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ellemj · 3 months

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Flustered: Part 2 (FINAL)

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Two-Part Fic: SMUT

Request by @aryarcharon: enemies to lovers, fuckboy!Bucky, praise kink.

Summary: You might be able to fuck away a crush but you can't fuck away an obsession.

Warnings: profanity, fuckboy!Bucky, size kink, praise kink, oral sex (female receiving), kinda threat with a belt in the bedroom but nothing happens, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I hope this meets some expectations lmao, I get nervous when the first part of a series or two-part thing gets a lot of attention. Also to the people who have randomly tipped me, BLESS YOU 🥹🖤 I actually cry a little when I get those notifs.

Fucking someone, anyone but you, is what Bucky needs tonight. It’s what he’s needed every night since he met you honestly, but especially tonight. The dangerous game that the two of you have been playing has left Bucky with a feeling similar to that of climbing Mount Everest. The longer the climb goes on, the harder it gets for him to breathe. God, it feels like his lungs are trapped at a high altitude every minute that he’s around you at this point. So, Bucky will be skipping the monthly team game night to fuck a girl he met two days ago.

He pulls his leather jacket over his arms and shoves the key to his bike in his pocket as he gives himself one last look in the mirror. The tiniest seed of doubt presents itself in his mind as he meets his own gaze in the mirror. Fucking someone else won’t fix this. Fucking someone else might put a crush out of one’s mind…but this is more than a crush. As Bucky stands there, staring at himself, the realization comes crashing in like a damn freight train running off of its rails. This is obsession.

If Bucky’s breathing can be compared to the struggle of oxygenation at a high altitude, then your breathing can be compared to taking one’s first natural breath after a successful lung transplant. Every time you say something to get under his skin, every time you watch his smirk fall away and his chest rise and fall a little faster, you suddenly feel like you’re standing outside, taking in a breath of cool, crisp autumn air. The dirty little game between the two of you is simultaneously ruining Bucky’s life and giving you life.

________________

“Hey, you’re staying for game night?” Sam’s voice rings out as Bucky steps into the main living area, where the entire team is gathered both on the couch and the nearby floor. The entire team except for you, he notices, as he scans the group.

“I have somewhere to be.” Bucky answers gruffly, coming to stand next to the end of the couch where Sam sits.

“Hot date?” Sam jokes, giving him a quick once-over. As soon as he sees the leather jacket, he knows he’s either taking the bike out to wherever he’s going, or he’s going on a mission. Sam is positive it’s the former, because if it was the latter, he’d know about it.

“Always.” Bucky says with a smirk, shoving Sam’s shoulder. As the rest of the team begins chatting amongst themselves, Bucky catches himself looking around for you. Are you out tonight? Do you have a date? Bucky’s jaw clenches as he briefly envisions you dressing up for your trainer and sitting down to have a meal with him. You had better fucking not.

“Heading out?” The unexpected sound of your voice breaks Bucky out of his moment of mental weakness and he turns around quickly, coming to face you. You must’ve been in your room, he thinks, since you came from the direction of the hallway. Of course his obsessive mind would assume that you went out with the piece of shit who thinks you’re as fragile as a damn butterfly. “That’s too bad, I was really looking forward to kicking your ass tonight.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” Bucky says calmly, staring into your eyes as the room grows quiet.

“But I thought—” Sam begins repeating Bucky’s earlier claim that he had somewhere to be, but he’s quickly cut off by Bucky shooting him a look that says something along the lines of say one more word and watch what happens. “Oh, right, your date is tomorrow night, not tonight.” Sam recovers with a lie. After one look at you, Bucky abandoned his plan to fuck away his feelings. You brush past him to take a seat on the floor by the coffee table, and as your arm collides with the fabric of his leather jacket, all he can think about is the image of a freight train careening off the rails and going up in a fiery blaze. Obsession. His obsession with you is going to be his undoing, he’s sure of it.

______

The team game night was significantly more intense than normal with both you and Bucky being present. Well, it wasn’t just the fact that you were both in attendance for once. It was the fact that you were both so set on showing one another up. The entire night basically turned into a cut-throat duel, with cards and game pieces instead of knives and guns.

You stand in the living area alone now, stacking up all of the game boxes on the coffee table as you listen to the soft sound of the kitchen faucet running. After all of your back and forth arguing and shit-giving, you and Bucky were forced to take the cleanup duty yourselves, as restitution. You thought Bucky would continue on with the act once everyone went their separate ways for bed, but you were utterly surprised when he offered to take the kitchen cleanup and leave you only to handle the games. It was as if whatever competitive, teasing switch he had that had been turned on all night was suddenly turned off once he had you alone.

Bucky rinses off the last dish in the sink, watching intently as the suds run down his vibranium fingers and into the drain. With every dish he washed, he imagined his obsession going down the drain with the suds. It was almost therapeutic, until he sensed you stepping into the kitchen behind him. He stiffened instantly as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

You stand still as Bucky turns off the faucet and sets the final clean dish in the drying rack. You don’t really know why you decided to approach him. You could’ve gone to bed once you finished putting the games away, but your feet carried you in the opposite direction. So, now here you are, staring at the defined muscles of his back through his taut shirt.

“What’s up with you?” You ask quietly, leaning back against the island a couple of feet behind Bucky. You realize you’re in similar positions as the night you figured out that he has a size kink, except you’ve switched places.

“What do you mean?” He answers your question with his own as he towels his hands dry and turns around to mirror your position. He leans back against the front of the sink as he looks you over carefully. You’re suddenly entranced by the way he meticulously dries in every little crevice of his vibranium arm, as if he’s done it thoroughly a thousand times before, as if it’s a routine. When he notices you staring at the action, that familiar smirk returns to his face. “You don’t know how to act around me when I’m not fucking around with you, do you?” He asks in a near condescending tone. You narrow your eyes as you raise them to meet his gaze. When you don’t say anything in response, Bucky continues his work with the towel, warring within himself. He knows he shouldn’t keep going like this. He should leave right now and spend the night with any other woman underneath him so he can bury whatever it is that he feels about you. But the next words leave his lips anyway. “You miss it, don’t you? You can’t stand not having my attention, even for five minutes.”

“Bullshit. You’re too damn cocky for your own good.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t make a move to leave the kitchen, and Bucky takes note of that.

“And you’re a tease. Which is worse?” Bucky asks. He begins carefully folding the towel, slower than you’ve ever seen him do anything. You’re mesmerized by his hands.

“I’m not a tease.”

“Bullshit.” Bucky calls out, setting the towel on the countertop beside him.

“I’m not.”

Bucky exhales slowly as he pushes away from the sink and straightens up before you. The look he gives you sends an icy shiver down your spine.

“Good girls don’t lie.”

______

To you, the next two minutes were a blur. The only thing that registered in your mind was a brief, fleeting thought of not giving a fuck and punching Bucky in his smug face. Your legs had the right idea when they rushed forward, carrying you straight toward him, but the rest of your body betrayed you and somehow you ended up kissing him.

Bucky didn’t even return your kiss at first. He stood there, completely stunned, as your soft lips met his. It took two seconds before his senses were able to convince his body that this was actually happening, and then he lost every ounce of control. The days of back and forth teasing, the innuendos, the lingering glance, it all came together like a pile of firewood and combusted right there in the kitchen. Bucky’s right hand tangled in your hair like it was instinct. As his palm connected with the nape of your neck, he gave your hair a gentle tug and earned himself a sweet moan that traveled from your mouth, straight into his.

He was fucked.

Now, Bucky’s heart is beating out of his chest as he watches you step into his dark bedroom in front of him. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears as he turns around and pushes the door shut, turning the lock into place and then taking a deep breath. Obsession. He has you in his fucking bedroom. He started out the night telling himself to go fuck another woman and now he has you right where he’s always wanted you.

His room smells just like him. It’s dark, but not so dark that you can’t make out his neatly made bed and distinct lack of decor in the space. You’re suddenly aware of the reason why he never brings women here, always choosing to meet them elsewhere instead. The place could be mistaken for a hotel room, without a single personal memento or hint that a person actually lives here. You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you take in the new setting. When you turn around to face him, he’s leaning against the door.

“You don’t have a single picture in here.” You point out casually, as if you didn’t just jump the man three minutes ago and then follow him to his bedroom for god knows what. Bucky keeps his eyes trained on yours.

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Among other things, yeah.” You admit, walking backwards until you feel the edge of his mattress against the backs of your knees. You sink down onto it, maintaining eye contact through the dark space around you.

“Other things…” Bucky mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair and for a second, he almost looks unsure of himself.

“You were so cocky just five minutes ago.” You tsk, shaking your head. “I didn’t expect Bucky Barnes, the ultimate man-whore, to have performance issues.” Your words could’ve gone in either one of two very different directions. You could’ve hit a sensitive spot of his and turned him off, or you could’ve brought out the side of him you’ve been seeing for days.

“You talk so fucking big for someone so fucking small.” Bucky’s demeanor shifts, and suddenly the energy in the room is as charged as it was the day you sparred with him. You’re silent as he steps away from the door and starts undoing his belt with one hand. One. Fucking. Hand.

“Bucky—”

“No, you sit there and look pretty, don’t say a fucking word.”

You close your mouth instantly, partially due to the shock of his boldness but mostly because when Bucky Barnes tells you what to do, with his hand on his belt, you’ll do it. You aren’t quite sure when your body decided to switch from always wanting to do the opposite of what he said to wanting to do everything he says, but you have a feeling it happened around the time he started praising you for the tiniest things.

“That’s right, you can’t even help yourself, can you? You listen to me because you know it’ll get you what you want.” His voice is smooth and even. Any hint of hesitation has vanished. As he pulls his belt out of the belt loops, he glances down at the strip of leather in his hands. So many things he could do with it, he thinks. He steps even closer to where you sit at the foot of the bed and you swallow hard as you look up at him. Bucky’s mind is reeling. He remembers the way you looked up at your trainer in the gym that day, the way you smiled at him. He almost laughs thinking about how jealous he was of that. And now he has you like this. Bucky drops the belt on the bed beside you and then pulls his shirt over his head in one swift movement, dropping it on the floor beside your feet. As your gaze drops to take in the sight of his toned chest, the scars along his left shoulder, his godly abs, he smiles to himself.

You feel the last dry fabric between your legs become wet when he hooks a finger under your chin and tilts it upwards, forcing you to look up at him once more.

“Keep behaving, and I won’t touch that.” He says evenly, cocking his head in the direction of the belt. Bucky slowly drops to his knees in front of you, placing both hands firmly on your thighs. “Act up, and you’ll have two reasons why you can’t sit down tomorrow, instead of one.”

When he talks to you like that, things either start moving in slow motion or they start fast forwarding. You find yourself flat on your back, with your legs hooked over his shoulders so suddenly that you aren’t sure if it happened in seconds or minutes. You aren’t even sure if you said a word, though the belt still lies on the bed beside you so you must’ve kept his command and stayed quiet.

“You have no idea…” Bucky whispers as he kisses along your inner thigh. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to be between these thighs.” His admission sends blush to your cheeks and a shudder throughout your body. He raises his head for a moment and looks into your eyes. Fuck, he needs to stop doing that. Every time he makes eye contact with you, he’s pushed closer and closer to throwing every care out the window and fucking you like a goddamn animal. He focuses on your dripping cunt instead, finally giving himself the chance to admire it. Every time he breathes you feel it. When he presses his tongue flat against your entrance and begins to drag it up toward your clit, your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact.

“Fuck.” You exhale the word sharply, letting your eyes flutter closed and your fists grip his bedding. As soon as the word leaves your mouth, you remember what he said. Don’t say a fucking word.

“You taste so fucking sweet.” Bucky groans, breaking away from your cunt and pressing his forehead against your thigh to ground himself. “Shit.”

Seconds later, Bucky is working his tongue all over you, into you, like he really has waited forever for this moment. His desperation and fervency only adds to the sensations between your legs, causing a knot to twist in your lower stomach at record speed. As soft whimpers and moans slip past your lips, which you’re trying hard to keep pressed together, Bucky sucks on your clit and remembers what he told you to do.

“Let me hear you, please.” He says just loud enough for you to hear, before diving right back in. In that moment, you can’t believe the filthy sounds that begin spewing from your mouth. Bucky eats up every single sound, every single swear, every single syllable of his name falling from your lips. His name. God, every time you moan his name, his cock twitches in his jeans and he loses another piece of his mind. When your back arches off the bed again and your thighs tighten on the sides of his head, he knows you’re right on the edge. That’s when he, without warning, flicks his tongue over your clit and slips two fingers inside of you. With a few thrusts and curls of his fingers against your walls, and his mouth’s unrelenting actions on your clit, you’re coming undone for him. “That’s it, cum for me.” He encourages you, practically finger fucking you right through your orgasm. “I knew you’d sound so fucking pretty when you cum.”

You’re a limp, panting mess on his bed as he crawls over you, peppering your naked body with kisses all the way up.

“Talk to me.” He coos, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as he waits for you to say something, anything.

“That was…” You take a deep breath mid-sentence, trying to steady your voice. “You just…” You’re mentally kicking yourself for not being able to form a coherent sentence. You have no doubt that your loss of basic speech skills is only going to inflate his ego.

“That was a fucking dream.” He says softly, sucking on your earlobe and then moving to hover over you. He takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are blown, and you’re struggling to catch your breath. It’s adorable. “Can you move up higher in the bed or do I need to move you myself?” He asks. At first, you think he’s joking, but when you look into his eyes you see that he’s dead serious. A moment later, you’re settling in with your head on his pillow as he stands beside the bed and strips every last shred of his clothes off. Though your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the room, the shadows make it impossible to see Bucky’s fully naked form. It isn’t until he’s positioning himself back on top of you that you get the answer to the question that had been on your mind.

“Oh my god, Bucky.” You gasp as his hard cock presses firmly against your thigh.

“Hmm?” He knows exactly what you’re reacting to, and if you could see the smirk painted across his face right now you’d probably want to slap him.

“It’s…you’re so big.” Your voice turns into a whisper. You’re sure you feel his cock twitch and a little bit of precum drip onto your thigh when the words leave your lips. Oh, right. Bucky’s size kink. It makes sense now. How could a guy with such a big dick not have a size kink? “It’s not going to fit.” You say assuredly.

“Oh, it’ll fit. Remember what you said?” Bucky remembers what you said like it was five minutes ago. “I can take whatever you have to give me. You said that to me.” He reminds you.

“I didn’t know—”

“Oh, you knew.” He chuckles, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. He distracts you with ease, licking along your bottom lip and then letting it delve into your mouth gently, just as he grinds the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp into the kiss, which only encourages him to deepen it further. He starts rutting against you, dragging his cock back and forth between your folds with every movement of his hips. If he had it his way, he’d be fully sheathed within you right now, fucking you so hard you’d see stars.

Bucky lets the head of his cock get closer and closer to your entrance with every rut of his hips, but he continues distracting you with his mouth. He fully intended to keep kissing you when he finally let his cock slide into you, but just as he notches inside of you and starts pushing in, he breaks the kiss.

His lips hover within millimeters of yours as your pussy grips him and pulls him in deeper and deeper. You’re both open-mouthed, breathing into each other, looking into each other’s eyes as your bodies meld together. Obsession. It’s the only word on his mind as he watches your eyes squeeze shut while your legs spread all for him.

He fucks you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust as he sticks to shallow thrusts. When your eyes open and you look up at him once again, he smiles down at you and picks up the pace, thrusting a little deeper as you start to focus on the feel of him. But when your name leaves his lips and you start scratching your nails down his bare back? He starts fucking you like he owns you. He fucks you as meticulously as he cleaned the crevices of his vibranium arm earlier.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well.” Bucky groans, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. “My cock is splitting you in half and you’re fucking taking it.” He can feel how close you are, and the absolutely cock-drunk expression on your face only confirms it. Your expression paired with the most sultry moans he’s ever heard have him following you right to the edge. “You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl, ready to cum all over my cock.”

“Bucky, if you keep talking like that—fuck.” He only speeds up when you start talking, convinced that if you’re still talking, he’s not fucking you hard enough.

“Shut the fuck up.” He groans, hating the way those few simple words from you nearly made him blow his load. “Shit.” Bucky hooks your legs around his waist and pulls your arms away from his back, pinning them down on the bed on either side of your head. He doesn’t have to say another word for you to know what he’s doing. He’s fucking you until you can’t do anything, until you can’t say anything, until all you can do is cum for him.

Your orgasm is uncontrollable when it comes crashing in, making your back arch off of the bed and your bare chest press against his as you cry out his name.

Bucky’s orgasm? Bucky’s orgasm was so much more uncontrollable that it didn’t even cross his mind to pull out and cum anywhere except inside of you. He pushed so deep inside of you when he started cumming that you swear you felt the heat of it in your stomach. Even when you were both finished, he just couldn’t stop thrusting in and out of you.

“Good girl, such a good girl.” He kept whispering against your neck as he rutted into you, using his own cum mixed with your wetness as lube.

As he collapses on top of you, your hands immediately move in two different directions. One begins tangling in his hair, gently massaging his scalp, while the other goes to caress his back with the softest touch. Only one word surfaces in your mind as you listen to his heavy breathing and focus on the feel of his skin against yours.

Obsession.

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

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haetrack · 2 months

Note

continuing the nerd!haechan thoughts, i genuinely can’t get over the idea of him eating you out with his glasses on. when he gets a bit too stressed out with his nose buried in textbooks for hours on end, he comes to find you to bury his nose in your pussy instead.

he’s always so obsessed with your cunt, lost in his own world, that he doesn’t even realize the mess he’s making. all he cares about is making you feel good. he’d beg for you to cum on his face, not caring about how it would mess up his poor glasses and get them all dirty. he’d do it again and again if it meant getting to taste you.

i can’t be normal about this… please save me… i need to take a deep breath

UMMM UMMM UM yeah… yeah… literally wrote this all in one sitting it hit me so hard… nerd!haechan we need u so bad… part 2 part 3

it’s finals week.

normally, he’d head to the library, study until he felt satisfied and head back home afterwards. there would be no issues, and if there was something he didn’t know, he could figure it out in time. he’s always ready for his finals, notes written up perfectly, powerpoints all read through, nothing being able to stop him.

except this time, haechan can’t stop thinking about you.

he’s trying to read an article about… something for one of his classes, but nothing is making sense to him. all the words are blurring together, none of it sticking to his mind. all his thoughts trace back to you, thinking about how you rode him the other day. the sweet smile on your face when he begged to let you use him.

he can feel his cock stir in his sweats, any thought of studying now replaced with you. he wants you to use him like a toy, putting all his stress into you. he wants to taste you on his tongue, wants to feel you tug at his hair as you call him your good boy. he quickly takes his phone out of his pocket, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

haechan: are you at home right now?

you: yeah, why?

he doesn’t respond after that, quickly packing his things as he heads to your apartment.

when you answer the door, you’re met with haechan. he’s blushing, hands balled into fists at his sides as he dazedly stares at you. you cock your head to the side, “hey, are you alright?”

“you don’t know how bad i need you right now.” his hands cup your face, pulling you into a kiss. you laugh a bit, pulling him inside as you lock the door behind him. he desperately kisses you, the shy haechan from before no longer present. he mumbles against your lips, “couldn’t stop thinking about eating you out. almost got hard while studying all because of you.”

he whimpers when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. his hands are all over you, groping your flesh as he tries to pull you even closer. you hum, “slow down, baby. let’s head to the bedroom, yeah? let you eat me out?”

he’s tugging you to your own bedroom, slamming the door shut as he presses you against the wall. he’s all whines and whimpers when he pulls off your clothes, leaving you bare once he settles you on the bed. his pupils are dilated when he looks at you, drool practically spilling out of his mouth at the thought of you.

you’ve only let him do this once before, and there’s nothing he’d rather be doing than burying his face into your heat. he’s still fully clothed when he joins you on the bed, laying on his stomach as he parts your thighs. he sees how you’re dripping, wanting this just as much as he does. he licks his lips before placing kisses along your inner thighs.

you shiver at the feeling of his lips so close to where you need him. you warn, “don’t try teasing me, haechan.”

“wouldn’t- wouldn’t ever try doing that to you.”

he hovers over you, your scent all around him, flooding all of his senses. he licks a strip up your cunt before he sucks at your entrance, licking up all your slick. he can taste you on your tongue, nothing in the world compares to the sweet taste of your slick. he closes his eyes, sucking harshly at your clit.

you whine out his name as your hands move to thread through his hair, pulling him closer. you can feel the frames of his glasses press into your thighs, laughing internally with how he never takes them off. he says it's so he can see you better, and you can’t really argue with that. you hear the lewd sounds of him licking and slurping your cunt, not caring about how messy he's being.

he can’t say he didn’t expect you to tug at his hair, but it always feels so good when you do. you’re using him to get off, pulling him around to where you want him. he’s your personal toy, only made to pleasure you. he can’t help how his hips grind into the mattress, the thought of it all being too much for him to handle.

he manages to open his eyes when he hears more whines slip out of your mouth. he can’t really see, fog and your own slick coating his glasses as he tries to look at you. he moans out, burying his face deeper into your pussy. he can feel his tip leaking with precum, surely staining the front of his pants in an embarrassing way. he can hear your laugh now, calling him your sweet loser.

you call out to him, hands harshly gripping against the strands of his hair as his tongue reaches deep inside you, his nose pressing against your clit. you watch his hips rut into your bed, and it all sends shivers down your spine. “b-baby, you’re gonna make me cum. keep going and i’ll cum all over your face.”

“wan’ it, want it so bad. need you to cum, need to know how good i’m doing.”

you roll your hips into him, cumming all over his tongue as he helps ride you through your orgasm. his hips roll into your bed, his tip spurting cum into his sweats at the sight of you fucked out. he laps at your entrance, licking up the sweet taste of your cum. you release your grip on his hair, relaxing at his touch.

you realize his tongue doesn’t stop, mouth sloppily sucking on your clit as your thighs try to close around his head. he doesn’t try to move them, instead, looks up at you over his messy glasses, smeared with your cum. there’s no teasing in his eyes, only desperation that keeps on building. you let out a moan of his name, his hips continuing to fuck into your bed.

you try to weakly push his head away, but he swats away your hands. his hands reach to grab you by your waist, keeping you in place as he pulls you even closer. “baby, please, you’re gonna- fuck, you feel so good- gonna make me cum again!”

he whimpers against your folds, ears ringing as he tries to stop himself from cumming too fast again. “j-just wanna,” he mumbles into you, “wanna feel you cum, wanna taste you, wanna make you feel good. want you to use me as much as you want!”

how could you say no to him?

#asks #hrts4doie #reqs :3 #haechan smut #haechan hard hours #nct smut #nct hard hours #haechan x reader #sub haechan

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buckys-lover · 10 months

Text

Dile (Cuéntale)

miguel o’hara x spiderwoman!reader

song inspo: dile by don omar + playlist

main masterlist // nsfw masterlist

word count: 4.5k

summary: Miguel gets jealous of your relationship with Peter. He’s on a mission to prove he’s better.

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, porn without much plot (I need him carnally), jealous/possessive miguel, biting kink (pretend his bites aren’t paralyzing y’all), miguel being a munch!, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), overstimulation? (he makes you cum a lot), creampie/breeding kink, dirty talk, operating under the assumption they’re both nude under their suits, Spanish (I’ll put translations in a reblog), mutual pining/a confession!?, way too many italics bc I need to emphasize everything.

A/N: this was just supposed to be a short concept piece…and it ended up taking me three weeks to write bc I just kept adding more. anyways, felt weird to write miguel speaking spanish if the reader doesn’t understand so this is technically latina!reader // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

Translation Reblog

You’re coming back from a successful mission with Peter (Spiderman 9411). You were able to stop and capture an anomaly, a variation of Doc Ock, and send them back to their original universe. Upon your return, you make your way to HQ to brief Miguel on what happened. Everything was going fine. You and Peter were laughing and joking around together while giving report, just having a good time.

Meanwhile, Miguel was watching you both intently, narrowing in on the way that Peter casually touches you, the way he looks at you, the smile that reaches his eyes when he’s around you. Miguel was always suspicious that there was something going on between you two. A week ago, his suspicion was confirmed when Lyla mentioned that you two slept together (even though you made her promise not to tell anyone). And he couldn’t stand it.

He keeps his tone clipped and cold. Simply saying you did a good job before dismissing you. You and Peter turn to leave, but Miguel speaks up, telling you to stay behind. You don’t think much of it; after all, you were one of the few people Miguel was close to. Maybe he just wanted to discuss something unrelated. You tell Peter to head out and you’ll catch up with him later. The doors shut behind him, and you can hear them lock. The room is silent except for the occasional beeps and replays of other missions on the screens. Miguel doesn’t say a word as he steps off the platform and walks toward you. Tension lingers in the air as you face each other.

He's the first to break the silence, “What’s going on with you and Peter?”

You’re a bit taken aback, confused about where this was coming from, “What are you talking about? We’re just friends.”

He shakes his head in frustration, “No me mientas cariño; I’m not blind!”

“Miguel, no sé de que estás hablando.” But you do know. And it’s becoming evident that Lyla snitched on you.

“Don’t play dumb.” His voice hardens, and he comes closer, “Answer me.”

You’re starting to get fed up with his attitude. What you and Peter do is none of his business, and you place a hand on his chest to try and push him away, but he’s firm in place.

He grabs your wrist and leans down, a harsh whisper in your ear, “Tell me, what does he have that I don’t?”

It hits you then, and you pull back, narrowing your eyes at him, “Estás celoso?” You scoff in disbelief when you finally take notice of his jealousy. You honestly want to laugh, but the look on Miguel’s face lets you know that’d be a bad idea.

“You didn’t answer me.” He huffs.

You decided then to stoke the flames, “Let’s find out.” Maybe he’d finally cut through the tension and get to what you know you’ve both been craving.

Your heart races as the tension between you reaches its peak. With a daring glance, you take a step closer to Miguel, bodies almost touching. Your eyes lock, and the air crackles with anticipation.

You take in the way his pupils dilate at your words as he leans in, your lips mere millimeters apart, teasingly close. “Tell me you want this as much as I do.” He murmured, voice heavy with need.

His admission sends shivers down your spine. Your breath hitches and your heart hammers against your chest. You've wanted this for a long time, and nothing's stopping you now. You wrap your arms around his neck and close the remaining distance between your lips. Mouths colliding in a passionate and urgent kiss, all your pent-up desires finally unleashed.

Your bodies mold together as your tongues intertwine, exploring and tasting each other with a fervor born of longing. Miguel's hands find their way to your waist, pulling you even closer while your fingers weave through his hair, tugging gently.

Breaking the kiss, your heavy breaths mingle in the air, eyes locked with an intensity that speaks volumes.

"Don't hold back, Miguel. Enseñame. Show me you're better." Your thighs clench when you hear his growl in response.

Your lips soon meet again in a hungry, passionate kiss, igniting a fire that has been smoldering for far too long. As your bodies press against each other, your hands begin to explore, tracing the contours of each other's forms. Miguel's touch is possessive, his fingertips leaving a trail of tingling sensations on your skin.

You’re backed up against the console as Miguel's lips descend upon your neck, trailing a path of fiery kisses along your skin. He revels in the soft gasps that escape your lips.

He lifts you and lays you down; you can feel the coldness of the metal through your suit. His lips are still on your neck, and you can feel the sharp point of his fangs against your delicate skin. Without warning, he bit you, drawing blood. You gasped at the sensation, feeling his tongue soothe over the bite marks that were already beginning to heal.

“Your biting kink is showing.” You tease, still enjoying the residual sting of it.

“I don’t have a-- shut up.” He growled the words into your neck before biting you again. It was obvious that it was something he enjoyed. A way to mark you up and make it clear who you belong to now.

“Te ves tan hermosa así.” He whispers as he pulls away, eyes glued on your neck, giving a hum of satisfaction over the way you look after he’s staked his claim on you.

You watch him as he brings his hand to your collarbone, tracing the marks gently with his claws before he hooks it under the neck of your suit. You hear it first. The sound of the threads tearing before the feel of cool air.

He ripped your suit. He ripped your fucking spider suit. “Miguel!” The shock evident in your voice as he’s practically torn the suit off your body. He meets your gaze, showing no signs of remorse for what he just did. “No te preocupes preciosa. I’ll make you a new one, a better one.”

You huff at his words; you really liked that suit. But your protest quickly dies down the moment you feel his lips on your bare chest. He’s taking his time with you, marking you up as much as he possibly can. Lips latching onto your nipple, tongue swirling around and sucking while his hand gives attention to your other breast. Your back is arching, trying to get as close to his mouth as possible, reveling in the feeling of him sucking and nibbling your sensitive skin.

“Love these fucking tits.” He whispers against your skin as he holds them in his hand, loving the softness of them and how you react. You need him desperately as his kisses and bites travel further down your body. You’re squirming under his touch, and once his lips meet the apex of your thighs, you buck your hips up into him. Your fingers make their way into his hair, tugging him so he places that sinful mouth where you need him most.

“Por favor Miguel,” You can barely think straight with the way he’s looking at you. “Necesito…” Your words trail off. He looks at you, a teasing glimmer in his eyes, “Qué necesitas?”

You groan in frustration, tugging his hair again to show him what you mean. He just shakes his head at you, not willing to budge until he hears you beg for him. He’s waiting. Patiently. You know Miguel, and he’d wait forever just to prove a point.

You finally give in, “Miguel, please, need you so bad.” He tilts his head, still waiting expectantly; he needs to hear more. He needs to hear how desperate you are for him.

“Ay por Dios! Miguel, I can’t wait any longer. Please- need you…need your mouth. Anything!” You’re whining at this point, and can’t believe how pathetic you sound. But it was enough. That’s what he needed to hear before finally giving you what you craved.

He has your thighs tight in his grip, spread apart in front of him. You meet his hungry stare as his lips latch onto your pussy, sucking at your clit. Your hips buck up, grinding onto his face as a needy moan escapes your lips. He groans, enjoying the pressure, tongue lapping up your juices.

“Tastes so good, so fucking sweet~ could eat you for days…and so wet; todo para mi, amor?” He’s on a high, whining the words into you. Craving you and the way you feel with his mouth on you, trying to keep you close as possible.

Your thighs begin to tremble, and you try your best not to crush his face. He takes notice and shakes his head. His grip tightens and presses you closer to him as if he wanted to confine himself in the slice of heaven you carry between your legs. And, God, it feels good. He’s watching you, observing the way you toss your head back in pleasure, how your free hand tries grasping at anything to ground you, the way your body shivers at his touch; he’s learning your every movement, committing your body to memory.

"Need you, such a good fucking pussy- so good…eres mía, solo mía.” The sounds he makes are obscene and he’s rambling, showering you in praise while drunk on the taste of you.

You’re squirming against him, not much movement granted as large hands are holding you down, eating you like a man starved. As if he’s on death row and you’re his last meal, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Miguel~” Your voice strained, barely able to speak and tell him that you’re close, so embarrassingly close.

“C’mon, be a good girl ‘n cum for me.” He encourages, tongue flicking at your clit to bring you closer to the edge. You gasped as you felt Miguel running a finger up and down your slit, teasing you before working their way inside your weeping cunt, curling up and hitting that spot inside that has you seeing stars. Your grip is still tight in his hair, thighs quivering as your orgasm washed over you, the sensation rippling throughout your whole body.

You’re vaguely aware of Miguel pulling away as you’re coming down from your high, blissed out and hazy. It felt like you ascended to the heavens. In your daze, you look at him, noting the arrogant smirk on his face and his fingers glistening in the dim light, covered with your juices. He holds your gaze as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean, moaning contently at the taste of you.

“I’m guessing Peter could never make you feel this way, huh?” He’s right, and he knows it. But you couldn’t help but want to push his buttons.

You hum in response, “Mm, he was pretty good with his tongue too.” Teasing, waiting for him to react. And you see it; the way his body language changes in an instant at your insinuation.

He sneers at you, baring his fangs and gripping your chin to look him in his eyes, glowing red with anger, “You better watch your fucking mouth, sweetheart.”

“Or what? Qué vas a hacer Miguelito?”

Miguel narrows his eyes at the provocation, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. “Ten cuidado, preciosa,” He hisses through gritted teeth as he leans in. His grip tightens, keeping his gaze set on you. “Sigue hablando y verás.” And just like that, his attitude changes on a dime, the anger in his eyes replaced by a hungry glint, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he leans closer to you. You barely take the time to notice that his suit is disappearing as if it were a hologram or nanotech, leaving him naked. You feel his length press up against you, and your eyes widen in shock. He’s big. Already hard and aching for you and you feel his precum drip against the inside of your thigh. You can’t help but wriggle your hips, desperate to feel him closer. “Look what you do to me.” He whispers the words in your ear as he grinds against you. Your eyes take their time looking down. Taking in everything that’s him. His broad shoulders, rippling muscles, chiseled abs; it’s insane how strong he is. You shiver at the thought of what he’s capable of. Your gaze dips further, following his happy trail down just as he’s started teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, “Been waiting for this,” He groans, eyes shining with excitement, “No tienes idea querida.” "Bet it won’t compare, huh?” He asks, still painstakingly teasing you, “Bet it’ll feel so much better than all the times I’ve fucked my fist thinking of you and this pretty little pussy.” You gasp at his words, clenching around nothing, waiting in anticipation for him to finally fuck you. He laughs at your desperation. “Sabías eso, amor? Fantasized about you all the time, about you being mine. Solo mía.” He punctuates that final proclamation by finally entering you. He was taking his time, the stretch of him inching in was a euphoric mix of pain and pleasure, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. It was too much; you could begin to see him bulge through your stomach, and you shake your head, not believing that he could possibly get in deeper. “Shh, just take it.” He sighed his words, enjoying the way you feel wrapped around him. “No puedo Miguel-” You gasp as you finally feel him fully press up against you. You’re so full you can barely breathe. Instinctually you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to keep him still while you adjust to his size. He pressed his hand against your navel, pushing down slightly, feeling himself. His eyes roll back at the sensation as a groan escapes his lips, wanting desperately to live in this moment forever. "Mírate." He urges, kissing your cheek. “Mira que bien nos vemos juntos, amor.” You listen to him, looking down at where you’re joined, and you squeeze at the sight of it. You rock your hips against him, letting him know it's okay to move, and he pulls out a little before pressing back in, making you moan while he sighs contently. “Look at how well you’re taking me, like you were made for me. Only for me."

The tenderness of his words was contrasted by the roughness of his movements as he began snapping his hips against yours. “So tight,” his words coming out through a strained growl while pounding into you. “Dios! You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

“Feels so good, Miggy-” Tossing your head back as you moan out, pleasure engulfing you, your legs tightening around him, pressing your heel into his back as you tried to get him deeper. His next thrust was a little more brutal, his hips colliding with the back of your thighs.

“Así mi vida, así.” He growled, baring his fangs in a pleasureful grin. "Look at me." You look up at him immediately, moaning his name loosely at the feeling of him so deep inside you. So deep and big and full.

You can barely hold his gaze, trying desperately to resist the urge to roll your eyes back every time you feel him thrust back into you. You reach forward, nails digging into his bicep, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

“C’mon, you can take, can’t you?” He mocks you, his tone condescending, enjoying the way that he has you craving him. “Esto es lo que querías, verdad? But now look at you, can barely handle it-” His words cut off by a groan escaping his lips at the feeling of you clenching tighter around him.

He’s right, you don’t know how much more of this you can take as your legs begin to shake and you feel yourself quickly approaching orgasm again. Desperate hands gripping onto the flesh of your hip as he ruts into you. You let out a wanton moan as he slams home again, pulsating around him. “Cuéntale,” His grip on you tightens, sure to leave bruises by the time he’s done with you, “Cuéntale que soy mejor que él.” He whispers in your ear.

You’re nodding your head, babbling incoherently, not even aware of anything you’re really saying. He grins, knowing you’re close, and his ego soars at being able to get you there so soon. He groans as he feels you tighten around him; your eyes shut tight, and your body quivers from the intensity as your climax overwhelms you.

He slows down, trying to give you a moment to come down from your high in an effort to avoid overstimulating your senses. Soon, your body begins to relax as you’re grounded once again in reality. Your eyes are glossy with welled-up tears, and you offer Miguel a blissful smile.

“C’mon Miggy, thought you wanted to show me you’re better, I expected more from you-” You’re breathless as you speak, and it’s obvious to him that you’re just trying to egg him on, but he falls for it anyways. In an instant, he stopped his movements. His red eyes have never looked so menacing before and your breath caught in your throat. Without speaking, he pulled out, and you whined at the loss of contact.

He ignores your objection, opting to manhandle you, forcing you to turn around. He presses you down against the console, ass exposed to him. You put up a struggle in vain as he grabs your arms and pulls them back. You soon feel something wrap around your wrists, binding them. He webbed you. Effectively keeping you bound with something you couldn’t possibly hope to escape from. You felt him yank back on the binding, your hands resting above the small of your back. You hissed at the aching pain, but it was soon replaced by a moan of desperation when you felt the plush tip of his cock line up with your entrance. You expected him to tease you again, to make you beg for it, but Miguel was feeling merciless now. He drove into you without warning, making you take it as deep as he could possibly go. And at this new angle, you swear he was hitting your cervix. Your mouth opened in quiet ecstasy as he had his way with you. He kept your wrists behind your back in a tight hold, his other hand gripped firmly on your hip; you were sure that by the end of the day you’d have bruises on your hips in the shape of his fingertips. His hips were snapping relentlessly into yours, pistoning in and out of you so hard it was difficult to have a single coherent thought other than wanting more. Miguel’s growls and grunts were animalistic as they tore through his chest, his grip getting immensely tighter and his hips moving impossibly faster in this new position.

"That's better- fucking ruined and creaming on my cock. Who else can fuck you like this? No one, huh? Not Peter, not Ben, no one; only me.”

You’ve given in now, effectively broken, and all the brattiness you had left in you is gone, "Nadie! Nobody- just you, only you can fuck me like this." You choke out, legs trembling, pleasure coursing through you.

"That's right. You’re mine; mine to touch, to taste, to fuck- all mine." He harshly slaps your ass to emphasize his words. You squeal at the contact of his palm on the soft flesh, enjoying the sting it offers.

“Solo tuyo amor.” The words escape your lips in a breathless sigh, your mind hazy, dizzy with desire.

He’s all you can think of; your senses overwhelmed by everything that’s him. The way he’s holding on to you, the way he feels aggressively pumping inside you, the grunts and groans he makes that are music to your ears. You’re delirious, unable to remember what your life was like before being here with him. Miguel reaches forward, lightly slapping your cheek. “Open up, sweetheart.” You oblige without a second thought, letting his fingers in your mouth. “Suck.” Who knew a single word could have you clenching so tight around him? A whimper leaves your lips as you obey his command, getting his fingers slick and wet with your spit. Too soon, he removes them from your mouth, and his fingers make their way down to your aching clit, rubbing tight circles to get you even closer to the edge.

“Uno más querida, solo uno más.” He urges as he speeds up his movements. You’re grinding onto his hand, eagerly chasing your release, having lost count of how many times he has had you come undone.

This one hits you like a freight train, full speed ahead. You swear you black out for a moment, your body buzzing and pulsing with a delightful and all-engulfing pleasure. You’re strung out, not offered a break as Miguel keeps pushing into you.

“Quiero verte Miguel, porfa~” You sob your words out from the overwhelming power of your orgasm, trying to turn your head to see the man who has wrecked you so thoroughly.

Slowing down, he listens to your plea and grants your wish, “Nunca te voy a negar.” Before you know it, he’s torn the webbing off your wrists with his claws and turns you around, having you once more on your back, legs spread open, welcoming him in again.

He slips back into your weeping cunt with ease, resuming his brutal pace as he tries to reach his climax. He grips onto the soft flesh of your thigh, claws slightly digging in as you wrap your legs around him, securing his spot inside you.

"Dime que soy tuyo." He pants needily, using his body to drive you forward.

"Eres mío, Miguel-" You gasp, raking your nails down his back to prove it, marking him as yours. "Mine, mine; solo mío amor"

His cock jumps inside you, both of you closer to your release. "That's right. I’m all yours,” His eyes flickered down to the place where your bodies met. Watching your pussy take him in over and over again. “Let me give you all of me- wanna fill you up.”

You unashamedly whimpered at his words, “Please, please Miguel-” Your words are starting to slur as you begin to beg him.

"Please, what? You losin' your words, now? So drunk on my cock you can't think straight?" He slaps your pussy lightly, clit puffy and sensitive. But you can't say anything, not when he's getting rougher, faster— pounding into you with a new force and determination. Rubbing tight circles on your bundles of nerves that have been exploited for the sake of your pleasure. You can feel that familiar feeling building, that knot getting tighter at the base of your stomach.

You’re almost in disbelief that you got there so quick, but with Miguel, it was like he knew your body inside and out, understanding exactly what you needed and giving you so much more.

He’ll never get over it. The way you tighten and pulse around him, the way your cunt squeezes him in a vice grip, making it harder for him to hold off his own release. The way your eyes roll back and the heavenly sounds that leave your mouth. He wants to make you feel this good for the rest of your lives. "Ay Dios— You're so pretty when you cum all over my cock." And he's still going, still pumping into your sensitive cunt with the same force. Your senses are so overwhelmed; it's like you can feel every single one of your nerve endings on fire. "Fuck, gonna fill you up- that's what you want, right? Wanna feel full of my cum? Want me to breed you?" You're nodding desperately as you start to babble nonsense that you want him, need him, everything he wants to give you, you'll take. He leans down, burying his face in your neck as his groans reverberate against your skin. You feel him twitch inside you as he pushes in deeper, emptying himself inside you, letting you milk him for all he's worth, trying his best to not let a single drop go to waste.

He pulls back, arms braced on both sides of your head, caging you in. He meets your gaze, the red of his eyes barely visible anymore, hooded and glazed over from the feeling of you still squeezing him tight, keeping him locked in. When the haze subsides, his shoulders relax a bit, drawing closer to you. Miguel’s barely audible when he finally speaks again, but you hear his words anyways.

“Aunque tu vuelvas con él, dame otra noche.” There’s a hint of pain in his eyes, unsure of whether any of this actually meant anything to you.

Your heart aches at the allusion that you’d want anyone other than him, and you bring your hand up to his face, gently cupping his cheek, “Miguel, tú sabes que no voy a volver con él, soy tuya, recuerdas? Only yours.”

Relief washes over him as one of his rare smiles graces his face at your words, “Te quiero como a ninguna.” He murmurs as he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. He pulls away, the start of another sentence on the tip of his tongue, but he’s soon interrupted.

With a flicker of yellow light, Lyla appears beside Miguel. “Took you two long enough! Was wondering when you’d finally admit your so very obvious feelings for each other.” She rolled her eyes behind her pink, heart-shaped sunglasses. “You’re welcome, by the way, this wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t snitch about you smooshing booties with Peter.” She adds, beside you now, close to your ear as if trying to whisper. “Lyla!” You swat your hand at her, embarrassed by the thought that she was aware of everything that just happened and mentioning the reason why this all transpired in the first place.

“Alright, alright,” She throws her hands up in mock surrender, “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, but you owe me for this!” With those final words, she disappears.

Your gaze meets Miguel’s, who just shakes his head in disbelief, rolling his eyes at the fact that Lyla chose such a tender moment to intrude on. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out, giggling at the absurdity of it, and soon enough, he joins in on the joy you found in the moment.

~~~

Tagging some of my lovely mutuals and ppl who asked to be on my taglist/might be interested <3

@cozykali // @joaquinwhorres // @sunflowersteves // @fanboygarcia // @cowb00t // @mothdruid // @openforjean // @bobfloyds // @buckyytorres // @bvckysmoon // @inklore // @rhettabbotts // @wint3r-h3art // @zstrn // @golden-barnes // @ofstarsandvibranium // @sunmoonandeddie // @bubblebuckys // @ladyelissarose // @thinktankgoldfish // @harmonia-dread // @living-in-a-daydream97 // @eddiesslutwhore // @dilfsfordinner // @tarjapearce // @manyourlookingood // @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love // @mraisedto3 //

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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 7 months

Text

Secret Lovers

Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. a/n:this was originally started because of a snippet @thebeesatemyknees had written, thank you so much for letting me turn this into a full fic! I hope I was able to do it proper justice warnings:none, just tons of fluff Part 2

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. Johnny had badgered him from day one if he had a partner, going on and on about how much he loved his girlfriend. SImon wasn’t going to tell him anything, no matter what he’d keep his lips sealed.

Kyle was the next one to ask, though it was more in passing rather than a true and genuine question when he cornered the older man. They had been discussing mission details when the topic arose, did he have a next of kin? And if so, who would be the one to inform them if Ghost were to be KIA’d? He never asked Simon after that day, instead going on to different topics whether they had to do with the mission or what they wanted to eat. Kyle treated him like a friend, it was nice.

And John, well he knew all about Simon’s personal and very private life.

~~~

You were a new addition to the team, a medic that could stitch up a wound within a minute and get you back on the field within five. They were thankful to have you come around with them, helping stitch up a wound on Johnny’s arm, or cleaning up a gash on Kyle’s head. The only person who seemed to be a little wary around you was Simon, which both Johnny and Kyle felt odd. You fit in their group like the puzzle piece that was missing, and yet Simon acted as if he wanted nothing to do with you. Surely he’d warm up to you a little more, they were all sure of it.

“Thank you all for meeting me on such short notice. We’ve got word that an arms dealer is hosting a gala and we need to get more intel before we can swoop in.” Kate was a woman who took no shit and left no prisoners, she wasn’t going to risk this.

“Who do we want to send?” John was nervous, his men were trained for this, but putting them into a situation where they’d have to become someone else entirely? Nerve wracking.

“I was discussing it with Shepherd last night, and we’ve decided that Simon and Y/N will be going on this mission while the rest of you stake out the building.” All eyes suddenly shifted to Simon who looked calm as ever.

He’d forgone the mask for this mission briefing, knowing that only his teammates and Kate would be in the room with him. Knowing that you were going to be there made things a little more tense, could he handle something that dire?

“If you think that’s what’s best, I fully support the decision.” John wasn’t going to argue, Simon could be suave and charm the pants off of anyone if needed.

“Thank you, we’ll be heading out tomorrow and meeting up at the hotel. Promise me you’ll behave so no one suspects you, please.” Kate knew how much of a troublemaker that Johnny and Kyle could be, given the opportunity of course.

“I’ll make sure of it myself if need be, don’t you worry.” John smiled up at her, leaving Kate to wonder how much trouble there would be.

They would need to debrief you on the plane ride over, given that you weren’t even in the room with everyone. Having something like that just dumped on you with no time to prepare was the worst, how could they manage? Simon would just have John give you the rundown so he could worry about more important things, like how he’d have to act like the two of you were so desperately in love.

You would have an entire day to get comfortable in the hotel room, there would be a few people lingering so you’d get used to being stared at. Simon knew they’d mainly be staring at you, you were downright gorgeous. And with the clothes that had been picked out? A deep navy blue tux, with a pitch black button up and black silk tie. It perfectly matched the dress they’d picked out for you, a deep V down the front that left just enough to the imagination. The color matched his tux almost identically, the only difference was your dress was silk.

“They’ve packed everything for you to do your own hair and makeup, we don’t want you to stand out too much, better to blend in.” It was the smartest idea, if you or Simon were to attract too much attention things would end badly.

“Yeah, Kate told me as much as she could, I made sure to pack my best heels.” You were nervous, it’d been so long since you’d been able to go out to something fancy.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” John knew you were smart and quick witted, but something about this mission unnerved him.

“I’m positive, Simon and I will get the intel and get out before anyone even notices we’re missing.” You were confident everything would go smoothly, Simon could be silent if needed.

John nodded at you, settling back into his seat as the plan began to descend down onto the tarmac below. Simon was staring at you from across the way, palms sweating slightly as the time drew closer to getting inside the hotel. Johnny was going to see how nervous he was and make comments, he was sure of it. The sound of tires squealing brought everyone’s attention to high alert. It was time to grab your things and head to the cars, you were driving over with Simon, leaving the other three to their own car.

It was mainly to not raise any suspicion, if you were seen driving with any man that wasn’t your husband word would spread before you managed to make it to the party. You were absentmindedly playing with your ring, twirling the obnoxiously large diamond with your other fingers. It was a habit you picked up whenever you tended to wear jewelry, though it was much better than picking at your cuticles.

“You feeling alright hun?” Simon glanced over at you, though his own nerves were shot, he wanted you to feel comfortable.

“A little nervous, but that’s to be expected considering the circumstances.” You kept twirling the ring, glancing between Simon and the road ahead of you.

Simon took a quick breath and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together without skipping a beat or taking his eyes off the road. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, you had been waiting to see how long it took before he finally felt comfortable around you. You’d need to practice around everyone else if you were going to look natural around a bunch of strangers. Everything was going to be just fine, you were sure of it.

John had set up everything in the hotel room, along with hanging up your dress and Simon’s tux to help steam out any wrinkles if needed. So far there was nothing to worry about, save for Soap acting like a little shit and pranking Simon and Kyle for the most part. You’d all settled in, changing into comfortable clothes and ordering food so that you wouldn’t have to leave. Simon was cleaning up the kitchen so he could sit down and enjoy dinner with you.

“Do you need any help?” You walked over to him, pressing your hand against his lower back.

“Nah, just need to finish cleaning this plate and we can eat.” Simon smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you say.” You patted his back gently, heading over to the small kitchen table.

Johnny raised a brow at how you and Simon seemed to naturally work with one another, he didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Kyle on the other hand was ignoring him entirely, digging into his own meal and scrolling through his phone. Simon had finally finished, grabbing his plate of food and heading over to sit with you. He could faintly hear that you were both discussing the mission and going over your alias’ one last time.

“Simon, you need to wear your ring.” You’d gotten on his case the entire day, he kept taking it off complaining that it felt weird to wear it.

“I’ll wear it during the mission tomorrow.” Simon brough the fork to his mouth, focusing on his plate rather than your raised brow.

“You say that now, but when we end up leaving you’re going to forget it and then we’re going to have to drive all the way back because you won’t wear your ring.” You had put yours on right away, mainly because you were forgetful and didn’t want to end up forgetting it.

“Are you really going to make me wear the ring all night?” Simon’s expression would normally terrify a recruit, but you’d gotten used to it.

“If I want to make sure you have your ring on? Yes, I’m going to make you wear your ring until we get back on that plane and go back home.” You’d glue it on if need be, but Simon knew better than to disobey orders.

John chuckled to himself watching the two of you, it was a dynamic he hadn’t seen in quite a while and it was pretty funny to witness. Johnny on the other hand was now even more flabbergasted at the way you worked together. Why did you seem so comfortable arguing with a man who’d killed for less? This was something sinister and it unnerved him to no end, he’d get to the bottom of this.

You’d offered to clean up everyone’s dinner dishes, carefully cleaning any knives before laying them on a towel to be dried by Simon. He walked over to where you were, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull your bodies flush together. Johnny’s jaw dropped open as he slapped Kyle’s arm to get his attention. The playful bickering was one thing, but watching Simon the Ghost Riley be so affectionate?

“Damn, he’s a good actor.” Kyle watched the way you and Simon began to sway gently, giggling at something he’d whispered into your ear.

“Scarily good, didn’t think he had it in ‘em.” Johnny shook his head, turning back towards the computer in front of him.

It wasn’t until the sound of someone kissing caught their attention once more. Simon had dipped you, lips pressed against yours as his arms wrapped around your waist. Johnny’s jaw dropped wide open, well if you weren’t together already that was surely going to change. You pressed your hands against Simon’s chest, laughing happily as you stared up at him.

“Cap, do ya think Lt and the medic are gonna get together after all this?” Johnny had high hopes, no one gets kissed the way Simon kissed you and simply part ways.

“What’re you talking about?” John barely lifted his gaze from the screen, typing up the pre mission notes to help catch up on them before.

“Simon’s practically tonguing the medic! He’s gonna woo her.” He waggled his brows at the older man, cackling when John rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah that’s not gonna happen.” John’s attention focused back on the task at hand.

Johnny’s laughing abruptly halted, what the hell had he meant that Simon wasn’t going to woo the medic, it was obvious! Clearly John had no idea what he was talking about, Johnny could see the little twinkle in your eye from across the room.

“Gaz, am I wrong or do ye think Ghost and medic are gonna end up together?” He was determined to get someone to agree with him.

“Oh, if they don’t I’m asking for her number for him.” Kyle may have had a slight crush on you, not that he’d ever admit it.

John sat upright in his chair, focusing on Johnny and Kyle who thought they were being more subtle than they actually were.

“Have you ever looked at their name tag by chance?” John wanted to see if the other two would finally catch on.

Both Johnny and Kyle shook their heads, neither of them had a reason to over analyze your name tag when they had injuries to be taken care of. He sighed softly to himself before glancing over to you and Simon. You were laughing at some bad joke Simon had whispered to you, a bright smile on his face.

“Her last name is Riley.” John watched as realization dawned on their faces.

You’d been married this entire time and no one, besides Price, was none the wiser. How the hell had you managed to keep it hidden from everyone? Then again Simon wasn’t the most overly friendly or affectionate when it came to anyone. You were his wife though, that was different! Surely you could bring out a different side of him, something that no one usually got to…of course.

“Would’ve been nice to know at least.” Johnny shrugged off his disappointment, this was a big thing to keep hidden away.

“It wasn’t my place to tell, just remember that.” John wanted to respect your privacy, it was the least he could do considering your line of work.

Johnny and Kyle understood why Price hadn’t admitted to questions about your relationship, but knowing the truth? It felt good. They watched the way you and Simon danced to the music playing from your phone. Simon’s arms were wrapped around your waist, pressing kisses all over your face as you tried to squirm away. It was a side of their teammate they’d never thought to see, and no one outside of this hotel room would ever get to see it.

At least, not until after the mission of course.

tagging: @gaylemonshark

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #simon riley fluff #simon riley fic #simon riley fanfic #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell

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kissatoru · 7 months

Text

★ ₊˚ PUNISHMENT

content. bratty sub!satoru, afab!satoru, amab!reader, dom!reader, dom/sub dynamics, restraints, pussyjob, that good old praise-degradation combo, thigh-fucking, pet names (doll, darling, sweetheart), fingering, squirting, oral (f! receiving), overstimuation

wc. 2.4k

satoru loves punishments.

overstimulation, edging, spanking... they all wear the same thin veil of the word ‘punishment’ but to satoru they are anything but. he knows that he shouldn’t be trying to get punished on purpose, but who can blame him when your punishments are always so sweet? you always give him what he wants in the end, which is what you both want, really. that’s why he’s never worried when you threaten to ‘teach him a lesson’ or other such things, because the truth is they never taught him anything except that he loves punishments.

well, until now, that is.

because now he’s on his back, wrists secured to the headboard by handcuffs and legs bent all the way up his torso. his head thrashes in different directions, unable to decide whether to look down at the cock sliding between his folds, hoping that he might be able to will it inside of him with his quivering lip and puppy dog eyes or sheer force of will, or squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the sight of you being so close yet so purposely far from where you wants you.

“ohh my god, please,” satoru whines, yanking on the cuffs and trying to move his hips up. “please, just– fuck, just put it in!”

you scoff and dig your nails into the pale flesh of his thighs. “don’t forget what got you here in the first place, slut,” you snarl. “you’re only getting as much as i want you to get and nothing more.”

satoru flops his head back, milky white hair sticking in sweat-slick swirls on his forehead. “i know, i’m sorry! i really am, okay?” he mumbles, kneading his pink lips together to fight back a moan, or maybe a sob. “i promise i won’t do it again, just–” a sharp inhale, followed by a soft keen. “just please put it in. i need it... so bad.”

“you should have thought about that before letting that fan flirt with you,” you say, almost laughing. “honestly, you’re so fucking shameless sometimes, ‘toru. you think i don’t know you do that shit on purpose? you really think i believe you when you say you won’t do it again?”

he smirks, as if your questions are a challenge, and opens his mouth to answer — he really doesn’t know when to quit, you think, or maybe he does, and he just enjoys pushing you that bit further anyway — but you let go of one of his legs and seal his lips shut behind your palm before he can speak.

“i know you don’t. i know you just think i’ll play along with your little games as long as you keep giving me the same boring apology and a few pretty crocodile tears.” you lean in close to him, at the same time, pushing your hips forward and grazing satoru’s clit, making him moan into your hand. “but i’m not in the mood to play anymore, satoru.” you watch as his expression morphs from dazed to alert, how it falters and his eyes tremble like ripples through water at your dark tone. “i want to make you mean your promises and sorry’s,” you say quietly, your hand sliding down his jaw to rest around his neck as a warning, “i want to give you something to really cry about.”

and then you’re shutting the gap between you with a hard kiss, full of tongue and desperation, so passionate and addictive that it’s nothing short of evil how you break it in mere seconds, leaving behind a breathless, pouty satoru. you just smile at him and drive your hips slowly forward, the movement smooth and easy with satoru’s slick.

you set a pace that’s just enough to tilt him in the general direction of pleasure, but never quite bring him there. the head of your cock bumps against the underside of satoru’s clit on almost every thrust and all he can do is cry out, his back arching weakly and his arms pulling taut in the air against the handcuffs that bind him, at the fleeting spark of euphoria that zaps through him. it’s good yet not nearly enough to get him any closer to cumming, and bucking his hips up in search of that spark is not only useless, but surely pathetic, if the way your cruel gaze glints is any indication.

his thighs can only twitch in your grasp like a scared animal; inward, outward, like they can’t decide whether they want to close or spread wider for you. you don’t really give him a choice though; you just bend both of those long legs of his further back, so he’s gently angled toward the ceiling, and each tantalising slide of your cock through his rosy, wet lips causes the head to catch against his entrance. a few times, it even nudges inside for a single blissful second, and satoru chokes, but never manages to let out anything more before that second is over and that brief feeling of his walls stretching around you vanishes, like a too-good-to-be-true mirage in a neverending desert.

satoru’s mind and body go numb with the endlessness of it all. he begs and wails for a while, but those moments of fruitless pleading have long passed. now, he is all quiet pants and throaty moans that grow louder with every small wave of flickering ecstasy. damp stains paint the pillows a darker shade on either side of satoru’s face, where he’s been tucking away his drool and tear-soaked face. he feels like a toy, an object for your pleasure, and he’d love it if it wasn’t for the fact that he isn’t getting anything from it.

suddenly, you grab his knees and hoist them over your shoulder, which abruptly snaps your pliant boyfriend out of his trance. his head turns to look at you, the haze clearing up, now replaced with hope and an eager desire twinkling in his owlish blue eyes.

“don’t get too excited now, sweetheart,” you say, smirking and patting the side of his ass. “squeeze your thighs together, alright? nice and tight.”

and despite everything, despite all you’ve put him through already, satoru still manages to find the courage, the audacity to grin right then, toothy and daring and insufferable. “and if i do, will you finally put that cock to some use and fuck–”

you pinch his clit and immediately, his words melt into nonsense and his thighs clamp shut around your hand.

“there you go.” you hum and push your cock through a small gap between his full thighs, which is easy enough with how drenched both you and him are. “good boy. keep them together f’me, just like that, that’s perfect.”

satoru lets out a breathy whimper as you start to fuck his thighs. he grows delirious with every thrust, the way your length rubs across his swollen clit ever so slightly. he’s so pent up at this point that it might be enough to make him cum, he thinks, but as you keep going, increasing your pace and the grip around his legs, he only ever gets as far as halfway. he’s wet and hot and shaking but by the time you’re cumming, satoru is closer to tears than he is to an orgasm.

your hands tighten around satoru’s legs for a moment, as your high seizes your body and the last of your cum sputters across his belly, before finally loosening and letting go. his legs drop and fall open, giving you a perfect view of satoru’s messy pussy and the little puddle on the sheets under it. beneath your heavy gaze, it seems to pulse and blush, and satoru’s legs attempt to shut and hide it, but with a single push they’re falling back down and staying there, likely too weak to try again. it almost makes you hard again.

“should’ve been inside,” satoru grumbles.

you roll your eyes. “could have, ‘toru. not should, could,” you correct. “i could have fucked you and came inside, had you not been such a fucking brat.” you emphasise your words with a light, playful flick to his inner thigh.

satoru ignores you and pouts, not meeting your eyes. “you’re mean,” he says under his breath, but the blush spilling from his cheeks to his neck says that he might not be complaining.

you chuckle and lean over him, running your hands up his thighs. “only when you’re bad, darling,” you whisper, trailing kisses up his ribs and nuzzling the soft skin. for a moment, you don’t say anything else. just lay there, listening to satoru’s still rabbit-fast heartbeat.

“though i suppose,” you say, one hand sliding up to his chest, “you’ve been quite good at taking your punishment...”

electricity runs down to satoru’s core and his breath catches in his throat. he doesn’t dare to say anything, in case you change your mind.

you sit up, and your eyes are on him as you drag your fingers through the ropes of cum painted on his abdomen, collecting it and leaving satoru’s muscles trembling in suspense. he watches you pull away your fingers while your other hand tugs on his folds. the cool air on his warm cunt makes it twitch. you languidly wipe your cum on it and spread it, down to his hole. the movement and its implications are enough to have satoru’s breathing stutter and his legs jump.

his head tosses back when you finally slip a finger inside him. you start pumping quickly after and he moans in time with your steady pace. a second digit soon joins the first, and satoru begins to aid your motions with his own, rolling his hips down, gasping, desperate, frantic.

“slow down, baby,” you coo, but satoru doesn’t listen, too lost in the throes of his pleasure, and only bucks his hips more violently. your other hand grabs and presses it into the mattress, but when that doesn’t stop him, you pull your fingers out entirely.

“nooo, no, no,” satoru cries. “i was close, please, hurry! put them back in, please–”

“just because i’m being nice, doesn’t mean you can ignore me,” you interrupt. “it would be a shame if after all this, you didn’t get to cum, don’t you think, ‘toru?”

the realisation seems to materialise in his eyes and he rushes to nod his head.

you hum. “then be good and listen.” and with that, your fingers are sliding back into him. he keens when you move them, trembling from head to toe with the effort of staying still. it’s slow, at first, but increasing in pace. it doesn’t take long at all for satoru to return to where he was, that teetering edge, the one weakness, the one thing that can break the strongest sorcerer in the world.

his pale skin and even paler hair both shimmer with sweat like moonlight while his feathery white lashes sit on his flushed cheeks like freshly fallen snow. lips the same shade as his cheeks part around melodic notes that flow as if in an endless song.

“so pretty,” you whisper in awe, but satoru doesn’t process the praise, too focused on wanting to cum.

“i’m close, i’m close! please, don’t stop, please!” he begs, his voice all high and strained. he’s always been loud in bed, but he’s most vocal in moments like this one, where he’s finally given what he’s been starved of and wanting since the beginning.

you smile and curl your fingers, bullying that tender spot inside him with short, harsh rubs, in rapid succession of every pump. the cuffs jingle and clink. your arched fingertips squelch in his pussy while your thumb massages his clit. one, two, a few more harsh circles later and he’s squirting all over your hand. his body tenses like a bow string and shakes with the force of his orgasm. a few last spurts of fluid gush out his pussy before he finally collapses on the bed, panting and boneless.

while he floats down from his high, you keep yourself occupied with his pussy, sliding your drenched fingers in and out of his abused hole and watching how it clenches around the digits, like it’s still hungry for more.

the heel of satoru’s foot finds your chest, digging into it, albeit not very strongly. “ngh, st– stop... s’too much,” he mumbles.

“yeah but you like it when it’s too much, don’t you?” you tease, pressing down on that puffy bump inside him and making his weak leg spasm in the air for a moment before falling on top of your shoulder.

a sinister idea flares up in your mind.

you raise him up by his knees and throw his legs over your shoulders, his body almost vertical.

satoru blinks and frowns at you sluggishly. “what are you–”

he gasps, so suddenly that you’d think he had the wind knocked out of him — because your lips are latching onto him and your tongue is lapping up all of his and what’s left of your juices. his ankles lock around the back of your head and his moans wobble like they can barely make it out of his chest in one piece.

“ahh, fuck, wait, wait– please, it’s– ahh, stop, stop, i can’t–”

when you don’t hear the word, the one that would actually stop all this, should he really want it, you continue to eat him out like a man starved. you weave your tongue through his folds, over his throbbing clit, dipping into his still-oozing hole. satoru ruts against your mouth as best he can in this position, completely betraying his own pleas. he doesn’t even realise he’s crying from the pleasure-pain until your voice is vibrating through him — a slurred, “eyes on me, doll,” — and all he sees when he opens his eyes is a wavering blur and a silhouette that sharpens and reveals more of your features the more he blinks.

he cums almost instantly after your dark gaze comes into focus, slightly less violently than before, but still enough that he goes limp and completely motionless, save for the involuntary spasms that pass through him every so often. you set him down tenderly. his chest rises and falls and as you’re unlocking the cuffs around his wrists, he’s smiling to himself with all the energy he has left, because despite how hard you try to change it, to ‘teach him a lesson’...

satoru still loves his punishments.

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system-to-the-madness · 3 months

Text

お米 Okome - Inumaki Toge x Reader

Pairing: Inumaki Toge x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff Word Count: 4 532 Warnings: mentions of blood and injury Summary: Inumaki hates that he can’t use his voice to express his feelings towards you

Masterlist

Inumaki Toge doesn’t usually struggle with his fate. If there’s a situation he doesn’t like, he prefers action over lament and puts his mind to work to find a way to change it. Sure, there are situations he can’t change, his cursed speech for example, then he works around those things, finds a way to deal with it somehow. He talks in onigiri ingredients, occasionally uses a notebook or his phone’s note app to communicate more difficult matters. Inumaki Toge doesn’t usually struggle with his fate.

Except now he does. His eyes fall on Yuuta and you, sitting on a bench underneath the Momiji, red leaves sparkling in the autumn sun. Even from the distance where Toge just stepped out of the building across the yard, he can tell how hard you’re laughing, can tell that Yuuta has the biggest grin on his face. He stops, several different thoughts shooting through his head all at once. He loves your laugh. He wants to make you laugh too. He can’t, because of his cursed speech. He envies Yuuta for being able to tell you joke and making you laugh like that. And suddenly he remembers this thing he read in a magazine, that said that girls like boys who can make them laugh, and his stomach sinks.

Toge already knows you like Yuuta. Its’s obvious. Do you like him because he can make you laugh? Toge stops in his steps where he was about to walk over to join the two of you, his heart suddenly thrumming almost painfully in his chest. Do you like Yuuta? He watches his black-haired friend, watches as he lifts his hand and leans a little closer to you. You stop laughing and lean in too. For a terrifying moment Toge thinks he’s about to witness you, the classmate he may or may not have had the biggest crush on since your first one-on-one training session, kiss his friend. But you don’t. Instead, you listen to something Yuuta says that Toge can’t make out over the distance and burst into another fit of laughter.

Suddenly Toge feels like crying. He could never make you laugh like that. Not by whispering a few words into the narrow space between you, not by letting words roll over his tongue. He can write them down, or pantomime them, or fool around to make you laugh, but he can never whisper them.

He wants to talk to you about normal things too, about the stupid weather, or how pretty you look with that new hoodie, or how clever your answers in class were, or how annoying Gojo and this new homework is. He doesn’t want to have to use his notebook for every slightly more complicated conversation, but he can’t be sure you would understand him if he didn’t. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could use his voice to talk to you. Ever since he really, truly understood his cursed technique, he’s realized just how powerful and yet intimate voice is.

It’s something he’ll never be able to use to communicate his feelings.

Once, not long after Yuuta had joined the school, they, together with Panda, had talked about it. Or rather Yuuta and Panda had talked about his cursed technique, and he had listened. Panda had joked that if he ever wanted someone to kiss him, he could just use his cursed technique, which Yuuta had disagreed on, saying he’d need the other person’s permission to use his technique on them, otherwise it’d be harassment. Panda, who hadn’t thought about that, had quickly agreed, and the two had joked around a bit longer about the possibilities this offered. Toge thought about their words a lot. But there was something inside him, that wholly refused to use his technique for these purposes. It just wouldn’t feel right. Even if the other person agreed, or even asked him to do it, it would be like he’d take their will from them. He’d never do that for his own pleasure.

Toge gets pulled back into the moment by your voice calling for him. He blinks and looks up, finding you and Yuuta had turned to face him, waving him over. As much as he appreciates Yuuta, and as much as he likes you, he doesn’t feel like going over. He doesn’t want to hear the way your voice probably rises in pitch when talking to the special grade sorcerer, doesn’t want to watch Yuuta subtly touch you, doesn’t want to feel like he’s intruding on this moment between you, doesn’t want to burden himself with more heartbreak than he already signed up for.

He swallows thickly before he crosses his arm like an X in front of his chest.

“Okaka,” he denies, continuing his way as if he had planned on moving towards the dojo, instead of towards his friends.

He doesn’t dare to glance over to see your reaction. Are you disappointed? If you were, he’d feel guilty. If you weren’t, he’d be disappointed. If he’s being honest, he can understand that you like Yuuta. The guy is sensitive, and quiet, a good listener, great at giving advice. He’s funny and overall great company. And he’s crazy powerful. Otherwise he wouldn’t be a special grade sorcerer. And he saved your life when Toge himself was of absolutely no help whatsoever, instead almost throwing up from the taste of his own blood.

Toge is nothing in comparison to Yuuta. Sure, he has a strong technique. A strong technique he can use two to three times before his throat is bleeding. And he can be funny, or at least he’s good at making a fool of himself. And he can listen, but he never knows what to answer, worried that whichever advice he gives, it might not actually be helpful, or only make everything worse. So, if you like Yuuta, he gets it. If he were in your place, he’d also prefer Yuuta over himself. Not that you have to choose between the two of them, you could also be interested in neither of them. But the point stands: Yuuta is the better fit for you, and as much as Toge wants you to be happy, it breaks his heart.

“What was that,” asks Yuuta, tearing his eyes away from his retreating friend and looking at you instead.

You’re still watching Inumaki leave, his posture somewhat sunken in, hands buried in his pockets. He looks defeated and somehow you want to run after him, ask him what’s wrong. But that would be too pushy, too clingy, wouldn’t it? So instead, you swallow and turn back to Yuuta.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “He’s been… weird lately.”

Yuuta nodded. “I know, right? And ever since that last mission…”

That last mission, on which Gojo sent the three of you. That last mission where Inumaki’s voice gave out before he could finish the command, which lead to the curse injuring you. That last mission where Yuuta had been the one who had finished the short fight in just a single blow. You knew better than to assume that Inumaki was jealous of Yuuta’s power. You knew he wasn’t. But still something seemed to have dimmed his formerly good relationship with Yuuta. And with you too. He avoided you, texted you less throughout the day, reduced his already limited vocabulary to the equivalents of agreement and disagreement. You feel like you’ve made a mistake somehow, said or done something that hurt him.

“Do you think he’d talk to me about it,” you wonder, your voice small, nothing left of the breathless laughter from a moment ago.

Yuuta chews on his lip as he considers your question, and you know he’s considering a few things he officially doesn’t even know about. For example that you like Inumaki, that you make an active effort to spend time with him, have conversations with him. You’re the one who understands him the best, understands his language the best, even without the notebook.

What you don’t know, is that Yuuta also knows the other side of the story. He knows that Inumaki uses his notebook with you the most, because he wants you to understand his mind. He knows that Inumaki spends a lot of time considering each and every conversation he’s had with you. Sometimes, it’s late at night, and Yuuta gets a text from Inumaki, telling him about a conversation he’s had with you and if he should have replied something else. It’s not hard to tell that Inumaki is absolutely enamoured with you, and you with him. At least it’s not hard to tell from Yuuta’s perspective. But the way Inumaki and you never seem to understand the affection the other is harbouring, Yuuta begins to think that it’s actually very hard to tell from either of your perspectives. Or you’re both just idiots. Which, honestly, as much as he likes the two of you, is more likely.

“I’m not sure,” Yuuta eventually answers your question. There’s a lot Inumaki is bottling up, a lot he doesn’t even tell Yuuta about, stuff Yuuta can only assume. “But I think he’d probably appreciate it if you asked. Maybe he won’t tell you what’s going on, but I think he’d be glad to know you care.” This is as much as he can do to be honest without giving his friend’s secret away to you. A secret, Yuuta doesn’t even know officially.

“Don’t you think he’d get annoyed? He looked pretty upset just now,” you ask. You’re torn between wanting to show Inumaki that you cared, and scared of getting sent away or even worse, him getting angry at you.

“I mean, if you’re worried about it, you can always give him an hour or two. But I don’t think he’d mind if it were you, checking up on him.”

You don’t question Yuuta’s phrasing. Everyone knows you and Inumaki understand each other on a different level, the speed at which you sometimes communicate in single words thrown back and forth leaving the others out of their wits and completely clueless what the conversation was about.

“I’ll give him five,” you decide, leaning your back against the wooden table and glancing up at the red leaves overhead. “If he gets mad at me, it’s on you.”

Yuuta laughs, knowing you’re not serious. You’re not the kind of person who blames others for the outcome of your actions.

“He’d never get mad at you.”

“He looked pretty mad at me for getting injured on that last mission,” you disagree with Yuuta.

“He wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. He blamed your injury on himself, when he couldn’t stop that curse because his voice gave out.”

You winced at the memory of blood trickling down from the corner of Inumaki’s mouth. He had once told you that he sometimes got sick from the taste, and after the curse was taken care of by Yuuta, it had been easier to focus on Inumaki than your own state. You remembered how awful the bright red blood had looked against his unusually pale skin.

“It wasn’t his fault, and he knows that.”

“Rationally yes,” Yuuta agreed. “But he still blames himself.”

“I’m surprised he talked to you about that,” you admit, closing your eyes in the sun. Behind your eyelids the picture of Inumaki’s bloody and scared face haunts your memory. You open your eyes again. “He never mentioned anything like that to me.”

“He didn’t, but it’s obvious,” Yuuta said.

“Is it?”

He just hummed in agreement.

“What else is obvious?”

“A lot. But that’s not mine to talk about.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you and Inumaki really should talk about some stuff,” Yuuta answers, “Like for example that you like him.” He almost feels bad at the way you freeze up beside him.

“I don’t,” you deny, but there is no force in your voice.

“Just saying,” Yuuta shrugs. “A lot of stuff is obvious. Just not to you and him.”

There’s a moment of silence and you have a feeling Yuuta knows what you’re about to ask, your cheeks burning with shame, but you ask anyway.

“Does he like me too?”

Yuuta turns to you then, his big eyes studying you for a moment intensely. “You don’t have to ask me that. You have to ask him.”

You exhale with a sigh a glance at your wristwatch: “Fine… maybe not today, tho.”

Yuuta chuckles, knowing that that’s going to be your response for every day to come, but he doesn’t call you out for it. He doesn’t know if he’d have the courage to confess his feelings if he were in your position either.

“Welp, his five minutes are up. I’m gonna see if he’s okay,” you declare, and stand up from the bench you had been lounging on. “Just-” you glance down at your classmate. “Just don’t tell him about this conversation, will you?”

Yuuta nods. “I can keep a secret,” he smiles, and you’re satisfied, before you head into the same direction Inumaki ran off to a few minutes prior.

He wasn’t in the dojo where you expected him to be after he had wandered off there, so left a little helpless, you began searching for him. After checking all the usual places, you finally spied him sitting hunched over on a bench next to the koi pond in one of the small, traditional gardens squeezed between the buildings. He looked lost in thought, so you made an effort to not walk too quietly as not to startle him. But when you reached the bench and he still hadn’t turned to look up you, you furrowed your brows in confusion. Was he mad at you?

“Inumaki-san,” you asked quietly, sitting down next to him with a safe distance. He wasn’t wearing his full uniform, instead of the black jacket he had pulled a warm, green vest over the white shirt sleeved shirt with the high collar that hid his curse marks. “Toge?”

At the use of his given name, he finally looked up at you.

Your breath stopped when you saw the sadness in his purple eyes. He quickly blinked it away, but you knew what you had seen, your heart hurting at the way he had seemed so lost. Maybe even worse was that he didn’t want to show his feelings to you, instead masking them up.

“What’s wrong.”

“Okaka.” Nothing. Why?

“Don’t,” you warned him, “Don’t lie to me. Please don’t.”

“Okaka, okaka!” I’m not lying! He said it with amusement in his voice, but when you failed to smile, his eyes grew serious again. “Okaka.” Nothing’s wrong.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

“Shake, shake.” Yeah, yeah, I know.

“Do you want to talk to me?”

This time his answer took longer, and it was only quietly spoke when he answered with another “Shake.”

Instead of saying anything else, he began reaching for the notebook he always carried with him, but before his fingertips had even grazed the cover, you caught his hand.

“You can talk to me. I’ll understand you. No notebook needed.”

Toge looked up at you then, his eyes widened. What did you mean, you didn’t need the notebook? Would you really understand him?

“Tuna,” he mumbled, averting his gaze from yours, but from the corner of his eyes he saw you tilt your head. How the hell was he supposed to communicate his feelings with onigiri ingredients? He had words to agree and disagree, words to catch attention and swear, but how was he supposed to tell you his greatest wish was to talk to you without having to use this damn notebook, that he wanted to just use normal language, like everyone else? How was he supposed to tell you how much it hurt to see you liking Yuuta? “Okaka.” It won’t work.

“You can try. And if it doesn’t work, you can still write it down, okay?”

“Shake.” Okay. He reached his hand up, absentmindedly running his fingers over his curse marks peeking out from under his high collar. “Ikura.” I hate them.

He had more mumbled that to himself, but you nodded. “They don’t make life very easy, do they?”

“Shake.” No, they don’t. Toge focused on what he wanted you to know, that he wished he could talk to you without risking cursing you. “Furikake… saamon.”

Okay, this was new. Not just one, but two new ingredients. Rice spice and the other word for salmon. You furrowed your brows. “Can you say that again?”

“Furikake saamon,” Toge repeated, slowly, trying to convey his feelings through just these two words. This was never gonna work.

“You want to talk about your thoughts?”

His eyes widened at your correct interpretation of his words.

“Shake, shake!” Enthusiastically he nodded his head. “Furikake saamon! Nori nai!”

“Nori nai, nori na- you don’t want to use…”

“Nori!” He motioned to his mouth, then to the notebook in his pocket.

“Onigiri ingredients and the notebook? You don’t want to use them?”

“Shake, shake!”

He nodded again, and you could see how excited he was, his eyes shining with disbelief that he had managed to communicate something so out of context to you. Quickly he reached up and pulled the zipper of his collar down, so he could additionally use his mimic to tell you what he was thinking.

“Tarago Furikake.” His lilac eyes were widened expectantly, as he waited for you to decipher his words.

“You want to talk?”

He nodded, then pointed at you. “Tarago furikake,” he repeated, underlining his words with stabbing his finger into your direction.

“You want to talk to me?”

“Shake. Nori nai furikake tamago. Okaka.”

“I know. I know it’s difficult without the notebook,” you sighed. “But we’re managing. Right? It might take me a while to get used to it, but I we’re having a normal conversation right now, right? A bit like talking with someone in a foreign language, but not much different than that.”

Toge smiled, the sight making your breath hitch. You were used to seeing his eyes squeeze together when he smiled, but his mouth usually was covered by his collar. You couldn’t help but think that he was one of the most beautiful people you knew.

“Furikake nai, tamago, maguro, nori” he continued.

“Maguro,” you repeated the second last word, thinking what he might have meant. Quietly you mumbled the phrase he had just uttered, your eyes skipping away from his face and over the koi pond instead, as if the translation were written in the ripples on the water surface. Without talking, having to write everything down, he felt bad… like an outsider. Your eyes widened. Was this really what he had wanted to say? That he felt like an outsider? You looked back at him, seeing the shock on his face as he took in your expression.

“We’re making you feel like an outsider because you can’t talk to us? Toge-“

“Okaka, Okaka!” He quickly waved his hands around, signalling you had misunderstood. “Tamago. Maguro.” He pointed to himself.

“You feel like an outsider?”

“Shake!”

“Because you can’t talk to us?”

“Shake.” This time his voice was quieter, and he averted his gaze.

You exhaled quietly. You knew there was not much you could do to change the way he felt, nothing you weren’t doing already anyway. But to deny his feelings wouldn’t be right, even if you wanted to convince him that he wasn’t an outsider.

“I’m sorry,” you started. “I promise you, to us, you’re an integral part of the group, even if you don’t feel like you always are. Do you… do you have any ideas how we could help you feel more included?”

Toge shook his head. “Okaka,” he denied, and then pointing at himself: “Tamago.” It’s my negative feeling. “Tanaka-zuku mentaiko.” You’re doing everything right. There’s nothing you can do to change that. He hesitated for a moment before he added: “Furikake.”HHe hesitated for a moment before he added.

“Of course, we’ll keep talking to you. And you see that you can talk to us too. If I can learn to understand you, so can the others.”

Toge seriously doubted that, but he didn’t voice his thought, instead focusing back on what you had been talking about. “Tarago furikake mayo. Tuna-mayo furikake, saamon tamago, shiisamu. Takana-zuke tarago tuna-mayo shiisamu.”

You stared at him intensely, making his heart race. There was no way you had understood what he had just said. Was there? He was using words he had never used with you, or anyone at jujutsu high, before. He had sometimes used them when he had been younger, when he had talked to his toys as a little kid, finding ingredients for almost anything he could think of. That he still remembered them was a surprise. But there was no way you’d understand him like this, not even when he tried to embed the sentimental meaning of each word into his voice. Your eyes skipped over his face, as you were thinking hard, and Toge waited for the “Sorry, I don’t know what you mean, please write it down.” But it didn’t come. Instead, you answered him.

“I want you to be able to talk openly too. And I’d love to hear about the bad things you think and feel as much as about the good things. Because they’re part of you. Even when they’re hard, even when they’re painful and difficult to admit. But that’s why we have each other, right? So we’re not alone, so the difficult times aren’t quite as difficult. And you already make me laugh, you already make me feel happy. I’m always the happiest when I’m with you.”

You hadn’t used the word friend. The thought rang in Toge’s mind, and together with your last sentence it accumulated to the next words that spilled over his lips, words he had been certain he’d never actually say out loud. Words, which’s meaning he had thought he’d never communicate to you in any form or way.

“Tarago tuna-mayo furikake okome. Tarago tanaka-zuke okome.”I want to use my voice to tell you that I’m in love with you. I want you to be in love with me too.

The moment the words had left his lips, he wanted to make it all undone. What if you had understood him and didn’t feel the same way? All this time he wished you’d understand him, and now he hoped you hadn’t understood a word of what he had just uttered. The way you stared at him wide eyed was a good sign that you really hadn’t.

“Okome,” you asked, your heart beating in your throat. If you had thought rationally about the way he was listing food, you wouldn’t have had the faintest idea of what he had wanted to express, but somehow his emotions were swinging in his words, like the sounds accumulated to a meaning that wasn’t transported by words.

“Mentaiko,” he began, wanting to lift his hands to wave it off, to tell you that it wasn’t important.

But before he had completed the gesture, you caught his wrist with your dominant hand, raising the other between you, pointing at him.

“Okome,” you asked before pointing to yourself. Your voice was shaky, and you could see the moment Toge realized you had understood him.

His eyes widened and he paled a little, swallowing hard. You could see the fear in his eyes. He was afraid you’d turn him down, you realized, and your heart broke a little.

So, what did you do, when your best friend, who you had liked for far too long without acting on it, accidentally confessed his love to you? Using the word for “rice” nonetheless, the base ingredient for onigiri. Because just like one couldn’t make rice balls without rice, humans couldn’t live without love.

You repeated the gesture towards yourself, pointing at you again. “Okome,” you said, voice just as shaky as before, before pointing at Toge.

His eyes followed your finger, the way it was pointing right at his chest, where his heart was stuttering in excitement, and then doing cartwheels, as the realization began settling in.

“Okome,” he asked in disbelieve.

But you just nodded. “Okome.”

He acted quicker than you could really perceive. Your one hand was still holding onto his wrist, to stop him from gesticulating, his skin warm underneath yours, but with the other he grabbed the hand with which you had pointed between you and him. His fingers wrapped around yours tightly, pulling you towards him, pressing your hand right over his heart, while he leant in at the same time, connecting his lips to yours.

A shiver went through you, at the feeling of his warm body underneath his clothes, at his soft lips pressed to yours, at the strange tingling of cursed energy that radiated from his cursed mark. And then you abandoned all thoughts, and just acted on instinct, moving closer to him, wrapping your hand into the fabric of his vest, and kissing him like you had wanted to kiss him for such a long time already.

A sound of appreciative surprise erupted from Toge’s throat and you could feel him smile as he met your kiss with equal fervour, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of your lips. When you parted them just the smallest fraction, he didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue past them, exploring your mouth until both of you had to pull away for breath. You were breathing heavily, your mind foggy, fingers wrapped into his vest, holding on to something, otherwise it felt like the world would just slip away.

When you opened your eyes, you found he was already looking at you. His beautiful eyes were scanning over your face as if searching for any sign of discomfort, as if he expected you to scold him for kissing you. Honestly, at this point the only scolding he’d get was that he had stopped kissing you.

Unwrapping one of your hands from where you had clung to him, you brushed a strand of his bright hair out of his forehead, the curl soft against your fingertips. With a smile you leant forward, and pressed your lips to his left cheek, then the curse mark there, feeling the cursed energy sizzle through them. You moved on to his right cheek, then his forehead, the tip of his nose, his chin, peppering small kisses all over his face until he was full on laughing and took hold of your face with both of his hands, pulling you only far enough away from him to be able to look into your eyes. His were still crinkled in joy, but his voice was serious and heavy with how much he meant this single word phrase that left his lips without hesitation.

“Okome.” And then he kissed you again, slower this time, just to make sure you understood each little detail of what he felt for you. Inumaki Toge sometimes struggled with his fate, but as long as he had you to understand him, what else could he really ask for?

Tags: @nnasv @ashy-akuma @delzinrowe

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narryffdreaming · 16 days

Text

Summary: Harry and Gianna are best friends. He's been in love with her for years now, but she's dating someone else and he knows it's time to move on. When Harry finally agrees to go out on a blind date, Gianna reaches out — she just broke up with her boyfriend, and she needs her best friend.

PART ONE AU, friends to lovers +18 (explicit language) 7k words I said to myself that I wouldn't do it, but I'm doing it anyway :D

Harry knocks on the bathroom door once, and then twice. He turns his head to the side and leans in, trying to catch any indication of an answer over the music blasting from downstairs.

It's hard to focus, though. The steady and rapid beat keeps banging from his ears to every corner of his brain, it echoes between the walls, and it seems to shake the ground beneath him. On top of that, even though he's on the second floor of the house, at the end of the hallway, and standing in an empty room, he can't tune out all the shouting, laughing, and cheering. All the people he walked past on his way in feel distant and muffled now, and yet he still can't hear one single thing through the white wood, which somehow makes everything even more annoying.

"Fuck," he whispers to himself, then steps away from the door.

He can still run away. He can still let her know he's busy tonight. He can still tell her that he won't be able to make it because he has somewhere else to go. Because he has someone else to see. Because he's already on his way to the opposite side of town.

He can… He still can… And also he should, right? He should tell her that. Mostly because, for once, it wouldn't even be a lie.

Holy shit.

Isn't it funny that, for the first time in three weeks, he wouldn't be lying to her? That for the first time he actually has plans to use as an excuse to not see her? That finally — finally — he's listened to his friends and agreed to move on?

And isn't it funny that, despite all that, there he is, on a Friday night, ignoring everything and everyone, and standing inside a stranger's house just because she asked him to?

Harry chuckles and rubs one hand across his face. He's so fucking stupid.

Because yes… He can still say no to her. And he should say no to her.

Except…

He shakes his head, and grabs his phone. Who's he even trying to fool? He can't say no to her. Of course he can't. C'mon. It's Gianna we're talking about. His Gianna. His best friend. The one person in the world he would do absolutely anything for. Of course he can't say no to her. Not when she says she needs him.

So… Ok. He needs to focus, instead. He needs to go straight to the point. He can't say no to her, but he can still say a quick hello and jump right into a goodbye. In and out. In a blink of an eye. He can be there for a friend, and still make it to his date.

Yes.

C'mon!

He checks her last text one more time, the one she sent forty-three minutes ago: second floor, last door. hiding in the bathroom. With a sigh, he puts his phone back into his pocket and takes a step forward, then turns his head to the side and presses his ear against the white wood. He lifts his hand in a fist, and knocks again. And again. And again. And again.

First comes some cursing, and then her loud and muffled voice. "Go away!"

Harry closes his eyes and, before he can even register what's happening, his lips have already turned up into a smile.

Gianna's voice is unmistakable. Not because there is something unusual or peculiar about it, but because it feels extremely characteristic of hers. Never too high, never too low. Always enough. It captures everything about her personality: the softness, the certainty, the brightness, the stubbornness, the kindness, the understanding, the annoyance, the reasoning, the confidence, the innocence, the strength, the—

Harry blinks his eyes open, and clears his throat.

He is there on a mission, so again, he needs to focus. Make sure she's ok, and make it in time for his date.

"You're the one who asked me to be here," he points out, raising his voice, but not actually yelling.

And then, it only takes three seconds for him to hear the click of the door being unlocked. He steps back and faces the bathroom, then takes a deep breath and pulls his curls away from his forehead.

Truth is, he hasn't seen Gianna in three weeks, and he can't deny he's dying to be around her again. To see the wrinkles on her face when she smiles, or the sparkles in her eyes when she tells him about something exciting that happened to her.

Fuck.

His stomach feels funny, and he gulps down. He absolutely hates this.

The door cracks open, but Gianna barely gives herself enough space to look outside, let alone to give him the chance to look at her.

"Is it just you?" she asks, peeking around him through the tiny gap she's created.

Harry frowns, and snorts. "No, I just met a bunch of strangers downstairs and brought them up here to check on my friend who apparently locked herself in some random bathroom and—"

"Okay, okay." She rolls her eyes and sighs, then steps aside. "I get it."

She hides behind the door, and silently offers him more room to walk in.

Harry shakes his head and presses his lips into a tight line, but shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and walks forward anyway.

The space is tiny, but enough for both of them. White walls match the toilet, the bathtub, the countertop with the sink, and the medicine cabinet. The only sources of color are the orange towel hanging on the wall next to the sink, the bottles of shampoo on a corner shelf, the yellow shower curtain crumpled on one side of the tub, and a bowl of Doritos on top of the closed toilet lid.

He quirks one corner of his mouth up, but also furrows his brows. What the hell is going on? How long has she been here? And why is she even hiding in the bathroom in the first place?

Gianna closes and locks the door, and Harry jolts.

He turns on his feet, just in time to see her twirling around, too.

She glares at him with a frown on her face and hands on her hips. Her chest moves up and down, quickly and heavily, and her nostrils flare every time she takes a deep breath in. It's easy to notice, because the green overall she's wearing does a great job at hiding everything from her belly to her midcalf, but it isn't covering that much of her cleavage. Nor the soft skin on her shoulders. Nor the smoothness of her arms. And her long necklace — the one she got for herself after her first paycheck — follows the movements of her lungs, and the big, golden pendant is this close to get lost between the swells of her breasts.

Fuck. Heat rushes through his body, and his breath gets stuck in his throat.

He can't make her uncomfortable, though. He can't let her know the thoughts that keep crossing his mind every time he looks at her body. He can't even let her know he (sometimes and unwillingly) glances at her body. Fuck no. He can't be inappropriate.

He can't, under any circumstance, cross that line with her.

He just can't.

He clears his throat and forces himself to focus on her face, then. Taking in her infuriated expression first, and then her puffy cheeks, and then her smudged makeup…

And then her red eyes…

And then her washed-out stare…

He drops his shoulders, then exhales through his nose.

Here we go again…

"What did he do now?"

She opens her mouth, then closes it. And Harry's seen that same reaction so many times before that he already knows she's changing her mind about the kind of answer she wants to give him. That she will somehow deflect the truth. And that she will once again try to protect that fucking son of a bitch.

"I just…" Gianna says, and shrugs. "I just hate him."

Harry stares at her for a moment, then tilts his chin down and looks at his feet. Ok. Maybe not what he expected her to say, but still… He shakes his head and laughs, and the sound comes out of him as humorless and exhausted as he feels.

"Right," he offers, because it's the only thing he can come up with.

Is it possible for him to feel concerned about her, but also extremely annoyed at her? Because he can swear he is.

Gianna's big pleading eyes and cherry pouty mouth have always been some of his biggest weaknesses, but he promised himself he wouldn't do this again. He promised he wouldn't interfere anymore. He promised he would let her go. And he promised he would move on.

"I do, Harry," she insists. "I truly do."

He nods, then takes one hand out of his pocket and rubs one finger under his nose. Whatever. He really isn't in the mood for this drama. Not again. Not tonight. Not when he has finally decided to move on and is supposed to be on a date instead.

"You texted," he says, dropping his arm and lifting his head to face her again. He hides his hand inside his pocket again, secretly wriggling his fingers and trying to get some of his tension off his body. "Thought something happened to you."

She looks away from him, then shrugs. Her hand falls from her hip to hang by the side of her body, and she tilts her chin down, staring at her fidgety fingers.

Harry notices the moment she swallows hard, as if burying her emotions down her throat, and his entire body goes cold.

Gianna isn't happy, and she hasn't been for such a long time. And at the end of the day, it kills him to see her like this. It kills him to see her so sad. It really does. He wants to take her pain away, he wants to hold her, and he wants to protect her. And yet he can't. Not how he would like to, at least. And he doesn't know how to help her anymore. He doesn't know what else he can do. Or what else he can say. He's already tried everything and, to be honest, he feels as if he has completely run out of options. As if he has failed her.

He's powerless, and he's useless.

And he's also really fucking lost.

"I hate him," she finally says, glancing at him and repeating herself. Ignoring his attempt to change the subject.

And for a moment, Harry can swear he sees a flicker of certainty inside her. He sees it, and he feels it.

Maybe…

Yeah. Maybe she finally means it. Maybe this time is actually different.

Maybe she finally realized that fucking son of a bitch isn't worth a second of her day and she's finally going to—

No.

Harry looks away.

He'll just never learn the lesson, will he?

"I mean it."

"Right. Ok, then."

"Ugh," Gianna grunts, then clenches her teeth. "Stop saying that!"

"Saying what?" he asks, walking to the bathtub.

"Right," Gianna mimics.

Her attempt to imitate his voice and accent is endearing, and as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, he also purses his lips to hold back a smile.

"It's truly annoying," she adds. "Especially when you say it like that."

He places his elbows on his knees and tilts his chin up, looking at her.

Her arms are crossed, and she is glaring at him again.

Harry shrugs. "Like what?"

Gianna shakes her head and looks away—first at the floor, then at the sink. It takes her a moment to sigh and shrug, and when she finally speaks, her voice is only a weak whisper. "Like you don't believe in me anymore."

And just like that, Harry's entire body softens.

He didn't mean to make her think that. He didn't mean to hurt her or to be mean to her. He didn't mean to make her sad. He just… He just can't understand the situation. He just doesn't know what to do about it, and he also doesn't know how to bring it up to her anymore.

There is nothing in the world he wishes more than for those words to be true. For her to actually hate that fucking guy and leave him for good. So of course he wants to believe her, and he would if he hadn't heard the same story countless times before. But what good getting his hopes up for nothing, once again, would even do?

"Gi…" Harry says, stretching one arm to poke her knee. She flinches away, and he sighs. "Gi, c'mon, look at me."

"No."

He leans forward, stretching both of his arms now. When he still doesn't reach her, he lifts his bum a little and groans, then finally grabs her waist and pulls her closer. "Just come here."

Gianna doesn't fight him, letting him guide her until she is standing in front of him and in between his knees. Still, she doesn't look at him, keeping her arms crossed under her chest and focusing on the yellow curtain to his left, instead.

Truthfully speaking, her stubbornness is usually one of the traits Harry enjoys the least, because it tends to make her act like a grumpy, annoying little girl. On the other hand, it is also one of the things he envies the most about her, because it drives her forward to achieve whatever she wants — like when she plays it in her favor to get interviews or exclusive content for the magazine she works at.

Besides, Gianna isn't perfect, Harry knows that. And he doesn't expect her to be. So he humors her childish behavior sometimes. Like right now, when he's determined to bury himself inside her eyes. Tilting his chin up, dropping his head back and straightening his back just to look at her. Searching for her sight even if she won't give in and share it with him.

"Gi," he calls, as careful, soft, and tender as he can be. "Hey… I'm sorry, ok?"

She bites her lip, and shrugs.

And because she's also old and mature enough to act like an adult, he doesn't hold himself back from trying to put some sense into her.

"You gotta understand where I'm coming from, yeah? We've been here before, and—"

"I know, but—"

"No, you don't know, Gi. So let me say this."

She sighs, but peeks at him through the corner of her eyes and nods.

It is more than enough for him, and he gives her a half-smile, placing the tip of his fingers on the side of her knees—just to hold her somehow, just to make sure she won't run away from him before he can explain himself.

"We've been through this thousands of times, and I fucking hate when you still stay with him every single one of them. Because I hate the guy."

"I know sometimes you don't like him, but—"

"Gi, no. Listen to what I'm saying. I don't like that guy from work who chews too loudly and makes boring jokes. But Miles? I'm telling you I fucking hate him."

Gianna drops her shoulders, and her arms fall to her sides.

"Harry…" She dips her chin down and draws her eyebrows together, finally fully looking at him. "But that's… I mean… He's my boyfriend."

A new kind of heat flushes through his body, and Harry tenses.

Is she being fucking serious right now?

Is she actually going to defend him?

Is she going to stand up for him or something?

He closes his eyes for a second and clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath and trying his best to keep himself together.

He can't do this anymore. He can't keep running in circles. He can't keep dodging the truth just to protect their friendship. Mostly because, at this point, he isn't really protecting any of them anymore.

"I know," he says, blinking his eyes open and meeting her gaze one more time. "I know he is. But you're my best friend and I love you, and I hate the way he treats you. I hate that we can't see each other without it turning into a fight between you two. I hate that he won't support the things you love. I hate that he's always tricking you into changing your mind about things. I hate that you're always sad because of him. I hate that he's always making you cry. So yeah, Gi… I know he's your boyfriend, but I hate him. And I'm not sorry for that."

For a long moment, there's nothing but silence between them. Music and people are completely muffled by the walls and the closed door, almost making it easy to forget there is even a party going on out there.

Harry sits there patiently. Watching her. Waiting for her.

And Gianna watches him back. Attentive. Curious. Puzzled. Thoughtful. Scanning him with those beautiful, big, meaningful eyes. Standing right in front of him, between his knees. So close that, if he faced forward, he would only need to lean a couple inches to kiss her body. And she smells heavenly, too, like she always does when she's wearing that same perfume — fresh, captivating, sexy.

The woman of his dreams, embarrassingly as it may sound. And embarrassingly as it may be.

"Is that…" she murmurs, so quietly she really doesn't mean for anyone but him to hear. "I mean, is he the reason why you've been avoiding me these past few weeks?"

He closes his eyes for half a moment, then looks back at her. "You noticed, huh?"

"You thought I wouldn't?"

"I don't know." He shrugs. "Wasn't trying to make it obvious."

"Well, it sucked, okay? One morning I even cried listening to you on the radio."

Harry tilts his head, and pulls the corners of his mouth into a smile. "No you didn't."

She rolls her eyes, holding back a smile of her own. "Trust me, I wish it was a lie."

"Ugh." He dips his head down for a moment, rolling his shoulders before looking up again. "'M sorry, Gi."

"Yeah…" She crosses her arms once again, pressing them against her stomach and clenching her hands into fists. "I'm sorry, too."

She looks away, and he taps the tip of his fingers on the back of her knees. Already missing her undivided attention.

"What happened, Gi?" he carefully asks. "How long have you been hiding here?"

"I… I don't know. An hour? Maybe more…"

Harry sighs. "Gi… C'mon."

"I know."

"You see how insane it is, right?" he asks, staring directly at her just to observe her reaction. To make sure he isn't pushing too much. To make sure he's actually helping her, and not making it worse. "Hiding in someone's bathroom for over an hour while he's out there throwing a party for people half his age?"

She closes her eyes, then bites her bottom lip and nods.

She knows.

She actually knows.

Whatever happened this time, it finally woke her up. It finally made her see it.

He drops his shoulders, scanning her face.

Then why is she still here? Why does she keep waiting around for him? Why does she keep putting herself in this position? Over and over again? What is so special about this fucking guy that is worth all the pain he constantly puts her through?

And most importantly, what is it going to take for her to finally realize that she deserves so much better than to be treated like… This?

What can he do to help her? What's left for him to try? If he's run out of ideas, if he's said everything he could say to her, what difference can he still make?

Maybe…

No.

A thought creeps in, but he doesn't want to acknowledge it. He doesn't want to engage with it.

Although he should, because it is a new idea, and it is something he hasn't tried yet. It includes being honest, not filtering his thoughts just to make sure she won't end up hating him, and stop playing safe. It also forces him to finally take a chance, and to finally stop holding himself back.

It's too risky, though. Especially right now, when she's so vulnerable and still dating the guy.

Ok… So maybe not the entire truth, then? Maybe just the facts she needs to hear to break away from whatever curse that asshole spread on her.

And he can try that. He did it just minutes ago, when he told her how much he hates the guy — and that seemed to work more than fine so far, right?

Yes.

Ok, then.

He slides his tongue between his lips, and rolls his shoulders. And then, keeping his eyes on her, he finally says, "Gi, you deserve a lot better than this."

Gianna doesn't seem to react, although the way her breasts suddenly pop up into his eye-line suggests she's holding all the breath in her chest.

He insists, then — mostly because he knows she's actively listening to him, but also because he can't allow his fucking hormones distract him from what's really important right now.

"You deserve to be treated so much better than the way he treats you."

She stays still, frozen in front of him.

So he places his hands on the back of her knees and gently squeezes her. Briefly, though. Just one time. Just to make sure he gets her attention when he asks, "You know that, right?"

Gianna shrugs, then. And Harry catches the moment her bottom lip trembles. And how her breath quivers when she exhales.

"Hey," he says, squeezing her again. "Sorry, love. Don't wanna make you cry."

He's crossing the line.

He shouldn't touch her like this.

He knows that.

Even if it's an innocent hold on top of her clothes. Even if she barely notices it. Even if it means nothing to her.

Because he notices. He feels her body under his palm, and he feels the way her flesh sinks when he digs each one of his fingertips to get her attention.

And he notices how she fits perfectly into his grip. And now he can't stop thinking how there isn't even an inch of her body he doesn't want to squeeze and feel just like this, but also way, way more.

"I'm not—It's not…" Gianna says (or tries to say).

Harry blinks, and loosens up his craving fingers.

Gianna shakes her head and opens her eyes, looking at him again. "He didn't look for me, y'know? I've been here all this time and he didn't… Not even a text."

Harry doesn't know what to say to that, so he brushes his thumb up and down once. Trying to comfort her. Trying to sooth her. Trying to remind her he is there, and he is listening to her. He is taking care of her.

"Something could've happened to me and he just… He just doesn't care at all."

He repeats the movement of his fingers one more time, and when she still doesn't seem to mind or be bothered by it, he repeats it again. Over and over. Drawing small, tiny circles on the back of her knees.

"'M sorry, love."

"I hate him."

And this time, Harry genuinely believes her.

"Me too," he says, keeping the steady stroke of his thumbs.

"He's just so fucking stupid."

"He is. Most fucking stupid guy I've—"

"And he broke up with me!"

Harry shuts his mouth.

What?

He did what?!

"It was so… Humiliating…" Gianna laughs, painfully, shortly and bitterly. And then the first tear rolls down her cheek, and although she quickly wipes it off, it's like she can't stop the next ones from following the exact same path.

Holy shit.

"Gi," Harry whispers.

She shakes her head and looks down to his chest, or maybe to his thighs, or just to anywhere in between them that doesn't include his eyes. She sniffs once, and, amidst new tears, she finally shares with him the one thing she's been avoiding to face the entire night.

"I don't… I don't even know what I did this time. Honestly… He came early to set everything up, so Crystal gave me a ride and… And then when we arrived he just… I just went to say hello to him… I didn't… He just broke up with me, H… Out of nowhere, and in front of everyone."

Jesus Christ.

There are suddenly a lot of things to unpack.

Too many things to point out. Too many things to ask.

Questions.

Yes.

So many questions.

Hundreds of them.

But the first one he blurts out is, "Crystal is here?"

Gianna sniffs, rubbing both hands on her cheeks, and nods.

"Angela too?"

"Yes."

Harry frowns. "Well, and where are they right now?"

"I don't know."

He can feel his muscles twitching. The urge to crack his knuckles and run after those two little b—

"Were they there when it happened?"

Gianna nods.

"And do they know you're here? Did they at least try to reach out to you?"

"I don't—I don't know, H…" she murmurs, dropping her arms to her sides and fidgeting with her fingers. "And to be honest I don't care… I don't want to see them… They'll tell me it was nothing… That he didn't mean it… And then they'll say I should forgive him and I just… I don't… I can't…"

Harry shuffles on the bathtub, and suddenly he's awfully aware of how much he'll, sooner or later, regret sitting there for so long. Still, right now, as he leans just a little bit closer to her, that's definitely the least of his worries.

"You can't forgive him, Gi," he pleads. "Not this time. Not after all this."

"I know… I know I can't… I just…"

She shakes her head, and Harry twitches his fingers around her knees. Digging them slightly, begging her not to stop. Not now. Not after all the progress they've made.

"What? Tell me… I'm here, yeah? I'm listening."

She takes one hand to her forehead and rubs the tips of her fingers from one side to the other. As if trying to slide the words out of her brain.

"I'm just… Scared."

"Ok…" Harry tilts his head, searching for her eyes. "Scared of what, love? Of him? Because you know I'll never let—"

"No." She shakes her head. "I'm not scared of him… It's not—Ugh… Look, I don't want to keep doing this anymore, okay? I really don't. But I'm… I'm scared I'll end up calling him anyway… And I know I shouldn't, I know that, but I… I mean, I don't know… I just… I don't know…"

"Ok, just breathe, yeah?" He moves his thumbs up and down again, foolishly hoping his touch will be enough to soothe her.

"I don't want to be that girl," she says, then takes a deep breath in, and lets the air out through her mouth. "I swear I don't."

"Ok… That's—"

"I'm scared I'll be, tho. And I don't want to. I don't—"

"Gi, hey… Listen to me."

She stops talking, and she also glances back at him. The look on her face is so scared, though, that it makes Harry's chest hurt.

He sighs, and asks. "Why would you call him, tho, hm?"

Gianna shrugs.

"If you don't want to… And if you're saying you know you shouldn't… Why are you so scared you'll call him anyway?"

"I don't know…"

She looks away again, and Harry notices that, unlike him, the only way she can get the words out of her mind is if she isn't staring at him.

"It's just what I did every other time before… He'll break up with me, then I'll get lonely at home and call him. And then he'll—"

"Wait." Harry frowns. "Just... Hold on a minute. This isn't the first time?"

She looks down to the floor, and shakes her head.

"How many times did he break up with you?"

Gianna laughs — humorlessly, tirelessly, unwillingly.

"Please don't make me answer that."

Harry freezes for a moment, and cautiously watches her. He examines her. Studies her. Trying to find any of the sparks she's usually radiating off her. Or any traces of joy. Or at least some peace in between everything that's happening. But she's just so sad. And she also looks so ashamed, and so scared, that he just… He can't do it anymore.

Honestly.

It's beyond whatever he can handle right now.

So he squeezes the back of her knees and pushes her closer, then leans in and places his head against her belly.

He closes his eyes, and sighs.

Holly shit.

Harry doesn't want to be dramatic, ok? So he'll never admit this out loud, but this shit physically pains him. It just does. He can't grasp his mind around the fact that getting into fights with her, making her cry, and diminishing her ideas wasn't enough for that fucking asshole. That he still needed to mess around with her feelings, and that he got away with it for so long that she now believes she'll end up crawling back to him no matter what.

He also hates the fact that he never knew "breaking up" was a common thing between them. That Gianna wasn't just forgiving all the childish and fucked up things Miles did, but that she was actively calling him up and asking to go back to him. And he doesn't blame her for that, ok? He doesn't. He loves her. So he just… Y'know…

He just…

"Fuck," he murmurs, clenching his teeth. "That fucking son of a bitch."

Gianna breathes in, and Harry feels the way her stomach slowly fills up with air, moving his head along with it. And then she exhales out, heavily and through her nose, and her stomach empties again, and Harry's head follows the movement again.

"I'm sorry, H," she murmurs, too. "I didn't—"

He shakes his head, burying his forehead on the fabric of her overall, and lifts his hands slightly, just an inch above the back of her knees. Being mindful to not overstep, but also deeply struggling to contain himself.

"Please don't apologize," he says, intentionally keeping his voice down. "You didn't do anything wrong."

She places her hands on the back of his head. Softly and gently. Almost like she's unsure of what she's doing.

"It feels like I did, tho."

"You didn't. I promise you didn't."

Gianna doesn't seem to have an answer for that, and she also doesn't seem to know what to do with her hands. Tapping his hair as if she's trying to figure out where to put them.

Harry brushes his thumbs up and down, just like before — although he's now hesitantly venturing himself on the back of her thighs, and that embarrassingly feels way more dangerous and thrilling than whatever he did with (or to) any other person up until then.

And it seems to have some sort of effect on her, too, because she relaxes underneath him. Her muscles seem to loosen up, and she finally drops the weight of her palms on the back of his head.

Next thing he knows, Gianna's already threading her fingers through his hair. Running her nails over his scalp, and entertaining herself while fiddling with his curls.

Harry smiles, and slows down under her touch. His breathing follows the rhythm of her hands, and his heart is loud and heavy, but it doesn't seem to squash his chest anymore. It's not painful anymore.

Time goes by unnoticed. And it's like the world around them doesn't even exist anymore.

It's good.

And it's new.

And it's peaceful.

And it's refreshing.

So much so that, when Gianna speaks again, even the pain and the sadness in her voice sound lighter.

"I hate myself for calling him," she says, keeping up with the strokes on his head, "and I really don't want to do it again."

Harry nods.

"I'm scared I will anyway, H…"

He squeezes her once, just to let her know he's listening, and then he rummages through his brain, trying to find something useful to say.

He can't say he understands her fear, because he isn't sure he does. What he knows is that he always struggled to say no to Gianna, and that no matter how hard he tried he was never able to let her go. But he can't compare both situations, can he? After all, she never played with his feelings, because she doesn't know about them. Miles, on the other hand, was pretty much aware of the relationship they were in. Miles knew what he was doing, and Miles actively chose to string her along.

So, no, it is not the same thing.

On top of that… Harry can't imagine her calling him out of nowhere. Not when she's so sure she doesn't want him anymore. Not when she's so sure she hates him.

Unless… Well, is she still in love with him? Is that why she thinks she'll go back to him? Because she loves him so much that she'll miss him?

No… C'mon… She doesn't.

Does she?

Shit.

Certainly, it's not his place to answer that, but it doesn't feel like she's in love with the guy. It feels like she's used to being with him, but because she doesn't know anything better.

Besides, he's never seen her so determined to put an end to the relationship. This is the first time he's seen it written all over her face. It's also the first time she's called him because Miles broke up with her, and the first time she even told him it happened. So how… How can she still be so unsure of herself?

Harry pulls away and blinks his eyes open. Adjusting to the bright cool light, and also searching for her eyes.

Gianna slides her hands off his hair and rests them on his shoulders. Holding herself onto him while she tilts her chin down and meets his stare.

"I know you said you called him every other time before, but… Did you also feel like this the other times?"

She frowns, and it's enough for him to already know the answer. Still, he waits for her, and lets her come to a conclusion on her own.

"I don't… Think so? I mean, no. It feels… Different this time."

Fuck yeah it does.

Just look at them!

Harry wants to chuckle, but he knows he can't, and he knows he shouldn't, so he breathes in deeply and shrugs.

"So maybe this time it will be different, yeah?" he asks, then takes a chance and drags his palms another inch further up on the back of her thighs.

Gianna takes a tiny step closer to him, and he's more than happy to take that as a little victory.

"Maybe… But I don't know if I have so much faith in myself."

"Why not, Gi? If you know he's such an idiot, and you know you don't wanna go back to him, why do you still think you will?"

"Because I'm that stupid, H. Because apparently I can't—"

"Stop," he says, and squeezes the back of her thighs

Gianna gasps softly, and widens her eyes.

Shit.

Although Harry always tries to be gentle, he knows his grip ended up being tighter than he originally meant to. He can feel it on the way his nails are digging into her flesh, and on the way he's also flexing his arms.

Part of him wants to apologize and put some distance between them before she can do it herself. Before she realizes what's happening and tell him to fuck off.

The other part, though, knows it's too late to go back from whatever he already did tonight, and that so far the truth is the only road that seems to be actually taking him somewhere.

So Harry straightens up his back and keeps his hands in the exact same place, firm and steady.

He doesn't take anything back, nor pretends it isn't actually happening.

"I can't let you do this to yourself, ok?" he says. "Because you're not stupid."

Gianna blinks.

"You're the most fascinating woman I've ever met," he adds, because now that he's started he doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself anymore. "You're kind, and smart, and creative, and funny."

He loosens up one hand and pulls it away, but only to take it up to her face and brush his thumb under her eyes.

"You're so beautiful, Gi," he says, cleaning some of her smudged makeup.

"So, so beautiful…" He strokes her cheek, and then under her other eye. "That you're just… You're breathtaking."

She blinks again, and again, and again. As if trying to absorb the information not only through her ears, but also through her eyes.

And Harry likes the way she's listening to him, the way she's leaning closer. The way she's softening in front of him. He doesn't know what it means, but he knows he likes it. So he keeps going, choosing to only stop if she asks him to.

"And you're constantly blowing my mind, for whatever reason." He drops his hand again, placing it on the back of her thigh, where it feels they belong now. "Your ideas, your point of views, your actions… Everything, Gi. Everything you do is just… Amazing. You are amazing."

She flickers her eyes around his face, and Harry gives her time to do so. He waits for her. Brushing his thumbs up and down. Subtly caressing the back of her thighs.

"I don't… I don't know what to say."

"It's ok…" He smiles. Softly. Fondly. "You don't have to say anything."

Gianna shrugs. She picks his t-shirt between her fingers, fidgeting with it while still watching him.

"Kinda feels like I have to. I mean, those are… Y'know… Really nice things to say about someone."

"I know. Yes." He smiles bigger, and nods. "Want me to say them again?"

She rolls her eyes, but it's easy to catch the way her mouth tries to curl into a smile as well. Or the way some cheerfulness brightens up her face.

And there she is again…

Harry tilts his head, hooked and charmed by the way she looks. By the woman she is.

Chest warm and fuzzy.

Head over the moon.

Pathetically in love.

"I think very highly of you, Gi."

"You do?"

"Mhmm… You should know that by now."

She drums her fingers on his shoulders, and he brushes his thumbs on the back of her thighs.

"This is… I mean…"

"What?"

"Ugh." She groans, throwing her head back and glancing at the ceiling. "I don't know. I'm just really confused right now."

"Oh. It's... It's ok," he says, eyes suddenly too focused and mind too distracted.

Her neck is pretty, isn't it? And her skin looks the sweetest, softest place he could lay his lips on.

Harry swallows.

He looks down, and meets her chest — which only makes it worse.

Fuck.

He closes his eyes, and shakes his head.

When he looks at her again, she's thankfully already facing down and staring back at him. Making it easier for him to talk again.

"Don't wanna confuse you right now," he says, then clears his throat. "It's not the right time to reveal all of my thoughts about you, anyway."

"All of your thoughts about me? What—How many do you have?"

Harry chuckles. She's so fucking cute.

"Not today, yeah?"

She narrows her eyes. "Harry…"

He shrugs. "Look, all you need to know right now is that you're not stupid. And I know you're scared, but this time you have me by your side, yeah? And I won't let that son of a bitch hurt you again. Ok?"

"I appreciate that, but you don't have to—"

"Gi. Ok?"

She sighs.

"Okay."

"Good."

A beat of silence echoes between them.

Gianna and Harry fill it by staring at each other. Consciously ignoring the fact that time is ticking by. And also ignoring the fact that, although they probably should feel awkward by whatever is going on right now, they actually don't feel awkward at all.

And then clattering and shattering thunder from downstairs, and Gianna and Harry jolt. They both turn their heads to face the door, waiting for something to happen. And when people seem to erupt into desperate cheering and yelling, they both turn again, and look at each other. Again.

"Do you think it'll be okay if I spend the night at yours?" she asks. "Most of my things are at Miles' and I… I don't know. To be honest I don't want to spend the night at my place."

Harry nods. "Yeah, of course. You can sleep back at mine."

He rolls his shoulders, then tilts his head to one side, and to the other.

"Do you think it'll be ok if we leave this place right now, tho?" he asks, brushing his palms up and down the back of her thighs, then sliding them to gently tap the sides of her legs. "Can't stand this place anymore."

"Yeah." Gianna smiles, and squeezes his shoulders. "We should go."

"Great." He squeezes her legs, and brushes his thumbs in wide, slow circles. "Good."

She nods and slides her hands down his shoulders, letting her fingers brush down his chest. "Mhmm…"

"We'll go, then." He spreads his legs even wider and nudges her forward, holding her legs tightly while forcing her to take a step closer.

"We will." She draws her hands back to his shoulders, fully holding onto him. "Whenever you want to."

Harry closes his eyes and leans forward, pressing his face to her stomach, and then a kiss on top of her clothes. Without pulling away, he groans against the green fabric, then murmurs, "You're not making this any easier for me, y'know?"

Gianna chuckles, allowing her hands to timidly explore his back. "I swear to God I have no idea what's going on right now."

He pulls away, tilting his chin up and looking at her. "We'll have plenty of time to figure it out. But right now, let's just get the fuck out of here. Please."

"Okay," she says, and smiles, but doesn't make any attempt to actually move.

"Ugh." He grabs her waist and pushes her off, standing up and stumbling along with her feet as they both step away from the bathtub.

She bites her lip and giggles, and it honestly takes absolutely everything inside him to not kiss her right then and there.

"C'mon," he says, finding her hand and holding it tightly. "Let's take this back to mine."

Hiii :)

Someone sent me a request back in 2022 and I came up with 85% of this. Then last week I decided to finish it and finally post it (always better late than never, huh? hehe).

There are soooo many things I have in mind for this one, so many things I haven't explored yet, and so many things that I intentionally left unanswered... But for now, this right here, is all I have, and I wanted to share it anyway :) I'm basically just challenging myself and my overthinking, so let's hope I don't regret it lol.

ANYWAY, thanks for reading.

Dani.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles au

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vroomvroomcircuit · 2 months

Text

Avocado Allergy

Summary: Max and his girlfriend are learnign to understand each other's love language

Warnings: mentions of an ex cheating, slight mentions of emotional abuse and manipulation as well as love bombing, but there is also a whole lotta fluff to make up for it

Wordcount: 2.1k

🏎Masterlist🏎

______________________ It’s quiet. A drastic change to the noise that happened mere hours earlier.

But Max relishes in that. After feeling like he is on top of the world with a first place trophy in his hands, he loves feeling grounded again. Especially through her.

(Y/N) head lays on his lap while she reads. Both sitting on the couch that the hotel room offers. Upon checking in they joked about trying not to think about what that piece of furniture has already seen.

Max massages her scalp, concentrating on how her eyes move from line to line, taking in the words that will lead her to a whole story eventually.

In this moment, Max feels at peace.

A peace he never thought he would reach.

A peace, where his thoughts are not full of self-deprecation.

A peace, where he feels enough. Secure. Without a worry.

He presses a kiss to his girlfriend’s forehead. “Will you read to me?” His soft voice cuts pleasantly through the silence. (Y/N) smiles and nods, clears her throat and starts to read the words on the pages in front of her out loud.

A peace, they both thought they would never be able to reach. And yet, they are still here. Basking in each other’s presence like it’s their form of ambrosia. Like it’s the only way that makes them invincible to what the world has against them in its pocket.

To get there, to this point, a whole process of understanding each other had to take place first.

It all started during the early days of their relationship.

“I’ll take you out for dinner tonight. Do you want to go for a shopping trip with Victoria for a new dress? You can take my credit card with you.” Max offers as he appears next to his girlfriend on the sofa.

Confused, she takes her eyes off the article she was reading in some magazine that had been laid out on the coffee table. “Is there a special occasion we go out for?”

(Y/N) thinks for herself a few moments. There is not an anniversary approaching. Neither is any of their birthdays. Or a big accomplishment.

So the question is: What did Max do? What will he be apologizing for?

“No reason except for me wanting to have an amazing date night with my even more amazing girlfriend. I just want us to have a good time.” This makes her even more suspicious.

“Oh,” (Y/N) answers, “Sounds like a good idea. But I don’t feel like going out shopping today.”

In reality, she does not want to get a special dress for a night out, just to get told that he cheated on her or that he totaled her car or something similar in that dress. The young woman does not want such negative energy clinging to a piece of fabric that is supposed to be special.

Max presses a kiss to her cheek before getting up again. “No problem, whatever you put on, you’ll be the most beautiful woman. I love you!” Off he goes, probably doing some Max-Verstappen-stuff.

His compliments and love exclamation in combination makes (Y/N) even more nervous for the upcoming dinner. He must have fucked up royally.

Several horror scenarios are going through her mind over and over again while (Y/N) is getting ready.

Did he actually cheat? Would she take him back after a confession like that?

Or maybe he hates her family and wants to tell her that he doesn’t want to spend any more time with them. That she has to decide between him and her family. Can she make that decision again? Would she make the right one this time?

“You look breathtaking.” Max’s eyes begin to sparkle, similar to the eyes of a child upon entering a toy store.

Can this face, the one of a man admiring the current love of his life like she is the most beautiful sight he has ever been blessed enough to put his eyes on, belong to the same person, that will isolate her from her family and friends? That cheats on her and acts like it was her fault for not being there for him 24/7?

For an average person the answer is simple: No, Max is the guy who nearly brought her bridal style to the emergency room because of her period cramps. He is the same one that ran to the store and back in record time to get some ice for the toe she stubbed on a chair leg.

For (Y/N) the answer is also just as simple: Maybe. Because her previous boyfriend also had a pretty face and said I love you. He also went to expensive restaurants and extravagant short trips with her. He took (Y/N) out for designer shopping trips, making her whole family say that she made the right decision by falling in love with that guy.

The same guy, who cheated on her with a close friend and got her some unimportant, but apparently expensive purse. That man, that followed her to the bathroom, giving her compliment after compliment, to make up for all the dates he canceled.

Maybe, they are not the same to the naked eye. But no one really knows what broods under the skin of any person, right?

“What’s going through your pretty head?” Max asks, putting his hand on her thigh while using the other one for the steering wheel. (Y/N) tries to shake his concern off, simply answering with “Oh, nothing much. Just something about work, you know?” But this man never lets up until he gets to the bottom of a problem. “Tell me about it. If it’s bothering you, it can’t be nothing.”

“Why are you taking me out for dinner? What did you do to try and make up for it? Is it in a public space because I can’t make a scene there?” If he wouldn’t have to watch the road, Max would have gotten whiplash by how fast he looked at his girlfriend. “Um, no? I really just want to take you out because you deserve an amazing night out. I genuinely just want to give you a memorable night. But I can turn around and we order something in. I don’t wanna pressure you into doing anything. I know that we can have just as much of a fun night on our couch watching that one show you have been raving about.”

It takes a few minutes for (Y/N) to comprehend what he said. “So, you will not tell me something bad you did? You actually take me out for no reason, no ulterior motive here?” Max caresses her thigh with his hand. “My only motive is wanting to spend some quality time with you.”

And so they did. The couple has a really romantic evening, sharing jokes and laughs over food and candle light, tugged away in a private corner of Max’s chosen restaurant.

This was the first, but unfortunately not the last time (Y/N) has accused the Dutch of having done something horrible.

Whenever he does a grand gesture, gifting her a very nice bracelet or bringing her to a place she has dreamed to see, it is followed by her asking what kind of crime against their relationship code he committed.

It’s starting to take a strain on both of them. “I don’t know what to do”, he vents to his mother over the telephone. “I love her and only her, but (Y/N) somehow has this twisted image of me that I cheated on her or have done something else wrong and want to apologize for that by taking her on vacation or so. I feel like she doesn’t trust me at all!”

The frustration is detectable in his voice. His mother feels bad for her son. “Have you asked her why she suspects something is off? Maybe you gave her a reason for not having her whole trust?” Max thinks about it. He has never really asked. He doesn’t know why.

“I think I’m losing him.” (Y/N) cries to her best friend. They both sit on her couch in her best friend’s apartment. “I’m accusing him of all these things I know that he would never do to me. But whenever he gifts me something expensive I immediately think of my ex and how he did that too, followed by him telling me he totaled my car or made out with some other woman at a party the night before again.”

Her friend looks at (Y/N) with sympathy. “He love bombed you and distorted your whole love map by doing that. You need to tell Max what he did to you. And you both need to work on understanding what the other person needs in order to feel comfortable in the relationship.”

Having been pep talked to, both find the other person in their shared four walls as soon as possible. They sit down and talk about what they need. They open up to each other and try to find compromises.

Later that night, they lie together in bed, cuddled up while some random movie plays in the background to fill the silence. “I have never felt so safe in a relationship than I do ever since we got together” (Y/N) mumbles, drawing shapes and numbers on his arm with her fingers. “I have never been able to be so true to myself while being romantically involved with someone else.”

Max’s heart starts hurting again. While (Y/N) told him about how much her previous boyfriend manipulated her over and over again, trying to win her over with both grand gestures and verbal threats. He gets it, her getting upset over him trying to be the best boyfriend by reading every wish from her lips.

They both learn to understand each other’s love languages. Max loves to spend quality time and by bringing his girlfriend everywhere with him where she could be present, may it be a simple interview where she sits in the background or the big vacation he had planned for the two. (Y/N) is more a lover of the small gestures. A flower there, holding the edge of a table when the other retrieves the fork that has fallen down during dinner here.

Rediscovering how they can love their soulmate best, it feels like diving into a new part of their relationship. They start to feel a deeper connection, a new level to finding each other. It gets to a point where (Y/N) confidently can say she knows Max like the back of her hand. She is better versed in his voice and tone indication than in her favorite songs.

They are out eating at a nice restaurant with a few of the drivers and their partners. It is a nice evening after the intense race weekend they just endured.

“Can I have some of yours?” Max refers to the pasta dish (Y/N) ordered. “Of course”, she smiles and pushes her plate towards him. Max takes a good bite from it, praising his girlfriend’s choice for her dinner. “Can I try yours?” She asks, eyeing his burger. “No.” Max answers shortly after having already taken a bite of his dish.

Lando chokes on his sip of water he just tried to drink. “No? But she just let you try her food. Why don’t you share?” But Max continues to chew his bite, taking his sweet time before answering.

“Do you want me to kill my girlfriend? Because it’s a sure way to do so by letting her have a bite of my burger, since it has avocado on it and she is allergic to that.”

(Y/N) just melts immediately at that. She mentioned her allergy to avocados once in passing to Max while he was making them sandwiches. But he still remembered it, even after it never had come up ever since.

Maybe it’s really not the big things that make you fall in love with a person. Maybe it’s the attention, the eye for the little things, that can make the greater difference.

And maybe this attention is what led to Max not proposing to her in front of a ferris wheel under the light of fireworks but rather in the kitchen of their shared home over a home cooked meal, asking for her hand in marriage on one knee while being shrouded in solitude.

#max verstappen image #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #reader insert #x reader #x fem!reader #max verstappen x fem!reader

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alastor-simp · 2 months

Text

Burnt Out😞 - Alastor x Reader

(We all had one of these days, come on raise your hand 🖐🏻🙋🏻)

Sighhhhhhhhh…it was gonna be one of those days. It was another day in the Hazbin Hotel. Everyone was up and about in the morning, either doing one of Charlie’s exercises or just going about doing their own thing, except you. Laying on your bed, tangled up in blankets, you felt emotionally and physically drained. It was another one of your burnt out sessions. They would come and go, some days being mild and others being rough. Just wasn’t in the mood for anything anymore, so staying in bed and getting through it was a better option.

You made sure to text Charlie that you weren’t going to head down in the lobby and you were gonna stay in your room. She knew about your burnt out days and made sure that you were left alone, but sent Razzle and Dazzle to bring you some food, to make sure you were eating. It was nice that she cared so much, you honestly felt like a burden like this, but Charlie had a heart of gold and wanted to give you the time to feel better. Squishing your face into the pillow, you just stared in the corner of your darken room, letting your mind wonder. They were soon interrupted by a rhythmic knock at the door. Ah, it must be Razzle and Dazzle bringing you breakfast. Turning around on your bed, facing the other way, you yelled out "Come in".

They were both pretty silent, as they didn't really converse a lot with anyone, but they were friendly. Something felt strange as instead of the flapping of wings, there was a hint of static in the air. Huh? Suddenly, your bed shook as someone had taken a sit on it. "Why good morning, my dear! Why are you still in bed? Up and at em!" A static voice rang in the room, causing your body to jump. Turning your head to the side, you spotted a smiling red demon looking down at you. "Al? What are you doing here?" Turning your body back around, you continued to lay with your head on the pillow, eyes gazing up to look at Alastor. His piercing eyes were looking down at you, as his mouth was stretched wide, smiling like a jester. "I noticed your lack of presence when I was in the lobby with the other riff-raff. Charlie kindly told me you were still residing in your room, so I decided to pay a visit! He was still seated on your bed, legs crossed with his hands on his lap. His signature microphone was laying against the bed. "Ah I see" you said as you looked down, going back to staring at the corner of the room again. Alastor raised an eyebrow, pondering your lack of emotion.

Raising both of his hands, he placed his fingers to your lips, moving them up to form a smile. "My dear, its not very productive to be lying in bed and being grummy. Come now, gimme a big smile!" Alastor continued to smile down at you, still holding your lips up. You just gazed up at him, eyes devoid of any emotion, which put off Alastor for a bit. Moving your head side to side, you were able to shake off Al's hands on your face, placing it back against the pillow. "I'm not sad Alastor." Heaving a sigh, your eyes were just staring off into space. "Alastor tilted his head at you, confused at the whole situation. "If you are not sad, then why is there still a frown formed on your lips?" Alastor continued to stare at you, waiting patiently for your answer. Honestly, you expected him to be laughing at your situation, since he enjoyed the suffering of others. His eyes were a dead give away to how he was really feeling, and the eyes that peered down at you were filled with confusion, but also concern.

Heaving a sigh, you lifted your body up, sitting instead of laying, with the blanket still wrapped behind you. "Just feeling a little burnt out at the moment." There was a bit of awkward silence, as neither of you said another word. Al was still looking at you, but his head was tilted again. "Burnt out? Was there a fire in the hotel that occurred during my afternoon stroll?" Al questioned, while inching closer to you, looking to see for any burn marks on you. Heh, that earned a chuckle out of you. Laughing for a bit, you shook your head. "No no there wasn't a fire yesterday Al. Have you never felt burnt out before?" Your question earned a head shake from Al. Figures he had no clue what that meant. This man was giddy as could be everyday. "I'm afraid I have never heard of it before, my dear! Care to enlighten me?"

He inched a bit closer, waiting for your response. Looking down, your mind tried to piece together the correct way to explain it to him. "Well, being burnt out is just my body and mind feeling overloaded with stress, yet instead of being anxious, I become detached. I don't feel depressed nor am I being lazy, but I just feel like an empty shell, like all of my feelings are just sapped away, leaving behind nothing. I don't feel any motivation to do the things I usually enjoy doing. My body is exhausted yet I'm unable to fall asleep. I told Charlie that I get like this some days, so whenever I have an episode, I stay in my room, especially since when I'm burnt out, I kinda wanna isolate myself from everyone. It is a bit confusing to explain, so I hope I was able to narrow it down for you." Finishing your little speech, your lips drew into a tiny smile as your eyes gazed at Alastor.

His eyes were still looking at you with concern, his signature smile turned into a small grin. One of his gloved hands raised to your head, stroking it. "I appreciate the explanation, darling. But, it is detrimental to your health to be staying like this." Rolling your eyes at his words, you flopped back down, smooshing your face against the pillow, lifting the blanket to cover your face. "I'll be fine Al. Don't worry about me. I'm sure you must have stuff to get done especially since you're doing more broadcasts, so don't spend all day worrying about me.”

He didn’t say anything back, so you assumed he just used his powers to teleport out of your room. “Wanna hear a joke about paper? He said in an excited tone. What the hell? Peaking your eyes out, Alastor was still sitting on your bed, smiling down at you, teeth flashing at you. “Um no?” Raising an eyebrow, you wondered what brought this up. Alastor began to chuckle at your response, “Oh that’s fine it’s tear-able!” A laugh track then erupted from his microphone. Staring at Al, you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. "It was terrible." Alastor made a face, like he was offended, but you knew he was just being dramatic. "Ahh well how about this one? What do you call a bear with no teeth?" Tilting your head, you thought about it before shrugging saying you didn't know. "A gummy bear! AHAHAHAHAHA!" He burst into fits of laughter, clearly very amused with his joke.

That was a better one, you thought as you let out a chuckle. Alastor had ventured further up your bed, sitting closer next to you, with his back against the headboard. "Lets see...Ah! What did the ocean say to the sailor?" Gazing up at Al, who was wearing a goofy smile, you laughed a bit before asking what did the ocean say. "Oh nothing my dear, it just waved!" Hehehe...these jokes were so corny that they made you laugh. Little by little, your mood began to improve a bit, the feelings of emptiness were lifting a bit. Getting up, you sat wrapped around your blanket, copying Alastors position. "I have a joke for you." Alastor's ears perked up, leaning in, ready to hear the joke. "Why did the deer go the dentist?" Alastor leaned back, placing a finger under his chin, thinking of the answer. "Hmmm...not sure my dear." Smiling widely, you said, "It had buck teeth." Alastor just stared at you wide eyed, before he burst into fits of laughter, causing the whole bed to shake. It took him a minute to calm down, before he turned back to you. "Haven't heard that one before! Another one to add to my collection!" He gazed at you, while whipping his eyes of the tears caused by how hard he was laughing. "Glad you liked it. Here's another one. What happens when a doctor gets frustrated?" Al's smile grew, very pleased that you had more jokes. "What happens, my dear?" "Well sadly, they lose their patients."

Oh that one really got to him. Al's head flew back in laughter, as he was kicking his legs, along with holding his stomach. You soon followed after him, laughing at his reaction and the joke. Soon the both of you calmed down. Al was taking deep breaths, having lost it from cackling with laughter. His eyes had pin pricks of tears as well, which he was wiping away. "Pant...pant...that was splendid, my dear!" Alastor was gazing into your eyes, smiling kindly at you. Smiling back, you told him that you were happy he liked the jokes. Al's hand slowly moved and placed itself on your cheek. "Feeling more yourself now, my dear?" He rubbed your cheek with his finger, causing you to lean into it. "A bit yeah." Al's eyes were tender. Quite a sight to see, since he never shows that side of him to anyone.

Removing his hand from your face, he raised his hand to snap his fingers. A tray had appeared on your lap. On the tray was a plate of pancakes, your favorite, along with a glass of orange juice and a bowl of strawberries. "Eat up, my dear! Can't have you being starved!" Al smiled at you, leaning back against the head board. Smiling, you dug in, humming happily with how amazing it tasted. His kindness made your heart ache. He was such a mystery, one side he was the feared radio demon, who enjoyed murder and gore, while the other was the Alastor you knew, a goofy man who loved jazz and cooking dishes his mother use to make. Two sides of a same coin, but you like both of them, as long as the murder and gore weren't aimed at you and your friends.

Flushing, you inched a bit closer to Al, who eyed you with curiosity. Slowly, you leaned your head against his shoulder, eyes still focusing on the breakfast, as you would feel super embarrassed to look him in the eye. His body tensed from the contact, having not expected that from you. His eyes were locked on you, eyebrow raised. "Thank you, Alastor." Whispering out a response, you continued to shyly look down, while nibbling on a strawberry. The tension had left his body, and he had leaned into you a bit. He wore a soft smile on his face, as he leaned his head back to place against the board. His hand then placed itself on top of yours, giving it a soft squeeze. "Anytime, my dear!"

~END~

Tagging:

@pepperycookie , @yourdoorisunlocked, @ghostdoodlen, @aceofcards0-0, @jyoongim, @saturnhas82moons, @unholycheesesnack , @luujjvi, @forbidden-sunlight, @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping @danveration , @demoarah, @cookiekyo , @iiotic, @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @alastorsgoldie , @lokis-imaginary-friend , @themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @pawstrey , @futureittomainn , @christinaatyourservice92 , @littledolly2345 , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @angelinevalentine89

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weneeya · 2 months

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One more request, hope you dont mind ^^

Calling bf satoru as husband🫢🤭 accidentally or on purpose

Thanks for the clingy bf!

Domesticity

fluff with Gojo

thank you!! of course I don't mind, request as much as you want to, I'm always happy to answer them <3

You and Satoru had been together for quite a while now. You were both teachers at Jujutsu Tech and everything was going pretty great. Satoru was even more clingy than you though but you didn't care at all, you loved this side of him. It made you feel important and loved.

You were on a mission alone today, and Satoru was in charge of the class with another teacher. She was new here, and she clearly had a crush on your boyfriend. You didn't say anything about it to Satoru who was clearly oblivious, you didn't wanted to create useless problems.

Until you came back from your mission. You were happy to be able to see Satoru, but when you arrived at Jujutsu Tech, this girl was here with him ; and she was a bit too close for you. Your jaw cleched before you decided it was too much.

"Satoru, I'm back!" you said like nothing was happening, a smile on your lips as you arrived close to them. The strongest sorcerer looked at you softly, ready to answer, but you left a peck on his lips before he could say anything.

"How's my amazing husband?" you said, still acting like everything was normal. Silence could be heard before the other teacher cleared her throat, pretexting to have something to do so she could leave quickly, a bit ashamed.

Satoru was still looking at you, completely silent as you were looking at the girl who was leaving. You turned to face him again, and before you could say a word, he grabbed your waist to pull you closer to him. A smirk appeared on his lips, as he was looking at you through his glasses.

"Say that again," he said, apparently excepting for you to call him your husband one more time. You looked away for a moment, feeling your cheeks burning slightly.

"What? That you're my husband?" a soft laugh left his lips, before he nodded. He left a kiss on your cheek, before rubbing his nose against it slowly.

"Sounds good. Maybe we should make it real." your eyes widened for a second, but you quickly put your arms around his neck, closing your eyes at his touch, a slight smile on your lips. Maybe it was a better idea than you thought.

omg domestic satoru is making me so happy pls never stop requesting fluff stuff

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo headcanons #gojo hcs #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs

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awearywritersworld · 10 months

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Ryomen Sukuna x Reader summary: you're cuddling in bed with your very sleepy boyfriend, except he's not exactly your very sleepy boyfriend w/c: .75k tags/warnings: somewhat suggestive but not smut. praise. "good girl" but no other reference to gender. fluff. "kitten" i can't help myself. aged up!yuuji a/n: idek! wrote this in an attempt to get inspired and to let everyone know im still alive, kicking, and most importantly, suffering from sukuna brain rot. currently rewatching so this is brought to u by s1e4. masterlist

Your favorite place to be, even after all this time, is Yuuji's arms. His embrace is warm and inviting, and it never fails to put your mind at ease, even with Sukuna in the picture. You've known him for as long as you've known Yuuji, but his snide, snarky comments never deterred your love for his vessel.

Though, after many long months, his commentary became more... unassuming? At least when you were around, anyway. The first time it happened, you'd asked Yuuji if he knew where you left your phone.

"It's on the couch," another voice answered.

You and your boyfriend stared at each other with raised brows before your eyes shifted down to ever abiding mouth on his cheek.

"What?" Sukuna actually grumbled before disappearing.

It's been a while since then. You're resting against Yuuji's chest, his arm snaked around your waist, his breathing deep and steady. Sleep nearly overcomes you, but his chest vibrates with words you're not quite able to make out and it just barely tugs you back to consciousness.

You hum drowsily, your hands grabbing at his sweatshirt in a weak attempt to pull him nearer.

"That's it," he encourages, drawing you impossibly closer.

The small noises you make as you situate yourself have the man exhaling just a little more harshly than before.

"Want me to praise you?" he offers, a sly edge to his voice. It's only then your mind registers that something is... off. This voice is more intense than the one you're used to. "It's obvious you like it when the brat tells you what a good girl you are."

Your eyes snap open, the top of your head nearly colliding with his chin as you pull back from him. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you're unable to help the small gasp that passes your lips as you take in your boyfriend's changed appearance.

"W-What the hell, Sukuna?"

There's a lazy smirk on his face and his hand settles on your hip like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"He's right, you know."

"What are you even on about? It's too late for this shit" you remark, free hand rubbing at your eyelids in an attempt to wake yourself up.

Despite Sukuna never having randomly appeared before, you're not intimidated. Well, not terribly so, even if the man before you is of infamous legend. These days his voice is a constant in your life and that keeps you from registering the possible (probable?) danger of your current situation.

"I was trying to tell you how pretty you are."

"Oh," you squeak out, warmth creeping from your neck toward your cheeks. He chuckles, but you're uncertain whether or not he's teasing you.

His fingers trail up your waist, his touch just barely grazing the skin there before catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Hm, and so sweet too." His thumb extends to brush against your bottom lip.

The contact leaves your stomach swirling with one too many emotions and your hand reaches up to his bicep, as if the action might stop anything else from being said or done.

It doesn't.

He moves his arm from your grasp, but only so that he can wrap his fingers around your wrist. You finally meet his lidded gaze as he brings the inside of your wrist to his lips, peppering a few light kisses there. "So that means you're a very good girl, don't you think?"

His tone is even and low, unfeigned in a way that makes you shudder. The whole situation has you shifting restlessly and averting your gaze.

"Why are you...?" Your voice is barely above a whisper and you're incapable of figuring out a way to describe what was happening at the present moment.

He takes a few seconds before answering, studying how you've pulled your bottom lip between your teeth with a furrowed brow.

His voice quiets to match your own. "Is Yuuji the only one who can concern himself with your happiness?"

You attempt to mask the surprise that threatens your features, but still glance up at him with widened eyes. A momentary silence falls between the two of you and there's an air of suspense to it.

"I never said that."

That must be answer enough, as he tugs you back to his chest once more. You let him envelop you with ease and tangle your legs between his.

"Then stop worrying and go back to sleep, kitten."

#m!writes #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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116t98 · 6 months

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My Heartsteel Headcanons

(Except they’re real things real kpop idols really did)

The guys solve all their problems/make all their decisions by playing rock, paper, scissors. Ezreal always loses

Except for that one time when he didn’t, and he literally got down on his knees and thanked God for him finally not losing

(Yone was the one who lost that time, btw)

Kayn ripped his pants in the middle of a televised performance

While playing charades, the others try (and fail) to make Yone guess “luggage”. A few minutes later, he’s only able to guess the word after Sett (with Aphelios’s help) pretends to be a luggage bag

Kayn can play “Mary Had a little Lamb” on the recorder with his nose. Yone asked if he could play something else, which promoted him to immediately play “My Heart Will Go On”

Ezreal told their fans during a live concert performance that he used to have a really nice jacket that he wore for some performances… until one of his stylists accidentally left it on a lighting device

Long story short, his Gucci burned

Sett cries at the end of every concert

A fan once left a comment during an Instagram live that read “I’m crying in the club”, and Yone immediately responded with “you’re in the club?”

Aphelios can perfectly forge all of his bandmates’s signatures; he’s signed Heartsteel memorabilia with everyone’s signatures before, without anyone else knowing

Ezreal yelled at Sett on TV for wearing insoles in his shoes even though he’s already tall

They like to play games during their concerts, like limbo and “who can unravel a roll of toilet paper the fastest?” (it’s K’sante, but Sett’s a close second)

When he first debuted, Ezreal promoted himself by passing out mints to strangers and asking them to listen to his song

Yone wasn’t able to join the others for a live stream once, so they called him to chat for a bit. Aphelios thought it be funny to hang up on Yone as soon as he answered the phone

He was right

Kayn once showed up to the airport wearing a dog head mask

During an encore performance, the guys decided to have a push up contest while they sang

(Sett swears he won, but everyone else begs to differ)

K’sante once mentioned during a TV interview that Kayn didn’t want to watch a movie with him bc he “doesn’t like watching movies”, which got Kayn (who didn’t want to look bad in front of any movie producers who were potentially watching) so worked up, he threw a pen at the table they were seated at… which bounced right into Yone’s eye

While he was promoting his debut song, Ezreal’s brightly colored stage outfits became a meme after he compared them to different kinds of Listerine online. The meme gained so much traction, Listerine actually sent him boxfuls of mouthwash and a customized cake decorated with some fondant Listerine bottles and a sugar doll version of himself on top

The guys tease Alune a lot. Like, a lot. Sett even once jokingly asked their fans to help them set Alune up on a date bc “she’s always solo” and “it’s so sad 🥺” (pray for her u guys)

K’sante accidentally knocked the head off of a department store mannequin

After watching one of their performances, the CEO of their record label complimented the group members individually, telling them things like “your voice is good”, “you look great”, “keep it up”, etc. But, according to Kayn, the CEO only told him: “your forehead’s wide, so you’ll succeed” (wtf does that even mean??)

Kayn and Ezreal had a Twitter war where they enlisted the help of their fans to Photoshop dumb memes of the other using whatever unflattering images of themselves could be found online

Sett has a habit of napping wherever he can. The guys take advantage of the opportunity by taking pictures of themselves posing around him while he’s asleep; some favorites include K’sante standing above him to recreate “The Creation of Adam”, Aphelios putting q-tips on his mouth, and Ezreal stacking random things on his chest

For his birthday, K’sante was surprised with a birthday cake at the end of their concert. As soon as he blew out the candles, the guys shoved him face-first into the cake. He then proceeded to chase them all down, lobbing chunks of the remaining cake at them

An interviewer once said “Ezreal’s not big” (referring to his height). Ezreal responded by saying, “how do you know I’m not big? 😏” (not referring to his height)

Aphelios choked on his water when he heard Ezreal tell a different interviewer “I’m an innocent boy” (he absolutely isn’t). As he choked, Sett told him to “watch out, babe”

Ezreal told Ernest to leave the frame of a video they were filming, but he spoke the command in Korean (I hc that he’s trilingual). When Ernest actually obeys the command, Kayn asks, in the most incredulous way ever, “your dog speaks Korean??”

*Sett promoting their music to random strangers*: “You want to be happy? Buy the CD! From Riot, listen in your MP3! You are not you and I am not me, bc we are one big family! 😁”

The guys once left Sett and K’sante behind at a gas station at night

Aphelios wrote Ezreal a heartfelt letter, written in Hangul, that he requested to be read during a live performance. Ezreal read the letter out loud; it started out well, until he realized that he recognized the words

He’d know the lyrics to the Sailor Moon theme song anywhere

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sanjisboyfie · 6 months

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shanks being your doting boyfriend

(slightly himbo) shanks x male reader

NOT PROOFREAD mb. small, slight manga spoilers??? sorry guys + LMFAO i hadto ctrl + f every single time i used "arms" and switch it to "arm" also im so soorrryyyy its kinda rlly short.....forgive me also idc???? if this seems ooc to me shanks is just a silly lil guy.

— oh god. the power you hold. you actually singlehandedly could change the course of the entire one piece universe if you wanted to. why??? because one of the four emperors of the sea follows everrything you say like a lost puppy. he hangs off of every word that leaves your lips with a dumb, lovesick grin on his face. his head is empty, just thoughts of you. good thing you use this power of yours for good and keep this man HUMBLE.

"[name], can you please tell your idiot boyfriend to just do the dishes, i can't-"

"beckkkkkk, why are you bothering me and my boyfriend's personal time together?" shanks whined, little spooning his way into your side. his stubble was scratching your skin, making you itchy around your neck and shoulder, especially with the way he was so aggressively nuzzling his head. "we haven't even woken up yet,"

"yeah, and you were supposed to be on cleaning duty last night and you instead chose to spend that time coddling [name], so look where we are now,"

"i'm the captain, goddammit! why do i have to do something like cleaning duty?"

"ask [name], he made that rule,"

shanks' aggressive demeanor turned into putty as he pouted at you. it was not a fitting expression for someone that had a reputation like his and also his age (too old to be acting like a kid).

"babbbbyyy, why are you making us spend less time together? is it because you hate me?"

"shanks, just go fucking do some cleaning in the kitchen. it's a shit show and it's pissing me and the chefs off. get a grip, babe," you scolded, pushing his pouting face away from your own.

with a look of hesitation, shanks finally backed off and got out of bed. as he was putting on a proper pair of trousers on, he was muttering about his own boyfriend was bullying him. his comments went ignored by both you and beck — who was watching with a look of disbelief on his face.

to see his best friend, captain, and one of the four emperors of the sea so easily swayed into doing chores was something he doesn't think he'd ever get used to. no matter how long you and shanks have been together, seeing the red head so obediently follow orders was infathomable.

— shanks -> really intimidating status as captain of the red hair pirates -> turns into complete mush when you walk into the room. without fail, he physically deflates into whatever seat he's sitting in and holds his arm out to you invitingly, waiting for you to sit on his lap.

shanks was supposed to be in serious mode. he was sitting in front of some pretty high ranked marine officials, who were after his crews' heads. he wasn't the type to hold hostages, just to let them go back running to their navy base, but considering the crew was on a vacation of sorts, he needed to know how they were able to track them down.

it lingered in his mind that there was a chance there was a mole in their ranks, but he didn't want to accept that as it would be a painful reality.

"so, how did you know we'd be at this island to recover?" shanks questioned, eyes glaring holes into the marines' faces. they were shaking where they sat, except for one who tried holding a tough demeanor. "i'm not going to do anything to you if you just answer my question,"

just as the marine was about to spill all their information out, the door of the room they were in was slammed open. shanks' haki faltered slightly as he was able to recognize that it was you, and with that imbalance, it sent the marine officers over the edge and made them pass out instead.

you took in the scene, bleakly apologizing for interuppting. shanks didn't have the heart to scold you, so instead he just took you into his arm with a wide grin and said, "no, no, it's alright. i was beginning to miss you anyway, doll. was wondering why you weren't with me," he pouted into your skin, making you laugh.

"turns out one of the lackeys you let on board recently was the reason why these guys showed up out of nowhere," you informed your lover, who hummed in interest, "took a while, but was able to get him to crack under pressure."

shanks sighed in content, hugging you even tighter, "i love you so much, you're so sexy when you take control,"

another laugh escaped your lips as you heard your boyfriend almost drunkenly sing you praises, "it was nothing, the guy had zero resolve anyway,"

"you're so amazing, baby," he continued complimenting into your skin, acting as if there weren't three passed out marine officers in front of you two.

a couple of the lackeys of the crew came bounding into the room and almost froze when they saw their intimidating captain cuddling into your side like an eager puppy.

"u-uhm, captain?" shanks only hummed in acknowledgement as he held you tight to his side. "what do you want us to do with these guys and that bastard traitor?"

"oh, just keep them tied up and then leave them on the shore when we depart — they probably won't survive with all the wildlife around here," shanks hummed, waving his hand dismissively. you were standing in between his legs and he was relishing in the skinship you were allowing him.

"should we tell the rest that we will be setting sail soon then?"

this time you interjected, "yeah, i'll come with you, boys. i'll make moving the bodies easier."

the crew's face lightened up at your familiar kind behavior, but then stiffened when they heard a groan coming from shanks.

"but [name]!! these guys got it, just stay with me longer, please,"

"oh, shut up, idiot. just go back to the main event and lift up the spirits of our crew, they probably wanna hear words from their captain after such a traitorous bastard infiltrated us,"

shanks sighed at your mini lecture, but dragged himself to follow your footsteps. he was holding onto your hand and his feet were practically stomping into the wood.

"who even made me captain, i never asked for this," he sighed, making the crew weakly laugh to fill the awkward silence while you just tried apologizing for your boyfriend, and captain's, idiotic behavior.

— shanks really cherishes the alone time he can spend with you. living your lives as highly wanted pirates makes your daily life hectic. and, thankfully, the foundations of your relationship only led to you two being able to keep that strong trust, respect, and love for each other so alive.

it was nighttime and the ship was rocking ever so slightly with the waves. for once, you switched cuddling positions and had your head resting on shanks' chest. your fingers were drawing mindless shapes on the exposed skin while shanks' arm was squeezing your plushy flesh every now and then.

"you know, i love you so much, right?" he confessed into the night air, the genuineness of his emotions being made obvious with how softly he spoke.

"i love you too," you easily said back, not thinking twice.

"but, do you know i love you?" shanks repeated, sitting up and holding onto your waist to make sure all your attention was directed on him, "i know our lives don't make our lifestyle easier and i know i get really busy when times get rough, but i needed to tell you again that i love you so much [name]."

you grinned at his sincerity, leaning forward and pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his chapped lips. he reciprocated in a second's notice, but you pulled away before he could deepen it (as he usually did whenever you two kissed).

"i know you love me shanks, you are the sweetest lover i can think of. your kindness and humanity remind me everyday that this life is worth living if it's with you," shanks smiled at your words, nudging his forehead against yours to entice you to pull in closer to him.

your lips locked once more in a passionate filled kiss. your bare chests were now skin to skin with one another and it took a couple minutes of desperate kissing for shanks to be satisfied.

and when you finally pulled away and settled back onto his chest, he squeezed you once more and asked, "you've had other lovers besides me?" in reference to what you said earlier.

cue an eyeroll and pinch to his sides to make him shut his pretty mouth for some needed peace and quiet.

#one piece x male reader #x male reader #male reader #one piece imagines #one piece #shanks x male reader #shanks x reader #shanks imagines #one piece shanks #one piece shanks x male reader #one piece shanks imagines

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freak-accident419 · 11 days

Text

That’s A Wrap

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Derek are pornstars. Filming your next video, things start to go wrong and you two just end up messing around and having a laugh together. However, as your laughs diminishes, things begin to become increasingly intimate between the two of you.

Word Count: 3.5k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, pornstar!derek danforth, pornstar!reader, pornography/filming, messing around/joking about dicks, movie references, humor, hand/blowjob, oral (m and reader receiving), unprotected (comtrary to the title lmao) penetration (no specified genitals for reader), creampie, lovemaking afterward, Heelys (thank you @laurrrelise <3 ily), porn with plot except the plot is porn, slightly ooc derek, slight fluff

“Here, set the tripod—”

“Hold on, it’s—wait—”

“No, just—wait, let me do it—”

After an excruciatingly long while, you and Derek were finally able to correct the camera’s position on the tripod, obtaining the perfect view of the bed.

Being pretty well-known pornstars for your acclaimed couple sex filmography, you and Derek have made easy money through this collaborative career. You have had several subscribers, views, and positive ratings ever since you first started (which was probably around two years ago). The fact that you were a real couple and had a fair amount of authentic, raw, and innovative videos made your channels gain much traction and praise.

The two of you were already fully undressed on the bed in front of the camera. You reached over and clicked the button to start recording. Derek laid on his back collectedly and you went down between his legs, your face in front of his cock.

“You ready?” You giggle slightly before wrapping your hand gently around his dick, moving it up and down along his shaft. He already nodded, which gave you the cue to put your mouth around him, sucking his head as your hand moved. But then—

Huh.

You suddenly pulled your mouth off with a ‘pop’ and groaned impatiently.

“What is it?” Derek asked, looking down at you.

“There was—fuck—there’s a hair in my mouth,” you say, struggling to get it out. “Fuck.”

After a while, you finally removed it from your tongue with your fingers and rolled your eyes, pumping him once again with your hand. “It’s out?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s out,” you answer with a faint chuckle, continuing to stroke him with one hand while the other tucked some strands of hair behind your ears. Then your hand finally pulled away from his dick, making you notice something dire. “Dude! You’re soft!”

He just looked at you quietly, but you could see some smugness, or at least amusement in his face.

“You’ve been soft the whole time and you knew we were gonna film? C’mon, man!” You complain with a light chuckle, starting your hand movements along his shaft again.

“Just hold on, it’s the dick, not me!” He protested.

“Oh, my god,” you mumble under your breath. “‘Ello?” You shouted frustratedly at his dick, slapping his thigh lightly, “zhis is your wake up call!” Your delivery was in a mocking French accent, making you laugh hysterically, resting your head on his thigh. Derek would usually get hard immediately, especially on occasions where he’d hear your adorable laughter, but for some reason, today in particular, it’s taking him a while.

In response to your allusion, he met you with silence, looking at you with confusion, yet also with a growing smile.

“C’mon! The Swan Princess?” You gasp in disbelief at the thought of him not being familiar with the movie you had referenced earlier. “1994?” You sang in a high-pitched mocking tone, “‘Derek, you and I, were meant tooo beeee…’ Even one of the character’s name is fucking Derek! No? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

“I have never heard of that movie in my lif—”

You gasp loudly again, slapping his thigh playfully. “You uncultured bitch! That movie was, like, my childhood! Derek, you are aware that I can easily just, like, rip off your dick right now, right? Like,” you made a gesture with your fist, jerking it out to mock the action. “Pow!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault! I just didn’t watch that kind of shit when I was a kid,” he reasons, fucking giggling at your hostility.

“Oh, okay, so—so what I’m hearing is—you didn’t have a normal childhood,” you retort with raised, knowing brow.

“What? Of course I had a normal childhood!” He exclaimed defensively.

“Right, right, but you probably got picked up from school in a goddamn helicopter, you fuckin’ nepo baby,” you teased with a faint smirk.

“Hey, I did not—” Derek cut himself off, “It was one time, and in my defense, it was an emergency,” he mumbled.

“What was the emergency, you wet your pants?” you giggle, lightly slapping his thigh again and getting a playful groan out of him. “Fuck, why is your dick still down? C’mon, man! Rise! Rise, my glorious creation, rise!” You cackled, laughing as your hand still gripped his cock, your head resting on his thigh, trying to sustain your laughter.

“Was that fucking Megamind?” Derek gaped as you accidentally drooled on his thigh from laughing too much.

“Oh, so you do have a little culture in you.” You bring your head up, wiping your mouth and grinned at him, starting your strokes once again. “Okay, okay. No more bullshit, let’s—let’s film this thing.” You pause frustratedly as you watched your hand move up and down his cock. “If only you could get hard, fuck! ¡Levántate, chorizo! Fuck!” You cackle, eyeing the camera, then looking back at Derek.

“Testing, testing, one, two, three, is this thing on?” You say ‘into’ the head of his cock as if it was a microphone, even tapping it lightly with your fingers. His dick was still limp in your hand, even though Derek couldn’t help but be turned on by your playfulness. “What do you call a cheap circumcision?”

You wait for comedic pause.

“A rip off.”

There was a slight pause before the two of you burst out laughing, Derek laughing at your stupid joke as he stroked your hair with his hand. “Oh my fucking god, Y/n,” he huffed, yet couldn’t help but smile. “You are fucking impossible, you know that?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll start, I’ll start,” you giggle. “I’ll be serious this time! You’re not, like, turned off or anything, are you?”

“No. At this point, I don’t think there’s anything you can do to turn me off,” he recalls with a soft chuckle, slightly caressing your hair.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he says, “I think I’ve become desensitized to your antics ever since the fruit roll-up incident.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh, letting your head flop down on his thigh, trying your absolute best to withhold it, yet of course, failing. “Okay, okay! Serious, I’ll be serious now.”

You begin to press gentle kisses to the soft, pink head of his cock, moving your hand slowly along up shaft. Then you kissed at his thighs as well, slightly removing your hand off his cock to leave small kisses up his length, tickling his faint veins with the tip of your tongue. You heard soft, quiet moans escape his lips as you did so, chuckling to yourself as you continued. Leaving more kisses, you lapped your tongue at his frenulum, gaining a louder noise from him. You chuckled to yourself as you saw him finally get fully hard.

“Fina-fucking-lly, thank god,” you huff in relief. “Holy shit, you’re hard as a fucking rock” you add, stroking him faster in your palm, sucking onto his head again before pulling away and switching positions, laying down on your back.

“We’re gonna have to crop out so much shit from this video, fuck,” he chuckles softly as he lines himself up at your entrance.

“Hey, no, you can keep stuff in, our fans love whenever we joke around with each other!” You exclaim giddily as Derek rolls his eyes from amusement. “Hey, we should just, like, make a compilation of our outtakes, like—like a blooper reel!”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow as his hands were placed on your thighs, lightly stroking them and spreading them apart in the process. “Bloopers?”

“Yeah, man! People love that shit. You know how when people cum after watching porn and they just feel, like, really dirty and the existential crisis just comes in, like—if there are bloopers at the end of the video, they’ll have something to laugh at, you know? Make us seem more human and therefore, make them feel human again after feeling like creeps,” you explain, surprisingly intricately, as you look up at Derek with an ecstatic grin.

“Okay, you do have a point, maybe you’re onto something,” he smiles, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. “Ready, baby?” It was a husky, low mutter, immediately turning you on.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod, letting out a soft gasp as you feel his tip tease your entrance, rubbing it up and down your hole, each time threatening to penetrate it. Your eyes moved to the camera lens with a desperate look on your face, patient, yet seductive, low whines escaping your lips.

One of Derek’s hands were holding onto the leg on his shoulder, and the other one gripped on your own shoulder, slowly pushing his cock in through your entrance, getting a soft moan out from the two of you. He began thrusting slowly, emitting occasional wet squelches before he starts to move his hips faster on yours, filling the room with echoed slaps against skin.

You let out loud, high-pitched, pornographic moans that were, of course, exaggerated for the video as you looked into the camera, then back up into Derek’s eyes. While you didn’t have to fake anything for the most part, the porn industry and algorithms were a bit complicated, so to appeal to a wider audience, things had to be a little more exaggerated and ‘sexier’.

Yet, not even after a split second, you burst out laughing which made Derek cease his thrusts, looking at you with utter confusion.

“Y/n, what—”

“I’m sorry, Derek, I can’t take shit seriously today!” You exclaim, cackling loudly in the room as he pulls out of you, laying your leg back down.

“Oh, my fucking god,” he grumbles, except there was a hint of amusement in his tone. “You are—You are fucking ridiculous,” Derek claims as he slaps your thigh playfully. But then he leaned in, kissing your lips softly, trailing them down to your neck and nibbling certain, ticklish areas that got a quiet moan out of you. “You gonna behave now, darling?”

It was difficult to suppress your giggles. “No, probably not,” you answer, cackling. Holy shit, it was like you were on fucking laughing gas.

“Oh my fucking god!” He complains with a slight grin on his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you right now, Y/n?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed apologetically, yet laughing at the same time. “I can’t, I can’t! Okay, okay, fuck, let’s do this, I’ll comply—I’ll comply!”

“Fucking shit,” he mutters, continuing to press soft kisses up your neck and collarbone. “You’re so fucking annoying,” he jokes, and before you could say anything, his lips silenced yours in a passionate, soft kiss. You hum pleasantly in the kiss, feeling his gentle lips moving with yours, his tongue parting them to explore and taste your mouth. You tangle his hair in your fingers when you place your hands behind his head, feeling his own hands grip your waist.

Then his lips finally parted from yours, peppering butterfly kisses down your neck, to your collarbone, then to your chest, all the way down to your groin. Derek gently spread out your thighs, his fingernails digging lightly in the plush skin. He looked up at you and grinned to himself, finally lapping his tongue at your sensitive areas. You begin to moan in response, feeling the pleasure that your partner offered.

“So fucking beautiful, baby,” he muttered under his breath as he continued with his tongue, kissing at the area as well. “So damn frustrating ‘n annoying, but so fucking gorgeous, fuck…”

“O-oh, fuck… f-fuck, Derek, ah…” you whimper quietly as he continued with his intricate tongue.

Derek then pulled his mouth away, hovering above you, grabbing your legs gently to guide them around his hips. Leaning down to kiss your forehead and your lips, he finally and slowly pushed his hard cock through your tight, desperate entrance, beginning to moan as you feel his girth stretch your sensitive, fleshy walls, pushing further and further inside of you. He was being very gentle as well, pressing his lips onto yours as his hips were touching yours, then finally thrusted out slowly. “G—Oh, god,” you pant.

His hips then pushed back in until he thrusted at a steady pace, letting out quiet grunts as your own sounds increased. Your legs tightened around his hips as he gripped harsher on your thighs, gradually increasing his speed. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbles, rocking his hips into yours, “you’re doing so good for me.”

At this point, you forgot that there was a camera beside you.

It happens all the time, you forgetting, because you’re so wrapped up in the sex you were having with your partner, of course. But for some reason, this felt a bit different. It felt more intimate.

You were panting, letting out silent whines and occasional moans as he moved inside of you, pleasuring you with his cock. Then suddenly, with one hand, he reached down and touched you, holding onto your thighs tightly to thrust into you while pleasuring another sensitive area of yours with his fingers.

“F-fuck!” You whine as your breathing quickens, beginning to moan more prominently.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, crying around my fucking cock,” he grunts, his pace increasing as you feel his speed stimulating your walls. “Fuck, you’re so amazing. So fucking tight. Feels so good around me.”

“O-oh, god!” You exclaim before you start to moan more frequently and loudly, your sounds echoing in the room as Derek goes deeper and faster inside of you. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filled the atmosphere, accompanied by increasing wet squelches and moans from Derek now as well. His balls slapped against the bottom of your ass every time he thrusted in, every sensation encouraging Derek to go even faster.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer with every harsh thrust. He then hooked his arms under yours, gripping onto your shoulders from the back, bringing his body closer to yours to kiss your neck, essentially tackling it with his tongue. You brought your hands up to his back, digging your fingernails in his skin and moaning softly and passionately, hearing his voice falter as well.

“I’m cumming!” You whine, breathing and moaning heavily, clenching around him. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum!”

“Fuck!” He groans, continuing to push you to the edge with his cock, driving you closer and closer to your sweet orgasm. “That’s it, baby, cum for me, sweetheart, f-fuck—”

Your hips move quickly together, causing friction against your pelvis as Derek attempted to keep thrusting at a deeper and faster pace. And with one final buck of his hips, your body stiffened and—

“A-ahhhhh!” You moaned exuberantly, releasing from the ecstatic sensations, your hips against his slightly twitching, as well as your thighs. “F-fuck, Derek, a-ahh!”

“F-fuck—” Derek groaned as he thrusted a few more times before cumming deeply inside of you, spurts of his warm, white semen spilling into and painting your walls. “G-god, Y/n, ah-ahhh—fuck!” He moans as his body became stiff after making sure he was essentially balls deep inside before collapsing on top of you, breathing heavily.

You panted, letting out a few small whimpers after coming down from your high, until you felt Derek’s hands begin to caress your face and play with a piece of your hair between your fingers in loving curiosity. Then he pulls his cock out of you, leaving kisses at your neck, chest, then stomach as he moved his body down between your legs. He watched his cum slowly and satisfyingly gush out of your hole, letting out an instinctive moan, pecking your thigh with his lips. Then he slipped in his middle and ring finger through your seeping entrance, pushing his ejaculate deeply back inside of you, increasing your heavy breaths and remaining, quiet whines. After he was satisfied, Derek pressed an innocent kiss to your most sensitive spot then sucked his fingers clean before moving back up to meet your eyes, kissing your lips passionately and sweetly, legs tangling together.

“I love you,” he whispered in your ear before kissing you again affectionately, touching your sides with his soft, gentle palms.

“I love you too,” you muttered with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him back giddily.

You laid there together for a while, Derek’s head nuzzling your neck. You were still fairly tired in the aftermath of your orgasm, breathing heavily and panting together as you start to acknowledge the smell of sex filling the atmosphere. Then you looked to your right and chuckled softly under your breath.

“Camera’s still rolling,” you say quietly with a raised eyebrow as Derek moves his head out of your neck.

“Oh shit,” he says, leaving your body for a split second to press the button on the camera across the bed. You giggled as you watched him do this, laying on top of you right after.

“We’ll, uh, schedule its upload on Saturday,” he says, kissing your cheek then placing his head back in your neck. He was truly infatuated with you.

“I totally forgot we were even filming a porno,” you scoff playfully as you rubbed his back and occasionally played with his soft curls.

“Yeah,” he breathes, caressing your skin once more. “Yeah, actually. You know, it almost feels—”

“Too personal, yeah,” you say, finishing his sentence. The two of you reflected the past moment and thought about every aspect of it. How you started off making several jokes, laughing together, before ultimately making sweet love. And while you’ve mostly always did couple lovemaking pornos for your content, this one in particular felt almost too personal. Like, you’ve posted mostly all of the things you two filmed together, and to have something so intimate and so pure on camera… you wanted to keep it to yourself.

He pops his head up from your neck and looks at you curiously. “You don’t wanna post it, huh?”

He knew you too well.

“Well, you know. It was very… intimate. Like, too intimate and too personal, I kinda wanna… I don’t know… Keep it to ourselves. Like, the public already has enough of our sex tapes, I kinda just want something of our own together, you know?” You explain, watching his gentle, hazel eyes as he processed your words.

“Yeah, no, definitely, I agree, baby,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then began to pepper some kisses on your neck. “It was way too… authentic. And, like, we post the most authentic shit,” he chuckles. “You’re right, we should just keep this for ourselves. We could probably just post a blooper compilation in the meantime.”

“Oh my god, seriously? You’re gonna do my idea?” You beam, gaining a snicker from Derek’s throat.

“Hey, I thought about it, it’s a great idea. The perverts don’t have to feel too much of a pervert when they see us just fucking around, being human,” he giggles as you felt your neck tickle from the relentlessness of his tongue.

His phone on the nightstand buzzed, making him groan slightly and reach for it, looking at his notification.

“Fuck,” he says.

“What?”

“Fuck!”

You were confused. “D—”

“I have a meeting to go to, fuck,” he answered, kissing your lips quickly, getting off of you as he tried to retrieve his clothes.

“What the fuck, Derek, I thought you said your schedule was clear this whole day,” you frown, sitting up slightly against the bed frame as you watched him put his clothes back on.

“Well, turns out that was tomorrow. I have a fuckin’ meeting with these, like, international dudes, I don’t fuckin’ know,” Derek mumbles, buttoning up his shirt, then reaching down on the ground for his shoes. “I’m sorry, baby. I really wanted to lay with you the whole day,” he apologizes with a shameful sigh.

“It’s okay, baby. We could always—”

You stopped in your tracks.

“Are those fucking Heelys?”

Watching him glide to the desk to retrieve his wristwatch made you physically cringe, looking at him in disbelief with an open mouth.

He looked at you curiously while putting on his watch. “Uh, yeah, they are, why?”

You stifle your laughs. “Oh my fucking god, you’re ridiculous, babe.”

“What? What’s wrong with Heelys?”

“Nothing. Everything,” you reply, snickers beginning to leave your lips. “It’s just… You just made love to me, came balls deep inside of me on camera, and now you’re just—gliding around the room with fucking Heelys, holy shit.”

He pursed his lips then nodded with a slight, knowing smirk. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“You are ridiculous!” You exclaim amusedly. With his Heelys, he rolled towards you, and you began to giggle and laugh after he pulled the sheets off of your torso, covering your belly in several, ticklish kisses. “Fuck, stop that!” You cackle, squirming around and trying to push him away.

You two share one more long, passionate kiss on the lips as he smiles at you, walking towards the door afterwards. “See you when I get back, baby,” he chuckles with giddy after seeing your adorable state.

“Mm, don’t party too hard,” you joke with a smirk.

“Oh, please, the closest thing to a party that those old fucks have to offer is their shitty ass wine,” he scoffs with a cocky grin.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Don’t be long.”

“I’ll be back before you know it. And hey, maybe we could try to film another one?” He raises an eyebrow once he opens the door, still looking back at you.

“Deal,” you grin. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

#derek danforth #the beekeeper #the beekeeper fanfic #the beekeeper movie #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth x gn!reader #derek danforth x you #gender neutral #derek danforth smut #derek danforth fluff #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #clapton davis #josh futturman #josh futturman smut #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson x reader

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