#i’m so fucking amused by us what even happened
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is this hatred? or love? part 1
pairings natasha romanoff x fem!reader
synopsis what happens when you have to share a bed with your enemy?
word count 2.9k
warnings fluff, teasing, gunshot wound, reader’s injured, pet names (sweetheart, love), one bed trope, enemies to lovers, they’re both so in denial it makes me want to bang my head against the wall
author’s note haven’t had the time to write in a long time. i honestly had a lot of fun writing this, natasha being the most annoying fucking tease is the biggest headcannon to me <3
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“Need a hand, dorogaya (sweetheart)?”
“Shut up, Romanoff.”
“If you say so.”
With your dominant hand pressed firmly against your wounded abdomen to stem the bleeding, your other hand trembled as it swiped the card through the reader. Natasha leaned her back casually against the adjacent wall, her boredom thinly veiled by a feigned yawn as the reader emitted its third ‘beep’ of rejection due to your insufficient force.
“We’ll be here all day. Aren’t you supposed to have super soldier serum in your blood?”
“I said shut up.”
With an exasperated scoff, Natasha snatched the card out of your hand. She forcefully swiped it through the reader, the satisfying click of the door unlocking echoing in the corridor. As the door swung open to reveal the dimly lit motel room, Natasha couldn’t help but grin smugly.
“See? Easy as pie.”
You grunted in response, carefully adjusting your stance to maintain pressure on your wound. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it, love.” She replied breezily.
With a nod of appreciation, you stepped through the doorway, a wave of relief washing over you, although the throbbing pain in your abdomen dampened it. Natasha followed suit, closing the door behind her and locking it. She walked past you, her demeanour shifting subtly from teasing to attentive as she scanned the room. Once she familiarised herself with the layout and window exits, she turned back to you, nodding her head to give you the all-clear.
The room looked ordinary like any other hostel room, with neutral-toned walls and simple furnishings. A small table sat in one corner, adorned with a lamp and a few scattered brochures. Across the room, a worn-out armchair stood next to a narrow window, its curtains drawn shut to block the dim city lights. On the opposite wall, a modest dresser provided limited storage space, its drawers slightly ajar. Despite its lack of luxury, the room emanated a sense of comfort. As you looked around the unremarkable surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of gratitude for the simple shelter it provided.
While you were busy surveying the room, Natasha’s attention was on your injured abdomen, a subtle flash of concern in her eyes. The sight of the fresh blood staining your shirt in the brief moments it took to open the door tugged at her heartstrings, even if she would never admit it to you.
“How bad is the wound?” She inquired, pointing a finger towards your abdomen.
You glanced down, noting the slight redness seeping through the fabric and onto your shirt. “Well, I wouldn’t have this wound if someone realised that a HYDRA agent was aiming at them.” You retorted.
Natasha smirked, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Hey, it’s not my fault they can’t resist taking a shot at me, I’m irresistible.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle despite the ache in your side. “Irresistible, huh? That’s one way to put it.”
“Of course.” She shrugged casually, giving you a knowing look. “I honestly think we both attract trouble wherever we go. It's probably the only reason Fury paired the two of the biggest troublemakers on this mission, right? He’s probably having the best day of his life without having to deal with us constantly being at each other’s throats.”
You smirked, acknowledging the truth in her words. “Seems like Fury knows what he’s doing after all.”
“Well, I’d like to think he’s getting some entertainment out of it.”
You rolled your eyes playfully. "Entertainment? More like a headache.”
Her smirk softened into a faint smile as she shook her head. “Just because you saved me doesn’t mean that I don’t hate you still.”
“Likewise, Romanoff. Just because we’re being all buddy-buddy right now doesn’t mean I suddenly like you.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “Good. Wouldn’t want things to get too sentimental, partner.”
You knew that the word ‘partner’ was dripping with teasing and sarcasm. The two of you were anything but cooperative with each other. You both frequently exchanged biting remarks, teasing, and insults. You couldn’t help but wonder what you had done to make her despise you so much. You were nice to her when you joined the Avengers all those years ago, but it always seemed that she harboured a deep dislike for you. When you spoke up in a team meeting, she would scowl and you could always feel her gaze burning a hole in your skull.
In the beginning, you tried to get along with her and be as friendly to her as you were to everyone else. From offering her assistance during training or helping her with her mission reports, nothing you did ever seemed to break the coldness and distance in her heart. You knew she wasn’t the most extroverted person, but you never saw her act that way towards others. Eventually, you gave up and decided it was best to ignore her, just as she had ignored you.
Of course, once you started ignoring her too, Natasha’s behaviour changed. She started teasing and taunting you, finding ways to provoke a reaction from you even when you tried to ignore her. And she kept winning. Her incessant teasing had a way of getting under your skin. It was a frustrating cycle of provocation and reaction. You felt like you were constantly on edge whenever she was around.
But reluctantly, you couldn’t deny that everything had changed during the mission an hour ago. Despite the heated tensions, you both had an unspoken agreement to watch each other’s backs in battle.
As the weight of the moment settled on you, Natasha’s gaze softened, and her concern for your well-being was evident in the depths of her eyes. “But seriously,” she said, her tone changing to genuine concern, “let me help you tend to that wound before it gets infected.”
You shook your head slightly. “It’s okay, I can take care of it myself.”
Her expression tightened slightly, her concern unwavering. “Stubborn as always,” she muttered under her breath.
You met her gaze with a steely resolve. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve handled worse.”
Her lips formed a thin line, showing her frustration. "Think of it as a way of repaying you for helping me.” She insisted, her voice firm.
You knew she wouldn’t give the matter up. The both of you were equally as stubborn as a mule. “Fine.” You relented, offering a nod.
“Great,” Natasha replied, a hint of relief in her tone. “To the bathroom then. I’m sure this motel room has a first aid kit somewhere…”
You and Natasha made your way to the bathroom, her footsteps echoing yours. Silently, you took a seat on the edge of the closed toilet seat. You leaned back against the toilet’s tank, the cool porcelain surface offering a brief respite from the tension in your muscles. She wasted no time in retrieving the first aid kit from the mirror cabinet and moving towards you.
“Take off your shirt,” She instructed, settling the first aid kit on the tiled floor.
Your brows furrowed in surprise at her directive. “W-What?” You stammered, looking down at her with an incredulous look.
Natasha rolled her eyes at your surprise, her patience wearing thin. “Come on, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be,” she chided, her tone tinged with exasperation. “I can’t clean your wound if you have your shirt on.”
Reluctantly, you began to peel off your shirt cautiously. Each inch revealed the angry red gunshot wound beneath, eliciting a whine as the fabric grazed against your wound. At least you were lucky that the bullet passed through instead of staying inside your body. As more of your skin came into view, Natasha’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. A blush crept onto her cheeks, betraying her normally composed demeanour. Despite her best efforts to maintain her composure, the sight of your exposed skin stirred something within her, igniting a warmth that she couldn’t quite suppress. Quickly, she averted her gaze, busying herself with preparing the first aid supplies. Though she tried to hide it, the flush on her cheeks lingered.
As you finally removed your shirt, Natasha’s expression softened even further. “Thank you for sacrificing yourself for me. It was incredibly stupid, though.” She murmured, her voice softer now.
“It’s alright, Romanoff.”
“You can call me Natasha, you know. You’re the only one in the team that still calls me by my last name.”
“Alright, Natasha.” Your lips twitched into a small, appreciative smile.
In a comfortable silence, Natasha began to carefully clean the wound with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, her touch gentle yet precise. The warmth of her fingertips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. As she worked, you couldn’t help but steal glances at her, admiring the focused expression on her face.
Natasha’s brows furrowed as she delicately dabbed at the wound, her lips forming a thin line. Now and then, she would scrunch her nose up, a small, endearing gesture that softened her usual stoic expression. Despite the pain, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sight of her.
Once the wound was cleaned and dressed, her gaze met yours with a sense of satisfaction. “There,” she said softly, relief in her voice. “All done.”
You offered her a grateful smile, “Thank you.”
A small, genuine smile curved Natasha’s lips as she met your gaze. “Anytime, dorogaya (sweetheart).”
As she rose to her feet, a blush crept onto your cheeks. You were well-acquainted with Natasha’s tendency to use nicknames on you, especially ‘dorogaya’, but it was typically wielded with a teasing edge. This time, however, it wasn’t accompanied by the usual teasing tone. Instead, it carried a genuine warmth that caught you off guard.
“Uh…” You stammered, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest at the unexpectedly sincere endearment. Clearing your throat, you tried to push aside the fluttering in your chest.
Her smile widened at your reaction. “Nervous, are we?”
“Shut up, Natasha.”
She chuckled softly at your retort, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she teased, her tone light and playful.
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips despite the warmth still lingering in your cheeks. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words.
With a shake of her head, Natasha reached down to offer you a hand. “Come on, let’s get you back on your feet,” she said.
You hesitated for a moment, touched by her gesture, before placing your hand in hers. With a steady grip, she helped you to your feet. She moved to the doorway before looking at you over her shoulder. “I’ll let you shower first. Try not to get water on the dressing.”
“Got it.”
With a final nod of acknowledgement, Natasha closed the door behind her, leaving you alone in the quiet of the bathroom. Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you slipped off the rest of your clothes and placed them in a pile with your soiled shirt. A sense of relief washed over you at the prospect of washing away the grime of the day’s events. You turned on the water, allowing the warm cascade to envelop you as you stepped beneath the stream. Despite the lingering ache in your abdomen, the sensation of the water against your skin was soothing, easing the aching tension that had settled in your muscles.
As you stood beneath the spray, you couldn’t help but reflect on the events that led to this moment. Fury had sent you and Natasha on what was supposed to be a routine mission, but as these things often went, it spiralled into chaos. The intel given was faulty, the security stronger than anticipated, and you were in over your heads before you knew it. It was a mission gone wrong, one of those rare instances where even the most meticulous planning couldn’t prevent disaster.
In the aftermath of the debacle, with your injuries sustained and the mission being held in another country, there was no choice but to seek refuge in a motel room for a night before a Quinjet could transport you back to the Avengers Compound. Fury had booked a motel room for you and Natasha, a nondescript haven tucked away from prying eyes. It was a humble accommodation, far removed from the luxuries of the Compound, but at least it provided a temporary sanctuary where you could tend to your wounds without drawing unwanted attention.
As you stood beneath the shower’s warm spray, the mission’s events were still fresh and raw as they replayed in your mind like a relentless loop. The close calls, the split-second decisions, the adrenaline-fueled rush of combat. And yet, despite the chaos and uncertainty, one thing remained constant — Natasha fighting with you side-by-side.
You couldn’t help but marvel at Natasha’s resilience. Her determination even in the face of overwhelming odds. She had saved your life more times than you could count, her skills as an assassin matched only by her unwavering loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D.
However, this time was different. During the mission, the roles had been reversed. In a moment of instinct, you had thrown yourself between Natasha and the gun aimed in her direction, putting your own life on the line to protect hers. The only reason you could think of for making a reckless decision like that was that simple — you couldn’t bear the thought of losing Natasha, even if you hated her with your whole heart. There was no hesitation as you acted on pure instinct, driven by a need to protect her.
As the warm water washed away the physical remnants of the mission, you emerged from the shower. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you stepped out of the bathroom, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as the steam-filled air gave way to the coolness of the room.
Immediately, your gaze was drawn to Natasha, who sat on the edge of the bed, her expression a mix of surprise as she took in your appearance. You couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves at the intensity of her gaze, prompting you to tighten the towel around yourself in a subconscious attempt to shield your modesty.
Finally, Natasha broke the silence. “Sorry for staring. I.. uh-” She faltered for a moment, her words trailing off as she cleared her throat, seemingly struggling to find the right thing to say. “We have a problem. There’s only one bed.”
Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for how to respond. You looked down at the singular bed Natasha was sitting on. You couldn’t help but feel a flush of embarrassment colour your cheeks. The prospect of sharing a bed with Natasha added a whole new layer of complexity to your already complicated relationship with her.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Natasha suggested, standing up.
You felt a pang of guilt wash over you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t be fair for her to sacrifice her comfort for your sake.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” You interjected quickly. “You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor instead.”
Natasha crossed her arms, regarding you with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not being ridiculous. You’re the one that’s injured, you should get the bed instead.”
You shook your head. “I appreciate the concern but I really can’t let you sleep on the floor. We’re both equally exhausted from the mission and besides, you need a good night’s rest too.”
Natasha’s expression softened, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and stubbornness. “I can’t let you sleep on the floor either,” she countered, her voice firm.
You sighed, realizing that neither of you would easily back down from this standoff. “Alright, how about this,” you proposed. “We share the bed. It’s really small, so we’ll have to sleep pressed up against each other, but at least neither of us has to sleep uncomfortably.”
Natasha hesitated for a moment, considering your offer. “Are you sure?” she asked, her tone softening with concern.
“I’m sure.” You nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “Go take a shower. You smell.”
She chuckled softly at your attempt to lighten the mood. “Yes ma’am.”
As Natasha disappeared into the bathroom, you took a moment to collect your thoughts, relieved that the tension between you had dissipated, at least for now. Sharing a bed with her was certainly going to be an… interesting experience.
You reached for the bag you had dropped near the doorway and pulled out a fresh set of clothes. Quickly, you dressed yourself. As you settled into bed, you heard the door open as Natasha emerged from the bathroom. You were facing away from her as you felt the bed dip behind you when she got into bed. Feeling her presence behind you, you turned your head to offer her a small smile.
“Can I… wrap my arm around you? It’s the only way we’ll both fit in this bed.” Natasha remarked, her voice laced with a hint of embarrassment.
You chuckled softly, feeling the tension easing further as you nodded in agreement. “Sure, yeah, go ahead.”
As Natasha shifted closer, her front pressed up against your back and her arm gently encircling your waist, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach at the sudden intimacy. Despite the awkwardness, there was a surprising comfort in the warmth of her touch, and you found yourself relaxing further in her embrace.
“Goodnight, Y/N.” Natasha murmured, her breath warm against your ear.
“Goodnight, Natasha.” You replied, a sense of contentment settling over you as you closed your eyes.
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#lumi’s fics!#marvel#mcu#the avengers#natasha romanoff#black widow#natasha romanoff x reader#black widow x reader#wlw#fanfic#fanfiction
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La Cosa Nostra- pt 11
cowritten with @schemmentis
Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10.
Summary: Melissa's pissed with recent news, the Feds are back at it, and you go to a place and person to find some comfort.
WC: ~2.05k
At this news, Melissa quickly slips into the seat on the other side of Dom's table. “Are ya crazy? I told you they've already torn this place to shreds, and you want to bring the money in through here?” She hisses as she leans more into the middle of the table. “Listen, losin’ the salon is already bad enough. You know what it did to Y/N when you took her off it.”
“That didn't come from me, Mel. I just had to deliver the message. You know that.”
“I don't care who it came from. You knew, and you did it just the same. Now you have the coglioni to sit here and say we should run it through here. I already ain't gonna forget the slightin’ of my wife, youse know that- the lot of you. You wanna tell me I gotta run this shit through my restaurant? Then tell me. Don't act like this is some proposition, Dominic. Tell me what to do, and I'll handle it. ‘Cause you and I both know how this shit works, but I am tellin’ you,” Melissa points an index finger at the man across from her sternly. “Right here, right now, I am tellin’ you; this fucks up my restaurant and youse all are gonna have a much bigger problem than the fuckin’ Feds, capisce?”
Dominic's face remains neutral, though there is an amused glint to his eyes as his palm shifts along the head of his cane. He nods quickly and respectfully to Melissa. “We want things to go well even more than you do, kid.” He says softly.
Melissa leans back in chair, arms crossing over her chest. She raises an eyebrow, silently urging him to say what he needs to say.
“We'll work out the details on our end. You only have to make sure you're here when the money comes through. Simple as that.” Dom says. He sighs when Melissa still merely stares at him expectantly. “Sí, sí. We're telling you this is how it's gonna work from now on. Clear out a spot in the office in the back. Nobody else needs to know it's anythin’ different than a regular shipment comin’ once in a while. None of it happens if you ain't here. This is big, Lissa. They're trustin’ you.”
“Like they trusted my wife?” Melissa spits out as she pushes herself out of the chair. “Texts only. They call and wake up my girls while they’re sleepin’, I'll take one of my bats to their kneecaps.” She adds on her way past Dom in his seat to storm back toward the kitchen.
You raise a brow as you watch your wife storm into the back and Dominic starts to slowly make his way out. You grab one of the other servers milling about, silently asking them to keep an eye on your girls while you go check on the redhead.
When you get into the back, she’s slamming her fist into the linoleum counter where they prep the food. Her hand is already bruising, and you take her fist gently into your own.
“My love,” you whisper as you hold her hand in yours.
“Let me go,” she hisses.
You shake your head, refuting her request. “You’re hurting yourself. You know I can’t let you do that.”
“I don’t give a shit,” she grumbles as she starts to curl her other hand into a fist. You grab the other one before she can even think about causing damage to that hand.
“Melissa.”
“They’re usin’ the restaurant as their new front,” your wife tells you quietly. “Said that it’s what we have to do, and they trust me… that we’re in the clear because the feds saw how busy we are and that we bring the girls around here, so it has to be safe.”
“I’m not letting you do this,” you tell her. “And I’m not letting them put the girls in danger.”
“We don’t got an option, Y/N. I told Dom I would handle it,” Melissa sighs as she leans against you. “And I will. You just… take care of the girls. No matter what happens.”
“Melissa, don’t talk like that- like you’re gonna die.”
“I’m just being realistic. You did the same when they were using the salon,” your wife says softly. “We both knew that if something happened, I’d have to keep the girls safe. But now, it’s on me, and I know that you’d do the same if something were to happen. We don’t have a choice.”
“Fuck,” you whisper again. “Shit.”
“Get… get the girls out of here, and tell them that I’ll be home late tonight,” your wife runs a hand over her face. “I have to make it work here.”
“No,” you say softly. “I’ll… I’ll get someone to come pick them up so I can help you.”
“Y/N,” Melissa grits out. “Go. I can handle this.”
You give her a look, one that tells her she doesn’t have to do this- that you’ll handle it. You don’t want to have her be the one in danger.
But she just shakes her head and insists you get the girls out of here- just in case Dom did give the two of you up, and he’s setting you up for failure. The girls cannot watch their mother(s) go down.
You cradle her face in your hands, kissing her a few times. “No more punchin’ things, hey? Can't have you bustin’ up those pretty fingers more than you already do.” You whisper. “I'll take care of the girls. You do what you gotta do.” When she nods, just a little, you kiss her one more time before finally turning away.
You gather your girls with a thank you to the server watching them for you.
“Mam! We have to wait for Mommy!” Cat is insisting as you walk with both your girls out the front door.
“Auntie Val needs Mommy's help tonight, sweetheart. So, we're gonna go home and make sure everything is cleaned up and nice for her, okay?” You speak to your girls though you're glancing around the parking lot on the way to your car.
You take note of Dom's car pulling out but don't see any cars with sirens or lights careening into the lot afterward. You carefully buckle your girls into the backseat. When you're shutting the back door after making sure they're both safe, you look around again on the walk around to the drivers side. There's nothing different or out of the ordinary. No sign of agents or officers. Which means Dom has only done exactly as he said he did.
You slip into the driver's seat, throwing your seatbelt on. You swallow as you carefully pull out of the spot and towards home. Dom telling the truth is maybe worse than if he had flipped. They're really putting this on Melissa and Twelve Tables. Part of you despises it. The amount of risk it puts on your wife. You know it intimately. The other part, the part that grew up in all this and doesn't know anything else, that part is proud as hell. It isn't anything to turn your nose up at to be entrusted with the process of mafia money. It speaks volumes. Volumes that equally excite and terrify you.
Danik and Shaw are back at the precinct, contemplating everything that Dominic told them- that you and your wife had nothing to do with the murder of Bobby. He told them that even if you did have something against the man, you could never do anything- you rescue wasps because you don’t have the heart to kill them despite the fact that your wife is always screaming at you to kill the damned demons. They go over the fact that you bring your twins into your restaurant, you take the girls to church with you, you always are on time to get the girls to and from school. If you were a part of the mafia and mob that dealt with things pertaining to ordering hits and murder, you wouldn’t be such dutiful mothers.
But they also know that you never brought the girls into the salon- they’ve only ever seen the two girls with you at the restaurant. And that is a bit suspicious in their eyes. So, they plan to head back to the salon the following day.
When they get there, you aren’t there- which is unusual. You’re almost always there, and they know that. Instead, Tony is out on the floor with the other stylists. But you are nowhere to be seen; your car isn’t even in the lot. And it isn’t in the lot because you’re somewhere else.
You’re sitting in the sanctuary of your church. After dropping the girls off at school and leaving your wife to her restaurant turned mafia front, you go to the one place where you can find some sort of solitude- because even now your home reminds you of everything happening in your world.
There’s no service today, so you find yourself sitting in the back pew by yourself, looking up at the ceiling. You’re speaking silently to whatever God is out there to please spare your family from all of the heartache that you can only imagine is in your inevitable future. Finally, you bow your head, and you begin to weep silently.
You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel someone slide into the pew next to you and wrap an arm around your shoulder. Your eyes pop open in surprise, and when you look next to you, Barbara is sitting there.
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t ask why you’re here and not at the salon or at the restaurant. She doesn’t mention that she knows what the two of you do outside of your legal businesses. No- she sits in complete and utter silence as she holds you gently. And you can’t do anything about it. You can’t explain why you’re here in a puddle of your own tears, not without giving away what she already knows to be true. So you don’t say anything. You just continue to cry out your fears and worries over everything while clinging to the shawl that Barbara has draped over her shoulders. And when you pull away, you let out an ugly, choked out laugh.
“You probably think I’m crazy.”
“Crazy? For coming to the one safe little corner of the earth where you can feel anything and do anything and not be judged for it?” the woman asks you. She shakes her head silently. She takes your hand in her own, and together the two of you pray. You don’t realize that she is praying for the same thing that you are, but she is. The two of you silently pray that you’ll somehow get yourself out of this mess- that your family will be able to return to some sort of normalcy- or better yet turn a new leaf and start a new life where there is no mafia or mob, no illegal businesses that put everyone in harm’s way.
And when you lift your head, hers is still bowed for a few seconds before she lifts it with a quiet, “Thank you, God.” And then, as if nothing happened, she pats your hands gently with her own and goes on her way.
You take a few deep breaths once Barb is gone. Carefully trying to get yourself together. You wipe at your cheeks and eyes, focusing on the distant altar at the pulpit. You sit in the last pew, breathing deep and slow. Staring at the large depiction of Jesus on the cross behind the altar. Slowly, you feel the serenity you were hoping to. You don't know that praying will do anything, actually change anything, but it's at least felt like getting it off your chest. In a way that doesn't jeopardize your family or anyone else. You suddenly understand Barbara's devout faith. You can't say that will ever be you but you get it. You make the sign of the cross over your head and chest as you finally rise from the pew and slowly make your way out of the quiet church.
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#abbott elementary#abbott elementary fanfiction#abbott elementary fanfic#mel#melissa schemmenti fanfiction#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti
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Go Meg (Rafe Cameron x black!reader)
Summary: Thank God for the Megan challenge.
Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, suggestive themes (masturbation, lap dancing, twerking)
**
“The Megan Challenge is the best thing that ever happened to us,” Topper says as him and Kelce look over the crowd on the second floor.
Every girl was shaking ass with “Wanna Be” playing over the speakers. Everywhere they looked there was ass shaking.
Someone turned off the lights and some guys used the flashlights on their phones to record the girl twerking on them.
Meanwhile the lights on the second floor were still on. Rafe and some of his buddies were chatting it up and smoking weed until your friend, Sasha, takes your hand and tries to drag you downstairs.
“Hey, hey. Where you going?” Rafe asks, standing from the couch. His eyes were a little red but he was still sober enough to notice your every move.
“We’re going downstairs to dance.” You said, his initial resting pretty on your neck.
Rafe glanced over the railing to the crowds of girls twerking on guys. “I’m coming with you,”
“She’ll be fine. She’s with me,” Sasha retorts. “Is that suppose to mean something to me?” Rafe snaps causing Sasha to roll her eyes.
Rafe motions you over with two fingers, a common sign that he wanted a kiss before you left.
You leaned up and just as your lips were about to meet, Sasha drags you down the stairs.
I’ll be fine, you mouth to him, sending him a wink before your figure disappears into the darkness downstairs.
Rafe joins Kelce and Topper at the top of the stairs.
Your friend pushes through the crowd to get to the inner circle. The room wreeked of weed and sweat from brushing against so many hot bodies to get to the middle.
Your friend wanted you to be the center of attention because she knew you were about to eat.
You slept over her house one night and the night went from talking about boys to having a twerk session.
She did not know you could make your ass clap like that.
Not even Rafe knew how much you’d like to twerk. It would only make him feel more protective of you.
He gave you shit for wearing the ripped jean shorts because he could see some the bottom part of your cheeks.
Rafe watches as your friend spun you around and you lean forward to move your ass side to side, making your thighs giggle.
Leaning down all the way, your chest was pressed to the front of your thighs and your hands traveled up the back of your legs.
Rafe’s cock was straining in his pants when you stick your tongue out in amusement as you stood up straight.
You pushed your silk press over your shoulder and threw your ass in a circle.
“Bow, bow, bow!” Sasha hypes you up and slaps your cheeks when you press against her, causing you to laugh.
Sasha looked over at Rafe who was watching your every move, which quickly shifted to noticing how other guys were staring at you.
Some of them had their phones out, recording you. They were lusting after you. You, his girl.
Rafe’s jaw tightens when he made the realization and someone would jerk off to those videos of you.
She knew exactly what she was doing by bringing you in the middle.
Sasha hated Rafe and Rafe hated Sasha because neither of them liked to share.
“I didn’t know your girl could twerk, Rafe.” Kelce states, looking away so he wasn’t met with a sharp look from Rafe.
“Me neither.” Rafe looks at Topper, tongue in cheek as he watches him falling into a trance of your hips moving.
“What the fuck are you looking at, Top?” Rafe steps closer to him. “Huh?”
“Huh?” Rafe mocks, body checking Topper and Kelce steps out of the way so Rafe could go down the stairs to find you.
“Dude, are you fucking crazy?” Kelce scolds Topper when Rafe is out of ear shot.
Sasha watches the whole interaction with a smirk on her face.
“I’m going to get a drink. I’m thirsty.” You yell at her over the music and that’s the moment you notice the phones trained on you.
“But the song’s not over yet.” Sasha reasons. “I think they’ve had enough show for tonight.”
You took a step back and collided with the warm chest.
“I have a boyfriend. Get the fuck away from me.” You snap, your mouth falling open when you turn around to see Rafe’s proud smirk.
You were a bitch to other guys and he fucking loved it. “Oh, shit. Sorry-“
He cuts you off with a messy kiss, his tongue rolling over yours as he grabbed handfuls of your ass. You moaned against him, pulling him closer by the neck.
“I’m yours,” you said against his lips when he pulled away. “Took the words out of my mouth, baby.”
Without warning, he threw you over his shoulder and smacked your ass hard enough to leave a hand print.
“Ow! What the hell, Rafe!” He slaps your ass again to shut you up and you comply.
He strolls out of the party with you dangling over his shoulder like a rag doll.
“How about you give me a.. private dance tonight, hm?”
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𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃
Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader
Summary: Your husband usually calls for you to join him during his bath.
Warnings: MDNI, mentions of Sukuna killing people, rough pregnancy, Sukuna being fluffy (so slightly ooc), reader is mean to Sukuna
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Ever since you shared the news of your pregnancy with your husband, Sukuna has become more loving. The man who’d talk to you however he wanted, now makes sure to soften his voice when talking to you. He wants to see you every hour of the day, even when you don’t want to see him. Sukuna is seeing how you’re struggling with your pregnancy, and he wants to check up on you constantly.
You’re not too far along that you both know of, yet you’re huge. He grows worried that his selfish want of a child will cause you harm. There’s one person that Sukuna would die for, and it’s you. If something were to happen to you because of himself then he’d– He doesn’t want to think of it.
Lately he’s been asking to take baths with you. At the end of the day, a servant walks into your chambers and informs you, “Lord Sukuna requests for you to join him in his bath, mistress.”
She bows her head to not look at you, scared that she’ll end up like the last servant that dared to look you in the eye. It was Sukuna’s doing because how dare someone look his wife in the eye? You sigh before telling her, “I’ll be there in a second.”
She stands in the entrance of your room, given orders to not leave without you. Sure, Sukuna requests to see you but it’s an order from him. You don’t have much of an option.
You follow behind her, and she excuses herself when you’re finally with him. Sukuna lays comfortably in the water, patiently waiting for you to get undressed and join him in the water. He watches as you take off all your garments and walk over to him when you’re completely bare.
“You need to start leaving me alone, you’re starting to annoy me.” You tell him as you get in the water. Sukuna chuckles, finding it amusing how you’ve completely stopped fearing him. One of his hands caresses you from your breasts to your bump, resting there.
“Now, why are you getting mad at me? I thought you wanted a loving husband?” Sukuna comments, kissing the top of your head. Your hand rests on top of his, lightly squeezing it.
“I wanted one before he got me pregnant. I swear I must be carrying twins– Or the baby also has four arms. I don’t know, I’m just miserable.” You confess, and Sukuna kisses the top of your head again. He really shouldn’t have expected it to be any different. Sukuna’s huge, why would his baby be any different?
“It’s just one and done then?” He asks, and you hum in response. Maybe your answer will be different in a few years, but for now it’s that. He feels a tug on his heartstrings, seeing how much you’re struggling. He’s worried. “Are you holding up okay, though?”
“Not like we could do anything if I wasn’t.” You answer. He’s definitely much softer than your usual husband, and you would’ve loved it if you weren’t carrying a monster child. His hand remains on your stomach, and he feels as his baby kicks while you moan in pain. Sukuna shushes you, feeling as his baby moves.
“I’m trying to feel him! Shut up, woman!” He raises his voice, and you slightly turn to glare at him. A look that would surely kill you if you were anyone else.
“How does me making noise correlate with you feeling the baby! Think, Sukuna! Use your fucking brain.” You’re definitely bolder than usual, which makes him laugh.
“You’re so beautiful when you’re yelling at me.” He says, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips so he can kiss it. “I love seeing you demanding and mean. It shows the effect I have on you.”
“Really?” You answer, and he hums in response. There’s no better time to bring up what’s been bugging you than now. “I hate that new servant you took in. Kick her out.”
“And why is that?” He asks.
“She was looking at you funny.” You respond.
“In the sense?”
“She has the hots for you, and I don’t like it.”
“Hmm… What if I was looking for–” He begins and you glare at him. He doesn’t have much of a sense of humor, but he guesses that’s something that’s off limits when he tries to joke. “Don’t you want me to do more?”
“Like what?” You question, even though you should know your husband better than anyone.
“Kill her.” He answers.
“Hmm… Up to you.” You reply. You lay comfortably on his chest, feeling as his finger traces lazy circles on your belly. You change the topic, “Why do you think it’s a boy?”
“I can’t see myself with a daughter.”
#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#jjk sukuna#jujutsu sukuna#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna fluff
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A Girl with No Name
A/N: This one shot POURED out of me. All because of this incredible art by @chu-cho Thank you for creating this masterpiece. Hope I can do your art justice.
Ok, let me set the scene. Euphoria, SKINS, and Degrassi procreated in the basement of Kappa Alpha. Keg to the right. A designer tray of substances to the left. The boys in the middle. And you…you crack the whi— what? Who said that?
CW: Frat AU, implied substance use, mature 18+, MDNI
‘Ain’t a pill that I didn’t take’
Lyrics that feel too familiar tread water between Suguru’s ears. They glide along his skin. Which feels like silk, by the way.
Silk.
Who ever made that is a Nobel laureate.
‘Cause Imma sleep when I R.I.P.’
Euphoria.
Who chose the lights?
They’re vivid. Swarming. Like the walls are a tile dance floor. Yeah. Light picker deserves a Nobel too.
“You are so fucked right now.” His best friend’s sharp ass voice dices his lucid thoughts to smithereens.
“Shut up, Satoru.” He’s not wrong.
“We took the same shit.” Suguru perches on the solo cup ridden kitchen island. Sitting is good.
“Plus, I’m bigger than you.”
“If you wanna compare dicks just say so.” Satoru sneers, he’s cockier when inebriated.
In any other instance when Suguru is of sound mind, Satoru would’ve caught a jab to the chest. But two reasons why that can’t happen.
One, he’s currently tripping balls.
Two, you just walked in.
Like you own the house.
Maneuvering your body around the active pong table. Slipping past the chatty women gawking in their direction. Gearing for attack. Shifty and nervous, but the vodka cranberry is courage elixir.
The boys have about 45 seconds to engage with said women or divert.
But you are currently leaning over the counter reaching for a shot glass well out of your zip code. A little red dress on. All curves, no brakes. With an ass that could make anyone believe in God.
Sorry, girls. Tonight, they are going to divert.
Suguru catches Satoru’s heady gaze. No words needed. They share instincts. The boys have been in stride since the day they met.
They saunter over to the counter you’re mounting. An easy reach for them both.
“Didn’t realize your name was on the lease, princess.”
Satoru plucks the double shot glass down from Mount Everest. Handing it over between two fingers.
Still propped up on the counter with one knee, you peer down at them both. Letting the white noise of utter disinhibition drape the space between you.
Suguru planned on softening Satoru’s blow, but then you smile.
Cavalier and gorgeous.
Like it’s a golden ticket into spaces you don’t belong in.
The answer to questions people don’t realize need asking.
The cure for everything.
And right now? It is. The cure.
Suguru stands stupefied as you brace yourself on his shoulders. Thank God his hands still know what to do. They snake around your tapered waist and pull you to solid ground.
Speak, dumbass.
“You didn’t? It’s in the fine print.” Your voice beats him to it. And is fucking dessert.
Bad for you. Horrible for you. But good in the way self-indulgence is.
You take your shot glass (really, anything in the house is yours if you want it). And steer away to the refrigerator.
Your absence jumpstarts Suguru’s out-of-commission brain.
“Excuse him, he was raised by monkeys. Can I help you find something?”
Suguru and Satoru reposition themselves behind you while you rummage. Bent over at the waist. Head nearly submerged in the pull out freezer.
Are you doing this on purpose?
Are you trying to be a cocktease?
Satoru isn’t even attempting to stop eye-fucking you.
Suguru pulls his tongue ring in and out of his teeth. Anything to stop ruminating on the melody of sounds that’ll fill the room when his hips slam into your ass repeatedly.
“There it is,” you stand back to your full height. Triumphant. Jack Daniels in hand.
Your eyes are pools of quicksand. Why else would Suguru’s mouth feel more stuck than his feet?
“You’re a whiskey, kind of girl?” Satoru smirks, amused at your vice choice.
Again, the boys follow your movements like two expertly trained German Shepards. Flanking you when you settle at the corner of the island. Meticulously over-pouring your first double shot.
“I’m a good time kind of girl.” The way your slender neck tilts back is immoral. Throating the dark liquid like water.
…what else can that throat handle?
“Okay, good time girl wh—“
“Listen.” You snip Satoru’s snide remark at its base. Leaving both of them silent. Watching. Waiting.
“Brad,” you pointedly look at Suguru.
“And Chad,” eyes dagger into Satoru.
“Thank you for the warm welcome but I’m not interested in talking.”
The back of your hand swipes against your full lips. And Suguru can’t seem to pull his eyes off of them.
Satoru, after a moment of stunned silence, lets out his laugh. The one that means you’ve won his undivided attention for the night.
“Close, but no cigar baby. Try again.” Satoru leans onto his forearms. Tilting his intoxicated gaze up at you.
“Right idea, though.” Suguru chimes in. Tongue finally deciding to work.
“Ahh, I hear you loud and clear.” You retort, golden-ticket smile back on your face.
Your nose wrinkles in feigned concentration and Suguru nearly passes out.
Are you really this hot? Or is he just that blasted?
“Preppy,” your hand cups Satoru’s face. And his Adam’s Apple bobs deeply.
Good, Satoru is feeling this as hard as he is.
“And Edgy.” Suguru gawks at the way your lips hang open after your snarky guess at his name leaves your mouth.
Satoru’s wolfish chuckle is what re-tethers Suguru to this dimension. How the fuck is he keeping up with you right now?
“No, no. I got it.” You pipe up.
Placing one hand over each of theirs. Suguru greedily intertwines his long fingers between your petite ones.
“Thunder.” You squeeze Suguru’s hand and his soul nearly leaks out of his dick.
“And Lightening.”
Cotton candy dusts Satoru’s nose to his ears when you look up at him. Suguru can see the vulgar scenarios on cinematic repeat in his best friend’s mind.
And it’s tame compared to the ways Suguru wants to disrespect you.
“We can work with that.” Suguru flashes a smile of his own. Purposefully keeping his tongue ring out of your view.
“And what can we call you?” Satoru probes. Zeroed in because no one else in the room exists.
Your hands return back to your side, and Suguru misses your warmth immediately.
“No name.”
Flippant. Lighthearted like what you said was normal.
“What was that?” Satoru spurts out. Saliva bubbling in his half open mouth.
You glide away from the kitchen. Into the den with bodies colliding. Walls thrumming. Lights strobing.
Delicate hands cup around your mouth. Turning back to face your new guard dogs.
“Not here to talk, boys!”
The three of you are interwined at the center of the crowded room in seconds.
But time is warped.
Because Suguru is traversing Death Zone altitude on the mountain. And Satoru is swimming at Abyssal Zone depth in the ocean.
You are the 8th cardinal sin.
You writhe and undulate your curves in and out of their grasp. Gripping onto Satoru’s neck, strumming his undercut when he’s facing you. Winding your hips against Suguru’s crotch when he’s behind you.
Suguru’s cock has never been this hard, he’s half worried it could snap in half. Hissing against your neck. Groaning behind your ear. So goddamn grateful for the music drowning out his desperation.
But his skin is on fire. He can feel every vessel pulsate.
You are not a want.
You are a need.
“Need you.” Suguru gruffs in your ear. Flickering up to Satoru, who is mirroring his hooded gaze.
Suguru watches your pretty hand trail down Satoru’s chest. Satoru rolls his bottom lip under his teeth. Apt nickname you chose for him, because there are lightening bolts in his eyes.
“Take me upstairs,” you whisper back, tilting up to capture Suguru in your web.
And he is so captured. So entangled.
The boys lead you to Suguru’s bedroom in the frat house. Even though the walk felt like miles, exactly no time passes when you three close the door behind you.
Suguru’s lips magnet to yours. Insatiable in the way he sucks and pulls on your lips. Tongue tasting every corner of your sweet mouth.
Satoru drops his head to the crook of your neck. Sucking bruises. Tracing his large grasp up and underneath your dress. No time or room for manners with how his cock is tenting against its weak restraints.
“So eager, boys.” You giggle in between their hungry kisses.
And you’re right.
It’s embarrassing, their display right now.
But neither one of them have the capacity to stop.
And hold it together.
And lead. Like they both are used to.
“Sorry,” Satoru grunts into the feminine slope of your neck. You let out an airy laugh when he starts to dry hump you. Tickling both of their incapable brains.
You know Satoru is so far gone.
And Suguru is trying to hold on to some semblance of dignity but his cock simply won’t let him. Not the way it’s drenching his sweats with need.
“Take these off.” Melodic instructions fill Satoru and Suguru’s ears the minute you pull away from Suguru’s kiss. Your index finger hooked on both hems.
As if your voice is a Pavlovian trigger, the boys step out of their pants and boxers.
Rock hard. Desperate. Leaking.
Your personal drones.
Suguru can’t swallow the whimper that collides with Satoru’s whine when your hands drop to stroke both of them at the same time. Flickering your eyes between your two toys. Proud of the way their cocks are twitching and pumping beads of precum into your hands.
“God, pretty girl.”
“Fuck, princess.”
Satoru and Suguru are dizzy with heat.
Just in time for you to drop to your knees. Dragging your closed, lipsticked lips along Suguru’s up curve.
“Please,” Suguru whispers.
You’re evil.
And you ignore him. Dragging your soft, warm hand up the length of his shaft. Interjecting butterfly kisses in between. Working Satoru’s length in your other hand.
Drawing punched out moans from the boys. Chests heaving. Clipped breaths. Pitiful.
“On your knees, Lightning.” You beckon Satoru, while teasing his counterpart.
Satoru doesn’t hesitate for a second. He couldn’t if he wanted to. Propped on his knees, he stares into the side of your face. Awaiting further instruction.
“Kiss me,” you demand, circling your lips around Suguru’s sensitive tip for the first time. Evoking a loud hiss.
Satoru’s eyes widen. Your words startle the breath out of him.
The lights are dim but Suguru doesn’t miss the blossoming cherry red flush. Spreading along his toned shoulders.
Your wet lips dragging along his swollen cockhead pulls Suguru’s eyes away from his celestial best friend.
“Mmmgh f..fuck baby,” Suguru chokes out at your slow, mean ministrations.
“Don’t be shy, Lightening.” Your tongue tickles his lead pipe with every spoken word around his girth.
Suguru’s eyes fall to your hand. Now working its way up Satoru’s length. His core involuntarily curls into your sudden touch. Gossamer thin whine tumbling out of his lips. Suguru catches the way Satoru digs his fingernails into his milky skin.
And his cock twitches against your lips at the sight.
“Kiss me,” You beckon Satoru again, dragging your tongue up Suguru’s length.
“I—I…“ Satoru stammers. Hips stuttering against your fist. Static fills Suguru’s head.
He’s never seen him this docile. This pliant. It’s a mind fuck.
No, no.
The way Satoru pulls his eyes up to meet his gaze in that moment is a mind fuck.
Is he hallucinating?
It’s like Suguru is seeing Satoru for the first time.
Instead of being side by side, he’s across the street. Catching a glimpse of a God. Walking amongst men.
Satoru’s expression has earned permanence in his brain. Snowy halo of hair. Long, palatial lashes fanning the Aegean Sea in his eyes. A mosaic of lust, desire, a little shame.
Seeking permission.
Seeking approval.
He is otherworldly.
Vulnerable and soft. On his knees. Needy. It makes Suguru want to ram his cock past those pouty, swollen lips.
But..but that’s wrong. Right?
They’re best friends. Fucking soulmates. They don’t..they don’t do that.
But the way he’s pouting.
God.
Glassy eyed and helplessly turned on. Rutting his hips into your hand.
Fuck.
“Fuck,” Suguru mutters. A surge of his arousal landing on your tongue. Eliciting a breathy giggle in response.
Followed by an out of body experience for the next few minutes.
Suguru’s hand wires into Satoru’s cloud soft locks. Gentle grasp between the slender webspaces.
“So pretty.” He rasps through the nails in his throat.
Satoru’s pupils blow out at the praise. All but purring into his touch. Suguru barely applies any force and Satoru crashes his lips onto yours with Suguru’s thick head in between.
Filthy.
Nasty dirty vulgar sounds fill the room. Suguru’s constant stream of precum dripping onto your tongue, Satoru’s tongue. Raining down on your puffy, full tits.
You two exploring each other’s lips.
Satoru’s angry length, squelching against your hand.
It’s too much. It’s too fucking much.
“Such a good boy.”
Your dulcet voice is a tornado decimating Suguru’s brain. He has to blink a few times to realize that the praise wasn’t meant for him.
It was directed at Satoru.
Who is desperately — eagerly — throating Suguru’s dick. Nose flaring. Diamond tears rolling down his blushing cheeks. Unintelligible garbles dribbling out the corners of his mouth.
“Sa—Satoru, mmgh, god shit, shit.” Suguru’s hips take a cruel pace down his Person’s throat.
“Mmm, Satoru.” You murmur into his ear. Tasting your new discovery.
“Look how much Thunder likes fucking that mouth of yours.”
Satoru’s tears splash against Suguru’s sex. But he opens his throat anyway. Swallowing his rod. Filthy bulge in the column of his throat.
“Ahh, god..baby..” Suguru huffs when your devilish little hands tug at a palm full of his hair.
When did you get next to him?
Doesn’t matter.
Yet another natural disaster destroys Suguru’s brain when you push your tongue back into his mouth. While he violates Satoru’s mouth.
The wire in Suguru’s stomach coils. Lava surges through every vessel in his body. Groin welling with a deep, carnal pressure. Everything feels too fucking good.
“Fuck, oh god fuck. I’m I—g—“
“Cum for me, baby.”
You kiss your hushed command into Suguru’s mouth. His hips come to a screeching halt. Both hands down in Satoru’s hair, grazing along his undercut.
Suguru tilts his chin to the ceiling. Thick loose mane tickling his mid back. Vision completely dark. He has no idea if he’s still in Satoru’s mouth. Or where his cum is landing. All he knows is death by pleasure right now.
You press your moist lips into Suguru’s neck.
“You’re so beautiful like this.” Sweet words reverberate against Suguru’s skin.
His head slowly comes back to earth. And just as his eyes pull back open — a shudder and blinding light assaults his vision. Up close.
“Woah, what the hell?”
Suguru is met with a Polaroid camera. Printing evidence of his nirvana. His brows crawl together defensively.
“What do you—“
“Relax, thunder.” You coo with that smile that’s decadent, beautiful poison.
You step over a dazed Satoru. Still on his knees. Lazily stroking up his neglected hard cock.
Suguru’s eyes track you to his bed. You place the developing film on the nightstand.
“These are for your eyes only.”
“I don’t mind.” Satoru huffs. Rising to his feet. Deep within your trance. You could’ve asked him to cut off an arm and he’d offer you both.
Satoru would follow you into Hell if you demanded it.
Suguru would too.
“Boys, come.” You curl your finger at them. And pairs of feet move.
“Thunder, why don’t you put that tongue ring to good use. While I take care of pretty little Satoru.”
His name on your lips snaps something buried in his soul. Satoru steps to the head of the bed. Leaning against the wall. Cock heavy with his seed. A string of arousal hanging low from his tip.
You make a dramatic show to catch Satoru’s leaking string of cum before it wastes on Suguru’s sheets.
“You’re fucking filthy, princess.” Satoru hisses. He can’t remember the last time he’s blinked the whole night.
You smile around his bulbous tip, then pull him into your warm heat in one go.
And fuck, Satoru can feel you sucking through to his throat.
His whimpers sound so pathetic in his ears. But he is so lust-drunk he couldn’t care less.
One look down and he sees his best friend whining underneath your precious cunt. As you circle your hips around Suguru’s metal-clad tongue. Taking your pleasure directly from his mouth.
Suguru’s half hard sex pulsates against his perfectly toned abs. Satoru has to look away. His orgasm threatening to come too soon.
“Mmmnggh, so good with your tongue, Thunder.” You gurgle around Satoru’s length.
Arousal flavored saliva driveling down your chin. The sensation drives Satoru to piston his hips until his tip abuses the limit of your dainty throat.
You shouldn’t have any space to breathe, much less talk.
“Pl-please. Suguru. Name’s Suguru.”
“Say his name baby.” Satoru’s order is low. Raptorial. Hips bucking wildly into your mouth. Heat crashing into his groin.
He’s so close. He’s—
“S-Suguru.”
And Satoru dives off your cliff edge. Hearing his Person’s name tumble out of your mouth and around his cock snapped his self-control in half.
Ropes off thick, warm heat spill out the side of your mouth. Staining your bunched up dress, the sheets and everything in between.
“S-so close,” you huff, humping Suguru’s tongue more aggressively.
A familiar camera shudder and solar bright light fans your outstretched neck. Capturing your cum-stained ascension.
You flash Satoru a knowing smirk. Another beam of light aimed in his face before he tosses your camera off to the side.
Satoru crashes his lips into yours. Eager to taste himself off your mouth.
Your bodies move in perfect tandem. Satoru kisses your peak from your lips while Suguru coaxes your wet orgasm onto his tongue. Your high drenches Suguru and the sheets around him.
The three of you piece yourselves together. Completely plaited within each other’s warm, moist limbs. Basking in the serotonin showers misting you three in post-coital bliss.
No one remembers, but you wish each other sweet dreams before the fog settles. And the night re-claims you to sleep.
——
Sunlight is downright offensive.
Suguru forces his heavy lids open.
7: 43 AM
Fucking, hell.
A freight train is currently doing laps in Suguru’s mind. He flickers around the room. Haphazard clothes. Strewn socks. Satoru in Suguru’s 06 hockey jersey. Long limbs nearly dangling off the other side of his bed.
Suguru glances down, somehow dressed only in Satoru’s black sweats
There’s a tiny sliver of space between their sodden bodies. Where you must’ve slept.
Right.
You.
Heaven’s fallen angel.
You used to be God’s favorite. No way you still are.
Not with how fucking sinful you looked in that red dress.
Snapping polaroids.
Taking their souls for play.
Then having the audacity to leave them on the nightstand when you were through.
Suguru met The Devil last night.
And she was…exquisite.
“Fuck, my head.” Satoru groans, rolling over to face his dark-haired soulmate.
Suguru watches his eyes flutter open. And something within him catches.
How has he not noticed how beautiful this boy is before?
“Here,” A glass of ice water, still sweating from condensation is waiting on Suguru’s nightstand. He takes a long sip before passing the lifeblood to Satoru.
Satoru briefly meets Suguru’s gaze. Before averting, pretty mulberry blush flooding his face.
“Was last night…real?” Satoru asks after an extended sip.
Suguru meets his question with silence. Preoccupied with picture proof.
Three polaroids neatly arranged on the nightstand.
The first one is of Suguru. Hair moused, framing his intoxicated gaze. Remnants of his orgasm oozing from the still shot. Lips puffy and abused. Cheeks flushed. Suguru can barely recognize the man in the photo.
His eyes dance to the cursive label at the bottom:
Thunder
Alias: “Suguru”
A wry chuckle escapes his lips. He passes his photo to Satoru.
The next polaroid is of his Person. Post orgasm haze heavy in his eyes. He managed to get his 10,000-kilowatt smile perfectly in the selfie. Also flushed. Also completely debauched. The blue in his eyes reflected nearly translucent.
He’s a fucking masterpiece, that boy.
Suguru knows what to expect at the bottom of Satoru’s polaroid:
Lightening
Alias: “Satoru”
“Shit man, these are amazing.” Satoru murmurs, intently studying Suguru’s polaroid. Absentmindedly accepting his.
“They are.” Suguru agrees, unknowingly holding his breath while pulling your polaroid into view.
And of course.
It’s blurry.
The only thing in focus is your graceful, arched neck, specks of Satoru’s finish glistening on your skin. Merlot red dress, pulled far below your breasts. Only thing pictured is the apex of your cleavage. Leaving Suguru’s mind to spiral into lucid memory of the rest of your silhouette.
“Who…was that?” Satoru muses. Eyes now on the ceiling. Undoubtedly having the exact same swarm of flashbacks flood his mind.
Suguru rolls your Polaroid between his index and long finger. The bottom of the photo reading:
No Name
A lazy smile tugs on the corner of his lips.
You are something else.
Supernatural, almost.
“She’s a girl with no name.”
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would you write a threesome w leon and chris… because… like maybe leon is your (older,,, like death island) boyfriend and he introduces you to his friend chris!! and idk you three end up having a threesome (consensual)… and you’re embarrassed because. you’ve never done this before n you’re all clingy with leon (maybe daddy kink??) n he’s like comforting you as he and chris fuck you at the same time ?!?!?
pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader x chris redfield
summary: your boyfriend leon wants you to get a little more comfortable with his friend chris.
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, double penetration, oral (f receiving), fingering, daddy kink, size kink, age gap, dacryphilia
word count: 6.6k
a/n: thank you anon for sending this idea, it's right up my alley fr. also thank you for sending it again after i fumbled the bag the first time🤭🫶. the next threesome fic will be coming soon, i just ended up having more inspo for this one lol. hope you guys like it. reblogs and comments are super appreciated <3
tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi
“I’m just saying I think you both would really like it if you gave it a try,” you say, a bright smile on your face as you walk up the path to your and Leon’s shared place. Him and his friend trail behind you with equally pleased looks, the friend in question being Chris Redfield.
“No way. I did try it, and it was boring. Slow and drawn out. Also, it’s so unrealistic,” Chris says.
“Booooo. It’s not even slow. Stuff happens in like every single episode, at least in the early seasons,” you argue in an attempt to convince the pair to watch one of your favorite shows, “I just think there’s a lot you guys would like about it if you weren’t so impatient.”
“Babe, it’s got like, what? Over five seasons? I don’t have that kind of time,” your boyfriend replies.
You playfully roll your eyes and unlock the front door, stepping inside followed by the two men you were with. “Whatever. I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go change cause this skirt is like super itchy,” you tell them.
Before you can walk away, you feel a familiar palm swat your ass. “It’s like super cute though, shows off those pretty legs,” Leon teases, his tone affectionately mocking.
You whip around to shoot him a glare, face hot with a mixture of emotions, mainly embarrassment with a pinch of arousal.
“Leon,” you whisper, giving him a look that says not in front of Chris.
He simply chuckles at your quiet protest and shakes his head with amusement, ruffling your hair and planting a kiss on your forehead before sending you off. You catch Chris’s gaze as you turn to leave. To your surprise, he isn’t rolling his eyes or visibly wishing for the two of you to get a room. He’s smiling. His expression is different from the one you were used to seeing on Leon, but it still held the same patronizing adoration that soaked your panties in seconds.
Brushing it off as your imagination, you scamper down the hall to the bedroom. You hum to yourself as you drop your skirt and kick it into the laundry. Rifling through your drawers to find something more comfortable to wear, your hands search through some different clothes before settling on a pair of loose pink shorts. After pulling the soft garment over your legs, you look in the mirror and then decide to slip your bra off too.
Sure, some people would frown on that move, but you were in your place and it’s not like Chris is a total stranger. He was one of your boyfriends closest friends. You’d hung out with him and Leon together multiple times, and from what you gathered, he was pretty cool. It’s not like the two of you were best friends yourself. Like your boyfriend, he was quite a bit older than you. But just as you bridged that gap with Leon, so far it seemed like you managed to bridge it with him too. To say the least, he didn’t strike you as the type to have an episode over your nipples peeking through your shirt.
Unbeknownst to you however, while your thoughts lingered on the men down the hall, their conversation centered around you as well. They had taken to the couch, sitting close to each side and leaving a space for you in the middle.
“She’s a cute little thing,” Chris chuckles, watching the hallway you had gone down.
“Mhm,” Leon confirms simply. He was scrolling through the tv, trying to find that show you’d been talking about.
His friend looks over at him. “You sure she’ll wanna do this?” he asks with some uncertainty in his voice, “She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who’s had a whole lot of experience with this type of thing.”
“Trust me, she’ll be into it. I can’t even tell you how wet she gets just from talking about shit like this,” he reassures, “You just gotta let me ease her into it.”
Chris opens his mouth to respond, but he cuts himself short once he hears your footsteps approaching. You bound back into the room. Your eyes catch on the way they’re sitting, closer than you would expect. They still left room for you though, so what does it matter, right?
You hop onto the couch and tuck yourself against your boyfriend’s side, gently kissing his jaw as you get comfortable and curl up on the cushion. He smiles down at you and returns the affection. He pulls you closer, but your feet are still brushing Chris’s thigh with how close he is.
“We were thinking we could watch an episode of that show you were talking about, see if we really would like it,” Leon tells you.
“Really?” you ask, a little surprised, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s fine, baby. Chris doesn’t feel like driving home just yet, and you know if you’re happy, I’m happy,” he says.
You look over at Chris who nods. With that, Leon puts on the show. The familiar intro music plays and you watch the screen as a scene that you’d seen a million times plays out. You sink into his side, settling against his warm body. The episode plays, and you point out little things you like or remember something specific about. Both men nod and chuckle at your excited remarks.
Even though the couch and cuddling are comfy, your legs start getting a bit cramped from being curled up for an extended amount of time. You squirm around a bit, wanting to just stretch out. Chris prevented you from doing that as his bulky frame occupied the space your legs could be.
Leon smirks as he notices your restlessness. He shifts around a bit himself and leans back further into the couch. His feet rise up and land on the coffee table a few feet away, his legs stretching out in front of him. He doesn’t even have to see your face to know your eyes catch on his limbs. Their state of being outstretched only makes your need to do the same more intense. He gives Chris a quick glance.
“You uncomfortable, honey?” the larger man asks you.
Your eyes dart up to meet his. Hearing that pet name coming from anyone else but Leon left you flustered. You tried to reason that it didn’t mean anything. This was clearly another instance of you overthinking. Maybe Chris was just the type of guy who said that sort of thing? The kind that called cashiers sweetheart or darling. The kind who’d put your hand on your waist when saying excuse me. You didn’t remember him acting like this any of the other times you’d met him though. He was always polite with you, but that was about it. Maybe you just didn’t notice before?
“Um… I’m fine. Just a little cramp,” you explain.
He smiles at you, that same kind from earlier. “Well, I don't bite. You can stretch your legs out if you want to, princess,” he teases.
Princess. Ok that was definitely something. That name was reserved solely for the man whose arm was around you, and it usually came out only when he was prepping you to take his cock. You typically heard it as a coo when you were already crying out your own special name for him. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. The two just went hand in hand. Honestly, you couldn’t really hear one without the other following close behind.
That’s why you get all timid and shy so easily. You were pretty sure Leon had psychologically conditioned you or something. Just a few touches in the right place, some words whispered in your ear in the perfect hushed tone, and you were a goner. Suddenly, your brain would feel soft and malleable. Urges appear within you to sit in his lap and cuddle. You’d just wanna look up at your daddy with dazed eyes and have him stick something in your mouth.
And sure, it wasn’t like you were brainwashed or something. You still possessed self control. It wasn’t like he’d pet your head and call you his baby, and you’d instantly lose yourself over it. It was just a slow slip into this side of your personality, and being around Chris didn’t exactly deter those feelings from coming out either because just look at him. He looked like he was meant to be called daddy. Whenever Leon would tease you in front of him, it felt like you soaked your panties even quicker than normal.
You're snapped out of your analysis of this moment when you feel a large, warm hand wrap around your ankle. He pulls your leg out, and in-turn, drags you closer. A soft squeak escapes you as your body slides down Leon’s. Your back is still resting against his side, just lower. More of you is spread across the sofa, and your calves were fully in Chris’s lap.
You look up at your boyfriend to see his response to his friend’s action, but he didn’t even seem interested. He barely spared you a second glance in your new position, simply adjusting his arm to accommodate the new location of your head. He wraps it below your jaw and has you rest your chin on the bend of his elbow. His fingers start rubbing soothing, little circles on your shoulder. Meanwhile, Chris’s large palms merely rest on your legs. He gives you a smile before turning his eyes back to the tv screen. You quickly follow suit. If he wasn’t thinking this was weird, you weren’t going to make it weird by dwelling on it.
For a while, it’s fine. The three of you continue watching the show, albeit a little more quiet than before. Leon’s hand remains on your shoulder and keeps up his light touches. Your body relaxes again though as you let go of any nervousness you had. But then, Chris starts moving his hand too.
His palm smooths out over your lower leg. His other hand rubs your ankle, his fingertips coasting over the joint. One is moving in long strokes while the other stays in tight circles, but both go at a sensual pace, slow and teasing.
Your head turns to look at him again, but you find his stare is still on the characters of the tv show. You watch his hands move. They’re now essentially massaging your legs. His hand that had been lower has risen and works on the muscles, digging his warm digits into the flesh.
You squirm a little, trying to alert your boyfriend that his friend was touching you in a way that seemed more than friendly. It doesn’t work though. If he does see, he doesn’t mind because he simply leans down and plants a gentle kiss on the top of your head before reverting to his same position. You almost felt crazy for a second. This wasn’t normal, was it? Had you just lived your life not knowing that it was a regular thing for a boyfriend’s friend to give you a massage like this? Was Leon ok with it cause he was there so it couldn’t go too far? You really had no clue.
If you were being honest though, Chris’s hands didn’t feel bad. Not at all. They felt really good. They were big and warm and moved with strategy. They hit all your sweet spots. Kinda made you wanna crawl into his lap so he could rub more of your body, but that was the problem. This wasn’t right. You felt that saccharine heat creeping up your spine and seeping into your head, but you shouldn’t be feeling that for anyone else besides the man behind you.
Now guilt casts a shadow over you too, and the pair of emotions was a volatile mix. You didn’t even realize it, but your nipples had started to stiffen. Your thighs shift against each other, and had you really been paying attention, you would have seen the way Chris’s lips slightly quirked up into a smirk. Your body gets a little tense as you run through the possibilities of what you should do in this situation.
As if Leon could sense your thoughts racing, his hand lowers and starts rubbing your arm. Deciding to remain where you are for now, you press your cheek against his bicep for comfort. Not that you could see, but just like Chris, his expression grows smug. His hand readjusts again so it’s closer to your chest. Your eyes widen as he basically starts feeling you up. His hand squeezes your breast before his fingers circle your nipple, gently tweaking the hardened bud.
At the same time, the hands on your legs start moving higher. The broad strokes begin meeting your thighs too. Little bumps of anticipation erupt across your skin. You already knew your center would soon be slick.
Your head feels hot now. It made you feel a weird kind of dizzy. Even though it was only a few hands and simple touches, it was so much. Combined with the fact that it was so unusual, you started feeling overwhelmed. Your pulse pounds in your ears and your hands feel tingly. You feel a whimper rising in your throat. When he finally glides his hands up to the hem of your shorts, your legs jerk and you scoot back.
By the time Chris looks over, you’re already in Leon’s lap, arms around him, face buried against his neck. He’s worried for a second that something was seriously wrong. Profuse apologies rush to the tip of his tongue, but Leon signals him to just wait.
“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” he coos, a hand sliding beneath your shirt to rub your back. Of course, he knew the answer already. He knew exactly how you got with this kind of stuff which is why he knew exactly how to handle it.
You end up simply shaking your head, unable to articulate the exact reason for your distress. Because really, nothing was wrong. Everything felt right. But it shouldn’t feel right? Maybe that’s what was wrong. That’s too much for your mouth to get out while you feel like this though.
“Aw, is my pretty girl feeling shy?” he whispers and strokes your hair.
You nod, pulling back a little to reveal your face and look up at the familiar set of eyes you found so much comfort in. He gives you a small kiss of reassurance before continuing to coax you with his low and soothing tone.
“Oh sweetheart, why are you shy? You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about,” he says.
“Because…” you start softly, nervously glancing at Chris only to see him watching the entire exchange. You force your attention back to your boyfriend. “Because Chris is here.”
His chest rumbles with a low laugh. “Oh, princess. That’s not a reason. Didn’t you like how Chris was touching you? Wasn’t he making you feel good?”
“I guess…” you admit.
“See? You don’t have to be embarrassed around daddy’s friend. He only wants to play with you because you’re so cute,” he teases and lands a barrage of kisses on your cheek.
You were going to freak out about him using the d word in front of someone else, but looking over at Chris, he didn’t look at all shocked. His eyes were soft and comforting as they watched you, but you were still a little uncertain. You turn your face back into Leon. He keeps rubbing your back and holds you a little closer on his lap.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, baby. I just think you’d have a lot of fun,” Leon says softly, “You know how wet that pretty pussy gets thinking about someone else watching you with daddy, joining in because he just can’t resist a good girl like you.”
He was right. He knew your fantasies like the exact situation playing out in your living room right now. But it was scarier when it was real. You didn’t have the control anymore. That's what made it exciting too though.
“It’s just Chris, honey,” he continues reassuring you, “He’d never hurt you. He thinks you're as precious as I do. But even still, daddy’s gonna be here the whole time. You know I’d never let anything hurt my girl.”
You soften up more, relaxing under Leon’s touch and tender words. As you’re thinking it over, leaning towards going through with this, Chris scoots closer to the two of you on the couch. He tentatively places his hand on your leg and caresses your skin.
“It’s up to you, babydoll,” he says, “I only wanna help your daddy make you feel good.”
Oh god. He was a natural at this, talked down to you just the way you liked.
“See, princess? There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Leon says. He strokes some of your hair back and watches as you look at the other man, deciding whether to let him in or not. He chuckles in your ear. “He’s acting cool, but you don’t know how bad he’s been wanting a turn with you. I’m sure you’ve seen him staring. Sometimes I think he’s practically drooling watching you. You know he goes home and strokes his dick raw, wishing it was your pretty little hands instead.”
It’s obvious there’s some truth to Leon’s statement from the way Chris remains silent. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you mull it over. Why was it so bad? You wanted it and they both wanted it. Why should you stop yourself?
You look up at your boyfriend and nod, silently communicating that you wanted this. He smiles and shifts you in his lap so that you’re in a more accessible position. One hand rubs your inner thighs while his other arm stays wrapped around your body to hold you close.
Upon seeing your confirmation, Chris comes even closer. As he gets situated, Leon leans in and connects his lips with yours in a few soft kisses. Your noses brush and breathing deepens. He strokes your cheek before pulling away and looking in your eyes.
“Why don’t you try that with Chris, baby? Give him some of those kisses he’s been dreaming about,” he breathes.
Your focus shifts to the man sitting to your boyfriend’s right. Eyes casting down, you bring your head forward, and Chris closes the gap. Your breath hitches when you feel the unfamiliar lips meet your own. They’re noticeably different from the pair you were used to, but it wasn’t a bad different.
You move your lips with his, shuddering a little when you feel him grunt. He struggles not to take more than what you give. Leon watches on with a grin, stroking your hair and making sure it was out of your face. Your hand maintains an iron grip on him the entire time.
“Such a good girl,” he purrs in your ear.
All three of you had long stopped paying attention to the tv, so Leon shuts it off. He then leans in to suck little love bites onto your throat. You whine into your kisses with his friend. The sound causes you to open your mouth, allowing Chris to slip his tongue in to meet yours. You moan and reciprocate the advance. His smiles against your lips as his hand glides up and gropes at one of your breasts, drawing another whimper from you.
Several hickeys later, Leon removes his mouth from your neck to admire his work. His fingers drag over the wet, darkened skin. He licks one more stripe over the area before leaning back and pulling you with him. You’re slightly out of breath, eyes dilated, and lips a bit puffy.
“Aw, look at that face,” Leon teases, talking more to Chris than you, “She loves her kisses. Sometimes I think she likes it more than the actual fucking.”
“I could tell. All those sweet sounds she was making,” Chris chuckles. His chest rises and falls in a pattern similar to yours.
“Oh yeah, so sensitive, my baby,” Leon coos, “You wanna go sit in Chris’s lap and give him some more kisses?”
You shake your head and tighten your grip on his hand. They both smile at your timid display.
“My mistake. You just gotta give her some time to adjust. She’s not used to anyone but daddy. Isn’t that right?” Leon jokes.
You nod and snake your arms around him, hiding your face against his chest again. He couldn’t get enough of how clingy you became when you felt like this.
“No, no. No more being shy. C’mon, his lips still have your spit on ‘em. There’s no reason for you to hide,” he teases you and guides your head back up to see your eyes, “You still wanna do this, don’t you?”
You nod again, looking up at him with those loving eyes.
“That’s what I thought, so how about this?” he starts. He gets your arms to unlock from their position around him and tucks his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt. “How about we show daddy’s friend more of this precious body, yeah?”
You lift your arms and allow him to tug the fabric up and over your head. Your breasts spring free, but his hands are immediately there to cup them, knead the flesh, and tease your nipples. From his place next to the two of you, Chris’s eyes drop to the swell of your chest.
“You’re even prettier than Leon told me, baby,” he coos before leaning in, giving you one more kiss and then trailing his lips down the side of your throat. They glide over the warm skin and across the expanse of your chest.
Your boyfriend’s hands drop from your breasts, letting Chris’s take their place. You shift and lean back so your back is pressed to Leon’s chest, giving the other man more access. He fondles them before latching his mouth onto a nipple, his tongue swirling around the little peak. A little sigh escapes your lips to the pleasure of both men.
“I think she likes that, Chris,” Leon croons, his hands rubbing up and down your sides.
Chris sucks on the pebbled nub a bit more before alternating to the other one. He spends less time over there before just kissing all over your chest.
“Got such pretty tits,” he grunts, laving a tongue across your skin.
Your face heats up at the compliment, and of course, Leon knew without even having to look. He could tell by the slight way you squirmed your hips on his lap.
“Aw, princess. You like when daddy’s friend calls you pretty?” he coos. Once he sees your little nod, he continues. “How about you let him pull down your shorts and see how cute your cunt is next.”
You agree to this with no hesitation, trying to elevate your hips so he could remove your clothing. Chris smirks at your overt desire. In a quick move, he scoots back and pulls by your hips so that you’re laying across the couch again. Your head is on Leon’s thigh so you can look up at him while your fingers remain tightly interlaced with his.
The larger man peels your shorts off and then your panties. He gazes upon your dripping cunt. His thumb drags up and down through your slick in an exploratory touch.
“Oh, honey,” he breathes, circling your clit. His hand moves down again before he slides two fingers into your hole. “You’re gonna take our cocks so well. Pussy this pretty is made for that.”
You suck in a gasp that turns into a long whine as his digits fill you up. His fingers were nice and thick, filling you up just right. Your eyes flutter, and your head presses against Leon’s thigh. Chris starts pumping them in and out, stroking your inner walls.
“That’s right, baby,” Leon reassures you, “He’s gonna open you up, and you’re gonna feel so good.”
A breathy whimper falls from your lips. Your hips rock a little, but Chris allows it, enjoying your enthusiasm as you become more comfortable. You feel his fingers curling within you in motions that drive you wild and have your hands grabbing at the edges of the couch cushion beneath you.
“There you go, sweet baby. Am I doing it right?” Chris asks teasingly. With your frantic nod, he works a third finger into you. Your eyes roll back and you choke out a moan.
Leon smiles down at you and strokes your hair. His bulge grows harder, watching you get so wound up for his friend.
“Make sure you rub her pretty little clit, Chris. She loves that,” he says, “Might be a little sore since she likes to play with it so much.”
Chris grins at that, taking his turn to tease you now. “Is that right? You like playing dirty, princess? I bet you can’t help it. Cute girls like you get needy so easy. Can’t think without making yourself cum every few hours, yeah?”
“Mhm,” you whimper and nod.
“I’ll be gentle then. Think your sweet spot just needs some special kisses,” he coos.
He bends down so his mouth can be level with your cunt, a bit of a challenge with his size, but he manages. His lips meet your clit and give you some soft kisses. A little flick of the tongue and the light movement of his flesh against your sensitive bundle of nerves has your walls fluttering around him, little mewls escaping your lips.
Then, with a harsh suck to your clit, he works a fourth finger inside you. Your legs kick a little, but he simply slides them to rest on his shoulders. Every little twitch next to his head has more of his blood rushing south. Your hips buck too as you adjust to the minor stretch.
“You’re daddy’s perfect girl, you know that right? Girl of my fuckin’ dreams. Doing so good for me right now,” your boyfriend says from above you. His eyes watch on fondly as Chris slides basically his entire hand in and out of you. “Think you can cum for Chris, baby? Gush all over his fingers so it’s nice and easy for him and daddy to fill you up?”
You nod quickly.
Chris sucks harder on your clit and flicks his tongue against you with more fervor. His hand finds a rhythm that you seemed to like, had you twitching more than before. He could hear your voice rising to a higher pitch.
“C’mon, pretty girl. Make your daddy proud,” he murmurs against your folds.
You really don’t know what it was, but that phrase does you in. You turn your face against Leon’s hip, dig your fingers into his palm, and erupt into a frenzy of whining and bucking your hips.
Chris continues his efforts, relishing the sensation of your slick coating his fingers and palm. His lips gradually loosen on your swollen bud. He gives it a few more licks before sitting up and gazing down at your blissed out body.
They both give you a second to rest before Leon sits you up on the couch. He gives you a quick kiss and looks into your eyes, hazy from release.
“Think you’re ready for daddy and Chris to fuck you?” he coos and rubs your cheek.
“Mhm,” you hum, returning his loving stare.
“Of course you are. My sweet girl,” he says.
The two men don’t waste time undressing themselves. Clothing piles up on the ground as they match your nudity. Both of them stand as they undo their belts and drop their pants. You’d seen Leon’s dick a hundred times by now. You watch him pull it out and give it a few strokes. The tip flushes bright red like always, a couple familiar veins span up the side. You turn your attention to Chris, looking upon a sight you hadn’t seen before.
You’re snapped out of your post-orgasm stupor when you catch a glimpse of the appendage hanging between Chris’s legs. Just like every other part of him, it’s noticeably thick. The length was good too, sure, but it wasn’t the main attraction. His cock didn’t get as red as Leon’s, but it still had the veins. He even had a few beads of white, sticky precum leaking from the head.
“Oh, you like what you see, baby?” Leon teases when he notices your wonder, “I’m sure Chris would be happy to let you suck on it next time.”
“Daddy, it’s not gonna fit,” you say, looking up at him and ignoring the tempting idea of giving Chris a blowjob.
He smiles down at you, simultaneously condescending and affectionate. “Of course it will. C’mere, princess,” he says.
In no time at all, Leon’s back on the couch, guiding you on top of him. You crawl to meet the place he’s directing you. Lowering yourself against him, your front rests against his and your head lies near the crook of his neck. The warmth of his body comforts you but not enough to push out your concerns completely.
“You don’t have to worry, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you nice and comfy on daddy’s cock, and then Chris will just slide right in,” he reassures you, “You’re gonna feel so good. You just let me take care of everything.”
His arm had already slithered beneath your hip to line up his shaft with your entrance. He runs the tip through your soaked folds then pushes in. A whiny moan escapes you, and your arms wrap tighter around him. The feeling wasn’t a new one, but it still felt so good. He works himself in and out slowly, hips rocking off the couch in small thrusts.
“That’s my girl, taking it just like you’re meant to. I’ve got you trained so well,” he murmurs against your hair.
The entire time, you feel Chris’s eyes on you. His pupils fixated on the sight of Leon pumping in and out of your gushing cunt. You hear him spit down onto his hand and know he’s started to stroke himself in anticipation. Other than that, he stays quiet, locked onto you sucking up every inch of your boyfriend's cock.
Leon continues gliding in and out. You feel the muscles in his chest and neck straining with the pleasure your pulsing walls give him.
“Fuck, you’re so wet. Chris did a good job with you,” he groans. His breaths become ragged as he staves off true euphoria. This couldn’t end too quickly. “You know, babydoll, I don’t think you said thank you to Chris for making you feel so good. That’s not very nice.”
You whimper as your brain registers the implication of his words. At the moment, you were more focused on rolling your hips with Leon’s, but you force some words out of your mouth cause you’re a good girl after all.
“Sorry daddy,” you say, cut off by a whine as he pokes a sensitive spot, “T-thank you, Chris.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he responds. You can hear the satisfaction in his voice, but you don’t have the chance to linger on it since you feel his broad palm land on the small of your back. His fingers rub the skin gently, as if to keep you calm while he positions himself on his knees behind you. You whine again and cling harder to Leon.
“You can say thank you better than that, baby,” he teases, trying to keep any fear away from you. He presses a kiss to your temple as well and rubs your back, “What are you thanking him for?”
“Thank you for making me cum, Chris. Your fingers and kisses felt so good,” you whimper, adding on the last bit before Leon could correct you further.
“Oh, you’re welcome,” he repeats with excessive adoration, “You deserve it for being such a good girl. Besides, that pussy was so fucking sweet, makes me want another taste.”
You squeeze around Leon and bite your lip as your lower belly erupts with butterflies. And then you feel it. You feel the hot tip of Chris’s heavy cock nudging at your entrance above Leon’s. You tense and dig your fingers into the flesh of his back.
“Just relax, baby. You’re gonna be just fine. Daddy’s right here,” he coos and holds you tighter against his chest.
“You ready?” Chris asks softly.
You squeeze your eyes shut but nod, waiting to feel the stretch.
And it comes right away. You gasp as another cock enters you. Whining, your hands scramble to grab at something. Leon takes one and squeezes it lovingly, pausing his thrusts. You bury your face against his skin, your chest erratically puffing as you try to accommodate the sizes. Both men are groaning, eyes fluttering or rolled back, muscles flexing as they take in the tight, wet heat engulfing them.
“Doing so good, pretty girl, so good,” Leon mutters.
You can’t fathom any kind of response. The burning sensation of both of them was still so intense and from what you could tell, Chris wasn’t even all the way in yet. He was still pushing forward as far as he could. At a certain point, you can’t fight off the tears pricking at your waterline. Your free hand clamps over your mouth as a choked cry tumbles out.
“So fucking tight, I could cum right now,” Chris grunts.
Leon’s hand covers your right hip, tracing tiny soothing circles over your skin. Chris occupies your left, digging his fingers into the flesh. The subtle difference between the two sides drives you further into the throes of ecstasy.
When Chris manages to bully his cock nearly all the way inside you, as deep as it could go at least, Leon feels your hot tears sliding off your cheeks and pooling on his chest.
“Oh, poor baby,” he croons. He lets go of your hand for a second to swipe a few drops away, but then he takes it back. “You ok, honey? Too much for you?”
You weakly shake your head that it wasn’t too much, sniffling between whimpers. They’ve both stopped now to let you get used to the entirety of them. The site of your connection pulses with need on all three accounts. You feel Chris gripping you a little harder in an effort to keep his composure.
“My tough girl, so brave for daddy. Makin’ me so proud,” he whispers and kisses your hairline.
“So fuckin’ pretty too. You look gorgeous all filled up like this,” Chris moans from behind you.
His gaze remains on his and Leon’s cocks splitting you open. He starts rocking his hips a bit, groaning at the combined feeling of your slick walls with Leon’s length rubbing against his. Leon starts moving again too.
You let out a sound that’s between a yelp and a moan. Both of Leon’s arms snake around you to keep you engulfed in his embrace. He’s more vocal than usual, the mix of stimulation getting to him as well.
“That’s right. You keep crying for your daddy. Let me hear how much you need me. Just cry it out like the good little girl you are,” he mumbles against you.
Once you’ve become comfortable with the stretch, it starts feeling better than you’d imagined. In tandem, they’re stroking every part of you. They slide in and out, back and forth, pulling soft whines from you. The only noise apart from the three of you grunting and moaning, is the obscene noises that come from them pumping into your wet pussy. You feel your ability for coherent thoughts slipping away. You just wanted to be full of your daddy and his friend.
Chris smacks your ass while picking up his pace a bit. “Now she’s getting into it,” he says.
You get a little louder to both their enjoyment. Grabbing at Leon a little more, you shudder while hearing moans bubble up from his chest and out of his mouth.
“That’s cause you’re such a good girl. Right baby?” he asks, his voice breathier, “So good at whining for your daddy’s cock.”
You nod without a second thought. You’re panting a bit as the thrusts start hitting just right. Your expressions and the tightening of your cunt give you away. You hear both of them groaning and getting a little more primal with their movements.
“You feel that, Chris? She’s getting closer. Can always tell by the way her pussy starts trying to keep me in. So desperate for some cum,” Leon says.
“Yeah. I can feel her cute little cunt begging for it,” Chris growls.
They’re both going harder, making your mind get all fuzzy and causing more tears to fall, although by this time they’re purely tears of pleasure. Your cries are whiny and needy.
“My baby, my baby,” Leon grunts while lacing his fingers in your hair, “I want you to cum for me, ok? Wanna feel you cumming all over our cocks. Show Chris how good you make me feel every single night when you start clamping down on me.”
You don’t finish right then. It takes a handful more thrusts from each of them to hit the right buttons and work you over that edge, dropping you into a pool of euphoria. The bliss washes over you, and as Leon described, your pussy squeezes around them in waves. They’re both moaning now, grabbing you harder, sighing and gasping. You twitch on top of Leon, and he holds you close and helps you through it.
“Look at that sweet face. Always so pretty when you let go,” he mumbles just for you to hear, “Keep cumming, dolly. Want you feeling like you’re in heaven.”
Leon’s the first to blow his load, shooting it deep inside you. He pumps it in while you’re still releasing. His own hips twitch and buck while that hot, sticky liquid flows from him.
Chris takes a bit longer, savoring every last moment he has inside your precious cunt. He keeps thrusting after you’ve finished, making you squirm with the slight overstimulation. Leon hisses too, feeling the friction from his movements against his dick.
When he finally does cum, your body is overtaken with a shiver. He fucks it deep into you. His thrusts don’t weaken while he spills it inside of you. He keeps moving in powerful strokes until he’s satisfied.
After he’s truly done, Chris leans down and kisses the space between your shoulder blades. “So good, pretty baby,” he praises softly before pulling out.
It feels weird just having Leon’s dick in you. It’s your normal but so strange now too. He slides himself out next though, so there isn’t too much time to fester on that. Sitting up, he pulls you with him while covering your face in kisses.
Everyone is laid back right now, letting the post-high wear off as you all come down. You stay curled up to Leon like you always did after finishing. He rubs your back like normal, knowing your head was most likely still up in the clouds. Eventually, all of your breathing steadies and returns to a regular pace.
Your hazy eyes open and gaze over at Chris. “Thank you Chris,” you say, tone a bit dreamier than it usually is.
“You’re welcome, honey,” he says, smiling at you.
“Look at you, so polite,” Leon teases, “By the looks of it, you’re gonna be sitting on Chris’s lap soon enough and leaving me on the sidelines.”
You shake your head and nuzzle him. All of you take a brief moment to finish the descent back to normalcy. Chris stands to pull on his pants again.
“We’ll get there one of these days,” he jokes.
“I don’t know about that. This one’s a daddy’s girl before anything else,” Leon says, before smooching your forehead.
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy smut#resident evil imagines#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut#smut#chris redfield x y/n#chris redfield x reader#chris redfield x you#chris redfield smut#chris redfield imagine
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lavender roses
luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians
[fem!daughter of persephone reader]
summary: everyone thinks red roses are synonymous with the perfect love. you believe that lavender roses deserve more love, and luke believes that you’re worthy of all the love in the world—you’re both just bad at communicating it.
warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive content, mentions of weapons, idiots, miscommunication trope but it’s cute dw, seriously they’re both so stupid and oblivious, besties to idiots to lovers
word count: 3.3k
(y’all i’m losing my mind i can’t stop writing but this might be one of my favourites ever)
(also i might put together a luke taglist and a clarisse taglist so lmk if you wanna be put on either of those and i’ll get to work on it 🤩)
———————————————
“i’m free february fourteenth,” you said nonchalantly.
you were sitting with luke at dinner and he’d just asked you if you ever had a day off working. as a daughter of persephone, you lived in the hermes cabin, but spent most of your time working in the strawberry fields. you spent every free moment there, soaking in the sun, helping the plants grow and picking flowers to put in vases around the cabin and infirmary.
he nodded as chris choked on his food beside him, coughing hard. “okay, we should hang out then.”
you weren’t sure if he knew what was going on. was he messing with you? playing a joke? really wanting to hang out with you on valentine’s day? or was he having a lapse of memory and he forgot that day had any significance at all?
either way, you nodded. when you spoke, your voice was slightly higher pitched than usual. “sure.”
“we can have a picnic. we haven’t done that in a while.” he was nodding still, looking into his food with a thoughtful expression.
the air nearly left your lungs. you nodded back, though he wasn’t looking at you, and exchanged a wide-eyed look with chris across the table. sure, you and luke used to go for picnics occasionally, but that was before he’d gotten unfairly attractive overnight and you’d developed the most annoying crush on him. “yeah, sure. it’s a date.”
if you could have jumped into tartarus you would have.
what the fuck. why would you say that?
chris was staring at you in shock.
your mouth was dry.
and luke was smiling like nothing was wrong. were his cheeks red? or was that your imagination? “yup! it’s a date.”
when he got up from the table to leave after dinner, he kissed your cheek. this wasn’t too far out of the ordinary, per se—it happened occasionally—but it sent a rush of adrenaline shooting down your spine and set your cheeks aflame.
chris’ eyebrows were raised. “what was that?”
“i have no idea,” you breathed.
“do you think he knows?”
your voice was even softer as you shook your head. “dude. i have no idea.”
valentine’s day couldn’t come soon enough.
you could hardly think of anything else. zoning out in the fields, losing focus while sparring, getting distracted by luke’s shoulder muscles while he was drawing back his bow, sending your arrow flying off to the side.
he laughed at you with everyone else, coming over to stand by your side. “you good there? need any help?”
you shook your head, your quaking fingers drawing the string back once more, pulling it taut. archery wasn’t your best skill, but you weren’t terrible at it.
you could feel his eyes on you, judging your form, analysing your aim. it put you off.
your arrow barely hit the target.
luke winced. “that was… better.”
you sighed and lowered the bow. “you’re distracting me!”
he laughed. “i’m distracting you?”
“yes!” you huffed, frowning at him. his eyes were lit up with amusement. “you are.”
“well, then i’m very sorry.” he raised his hands and took a step back, dipping his head too. “as you were, milady.”
you rolled your eyes with a smile and drew your arrow back, aiming and firing, but it still didn’t do well. in fact, every arrow that you shot pierced outside of the black rings. you were starting to think there was either something wrong with the bow or that you’d been cursed by one of the apollo kids, when someone’s hand lowered your elbow.
you looked over to see luke. he wasn’t watching your face. he was guiding your elbow down so it was more level with your arrow’s line and gently pulling your shoulders back so they were more even.
“pull back a bit more,” he coached quietly.
“i know what i’m doing,” you protested.
“i know, but today you look like you need a reminder. do you want my help? or do you wanna keep missing?” he finally looked you in the eye. he was sincere, you realised.
you sighed and draw the arrow back a little more.
he nodded happily and continued guiding your stance until you were perfect, his hands hot on your body and his breath on the back of your neck. he stayed behind you as you lowered the arrow and took a few deep breaths.
you were still watching him over your shoulder. his lips quirked as he reached out and gently turned your face away to look at the target. his hand was calloused and rough, but the tough was soft. you could barely breathe.
“focus,” he said softly. “eyes on the prize.”
you’re the only prize i want, was all you could think, but you didn’t say anything. you drew the arrow back, your fingers brushing against the corner of your lips. you felt better—more powerful, more confident—in this stance. and maybe luke’s presence behind you was helping with that too. you could feel the slight ghost of his hand on your waist. it kept you grounded. it stopped you from floating away.
your arrow pierced just beside the bullseye.
luke’s hand tightened on your waist, squeezing proudly. “that’s my girl.”
your heart fluttered as you smiled. “thanks, luke.”
he patted your lower back as he stepped away. “that’s what i’m here for. go kill it.”
then he was gone, and there was a fiery pit in your stomach that grew with each passing day that told you that—oh shit—you were in fully love with luke castellan.
february fourteenth arrived in a flurry of pinks, reds and whites. hearts adorned the camp, courtesy of the aphrodite cabin, and you and the demeter cabin had been tasked with growing what felt like hundreds of red roses. personally, you didn’t understand the hype surrounding red roses. after all, the lavender ones were the prettiest. they even meant love at first sight—far better than plain old love.
but with all the love in the air and the aphrodite campers swooning left and right, luke was sure to figure out his mistake and call off the picnic. it made you feel sick with anxiety, and your hands shook as you tended to the roses.
“y/n, hey!” luke’s voice came right next to you.
you flinched and the rose bush sprouted ten feet in the air with new flowers springing into existence left and right.
“whoa…” he said, looking up at it in shock. “i don’t think we need that many.”
“i don’t think anyone needs that many.” you muttered and took a deep breath, bringing the bush back down to size. “what are you doing here, luke?” your heart was in your throat. he didn’t look upset, but he’d always been good at hiding his emotions. was he about to tell you that he didn’t want to meet up later? or that he hated you for tricking him? thoughts started spinning like tops in your mind as you sunk into worse scenario after worse scenario.
“i just wanted to make sure we were still on for this afternoon? and to let you know to meet me by the lake.” were you imagining things, or did he look almost… nervous? his cheeks were red and he wasn’t meeting your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. was he? really?
you nodded. “oh, uh, yeah. we’re still on. i’ll meet you…?”
“at two?”
“at two.” you smiled. he smiled back and you ignored the flutter in your chest. a strand of hair blew in front of your face.
his hand twitched by his side, like he wanted to push it back, but he just nodded. “okay. see you later.”
“later,” you nodded as he walked away. “can’t wait!” you called after him. he shot a grin over his shoulder, and once he was gone, you buried your face in the rose bush with an exasperated groan.
at 1:45, you still didn’t know what to wear.
your friend becky had dragged you into the aphrodite cabin and was shoving various outfits into your arms to try on, since you didn’t have many nice outfits of your own, but nothing was right.
even though you were the same size as her, nothing seemed to fit you as well as it did her—some aphrodite’s daughter bullshit, you guessed.
she sat down on her bunk next to you and sighed. “i hate to say it, but… we’re out of options.”
you groaned and flopped backwards, covering your face.
she swatted your hands away. “you’ll smudge your makeup!” she then sat back and sighed. “honestly, hun, you might just have to go naked.”
“i’m sure he’d love that!” one of her brothers called from across the room.
you threw a pillow at him, but it dropped halfway there.
then becky froze with a gasp. “oh, my gods.”
you sat up. “what?”
“wait here.” she got up and dashed away, peering into the depths of her wardrobe.
you watched absently, kind of worried she’d pull out some sexy lingerie, as she felt around at the very back, in the corner. then her face lit up. she pulled out a dress. it was white and floaty, with tiny pale pink flowers on it and the most flattering neckline you’d ever seen. she held it out to you and then dragged you to the designated changing area beside her bunk.
you changed slowly, not wanting to rip the delicate material, then looked at yourself in the mirror.
holy shit.
becky stuck her head around the corner and gasped. “perfect! ugh, i feel like a proud mother.”
you laughed, smoothing the floaty fabric over your thighs. it was kind of staticky. “yeah, thanks, mom.”
she grabbed your arm and dragged you out, showing you off. “siblings! my magnum opus.”
as whistles and cheers came from the few people in the cabin, you smiled.
“he’ll love it,” becky whispered. “you look hot.”
“it’s not even a date,” you protested. “it’s just a hang out.”
“sweet cheeks, its a picnic on valentine’s day.” she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “it’s a date. now go. you’re gonna be late.”
you slipped on your white sandals and the light green jacket you always wore, let silena slip a white headband into your hair, then stepped out the door.
it wasn’t a cold day, exactly, but you were grateful for the jacket.
you rushed down the lake and got there two minutes late.
luke was no where to be found.
great, you thought. he was messing with me the whole time.
just as you were considering leaving, you heard footsteps running up to you.
“y/n! i’m so sorry, i could figure out—oh, wow...” luke stopped in his tracks as you turned around. his eyes were wide and his cheeks were red as he looked you up and down. he cleared his throat. “i didn’t know what to wear.”
he’d settled on a navy blue crew neck sweater and black jeans. his hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he looked good. really good.
shit. that would make things more difficult.
“it’s okay,” you smiled. “neither could i.”
“well, you look… you look amazing.” his voice was soft, almost reverent.
gods, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop blushing. this was torture. “thanks,” you said though, pretending your heart wasn’t climbing up your throat and threatening to jump right into his hands—like suicide. “should we—“
“oh! yeah.” he nodded and stepped forward, placing a hand on your back (just low enough that it made your heart stutter, but high enough that it was innocent) and leading you towards the strawberry fields. “this way, milady.”
your heart was sinking a little as the fields came into view. everyone went to the strawberry fields. there were at least seven couples there already. it was the standard date spot. you had to remind yourself this wasn’t a date.
but he led you past the fields and into the forest.
great, so he’ll just murder me instead, you thought bitterly. it was like you were searching for a reason that it wasn’t a date now. at least i won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of everyone seeing.
you snapped out of your thoughts as his hand gently slipped into yours and you nearly fell over. he looked back at you, amused. you shot him a thumbs up as he set down a familiar path.
you knew where you were going.
there was a clearing in the woods where you went. it was you own personal secret garden, hidden deep in the forest behind a thick hedge that you’d grown yourself. it had taken weeks to get it thick enough to keep your space safe, and weeks again to regain enough strength to add any other plants to it. in the last year though, you’d been going there often, coaxing a few new plants to grow. you’d learned that forcing growth was hard and near impossible, but encouraging growth was easy.
you’d shown luke the garden one day a few months ago, just before you developed that pesky crush.
he pulled you gently in front of him to enter the garden first, through a magically shifting gap in the hedge, so that he could enter too, and stepped aside to pick up a hefty bag hidden just off the path.
you stepped through the hedge, your hand still linked with luke’s, and into your garden. it was the same as last time you were there, around a week ago; filled with flowers and bees, with a patch of clear grass in the middle, linked to the hedge by four paths, running north to south and east to west. some of the flowers growing were out of season, but as a daughter of persephone, you had a certain level of influence over things like that. bees buzzed lazily around your head as you entered, happy to see you again. everything seemed to get happier, healthier and brighter the second you stepped into the garden. it was your favourite thing and your favourite place.
you looked back at luke to see him smiling at you. “you know me too well.”
“i knew you wouldn’t like to have everyone around,” he shrugged. “and i wanted to see this place again. it’s better than last time i was here.” he looked around in wonder.
“well, last time you were here, i’d just gotten over the flu, so i was still pretty weak. all of my hydrangeas wilted.” you pouted and crossed the garden to your hydrangea bush, blooming in all ranges of colours. soil acidity and pH didn’t matter if you were the daughter of persephone.
luke laid down a plaid picnic blanket as you murmured a few words to some of your weaker looking plants, breathing life back into them. you could feel his eyes on you as he sat and waited, but you didn’t feel rushed or observed. more than anything, you felt admired.
finally, you sat next to him. he’d set out some food and water bottles for the two of you. he was prepared. that was one thing about luke castellan: he was prepared, always two steps ahead. which is why this didn’t make sense.
as you started eating, you found yourself staring at a lavender rose bush. love at first sight, you mused. if only.
you’d fallen for luke after a whole year of friendship. that made it worse. you’d loved him already, platonically, then, without warning, those feeling shifted. the way you looked at him changed in a matter of moments. when he’d gotten cherries on his plate for dessert after you were told you couldn’t have more, then he’d given them all to you, claiming he didn’t like them (even though you knew he did), you fell stupidly, irrevocably, in love. but the way he looked at you never changed: always soft, always kind and always the same.
you were drawn to look at him. you always were. the sharp lines and soft curves of his face. those dark eyes that made your heart flutter never wavered as they met yours. never shifted, never darkened, never clouded with anger. never. they were as constant as time, as reliable as the tide, as predictable as the full moon coming around again.
and he was looking at you now. “what?” he asked.
you blinked and looked away, watching as two bees clumsily bumped into each other and went on their way. “nothing.” would that be you and luke? two bees bumping into each other briefly, then going on with their lives? unlikely to cross paths again? you couldn’t let that happen.
“you know it’s valentine’s, right?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
luke lowered his apple, resting his hand on his knee. his forehead was creased in a confused frown. “yeah, why?”
“well… then why… why are we hanging out today? i mean, this isn’t a date.” you paused. “is it?”
his eyes widened. “wait, you don’t think—“
“it’s fine, luke.” you shrugged, pretending your heart wasn’t crumbling. “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have brought up valentines. it was a silly joke, and—“
“a joke?” he frowned again. “this isn’t a joke.”
you looked at him. he looked earnest. “what?”
“it’s not a joke. why would i joke about going on a date with you?” he swallowed tightly and put his apple down. “did you… did you just think it was a joke?”
“no! well, yes. but i didn’t want it to be.” you exclaimed. “did… you want it to be?”
“no!” he exclaimed, turning to face you. “why would i want that? i thought we’ve been dating for three weeks now!”
“you, what?”
he took a deep breath. “you’re telling me that i’ve been assuming we’re dating for three weeks, and you’ve been assuming i’ve been joking for three weeks, because we’re both a little bit fucking stupid and can’t communicate our feelings properly?”
you stared at him, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. the static crackled like the tension in the air. “i guess so.”
“huh.” he said, turning back to face the flowers. he was silent for a moment and you almost thought he’d leave, but then he started laughing.
“stop laughing,” you protested, pushing him lightly, your cheeks flaming hot. “stop it.”
he didn’t.
soon, you weren’t able to stop yourself from giggling, then you were both laughing uncontrollably. your stomach hurt and you had to lean on each other to avoid falling over. your faces were close—too close. your laughter died as you felt his breath on your face. his fingers brushed your hair behind your ear. his breath hitched as he did, like he’d been waiting to do that for months.
“i’ve liked you for months,” you whispered.
“i’ve liked you since the moment we met,” he cupped your face in his hand, his other one resting on your knee.
you could see the lavender roses behind him. love at first sight.
the two bees that had bumped into each other settled on the same flower.
fucking hell.
you kissed him before you could talk yourself out of it.
the kiss wasn’t like fireworks. it was more like the first flowers of spring: fresh, exciting and pure. his lips were soft. yours were probably rougher than his from your long hours in the fields. you figured he didn’t care, because he kissed you like you were the only air he needed to breath for the rest of his life. you could feel flowers blooming around the picnic blanket—daisies and dandelions in the grass. the plants in the gardens were going wild. he was like a drug; some kind of amplifier for your powers and your heart rate and gods, you never wanted to let him go. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer against him. your hand rose to his cheek and static electricity jumped from your skin to his.
he pulled away with a gasp, his hand on his cheek. then he laughed, and kissed you again.
and again.
and again.
and again.
and you were infinitely glad for the privacy of your own secret garden.
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo#pjo tv show#pjo x reader#charlie bushnell
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What Are We (3 of 4)
John Price x Female Reader
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): light angst, soft!Price, heavy suggestive themes, canon-typical swearing
Word Count: 978
A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series
Not interested in playing games, Price makes it clear what he wants.
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // what are we masterlist
“Are we doing this or no, love?”
You glance up from your morning tea, surprised. “What?”
John crosses his arm and leans against the edge of the counter. He’s only wearing sweatpants, and his bare chest is distracting. He might be older, but John is just as strong as the younger men that work under him. Those large arms of his are all corded muscle and protruding vein. His chest and stomach have a thickness to them that speaks to more than simply going to the gym.
“Us,” he replies. “What are we? What are we doing?” He sounds slightly huffy. Not angry, just impatient. In need of an answer.
You swallow down the burning liquid and nearly grimace from the heat. “I—what do you mean?”
One eyebrow rises, almost in chastisement. Which is fair since you know what John is pushing back about even as you feign innocence. Right now, you don’t want to face the reality. What you and John have is so peaceful that pushing it forward—or back—might disrupt the quiet, shattering it all like smashed glass.
John sighs, and reaches out, placing his large palm over the mouth of your tea mug. His fingers grip it, and you know to let it go, to release your hold. John sets the mug down on the counter next to him.
Spreading his legs, John uncrosses his arms, holding them out in front of him. “Come here,” he murmurs, and the tone is so soft and inviting that you immediately comply, entering his arms like melted butter over toast.
Fuck, he’s warm. A furnace.
You wrap your arms around his middle, and John does the same, tucking you against his body. “We live together,” he says.
“Yes.”
“We sleep in the same bed.”
You nod. “That we do.”
The corner of his mouth twitches with amusement. “I’ve met your bloody parents.”
“What’s your point?” you ask, haughty and stubborn.
Price’s hand drops lower. Squeezes. The power behind it forces you further against him, and you feel everything, especially the hardness that hasn’t appeared to abate since the morning’s quickie.
“My point, is that we need to call this what is it.”
Shit. This is it. You’re going to have to face the reality of this and look it in the face. You and Price are not simply friends. You are not even friends with benefits or a uncomplicated fling. This is real. Truly and utterly real and yet you keep denying what sits in front of you.
You and John are a couple. That is what this is.
He has met your parents. He has met your friends. You know his coworkers—at least the ones he trusts enough to share your existence with. The two of you talk about the future together, never pivoting away from the possibility of separation.
Everything happens together. Everything.
So why keep denying it?
“I’m not looking to play games, love.” John reaches up and slides his hand to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your throat. “With my career, I need stability when I come home.” He hugs you closer. “I want you as my wife. Little versions of us running around.”
He closes the distance, lightly pressing his lips to yours. With the hold on your throat, John is a bit possessive with it, a little rough in the way he holds you. It’s such a contrast to how his lips caress your skin, tasting softly.
John releases your lips, pulling back just enough to stare into your eyes. “If you don’t want these things, you tell me now.” The husky drop in his voice sends a shiver straight to your core, makes you slick between the thighs.
Returning to your lips, John’s pressure increases, becomes slightly desperate. Slightly choking with his need to get his point across. You need to make a decision. You need to tell John what you want.
Because, you do want him. You crave him every second of every day. But this is a massive step, and John’s life is an unpredictable assortment of missing time and extended absences. The stability John desires is something you are more than willing to give, but you also don’t want to carry that burden all on your own.
“What happens when you’re not here, John?” you ask, once he’s ceased kissing you. “And even when you are, am I to take up the mental load?”
There are times when you will need to give more, or John might have to, but you don’t want to be left to do it all yourself. John’s job is difficult. It can be traumatizing and stressful, but you need to know if he’ll be present when he returns.
You don’t need to elaborate. You don’t need to explain. John already knows. He understands.
“Coming home to you in between is the happiest I’ve ever been. I just want you here. Everything else is negotiable.”
You smile against his mouth. “I thought you said you wanted little versions of us running around?”
John shrugs. “I do. If you don’t, that’s fine.” Both hands fall away from your body to firmly squeeze your ass. “But I will fuck you like we’re trying.”
“John!” you rear back and playfully smack his chest.
He nuzzles your neck and inhales, drawing you right back into him. “We can go try right now.” John lightly presses his pelvis against you and you smile as his desire creates a pressure between your bodies.
“We don’t have anything planned today,” you murmur.
John squeezes harder. “Exactly, love. We have the whole day.”
taglist:
@km-ffluv @glassgulls @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project
#captain john price x you#captain john price imagine#captain john price fanfiction#captain john price x reader#captain john price fanfic#captain john price x female reader#captain john price smut#captain john price fluff#captain price fic#captain price fanfiction#captain price x reader#captain price fanfic#captain price smut#captain price x you#captain price x f!reader#captain price x fem!reader#captain price x female reader#captain price cod#captain price fluff#john price x reader#john price cod#john price x you#john price smut#john price fanfic#john price fanfiction#john price fic#john price fluff#john price x fem!reader#john price x f!reader#john price x female reader
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Okay so I’m thinking Pedro x Actress!reader where another famous guy/actor says in an interview that he has a crush on us which makes Pedro a bit jealous and then we all end up at the same event - maybe Pedro gets abit angsty with him but he’s super loving and affectionate toward us…
warnings: jelousy
a/n: it goes without saying that i apologize for the wait babe, i really loved this request
It wasn't that he hated him, it was just that if anything were to happen to him he wouldn't be the one to cry, that's all...
and maybe he'd thought about punching that smug look off his face one... or twice... or every time the thought of him came up.
But it still wasn't hate
Hate is a strong word, and Pedro wasn't not one to throw it around easily, he was all for peace and love and everything but this guy... this guy was really pushing the limits
And what the actual fuck was he even doing here tonight?
"You're staring"
Your soft, amused voice pulled him out of his own thoughts, his eyes sliding to you
"I just don't get why he's here"
You stifled a laugh as you answered "The same reason why we are baby"
"he's not even nominated" he grumbled,
"neither am I" You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling his soft scruff graze your palm "It's not a big deal babe, he probably said my name just because it was the first one that popped into his mind" you shook your head "I bet it's not even true"
Yeah right
He would have believed that if you were anybody else, but you... fuck- it didn't take him even a second to fall in love and you expected him to believe that that guy didn't have a crush on you? He would have sooner begun believing that Mark Zuckerberg was one of those lizard guys.
You were everything anyone could have ever dreamed of, you were funny, so incredibly smart it made him feel like a fifth grader in comparison, and god you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen
he knew what you did to men, he knew what you did to men because that's exactly what you did to him,
and he didn't even mind that much, he'd never been the jealous type, but the problem with Shawn wasn't that he liked you (because he clearly did), but it was that he had the audacity, the smugness to fucking say it out loud, to admit it in front of a camera for anyone to see, like the woman he was talking about didn't have a husband, like he wasn't her fucking husband.
"I saw him look at you before"
This time, you did let out a little snort
"what, how dares he?" you mocked him, laughing again as his face remained completely unamused "It's your big night babe, don't let this silly little thing ruin it, please"
But just then, just when he was finally starting to let go a little, the focus of all of his loathing appeared beside you
"I'm sorry to interrupt-"
Then fucking don't
"I just wanted to introduce myself"
Shawn's eyes were only on you, as if he didn't even exist, as if your hands hadn't been on his cheeks but a moment prior
"I'm Shawn," he said, offering his hand to you "I'm... well, I'm a really big fan" he ended with a soft laugh, smiling in that charming way that surely made women all woozy
"Hi Shawn, it's a pleasure to meet you-"
As you shook his hand, Pedro was closing his into fists
This fucking guy-
"Hi pal"
Pedro's voice didn't sound even a little bit not completely pissed off
"I'm Pedro," he said "her husband"
The flicker of amusement that sparked behind his eyes made Pedro seriously ponder whether or not a little punch was that bad of an idea
"Oh, I didn't know you were married"
Andrew's eyes were back to you, and god it was taking all of Pedro not to grab him and throw him to the other side of the room
Just the fact that he was looking your way seemed too much,
How dare he look at you, at his beautiful wife, at the love of his life?
It felt wrong, it was wrong, and it was making him furious
"I'm sure you didn't" Pedro grunted, taking a slow step closer to him "Shawn right?" he asked, even though he knew much too well who he was "What exactly are you doing here?" Pedro's eyes narrowed, his head tilting "I didn't notice your name in any of the nominations"
"baby" your soft warning was met with a soft smile from him, one that faded into a stoic/murderous gaze as soon as your husband's eyes were back on the man before him
"I'm just asking a question sweetheart, that's all"
Shawn seemed to accept Pedro's challenge in the blink of an eye
"I'm here with a friend, he's the one that got the nom"
Pedro nodded slowly, "ah. Right," he said, his hand going to your back and drawing gentle circles on it
He didn't miss the way Shawn followed the movement
"And why exactly are you talking to my wife Shawn?"
Now that, that seemed to take him aback a little, but he recovered quickly
"What?" he laughed "is no one allowed to talk to your wife without your permission or something?"
"Oh absolutely not, my wife can talk to whomever she wishes," Pedro spoke "I'm just not very fond of her talking to men that have openly admitted to liking her" he shrugged as if his eyes and voice weren't yelling murder
You, in the meantime, were busy looking for the fastest way out of this place
"You've seen the video," Shawn said more like a statement
"I sure did" Your husband nodded "I especially liked the part where you described her as your "dream woman""
Shawn sighed loudly, shaking his head
"listen, man-"
"No, you listen, man" Pedro interrupted him "How 'bout you get the fuck away from me and my wife, mh?" he said more like a threat "How bout that?"
Shawn let out a loud breath before responding
"whatever man" he sighed, his eyes moving to you "It was nice to meet you y/n, maybe we can meet another time..." he glanced to the man on your right "when the guard dog isn't around"
"yeah" Pedro scoffed "Go fuck yourself, buddy"
You both stared at his back as he walked away, but after no more than two seconds, you couldn't help but let your lips pull into the smile you'd been holding this whole time
"that was a bit harsh"
Pedro only grinned as he brought you flash against him with his hands on your waist
"Like you haven't done worse" he smirked
Yeah... while Pedro wasn't usually jealous, you were... let's just say you were not exactly on the same wavelength
"you looked ready to kill him" you chuckled, wrapping your arms behind his neck
"mh" he hummed, ghosting your mouth "Who says I wasn't" he teased, his lips crashing with yours in a long, deep kiss that Pedro absolutely didn't wish for Shawn to be witnessing
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x f!reader#pedro pascal blurb#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal x fem reader#pedro pascal one shot#pedro pascal x fem!reader#Pedro Pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x female reader#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal imagine#dad!pedro pascal#the last of us#joel miller#tlou#the mandalorian#javier peña#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#fluff#daddy pascal#pedrohub#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#pedrito#pedro pascal x gn reader
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It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader
[Chapter 23] || [Chapter 25]
Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader
Words: 1.8K~
Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?
a/n: just cute little moments w/ a lot of banter bc ofc
Chapter 24: Pokémon?
“So, yeah, now, even their Captain wants to…” You trail off awkwardly as you press your lips together, looking at the dropped jaws on the other side of the brunch table from you.
“Hun, I don’t- We might-” Leah starts as she stares at you, blinking away the surprise as she holds the utensils.
“Right?” Mia retorts as she stares at you. “The candle I lit for you worked too well, I reckon…”
“No, really, we girlbossed a bit too close to the sun… Manifested this too hard.” Leah adds, making Mia agree eagerly.
Your face warms up and you lower your head, taking a sip of your tea. You definitely shouldn’t be having this talk about your love and sex life inside this French bistro… but alas.
“Four? I mean… Four fwb would be understandable, you know?” Mia adds and Leah nods.
“But four boyfriends?” Leah adds. “And they’re all friends, and work together?”
“They’re not my boyfriends!” You retort as you say sharply, your face burning up a bit.
“Oh yeah? Are you seeing anyone else?” Leah retorts, ever the more logical of the three of you.
“No, but like, when would I have the time for that?” You retort and that earns chuckles from all three of you.
“Good point.” Leah concedes as she sips her own warm cappuccino.
“Regardless, they literally BEAT-” Mia lowers her voice when she realize she’s being too loud. “they beat Ethan’s arse for you.” She whisper shouts. “Fwbs don’t do that, boyfriends do!”
“Right!” Leah agrees and gestures at them. “They’re absolutely your boyfriends.”
“I hate you both.” You retort and shake your head, amused, which causes all three of you to break into giggles.
“So, which one of them is, you know-” Mia asks in a mischievous tone just as you just ate a bit of omelette, causing your eyes to widen as you stare at her.
“I feel like I’m being mocked.” You quip.
Once again the two of them erupt with laughs. “I’m sorry, hun, but we’ve gotta live vicariously through you!” Leah says, Mia nodding in agreement.
“Nooo, you’re taking the piss out of me!” You reply with a chuckle.
“C’moooooon! Gossip with us! We barely see you nowadays!” Mia begs as she puts her hands together in pleading.
“Oh bloody hell…” You retort. “I don’t know-”
“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease!” Mia begs.
“Alright! Gosh, I was going to say ‘I don’t know because I haven’t been with all of them yet’!” You reply.
“You haven’t?!” The girls say with a loud gasp that attracts loads of side-eye from the other patrons. You’re probably going to get kicked out soon.
“Will you shush?” You scold them, eyes widened and lips pressed together. “No, I haven’t.”
“You’ve got to!” Mia tells you.
“We’ll get there, we’re taking it slow.�� You reply.
“Babes, they beat up your ex-” Leah tells you. “They’ve all slept over at some point, they pick you up from work every day, as long as they’re in town-” She continues to list, counting with her fingers.
“Right, you’re skipping through all the loops. There’s no ‘taking it slow’!” Mia adds. “Hop on those cocks, bloody hell!”
“MIA!” You scold her with a dropped jaw.
“Oh, don’t play coy now! You’ve got four boyfriends!” Leah retorts and narrows her eyes at you, sticking her tongue out now.
“Right, collecting them like trading cards.” Mia adds, causing the three of you to laugh again.
“They’re like Pokémon, you’ve just Gotta Catch’Em All!” Leah adds, causing you to cover your mouth to hide a snort of a laugh.
“Fuck you both, honestly!” You quip playfully. You missed them, missed the laughs they’ve provided you.
“No, but really now.” Leah says once you’ve all calmed down. “They make you really happy, we can see it.” She looks at you with a warm smile on her lips.
“They do.” You confirm with a sheepish nod and smile.
“I really hopes it works out between you and them.” Mia adds. “It’s so nice to see you smile this much!” Her tone is sincere and sweet.
“Thank you…” You say softly. “I hope so too.” You tell them.
“It better, or I’ll go after them with my pipe!” Mia warns, referencing an inside joke between the three of you, a piece of rusty pipe a repairman left behind at her flat after fixing her bathroom sink, which she now uses as her ‘signature weapon’.
“Right, you’re gonna pipe four soldiers?” You joke a bit, sarcastically.
“Oh no, hun, they’re the ones piping you!” Mia adds and you all lose it laughing again.
“So when are we going to meet them?” Leah teases.
-
You shouldn’t have been surprised that Kyle would answer your texts so quick.
You also shouldn’t have been surprised that he brought Johnny in tow.
And yet you were.
You texted Kyle your location and in less than 20 minutes he was jogging up the pavement, Johnny hot on his heels. You could see them coming through the window.
“Bloody hell…” You mutter as you watch them turn to go through the front door of the café/bistro.
“What?” Leah asks and before you can say anything, they both turn to look at where you are, finding Kyle and Johnny strolling right in and in your direction, cute little smirks on their lips.
Your friends recognize them immediately, of course, you had shown plenty of pictures, especially when you had just matched them on Tinder… But seeing them in real life is always different.
Kyle’s pretty boy-ing as usual. White v-neck to show off his collar bones and defined chest, grey jeans, white Converse and a black denim jacket overtop of it. He has his cutest smile on, pretty lashes fluttering as he comes to stand by your side.
“Hi, lovie…” He greets you and leans down, kissing the top of your head, before turning to greet your friends. “Hey, I’m Kyle!” He says politely.
He barely has time to say anything else before Johnny, throws himself onto the free chair next to you, the last one at this table for four, his arms wrapping around your shoulders.
“Mo leannan, ye look so bonnie…” He says before gripping you around the jaw and stealing a direct, open-mouthed kiss from you. Your eyes widen the moment he does, causing you to carefully hold onto his beefy forearm, returning the kiss to the best of your (embarrassed) abilities.
Just as you’re pulling away, you can hear Kyle justifying the kiss to your flabbergasted friends. “Forgive ‘im, he was raised in a barn.”
“Haud Yer Wheesht! I was not!” Johnny retorts as he turns to look at your friends. “Hi, I’m Johnny.” He adds as a greeting, a lopsided smirk on his face, as he reaches forward to… shake hands with your friends.
Johnny smells strongly of deodorant. That Lynx body spray shite he always sprays on himself. It’s not bad, but it’s strong… You’re only lucky the leather jacket he’s wearing conceals it a bit.
It’s an old thing, maybe a couple of decades’ old, the leather starting to wear out over the shoulders, and he’s paired it with a light blue hoodie, dark jeans and black combat boots.
“Was too.” Kyle retorts, a bit childishly as he comes to stand by your side, his hands caressing your bare arms in the t-shirt you’re wearing. “You three been having fun?” He asks you and your friends. Ever mature and considerate, he is.
Your friends are still just staring. Sure, they knew you haven’t been lying to them as you told them about your relationship with these men but it’s one thing to hear about it, the other to see it.
“Yep, we had fun, Gaz…” You say softly, catching the way Johnny’s just serving himself to the dessert you haven’t yet touched on your plate.
“You really were raised in a barn.” You tell him. “Don’t even ask permission to eat my food?” You scold him, which causes him to smirk again.
“Either I stuff my mouth with food or with you. And I’m still civilised enough to know the last one is frowned upon to do in public.” Johnny retorts, then his smile grows into an impish grin. “Unless you’re into some… kinky things.” He winks.
That causes you to sputter and look away, grumbling under your breath as his ever-present tendency to make dirty jokes.
“I like ‘im!” Mia announces suddenly as she stares at Johnny.
“I knew you would. You two think the same.” You tell her and shake your head. “Which is why I only asked Kyle to come.” You add and stare at Kyle with a cocked brow, as if questioning why he didn’t come along.
“He was on his knees begging to come. What was I supposed to do? Leave ‘im behind?” Kyle quips, a playful smirk on his lips.
“Was not!!!!” Johnny retorts. “I just figured out he was coming to see you and joined in!” He adds. “Plus, my feelings are hurt you didn’t want me to come!” He tells you with a fake pout.
“Oh, piss off, it’s not that I didn’t want you to come!” You say simply. “It’s just that you’re…”
“A dickhead.” Kyle finishes for you.
“NO!” You scold Kyle. “I was going to say ‘Intense’.”
“Intense? That feels like a euphemism for something bad, mo leannan!” The Scot tells you as he pops a macaron into his mouth.
“That’s ‘cause it is.” Kyle replies for you.
“It’s not- Kyle!”
“And your friends already like me, don’t ye?” Johnny turns his attention to the girls.
“Yes, we do!” Mia replies and nods.
Leah still hasn’t shaken out of her stupor. “My God, there’s two of them.” She says as she looks back and forth between Mia and Johnny.
“I know… I know…” You soothe her in a playfully annoyed tone.
“So, Johnny, is it?” Mia quips and leans forward to whisper conspirationally. “Give it to us straight. How does it work?” She points vaguely at you and him and Kyle.
“Mia!” You scold her this time. “I thought we were past those topics?”
“‘Those’ topics?” Kyle asks as he lowers himself near you to listen in better. “And what topics would those be?” He adds, as if he’s not perfectly aware they mean you guys’ sex life.
“Oh my God, Kyle, not you too!” You whine as you look at him.
“Nae, it’s fine that they’re curious!” Johnny quips on the other side. “I’ll gladly tell ye all about it!”
“Johnny!” You scold him again, sounding ever the more exasperated.
“Oh, you wouldn’t have anythin’ to tell either way, you dickhead.” Kyle retorts. “I’m the only one that has all the tea to share.”
“KYLE!” You scold him too, your head going back and forth between the two men flanking you.
The banter continues, your friends seemingly absolutely engrossed in the two sergeants, the way they’re making you sweat, and almost begging for the side of the gossip you had swiftly evaded earlier in the brunch.
“God help me survive this-” You murmur to yourself, feeling crescently embarrassed as everyone on the table takes the piss out of you. “I hate you all… I should’ve just invited Simon…”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):
@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark
@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket
#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic#cod modern warfare#cod fanfic#captain john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#text story#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod smut#141 x reader
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SnakeBite*
Summary: The third part to 404*
The one where Harry is good for more than a good time.
But he's still good at that, too.
Word Count: 5.2k
*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*
“Oh, come on…please. Please, don’t do this. Not right now. Not today…please.”
With a deep breath, you stick the key back into the ignition and try again. Waiting anxiously for the sound of the engine roaring to life. A sound you desperately need to hear more than anything.
Instead, all that follows is that familiar clunking of something heavy before there’s a rather shrill buzzing you can’t quite place.
Fuck.
Exasperated and woefully defeated, you take the key back out, groan, and drop your forehead onto the steering wheel. “This is not happening.”
Truth be told, you should have seen this coming. This isn’t the first time your poor car has made this unsettling noise, and perhaps it’s your fault for ignoring it for so long. You hadn’t meant to; you just didn’t realize it was this bad. Or that your car was this old.
Now, you’re trapped in the Juno Incorporated parking lot on a Friday afternoon with no way of getting you or your car home.
“The fuck is wrong with you?”
You don’t even bother to lift your head as Harry’s voice carries in through the window. “Nothing. Go away.”
You hear the sound of his boots scraping across the concrete before they stop, and you feel a large shadow fall over your side of the vehicle. “Can I assume that god awful noise came from this hunk of shit you call a car?”
Leaning back, you huff as you look over. “I’m sorry, do you want something?”
Harry smirks, arms crossing over his chest as he juts his chin toward you. “Pop the hood, let me see.”
“Yeah…no.”
“Come on,” he pushes, a few curls dancing across his forehead from a soft gust of wind. You realize he looks different outside of the lab. Normal, almost. It’s unsettling. “You wanna leave, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but knowing you, you’d probably cut my breaks.”
“If I were gonna take you out, I would have done it by now.”
“Oh. Wow. You’re really instilling me with a lot of confidence, thanks.”
He steps back and motions toward the front of your car. “Fucking relax, Tinkerbell, and just pop the goddamn hood.”
Regretfully, you do as instructed before leaning out the open window to watch him walk toward your engine. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”
“I know enough,” he replies, using the back of his hand to push on his glasses before bending down.
“That…is not helpful.”
“Well, I’m your only shot. Everyone else is gone.”
“I can call a repair guy.”
He shakes his head once. “Won’t get here in time. It’s rush hour on a Friday. You’ll be here for hours if they even show at all. And chances are, they won’t be able to schedule you in till next week. So, unless you’re planning to sleep here, in your car, can you please shut the fuck up, and let me focus?”
You feel your expression morph into a scowl as you unclick your seatbelt and step out. “I’d rather sleep in my car than trust you to fix my engine.”
You notice his eyes roll, but he’s amused. “Well, I can’t fix it. Not here. I think it’s your spark plugs. They tend to wear out faster in older cars. You’ll probably have to get them replaced.”
Scurrying to stand beside him, you glance over your engine and the internal workings of the car with a heavy sigh.
“You’re kidding,” you mumble beneath another strained groan. “And let me guess, it’s gonna be expensive.”
“Probably,” he agrees, glancing over. “But it’s not like you can’t afford it.”
Your eyes narrow. “I know I can afford it, I just don’t like dropping thousands of dollars on something so dumb.”
“Spark plugs aren’t dumb,” he retorts while reaching for your hood to slam it shut. “You need them to fucking drive.”
“Yeah, but having to pay for a rental car, manual labor, and a tow truck is dumb,” you point out. “And this is the last thing I need right now.”
His eyebrow lifts but he doesn’t ask for elaboration. Instead, he begins to stride across the lot toward a dark, black Harley, leaving you and your crisis behind.
In turn, you reach for your cellphone to look up local tow trucks and mechanics that might be able to help you out.
To your dismay, most shops are already closed for the weekend, except for one. And after a very lengthy and frustrated discussion, you learn that they won’t be able to come by until much later tonight. Which means that all your hopes of having a nice, relaxing evening are for naught.
Once again defeated, you slump back against the side of your car and drop your head. “Well…great.”
Harry’s smirk returns as he glances over and straddles his bike. “What?”
“I’m stuck here until midnight,” you mumble, running a palm down the side of your cheek. “You were right, everyone is booked.”
“Shit,” is about all he offers while pulling his helmet over his head. “That sucks.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Welcome.” He revs the engine, and just like that, the bike roars to life. The loud and somewhat startling sound echoing across the parking lot as you flinch.. “So, what’s the plan, Princess? You gonna call an Uber and come back later?”
“I can’t,” you shout over the noise. “I have to be here in case they come early, or they’ll leave.”
Through the open visor, you see him frown. “Ah.”
“Yeah.”
He studies you for a moment more, and you feel your skin grow warm under such a scrutinous gaze. Like he’s looking for something written between the lines of your face. “Well…make sure you lock your doors.”
“No shit.”
He smiles again before flipping the visor shut and steadying the bike with his leg. You stand back, ready to watch him speed out of the lot and onto the street, but to your surprise…he simply sits there.
In fact, a good sixty seconds pass before he suddenly slips the helmet off his head, sighs, and thrusts it toward you. “Get on.”
You blink. “What?”
“Get on the fucking bike, Tink,” he repeats. “I know a bar we can hang out in till they get here.”
“I…I just told you, I can’t leave—”
“You can see the parking lot from inside,” he interrupts. “If they show, we can just run back over.”
You step closer, drawn to his proposition, although still wildly confused. “Uh…okay. Why, though? I’m fine to just wait here.”
He looks at you, the grassy green behind his glasses somehow softer in this natural lighting. “S’not safe,” he says simply, shrugging one shoulder up. “Be better to wait somewhere public, and I don’t really want your death on my conscience.”
And you aren’t exactly sure what to say. Because you think this may be the nicest thing he’s ever done for you – even if it’s still a little odd – and you don’t want to spook him by doing the wrong thing.
But as you debate a response, he shakes the helmet at you again, rather aggressively. “Tink, get on the goddamn bike, please. I’m wasting gas here.”
With a huff, you snatch it from his hand and join him on the Harley. The helmet slips on rather easily, and once you’re sure it’s snug and secure, your eyes trail down his back, unsure of how to proceed.
You don’t exactly want to…hold him. Or touch him or straddle him. At least, not outside of the way you do in secret. In broad daylight. Where people could see.
In fact, you already feel as though you’re grinding against his ass from how small this goddamn seat is. Almost too close for comfort as you catch a subtle trace of his cologne and feel the warmth from his body.
But motorcycles don’t exactly come with seatbelts, and if he were to take a sharp corner, you might end up pancaked on the cement.
“Tinkerbell,” you suddenly hear him call over his shoulder, voice raised to carry over the growl of the engine. “Just fucking grab me, it’s fine.”
You glare at his curls, despite knowing he can’t see you. “I’m good.”
He snorts again before he’s suddenly reaching back, grabbing onto your wrists, and hoisting your arms around his middle.
You’re tugged forward, your chest pressing to his spine rather forcefully as he glances back.
“Pussy,” he murmurs, releasing the clutch until the bike jolts forward and takes off through the parking lot.
With a rather shrill squeal, you tighten your hold on his broad frame, and bury yourself between his shoulder blades. The sensation is exhilarating and frightening all in the same moment. The rush of wind, adrenaline, and the way he leans around the corner before taking off down the street.
You think you feel his chest vibrate with laughter, perhaps from the way your nails are scraping down his shirt. And despite your increasing terror, you find that you feel oddly…safe with him at the handles.
Not even two minutes later, he’s pulling into another parking spot on the other side of the street, right in front of the aforementioned bar. It’s a bar you recognize, one that a few of your other coworkers often frequent from time to time.
In fact, this is the exact same bar you and Harry first hooked up in all those months ago.
The memory makes you smile.
“What?” Harry asks as swings his leg over the side and stands up. “Why are you grinning like that?”
You quickly wipe the smirk from your face while wrestling the helmet off to hand back. “Like what? I’m just smiling, calm down.”
“I don’t like when you smile. It freaks me out.”
“You’re really rude, you know that?”
“What? I’m just being honest. You have a lot of teeth. It’s weird.”
You glower at him, swatting his chest as you brush by. “Bite me, Harold.”
“With what? Your teeth?”
You feign a snubbed gasp – to which he chuckles – before striding into the bar, leaving him to follow behind.
The large room is loud and crowded with people, the smell of alcohol and bad decisions clinging to the air. You make a beeline for the counter, exhausted and overworked and already annoyed by Harry’s future comments before he can even make them.
Like—
“Really? An appletini?”
With a deep breath, you look over while the bartender turns around to begin prepping your drink. “Yes, really. I like apples. And it’s delicious. And the color is fun.”
He rests an arm on the edge of the marble bar and leans in. “How incredibly boring of you.”
Once again, your expression falls flat. “Are you gonna be this fucking annoying the whole time? Because I’d rather wait by my car and get murdered.”
“I make no promises.”
“Clearly. And let me guess, you’re gonna order something cool and manly like a scotch on the rocks.”
Harry’s eyebrow quirks up before he smugly turns toward the bartender and calls, “I’ll have a SnakeBite.”
You can actually feel your eyes roll all the way into the back of your head. “God, you’re fucking pretentious.”
“Thank you,” he says with a smile, and you grit your teeth. “Will you relax? I haven’t even had a drink yet and you’re killing my buzz.”
“I’m not killing anything, I just can’t stand you.”
“No? Ouch. I thought we were friends.”
The sarcasm is evident, but you huff, nevertheless. “For the love of god, shut up.”
“What?” He nods his chin at you. “S’just a drink, don’t be so sensitive.”
“I’m sensitive because you’re annoying.”
“No, you’re sensitive because you’re wound up,” he retorts, eyeing you closely. It makes your skin crawl. “When’s the last time you got off, Tink?”
The inquiry makes you step back, almost as though trying to avoid his judgment. “None of your business.”
“So…couple weeks ago? In the closet, with me?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “That’s a long fucking time, Princess. No wonder you’re so uptight.”
Your mouth drops open, ready to scoff your resentment and perhaps a quippy remark before he suddenly steps forward and lowers his voice.
“Bet it’s achy, huh?” he coos, and the slight air condescension and sympathy makes your head spin. “Bet you hump your little pillow every night trying to get it done, yeah? But it never works, does it?”
Stunned and left without much remark, your lashes flutter.
He moves closer. “See, if we were friends…I’d offer to take you into the bathroom and help you out. But since you think you can do better…go ahead.”
He leans back while you gape at him. “I’m sorry…go ahead and do what?”
“Find someone,” he answers, glancing around the packed bar. “Take ‘em into the bathroom and let them bend you over the sink.”
“You can’t be serious—”
“Why not?” His eyebrow raises. “That’s the whole reason people come to bars. To get drunk and fuck.”
“Well…that’s not why I’m here.”
“It could be.”
“Harry…no—”
“Why? Seriously, why not? You need it.”
“I don’t…you’re so fucking rude, I don’t need to get off—”
“Coming is good for your health. And for your unfavorable attitude—”
“Oh, you are so fucking—”
“Rude? Annoying? Doesn’t make me any less right.”
You clamp your mouth shut and step closer, letting your gaze travel the expanse of his face. “Come on, Harry,” you murmur softly – salaciously – as his breath seems to catch. “Do you really think…you could watch me with some other guy?”
His expression twists, his mouth already forming around something else snappy and crude.
But it seems to get stuck on his tongue when you suddenly reach out and trail your fingers down his chest. Moving in until there’s only a single breath between you.
“Do you really think…you could watch me touch them?” you whisper, glancing down to your hand as it grazes over his pec. “Or know that they had me dripping down their cock…the way I always drip for you?”
He wants to fight you. Wants to snort and look away.
But he doesn’t. He can’t. He’s mesmerized by the power you so easily stole from him. Undone by the sound of your voice taunting him with an idea he can’t seem to stomach.
“Wanna know I’m whimpering their name the way I always whimper yours?” you continue, smoothing your other palm up the back of his neck. Squeezing just hard enough to make him straighten up. “Wanna see the marks on my throat from where they held me—”
“Easy,” he warns lowly, reaching up to snatch your wrist. But he doesn’t move you. “Not here—”
“Why?” You push up onto your tiptoes and let your lips ghost over his. “Who’s gonna see, hm? Who’s gonna care?”
His lashes flutter, eyes traveling down to your mouth. “Are you this desperate for it, Princess? Wanna fuck me right here in the middle of the bar? Make them watch?”
You smile, head tilting until the tip of your nose dances across his cheek. “Maybe,” you nearly purr. “Bet you like to be watched. You always like watching me.”
And maybe he knows you’re merely playing a game. Teasing him just to throw him off track and test his patience.
But he plays along, eager to see where it might lead. “Can’t help it,” he replies calmly, smirking himself. “Y’just always look so pretty when you’re three fingers deep in your cunt.”
“Yeah?” Your nails scratch at the soft curls near the nape of his neck. “Funny how I can make myself squirt better than you can.”
He exhales a rather sadistic chuckle while his arm reaches to loop around your waist, pulling your chest flush with his. “I wasn’t trying to make you squirt.”
“No?”
His head shakes once. “No. Trust me, Tink. If I wanted to…I would.”
“Then maybe you should.”
His lips part just enough to tease you with a taste. “Maybe I will.”
“Yeah? Right here? In front of everybody?”
Another grin. “I could. Be so fucking easy, too. Bend you over the bar, pull your soaked little panties down…spread you open so they can see how much of a dirty little cumslut you are.”
And perhaps this started as a ruse, but just the thought and the tantalizing way he speaks breeds a new inspiration.
“Cause you are, aren’t you?” he asks quietly, large hand pressing hard against your spine. “My dirty, fucking Princess? Get all wet and weepy from just a couple words?”
You swallow a whimper trying desperately to come free.
“Should I check?” he whispers, now subtly moving you over until your back meets the counter. “Hm? See if you’re as wound up as I think you are?”
You rifle through your list of responses but find that you have none to offer as his fingers delicately begin to trace the edge of your jeans. Provoking you further.
You reckon you should probably stop him. Point out what an idiotic idea this is and remind him that he’s still very much in public, surrounded by people.
But his body blocks you from most of the crowd, and nobody else is close enough to notice. And you suppose that even if they did look over, they wouldn’t exactly be able to see or understand.
His eyes flick to yours, looking for hesitation. But when he finds none, the corner of his mouth twitches up into a pleased smile.
“Dirty Princess,” he teases, sliding his hand into your pants as subtly as he can while you quickly glance around for prying eyes. “That’s right, Tink. Look at them.”
The feel of his cold fingers against your warm skin is like ecstasy, sending a rush of adrenaline straight down to your toes.
You gasp quietly to mask a whine, vision going hazy as you watch him study you.
“Oh, sweetie,” he tsks, smoothing his touch through your folds. Spreading and stroking as you reel. “Poor fucking thing. Did’ya get yourself all wet for me?”
“No,” you manage to reply, heart hammering against your rib cage when he smirks. “I was watching TikTok’s of Andrew Garfield earlier. This is for him.”
“Ah,” he hums, but he’s wildly amused, hand still cupping you gently before he swiftly pulls out and leaves you to wilt. “Well, in that case…”
He steps away, fingers tucked between his lips as he pretends to turn around.
However, before he can get far, you manage to capture a fistful of his shirt and yank him back to you.
And you kiss him. Without reluctance or fear. You kiss him, and you sigh against his mouth, and swallow his surprised but greedy moan.
His hands are on your hips, squeezing and pulling, desperate to tug you further into his frame.
You go willingly, becoming pliable in his hands. A few people cheer from beside you, raising their glasses and whistling like drunken animals.
But it makes you both smile, suddenly unencumbered by the ideas of what people might think or who might see.
And it’s strange to feel so at peace in his arms. Unnatural almost to find relief in his lips or safety in his presence. Because this is still the same Harry that would let you drown before he jumped in after you. That would rather tell you off than tell you he likes you – even as an acquaintance.
You’re not enemies, per se. You imagine you’re both too old for such childish rivalries. But he’s cruel and rude and blunt. His ego rivals the size of the moon, and his lack of care and inhibitions is proof that he could never be who you’d need him to be.
But that’s okay, you realize. You find serenity in the sadistic, strange behavior. Because it means you don’t have to commit to giving him anything more than what he deserves.
His tongue leaves a quick lick to yours before he pulls back and studies you from behind the dark frames of his glasses. “I need to fuck you.”
And you almost laugh at the frank way he speaks. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” His palm slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing it one, twice, three times. “Meet me in the bathroom.”
“Ew, no. I’m not fucking you in a crusty ass bathroom in a sketchy bar,” you retaliate with a scrunch of your nose. “Pick somewhere else.”
“There isn’t anywhere else,” he huffs. “Unless you really do want me to fuck right here in front of everybody.”
“That’s not funny.”
“M’not trying to be funny. I’m trying to fuck you.”
“Well…try harder.”
His eyes narrow. “Fine, you wanna fuck me on my bike?”
You blink. “Okay, that’s really not funny.”
“What?” He’s grinning again, and you hate the way his dimples pop out. Hate how charming they make him look. “Come on, I ride the bike, you ride me.”
You snort as you turn around to take a sip of your drink. “I’d rather get herpes.”
“Wow. Classy. Real fucking classy—”
“Admit it, you’ve had it before—”
“Oh, fuck you—”
“Well, you can’t. Remember?”
He scoffs. “Then where the fuck do you want to go?”
“I don’t know. Literally anywhere else?”
“Well, I’m not taking you back to mine.”
“No? You don’t want me to see the bridge you live under?”
“Troll jokes. Funny.”
“Thank you, I thought so. It’s very fitting.”
His expression falls flat before he sighs and steps closer again. “Meet me in the fucking bathroom,” he repeats quietly, “and let me fuck you. Let me make it better.”
You want to remind him – again – that a dirty bathroom in a crowded bar isn’t exactly the best place. You’d never get a moment of privacy, and the position would most likely be wildly uncomfortable.
But suddenly, none of your reasons seem to matter. Because it hurts to be away from him. Actually aches between your thighs, forcing you to swallow thickly.
So, instead of responding with an actual answer, you simply take his hand, and drag him through the crowd.
You catch his smug smile – and resist the urge to slap the glasses off his face – before yanking him into the hall and toward the bathroom.
You both stumble through the door, already back on each other’s lips. Kissing, and groping, and groaning as you work to get the lock flipped.
You pause for only a moment to make sure the single stall restroom is in fact empty while Harry uses this as encouragement to begin nipping down the side of your neck.
Your nails scratch down his scalp and he moans against the heat of your skin, exhaling his relief and lust all in the same breath.
His touch is firm – pointed and almost painful – as he pushes you back toward the wall. You gasp when you meet the cold, hard cement, lashes fluttering from the force and the sound of his belt coming undone.
He nods his chin at you, entertained by your fascination. “Come on, Princess. You’ve seen my cock before.”
“Just shut up and fuck me,” you murmur, swallowing thickly when he pulls himself out. “Before I change my mind and find somebody else."
He scoffs with a smile. “I’d like to see you try.”
He gives himself a few pumps, growing harder in his palm before he lets go and moves his attention to your jeans. He’s got them down your legs and pooled around your ankles in under thirty seconds flat, your panties soon following suit.
But he teases you for just a moment. Because of course he does, the sadistic fucker. Needing to hear you beg for him before he actually gives you what you both want.
“Harry,” you huff, glancing down as he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “We don’t have time, and the floor is dirty. Just do it.”
“Just do it? How romantic,” he snorts before obliging and straightening back up. “Thought girls liked foreplay.”
“We do, but not in gross, dirty bathrooms.”
“Fine. Next time.”
And for some reason, the casual way he refers to the future makes your head spin. You always assume the two of you will continue from time to time. But hearing him promise to take care of you again…
It’s almost…nice?
Pushing the thought aside, you begin to turn around, hands pressing into the wall to brace yourself in preparation for what comes next.
But just as you’re getting comfortable, he suddenly grabs onto your hips, and spins you forward once again.
“No,” he murmurs softly, pretty green eyes trailing down your face. “No, I wanna see you this time.”
“Oh,” you whisper, skin growing hot as he steps between your legs. “Okay…?”
He grins lightly before reaching up to trail his thumb along your bottom lip. “I like watching you get all sappy when I fuck you. The way you grin when it feels good.”
Suddenly, your pulse starts to stagger. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I like your smile.”
You suck in quiet breath. “I thought it creeped you out. That I had too many teeth.”
He chuckles to himself before taking hold of his cock and bringing it closer, trailing it between your legs. “You do. But that’s what makes you so beautiful.”
You think he must be out of his mind. Lost on the idea of sex and pleasure and SnakeBite’s. Tipsy and not all there. Because the Harry you know would never say something like that to you.
But you suppose you don’t really know Harry at all.
With that final thought, he hoists your leg over his hip, and begins to push in. It’s slow at first. You’re tense from the surroundings, from the loud sounds of the bar just on the other side of the wall, and from his admission.
But he loves it, cursing through gritted teeth before surging forward to kiss you. “Tink, you gotta fucking relax. Y’know I can’t do it if you don’t let me in.”
“Try…trying,” you pant, head falling back against the wall with a thud. “Sorry. Just go.”
He frowns, eyes rolling as his glasses begin to slip down the bridge of his nose. “M’not gonna go if you’re not stretched, Princess. I’m not trying to hurt you—”
“I don’t care,” you argue with a soft whine. “Really, I don’t care. Just go. Make it hurt.”
He releases your leg to slip his fingers just below your jaw, forcing your eyes on him. “Stop. M’not gonna do that, just relax.”
“I’m trying—”
“Try harder,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your mouth. “Come on, sweetie. Know you can do it. Know you always take me so well, don’t you?”
You nod fervently. “Yes…yeah, yes—”
“Then take me,” he whispers, his free fingers finding your clit. He rubs, and presses, and pinches until he feels you begin to unwind. “There you go…there she is, that’s my girl. S’better, isn’t it? Yeah? Gonna let me in now?”
You can’t exactly speak, already lost in the pleasure and the fullness his thick cock provides as it pushes past your walls and settles nearly in your belly.
The sound you make is depraved and eager, and it makes him smile. “That good, huh? So fucking cute how cockdrunk you get.”
“Shut…up,” you huff before reaching for his hair. “Faster.”
“Faster,” he repeats to himself, hips pulling back just to snap forward. “Always want it fast, don’t you? Never want me to take my time.”
“Cause I don’t want your dick in me longer than it needs to be,” you retort, but you both know that’s not true. “Fucking hurry—”
With a sharp and sudden thrust, he changes the pace. Obeying your command for fast and hard as your bodies shake with pleasure and force.
And you imagine it should feel quite strange to be so enamored by one man – one cock. But here you are, panting, and gasping, and whimpering as he fucks you against this bathroom wall. Ignoring the pounding of the fists against the door from people wanting to be let in.
He kisses you. Kisses all of you. Your lips, your cheek, your chin, your nose, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Tugs on your skin with his teeth before flattening his tongue against the tortured flesh.
His hand dances underneath your shirt. Palm smoothing up your stomach and over the cup of your bra. Slipping just far enough inside to knead you in his grasp. Make you whimper and push closer.
And he’s so warm. All of him is warm and soft and strong. He smells like mahogany and sex, and he feels like ecstasy.
You love his hands. The veins in his arms, the bulge of his muscles. The tan of his skin and the way he holds you.
He might be infuriating, but my god is he fun to look at.
“Fucking shit,” he snaps, readjusting his angle to make sure he’s fucking into you just right. “So fucking good, Tink. You’re shaking, sweetie. You close already?”
You can’t respond with words, instead clenching around him in an effort to prove his point.
He smirks, quickly reaching up to push his glasses back into place. “Good. Want you to come all over my cock, baby. Want you to soak me. Can y’do that for me, Princess? Can you soak my cock?”
You think you know what he means, but truth be told, you aren’t sure if you can. You’ve only done it twice before – by your own hand, not his – and you wonder if you’d even be able to like this.
But the question is answered for you when he moves just enough to find that sweet, spongy spot that unravels you faster than lightning.
He hits it over and over and over – perhaps without even realizing – and when you suddenly begin to cry out his name…he understands.
He watches as it happens, aiding in your pleasure by spitting on his fingers and bringing them down to your clit.
The ministrations are ruthless and beautiful, and it almost distracts you from the gushing between your legs, and the way you soak his thighs.
“Shit,” you think you hear him groan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. “So fucking good, Tink. Yeah, just like that. That’s good, baby, keep going. Give me all of it. Fucking all of it, sweetie, yeah.”
And just before you can go sliding down the wall out of pure exhaustion…he follows. Pressing his chest into yours to keep you upright as he spills inside your pussy, creating a bigger mess than before.
Everything is wet and sticky and warm. He’s breathing into your neck, holding onto your body so tight, you imagine you’ll see memories of him tomorrow.
And you stay, just for a moment. Learning how to take in air again and waiting for the feeling to return to your muscles.
“You okay?” he finally asks, exhaling the question into the sweaty skin of your throat. “Didn’t break you, did I?”
Your smile is lazy as you shake your head. “It would take a lot more than you to break me.”
And he laughs. In the kind of way that makes you clench around him again.
Which only makes him laugh harder.
“I fucking hope so.”
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~ Jealous*
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New Romantics II Grace Clinton x Bronze!Reader
masterlist I word count: 2534
a/n: hi, this is inspired by the cute request here. Anyone interested in a part 2 ?
You stood at the window of your London flat, taking in the view over the city. It was a surprisingly nice day but the restless feeling in your chest kept you from enjoying it. Your girlfriend watched you from the sofa on the other side of the room.
Unsurprisingly, as she had been called up for Englands Senior squad before. Something you have also wanted for a long time. And you were hoping that today would be the day your wish would come true.
A sudden buzzing sound jolted you from your thoughts.
It took you a moment to realize what was happening. You met Grace's eyes as you looked at your phone on the coffee table. It was still buzzing, the screen lit up with an unknown number.
“That’s her number, babe. Go and take the call!“, Grace exclaimed, bouncing on the cushions of the sofa.
“Okay, okay, calm down. You’re even more nervous than me.“, you joked before taking the call. “Hello?“
“Hello, y/n. It’s Sarina. I’m just calling to inform you that you made the team and we can’t wait to meet you.“, the national team coach immediately got to the point.
You could not stop yourself from beaming: “Thank you, Sarina. This call-up means a lot to me.“
With her typical dutch accent, she replied: “You really deserve it. I hope to see you soon.“
“I can’t wait.“
Your cheeks already started to hurt from smiling as you ended the call.
Grace walked over to you and wrapped her arms around you: “I can see from the look on your face that you got the call-up. Congrats.“
„Thanks.“ You shook your head in disbelief: “We’ll be going to the England Senior National team together. I’m so excited!“
You quickly pulled away from your girlfriend's embrace and turned on some music. You took Graces hands in yours and started moving the rhythm.
The midfielder laughed, trying to follow your movements. You had to admit that even though celebrating your call-up to the national team with a dance party was something you usually did when you played for youth teams, it never lost its fun.
However, one sudden realization made you pause after two songs.
“I guess I should tell my sister the big news…“, you said suddenly.
Grace turned off the music and gave you an amused look: “I wouldn’t be surprised if she already knew.“
“You’re probably right. Lucy loves to chat with Sarina about womens football, maybe she gave her a hint during one of their conversations.“, you laughed, thinking back about the time your sister had told you about her discussions with her coach.
“Probably.“, your girlfriend agreed.
With a look on your phone, you had to correct yourself: “In fact, Lucy is already calling.“
Eagerly you answered your phone: “Hi, Luce. Sarina called me up for the lionesses!“
“I know! About time that you finally join the grown-ups.”, your big sister responded in a jokingly tone.
Amused you shook your head: “About time? Lucy, do I have to remind you that you were 22 when you joined the senior England team and that I just turned 21 in February?”
“Excuse me? Do you know who I had to compete with? Alex fucking Scott.”, she huffed.
“Yeah, yeah you had no chance before that I know the story, you told it many times.”, you teased her while the Barcelona defender could hear Grace laugh in the background.
Because you two were on a video call you were able to see Lucy lifting an eyebrow in this exact moment unlike her eyes her ears were hearing everything:” Who is with you? Is that Grace?”
“Yes, that’s Grace, we celebrated our call ups together before you called and interrupted us.”, you explained smirking.
She rolled her eyes at you:” Sorry, that I wanted to congratulate my sister.”
“No, it’s cute.”, Grace interjected.
You both wrinkled your nose, pretended to be disgusted by her comment, while the defender was the first to speak again:” Ew, don’t call this cute.”
“Yeah, we’re not cute we’re cool sisters.”, you added.
“I’m going to hang up now. I’ll see you in camp.”, Lucy declared. You both didn’t need to say anything more because you two knew that the other was excited and happy to meet her sister again.
“Goodbye, Lucy.”, you waved at her before ending the video call.
Still smiling you turned around to face your girlfriend:” Where were we before she came between us?”
“We danced but don’t worry I ordered our favourite dinner to celebrate this special day right.”, she winked at you.
Beaming you placed a kiss to her flushed cheek:” You’re the best.”
“If I was a Bronze, I would just say I know but I’m not so you’re welcome.”, Grace said, even a bit redder than before.
“No, I prefer you as a Clinton.”, you told her.
“Thanks.”
As the doorbell rang, she clapped her hands, looking thrilled:” Oh, that’s the delivery service!”
The days went by quickly, in just a blink of an eye Grace and you were arriving at St. George’s Park together. Your girlfriend didn’t even look like a boyfriend with her brown hoodie and cap on, she even had the attitude of one as the forward was attempting to carry both of your suitcases.
“Babe, I can take my suitcase perfectly by myself.”, you pouted at her, being a Bronze made you very independent although you secretly loved when Grace did something like this.
“No.”, she decidedly waved you off.
You both turned your heads to a cheerful scream coming from no other than Ella:” My favourite young lovebirds have arrived!”
Next to the Manchester United player your big sister showed up grinning, warning your girlfriend:” Clinton! Let her carry her suitcase herself, she’s getting spoiled!”
“You don’t get to have a say in how I treat my princess, Bronze. Especially not when I saw pictures of Ona carrying your things.“, Grace retorted unimpressed and continued to carry your suitcase towards your room.
There was an audible gasp from the older players.
Lucy pretended to gag: “Princess?“
“Don’t you dare say anything more!“, you warned and followed your girlfriend to your room.
You stayed in these rooms before with the youth teams but this time, things felt different, more serious. You took your time to take in the room before you started unpacking.
You were in the middle of putting away your warm-up shirts, when there was a knock on the door.
“Come on in.“, you said, expecting Grace to stand in the door way.
To your surprise, it was your sister that opened the door and let her gaze wander across the chaos you had created while unpacking: “Of course it’s chaotic in here already.“
“Rude!“, you said and threw a shirt in her general direction.
Lucy casually caught it mid-air and shook her head: “Typical.“
You crossed your arms in front of your chest, looking at your sister: “So, what do you want?“
“Checking in on you.“, she shrugged casually.
“Aw, that’s sweet of you.“, you teased her.
Lucy raised an eyebrow: “Sweet? Sarina made me do it.“
“She did?!“, you laughed, knowing full well that your sister was just pretending to be too cool to care about you.
“Yeah, she’s such a mum.“, Lucy rolled her eyes.
“But we’re adults here, I don’t need a babysitter.“, you protested.
“The youngsters always get babysitters.“
“Oh wow. Any advice for camp life, Lucy?“, you asked.
You older sister lifted a warning finger: “Yeah, be good or you’ll get in trouble with your sister.“
Before you could reply that Lucy was horribly annoying with her overprotectiveness, Grace appeared behind your sister with an innocent smile: “Sorry to interrupt you two but it’s dinner time.“
“Let’s go. We can’t miss that. The food here is great.“, Lucy said, nodding in the direction of the floor.
“Coming.“ You took Graces hand in yours as you followed your sister to the dining room.
“Look at this cute couple!“, Beth yelled when you entered the room.
Alessia who sat next to her Arsenal team mate agreed: “They’re so adorable.“
You could feel your cheeks heat as you sat down at their table.
Lucy grimaced in disgust: “Stop it, one of them is my little baby sister you’re gushing about.“
Lauren James who sat down next to Lucy with a full plate gave her a smirk: “Looks like she got all the good genes, Bronzy.“
“LJ, what do you mean by that?! Don’t worry, I’ll beat you on the training pitch.“, Lucy threatened her with a grin.
“You can try, grandma.“, the youngster laughed.
“Don’t you worry.“
You were glad that their playful bickering was entertaining the table now.
Gently, you squeezed Graces hand under the table: “Let’s ignore them for now and grab some food, love.“
“It’s kind of funny though.“, Grace grinned and got up from her seat, pulling you with her.
“Yes, it is.“, you admitted as you walked over to the buffet together.
As the blonde was putting some salad onto her plate, she hummed:” I love this team.”
“Me too.”, you nodded.
After taking a bite from the pasta dish your girlfriend continued raving:”And the food is delicious.”
“Oh yes, you weren’t promising too much.”
You two were back at your table and you really enjoyed the food the cooks made for the team.
“Right?”, Grace beamed at you.
“Yes.”
“But wait until training starts tomorrow.”, the Tottenham player reminded you why you were here in the first place.
“I’m ready for it.”, you truthfully replied, you simply couldn’t wait to prove everyone that you had a right to be here and not because you and your sister shared the same surname.
Delighted Grace announced:” It’s going to be fun.”
The training over the next days was tough and light-hearted at the same time because the atmosphere between the girls was great even though you were all competing for the starting eleven or to be substituted.
You couldn’t believe your luck when Sarina told you during the match against Sweden to warm up.
“Nervous, little Bronzey.”, Khiara asked you amused.
“A bit.”, you mumbled.
“You can do it.”, Esme whispered into your ear before hugging you shortly.
Making your way from the bench to the pitch Sarina patted encouragingly your shoulder: “She’s right, enjoy it, y/n.”
“Thank you, I won’t let you down.”, you promised the England coach before you stepped onto the grass. For a moment you felt overwhelmed by the noise and the crowd which showed up at Wembley remembering when you attended the first games of your big sister where only a few people came to watch it.
Naturally you looked for Lucy and for a second you exchanged a meaningful glance. Her green eyes which were the exact same shade as yours seemed to say Show them what you can do. You’re a Bronze. Now you were ready to play football.
In the end you didn’t disappoint Sarina who believed in you enough to give you a chance tonight, you assisted Grace and scored a goal yourself in the last minute of the game. The stadium was buzzing with excitement and so were you: “We won, Grace!”
“What a game you had!”, she shouted back giddily before kissing your cheek.
Equally thrilled you remarked:” You were amazing too.” Wearing a bright grin on your lips you turned around to face your sister:” What do you think, Luce? Was it good enough?”
You could tell that your sister forced her face to remain blank as she shrugged: “You were okay. The kiss wasn’t necessary though.“
“Yes, it was!“, Grace protested by your side, her hands wrapped around your waist in a side hug.
“Absolutely not.“, Lucy said and rolled her eyes before walking past you into the dressing room.
Grace and you shared an exhilarated grin and followed suit. As soon as the door of the dressing room closed behind you, you turned to your girlfriend and kissed her quickly and passionately. As soon as two of you broke apart again, you found your sister demonstratively looking into the opposite direction. You smirked.
Keira elbowed Lucy with a thrilled expression on her face: “Your little sister feels untouchable tonight. Those two are lucky that they are cute.“
“They’re not even that cute.“, the defender replied unimpressed.
Leah sang along to the song playing in the dressing room while pointing to you and Grace: “Baby, we’re the new romantics. The best people in life are free.“
Keira shrugged with a laugh: “Leah’s singing is even worse compared to them.“
Finally, the corners of Lucys mouth quirked upwards.
It was already late when you arrived back at the hotel. You had enjoyed celebrating your debut with the rest of the team but when you reached your hotel room, you were exhausted and ready to go to bed. You had just changed into your pyjamas when there was knock on your door. Yawning, you opened it and found yourself face to face with your older sister.
“Hi, what’s wrong. It’s late.“
Lucy stood there and considered you for a moment: “I’m proud of you, kid. You played great tonight.“
“I thought I was only okay.“, you smirked.
“Shut up and come here.“, she just said and pulled you into a tight hug. Her hugs might have been rare, but they always carried a lot of love. It felt comforting, almost like being home for Christmas and you suddenly realized how much you have missed playing with her again.
With your head was still buried on her shoulder, you whispered: “To be fair, I was a bit nervous… You made our family name so big in womens football and I didn’t want to let you or our team down.“
Lucy released you from the hug but kept her hands on your upper arms: “You couldn’t have let anyone down. You’re not me and people know that. One day, you might even be better than me.“
You gave her a weak smile: “Who knows, right?“
“Who knows.“
“But it felt great to play together.”, you admitted.
“We’ll have a few more games together, trust me. You’ll be called up again.”, Lucy replied seriously.
You felt your grin grew deeper: ”I’d love to play with you as long as possible.”
“You’ll.”, she promised solemnly while padding your back one last time before telling you good night and leaving the room.
“Finally, I thought she’ll never leave!”, Grace sighed relieved, the blonde had been hiding underneath the blankets during your whole chat with your sister.
“Grace!”, you exclaimed laughing.
“What? I could barely breathe under this.”, the Tottenham player said as she pointed accusingly to the bedding.
“Sorry, love.”, you apologized.
Her gaze at you turned soft:”Come here now.”
You quickly followed her wish and joined her in your hotel bed. Happily, Grace wrapped your arms around you. Feeling her warmth around you, you were starting to get sleepy:” That was a great game tonight, wasn’t it?”
“The best so far.”, your girlfriend responded, before she kissed the top of your head and turning the lights off. Today was certainly a day you both would remember and cherish forever.
#grace clinton#grace clinton x reader#grace clinton imagine#lucy bronze#lucy bronze x reader#lucy bronze imagine#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso#woso one shot#woso community#woso oneshot#lionesses#engwnt#tottenham women
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Humans are weird: Minecraft
Alien: What is the point of this game?
Human: It doesn’t have one; you can do whatever you want.
Alien: Can I burn this world and leave nothing but ash?
Human: Disturbingly specific but go ahead.
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Alien: How do I get wood?
Human: Punch some trees.
Alien: ………..
Alien: Punch some trees.
Human: Yup.
Alien: Are you mocking me?
Human: What?
Alien: Do you think I’m some sort of joke?
Alien: An object of ridicule for your amusement!?
Human: Okay, before you over react let me just show you.
Alien: *Starts reaching for sword when they see the human literally start punching trees for wood*
Alien: Oh. *Puts sword away* My apologies.
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Human: Why aren’t you playing?
Alien: There is a monster in my home.
Human: Is it an ender man?
Alien: No.
Human: Skeleton?
Alien: No.
Human: Creeper?
Alien: Nope.
Human: …………
Human: Zombie?
Alien: Thwarp no.
Human: *Takes controller and goes inside the house* What could it possibly be-
*Sees creature*
Human: That is a pig.
Alien: It is the stuff of nightmares.
Human: What the hell is scary about a pig?
Alien: Look into its eyes.
Alien: It has no soul; no remorse.
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Alien: What are you making?
Human: A doomsday device.
Alien: Are you allowed to build that on a public server?
Alien: Surely the admins would seek to stop you.
Human: They can’t stop it if they can’t find it.
Alien: What did you build?
Human: I placed a claim block, fifty blocks down, and started a cow farm.
Alien: That doesn’t sound so bad.
Human: There are currently five hundred cows in a four block pen.
Human: I have seen the amount of lag it generates drive men to madness.
Alien: You are the worst of your species.
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Alien: How goes it?
Human: I’ve created a massive creeper farm.
Alien: Dear gods why?!?!
Human: I want to see what happens when one of them is hit by lightning.
Alien: Why?
Human: I heard that it turns them into a super creeper.
Alien: Why would you want to make the sentient explosive even deadlier?
Human: To leave as a surprise for that griefer who blew up my chicken farm last week.
Alien: Ah.
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Alien: What are you building today?
Human: A nether portal
Alien: Is that the purple doorway thing in front of you?
Human: Yup.
Alien: What does it do?
Human: It’s a portal to this world’s version of hell.
Alien: WHAT?!
Alien: Is that not dangerous?
Human: I mean, I want glow stone for my city; and the only place to get glow stone is in the nether.
Alien: I weep for this world that has you as its caretaker.
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Alien: Why is all the sand from my beach gone?
Human: Needed it.
Alien: For what?
Human: Copious amounts of TNT.
Alien: Do I even want to know why?
Human: Remember that village that I defended only for the golem to attack me?
Alien: Yeah.
Human: Good.
Human: Because that memory of yours is all that is left of it.
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*stumbling down extensive mine network to find human friend deep underground.*
Alien: You ever coming topside again?
Alien: I just found these things called “Pandas” and they are adorable.
Human: Not until I find a diamond.
Alien: Oh gods, here we go again.
Human: There’s only fucking copper down here!
Human: What the hell can I even use for copper!?!
Alien: I think you can make lightning rods out of them.
Human: Oh yeah, sure, lightning rods.
Human: I’m sure those will be useful SIXTY BLOCKS UNDERGROUND!!!!
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Human: What’s this?
Alien: I’ve created an elaborate rail system that will allow me to transfer the citizens of one village to another village to make it a super village!
Human: Isn’t that considered kidnapping and human trafficking?
Alien: ………..
-------------
Alien: I have created these five iron golems to protect my home.
Alien: Nothing shall destroy it while I am away!
*Alien leaves into mines*
*Returns after an hour of mining to find the entire home destroyed by creepers*
Alien: What the flarp!
Alien: Where are my go-
*Turns to see all five golems distracted by some flowers*
-------------
Alien: Something just occurred to me.
Human: What’s that?
Alien: If you can use the portal to this nether, why can’t things down there use it to escape?
Human: Pfft.
Human: That’s impossible.
Alien: Is it?
Human: *Dramatic pause before sprinting over to portal with alien behind him*
*Both arrive to find legion of pigmen pouring out from the portal*
Alien: Congratulations, you created the end times.
Alien: I hope that glow stone was worth it.
Human: *draws sword* It really was.
#HUMANS ARE WEIRD#humans are insane#humans are space orcs#humans are space oddities#funny#writing#original writing#niqhtlord01#minecraft
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would u? (3tan717) | myg
3tan717 drabble #1: would u?
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717
rating/genre: pg (18+) ; fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: you see a certain fruit-centered trend online.. and decide to test it on yoongi
note: i am so so so sorry this is out on the very last day of feb but things have been absolute bananas lately! tbh i’m surprised this is even getting posted on time and i have even more to do after this is shared but eff it shibal!!!
note 2: as promised, this is dedicated to the people that submitted the answers i’m using for this drabble: anon, grapes / @yoongrace, and apryl @aprylynn for this idea hehehe! also i literally just finished this so it's legit unedited so i'm sry for any mistakes! off to go prep for events now!
warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, working yoongi??, kitchen, period cramps suck but yoongi to the mf rescue
drop date: feb 29th, 2024, 10:03pm est
word count: 2.3k
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Ugh.
Why does this have to happen every fucking month. Why can’t it happen every three? Or six? Or never ever ever?
Groaning, you roll over, burying your face into the pillow on Yoongi’s side.
To some degree, you feel placated, probably due to his scent still lingering next to your dismay. He had to get up early to finish a track, but he assured you can be in the room.
You can hear a little bit of what he’s working on as it bleeds through his headphones, and even just this sliver of sound gives you chills. Not just because of what it sounds like, but the sole fact that Yoongi’s letting you even listen in the first place.
Huffing out a bit of amusement, you remember the last time Yoongi let you stay while he worked—albeit at his place while he went to the studio.
Damn, how much you’ve grown since then. All those memories, those quiet times and tumultuous times, everything leading up to now. How time has molded you with knowing hands.
However, no matter how much has changed all these months, some things have not wavered, like the fact that you needed to be sure he was okay with it—and his answer making you absurdly shy.
Did he really have to say that you’re either staying or he’s gonna leave? That scheming motherfucker!
Some drum beats hit your cheek before you realize the menace himself is playing multiple different ones. It’s only a couple hits before he moves onto the next, and you’re about to lift your hea—
“Fuck, where the hell is that kick?”
Your laugh is stifled by cotton. As tickled as you are to hear Yoongi like this, you don’t wanna do anything to distract him.
But by doing so, that causes your body to tighten and fuck, it hurts. It hurts to move, it hurts to laugh, it hurts to just exist. God, you want him to come back and join you so bad, but you don’t wanna be that person.
…Yet. Maybe if it gets so bad you can’t even sleep?
“Found you! Fucking finally. Thought you could hide from me, huh?”
Oh, fucking hell, he’s adorable.
Yeah, there’s no way you’re making him drop everything right now. This is too precious of an afternoon to stop.
Exhaling a mile long breath, you fight through your pain and feel for your phone, groaning as you shift yourself. When in position under sheets and warm sunlight, you cycle through apps as a distraction.
Scrolling. Scrolling. Smiling at some animal videos a bit before scrolling again.
After all of five minutes, you start to see a trend on your feed, and suddenly get the idea to try it on Yoongi. It’s simple and harmless, right?
You [3:30pm]: would u peel an orange for me
Yoongi doesn’t say anything, and you lift your head slightly to see if he looks at his phone.
When he does, he checks it really quick before setting it back down on his desk, back to clicking on his screen.
Ah. Damn. He must really be in the zone because…
Uhh.
Blinking, you watch as Yoongi rolls his chair out to get up, setting his glasses down and heading out of the room with a light swing of his chains.
Uh. What just happened? Did you upset him? You’re so stunned that his swift exit has you wanting to get up and follow him.
But ow. Ouch. It’s maddening how much your cramps are getting to you.
Bearing the punches to your gut, you start sliding out of the bed, straining and sucking in sharp breaths just to stand and pull Yoongi’s comforter over your tension.
Padding out the bedroom, your worries make your steps tiny and heavy, and you regret sending that text because you literally just said you weren’t… gonna…
On the dining table—quiet—lie three tangerines, peeled and placed next to vibrant scraps while your lover peels a fourth with diligent, devoted hands.
And you can’t even form words that match how you feel.
Your vision swims right as Yoongi looks your way, his body stilling before he puts the fruit down.
When he approaches with concern, you answer his silent questions through hiccups, “I—I thought you left cus—you were mad.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t even know,” you swallow, gesturing to all of your lower half and feeling him hold the slipping blanket. “It’s just… this, I guess.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Like a motherfucker.”
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, doll. Hold up.” Handing you the comforter, Yoongi goes to his cabinets in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of medicine before walking it over. “You gotta take something as soon as you feel it. Don’t let it get this bad.”
“I know,” you groan, resting your head on his shirt and inhaling his healing presence. “I didn’t wanna bother you.”
Your forehead is kissed. “You’re not bothering me. Especially with something like this.”
“Okay.”
He walks away again to grab some water, and you watch as he pours some into an electric kettle before starting it up.
Glancing back at the fruit, you sigh, clutching the bottle of pills while feeling the weight of his comforter. He’s probably not pleased with the way it might drag on the ground, so you gather it and pick the end chair to sit on.
And then you sigh, “Sorry for making you peel those. I didn’t even plan on eating anything.”
“Too bad. You’re gonna eat what I make you anyway.”
Wait, he’s cooking? He has work to do! “You’re working, though. Don’t worry about me right now.”
“It’ll be quick.”
“What are you making?”
A glass bowl and pan are procured from random places before Yoongi blinks in place. “Uhh.. You’ll see.”
As he clunks them onto his counter and stove, you watch with hearts for eyes as he bustles around the kitchen space. Even doing things as simple as washing his hands, opening his fridge, and simply grabbing a knife gives you pause.
And this is when you realize that you can watch Yoongi do absolutely anything and be amazed.
Even when he stands, watching you with a look that’s wait why doesn’t he look—
“Take the medicine, baby girl.”
Oh.
Snapping out of your trance, you nod. “Sorry.”
Yoongi continues to give you glances until you swallow down the painkillers, satisfied enough to continue his cooking venture when you take the second one.
As the sun paints the apartment in marigold and light, you keep watching with a smile as he brings the kitchen to life. Butter sizzles in a pan, tangerines are getting halved on a board, and something is getting mixed with a whisk.
Who knew that the neighborhood fuckboy would have a whisk on hand? Not the younger you, that’s for damn sure.
But here Yoongi is, in the flesh, whisking away with veiny forearms that have you thinking the most absurd thoughts during this time of the month. The only thing that would cut through the raging horniness would be getting up to see what the hell he’s making.
It’s starting to smell familiar though. But he put the tangerines in the pan so you don’t even know what to expect right now.
Walking up—blanket left behind—you observe the kitchen before peering over his broad shoulder. “Mm.. Smells like pancakes.”
Yoongi doesn’t answer, but when you see the consistency of the batter, you realize you’re correct. “Oh, it is! I’m smart.”
“You are,” he laughs. “But you didn’t get it all the way right.”
“No?”
“Nope.” Yoongi then gently gets you to move before he pours the batter over the slices, and you crane your neck to watch as he evens it all out. “Just one tangerine pancake.”
“Oh, okay,” you scoff, earning a laugh at your side. “Whatever, chef.”
“We’ll see what you say in a bit.”
Is he gonna leave it or flip it? Probably the latter.
“K. Gonna flip that once it’s done.”
Nice. You smile to yourself, loving how you’re starting to really be on the same page. Nudging him, you keep watching as he lowers the heat and sets the lid on the pan. “What now?”
“We wait,” he responds, dusting his hands together before cleaning up his mixing bowl. “And I’m gonna see if we have any sugar.”
Damn it, Yoongi cannot keep saying that two-letter word. It’s starting to be detrimental to your health. “I can help.”
“S’ok,” he assures, nose upturned. “Just watch me work.”
“Oh, I’m very good at doing that.”
At this, Yoongi turns and gives you a smile that immediately reminds you of summer, and you almost feel like crying again.
“I’ve actually never tried this, but. We’ll see if this works.”
With nothing snarky, or teasing, or fake to say, you reply with a smile and a genuine, “I’m sure it will.”
When he keeps staring, his eyes lower to your lips, and you don’t care that you probably look like a wreck, or feel like one. Because the way he’s looking at you now makes you glow.
If only the kettle didn’t decide this was the moment to stop boiling.
You were probably about to get the kiss of your life.
But Yoongi halts in his tracks before shifting to get a mug, setting it down with a thud before checking on the pancakes. Pancake. Whatever that delicious-smelling thing is gonna be.
“There’s some tea packets in that right drawer. Help yourself cus I’d rather you pick.”
Chuckling, you oblige before scooting over. After seeing a small jar of granules on the counter, you start rummaging through the drawer, exploring the various options while hearing the sound of a plate behind you.
Ah, Yoongi’s flipping it.
As you turn, you’re just in time to watch the muscles in his back protrude through his shirt as he flips the pan, impressed as he sets the plate down because holy hell that looks great.
“Sugar, sugar, sugar… Suga, suga, suga.”
Laughing, you interrupt his silly search as you grab the jar you just saw. “Suga suga, how you get so fly?”
Yoongi stops to see what’s in your hand, and he huffs through a grin before grabbing it. “Thanks, doll.”
You keep humming the song that’s now wedged into your head as you watch him sprinkle bits on the pancake.
“I don’t have a blowtorch,” he admits, “But I do have this.”
Rolling out a drawer, Yoongi takes out a long lighter before holding it to the sugary top, humming the same song you were just singing without even knowing it. As the sugar slowly but surely heats, you both keep humming and basking in a calm afternoon.
And you don’t even feel the pain anymore.
“Go ahead and sit, babe.”
“You sure?”
“Uh huh.”
Following instructions, you make your way to the table, cocooning yourself in his comforter again as you await the cutest meal you’ve had in weeks. Months. Lifetimes.
Speaking of lifetimes… You hope every version of you meets every version of him. No matter when. No matter where. Because you want every version of yourself to find happiness, and Yoongi has been the one to help you finally find it.
And he certainly passed whatever the hell this orange theory thing was supposed to be.
Plates are set down to break you out of introspection, and you glance up with eyes sparkling.
When Yoongi raises a brow, you just smile. When he asks what’s gotten into you, a chuckle escapes before you shake your head,
“Nothing, baby. Just didn’t expect all this from that text.”
As he plops into the next chair, you love the way the sun settles on his skin. Highlights his hair. Shimmers in his eyes.
“Don’t even need to ask, babe.” He captures your attention with a calm look. “I was waiting for any distractions anyways.”
So this was for him, too? Good.
Grabbing your fork, you giggle. “Sounded like you were having a little trouble over there.”
“I was! This is what I get for not saving my shit.”
Both of you sit back in laugher as you throw your hands out. “Do that!”
“I’m lazy!”
“Tough shit!”
“I know!”
Grinning, you loll your head before waving your fork out. “You’re gonna save those sounds, and you’re gonna remember this day and thank me.”
Yoongi just tightens his lips in a smile, eyes creased and glimmering. “Maybe.”
“Yes. I’ll stand there and watch you until you do it.”
"Really.."
For the rest of the afternoon—with full bellies and clear minds—you rest on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, forcing him to find the files he needs and watching him groan his way through saving everything.
Constantly laughing at the ridiculously random names he’s assigning them.
When he’s done, you watch as he spins around in his chair, heart thumping with anticipation as you’re met with a waiting pair of eyes.
Breathtaking.
When he leans in, you feel incredibly shy. Always, always, always. This will forever remain the same.
And—just as well—Yoongi's kisses will forever taste like tangerines.
Three of them, to be exact.
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fin. :)
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how did the first 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe
a/n: nothing much to say other than i love y'all so much! i will try responding to anything when i can (there's literally still all the 3tan12 feedback to get to) but i do read all the commentary sent in and it keeps me going strong :'))) so thank you again for being here and being amazingly patient with me. off to work on more things but i shall be back once the wild weeks are over!
a/n 2: suga suga how you get so flyyyy hahaha
#ahhhh here we go!#3tan717d1#3tan717#bts fic#bts imagines#*ryenfictalk#bts reactions#bts fanfic#yoongi fic#yoongi fanfic#three tangerines#yoongi fluff#yoongi x you#yoongi x reader#*latest#ryenwrites#bts fluff
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the box [boxerry]
“Can I help you?” She asks, voice a little throaty and scratchy.
He’s got a baseball cap on his head, longish brown hair curling around the rim of it and his ears. His eyes are a little squinted and there’s a heavy stubble that decorates his jaw and chin. Y/N thinks he looks much more intimidating in this attire, opposed to the suit she last saw him in.
He drinks her in before he speaks. She’s wearing a pair of boyfriend jeans and a knitted jumper, and her hair is half plaited up, the rest falling into natural waves down her back. He thinks she looks quite pretty for an elderly support worker.
“I’m Harry. I used to box with your brother.”
She nods, biting at her inner cheek. “Figured that when no one recognised you or your friends at the wake.” She squints at him again, scratching at her sore neck. “Look I don’t mean to be rude, but what do you want? How do you even know I work here?” Her tone holds more accusation as she rambles on and Harry can’t help a somewhat amused smile tug on the corners of his mouth.
He shrugs. “I have my ways.” His arms are still crossed over his chest but he didn’t answer Y/N’s first question. She raises a brow and Harry inhales heavily before his shoulders sag and he drops his arms to his side. “I need t’ talk to ya about the club.”
Her brows are pinched harder than before and she shakes her head in confusion, shifting from one foot to the other. “Club? What club?” Her movement allows Harry to see the cut on her smooth forehead and he frowns, reaching closer to inspect it but Y/N’s too quick and with wide eyes, she backs away.
He realises his forwardness and holds his hands up in surrender; standing straighter. “The underground club. Y’know… the one your brother left to you when he died.” She blinks again, lips parting and she’s blubbering a little like she’s trying to understand what he’s talking about.
Realisation is quick to wash over Harry’s face and he nods. Of course Sam wouldn’t tell her anything about what she’d be taking over. Typical.
She takes a deep breath. “Why the fuck would I be left an underground fight club by my brother? He was just a boxer,” she sighs tiredly, punching the bridge of her nose and Harry frowns harder. So maybe she didn’t really know anything about him.
He shakes his head. “Your brother wasn’t just a fighter, Y/N. He owned the club. Sam was the best fighter we had in The Box and he bought it outright five years ago. Always said if anything happened to him, you’d be the one to take it over, do whatever you think best wi’ it.”
Y/N is silent, tears welling in her eyes and she stomps her foot like an insolent child, like she can’t believe this is fucking happening. “You’re telling me I now own an illegal underground boxing club?” Her voice is frantic, high-pitched and whispered through gritted teeth.
Her hands find their way to her hair, gripping on her roots in disbelief. “It’s a good business investment, if you're into that.” He shrugs, arms crossed over his chest again and he’s struggling to understand why she’s so worked up about it.
If Harry had just inherited a three quarters of a million pound business, he’d be fucking ecstatic. But Y/N isn’t ecstatic and she’s staring at him in complete bewilderment.
“No, Harry. No, I’m not into that. Sell it, give it away, I don’t care. I don’t want it.”
READ PART ONE OF THE BOX ON PATREON ONLY :)
#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles smut#imagine harry styles#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles oneshot#harry styles fluff#harry styles fic#harry styles angst#patreon exclusive#boxerry
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Making Self Deprecating Jokes Around Them
For @aliceneedsphalis
Alastor
Before you got together, he’d chuckle at the jokes but as he started to care about you the laughter would begin to fade.
He’d begin to ask the question, “Who made you think of yourself this way?”
If you could give him the name of people, expect them to be gone when he “crosses paths” with them.
It’s completely unrelated to what you revealed, he promises.
No, no, he just happened to stumble upon them acting a fool and decided to set them straight is all.
It wasn’t until you got together that he started to refute your “jokes.”
The first time he gave a gentle flick to the back of your head, you turned to him gobsmacked.
“Why did you do that?!” “I have rules, my dear, and one of those is to not let the object of my affections talk bad about themselves.”
At some point, you just expect it.
On occasion, you’ll say something and expect it only to not get it.
“What are you doing?” “I’m waiting on you to flick the back of my head.” “Why is that? I do have a sense of humor.”
He’ll wait until you let your guard down and then flick your head as he walks by. It’s no fun if you know it’s coming.
He does try to build your confidence though.
Randomly he’ll pop into your room with a list, a list of all the negative things you’ve said about yourself.
He’ll hold you in front of a mirror and make you look at both yourself and him as he praises what you’ve unconsciously revealed you dislike.
He doesn’t hold back his amusement as he watches you squirm.
Husk
He lets you make the jokes even if he doesn’t like them.
He’s not going to laugh. He barely even reacts.
One day though, he’ll let slip how he feels.
“Do you really think it’s funny, hating yourself? Because I don’t. You cope however you need to. I’m not going to blame you for that but it hurts to see someone I care about so much treat themself so badly.”
He might team up with Charlie or Hell, even Rosie to try to figure out a way to change your coping though.
It’s not overt but more so an offering of different ways for you to cope instead. Giving you more options than the one you have even if you still fall to the crutch.
He’s not one who’s too much of a fan of PDA, much less words of affirmation in public.
In private though, he’s constantly building you up.
He whispers how beautiful, funny, insightful, and strong he thinks you are.
He’ll be half asleep and playing with your hair, watching it weave through his claws, as he looks at you with pupils so blown they take over all the color and go on about how lucky he is to have you.
Rosie
“Now why would ya say that about yourself, hon?” is what she asks the first time you make a joke of that kind.
She wants to help you get to the root of your problems.
She’s going to subtly break into your walls and get the damn to break that holds all the secrets to why you feel this way.
She may or may not give Alastor some names if she hears them.
She might get some kind of positivity train going.
One day you just get a bunch of letters and gifts from friends that explain how much they appreciate and care for you. When you wonder aloud if there’s any special occasion you missed, Rosie just shrugs.
She is a bragger by nature, I believe, but she’d take care to make sure you were in ear shot if she could when she starts bragging about you.
She wants you to know how much she truly cares and appreciates you.
She’ll let everyone else know in the process though.
Vox
This man did not give a single flying fuck about how you saw yourself until he started caring about you in an intimate way.
It’s not that it didn’t bother him before but it didn’t bother him enough for him to make time to do something about it.
He’s a busy man and he’s used to being surrounded by people (*cough cough* Valentino *cough cough*) who will talk his ears off about their problems that he doesn’t actually care about.
He’s not just going to make you spill why you see yourself the way you do without a good enough reason.
He might even laugh at some.
He is a nervous/uncomfortable laughs though so just because he laughs doesn’t mean he finds it funny.
Even when you start dating, he’s not going to ask you why. He’s just going to listen to you ramble about your life and death and out pieces together.
Certain people he looks for on his camera and they disappear.
Aside from singing your praises and showering you with gifts though, he doesn’t really know what to do.
#vox x reader#hazbin vox x reader#hazbin rosie x reader#rosie x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin alastor x reader#hazbin husk x reader#husk x reader
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