so you do your best to think on the spot. "Is she one to escape?"

"Not really, no." He's shuffling on his feet, uncertain of what to do in your home. "She's never done this before."

"From what she told me, she's never around for your birthday."

"That's true."

"She wants to make a surprise for you," you inform. It puts that smile on his face that makes your knees a little weak. "And now she has to be back here at seven in the morning. All is well."

He laughs. "Yeah, I guess so."

He's gonna see himself out. You swallow all the nervousness that being in his presence creates and just... goes for it. "Is it hard? Having a kid?"

That relaxes some of the tension in his shoulders. He leans on the counter of your kitchen and shakes his head. "Not really. It's a lot of work, but it's not hard. It's rewarding."

I wish my mother felt the same. You smile at the truth in his words. "I can see it's hard work." He laughs again. "Well—I had just opened that before you rang the bell," you point at the Pinot on top of the counter. "Want a glass? Unless you tell me you're 'only beer' kind of guy, then I can't help ya."

Joel looks between you and the bottle a couple of times, then looks down at himself. "I'm uh—I'm all greasy and gross from work. You sure that's the company you want for wine?"

Rolling your eyes, you walk towards your glasses cabinets. "If I told you that you can go home and shower, you'd never come back."

"And that'd be a bad thing?"

"Sure it would. You're the only person in this entire street that hasn't interrogated me on my life so far, I feel left out. Offended, even," you add with a dramatic twist. Your robe flows around you, and you can't help but smile when you see his eyes following you.

It's the way he swallows visibly, almost audibly, that plants a seed of maybe inside your head. "I'm not usually one to pry."

You place both glasses on the counter. "Neither am I."

"I know. It's why I like ya," Joel says it with eyes on the glasses instead of you. "That and the way you talk to the plants."

Your hand on the corkscrew stops, and you want to slam your forehead against the wood. "Oh, god."

His laughter is so nice. "Nah, don't be embarrassed. 's why I gave you your nickname."

"Don't be embarrassed? That's mortifying, Joel. I thought no one—wait." Had you heard him right? "What d'you mean you gave me my nickname?"

Joel's head tilts, and he's definitely a charmer kind of guy. If you do have a chance, you might be fucked. "Your nickname."

"Miss Sunshine?" He nods. "I thought that was Sarah."

"No, Sarah used it first in front of you," he pulls one of the glasses closer to him. "I said it first."

Well... that made it just as special but in a different way. You pour the wine into both glasses. "Good to know. I was under the impression she was the creative genius in the household—I just. Quick question that I never asked her: Why?"

"'Cause every mornin' before I left for work you're there on that big window," he points at the glass window that's occupies ceiling to floor, the very reason you picked this house, "talking to your plants as if you're the sun itself waking them up. 's cute."

Cute. You hate how he has the ability to make you blush. What is this, fucking high school?

"That makes sense."

Joel wipes his palms on the side of his t-shirt and then looks up at you. "If I go home with the promise of comin' back, will you let me shower?"

Let me. You're thankful your arms are covered because you're unsure of what this man is capable of when he knows the effect he has on somebody.

"I'll let you," you answer.

Joel nods and his smile is so genuine that you wonder why you never tried before.

"'kay," he takes one sip of the wine, hums in approval, and then takes a deep breath. "'m gonna go. I'll be back to interrogate you."

"I'll leave the door open."

"No—Jesus bloody Christ, are you and Sarah mad? Lock the door, Sunshine." You like it so much when he's the one that says it. "I'm serious."

"Alright, jeez," you laugh.

It's less tense than you imagined as he puts his shoes back on and walks out of your door. Joel crosses the street with a little wave in your direction, and all you can think is—what on Earth am I gonna do to him?

When he's back, Joel smells so good it's intoxicating.

It makes your brain melt.

Minty and fresh. That's what his stuff smells like, and you know the idea of that scent's now painted on the walls of your brain.

He does that stupid little dad pose, widening both arms and lifting them up in a display of 'what do you think' before walking in.

It makes you want to push him against the wall, but you do your best at behaving.

For now.

"Brand new man?" you ask.

He points at his glass of wine, untouched since the moment he left. "Will be in a sec."

You wait for him to take a sip before extending him what you held in your hand before he arrived.

Joel eyed the cigarette and, thank fuck, there was none of the annoying judgment sometimes people carried. He stops his movement to sit on the stool and asks, "You smoke in here, or are we goin' outside?"

"There's a table there. Weather's nice. D'you mind?"

Joel grabs his glass, shaking his head. "Not at all, ma'am. Lead the way."

"Ma'am," you echo him, sounding disgusted. He laughs behind you, "Who am I, Mrs. Adler?"

Still laughing, Joel answers, "Nah. Too talkative for that."

You turn around with your mouth hanging open, trying very little to look offended. "I beg your pardon. We never spoke for longer than, what, five minutes?"

Joel shrugs his shoulders. His smile is as intoxicating as his presence. "I hear things."

"You hear things?" you ask, pushing open the door that leads outside.

"I do," he sips his wine, looking to the small terrace where your little table is. "My daughter's a gossiper, little Sunshine. I think y'should know that."

Little Sunshine. Goddamn this man.

"Should I be scared, here? I haven't even told her anything, but I feel like I should be."

"If you didn't tell her anythin', than why would you be?"

"Because!" you laugh, feeling just a little out of your depth with his smoothness. You expected more closeness from Joel. Less teasing, easy banter. "You're talking like someone who knows a lot, that's all."

"And I do," he says, sounding every bit as serious.

You sit down on one of the chairs — your chair, precisely — and watch as Joel walks around a little, taking in the environment. He adds, "Did ya know," pausing for a dramatic effect, he sips again, "that in all of three months, you became one of my daughters' favorite people?"

He pins you under his gaze.

You cross your legs, and watch happily as his gaze drops to the motion.

"Did I?" if you sip at his pace, you'll be throwing yourself on his lap in an embarrassing amount of time.

Joel nods behind his cup, touching one of the many plants that cover your backyard area from floor, to walls, to ceiling. "You did," he smiles, dropping the fake seriousness. "Are you ready to deal with the six months absence? 'Cause from personal experience," he points both hands at his chest, "you try convincing yourself you won't miss her all that much 'cause, y'know, it's "just" a girl, but—fuck," he spits the last word, smiling widening around the fact. "She's so cool to have around. You'll see. Your phone's bill's about to create life."

It grounds you.

The way Joel speaks of Sarah makes you feel comfortable sitting here, and any doubts you had are sucked by the green life around you and returned as oxygen.

Joel talks about anything, no reservations.

In his absence, you doubted whether this could be any different than most times.

Would Joel be like that—like any of those other guys?

He wasn't.

Joel, as much as you hated to admit it, was an exception.

Maybe these things were fated. Simple chemistry. Similar mindsets. Whatever it was—you had it every once in a blue moon.

Your expectations settings were long ago molded to expect the least, and it takes only half a bottle of wine for you to notice the need to rear it in.

He's so damn easy. Joel goes from one topic to another like he's interested. He answers your questions with full interest, sometimes going on tangent stories, and he's the one who keeps the glasses filled.

Attentive, you take note the second time that happens. Before any of the glasses got empty, he served you both.

He compliments your taste in music and sounds genuine about it.

The weird silences you most dreaded never happen—if he's not answering you, Joel asks things. Interesting things, unlike any other neighbor.

"Was it you who decorated your place inside? 'Cause, there are very specific things in there. And you seem like the type to know what you like."

Joel was very attentive.

He asked, "and is this what you like to do with your free time?" pointing at the books you put away when you both arrived, "Drink wine, read, talk to your plants?"

"I still can't believe you've seen me doing that."

He laughed at that. "It's a pretty big window, Sunshine. Jesus Christ—you don't lock the door, you don't know people can see through your gigantic-ass window—I'm genuinely starin' to get worried here."

"Okay, first of all, I do lock my door."

"Do you?"

"'Course. Most days."

"Oh my—"

"—and! Now that I was reminded of my window's size, I'll consider buying drapes. Long, white ones. That'd be cool."

It was easy.

Talking to Joel—sharing a table with him, a glass of wine—so easy.

He never looked uncomfortable. Even if he moved a lot, Joel looked good—so damn good you lost focus every now and then—, but good with himself.

In his skin.

That was intoxicating.

When he does more than just talk and asks things; it's almost too damn easy. Was time supposed to go this way?

The first bottle end, but it's too soon.

You know it. He knows it—plays with it, in fact. Waves the empty bottle after pouring it for you and him in the air very lightly then places it on the floor.

Offering another one is almost a visceral reaction.

You don't have the same finesse he does, or at least, you think not, but if his smiles and closing proximity are anything to go by, he's enjoying himself as much as you are. "I dance around opening these a lot," you say pointing at the empty bottle. Pulling your legs closer to yourself despite the voice of your mother telling you that's a body language sign of insecurity—fuck insecurity. "Don't wanna be the wine lady on top of the plant one. But they're good. I like it."

"I only drink wine when my brother cooks," he offers.

The glass in your hands makes you feel safe enough to land this conversation where you want it. "Really? He cooks a lot?"

"More than me," Joel confesses with a shrug. "He likes to match the wine to the dish and that type o' stuff."

"I was taught how to be picky, but if I'm being honest—" you like the way Joel leans in closer when you pause it. You smile, "it's all just grapes tastin' really, really good." The sound of his damn laugh. This man's gotta have a flaw, you think. "As long as it's wine, I'm happy."

"I think that about a good beer after a day of work."

"We're all just trying to give ourselves little positive reinforcements for playing nice at doing our jobs, huh?"

Joel pauses at that. Lifts his eyebrows, then bursts out laughing. "Oh, wow—"

"Oh god", while it took you a lot of alcohol to get drunk, being open-mouthed about weird things came with the territory of feeling comfortable.

Joel made you comfortable, even if you were mortified at how amused he was.

When he's done laughing, he looks at you. "That's cute. You're the philosophical type."

"Isn't everybody who enjoys wine?"

"I don't know. I enjoy wine and I'm not one to go that far, I think."

"Hmm. Philosophizing can involve different topics. Lenses."

Joel wolf whistles. "Well, I think I'd need a couple more glasses to unlock that side of me."

"Not a problem," you get up, and resist the urge to wink at him. "I'll be back."

Your reflection in the kitchen mirrors is the confirmation of how fucked exactly you are.

It's more than just the color on your cheeks—it's the glassy screen over your eyes, making it shine like...

Well, very few times.

Fuck, you think.

Maybe that's why your palms are sweating.

He's more than you bargained for—Joel's looks were hard to move on from, but this?

Once in Rome...

Fuck it.

It's not as if either one of you was blinded to what a moonlight late-night conversation leads to.

The air outside could be felt.

When you're going back with the opened bottle, another pin drops in your mind.

He has the whole night free.

You don't break the bottle, but it's a close call.

Joel asks you the second you're back, "I have a depressing confession to make—I was tryin' to keep to it to myself, but honestly, it's all I taught about when you left."

You place the bottle in the middle of the table carefully and sit back down with your eyes on him.

He moved his chair closer again.

"Do share," you urge.

Joel looks around the yard—he seems to do it a lot when he's dipping his toes into personal places and says, "This is the first time in a—uh—I don't even know. A while. That I just... sat with another adult. Drank something nice. Talked about more than just—fucking politics, or whatever." Joel's eyes on you make you feel honored. You know he'd say that's a silly thought if you said it out loud. "It's really nice. And—the depressing part comes in now: I'm only here 'cause of my brother."

You tilted your hair. "You're here because... of Tommy?" you tried connecting those dots, but came up short.

Thankfully, Joel was here. With his smile, and his explanation.

"You see, before Sarah's mom and I decided she could spend some months here instead of just a few weekends, I was already... shutting in. His words, not mine," Joel picks up his glass for a sip, and you hang onto every word he says. "So when she came, he took me out one night. That little bar a few blocks from here—y'know Mr. O'Donovan's place?" when you shake your head, he waves a hand, "I'll take you someday—'s the only place around here that's worth a dime."

"I'll take your word for it." I hate bars. You'd go for him. With him.

"I think I know what beer you'd like," it comes off as a whisper, and you have to hide behind your glass again. "I only remember that talk because he made me promise. He's not one to ask for promises."

"What did he make you promise?"

"He was upset 'cause I kept turnin' him down every time he wanted to do his 'meet my friend and you'll be good friends' match-making shit, so he said, 'you promise that the next time someone invites you do somethin' you actually wanna do, you're not gonna turn 'em down? You'll actually fucking go, without makin' excuses to yourself'. And that sounded fair. So I promised."

You take note of the effort he's making.

The subtle 'this isn't just about what's about to happen'.

'I'll take you someday'.

'Next time someone invites you to do somethin' you actually wanna do'.

So more than just neighbors. You nod at that, smiling at him. "He seems like a good brother," you say. "Siblings can be a pain in the ass."

Joel stops his glass on the way to his lip to shake his head at you, "Oh, no no," he takes the sip first, and says, "one doesn't negate the other. He very much is a pain in my ass, trust me."

You laugh. "Older and younger?"

"Younger," he nods. "I had a lil' bit of peace here and there before he was born."

"Can't imagine you'd have it any other way nowadays."

He agrees with you.

When he doesn't, Joel scrunches his nose as he shakes his head.

He does silly faces. You wonder if he's aware of how unfair it is that he gets to look like that. Tender. Charming.

He proves your theory to be right with only half another bottle.

Put two or more adults plus a certain amount of alcohol in a closed environment, and sex will be on the table.

It makes you blush when you think... it could literally be on the table.

Joel pretends he doesn't see you growing hotter. He keeps his eyes on you as you take off the robe instead of looking at your arms. Listens to what you're saying without losing focus.

Only when you're done and asking him something in response that he looks.

It makes your throat dry when he does.

Joel has an unabashed, almost cocky tilt to his mannerisms.

You thought he'd be quieter than he is—more serious.

It's a welcomed contrast.

When sex is laid on the table, it comes because he brought up the joke you made at the beginning of the night about his lack of interest in your life, and decided to ask you things. Where you grew up. If you were always like this.

"Define 'like this'."

"Smart with the calculating glance, and sweet-talking."

"Is that me?"

"Sure is, Sunshine."

None of the questions that people usually ask.

It makes you bite your lip more than you wished—his manly, tall presence gets under your skin in ways that no previous partner managed to. Tucking your hair behind your ear, avoiding leading the conversation to the exact places you liked, giggling—those weren't things you did.

He pulled them from you.

When he does ask you the 'usual' questions, it lacks the malicious curiosity inflating others whenever they did.

Sex is laid on the table because Joel looks you in the eyes with that easiness in his shoulders and asks, "I'm not as private as you, though—all of my neighbors already know Tommy, and Sarah. You, on the other hand... the mysterious crime and horror novelist, who talks to her plants and moved from so, so far. I might not be the prying type, but I was curious about you long before my gremlin set her little claws on you. How come I never see anyone coming in or out of here? You tellin' me not one friend of yours followed you here to god-forsaken Texas?"

Your glass is almost empty, and you focus on the twirling of the red inside it to avert your mind from the way he's sitting. "The point of moving was getting away from them. All of them, as bad as that sounds," you cover your eyes with your free hand, and Joel's hand touches your forearm.

"Hey—it's fine. Don't feel bad. 'm happy you had the privilege of gettin' away. If you wanted to move away from all of it, I'm sure you had your reasons."

Looking between your fingers, you try appraising his face. "Really?"

"Really," he nods.

"Okay." You sit up straight. "And I do have people over, sometimes. You're just always at work."

"Yeah? You made friends already?"

"A few, yeah."

"Where?" he removes his hand from your forearm but drops it to your chair's armrest. The proximity is doing something to you. "I thought you worked from home."

"I do," you agree. "But I do other stuff. I'm not always here with my plants, Joel," you roll your eyes, smiling amusedly.

Joel laughs, "I wouldn't know. If I could work from home and stay with my tools and wood, I would."

"And I believe you," you nodded.

He bites on his smile before asking. "What other stuff d'you do?"

"I joined a book club," you reply, feeling all levels of boring.

From his look, he disagrees. "You got the patience for that?"

"Sure do," you nod again.

He nods, pouting in awe. "Nice," he says. "Are your book club friends givin' you the right impression of Texans?"

"I'm warming up to them," you smile.

Nodding, he asks, "Should I ask now the questions all my neighbors already know the answer to? 'Cause I am curious. Did you know Mr. Adler tried tellin' me what he 'discovered' about you? He tried looking blasé when he said that, but I'm sure he just wanted to gossip about the pretty girl who moved across from him."

"Ew, Joel," you laugh.

His eyes never leave you—you feel it even when you're not looking at him. He's laughing too. "What? It's true."

When you look back up at him, you wonder—when did you two get this close?

"You can ask," you say. "It's not that exciting, the answer. Actually, it's not exciting at all."

"Hmm, I'll be the judge of that," he sips his wine, and leaves the glass on the table. "You already know my backstory, so kill my curiosity now," he pierces with his eyes for a moment, "how on Earth is there no ring on this finger?" he points to your ring finger, then he leans in closer, and you can smell the wine in his breath; you want to kiss it until it's taste is gone, "and how is it that I never see anyone leaving here early in the mornings?"

Well. "No ring 'cause I didn't want one so far," you reply. To him, you give more honesty than anyone else who's asked. "And I have the luxury of living without it. I know many friends of mine who don't—and actually, that was part of..." don't go there. "Nevermind," you shake your head, pinning yourself to here.

"You just didn't want it?" he echos.

You nod, "Never did," there's no reason to lie to him. He smells so good—why would you lie to him? "Most men bore men, Joel."

"Wow," the smile that widens is a little baffled. A little dirty. "Should I be scared?"

At that, you burst out laughing. "Really?" You have no clocks outside, but the starry sky and the deep silence in the houses next to you are a good enough indicator. "It's been... a couple of hours, at least. We're one bottle and a half," you say, looking at your glasses shining on the table, "deep into conversation... and you wonder if you should be scared?"

Joel's still looking at you when you look back. His arm is around your chair, and your back touches it when you lean back against it. "I'll take that as a no."

"You are very far from boring."

"'m happy you think so," he smiles. He lets his eyes drop to your lips, without a care for the two palms of distance that separate your faces. It's meant to be blatant. Obvious. "Just another question..."

Here it comes, you thought. Why no kids? Why so alone? Do you feel lonely?

"Why me?" he asks.

It's nothing more than a breath.

You could ignore it. Give any answer, and close the gap. Instead, you give him honesty. "Honestly? I was so attracted to you, the second I saw you, that I was willing to even hear somethin' stupid coming out of your mouth if I could just—," do it, do it, do it. Seeing his eyes darken from up close is torture. You can feel the pulse of your heartbeat between your legs. "Now, if I were any smart, I'd be wishing for you to be bad at all the rest, because..."

This was amazing already.

Joel laughs, just a single, breathy laugh, and then does something you would never see it coming.

He pushes his chair back with the weight of his hips and drops to his knees.

The gasp you let out is enough to put the most insufferable smile on his face.

"Don't say that," he feigns hurt, as if he wasn't smiling with his eyes and lips. "It might've been a while, but I don't think I lost my touch just yet."

Joel's hands envelop your knees and slowly pull them apart. You feel like an open wire—aware of every breath your body takes and each minimum reaction to him.

You feel the wet pulse inside your panties when he kisses the skin of your inner thigh, right above your knee.

Joel smiles up at you, blinking his eyes.

Damn him, you think. His hands caress their way up your skin, and you wished you were naked already.

He seems like someone to enjoy the torture—when his hands reach the curve of your ass, they stop there, holding onto your waist.

"Have I?" he asks, kissing the other inner leg. You feel a hint of his tongue in the short kiss.

What could you say to that?

"You really haven't."

Feeling the hot breathing of his laughter on your inner thighs was not in your list for tonight.

"Do I get a kiss, then?"

He would never have to ask you twice.

Your legs wrap around his torso when you lean down to meet him for the kiss. Joel seems to love the position—he smiles at first, gripping you by the neck.

He takes his time to look at you before he dives in. A mental check-in. Maybe just admiring, just as you were from the second he kneeled.

His kiss comes from experience. A lot of fucking experience.

If you were weak in the knees before, you seal the notion that you're out of your depth there and then.

Joel kisses like no one's ever kissed you before—like he wants to explore, discover, conquer.

He licks his way inside of you with the first kiss.

His tongue isn't shy; he makes you adjust to his rhythm, to let go and open up, and when you, you're rewarded with it—he pulls up just an inch, just to whisper, "that's it," and then dives back in.

Joel wraps his arm around your shoulder and neck in a possessive manner. It's why he makes it so easy for you let him guide it—he's holding you, and you moan as you melt into him.

He wants to feel your body.

The more you press yourself against him, the more Joel grants you little sighs of his own pleasure.

He never pushes his hips against you. Never presses you towards him.

It makes you want to scream.

When he pulls away, Joel sighs happily. He presses his right thumb over your swollen bottom lip, and nodding, kneels on his heels again.

"Joel..."

Your face remains close to his, gravitating to where he does. He whispers, "Lift your hips up for me, Sunshine," wrapped around a smile.

You do as he says.

His hand takes off your shorts without your eyes ever leaving you, and when the item is on the floor, Joel releases the robe you foregone earlier tonight from your backrest to slide down where you sit.

To not make a mess, it says.

Your face is burning up, but not as much as the rest of you.

"Is this ok?" he asks.

He waits for your nod of approval before pulling you by your knees. "Good," he's strong enough to get you where he wants in one pull. Your hips are nearing the end of the chair and from this angle, Joel gets to look.

He eyes the underwear as if it's personally offending him.

"I like the color," he says. He traces a finger across the baby blue lace and looks up at you. "Suits ya," he says. That's when he hooks a finger on the fabric, pulling it to the side. "I dreamt about this."

That gets to you.

Joel's fingers are thorough—able. He uses his knuckles to spread the lips apart, uncaring about the whines you let out above him, still holding on to the shame of being the only one exposed.

It lasts until he places two knuckles on each side of your clit, stimulating it with back-and-forth movements.

You were right about the torture.

He enjoys it.

Joel waits for your clit to be hard between his fingers before he puts his mouth to it.

You can only cling onto his hair.

I dreamt about this, too.

"Fuck—I dreamt about this too," you confess.

His moan vibrating against the core of your pussy makes you clench.

Joel's only starting.

He takes his time in finding the rhythm you most feel pleasure on your clit. He never bites, never nibbles, and doesn't go softly, like other men.

He eats.

Joel's mouth is stuck to you—the way he laps and slurps and sucks on your hardened nub only makes your volume go from whines and pleas of his name to moans in very little time.

That's when he dips his tongue inside. When he uses it as muscle and proves to you why the idea of oral is so good for men.

Because it's good.

Joel gives no indicator that he wants to stop at any time, and it turns you into something that blossoms.

At some point between him almost making you cum just by sucking on your clit and fucking his tongue in and out of you, your legs made their way to his shoulders, and his hands have secured themselves groping your ass.

He pulls back for air, once.

His fingers enter you instead, two at once.

"So wet already," he says. You only hear it, until, "look at me," he asks.

As if his thick, long fingers dripping into places inside of you weren't enough, you get to look at him.

His face glistening on your back porch is something that burns behind your eyelids the second you see it. You feel incoherent, needy, and exposed in more than one way.

Joel looks like he could eat you like this.

"Joel—please. Please," you're begging, but for what, you're not sure.

"Cum for me first. I'll give you whatever you want later, just," he pumps his fingers inside of you, keeping a steady and strong pace, and then says, "You look so good like this, Jesus fuckin' Christ."

Profanities.

That's what he says before getting his mouth back on you—his tongue sucking and vibrating against your clit.

It's too much. Too fucking much, and, "Joel, Joel—"

He pulls back just to say it, "That's it, doin' so good, Sunshine—" and that's when you lose it. The coaxing. It's so earnest. Sounds so pleased, dipping in honey as if it's him who's feeling this good.

"'m gonna cum Joel, fuck me, just like that—"

"Like this? Hm? Show me. Cum on my mouth."

All it takes is for him to put it back on you. Joel knows how to push himself inside—knows how to explore the hot and tight confines of your cunt, because he coos a first orgasm out of you with the right pace only.

No strength. No speed. Just sucking, and curling right against your spot.

Your vision whites out.

The time you take to come back to yourself, he keeps playing with your pussy and the mess he made in it, seeming as satisfied with the result as you are. Somewhere in white land.

What a little death.

After that, it's more a mess and clashes of teeth and desires than you knew you were even capable of.

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you pull him inside the house.

The idea is to make it to your room, but you never make it past the living room.

When you press him against a wall to finish taking off his clothes, seeing him only in briefs makes gravity pull you in.

Nothing but black briefs.

You have to drop to your knees.

Joel curses under his breath and tries his best at keeping his posture, but you're with a mind entirely clouded by raw need.

To him, you want to do only your best.

You're addicted to the way he mutters, "atta girl," every time you discover something that brings him pleasure. It sounds so fucking dirty.

"That's it. Atta fuckin' girl, god."

With him, you use tricks your friends once told you that are buried in the back of your mind. You hold the part of his cock your mouth can't cover and move it in sync with your lips. You make it wet, make sloppy, make it whatever he leads it to be.

Joel hisses and moans louder when you find the special places hidden—the sensitive skin between his balls that leads up, you lick it from start to finish and are rewarded with a full-body shudder.

He shows you what strong body means.

"Where's your room?" he pulls you by the arms, and you somehow end up jumping on him. Exactly what you wanted.

"I'm not makin' that far," you tell him with a grin.

He has his thumb on your lips again—he seems to like your mouth.

"Didn't think you'd want my bare ass on your couch."

"That is exactly where I want your bare ass right now," you tell him.

He's good at following requests, just as he is at giving them.

Joel sits with you already straddling his lap, and bless his gentleman's heart, he says, "I left my pants outside—wait," he curses under his breath with your hips circling his shaft. Letting it slide between your pussy lips. "Fuckin' hell."

"Fuckin' hell indeed," you sigh. "Wait here."

You run outside for it, only because you're not on the pill. Maybe you'll start taking it. Maybe you shouldn't think that far.

Joel's waiting for you alright—he has his hand at the base of his cock, sitting on your couch like a modern-day Adonis.

A sluttier Adonis. Sexier, too.

"Stop starin' and c'mere," he demands;

And who are you to say no to that?

Joel does you the favor of putting it on as you make yourself comfortable on his lap again, taking all of your out of the way. He looks like he wants to eat you alive piece by piece, and you love it.

"Lemme know if you want me to take over," he tells you.

"Yes, sir," you whisper in a taunting manner.

Joel rests his forehead against yours when you line himself up with you, and it's a reward of your stupid, gigantic-ass window letting in the light from outside that allows you to see the pleasure on his face as you sink around him, burying him to the hilt.

His digits press so hard on your sides they'll brise.

You'll be bruised tomorrow morning.

Fingerprints on your hips, beard burns on your inner legs, palm shapes across your ass.

When you start moving, none of you say a word about how it feels.

It's criminal.

Only curses and your names are allowed in the thin space separating your wet bodies.

The thin layer of sweat makes you two glide on each other, and the drag of him inside of you is almost too good for words.

You're scared of the ones that'd make their way out, anyway.

So you let out what you can. You call for him, and he calls back. Joel slaps your ass, both sides of it, and urges you on to take him as you want it.

"Fuckin' christ, I'm never gonna—fuck—never gonna sleep again."

There it is. Being pussy-drunk makes him loose-lipped.

Your own are aching with how hard you bite on them.

Joel lets the reigns remain on your hands as you stay on top. He lets you ride him painfully slow, and faster, just because it feels good. He lets you climb all the way up only to slam back down, praising you through the fog in your brain.

"Does it feel good, Sunshine? Mm? My cock feels that good for you?"

You're sure it'll all come back to haunt you once your brain can be coherent.

He takes charge when you start begging him, and for what, you're unsure of. It's a mixture of please and his name, which Joel takes as his permission slip.

He flips you onto your back, hooks one of your legs on the middle of his back, and fucks you both into another orgasm.

It should be concerning the way he does it—like he's familiar with your body and your cues. He just follows your pace and moans until you're clawing at his back, and when his name comes out over and over again, he coaxes it again. Coos at you, holding your face in one hand. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't ya? Do it. I'll cum for you when I feel you shakin' around my cock, Sunshine. Cum for me."

It comes so hard you almost faint; blackout.

Joel takes care of you afterward.

Of course he does.

Even with the weakest legs and the minimum sense of reality around you, he manages. Joel leads you upstairs, tells you he's collected your clothes, and even lays down when you ask him.

"Just for a while," you ask.

He lays in front of you in bed, and pulls your arms around him. "I'm puttin' an alarm."

Little spoon. "You gotta be back here in the morning anyway."

"I know," he kisses your wrist. "Can't wait."

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene

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#usernexusnyx #joel miller #joel miller drabble #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller masterlist #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 months

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hmmm just imagine Jason Todd with a girlfriend pretty and kind like an angel and everyone is just shocked because 'how they're a couple??"

Think I went a little of ask for this one 😂 🦦

Jason calls you his angel for a reason.

You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re downright beautiful/gorgeous and withheld an equally sweet, kind soul that bleeds through everything that you did or said. When you met Jason he was on the cusp of unconsciousness, finding him just slumped at your front door, severely injured. Anyone else who knew better would’ve left him but no, not you. You brought him -THE RedHood- into your house and home out of the kindness of your heart and patched him up as best as you could.

Heaven sent is another name of endearment that Jason called you and it held true on a plethora of occasions where he would find himself being dragged back at your doorstep, and it wasn’t long after that did Jason finally allow himself to pursue a chance at happiness by your side, and he’d be damned if it wasn’t the best decision he’s ever made in his entire life because being with you had been nothing short of a dream for Jason. A dream he never thought he’d get to live with the fucked up ordeal of having came back from the dead.

However when his family manages to catch wind of this because nothing stays secret for long, not by a long shot, their first thought was; how?

This wasn’t a slight towards Jason or his character but they couldn’t help but feel as though they’ve blinked and missed something extremely pivotal for this to have become the end result. They weren’t the only one to share this sentiment though as even Jason would be taken aback by your differences and often wondered if you were too different for your relationship to work.

It does however and it was one of the only times where Jason was grateful for being wrong for getting inside his own head, and just before he possibly ruins the best thing that has ever happened to him in a long, long while by self sabotage too. God only knows how much Jason would’ve hated himself for doing such a heinous thing to someone as underserving of such treatment as you.

So when Dick asks him one day ‘how did you manage to get someone like them?’ Whilst gesturing to you as you talked with the likes of Duke, Stephanie and Cass and getting along. Jason couldn’t think of a clear answer that would be enough to satisfy his brother’s curiosity because how was he meant to answer that question without it sounding generic and unoriginal.

‘Did you use any offhanded tactics to get them to be in a relationship with you?’ Damian asks and Dick gives him a look, only for the younger of the two of them to shrug his shoulders. ‘It was only a simple question Grayson.’

‘Yeah, just not one you ask when your brother comes home for the first time in months, and in a relationship nonetheless with the epitome of sweetness.’ Dick replied before looking over to Jason who was looking over at you with soft yet protective look on his face, but before Dick could say anything about how nothing was going to happen to you whilst in the Wayne Manor, Jason had already found the answer he has been looking for the entire evening.

‘They saved me.’ In the moment he said those words you looked over at him, Dick and Damian and smiled brightly that it never failed to knock the air out of Jason’s lungs upon seeing it. His angel, his heaven sent, the face he is blessed to see first and last thing in the mornings and late nights where he gently scolds you for staying up for him before kisses you in gratitude for doing so anyway.

Dick seemed content with this answer and meanwhile Damian looked visibly indifferent, he made a noise that said that he was also satisfied with this answer, just in time too as you came over to Jason and subtly held his pinkie with your own as you kissed his cheek. ‘You didn’t to tell me how cool your siblings were Jay!’ You began when Dick decided to join in on it too as he looked as Jason, betrayed. ‘You didn’t? Why not? Is it because you want your lovely partner to always be biased towards you?’ He pouts.

You chuckled and patted Jason on the bicep as you addressed Dick. ‘I’m always going to be bias towards my Jason.’ You admitted, causing a wave of warmth to flood Jason’s entire body upon hearing your confident confession. ‘For he is simply the best man I have ever met and that will never change.’

‘Never?’ Dick asked.

‘Never.’ You answered.

‘Even if he may be in the wrong sometimes?’ Damian asked this time and you shrugged, still smiling. ‘Not all of us are perfect beings and that’s a reality I’d accept rather than one where we’re all without flaw, physical or otherwise.’ Jason felt as though he might combust from your words alone but managed to compose himself enough to press a kiss to your temple to whisper against it. ‘Thank you baby.’

‘Anything for you Jaybirdie.’ You responded in kind, feeling him take hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers together as you rested your head against his bicep as you both continued to talk with Damian and Dick.

Yours and Jason’s relationship may not be what many expected it to be or make logical but why should it when you and Jason were more than happy together?

#jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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withleeknow · 4 months

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my moon and stars.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, (tooth-rotting) fluff; even tho it's unedited this is still one of my favorite things that i've written on this blog so far !!! gaaaaaaah word count: 1.1k listen to 🎧: lover - taylor swift

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

nobody thought jeongin would be the next one to get married, but alas, here you are, at the reception of your friend's wedding, nursing a glass of champagne.

"come on," minho says, snatching the glass away from you and finishing the rest of it in one gulp, before he takes you by the hand and tugs you forward. "let’s go dance."

you can't even be annoyed that he basically just stole your drink. instead, you just laugh, and let the love of your life drag you to the dance floor.

he guides you to move in a slow rhythm, matching the tempo of the song that's playing in the background. it's a song that you would usually think is overrated and has been played to hell and back, but in the moment, drunk on the cozy atmosphere, you think it's nice. you briefly wonder what song you would choose for your first dance at your own wedding.

it's just a fleeting thought. you've been having those all day.

jeongin's wedding was beautiful. everything was done to perfection, and you have no doubt that most of it was overseen by his girlfriend.

nope, correction: she's his wife now.

nevertheless, you've been imagining yourself and minho in a similar setting. you in a stunning white dress. him, dashing in a classy suit. the two of you exchanging vows with teary eyes in front of your friends and families. the cats as ring bearers. sealing forever with a deep kiss and fond smiles.

as you continue to sway along to the music, you wrap your arms around minho's neck and pull him closer. there's something in the way that he's been treating you all day that makes you melt even more than it usually does. he's been more touchy; there's not a single moment where his hands aren't on your body in any way, whether it be a hand on your knee, on the small of your back, or an arm around your waist. minho isn't often overt with his affection like that; he tends to dote on you in the privacy of your own loving bubble, away from anyone and everyone.

then, there's the softness that he's looking at you with in his chocolate brown eyes. it's warm, saccharine; it makes you feel like you two are the only people left in the room even though this is supposed to be someone else's big day.

"i love you," he says suddenly, brushing his nose against yours before leaning in just a tad closer to your lips, "you mean the world to me."

it's rare for minho to say things like this out of the blue. he's a man of few words after all.

he's full of surprises today, it seems.

"what's the occasion?" you ask with a coy smile.

"no occasion. just wanted to tell you that."

you close the distance, pressing your lips against his as his arms wrap themselves tighter around your body. "i love you too," you smile against him.

he mirrors your smile, and kisses you deeper. he's so sweet today, so openly loving with you even as your friends around you watch on.

you have an inkling that maybe, just maybe, he's been thinking the same things as you.

you stay in each other's arms until the song ends, then another one, then a couple more, just basking in soothing glow of love that's covering the air tonight. minutes pass with kisses shared, until it's finally time for the bouquet toss.

minho reluctantly lets you leave his side for the first time since the morning. his eyes follow you as you move to the front of the room, standing a comfortable distance away from the bride. you've never really been interested in this kind of things anyway; you're just doing it for the sake of participation.

everyone else is engrossed in what's about to happen, their eyes fixed on the bride and the peonies in her hands, but minho is only focused on you. you, who's trying to blend in with the group of people and undoubtedly praying that the bouquet doesn't make its way into your hands. you, whom he thinks looks so beautiful, all dolled up for the special occasion. you, who made his heart stutter when you walked into the room in your pretty dress and flashed him a bashful smile. (but who is he kidding? you make his heart want to give out and run away every single morning when he wakes up and sees you peacefully sleeping in his arms.)

just you. always only you.

you, you, you.

you don't hang in the moon in the sky. you are the moon, you are the stars.

minho watches you watch the bride as she counts down from 3, then flings the bouquet up in the air while everyone waits with bated breath. it's a mess of flailing arms from what he can tell, a couple of the bridesmaids practically fighting each other to try and grab the damn thing.

you try to make yourself smaller, to duck lower so that the others could have the honor instead of you. but when the flowers come hurling toward you, you have no choice but to raise your hands and catch it, lest you want to be lobbed in the face with a bouquet of peonies.

some of the people around you sigh frustratedly, but most of the guys around minho suddenly burst into loud cheers. they clap him on the back and shake him by the shoulders but still, he remains transfixed on you and your adorable wide-eyed expression. your parted lips and doe eyes blinking fast as a rosy flush creeps up your skin.

your eyes find him in an instant, and you both just stare at each other for a moment. he reckons that you're trying to gauge his reaction, because the room is now filled with excited squeals of congratulations and half-hearted jokes of how you and minho are going to be the next ones to get hitched.

you look uncertain, still frozen in place with your hands clutching the peonies.

but then he just smiles, and it makes you smile too, your body immediately relaxing as you give him a wave using the bouquet, your shoulders slumping slightly when you release a sigh.

to minho, it doesn't matter whether you caught the flowers or not; neither of you believes in that kind of stuff anyway. it doesn't matter because he's always known that he was going to marry you, that there's no one else he would rather spend the rest of his life with.

it doesn't matter because unbeknownst to you, he's already got a velvet box hidden somewhere in your shared home, with a gorgeous diamond ring inside just waiting for the day it can be put on your finger.

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#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

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viennakarma · 1 month

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My dearest friend and enemy

Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]

Find me on Twitter!

PART 2 (END)

You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.

“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.

“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.

The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.

He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.

“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.

“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.

“Are you sure?” You asked again.

“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.

“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”

“You know?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”

You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.

From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.

You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.

That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.

“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.

You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.

The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.

“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”

You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.

“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”

“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.

“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”

He laughed it off.

Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips.

“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.

“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.

“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”

“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head.

At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.

“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.

“Like to what?” He frowned.

“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.

Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.

“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”

“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”

He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.

“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.

“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.

“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”

A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.

“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.

“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.

“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.

Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.

You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.

“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.

“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”

“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”

That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.

Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed.

You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.

He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.

“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”

He only laughed at your happy ramble.

You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.

“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.

“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you.

Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.

“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.

“Hm?”

“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.

“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.

“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”

You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.

“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”

Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.

The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.

“Nano!” You hugged him.

“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.

You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.

Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.

“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.

“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.

“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”

You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.

When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.

During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.

Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.

“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.

And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.

So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.

That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.

He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.

“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.

“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.

Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.

That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.

You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.

“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.

“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.

“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”

It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.

“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.

“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.

“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.

“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.

When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.

“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.

“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.

“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.

After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.

When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.

Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.

When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.

He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.

Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.

You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.

“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.

“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.

“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”

The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.

“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”

“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”

His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.

“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.

“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.

After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.

“Nena…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.

“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.

“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”

“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

You walked past him, leaving at once.

That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.

He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.

“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.

“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”

Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.

He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.

“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”

His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.

“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party.

Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.

You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.

“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.

“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered,

“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”

“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.

You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.

Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.

The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.

All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.

Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.

“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”

You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.

“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.

“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.

“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.

When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.

“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.

“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”

“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.

You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you.

“Fernando, please-”

“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.

“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.

You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.

Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.

“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.

“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”

You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.

“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.

“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.

“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.

Shame and jealousy burned inside you.

He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.

You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.

“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”

You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.

The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.

“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.

“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”

“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.

“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.

“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.

Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.

You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.

“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.

“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”

You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.

It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.

“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.

“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.

“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”

“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.

“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”

“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”

Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.

“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.

“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.

“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.

“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”

“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”

“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”

“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.

“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.

You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.

“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.

“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.

“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.

“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.

“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”

You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.

You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.

“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”

Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.

They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.

“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.

“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.

“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”

“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”

“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”

So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.

You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.

You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.

It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.

So you had to prove Fernando wrong.

NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 #formula one #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #brocedes #Spotify

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k4vehrtz · 5 months

Text

⸻ YOU'RE A CRISIS OF MY FAITH

. ✦ . starring — dom!top! t. fushiguro / m! reader

warnings — porn with some plot, sacrilege, a copious amount of religious themes, priest! reader, virgin reader ergo loss of virginity, allusion to homophobia / internalised homophobia, unprotected sex, blowjob (r receiving), deepthroating, fingering, riding, creampie, toji lowkey has a corruption kink, use of the nickname 'angel', toji refers to the reader as father once but that is entirely in a religious sense . ✦ . wc — 2.1k . ✦ . notes — we'll all pretend that didn't just happen!! anyway!! i'm so so normal about toji...and !! i don't know what exactly falls under dark content but seeing as this contains sacrilege you've been warned nevertheless. not proof read bc t**blr stressed me out

“what does —” he stops himself mid-sentence to motion upwards, “the big man upstairs think about homosexuality?”

you swallow hard, your adam’s apple bobbing. you hadn’t expected the question, naturally. especially from the likes of toji fushiguro of all people. but you answer anyway. “well,” you murmur, averting your gaze so that you’d stare out the window as the first signs of winter begin to settle in for its extended stay instead of being forced to meet toji’s pointed gaze. “we all are subject to desires that may or may not reflect god’s light, but these desires aren’t sinful unless you act or encourage others to act on them.”

he nods almost absentmindedly in response before following up with: “…even you, i imagine, as a man of god, could fall victim to such desires?”

and you pause for a beat, your jaw tightening as an image escapes the dark recesses of your mind; the neat box you’ve forced what you deemed unpleasant thoughts into.

the man in your mind didn’t look quite like anyone you knew at first. he was just a man without a name or a face — similarly to the world before god’s divine intervention, he too was without form. but then, by chance, you met toji fushiguro and his teenage son. then the man who’d haunt your thoughts began to change.

he was older, weathered by life experiences and parenting, and taller, maybe 6’2, with messy black hair that fell over his brows. his hair reminded you of the cloudless, starless night sky. then there was that scar on the corner of his right lip. you’d imagined yourself on more than one occasion leaning toward him, pressing your lips against it before he’d open his mouth and let you explore the wet cavern.

though you shake your head as if that would dismiss your thoughts, fingers curling defensively around the window’s ledge. “everyone encounters temptation in their day-to-day, but, like god’s son, we must resist.” you counter eventually. “you’re not one for idle chatter.”

“i’m not,” he agrees, his voice smooth, something akin to the feeling of silk against your skin. it gives you goosebumps and makes the hairs stand up. he puts his hands up in mock surrender, his gaze intent. you can feel him burning holes into the back of your head. “you know, i think i’m long overdue for a confession.”

“as you wish.”

“our heavenly father has declared the following in the book of james, chapter five, verse sixteen: ‘therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective’. now, in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit, amen.”

silence — and then toji sucks in a breath, his voice thick with an emotion you can’t quite grasp but has you shifting in your seat on the other side of the confessional booth anyway. you’re, on some level, disgusted by your behaviour. it’s unprofessional at best, or perhaps the beginning of your unravelling at worst. you fear it’s the latter.

“bless me, father, for i have sinned,” the words slide off his tongue with ease, “it has been two months since my last confession.” and your eyes flutter closed, or maybe you forced them closed because you feel no better than a pervert by the way you ache at every sound that comes out of his mouth.

either way, you don’t notice the way the door creaks as toji lets himself out of his side of the confessional booth and opens the door to yours until he’s kneeling in front of you, the pads of his fingers digging into your sides. the skin of his fingers is rough, worn out from the different tasks he takes on to keep himself and megumi afloat, you think. he’s become something of a handyman around town.

“to be honest, father,” he says, now directly addressing you. “i came here fer’ your guidance…you see, i’ve been havin’ thoughts lately that i don’t think align with what god wants.” and you find yourself at a loss, your eyes still closed, though your adam’s apple bobs again as you swallow your suppressed thoughts. “my guidance?” you repeat quietly, “confess your…thoughts…then, and seek forgiveness. it’s not a sin unless you act on those thoughts.”

he lets out a pleased hum at that, leaning forward so that his face is practically buried in your clothed crotch. “so,” he counters, “if my understanding is correct, would it be a sin if i told you to spread your legs f’me?”

you don’t trust yourself to speak right now — not when your thoughts are all muddled. so, you simply nod and toji clicks his tongue. “but sin or not, you’re going to anyway because you and i both know how we feel about each other, right? c’mon, use your big boy words and tell me.”

the smart thing—no, the right thing to do here would be to say no. adamantly deny the lingering touches and glances that the two of you had come to share. affection between two men could only go so far. but then again, you’ve gone so much farther in the safety of your bedroom long after the sun has set. how much longer could you shamelessly show your face to the other members of the church and listen to them confess their deepest secrets to you? you’re parading as a righteous man when you’re anything but.

if it turns out to be as bad of a sin as they say, god will strike you down.

turns out it’s not as bad of a sin as they say — or maybe it is and you’ve yet to receive divine punishment.

“god works in mysterious ways,” you say under your breath but toji hears it anyway. how could he not when you’re in such proximity to each other? you hadn’t meant to say it out loud but it doesn’t matter. and toji (ever the charmer) takes it upon himself to respond, “maybe he brought us together for a reason…or maybe i’m one of lucifer’s lackeys sent to seduce you.”

you make the conscious decision to ignore that which seems to entertain toji even more. he’s ridiculous in ways you can’t fathom. like…the way he’s got your legs spread, back pressed firmly against the wood of the confessional, your thighs trembling as he clicks his tongue, “spread yer’ legs a little wider f’me angel, s’not enough f’me to suck that pretty cock.”

he… he knows what he’s doing. whereas you were clumsy and inexperienced. but, to be fair, you had taken a vow of celibacy when you were twelve.

now, though, you’re experiencing true pleasure for the first time — and with a man, no less. you tilt your head back in what little space the confessional affords you as toji gives your balls tentative touches, maybe light squeezes, as he aligns the head of your leaking cock with his mouth. you’re embarrassed, warmth flooding your cheeks, but you can’t look away. not when this is all you’ve ever wanted.

there’s pre-cum on his lips; your pre-cum. it’s there, as clear as day, and he’s entirely unbothered. all of his attention is on your cock. your cock that’s throbbing as he sucks on it. pre-cum and saliva mixing. it’s all so new to you.

as for him…well isn’t this cute? you’re trying your hardest to stifle those needy moans of yours, he can tell. but no matter how much you bite down on your lower lip or how you press your hands against your mouth those pretty sounds you make always find a way of escaping. part of him, somewhere deep down, feels guilty for corrupting you like this. but perhaps he doesn’t feel guilty enough.

he continues to work on your cock, sucking on it whilst simultaneously fondling with your balls. you’re quivering, rutting your hips forward now and then. occasionally you go too far and it scares you at first — you didn’t mean to push your cock all the way to the back of his throat! ever the unbothered, though, he welcomes it until you’re spurting your load down his throat. and he swallows, utterly content.

then he coos at you, bringing a thumb up to your face, and tracing the outline of your jaw. “don’t worry about me, angel, you’re not going to hurt me. what you’re going to do f’me is let me reposition us so i can see your pretty boy hole, m’kay? my boy can do that f’me, right?”

my boy. the idea of being his. after so long…it only feels right. so, you allow him to readjust your position so that you’re straddling his lap and somewhere in the process you both disregard your clothes.

“you’ve been thinking about my cock? that’s why yer’ hole is winking f’me? all ready to take my cock like a big boy?” he asks and you nod your head eagerly. every word that comes out of his mouth is dirty but your reactions are the icing on the cake. you’re not the quiet, unassuming priest he met by chance all those months back. and to think that he’s the reason why.

well, he doesn’t linger on the thought. you’re impatient, squirming on his thighs in search of friction. but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t get him going and he may be many things but he would not force himself into you without properly preparing you to take him.

so as much as you whine about it, he ultimately takes his time with you. the nearest lubricant happened to be some sort of oil, but he made sure that it was safe to use before coating his fingers in a generous amount. then he oh so carefully drags his finger across your hole. it makes you shudder, but after a few minutes of this, you find yourself unprepared for the stretch of fitting a singular digit in. it hurts and the moment you so much as whimper toji’s pressing his lips against yours. the same lips that were around your cock only moments ago. his lips are gentle, soothing, even.

and he keeps it like that — his lips against yours as he slowly introduces more fingers into your ass. it takes a while but your pained whimpers soon morph into more desperate, filthy little noises as he drags his fingers in and out of your hole before curling them, tips grazing your prostate.

you want it, you decide. his cock, that is. you want his cock in your ass beyond a reasonable doubt. it’s all you need. bouncing on his fingers feels good but you just know that his cock would feel so much better.

“this is a sin, we’re both sinning,” you announce, your words strong but your delivery coming in between laboured gasps as his fingers continue to graze your prostate. “so i expect you to fuck me like you mean it.”

and he doesn’t need to be told twice. with a scoff — one that sounds more amused than annoyed — he pulls his fingers out of you. shaking his head as you whimper at the loss. but it’s soon replaced by something bigger and much thicker. it’s his cock, covered in the same oil, and you almost can’t believe it when he’s aligning it with your entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscle.

you have to take a few breaks before you fully sink on him with a low groan. he makes you feel so full and he hasn’t even moved yet. and when you take it upon yourself to ride him you revert to the softheaded boy he makes you out to be.

your movements are clumsy — mediocre, you’re sure of it. but toji doesn’t intervene. he simply leans back, big, warm hands on your hips, while you figure out your rhythm. and after a few failed attempts you find one that works for both of you. it feels good, it feels great even. his hard cock filling you to the brim while you all but mindlessly bounce on his cock, your walls clenching around his throbbing length.

you’re going to cum soon, you’re sure of it. and when you do eventually watch through teary eyes as your cock spurts ropes of cum onto his stomach you’re not surprised whatsoever. toji, however, takes a lot longer to cum. you’ve probably cum at least two more times by the time toji takes control, his grip on your hips tightening as he angles you just the right way to hit your prostate with each thrust of his hips upwards. your toes curl, eyes half-lidded, and you just barely acknowledge the warmth of his semen in your ass.

all you can think of, and just barely manage to stutter out is: “you’ve fucked me,” and he stares up at you with a smug smile, chest heaving as he copes with his orgasm that has been a long time coming, “yeah, i’ve fucked yer’ pretty boy hole.”

#x male reader smut #x bottom male reader #toji x male reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk x y/n #x sub male reader #jjk x male reader #toji fushiguro #toji smut

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ellemj · 4 months

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Wear That Again: 12 Days of Smut #7

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

This fic was inspired by two things:

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Ha16Rj/ this Tiktok edit by @the.stark.internship ( @thestarkinternship on Tumblr)

@littlemiss-yeehaw's latest smutty drawing which can be found on her blog, I've stared at it since yesterday and I'm still not over it.

Summary: Bucky ruins your brief holiday romance with a SHIELD agent out of jealousy. You'd think storming in and yelling at the super soldier would've ended in an argument and some slamming doors, but that's not what happens at all.

Warnings: profanity, some objectifying thoughts, possessive!Bucky, jealous!Bucky, thigh riding, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I don't know how tf it's happening but y'all have me averaging 1.2k notes per day on my blog for the last couple of days and it feels surreal. Also I just want to say, I wrote Bucky out-of-character for this one-shot and this is not how I imagine he'd be at all, but it was fun to write hehe.

“You little fucking shit.” You finally snap as the elevator doors are opening to let you out into the common living area of the tower. “Bucky, you are such an asshole.” You’re absolutely livid, and if your words hadn’t showed that then your actions sure would’ve. You’re slamming your hands down on the kitchen island before the elevator doors have even fully closed. Bucky sits on a barstool with a near straight face, completely unaffected by your rage and only briefly looking up at you as he chews through a bite of his Chinese takeout. “You’re the reason he stood me up, aren’t you? What the hell did you do this time?”

“Wear that outfit again.”

You’re silent for the longest moment yet, at least fifteen seconds, and Bucky thinks it might be a new record for you. He hasn’t paid attention to a damn thing you’ve said since you walked in, but he sure as hell paid attention to what you chose to wear tonight. You were supposed to be going on your third date with a SHIELD agent who crossed your path a number of times professionally before finally asking you out two weeks ago, and with it being just six days until Christmas, you were dressing for the occasion tonight. You’re wearing a tight black turtleneck sweater that’s tucked neatly into the tiniest holiday-themed miniskirt you could find. It's a sort of festively-colored tight plaid skirt that barely covers a thing, but you didn’t wear it for any reason other than to encourage your date to rip it off of you later. However, Bucky made sure the poor guy wouldn’t even get the chance to see the damn thing.

“What did you just say to me?” Your voice is shaking but not with fear, no. It’s shaking with the sheer amount of anger that’s currently eating you alive. Bucky lifts his gaze to meet yours as he sets his chopsticks down and picks up his half-empty beer bottle from the countertop. Letting his eyes roam over the entirety of your figure that isn’t obscured by the kitchen island, he boldly repeats himself.

“Wear that again.”

“If you like it, I’m burning it.” You say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest as you glare at the man before you. Bucky lets out a low laugh now, the sound is melodious but his gaze hardens and narrows as he focuses in on your face.

“If I like it?” All he can think about is pushing you up against a wall, lifting the back of that tiny little piece of fabric you call a skirt, and fucking you until Christmas morning. If he likes it? Hell, he fucking loves it.

“That’s it, I’m burning it.” You’ve had enough. First, he ruins your short-lived holiday romance. Then, he has the audacity to act like your outfit is doing something for him. As you said before, he’s a little fucking shit. You shoot him one last passing glare as you move around the island and start heading toward the hallway, ready to lock yourself in your room and plot his demise for the rest of the night. But Bucky just can’t let you have the last word, and he sure as hell can’t let you walk away from him looking like something that belongs under the Christmas tree. Or more accurately, something that belongs under him.

The two of you have done this dance so many times that you aren’t even surprised when you hear his barstool slide away from the island seconds before you feel a firm hand gripping your forearm and yanking you backward. You’re not surprised when suddenly, your front is pushed roughly against the wall of the hallway and his lips graze over the shell of your ear. Frustratingly, you’re not even a little bit surprised when you feel heat rushing through your body and settling between your legs.

“You’ll wear that outfit again, when I tell you to.” Bucky’s tone is so much less indifferent than it was only a moment ago. It’s so full of lust that it leaves you trembling, awaiting whatever his next move may be. He knows no one else is in the tower tonight, which means if he wanted to, he could take you right here in the hallway and not feel an ounce of guilt over it. Who’s he kidding? He’s done that before even with everyone in the tower, and guilt sure wasn’t the feeling he felt afterward. But he wants you in his room tonight. You and that fucking skirt.

Bucky takes your silence as obedience and steps away from you, letting you push yourself off of the wall and turn around to face him. If you’re being honest, you’re a little disappointed. That’s all he wants from you tonight?

“How long has it been since the last time we had sex?” Bucky questions. He knows you remember, probably down to they very hour. He remembers, but he has to make sure you do too.

“Two weeks.” You haven’t slept with Bucky since the SHIELD agent asked you out. Bucky mulls over the length of time in his mind. He wants to remedy that, he wants to fuck you tonight, but he won’t. You started seeing someone and threw Bucky to the side so easily that him waiting two weeks to ruin your dating life was the nicest possible thing he could’ve done in retaliation. He’s not going to give you what you need now, at least not everything you need.

Bucky’s silent as he pushes open his bedroom door and waits for you to step inside before him. He’s still silent as he sits on the edge of the bed and beckons you to stand between his legs. He begins raking his hands up the outsides of your thighs, sliding them underneath your skirt until he feels the waistband of your sheer tights. He isn’t so silent when he begins sliding those down your legs, letting out a soft groan when his hands meet your bare skin underneath. It’s been too fucking long since he’s touched you and an unfamiliar peace settles in his soul when he feels your warmth. You’re expecting him to rip the tights off, followed by the skirt and everything else you’re wearing. However, Bucky’s plan involves keeping you nearly fully clothed, and only partially satisfied. Once he has your heels and tights on his bedroom floor, he kneads your ass underneath your skirt, letting his fingertips brush over the fabric of your thong. God, he’s really practicing his restraint tonight. His cock is already hard, threatening to rip the seam of his pants with even the slightest movement, but he isn’t planning on getting his own fix tonight.

“Sit.” He commands, gripping your hips with both hands and pulling you down to straddle one of his thighs. As soon as your clothed core makes contact with the toned muscle of his thigh, you stiffen and try to shift your weight so you won’t be so stimulated. Bucky makes an annoyed face at you before slipping one hand back underneath your skirt and drawing your panties to the side, causing your wet clit to press against the fabric of his pants. “I’m not rewarding you for spending your time with some other guy for the last two weeks, I’m not having sex with you.”

You’re about to protest, to tell Bucky that he’s being sensitive, that the two of you never had any rules about dating, but Bucky senses your opposition and begins dragging you back and forth over his thigh. He looks down between the two of you as a wet spot quickly begins forming where your pussy meets his clothed leg. Fuck. It feels too good for you to even consider stopping and telling him that he’s an asshole. So, you go along with his guiding movements, grinding against his leg and finding just the right amount of pressure and friction to start heading toward an orgasm.

“You didn’t have to scare the guy off.” You mutter as you lean forward, letting your hands rest on Bucky’s shoulder as you place a gentle kiss against the side of his neck. He sighs and tilts his head to the side to give you better access, but his hands continue to guide the movement of your hips.

“Three dates were enough. I couldn’t stand it anymore.” He admits. You feel an odd sense of pride surge through you at his words, though you have no idea if he’s being honest or not. “I couldn’t let him have you like this.” You suck on the skin just beneath Bucky’s left ear and pick up the pace with which you’re grinding on his thigh.

“Fuck, James.”

Bucky knows this isn’t the right time for the conversation, so as you grind out an orgasm on his thigh, letting out the most heavenly moans and whimpers just for him, he tells himself to hold it together until Christmas. That’s when he’ll tell you. That’s when he’ll tell you that he wants more than the angry, hateful late-night rendezvous in his room or yours. He wants more than sitting around waiting for you to come home from a date while he nearly goes insane with jealousy. He wants more of you. Fuck, he wants all of you.

Just as you’re coming undone on his thigh while moaning his name and squeezing his shoulders, he lets his hands snake underneath your little plaid skirt. He grips your ass with both hands, digging his fingertips into the supple skin there as he leans into your neck. You feel him take a deep breath in as you’re coming down from your orgasm high.

“Why do you always smell so fucking good?” He asks, licking a small stripe up the side of your neck before pressing his lips against it in a soft kiss. You only hum lightly in response, your brain not quite ready to formulate a full sentence. Bucky presses a second kiss to your neck, and then a third as his works his way up to your lips. His hands move to smooth over the fabric of that little skirt that he can’t seem to get over. “Stay away from the fireplace this week. I can’t have you burning this skirt.”

TAG LIST: @sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @thealloveru2 @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @wishingforwonderland @mrsjoequinn @nixxaswrld @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @fandomsfeminismandme @missadored

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #winter soldier #the winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel

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mahgyu · 3 months

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Thinking about Nanami, who always warned her not to be upset if he didn't cry during their wedding ceremony.

Yes, it's obvious that he loves her more than anything in the world. He would face anyone to keep her safe above all else, but Nanami doesn't consider herself the type to express her emotions through the crying, whether they are good or bad.

So, as the wedding date approaches, Nanami begins to prevent any possible disappointment, trying to reassure her that, even if he doesn't cry at their wedding, he will be more than happy and fulfilled with the occasion. You clearly wouldn't expect anything like that from him, but Nanami started to fear that you might find him a bit rude for not getting emotional during the most important day of your lives. But, you and Nanami have been together long enough for you to know every aspect of him, knowing him from the first strand of hair to the last toe. You would never find him rude for dealing with his emotions in his own way.

However, we truly only know how to deal with situations when they are happening before our eyes. Holding the wedding ceremony on the beach was of both decision, just for close family and friends. Nanami stood beneath the altar, trying to cope with the growing anxiety as he heard the wedding march begin to play. In the distance, you appeared, resembling a princess from a fairy tale, the one and only and exclusive princess of Kento Nanami.

Time stood still, the entire journey of you two together flashed through Nanami's mind. He never believed he would live this, always dedicating his life solely to work and refraining from relationships. He doesn't even dare to think what would become of him if you had never accidentally bumped into him at the bakery Nanami frequented. The icing from your cake that ended up staining Nanami's suit also marked the beginning of your conjugal life.

All Nanami had in mind now was to build a family with you, to move to a peaceful environment in a big enough house to comfortably accommodate all the children he dreams of having, to come home from work and be greeted by the people he loves most and lives for. And as he grows older, to carefully enjoy what remains of life alongside the family he built, next to the woman he loved the most and with whom he could share every dream fulfilled.

And after all, Nanami was mistaken, tears trickled slowly down his face, clouding your smiling image that was coming towards him.

When you joined him at the altar, with the sunset kissing your face, your eyes shining with tears that also flooded them, and your smile that would be able to bring Nanami back to life, Kento could swear that this would be the image that he would carry with him forever and ever.

"I thought you said you wouldn't cry," you break the silence jokingly while holding one of Nanami's slightly trembling hands and, with your other hand, wiping the glistening drops off the man's cheeks. "You can't blame me for loving too much," he responds, smiling genuinely, while briefly kissing your forehead.

The truth is Gojo would be sitting in the front row, crying even louder and more dramatically than the bride and groom themselves while blowing his nose with a handkerchief ( ˃ ᵕ ˂ )

Let me know what you think of it. Comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

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savicals · 22 days

Text

New neighbour König x afab reader

*König is your new neighbour, who you thought mildly disliked you.

Your first interaction with him wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t particularly rude, though. I mean, what 6”11 Austrian army recruit do you know that is a ray of sunshine?

You greeted him politely as he strode over to his door, but he looked over to you and tossed you a half-nod as he took half of his boxes inside in one trip. He barely spared you a good look, but he looked exactly the type.

He also looked exactly your type.

One of your windows overlooked his, so on occasion you would both catch each other’s gaze before König quickly averted his first. It made you smile, just knowing you got to share a quick moment.

Thats why it was so embarrassing.

So embarrassing when you were raving to your friend about how attractive he is, how big he is, how muscular and how you just know that he’s big there, too, he walked past.

He absolutely spared you a glance this time. As he walked past, his piercing eyes were fixated on you, and whether or not it was in disdain or interest, you had no idea.

Either way, it sent shivers up your spine.

He walked past after breaking your intense eye contact as if nothing had happened, but your face told another story. Shrouded in embarrassment, your face turned beet red and you tried to hide your face as your friend burst out laughing at you.

It’s been weeks now, and you hadn’t seen König once during. You figured he had just been deployed again since he worked in the army or something.

It was like that for months. The endless, very few ‘neutral’ interactions with him. You assumed he was at the very best indifferent towards you. But little did you know, behind those doors, König would be fucking his own hand like a madman thinking about you. Every time he caught you gardening in shorts that were a little too tight or in a skirt a little too short, he would have to stay home, to hide from you almost. Just to control himself.

Of course, you had no idea. You acted like you knew what you would be doing with the way you spoke to your friends, but you were still a touch-starved virgin at the end of the day. That didn’t stop you from fantasising about König, though.

You had no idea how much you were teasing him. You didn’t think he paid you any attention whatsoever.

Until you went out drinking with your friend. Some sleaze-ball was hitting on you and her nonstop, despite both of you telling him to go away and go home.

You were somewhat drunk, so you confronted the entitled prick. Unbeknownst to you at first, none other than König loomed over you from behind, glaring at the other male and filling him with fear and submission. You thought you had successfully driven him away, until you got an inkling to turn around.

The gift from God named König stood over you and your friend, glaring still at the male. He didn’t move until he knew he was gone and finally switched his attention to the two people in front of him. All you could do was stare at him in awe until he broke the silence.

“Are you… ok?” He said, talking to both of you. His voice was so deep, coated in masculinity and so gravelly.

Of course, you were starstruck. No way could you have said a word in your current state that wasn’t inherently sexual, so your friend answered for both of you.

You managed a choked out “Thank you,” a few minutes after, before he offered to take the both of you home.

[P2 out!]

#savicals #könig mw2 #könig x y/n #konig cod #konig x reader #könig call of duty #könig x reader #konig smut #konig x you #könig x you #konig call of duty #könig smut #könig cod

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newfallstrangeleaves · 8 months

Text

Masked Yandere with an unknown identity

Magic bullet

M!Yander X F!Reader Warning: Druging reader, non-con, NSFW, P in V, Oral (F receiving), slight somnophilia. Summary: Its the winner of this poll. The man with the mask gets you a drug that makes you unable to move your body but you can still feel everything he does to you. Authors note: It really took some time to get it up :( sorry

If this were any other occasion, this would not be happening. He would check your apartment to make sure nothing was wrong or that no one other than himself where within your proximity. But word spread of a drug, something even he caught on to and now can't stop himself from getting his hands on.

That this is the right alley is only a guess. The directions were unclear and he had spent nearly three nights just wandering to hopefully run into the right people. But it's been hard having to choose between anonymity and direction. The mask is a good protection, but it’s also a deterrent. It doesn't matter who you are and where you are from, everyone agrees that if you meet something that frightens you, you turn and walk the other way.

But tonight the hard work bears fruit. At the far end of the alley stands three men, they are tense and seem to be waiting for him. When he approaches they act cool, buffing their chests out and blowing cigarette smoke his way.

“Heard you looking for something.” One of them says.

“Yeah, you have it?”

“Whoa, boy calm down, why you in a hurry? Are you scared or something?” If this is an intimation tactic it's not working. On the contrary, he is feeling rather bothered.

“Yes, actually I am. I have the money, you got the stuff or not?”

“Here.” One of the guys with a pretty nasty black eye holds up a bag with white powder in it. Its snapped out of his hand before he even had time to react.

“HEY!”

“So this is the stuff?” He holds the bag away from the guy with the black eye.

“Yes, You know, we will be nice to you today and let this pass, but if you grab stuff like that again-”

“Do you want the money or not?”

“Hand it over.”

He brings out a hefty amount of bundled-up money. He holds it between the two of them for a second before he throws it to the side and lands right into a puddle.

“Go, take it. I thought you wanted it.” The man glares at him, but it's hard to do with only one eye.

“Your dead, you know that.” But before anyone has time to react, with a swift motion he tackles the guy with the black eye to the ground. His moans in pain are enough to make the other two back off.

With the drugs secured, he is off to your apartment.

Your apartment has never been too difficult to get into. With the copy of your key back in his pocket, he heads for the bedroom. Just to see you. Despite it not being long between the meetings, things still tend to feel lonely.

Coming home to an empty apartment, cooking and winding off for the day all in solitude. And even now, caressing your sleeping face he wishes for things to be different. To have you and to have you as his very own.

But today the drugs will have to do. He can already feel his cock hardening at the thought of being inside you. Eagerly he heads for the kitchen. He tries to be as quiet as possible so as to not wake you as he pours you a glass of your favorite juice. He contemplates for a second before he decides that half of it will do.

With the spiked drink in hand, he gently strokes your face, this time with the full intention of waking you.

“Hey, wake up darling, I just need you for a second.” He can't contain himself for chuckling at your confused face, how cute you look when you're startled. “I just need you to drink this.”

“What? What is it?” He helps you to a sitting position before he, as gently and firmly as he can, grabs your jaw to keep your face in place. He knew before going into this that you would never agree to drink his concoction.

You struggle at first, your hands trying to grab at anything to get the glass away. But you're losing the battle and as you fight to not choke on the liquid, you drink most of it. Some spills down on your clothes and comforter but it's nothing that you will be using anyway.

You cough and gasp for air as he places the glass calmly on the table.

“What was that??” You're panicking, he can tell.

“Shhh, it's okay, you know I will never do anything to harm you. I tell you this all the time.” He wraps his arms around you and lays you back down on the bed. His arms and legs pinning you in place. You are opposing and pleas to let go go unheard, he just hushes you and strokes your hair to calm you, it doesn't take long for the drugs to kick in. All of a sudden your arms lose their strength and fall flat to the side. Your eyes are the last thing that shuts but when they do he can't contain himself anymore.

“I know you can still hear me so don't be scared. Now, I'm sorry I drugged you, it will wear off eventually, until then if figured we could have some special time together. Try something new.” His words get more and more breathy with every word. Arousal is getting the better of him.

The first thing that comes off is his mask, how he has been aching to feel his lips against yours. He is smiling into the kiss, his breath fanning your face. Though your lips don't give his anything in return just the feeling of you is enough, for now. Then it's the gloves that fall to the floor. He doesn't want to leave one speck of your skin untouched by his lips and his hands when this night is over.

He gives your lips one quick peck before he travels down. His lips glaze over your neck, and he trails a few kisses over your collarbones. He is too eager to stop just there, he wants what's further down. Gently he lifts the oversized shirt you're sporting as night clothes, over your head.

He goes straight for one of your breasts. His tongue goes over and around your nipple, sucking and biting gently. He gives one side a few minutes before he switches. When he deems them done he turns his attention to the only piece of clothing still covering you. With a quick motion, it's thrown to the side and you're back to how he loves you. Bare before him.

“I promise you, my love. I will make you feel so good. So good, so so good.” He pushes your legs apart taking in the scene before him, your beauty is astounding. “You don't understand how much I've looked forward to tasting you.”

His tongue works away eagerly at your core. He starts at the clit, working you up, wetness already leaking out of you and he laps it up. He adds a finger, you're still rather tight but with every movement and every lick, you're relaxing.

Then when he goes back to focusing on your clit and with a second finger inside you he hears it. A tiny whine escapes your lips. It spurs him on so much that he thinks for a moment he might be pushed over to climax over it. Almost.

But he is determined to push you over yours first and he does. Your breath hitches as you squeeze around his fingers. Oh, how he looks forward to you doing that to his cock. As you settle back down he can feel his cock aching in his pants. Without a moment of hesitation, he throws off everything.

“I feel so exposed.” He says and chuckles. “Even though you can't see me.” He lines his body up with yours, his cock hard and throbbing in between the two of you. But he holds back, instead, he kisses you.

“I don't know why I'm hesitating now. I guess it's because I kind of wanted…More, if that makes sense.” He sighs. “But it's really your own fault. I would have never done this to you if you'd just accepted me, and allowed me to be with you fully, I wouldn't have taken such drastic measures. …But let's not worry about that now.”

His forehead meets yours as he looks down. He lines his cock up to your entrance. He pushes in slowly to not overwhelm you, but it's still tight. He groans and a moan slips your lips.

“Maybe I've been too secretive, holding my identity intact and away from you for fear of rejection. Though I know you never would reject me, even if you wanted to. Because we both know you love this.” He pushes slowly in, bottoming out as he speaks. “Youre..Fuck…Feels so good.”

His trusts are slow at first. He is using every fiber within him not to either rail you right into the mattress or to cum right this second. But it doesn't take long for him to amp up the pace. The wet sounds from where the two of you connect and the whines that constantly leave your lips. It could be the drugs starting to wear off, but he doesn't miss the way your eyebrows twitch together and that your moans come more frequently now.

But he is too into it to care now, too in the moment to care about whether the drugs are wearing off or not. He feels you tightening around him and miraculously he pulls through your orgasm, keeping his own intact.

“I want another…Please…Give me another one.” He mumbles into your ear, sweat dripping down his brow. He continues until he feels you tightening up once again, this time his release comes before yours. The way your pussy squeezes around him a second time makes him lose it. But despite feeling spent he fights through your high with sloppy thrusts. The overstimulation feels like a reward.

He pulls out just to drop down on your chest, resting his head between your breasts. He lays there and listens to your steady heartbeat for just a moment. Then he worms his arms around you and rolls over on his back with you on top.

“I want to clean you today.” He whispers into the top of your head. “You know, really take care of you now after I've had my fun.”

He looks over the bed, the bedding having been thrown on the floor and he sighs. Feeling contempt with you in his arms, this is where you belong, where you always should be.

“Maybe that could wait a moment or two.” But just as he says that he can see your fingers moving slowly. You are getting the control over your body back and with that pops the bubble he wanted to stay a little longer in. “Or not.”

He gently lifts you off him and goes to get his belongings together. He gives you a quick clean and a peck to your lips before he is out the door just in time for you to slowly sit up and open your eyes.

#male yandere #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere noncon #noncon drugging #tw drugging

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emmyrosee · 1 year

Text

It’s not common to see Atsumu fuming.

Genuine anger, not the petty shit he throws at you when he decides he wants to be an obnoxious turd to yourself or his brother.

You can tell the difference, too, because a petulant pout and attitude is plastered on that pretty face of his, but when he’s genuinely mad, there’s no attitude; it’s just raw emotion and lips pulled in a straight line, his chest giving irregular, short breaths because he can’t breathe. It’s almost scary, but it happens so little that you’ve learned to manage it when it does happen.

This is one of those rare occasions you have no clue which he’s feeling.

The car door outside slams shut, sending a nervous chill up your spine, but it’s immediately squashed when you hear Hisako’s innocent laughter. You smile and turn towards the now opening door, and you give atsumu a fake, sympathetic look when his thick brows are furrowed in frustration. On his leg, Hisako’s tiny arms are wrapped around him, her legs locked around his ankle and her smile that’s missing a tooth is beaming up at him.

“You,” he scolds, looking down at his menace of a six year old. “Go upstairs. And don’t come out until you’re seventy-eight.”

“Can I hug mommy first?”

“If you must,” he growls. With that, Hisako quickly bounds over to you and reaches her arms up for a hug, and while you give her one, you watch as Atsumu paces the floor, cards his hair, chews on his cuticles, anything to make him calm down.

“Daddy’s mad,” she whispers in your ear.

You offer her a snort, “I know.” With a kiss to her head you plant her back to her feet and nudge her to go into her room, waiting until to door closes before you turn back to your husband.

“Atsumu-“

“I’m not ready for this,” he growls. “The little traitor, I can’t believe she’d do this to me- my own flesh and blood.”

“Don’t word it like that, you make it sound like she committed arson or something.”

He softens and pouts like a dog; clearly, whatever it is, it’s taking a toll, and you sigh before you walk over and plant a kiss to his forehead. “Whatever it was, I know it wasn’t on purpose; what happened?”

“She’s just not ready, okay, she just doesn’t know-“

“Sweetheart, you need to let me in here-“

“He was holding her hand!” He whines, scrubbing his face with his hands. “They-They-They were holding hands! I thought I had a few more years to prepare for this shit! Wanted to wait before I put the fear back into these damn boys! I can’t fight a six year old!”

You pause. You retract your hand and give him an absolute smirk.

“You’re kidding me?”

“Sure ain’t!” He barks, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s so mad his forehead vein makes itself known with a sheen of sweat. “Tomorrow, I’m going to that damned school, and I’m moving her classes!”

“Honey,” you say sweetly, gently grabbing his arm to ground him. “It’s okay; I’m the one who told her to be nice to this boy.”

Instantly, his head whips in betrayal. His eyes are blown wide, muscles tense and despite how angry he looks, he can’t find the words to convey it.

“YOU WHAT?”

You shake your head, “she asked me why she feels butterflies in her tummy when she sees him.” To try and soothe him, you hook your head over his shoulder and bat your eyes innocently, “and I told her that it’s the same feeling I get when I see you-“

“Don’t try to be sweet, I’m mad at you,” he snarls, but there’s a softness in his eye that makes you think he’s not as serious as he thinks he comes across. A massive hand cards through his hair and he looks up to the sky as if to ask for patience. “I can’t believe this. My two babies, the loves of my life, betraying me in such juvenile ways.”

“Atsumu, spell juvenile,” you challenge.

“Spell ‘no’,” he grumbles. You sigh and gently grab his arm to pull him to the couch, and for a few seconds he puts up a small fight, but does end up giving into you in the end.

“Sweetie, listen to me,” you soothe. “Hisako is six. She’s going to start having little crushes soon enough-“

“Fuck, stop reminding me,” he whines.

You shake your head and rub a soothing hand on his back. “And all we can do is let her express those feelings in healthy ways; it’s what we’ve always done.”

“What if he hurts her?”

“He’s six.”

“What if he breaks her heart?”

“I’m sure she’ll cope.”

“What if he-“

“Atsumu.” Your hands squish his cheeks. “Calm down; she’s going to be okay.” You smile and kiss his pouted lips, “you remember what it was like having a crush at school-“

“Excuse you,” he grumbles from his squished cheeks, shaking his head from your grip. “I’ve only ever been in love with you.”

“You’ve told me about your relationship with Rintaro, trust me, that was a crush.”

“Was not!”

“Was too.”

“Was not!”

“It absolutely was.” You smile warmly, “and that’s fine. But now, you need to let her experience the same thing. She’s a big girl. Besides,” you nudge your nose with his, “you’ll always be her favorite man.”

“That’s actually Osamu, but I appreciate it.” Your words do seem to calm him down however, and he wraps a big arm around you to settle into the couch, “I just love her, baby… just want her to be safe.”

“I know; and she will be.”

The silence you get comfortable in gets interrupted by the door to your home getting flung open, and while you jump in the air in shock, next to you, Atsumu chuckles.

“Speaking of the devil.”

“What did you-“

Before you can say anything, Miya Osamu suddenly stands in the middle of your living room, the hat on his head tampered with and his apron turn on his hip, his head lined with sweat as if he ran here. Your jaw slacks in surprise, “Osamu, you did not leave work to come here-“

“WHAT STUPID LITTLE SNOT WAS HOLDING HER HAND?”

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 9 months

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Three.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky get closer. Your choice only gets harder.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au.

Word Count - 6.4k

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut. cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Author's Note - angels, i can only apologise for the wait!! i've had some stuff going on, and i was on vacation, so this has taken a while. thank you so much for your patience, kindness and support on Honey Girl - it means everything.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! i will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sunlight seeps through the stained glass windows, murmured chatter echoing off the stone walls around you.

You smooth down your dress and adjust your bracelet, smiling at the rare sight of your family and friends all gathered together in one place. Your parents are sat on either side of you, all of you eagerly awaiting the beginning of this exciting occasion.

Man, you love weddings. You always have. So much happiness and joy in one short day, everyone excited about the possibility of eternal love.

You're still sat waiting when you realise, with quiet uncertainty, that you're not sure whose wedding this is. All of your family is here, as well as many of your friends. So why do you feel so confused all of a sudden?

The Priest gestures for all of the guests to stand just as the first notes of the Wedding March begin to reverberate around the room. You turn around, craning your neck to try and get a glimpse of the bride.

You don't know her, but she's... beautiful. Long, dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, white silk dress hugging her frame perfectly, accentuating every dip and curve. She has kind eyes, warm and brown, and a blinding smile that's infectious and dazzling. Her skin glows in the stained glass sunlight, illuminating her in an ethereal radiance. She has a beauty that belongs on the cover of a magazine, or on the ceilings of the Sistine Chapel.

You eagerly turn back towards the altar to find out who her lucky groom is. He has his back to you, dark suit stretched across his broad shoulders. He turns, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips.

It's Bucky.

You're panicking, suddenly. You want to scream, shout, run over to them and object in any way possible. Your Mom grabs your hand tightly from one side, as your Dad does the same on the other.

"Mama, I have to-"

"You can't, sweetheart. It's not fair."

"You made your choice," your Dad says kindly, not an ounce of malice in his voice. "Now you have to let him make his."

White hot tears drip down your cheeks as your chest rises and falls with frantic frustration. This isn't how you wanted things to go. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The lights in the church are suddenly too bright, the wooden pews too hard. There's an incessant knocking noise coming from somewhere in front of you, loud and overwhelming. You swear someone's shouting your name in the distance, among all of the chaos.

"Honey? It's Bucky. Are you okay?"

Why is he asking if you're okay? Of course you're not okay, you're in this living nightmare.

Nightmare.

You're having a nightmare.

You wake with a startled gasp, cheeks wet and warm, sweat dripping down your back. The knocking hasn't stopped, in fact, now it's even louder.

"Sugar? Are you in there? Can you let me in?"

It's Bucky. Bucky's here.

You throw yourself out of bed and race through your apartment, swinging open the door. Bucky is stood on the other side, still in his navy plaid pyjama pants, sweater thrown over himself haphazardly. You look down at yourself and see that you're only wearing an old t shirt, legs bare and feet cold on the wooden floor.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently, stepping forward into your space. "I had this horrible feeling. It was like... like I was panicking. I knew it wasn't me so I figured it must have been you. What's wrong, sweets?"

He snakes his fingers around your wrist and pulls you into him gently, wrapping his arms around you completely. You relax into his embrace, inhaling the warm, cosy scent of him. All the fear leaves your body, and you cling to him tighter, worried that he'll disappear any minute.

"I had a nightmare," you whisper into the soft cotton of his chest.

He pulls back to look at you, large, calloused hands cradling your tear stained cheeks.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You deliberate for a second before shaking your head softly.

"If you change your mind, you know I'll always listen to you. Any time. I mean it."

"I know," you say quietly. "Thank you."

You step away from him and towards the couch, where you curl up with your legs tucked underneath you. Bucky walks over to the kitchen, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. He makes two mugs of tea, handing one into your outstretched hands carefully. He shuffles to sit next to you, pressed into your side, arm slung around your shoulders. You relax into the broadness of him, the comfort he brings, the safety. The two of you fall asleep intertwined, warm and content, wrapped completely in each other and the blanket of your love.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're both startled awake by a phone ringing. The unwelcome melody is coming from somewhere between where you're nestled together, limbs intertwined and bodies connected.

"It's-fuck- is that mine or yours?" Bucky's mumbling as he scrambles amongst the couch cushions.

"Yours, I think," you reply, finding your phone on the floor where you've kicked it in your sleep.

Bucky finally finds the source of the noise, trapped in the arm of the couch. He presses the green button reluctantly, still disorientated from being woken so suddenly.

"Hello?"

That deep, raspy grumble of his morning voice is enough to make you melt back into your original position, the tone golden and honeyed. You slide back towards him and tuck yourself into his side, the two of you fitting together perfectly.

You can hear muffled talking on the other end, which takes Bucky a minute to comprehend. When he does, his eyes widen, and he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

It's your Dad, he mouths silently, muscles in his body going rigid.

Fuck, you mouth back, praying that he can't hear the two sets of heaving lungs on your side of the line.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be there. Sounds good, man. See you then."

Bucky's about to hang up the phone, when your Dad makes a noise of complaint. You can hear your Mom yelling something at him in the background.

"They're coming here," he whispers to you as quietly as possible, covering the phone speaker. "Fuck, what do we do?"

"Tell them you're already here... borrowing something. Or giving something back."

You shoot him a look that says trust me. Trust you, he does.

"I'm with her right now. I can ask, if you want? Yeah, just dropping off a couple of tools - last time I saw her, she mentioned a few loose screws in one of the kitchen cabinets. Easy fix."

You can hear your Dad singing his praises and expressing his gratitude, and your Mom asking Bucky to put you on the phone. He passes it to you carefully, as if it's a bomb, bound to explode at any given second.

"Hi, Mama."

"Hey, sweetheart. Bucky get everything sorted for you?"

"Oh, yeah. He's been great. Fixed it in two minutes flat. I just didn't have the right kind of screwdriver."

"He's one of the good ones, huh?" she chuckles. "We called to tell you that you have to come to our get together later. I know it's a little impromptu, but we have so much produce from the garden, too much for just us. We'll have dinner in the backyard, and drinks, and play some games. And we'll tell you all about the wedding!"

Your Mother has a gift for hosting. She's a people person through and through, warm hearted and kind spirited in nature. She loves having people over at the house, loves cooking for them, loves choosing wine pairings for her dishes and explaining each one carefully. It's a gift. She's a gift.

"I'd love to come, Mama. Do you want me to bring anything? I can make desserts?"

"Oh, darling, would you? I'm making a strawberry and cream tart, but you know it's nothing compared to your talent."

"Oh hush," you chide playfully. "I'll see what I can conjure up. Maybe I'll even rope Bucky in to help."

You wink at him cheekily and he laughs, the sound settling gently in your ribs like a caged bird singing it's morning song.

"Glad to be of service!" he yells into the phone, his right hand moving to rest at the nape of your neck. He massages the muscle there gently, and the tension leaves your body just as quick as it arrived.

"What time, Mama?"

"Everyone's arriving at seven o'clock, but you and Bucky feel free to come any time. Did you hear that, Bucky? Any time!"

"Loud and clear," he chuckles. "See you soon, Lori."

"Bye, you two. Call if you need anything. Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too."

She hangs up the phone and you're plunged into silence, the two of you panting like you've just ran a marathon.

"Fuck," Bucky breathes.

"Yeah, fuck," you exhale. "Now my parents think I'm not capable of fixing a loose screw."

"It was the first thing I thought of! Sorry, honey. Didn't mean to undermine your DIY skills."

You fake angry, but you can't keep it up while he's looking at you like you hung the moon just for him. The corners of your lips twitch, and before you know it, you're grinning at each other like idiots.

"Now I have to make dessert," you laugh. "There go my plans for the day."

"You offered."

"I panicked!"

"I'll give you a hand, if you need it. I don't have to be at work for another hour and a half."

"It's okay," you reassure, reaching out to link your fingers with his. He's still absentmindedly tracing patterns across the back of your neck, the sensation almost soothing you back to sleep.

You relax into Bucky, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. He's so warm, and soft, and broad. You realise that there's been two occasions recently where you've slept like the dead. Both were in Bucky's arms.

"You wanna help me make breakfast?" you whisper, careful not to disrupt the golden glow of the morning sunlight. The orange hue of the room feels fragile, sacred even. You don't want to ruin it.

"Of course. I can't bake, but I can cook. I have my uses."

"That, you do," you tease, leaning back into him as he places a tender kiss on top of your head. If you could bottle up this feeling of complete tranquility, you would. For a moment, everything else disappears. It's just you and your soulmate. Nothing else matters.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bucky, as it turns out, is a decent chef.

Sure, he's not Michelin star level, but neither are you.

You're sat on the counter, bare legs dangling over the side as you watch him move around your kitchen with ease, as if it's his own. You can't help but notice the way he belongs here. Like he's been here all along.

Bucky leaves everything cooking on the stove to come to stand in between your legs, warm hands splayed across your thighs. He rubs comforting circles into your skin while his steely blue eyes look at you intently.

"You okay?"

You smile at him softly, draping your arms around his neck to play with his hair.

"I'm fine."

You're not fine. The words California and Bakery and Dream Job and Bucky keep circling around your mind like horses on a fairground carousel. The more time you spend with Bucky, the more your Tethering makes sense. The two of you work. This connection you have is made of threads of gold, braided into both of your souls.

"You've been quiet all morning. And... I can feel it, you know. This anxious, sinking feeling, deep in my chest. There's something really bothering you, honey."

You take a deep breath and grasp onto his shoulders tightly, grounding yourself back down to Earth.

"I'm okay. There's just a couple of things I need to work out, and I think they're giving me some anxiety. I'm just stressed, I think."

"Are you trying to convince yourself, or me? Because you're not doing a very good job of either."

He's only teasing, but the way he's looking at you makes your breath hitch. It's as if everytime he looks into your eyes, he's also looking into your soul. It's like he can read your mind. Your heart is covered in braille and he's running his fingertips over it gently. You suddenly feel very exposed, shrinking down into yourself on the counter.

"Hey, pretty girl. Look at me. Please."

He uses his finger and thumb to tilt your face towards him, holding onto your chin gently.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to push you, or anything. I'm just worried. It's weird, being able to feel what you feel. I think I'm still getting used to it."

You smile at him carefully, running your fingers over the stubble on his cheeks.

"I appreciate you looking out for me, Buck. It's just... overwhelming, I guess. Nothing's a secret between me and you anymore."

You both know that's not true.

"You know, if there's anyone who understands how you feel... it's me."

"You're right," you laugh, "on account of the whole half-of-my-soul thing, I guess."

"Exactly. It's scary, but you're not alone in this. The two of us will figure it out. I know we will."

He has so much faith in you it makes you want to cry.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, firm and reassuring. It's like he's reminding you that he's right here, in front of you. He's not going anywhere.

You might be, though.

"We've got all the time in the world, remember?" he murmurs against your mouth.

"All the time in the world," you echo, tucking your head into his chest.

He holds you close until your breakfast starts to burn. The impending fire on the stove is nothing compared to the impending fire that feels like your future.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you eat on your balcony, tangled together on the love seat chair. The sun is beating down, beams of light illuminating Bucky, setting him aglow. He looks like an angel, the golden hue creating a halo around him. You wonder for a second if he is. An angel sent just for you.

"Oh hey, did I tell you?" he asks, turning as much as he can in his spot to face you.

"Tell me what?"

"Leonie and Eli are having a baby."

"No way!" you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his hands in excitement. "I'm so happy for them. Man, it feels like yesterday that they found each other."

"Right? Hell of a story, too."

"Rough one, though. I mean, imagine it. You introduce your brother to your new girlfriend, and turns out they're soulmates."

Bucky's laughing so hard that he's clutching at his stomach, shaking the chair and you along with it.

"That's fucked," he wheezes. "It's so fucked."

You can't contain your own laughter, not when his is so contagious.

"It's not funny," you breathe, but you're giggling so hard your sides hurt.

"Not funny at all," he chuckles, pinching your thigh.

"If you think about it, our Tethering is a little fucked up too. I mean, you're my Dad's best friend."

"Yeah... not ideal, huh?" he teases, still laughing.

"Not ideal at all, really," you agree playfully.

You sit in the quiet for a moment before you speak again.

"What do you think they'll say? When we tell them, eventually?"

Bucky thinks for a moment, cogs turning in his brain. He considers carefully before he answers you.

"...I think they'll be happy for us. Your Mom'll be excited. It might be a little harder for your Dad to navigate, I guess, but... he'll be okay."

"Yeah. You're probably right."

The rational part of your brain is telling you that he is. They'll be ecstatic that the two of you have found your person. The celebrations will be endless.

But there's a tiny, nagging piece of your mind that won't let you rest. It's taunting you, telling you that they're going to be confused, shocked, upset. That they won't accept the two of you. You can't lose them over a soulmate. You won't.

You clear your throat and stand from your spot, picking up your empty plates.

"Don't you have to be at work soon? I doubt you can show up in pajamas."

"I'm the boss, pretty girl. I can wear whatever the hell I want."

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he relents.

"Fine. I need to change. But I'll see you later? At your Mom's?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll see you there."

You walk Bucky to the door, opening it expectantly. He looks at you for a moment too long, still unconvinced by your reassurances from earlier.

"If you need anything, just call me. You know you can talk to me anytime, yeah?"

"Yeah," you confirm, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his t shirt. "I know, Buck. Thanks."

He leans in to kiss your forehead before leaving you in the doorway, more confused than ever.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You commit your day to baking your feelings away.

As soon as Bucky left your apartment, the space felt empty, incomplete. Much like you do. As much as you hate to admit it, you feel better when Bucky is around. You know it's the whole Tethering thing, but still. Your heart feels fuller, the world seems brighter, the sun on your skin is warmer. Everything's easier when your soulmate is next to you.

You click on the radio, a soft, jazzy melody filling your kitchen. You begin to measure your ingredients, picking up bowls, utensils and your piping bags as you go.

This is the only thing you've ever felt like you were made to do. Sure, you've had hobbies as you've grown up. You're a good swimmer, you enjoyed soccer, you weren't too bad at dance. But nothing compared to baking.

Which at first, sounded ridiculous. Grown ups would ask you what you wanted to be when you were older, and when you said Baker, they'd laugh in that patronising way that adults do. It didn't stop you, though.

Your Grandma bought you a half empty recipe book for your tenth birthday. You can create your own and add them, she'd said. You'll be publishing a book with your name on in no time.

Your parents took you on a European vacation when you were sixteen. In Amsterdam, you passed this tiny little bakery, tucked away down a back street. It was red brick with a big window in the front, showcasing the cakes and endless sweet treats they had to offer. When you peered through the glass, you watched as the woman who you assumed was the owner went about her day. She looked so happy to be serving her customers. You decided then and there that was going to be you one day. A Bakery of your own. A happy life.

Which is why you're having such a hard time. You haven't talked to Stella since she called you, and you're worried she's going to change her mind if she doesn't hear from you soon. You haven't talked to Bucky about it either, even though he presented you with opportunity after opportunity this morning. It's starting to feel like the walls are caving in.

So, you do what you do best. Bake.

The day passes by quicker than anticipated, lost in a cloud of cinnamon and powdered sugar. You're wiping down your counters when your phone rings, Bucky's name lighting up your screen.

"Hi, Buck."

"Hey, pretty baby. You want me to pick you up later? I'm passing your place anyway."

He's always thinking of you so selflessly. The thought makes your heart stutter for a moment.

"You sure you don't mind?"

"Course not. I can drop by at six? Gives us enough time to help your Mom set up."

"Sounds perfect. Thanks, Buck."

"See you then, honey."

You hang up the phone and realise the hours have completely escaped you. You jump in the shower and do your hair and makeup in record time, miraculously. You're stood in a towel in front of your closet when you feel Bucky pull up outside. The tension in your chest eases a little, and you take a deep, full breath. He knocks on the door, and you completely relax.

"Hey, you," he greets, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

You take a step back to look at him, and almost lose your balance. He looks ridiculously handsome. He's wearing a dark short sleeve button up that hugs his biceps so tightly, you're worried it might burst open. His jeans cling to his thighs deliciously, and the leather jacket slung over his shoulder adds a ruggedness that most men couldn't pull off. Your eyes rake over him slowly, taking him in from top to bottom. He lets you devour him, smirk never leaving his lips. Eventually, you meet his gaze.

"You see something you like?"

"You clean up real nice, Barnes," you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

You untangle yourself from him before you jump his bones, and walk back to your closet. He follows you and sits on the edge of your bed, watching your every move like a hawk.

You pick out a sage green sundress that skims your thighs and hugs you in all the right places. It's a warm night, and your Mom loves to start a bonfire when it's cold.

"Close your eyes, playboy," you scold jokingly, laughing when he flops backwards to stare at your ceiling.

You slip the dress on, and realise it has a zipper at the back that you can't reach.

"Buck? Can you zip me up, please?"

He rises from his spot on the bed and strides over to you, standing a little closer than necessary. He pulls the zip upwards ever so slowly, fingertips brushing your spine as he goes. He's so warm and so broad behind you that it sends a shiver through your body.

Bucky brushes your hair to one side and leans down to press a featherlight kiss the place where your neck meets your shoulder. You hum in contentment, which only spurs him on. He begins to leave kisses wherever he pleases - your shoulder, your neck, behind your ear. You practically melt into him, and he wraps his arms around you to keep you steady.

"You look so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen."

You smile at his words, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder.

"Says the man that looks like a goddamn supermodel."

"Oh, angel. Now you're just lying to me."

His chuckle rumbles through the both of you, the sound lighting up your nerve endings.

Your eyes flick across the room, where you notice the clock on the wall.

"Baby," you whisper. "You gotta stop. We're gonna be late."

He groans lowly and lets his head loll into the crease of your shoulder.

"I was fine until you called me baby," he murmurs. "Now that's all I'm gonna be thinking about for the rest of the night."

"Sorry."

"You're not."

"I'm not."

You both laugh and untangle yourselves, you moving to put on your shoes while Bucky straightens himself out.

"You gonna be able to keep your hands to yourself, lover boy?"

"I'm gonna have to," he grumbles, trying to hide the smile that's fighting to take over his face.

You lean against him as you do up the straps of your shoes, dancing your fingers down his arm to interlink your hands.

"Ready?" you ask, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Ready," he confirms, leaning down to kiss you chastely.

"A night of pretending that we're not soulmates. How hard can that be?"

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Pretending that Bucky isn't your soulmate is one of the hardest things you've ever done.

You haven't even made it inside yet.

Buck parks his truck in your parents driveway and turns to look at you. You've been silent the entire ride over, and it's making him anxious. He reaches over and places a warm palm on your bare thigh, thumb rubbing patterns back and forth.

"You okay?"

You take a deep breath, which is all the answer he needs.

"It's alright, baby. I'm nervous too. We've got this. We're alright."

You look into his eyes for the first time since you were in your apartment, and have to fight to stop yourself from crying. You nod and bite your lip, inhaling and exhaling carefully.

"You're okay. I promise. It's me and you, honey girl. It's me and you."

You want to crawl over into Bucky's lap and bury your face in his chest. You want to curl up in his strong arms and let his scent envelope you. You want to tangle your fingers into his hair and smash his lips to yours, until you don't know where you end and Bucky begins.

Instead, you bring his hand from your thigh to your lips, and kiss each of his knuckles tenderly. The gesture makes his heart beat so fast, he's a little worried he's about to pass out.

"Come and talk to me anytime tonight, okay? I've got you. I've always got you."

You nod again, and take another deep breath.

"I know, Buck. It's the only thing I'm sure of."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"My baby!"

Your Mom smothers you in a hug the minute you knock on the door, almost tipping you over in the process.

"Oh, you look so beautiful. This colour is gorgeous on you, sweetheart."

The heaviness of your heart gets a little lighter at the sight of your Mother. She's magic like that.

"Thanks Mama. Is your skirt new? It's pretty."

She gives you a twirl, the skirt billowing around her like a princess. Both you and Bucky smile when you catch each others eyes briefly.

"I got it on our trip! Your Dad got a new shirt too - he looks so handsome."

She's grinning from ear to ear talking about him. Your smile only gets wider.

Bucky gives your Mom a one armed hug, and hands her a white box with a bow on.

"I wish I could say this is from me, but I don't have nearly enough talent for that."

"You're plenty good at other things, Buck," she laughs. "What's in here, sweetheart?"

"Apple, carrot and cinnamon cake with cream cheese frosting. I piped little bunny rabbits on top, too."

Before she can say anything else, you take the box from her hands and walk into the house.

"We better put this in the refrigerator before the frosting melts!" you call as you leave.

"Come on Buck, let's get you a drink. Jack bought your favourite."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Your parents backyard looks incredible.

Golden fairylights adorn the deck, illuminating the dining area that your Mom has set up. The table is covered with a white lace tablecloth, and littered with tea lights and candlesticks. Each place setting has a wine and a water glass ready, fringed cushions perched on each wooden chair. There's a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a stained glass vase as the centerpiece, more flowers scattered across the entirety of the table.

The sun hasn't set yet, and the entire garden is dripping with the glowing orange hue of the evening. The air is warm and calm, salty ocean breeze only disrupting the peace occasionally. If summer were to be summed up in a night, it'd be this one.

Your Dad is pouring water into all of the glasses from an ornate painted jug when you walk into the yard.

"Hi, Papa."

"Oh, sweetheart!" he smiles in surprise, abandoning his task to come and give you a hug. "You look amazing. I like your dress."

"Thank you - hey, is this your new shirt? It suits you!"

"It's nice, right? Your Mom picked it out. She said the colour brings out my eyes."

You look him up and down comically, crossing your arms over your chest like a cartoon detective.

"Hmm... she's right. It definitely does."

You're both laughing when your Mom and Bucky join you, the two men immediately smacking each other on the back affectionately.

"Where you been, Buck? Work keeping you busy?"

"Stupidly busy - you wouldn't even believe."

"Well, it's your night off, so no shop talk!" your Mom encourages, handing Bucky a beer.

"Easier said than done," he winks, and your breathing picks up just a little.

"Mama, do you need help with anything in the kitchen?"

"Oh, yes please, sweetheart. Come, let me show you what needs doing."

The two of you leave the men to catch up, walking inside to prep the appetisers.

You're slicing tomatoes carefully when you turn to watch your Mom for a minute. She's chopping up basil, completely engrossed. The evening sun beams in, illuminating her as she stands by the window. You love her so much it makes you unsteady on your feet.

"Hey, Mama? Can I talk to you about something?"

She turns and immediately stops what she's doing, giving her full attention to you.

"Of course you can, baby. Anything at all."

You take a deep breath, and carry on slicing while you talk.

"So, you remember Stella, right?

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The night goes off without a hitch.

There's good food, gorgeous wine and even better company. Your parents invited many of their friends, meaning twelve of you are sat around the meticulously prepared table. In between courses, there's conversation, laughter and games, everyone letting go of the stress of the week.

You're doing everything you can to avoid looking at Bucky. You're worried that if someone catches the two of you, they'll know everything. You're surprised you haven't confessed already, the weight of the secret too heavy to bear.

Your Mom is cutting your cake on the table when there's a sudden commotion.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Shit! Shit, I'm sorry. Shit."

"Is everyone okay?" your Mom asks, flitting to the other end of the table.

"I'm so fucking clumsy, my God. Dropped my wine straight onto Bucky," Jesse, one of your Dad's oldest friends, explains.

"As long as it doesn't stain my white tablecloth, we're fine," your Mom laughs. "What do you need, Buck?"

"It's only white wine, luckily, so no stain. I'm just wet. I'm gonna go dry off."

"I have a hairdryer?" you offer without thinking.

"Good idea, honey. Go help Bucky upstairs while I get some paper towels."

You rise from your chair and make your way inside, heart racing as Bucky follows you. You rummage around the drawers of your childhood bedroom, certain you used to keep all of your hair tools here somewhere.

"You got it?" a warm, whiskey smooth voice asks from behind you.

"Got it," you reply, standing up with the hairdryer in your hand.

Bucky kicks the door closed behind him, and takes a step into you.

"I can't focus on anything when you're sat there in that dress," he murmurs. "Look like a fuckin' angel, all pretty under the lights."

Heat blooms over your chest, and you pray he doesn't notice. Your breathing quickens, and you step forward too, now chest to chest with him.

"I'm so worried that I'm going to accidentally blurt it out," you confess. "You're the only thing that's on my mind."

Bucky leans down to press his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. You fist your hands into his shirt and pull him closer, snaking your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like mint and sugar and every kiss for the rest of your life.

He groans when you bite his lip, nipping yours back in retaliation.

"Easy, baby," he warns teasingly. "I can't go back down there black and blue."

You roll your eyes and kiss him harder, practically melting when he grabs at your ass roughly.

"What do you need, pretty girl?" he questions against your mouth. "I'll give you anything."

You're panting against him, vibrating with need.

"Need you to take the edge off," you whisper, hands shaking as you unbutton his wet shirt. "Can't carry on like this. Please, baby. Please."

"We've gotta be quick," he reminds, sneaking his hand under your dress to tease you over your underwear.

You grab at his shoulders for leverage, almost certain your knees aren't going to hold out long enough. Bucky doesn't even take your panties off, just slips his hand down the front. It feels filthier this way.

"Fuck," he groans. "This all for me, honey? You been thinking about this?"

"Yes," you whine. "All I've thought about."

Bucky wastes no time, slipping a finger into you easily. After a minute, he adds another, setting a steady rhythm immediately.

"Shit," you breathe, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his chest. "We're supposed to be taking it slow."

"You want me to go slow?"

"No, fuck," you say immediately. "Don't stop. Please."

He chuckles lowly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

"I won't, baby. Almost there."

It should be embarrassing, how quickly he can take you to the edge, but you don't care. This is what having a soulmate is. They know you better than anyone - inside and out.

"So close," you whisper.

"I know, pretty baby. I can feel it. Stay quiet and come for me. That's it."

You can't hold out when he uses that tone with you. You're thrown over the edge, your climax running through you like molten honey, hot and delicious. Your knees buckle, and Bucky uses a strong arm around your middle to hold you up.

"There we go," he's murmuring. "Atta girl. That's my girl."

You wrap your arms around his waist and breathe him in, finally coming back to your senses.

"My parents are gonna wonder where we are," you realise. "Grab your shirt and the hairdryer. You're gonna have to do it while I recover."

Bucky smiles at you with so much affection, the world stops spinning for a second. This is a moment of bliss. The two of you revel in it.

Bucky dries his shirt while you go back outside, trying to keep suspicion to a minimum.

"Fixed, sweetheart?" your Mom asks, holding out a piece of cake to you. You take it gratefully and sit back down, relaxing into your chair.

"Yeah, it's basically dry. That hairdryer is old, so it's taking a while."

"Well you didn't miss much, other than Jesse telling the Joshua Tree story for the fortieth time this month," your Dad laughs.

"You love that story, asshole!" Jesse yells, just as Bucky re-enters the garden. He throws you a mischievous smile, which you reciprocate with ease.

Everyone is a little more careful with their wine as the night goes on, keeping all the glasses planted firmly on the table.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"So then I said, well, if you don't like it, leave!"

You're pretty sure you've heard your Mom's friend Cora tell this story before, but you're all laughing like it's the first time. She has such an animated voice, you're convinced you could listen to her read the phone book.

"Which, I mean, I didn't think he would. Imagine breaking up over a chinchilla! A fucking chinchilla!"

You're laughing so hard your sides hurt. You look over to Bucky, and see that he's grinning like a Cheshire cat. You could get used to this.

"So I watched him pack his shit, box by box. Which took fucking ages, by the way. He was using those big plastic boxes, you know the black ones? And he was filling them so carefully and so slowly, that I started helping him!"

You wipe a tear from your face, still doubled over in amusement. You're gonna be sore tomorrow, the way your abs hurt now.

"But I didn't want him taking those boxes, because they're nice, right? They're expensive, and they're mine! So I helped him move out, and then unpacked all of his shit so I could have my boxes back."

Your Mom, despite hearing this story before, hasn't taken her eyes off Cora the entire time. She's such a careful listener. It's one of the things you love most about her.

"Oh, I'll drop them off for you, if you like!" Cora yells, staring directly at you. Everyone turns to look at you in confusion.

"Why would she need all your boxes?" Jesse laughs.

"For the big move!"

Time stands still. The world goes silent. Your heart stops beating.

"...What move?" Bucky asks, never taking his eyes off you.

"To California! Her dream job, falling in her lap. We're so proud of you, babygirl. You've worked so hard for this."

Cora's tearing up now, the alcohol catching up to her. She raises her glass high in the air.

"To our little superstar. The best baker the world has ever seen! Cheers!"

Everyone clinks their glasses together in the middle of the table, except for you and Bucky. You haven't taken your eyes off each other. The world carries on, but you stay still.

You suddenly feel a cacophony of emotions - sadness, anger, betrayal, hurt and confusion settling like ten tonne weights onto your chest. Then it hits you - you're feeling what Bucky feels.

You feel a heart break.

You're not sure if it's yours or his.

tag list part one -

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

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togrowoldinv · 3 months

Text

Hugs

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Note: Not a formal fic, but a quick little thought about Natasha. Enjoy it!

The first time you hugged Natasha, it was just by accident, really. It was after a mission where things had gone not so perfectly.

You somehow got separated from the team for almost an hour. When you finally saw them again, you ran to them. Bypassing Steve and Tony, you ran into Natasha’s arms. Your weight against her caught her off guard but she eventually did wrap her arms around you.

You weren’t sure why you hugged her. It just felt instinctual.

The next time you hugged her it was at a Stark party. She noticed you had plenty to drink and offered to walk you back to your room. The two of you lingered by the door, feeling something more for each other. But it wasn’t the right time to make that move.

Natasha, instead, opted to hug you goodnight. Your memory of that moment is clear despite the state you were in. She felt warm against you and you tried to memorize the way she felt.

A few weeks later, Natasha asked you on a date. From that point on, your hugs with Natasha became more frequent. She would hug you in good times and bad, in crowded rooms or when it was just the two of you, and of course, anytime you asked for one.

Her arms are your favorite place to be. A shelter from every storm of life.

“Are you ready?” A velvety voice interrupts your thoughts.

“I think so,” you reply, standing and turning to see your soon to be wife by the door.

“Wow,” Natasha breathes out. “Look at you.”

“Look at me? Look at you,” you tell her.

Natasha smirks and reaches for your hand. She kisses the top of it before you join her in step. As you walk to your future together, you think back on all of the times you couldn’t even imagine this happening to you.

Everything changed when you fell in love with Natasha.

You exchange your vows and kiss to seal your future together. Before the reception that Tony refused to make a small occasion, you step into a room alone with Natasha.

She immediately pulls you into a hug. It feels so right to hug her as her wife. You hold onto each other tight.

“This is my favorite hug we’ve ever had,” you say.

“Me too, baby,” Natasha agrees.

You hug each other for what feels like an eternity, and that’s how long you want to spend with Natasha.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #Natasha gives the best hugs #it’s true

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wolfmoonmusic · 1 year

Note

hiiii!!! can u do a valentine’s day angsty post where james and y/n are in a secret relationship because she’s a hufflepuff but he flirts with lily and gets her flowers on valentines so he doesn’t cause suspicion u get upset and cry and break up with him and he tries to win u back but remus gets u flowers and kinda helps u get over james??🤭🤭🤭 if u don’t wanna do this it’s totally okay!! love ur work<3

Secrecy:

A/N: This was so painful to write. But, it was also super fun.

Summary: You love James Potter and would do anything for him, including keeping your relationship an absolute secret. However, he may not feel the same.

Pairing: James Potter x Hufflepuff!reader, Remus Lupin x Hufflepuff!reader

w/c: 3600+

Masterlist

Taglist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <3

The room of requirements had a lot of uses.

“Jamie, stop it!” you giggled as your boyfriend peppered your face with kisses. He pulled away grinning, “What? I’ve missed you!”

You shook your head, a sad smile taking over the grin you’d had before. “You wouldn’t have to miss me, if people knew about us,” you said, your hands fixing his hair, and adjusting his glasses. “If at least your friends knew,” you added, now fixing your own robes.

James closed his eyes, tilting his head back. “We’ve talked about this n/n,” he whined, cupping your face. His eyes searched yours, “I-I’ve told you, they can’t know.”

You shook your head, “You’ve never told me why, James.” You pulled his hands away from your face, bending down to pick up your bag, the next period would start soon. You tried to ignore how your chest tightened.

When James didn’t respond, bending down to pick his own bag up, you sighed. Everytime over the past few months that you’d had this conversation, it ended the same way. Sometimes, you wondered, if he was embarrassed of you, but it made no sense, because all of his friends loved hanging out with you.

Or so you thought. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

“I-I just need you to trust me,” he said softly, adjusting his bag straps. You just stared at him blankly. It was scary how used to this you were by now.

“Right,” you whispered, before stepping past him and leaving.

He didn’t follow you. He never did.

When James had first told you he liked you, he’d also mentioned a need to keep it private. You’d wholeheartedly agreed at first, maybe he just didn’t want his friends all over the two of you. However, that didn’t make sense either. Sirius had openly teased the both of you on some occasions, when James had one too many drinks, and got a little too touchy around you.

Of course, it happened only when he was drunk.

As days turned into weeks, you started wondering if he ever planned on telling at least his friends. He never got too close to you whenever you were around them. In fact, he’d barely even look at you. It was Remus who was always around you, talking and making you laugh.

If James hadn’t asked you out first, Remus might’ve been the one you were with.

He always made you feel wanted. In a way James never had.

The worst part was that Valentine’s Day was tomorrow. And James hadn’t even brought it up. Even when you’d asked him, he’d just shrugged and said “I’ll come up with something.”

You definitely didn’t miss the way his friends kept pushing him towards Lily Evans. Or how he seemed to be subtly flirting with her, every time you looked at him when you were in public.

At first you would cry in your dorm room, unable to tell anyone about how you felt, because no matter how much you hated it, you still felt obliged to keep it a secret. Over time, you learnt to shrug it off, allowing the pain to grow in your chest. You didn’t know what it was like to go through a day without that crushing sensation.

Sometimes you wished you weren’t that nice.

As you entered class, you weren’t expecting Remus to excitedly wave you over, Sirius turning away from his friend to smile at you as well.

You couldn’t even avoid them, it’d seem suspicious. You plastered on a fake smile, making your way over to the boys.

“Hey Y/N,” they both chorused.

“Hello,” you responded, settling down next to Remus. He held out a chocolate in the palm of his hand, and you gladly accepted, muttering a simple thanks.

This is what it was like to be around Remus. It wasn’t the constant fear of someone finding out. It didn’t come with the thoughts swarming in your head.

Your eyes found James walking into class, hesitating, for just a moment when he saw you, before his face returned to normal and he took a seat beside Sirius.

Of course, he didn’t give you a second glance.

Class started, causing you to shift your focus on your professor. You hated how routine it had all become.

How unaffected you were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you were walking back to your dorm, you felt someone grab your hand, pulling you behind a wall.

“Y/N, don’t be mad,” James whispered. You stared at him blankly, before sighing softly. “How long?” you asked, staring directly into his eyes, hoping that you could decipher what was going on. He gulped, looking away for a minute, before his eyes landed on you again. “I-I don’t know,” he said, immediately looking down at his shoes.

You tried to blink away the gathering tears, nodding. “Look, James, I like being your girlfriend. But, I hate being your secret,” you said. His eyes snapped up to meet yours, full of panic. “You’re not my secret,” he said firmly, his eyes filled with confidence. You almost believed him.

Almost.

You scoffed. “Right because this,” you said, gesturing to your hiding spot, “doesn’t indicate that you’re hiding me.”

“No, no I-” he sighed frustratedly, a hand running through his hair.

“I’ll see you in the Gryffindor common room in the evening. I’m studying with Remus. You,” you jabbed a finger at his chest, “can ignore me as usual.”

With that, you left, unable to hold the onslaught of tears any longer. As the hot tears streamed down your face, you started running, picking up more speed as the feeling in your chest grew. You didn’t care that people were staring. You didn’t care that you could get into trouble. You just needed to get away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t go to class. You didn’t go to lunch. You sat in your room all day pondering your situation. It hurt you to think about it. You’d been so happy in the beginning, an amazing boyfriend, good friends, you had it all. But slowly, your sudden disappearances had increased, and you couldn’t explain it to your friends. You’d even missed your roommate's cake cutting on her birthday because you’d run off to find James.

They barely even talked to you now.

You sniffled, hearing voices as your roommates piled in, barely acknowledging you. You watched as they walked right past you, only one of them, Rose, the one who’s birthday you missed, paused to give you a sad smile, before joining the others in their discussion.

You couldn’t handle the pain anymore. It enveloped you completely, the numbness taking over. You quietly got up, leaving the room. Anywhere was better than here.

As you got to your common room, you realized all the classes were over for the day. Your eyes scanned the room, as you tried to ignore the fact that you were supposed to be with Remus now. You didn’t want to go. James would be there.

But, you’d promised Remus yesterday.

You sighed, deciding you had to go, leaving the common room, with no one to stop you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second you entered the common room, Remus called you over. Unfortunately, he was sitting with his friends. Including your boyfriend.

You walked over, ignoring the way James watched you, eyes trained on Remus. “Hi Remmy,” you said softly, taking a seat next to him. “Hello love. Are you alright? You weren’t in Defense Against the Dark Arts today,” he asked, brows furrowed together in concern.

Did James even realize?

You nodded quietly, “Just needed to get away from everything for a while y’know?”

Remus nodded, understanding taking over his features.

“You don’t have your books,” Sirius pointed out.

You froze, you’d been so worked up that you hadn’t even realized.

“I - uh”

“ ‘S alright love, we can share,” Remus interrupted, passing his book over to you.

You smiled gratefully, “Thanks Moony.”

You knew James was watching you, but you didn’t look at him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. It hurt too much.

“Oh! I heard someone’s secret relationship was found out!” Sirius suddenly exclaimed.

You couldn’t process what he’d just said. Did he - did he know?

“Who?” you heard James ask. Your eyes snapped to him, but he was looking at Sirius, face seeming amused.

Was he not worried? Or did he not care? Or…was he so sure that it wasn’t about you two?

However Sirius just shrugged, “Don’t know, don’t care,” he pointed at the three of you, “however I think whoever it was is an absolute coward.”

Remus looked up from his book, “Coward?”

Sirius hummed in response. “You like someone enough to date them, why would you keep it quiet?” he asked, now looking at you, “If you’re not embarrassed or if it’s not forbidden love or something right n/n?” You were caught off guard by the question.

The way he looked at you made you feel as if he knew more than he was letting on.

“I uh-. Yeah, yeah, why would you?” you asked in response, looking at James. At this point, you didn’t care if someone suspected something. You wanted an answer.

James’s eyes widened in shock. “I-”

The three of you were looking at him now. “You shouldn’t. Not if you care about the person enough,” he muttered, looking at everyone but you.

You didn’t stop the tears from flowing. “I- I have to go,” you whispered, before running out.

Did he not care enough then? If that was just a response, framed to keep people from guessing, how far was he willing to go to keep this a secret?

You ran all the way to your dorm room, ignoring the way your roommates were looking at you with concern, before jumping on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow, and sobbing.

None of them came to ask you what was wrong. Of course they didn’t. You hadn’t been there for them, constantly putting James first.

The James that always seemed to put you last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up in the morning, eyes puffy and head hurting. You hadn’t even changed into your pajamas. You groaned, sitting up slowly, eyes closed, as the events of the day before, flooded into your head.

“Hi.”

You opened your eyes, finding Rose sitting on your bed, a soft smile on her face.

“Hi?” you said, shocked that she was even talking to you.

“You came in, a mess last night,” she laughed lightly.

You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment . She moved closer to you, placing a hand on your knee. “What’s going on?” she asked, voice filled with concern.

You were surprised that she’d even asked. “I missed your birthday?” you asked in response, unable to form an actual sentence.

She laughed again, “I know you Y/N. You wouldn’t have done that unless something was going on.”

You felt your eyes water again. “You really want to know?” you asked, your voice shaking. She simply nodded, waiting for you to continue.

You hesitated, unsure if you should tell her, but as the pain in your chest continued to grow with every second, you realized you needed to let it out.

So you did.

You told her everything. From the very beginning, to the conversation you’d had yesterday.

The second you’d finished, she engulfed you in a hug. “Oh n/n, you don’t deserve that,” she said, pulling away.

“But I mean, what I don't get is, why?” you whispered.

“I don’t know love, but you have to tell him,” she said sternly.

“Tell him what?” you asked, afraid of what she was going to say.

“That if he wants to stay with you, he should be willing to be open about it. Not PDA level but you know what I mean,” she said, taking your hands in hers.

You nodded. She was right. Absolutely right.

You had to tell him now. Why not? It was Valentine’s? It was perfect.

“I’ll tell him right now,” you said, getting off the bed.

Rose gripped your hand. “Not like this you’re not,” she told you, looking you up and down.

You laughed in embarrassment, “Right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rose had helped you get ready, even helping you out with a bit of makeup.

So now, as you sped across the halls, you were feeling confident. You were sure you mattered to him, so you didn’t worry too much about the conversation you were about to have. You were feeling good.

But then you heard the name Potter coming out of a certain redhead’s mouth. You came to a halt, turning to look at the scene behind you.

Lily Evans was holding a bouquet in her hands, blushing profusely.

“I can’t believe he actually knows what flowers you like!” her friend exclaimed.

Lily nodded, “He might be a prick sometimes, but he really is good at this.”

Your heart dropped.

It can’t be.

You walked over to her clearing your throat. “Um, Lily?” you called, causing the girl to turn to you.

“Oh hey Y/N!” she smiled warmly. You returned it with a weak smile of your own, “I was just wondering,” you said shakily, pointing to the flowers, “who gave you those?”

She grinned, “James Potter. As thick headed as he is, he’s also a sweetheart.”

You felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach, the color draining from your face.

“You alright?” she asked, noticing the way your hands were shaking.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah of course. Have a nice day,” you said, quickly turning around and bolting.

You had someone to go meet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“James!” you yelled, barging into the Gryffindor common room. Sirius, Peter and Remus, and James all turned to look at you. Luckily there was no one else there.

Though, to be honest, you wouldn’t have cared.

You were tired of hiding.

“You gave Lily flowers?” you said, walking up to your boyfriend.

He stood up, eyes wide.

“Of course he did! Are you oblivious to how he’s head over heels for her?” Sirius interjected, confused as to why you were so angry.

You ignored him, eyes trained on your boyfriend.

“I-”

“Well? Did you? Or is she lying to me?” you asked, your eyes watering.

“Y/N”

“I swear to god James if you try to hide this even now, I will not hesitate to slap you.”

You could see how panicked James was. But you didn’t care. You were hurt beyond repair.

He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath.

“I did,” he whispered.

Hot tears streamed down your face.

“But I swear,” he said, opening his eyes, “ I only did it to keep people off of us.” He tried to reach for your hand, but you pushed him away.

“Why?” you sobbed. Your chest felt like it was being crushed. Your heart, breaking into tinier pieces by the minute.

James huffed. “Because,” he started throwing his hands up in the air, “Because you’re a Hufflepuff!” he yelled.

You staggered back, the shock of the revelation came like a blow.

“What?” you whispered.

“Mate, what’s going on?” Remus asked, walking over to stand next to you.

James just shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Love,” Remus turned to you, a gentle hand on your shoulder, “what’s going on?” he asked.

Sirius stepped forward, “James fucked up, that’s what’s going on,” he supplied.

You and James looked at him in shock.

“I saw you both kissing a few days back,” he explained. “It completely threw me off, because Prongs here,” he threw an arm around James’s shoulder, “has been head over heels for Evans since first year.”

First year?

“However, he did tell us about catching feelings for you last year, though we thought it subsided because he never mentioned it again. Of course, I found out only recently that he didn’t mention it, because he was too up in his head about the whole ‘Gryffindor being a superior house’ thing,” Sirius said, making air quotes. You stared at James, not knowing how to process the information being dealt out.

“Then I saw you both snogging each other before Charms one day, and decided to bring it up. James however said you were just friends. But he wouldn’t shut up about how in love he was with Evans. Meaning one of two things,” Sirius said, moving away from James, holding out both his hands.

“One,” he said, lifting his left hand up, “James was using you to get the attention he wanted because Lily wasn’t paying him regard,” James opened his mouth to say something but Sirius cut him off, “but, James isn’t a prick. He wouldn’t do that.” Sirius said, lowering his hand. “Which could only mean,” he lifted his right hand now, “that James did in fact like you, but he couldn’t give up completely on Lily, and,” he paused, pointing to James, “he feels too superior about his house, as always.”

You blinked multiple times, trying to understand what Sirius had just said.

He’d known yesterday. And he’d been trying to warn you.

“Y/N-” James started.

“Don’t. Don’t James. Don’t open your mouth and try to explain. You’ll only make it worse,” you seethed. Your hurt had completely transformed into anger.

“We’re done. Go on and snog Lily in front of everyone, yeah? She’s in Gryffindor,” you glared at him, before storming out of the common room, ignoring his protests.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d spent the entire day in your room. Thinking, crying, and thinking some more. You’d told Rose, and then also told her you needed some alone time.

She’d been doing a great job at keeping everyone away.

Until now that is.

You heard a soft knock on your dorm room door.

“Please, not now,” you called out, hoping the person would go away.

“I uh- It’s me, Remus,” a soft, uncertain, voice called back.

Your eyes widened and you quickly got off the bed, opening the door to your visitor.

“Remus?” you asked, surprised.

He smiled at you warmly. “Hello love, may I come in?” he asked. You nodded, stepping aside to let him. You closed the door again, watching as he gently placed his bag on the floor before sitting on your bed.

“I had to bribe Rose with 2 weeks of free chocolates,” he laughed.

For the first time in hours, you felt a smile creep up onto your face. “Aww, you did that for me?” you teased, settling down in front of him.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said, quietly.

You froze, a warmth coating your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

He sighed, “James is- He’s an idiot. To hurt you like that. It’s-” he shook his head, “It’s fucked up and not fair on you. If I was him, I’d be showing you off,” he said, reaching over to place his hand on your knee.

You felt goosebumps erupt all over you at his touch.

“Even if I’m a hufflepuff?” you smiled sadly.

“Even if you’re a Hufflepuff,” Remus nodded, before adding, “In fact, I’m happy you’re not a Gryffindor, I know too many Gryffindors,” he laughed.

You felt yourself relax at the comforting sound, a small chuckle slipping past your lips as well.

Remus bent over, searching through his bag before presenting a bouquet of (your favorite flowers).

Your jaw dropped in shock. “I- Are these for me?” you asked, reaching out slowly.

Remus nodded, “Just for you,” he said.

You pulled them close to your face, inhaling the fresh scent. “I love it, Moony, thank you,” you whispered.

Remus just stared at you, his brown eyes filled with love. For a second, he looked away, as if pondering something, before his eyes landed on his hands. You watched as played with his sweater, shrugging, before taking in a deep breath, and looking into your eyes.

“I know it might be too early, but do you think- would you maybe- I don’t know how to say it,” he sighed, looking away.

You knew what it was immediately. Did you want it? Yes, so very badly. Because you were confident that Remus would treat you right. Even Rose thought so.

He knew you better than James ever had.

“Just say it Remmy,” you said, placing the flowers next to you, before taking his hands in yours.

He looked at you, staring into your eyes. You felt your heart pick up speed, thumping loud against your ribcage.

He shook his head, looking away again, unable to keep eye contact for long.

You moved closer to him, knitting your hands together, sitting knee to knee.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend. We- We’ll have to take it slow, but I’d absolutely love to do that Remus,” you said.

He gently untangled your arms, and worry took over. Is that not what he wanted?

But then, his lips were on yours, his hands on your waist, and your head was on cloud nine.

It wasn’t rushed, he took his time, savoring every second. It wasn’t mixed with the fear of being caught. Or the pain of knowing you wouldn’t get it again for a while.

No. You couldn’t think. Your heart took over your body, as you pushed back. Every fiber of your being, lighting up with joy.

It was like your first kiss all over again.

Until, someone threw the door open, and you almost feared how Remus would react.

But he didn’t recoil, or act like nothing had happened. He just backed away, shocked, one hand still on your waist, as the other ran through his hair, eyes closed as he let out a small airy chuckle.

It was Rose. She was grinning. “I knew it!” she pumped her fist in the air.

Remus laughed, shaking his head, “Now will you leave us alone? Unless you want to watch?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

Rose’s eyes widened, and she held her hand up in defense, “No sir,” she said, before leaving, closing the door behind her, causing you to giggle.

Remus turned to you, smiling, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Promise we won’t be a secret?” You whispered.

“I promise,” he responded, pressing his lips to your forehead.

And he stuck to that promise, ‘till your heart went still.

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