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sweetestdesire · 24 days

Text

A VIEW TO REMEMBER

WARNINGS: hair pulling, extreme domination, mentions of masturbation, degrading speech, etc. 18+ readers only

PAIRING(S): Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Quinn Hughes accidentally walks in on Fem!Reader during a private moment.

Y/N knew love was a lot less feelings and a lot more work. She wasn’t foolish enough to think feelings were enough to make things work out, and she wasn’t naive enough to think Quinn was any different. And sure, Quinn walked around with the sun under his feet, and he smiled with stars in his eyes, and his laugh sent tidal waves to her heart, but those were all things she knew wouldn’t make him any easier to love.

She watched her parents for far too long to know love was a blanketed title people used for feelings they couldn’t voice, but how was it love if she slept in an empty bed waiting for the other to return? How was it love if dinners were quiet to avoid arguments at all costs? How was it love if touches were rigid and just for show? Y/N wasn’t a fool, and she knew that she wanted Quinn, and she knew he made the world still and the background noises quiet, but those were all feelings that she knew would never quite be enough.

Y/N didn’t know how to love, and neither did her parents, and neither did their parents, and Quinn deserved better than that. So she thought that best friend was a great title. The best, even. It was as good as it was going to get, and it was perhaps a lucky enough gift from the universe she even scored that title in the first place.

But Y/N craved something deeper, something closer, something more intimate. She wanted to feel him in ways no one has, see him in ways no one will, have him in ways only she could. She liked the idea of feeling his touch in a gentle drag across her skin, warm and sweet and trickling with honeyed words against the shell of her ear, but she knew she couldn’t exactly live it out in a reality. So she imagined it, let herself feel the ghost of Quinn’s touch, allowed herself to hear the phantom of her voice in the deepest parts of her imagination.

Like now, for example, as Y/N fell back onto the couch after Quinn had left their apartment, she let out a quiet moan as her hand rubbed over the wet spot on her yoga pants. She shuddered, feeling the heat building up between her legs as she imagined Quinn’s hand replacing hers, and she whined when she let herself tug her shirt up, playing with her own nipples and pinching them between her fingers.

Through half closed eyes, Y/N laid back on the cushion and settled both hands between her legs, lightly resting the edges of her fingers along the lips of her pussy and clit. It felt good, but it would probably feel better if Quinn was the one touching her.

“Oh, God.” Y/N breathed, sweaty hair sticking to her forehead as she dragged her fingers over her pussy, aching with the need for release. And then she had a sudden thought intruding her mind, one where Quinn might just press a delicate kiss between her thighs, and she groaned before reaching to rub her clit with her free hand. “Like that, Quinn. Don’t stop.” She pleaded, like he was there to listen.

Y/N whined, rubbing her pussy faster now, the squelching noise filling the room. Her hips bucked into her fingers to chase the friction, and she wondered if her hand would come to press down and keep her in place.

“Feels so good, baby. God, you feel so good.” She groaned, calling out Quinn’s name as she imagined it was his hand instead of hers, as she imagined it was Quinn she was speaking to and not an empty room, as she imagined it was him watching her with lust hazed eyes and want in his blood. “Gonna make me cum.” She moaned. “Gonna cum for you.”

“Y/N? Oh, my God.” Quinn said, and this time it wasn’t in her imagination.

Y/N’s eyes widen as she sat up, cursing to herself while her face turned a deep shade of crimson. And she was horrified, really, because she was sure Quinn had heard her moan his name, she was sure he saw her rub her pussy, she was sure Quinn had gathered by now that she was thinking of him in the filthiest way possible.

Her throat closed and his heart raced, and she thought there might just be a pinprick of tears in her eyes from the dread and the humiliation. "Quinn, get out. Just close your eyes and stay there. Shit, just go.” She scrambled to yank down her top and clamped her legs together, throwing the remote at him as a distraction while she sprinted from the living room.

Embarrassment swept over her again at the memory and she wondered for about the hundredth time whether she'd ever get over it. Y/N sipped from her can of Pepsi and stirred the brown rice bubbling in the pot on the stove. It was already after seven. Quinn would be home any minute now.

Her exhibitionist moment had become that elephant in the room no one dared speak about, but it was only a matter of time before he cracked and brought up the subject. Since returning from his roadie three days ago, the amused glances he kept sending her way confirmed her hunch; the only reason Quinn held back from talking about it was because it made her uncomfortable. This whole situation had become far too entertaining — for him, at least.

Y/N heard the front door open and close. Quinn usually headed down the hall to change in his bedroom before he came looking for her. She took the pot of rice over to the island bench to drain while she waited for him to appear. Moments later he entered the kitchen, sending her a grin while he strolled across the tiled floor barefoot. She knew, she just knew every time he looked at her now he pictured that scene all over again.

"Hey, Y/N/N.” Quinn said. He wore black athletic shorts and a pain t-shirt that revealed his muscled arms.

"Hi." Y/N smiled and met his eyes briefly. "Dinner's almost ready if you’d want to set the table."

When they were both sitting in the dining room beside the floor-to-ceiling window that showcased the twinkling lights of the city, Y/N speared a piece of chicken and shoved it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed, then quickly replaced it with another to avoid having to talk to him.

She wished things could return to normal between them, that they could go back to sharing their flirty banter and having fun together. They'd clicked from the moment they met. Now it was just awkward and the fault lay entirely with her, Quinn hadn't changed a bit. Her eyes remained directed at her plate, and was only when Quinn let out a snort of amusement that she raised her head.

"It's natural, you know.” He said. His gaze roamed her face, taking everything in. "To want to do it, I mean. Everyone does it."

Y/N closed her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it, Quinn."

"I know."

She opened her eyes and forced herself to look at him. "Then why are you bringing it up?"

"We need to talk about it." Quinn balanced his fork on the edge of his plate. "This is serious. The tension around here's putting me off my food."

Although it didn't help at all, she still appreciated his attempt to bring humor into the conversation. "Can't we just pretend it never happened?" She said.

"Y/N, it did happen and it's not a big deal. You're just turning it into one."

Her eyes widened. "That's easy for you to say. How would you feel if I walked in on you... pleasuring yourself?"

"I don't know because it's never happened to me. I always go somewhere private to pleasure myself." She heard the humor in his tone. "I've never set up camp on the couch before and just gone for it."

Oh, my God. If the humiliation at hearing his words wasn't enough now she had the image of him all aroused to contend with, too. Y/N pushed her plate away and leaned her forehead against the table. "I'm just going to bang my head here until I knock myself out, okay?"

"C'mon." Quinn’s patient amusement only made the situation that much worse. Why couldn't she be the mature one here?

Chair legs scraped against tile then his hand wrapped around her upper arm. Quinn tugged her reluctantly into a standing position. Knowing he wanted to talk about it rather than eat his dinner made her realize just how determined he was to fix this problem. Y/N tilted her head to stare up at him, blown away by the jolt of awareness she experienced whenever she looked into his eyes.

"Why does it bother you so much?" Quinn asked. His eyebrows pulled together as he studied her.

"Is it really that hard to understand? You saw me with my hand in my panties, Quinn. You saw my boobs, too." She turned her head and stared out the window, wishing she could be anywhere other than here with him talking about the first place holder on her list of embarrassing moments.

"One boob.” He corrected. "A very, very nice one."

Her eyes flicked back to his to check whether he was making fun of her, but his compliment appeared to be sincere. "Thank you.” She said.

"No, thank you."

A reluctant smile appeared. Y/N should have talked about it with him when it actually happened instead of leaving it to him to address the issue. It would have been a lot simpler. "It just feels like I'm at a disadvantage. You saw me during a private moment. I can tell you still think it's funny. I don't like you having that over me."

His mouth turned up at one corner. "You want me to jerk off in front of you to make things even?"

Y/N’s stomach fluttered at the thought. She knew he was joking to lighten the mood, but when she opened her mouth to speak the word that wanted to come out was yes. "Well.” She sent him a tentative smile.

Quinn let out a laughing breath. "I can't believe it. You actually want me to jerk off in front of you."

Now that he'd brought up the idea, Y/N kept her eyes on him and her mouth shut, waiting him out. She refused to get herself in any deeper without some indication that he felt even a tiny portion of the attraction that tormented her on a daily basis. He watched her and the humor slowly slipped from his expression. The silence stretched on and the strain between them grew until it eventually became unbearable. His gaze dropped to her breasts as they lifted and fell beneath her t-shirt.

When his eyes met hers again, the intensity in them left her stunned. "If we're doing this, I'll need some inspiration."

Y/N’s breathing shallowed and her pulse raced. "Like what?" She could barely get the words out.

"Use your imagination." Quinn grabbed her wrist and led her into the living room. He took her over to the coffee table and urged her to sit on the edge. He positioned himself on the couch opposite her and relaxed against the back. When his attention returned to her, his eyebrows lifted. "When this is over, so is all the awkwardness between us. I want the old Y/N back."

Y/N swallowed. "Okay." Did he actually intend to go through with this or was he teasing her and making her wait for the moment where he burst into laughter? She went for something safe just to test him. Her fingers reached up to tug at the clip holding her hair in place. She pulled it free and her hair tumbled over her shoulders. "Does that inspire you?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

He let out an amused breath. "You're gorgeous, but I'm going to need more."

Y/N hid her pleasure at his words, at the warmth they encouraged inside her. She nibbled her lower lip, wondering how far to go next. Affection and tenderness filled his expression. Quinn looked like he wanted her to keep going. The fact that he just sat there patiently waiting, his hands resting on his knees while his gaze swept over her, helped her relax. He didn't push her or tease her so she decided to make the next step more adventurous.

Y/N held her breath and gripped the hem of her t-shirt, dragging it over her torso. The bundle dropped from her slackened fingertips and she sat before him wearing only her blue lace bra and black yoga pants. An intense longing spread through her as she watched him watching her.

"Now we're getting somewhere.” Quinn said. She heard the huskiness in his voice and shivers tickled the surface of her skin.

Before she could change her mind, Y/N stood up and made quick work of removing her pants. "I seem to be the only one who's actually doing anything." She sat back down in her white thong, gripping the edge of the table to keep her trembling fingers steady. "Don't you have a job to do?"

Quinn’s mouth quirked with the smile she knew and loved. "Why don't you just tell me you want to see my cock?"

Desire swelled inside her, crashing in the pit of her stomach, making her feel as if she'd just lost her footing. She met his eyes and in a voice that had turned surprisingly breathy she said, "I really want to see your cock."

Heat flashed in his eyes. "Keep that up and you'll be doing a lot more than looking." Quinn grabbed his top at the neckline and leaned forward, drawing it over his head to reveal his entire upper body to her for the first time. He'd never been one for strutting around the apartment half-naked and she regretted that the moment she set eyes on his bare chest.

“Amazing." Y/N felt a sudden urge to run her tongue over his abs. "You've got an incredible body, but I still don't see your cock."

Quinn chuckled then and it thrilled her that they could find time to laugh despite the sensual nature of the moment. "You're a little eager, aren't you? Been a while?"

"Ages." Y/N reached behind her to the clasp on her bra.

Y/N flicked it open and drew the straps down her arms until they settled at her bent elbows. She kept the cups in place with her hands and sent him an expectant look. The idea of baring herself to him in this way made her heart race. He'd already told her he liked what he saw when he caught her here on the couch. That wasn't the problem. It was being almost naked and sitting just across from him while he… she had to drag in a steadying breath.

Quinn grinned and lifted his hips, shoving at the waistbands of both his shorts and underwear. He lowered them at the same time, stopping just before he got to the good stuff. "You sure you can handle this?"

She watched the ridges in his stomach contract and her mouth went dry. She really wasn't sure of anything right now. "I won't be the one handling it, but I'm sure I'll enjoy watching."

His huffed out a laugh and his thumbs stayed tucked in the top of his shorts, teasing her with the skin he had on display and the mystery of what remained hidden. "There's only one problem.” He said.

She clutched her loosened bra to her breasts. "What's that?"

He met her eyes. "I didn't get to see you cum."

Her cheeks flushed and a quick thrill ran through her. Y/N knew exactly what he was getting at; she'd have to be content with an unfinished show from him or join in so they could reach that peak together. The thought of him in that moment, watching that look come over his face, she didn't want to miss out on seeing it for real. "You want to watch me?"

Quinn gave her a half-smile. "I'd rather make you cum than sit back and watch, but I'll take what I can get.”

Her heart slowed to a heavy thud. "What?"

Quinn shook his head and laughed. "So pretty, yet so dense.” He teased. "What do you think all the flirting's been about?"

"I just thought you flirted with all women like that." Knowing she'd jumped to the wrong conclusion made her happier than she'd thought possible. "You want to have sex with me?" Y/N narrowed her eyes, staring at him. He'd better not be joking.

"No." His gaze traveled over her, pausing at her mouth before moving slowly down her body. He finally looked her in the eyes. "Having sex sounds so clinical. I want to fuck you."

Oh, my God. She let out the breath she'd been holding. A surge of something completely and utterly carnal took hold of her. "I didn't know.” Y/N said breathlessly. "I mean, look at you, and then look at me."

Quinn frowned, appearing annoyed by that, as if he couldn't understand why she felt so out of her depth when it came to his physical appeal. "If you don't shut up and come over here, I'm going to start wondering why I'm so hopelessly attracted to you."

Y/N couldn't catch her breath. Her fingers tightened around the delicate material of her bra as she took it from her breasts and let it fall to the floor. She shook her head slowly. "I still want to watch you.” She heard herself saying.

His gaze dropped to her bared breasts and his jaw clenched. "Better lose the panties, then."

The expression on his face made her want to kiss him. A rush of need swept through her. Her nipples tightened into sensitive buds. Y/N pushed herself off the coffee table and slipped her fingers into the waistband of her thong. Quinn’s eyes followed her every movement and as she lowered her panties he pushed his shorts and boxers down his thighs.

Y/N stepped from her underwear just as he revealed his cock, inch by delectable inch. Her pulse raced. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight. It was already hard and now she'd just found somewhere else on his body that she wanted to lick. Quinn kicked his shorts free as she sat back down on the table. She perched on the edge, torn between the need to climb over him and straddle his lap or keep her distance for a better view.

"Ladies first.” Quinn said. A muscle twitched in his jaw. His eyes burned with need. She'd never seen this side of him before.

She lifted her feet, resting them on tiptoes while she slowly, slowly parted her knees. One hand reached behind her, her palm flattening against the table top for support. The other dipped between her thighs to tease her damp folds. Moisture coated her fingertips, and she sighed, wanting to tip her head back but unwilling to lose sight of him for a second.

Quinn groaned and grabbed hold of his cock, stroking the thick, hard length as he watched her. His eyes slid over every part of her, from her face to her breasts, dropping between her legs like a physical caress. The veins in the back of his hand stood out. The way his fingers gripped his erection made her own move faster over her slick pussy. She wanted his hands on her, all over her. She wanted to feel the damp heat of his mouth as it travelled across her skin, the rigid length of him as it sank inside her.

"I was thinking about you.” Y/N said, struggling to put the words together. "When you walked in on me, I mean." Her fingers slid over her clit, massaging the swollen bud while her gaze meshed with his. She hit a sensitive spot and closed her eyes briefly, swallowing a moan. "I'm always thinking about you."

"Y/N." She opened her eyes at the sound of her name. Quinn let out a heavy breath that bordered on a groan, working his cock with increasing speed. She imagined lapping at it with the tip of her tongue. "C'mere, I want you."

His words gave her a head rush. Y/N drew her legs together and warmth pulsed between her thighs as she rose from her position on the table. She took the two steps that lay between them, leaning over him to bring her mouth into close contact with his. He reached up with one hand and filled his palm with her flesh, massaging her breast, teasing her nipple while his lips brushed hers.

Y/N sighed and climbed over him, hovering with her legs spread either side of his thighs. She clasped her hand around his, encouraging him to keep stroking his cock. Quinn groaned and pressed his mouth to hers, taking control, guiding the kiss. He took it deeper, drawing it out with slow sweeps of his tongue, soft nibbles of his lips.

Quinn thumbed her nipple. A whimper sounded in her throat and her hand skated over her stomach to delve back between her thighs. Y/N found her wetness, teasing her hidden nub. She moaned and rocked her hips to meet the firm glide of her fingertips. The slick head of his cock bumped against her knuckles as they both pleasured themselves. Her control faltered and she kissed him harder, thrusting her tongue against his as her desire grew. Her hips jerked.

Y/N broke the kiss, her breaths coming heavily as she whispered, "I wanna ride you, Quinny."

Quinn growled and tugged harder at his thick length, using his free hand to grab a fistful of her hair at the back of her head. "Cum for me first.” He said. “Then it's all yours." He used his grip on her hair to hold her right there and crushed his lips to hers.

His tongue plunged into her mouth. A husky moan tore from her and she rubbed her clit, massaging, teasing, all pushing herself closer to the edge. Her eyes closed tightly, her only focus to come. She needed him inside her. His hard, wet cock kept sliding against the back of her hand, taunting her and urging her on.

Quinn seemed to sense her impending release. Either that or he was close himself. His mouth grew more demanding, his groans more frequent. Her fingertips increased pressure on her clit, slipping back and forth. Her other hand cupped the back of his neck, holding on. Her stomach tensed and her hips thrust. His mouth roamed over hers, his tongue caressed. It only increased her desire, her need for him. His hand in her hair, his body beneath her, she wanted him so much.

Y/N pulled her mouth free to drag in a shaky breath. Her forehead rested against his. She cried out, shuddering. It flowed through her in a surge of complete bliss. Her moan, when it came, was throaty and full of pleasure. Her fingers kept rubbing, her hips jerking. While the final tremors still shook her body, Quinn released her hair and clasped her hips. He shoved his cock inside her, pulling her down to deepen the connection. Her back bowed and she let out a garbled sound. He filled her, harsh, fast. Her wet fingers dug into his shoulder, her other hand clutched his hair.

His deep groan against her throat made her shiver. Quinn wrapped his arms tightly around her and fucked her hard. Y/N held on, turning her head to press her lips to his temple. Her breasts jolted against his chest. Her stomach quivered as the need built inside her all over again.

His arm tightened around her and he lifted her, still connected with him, lowering her onto her back on the couch. Quinn rested on one elbow, using his other hand to grasp her ass as he took her even harder. His cock plunged inside her, his hips smacking hers. Sweat-slicked skin met sweat-slicked skin. His chest brushed against her taut nipples.

Quinn looked into her eyes, a glint of something wild in his gaze. His mouth lifted in a half-smile. "You're so fucking hot.” He said.

Y/N clenched her thighs around him, linking her ankles at the base of his spine. "Shut up and make me cum."

Quinn nuzzled her throat and chuckled, damned if the sound didn't make a shiver pass right through her. His pace increased, growing in intensity until she found herself having a brand new appreciation for athletic men. She met his thrusts with her bucking hips, tipping her head back and biting her lip.

Y/N felt it coming, the throb beginning between her thighs. Quinn’s teeth grazed her throat and it was all she needed to give her that final push. She gripped his shoulders and let out a hoarse moan, writhing beneath him. She was still so sensitive from the last effort that she wanted to pull away from him and get closer all at the same time. Her release only spurred him on.

Quinn’s fingers dug into the flesh of her ass, pulling her toward his thrusts. His mouth traveled across her collarbone, moving up to her jaw. He rested his lips there, his warm breaths whispering over her as he reached his peak. Y/N held on, bracing herself as he gave a couple of final, forceful thrusts, letting out a low groan as he came inside her. She hugged him, her arms and thighs wrapping around him to keep him close. He relaxed against her, his heart thudding hard, his breaths wrenching from him.

Y/N’s eyes drifted closed and a smile claimed her features. She relished in the weight of him pressing against her. She couldn't believe how much had changed between them in such a short space of time. From the awkwardness this morning to this, she let out a trembling breath and pressed her cheek to his, closing her eyes to take it all in.

A short while later, Quinn stirred against her and lifted his head. "Hi." He smiled, his eyes heavy-lidded as he lowered his mouth to give her a long, lazy kiss. She lifted her arms above her head, stretching leisurely beneath him and sighing as his lips moved over hers. He gave her one final soft kiss and pulled back to look her over. "We're going to have to come up with some arrangement here. Best friends with benefits or something because I need to do this again."

Y/N lowered her arms, hugging his neck as she squeezed her thighs around him. He was still inside her and judging by that look on his face he'd be hard again in no time. "Really? You want to do it again, huh?" She could barely keep the pleasure from her voice.

"Yeah." Quinn slipped his hand over her breast, massaging her flesh. "We were in such a hurry, I neglected these. I want to make up for that oversight." Her breath caught and her hips lifted beneath him, and he smiled. "You okay with that?" He dipped his head to draw her nipple into his mouth.

Y/N let out a sound that couldn't decide if it wanted to be a laugh or a moan. "Yeah, I think I can handle that."

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fourmoony · 2 months

Note

This may be weirdly specific so feel free to ignore if so but

Jamie with a reader who’s never felt like she was someone’s first choice and is having a hard time grasping that she *is* his

thanks for requesting angel! 1.5k f!reader modern!au

he's my sweet boy i need him in a way i cannot describe

masterlist

James' shrill ring tone fills the room, but neither of you make an effort to move for it where it's buzzing against the coffee table. You probably should be the one to do it, considering you're sprawled across the top of James, making it rather difficult for him to move. But, he doesn't ask you to, so you don't. Even when it rings a second time. You think James might actually be asleep, unaware to the incessant ringing. He's slept through worse, in all fairness.

But he groans petulantly when the ringing stops, turns to ping after ping, the texts flashing across his locked screen and illuminating the dark calm of his living room. His hand leaves it's place on your hip, reaching half heartedly for the device and when he fails, you sigh and reach for it yourself. It'd been a peaceful two hours of relaxing, just existing together in the same space, not really talking, not really doing anything except revelling in the feeling of each other's presence on James' couch after a busy week of barely seeing each other. Between your work, James' rugby practices, and trying to maintain social lives, it'd been hard to have quality time.

You're okay with that. More than okay with that. James has his life and you have yours. This thing you have, it's new and it's fragile, and you won't dent it or risk losing it by being clingy, by telling James that you miss him, that you want to spend more time with him, friends and coworkers, practices and life be damned. You refuse. So you slide the top half of your body off the couch, one hand holding yourself up on the floor, and the other outstretched for James' phone.

His left hand cups the back of your thigh, fingers slipping between the left and right. It's an innocent touch, but heat floods your body all the same as your fingers wrap around his rubber phone case and you heave your body back on top of his. He grumbles when the phone starts to ring again, rubs an apologetic hand up and down the back of your thigh which has you forcing your face into the crease of his neck and shoulder to hide the bright red of your cheeks.

He rests his head atop yours as he answers the phone.

Sirius' voice booms through the speaker, though it's too muffled to make out what he's saying. James answers whatever it is with a tired sounding "Not tonight, mate."

There's more muffled talking, a couple of voices added into the mix and you assume that Sirius is in the local pub. Your heart sinks a little when you realise he's likely inviting James out, and you don't have the heart to tell him you'd rather stay inside the cozy confines of his flat, half asleep in the dim evening light. You don't want to seem controlling or toxic, so you lie still, control your breathing, don't react to whatever is coming down the line from Sirius' end.

James chuckles lightly, his free hand rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back, hand warm against your skin where it's worked it's way under your - his - rugby jumper. "Yeah, yeah, she's here." James' hand squeezes the pudge of your hip at the mention of you.

You tilt your head up in interest and James smiles down at you, warmly, presses his lips to the crown of your head as Sirius screeches down the phone.

"No. No, Sirius, she doesn't want to spend her only day off in the pub listening to you lot." James speaks with humour in his voice, but you can see the hint of frustration that's in his eyes.

You frown, wonder if he's frustrated because he feels he has to pick between you and his friends. You love his friends, you get on well with them, but he's right, you can't think of anything worse on your only day off than going to the pub. "You should go." You whisper, urging James by attempting to climb off of him.

His arm wraps tight around your waist, brows furrowed as he looks down at you and shakes his head, "No." He mouths.

Then, "No. Sirius. No. Mate, you're smashed, have Moony take you home."

James laughs at whatever Sirius says in retort, and then the two are saying their goodbyes. James tosses his phone onto the coffee table after he switches it to silent mode.

"You should go. This is your only day off, as well. Go see your friends. We can do a quick dinner or something tomorrow." You try to urge him again.

James' immediate response is to hold you tighter to him, as though you may actually be trying to escape him. "I'd rather spend my time here. With you." He shrugs, like it's nothing.

Your heart does a little stutter at his words, but your brain catches up and you sigh, "Jamie, it's okay. If you want to go, you should."

His brows hook upward at the middle when he furrows them, his eyes searching yours, "Why is it so hard for you to believe I'd rather be here with you?"

You try not to flinch at his words, try not to think about all the boys before who've put a myriad of things above you. It's fine, really. You've grown accustomed to settling for the dregs, the stolen moments. James is worth the heavy feeling it leaves in your chest to be second best. Simply because when you're with him, the world melts away.

Feigning indifference, you shrug against him, "Because all we're doing is laying here in the dark, half asleep. Wouldn't you rather be out with your friends having a laugh?"

"Would you?" James counters, and it seems like he genuinely wants to know your answer, like he thinks, foolishly, so foolishly, you'd rather be anywhere else. That you wish you were doing more.

Doing nothing with James forever sounds like the best thing you've ever heard. "No. Not at all. I love this. But I know you. You're a social butterfly." You speak softly, cautious of the conversation turning into a row.

You have too many experiences with conversations like the one you're having now being turned into a row.

James nods, "I love this, too. And you're right, I like to be social, but sometimes that drains me. I've spent all week being social, spent all week missing you, and I'm drained. All I wanted to do all week was see you, spend time with you. I couldn't think of anything worse than going to the pub, right now."

His hands are as assuring as his words, trailing a path of warmth and comfort across the planes of your back, your thighs, your hips. It's surreal, the assertiveness he speaks with, the way he makes sure you know he means every word. Your stomach flutters with the idea of him missing you as much as you missed him. It's weird, to feel validated, to feel content and sure.

"I just don't want your friends to think you're picking me over them, or something." You mumble, head dropping back into the space between his shoulder and neck.

James hums, "I am though. Not in a bad way. I just," He pauses, like he's searching for the words, "I'm sure about this, you know? Sure about you, about us. You mean a lot to me, and I'm all in. You come above everything else because, for me, that's the only way it'll work."

You feel rather silly for the tears that spring their way to your eyes, and begin to leak without your consent against James' neck. He must feel them, because he tuts, using his hands to pry your face away from the skin, thumbs swiping softly at the fallen tears. He looks at you so gently you might start sobbing. Relief washes over you in waves, and you realise you hadn't even been aware how worried you were that you felt more for James than he did for you.

"Why are you crying, sweet girl?" He whispers, pressing a kiss to each of your tear stained cheeks.

You loose a breath, "I've never been someones first choice before."

That visibly upsets James, who takes it upon himself to right this wrong, stave off your tears by pressing kisses all over your face between murmured promises.

"I'd pick you in this life," a kiss to your nose, "the next," a kiss to your forehead, "the one after that," a kiss to your chin, "and in every universe."

He finishes with a kiss to your lips, soft and deep, his hands steady on the line of your jaw. You whine a little, pushing further into him until he's chuckling into your mouth.

"I'd pick you, too," You say into his mouth.

James smiles, bright as anything you've ever seen, "Thank God for that, lovie."

And yeah. Thank god for that.

#marauders #marauders fic #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter one shot #james potter x f!reader #james potter fluff #hes a sweet boy your honour #sirius black #remus lupin #fluff #marauders fluff #sirius black imagine #remus lupin imagine #fourmoonys asks

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sweetbbarnes · 11 months

Text

Jealous

TFATWS!BuckyBarnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky had no idea you could get so jealous over him. He’s not complaining, though.

Warnings: nothing much, jealous!reader, mentions of reader being insecure about herself (no body descriptions except from a part where it says that reader has calloused/scarred hands), a tiny hint at reader and Bucky having sex (you have to squint)

A/N: PLS I have nothing against long pink nails that’s actually how my nails are right now

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY STORIES TRANSLATED, COPIED OR POSTED TO ANY OTHER SITE/APP/ACCOUNT. DO NOT STEAL MY WORK.

You have absolutely no right to feel like this.

The almost unbearable pang in your chest grows sharper and sharper as you observe the vibrant red lipstick luring Bucky into a conversation that leaves you to wonder what could be so intriguing. Oh, I actually know what’s so intriguing, you think to yourself as your eyes dart over her too revealing outfit. Talking, talking, talking. You summon the word like a mantra, repeating it over and over again in your mind, desperately trying to convince yourself that everything is fine. They’re just talking, right? So what if her hand and her stupidly long pink nails are strategically resting on his chest? What does it matter if she’s wiggling her hips all the time to show off? Everybody does that, it means nothing!

“You okay there, kid?” Sam asks, concerned, using the old nickname even though he knows you’re a little too far from being a kid now. “You look like you want to murder someone”

You shift the gaze towards your friend, attempting a smile that could honestly be mistaken with a grimace. “Just tired.” Your reply is barely audible over the unnecessarily loud music pulsating through Sharon’s mansion. They’re just talking.

“I must say,” Zemo unfortunately started with his infuriatingly smug grin “I never took you for a jealous woman”

“Jealous?” Sam repeated the infamous word, a little confused.

“Shut up, Zemo.” You reply dryly, shooting the man a glare that would make Bucky proud, if only he was paying attention to you and not some random woman’s boobs.

“She’s jealous of the pretty lady who’s captivating her soldier’s attention.” Zemo annoyingly elucidates the situation to Sam.

You watch, tortured, as Sam’s confused expression morphs into one of understanding as he gives Zemo a knowing look. “Y/n, if you’re-”

“I am not jealous and he is not ‘my soldier’.” You snap, your words coming out a little louder than you intended. Feeling frustrated in front of the truth Zemo just shoved at your face, you storm off towards the bar and ask the bartender for a beer.

You’re trying to ignore it. You really are. But your eyes can’t seem to abandon the enchanting figure across the room. She’s tall, stunning, feminine. Her skin is probably soft, void of the calluses and scars that mark your own — you wonder if Bucky can feel the softness through his shirt where she’s touching. She walks around in a piece of cloth that leaves too little to the imagination as if she fucking owns the place. Her lipstick matches so perfectly with her skin tone that if you didn’t know better you'd think she invented the color red. Every single aspect of her mere existence seems particularly designed to piss you off - but that could just be because her taste in men is pretty similar to yours. And there stands Barnes, wearing that infuriatingly sweet smirk of his, clearly enjoying the attention.

He can flirt with pretty girls. You tell yourself, trying to see things through a logical lens. He's a single, independent, free man. He can do whatever the fuck he wants.

That much is true. To some extent.

See, he is single, and independent, and free. The only problem is, he had been flirting with you for the past two weeks — ever since Sam called you asking for help with the flagsmashers and Barnes forced his way into the situation. Or at least, you thought he was flirting. You could’ve read too much into his actions. But then again, if you were overanalyzing it, so were Sam and Zemo, because they just won’t stop teasing you about it.

Out of the two, Sam’s teases are the worst, of course. The damn asshole knows all too well that you had been pinning over Barnes since the day you helped save him years ago, back when everything was simpler. But then Wakanda happened, followed by Thanos, the blip, and the soul-wrecking taste of losing Bucky — and everyone else — for good. Then he came back, and now here you are, still hopelessly infatuated with the same dude.

Only now things are a little bit different. Because he had been gone, and in the time he was away, you had aged five years. He no longer addresses you as "kid," and you’re pretty sure you had caught him stealing glances at you when he believed no one was looking. Glances that resemble the way a man looks at a woman. Or so you desperately hoped thought. But all those fragile beliefs are now on the verge of shattering as you watch him giving the pretty lady a look that threatens to extinguish every ounce of hope you still hold onto.

"For someone who claims she's not jealous, you sure seem to be," Sam playfully mocks, breaking the silence as he sits in the barstool next to you.

You let out a heavy sigh. "Don't start."

"Are you going over there?" Sam asks nonchalantly.

"And say what? Hey, Barnes, I know we don't have anything and I have absolutely no right to be jealous, but could you please stop flirting with pretty women when I'm around? It really fucking stings?"

"It's a start," Sam shrugs.

You scoff, grabbing another beer from the bartender.

"If you're not willing to resolve it, at least stop glaring at the woman like you want to decapitate her," Zemo, much to your annoyance, joins the conversation.

"Since when do you care?" you retort, irritated with the audacity of this man.

"I don't. Just trying to be helpful," Zemo replies casually.

"Well, you're not," you roll your eyes.

"Although,” he adds after a moment of much appreciated silence, “if you're genuinely jealous, I suggest you don’t look now."

The smartass knows exactly how to get under your skin.

Shifting your gaze to where Bucky stands allowing himself to be drawn by cheap men-hooking techniques, your mouth suddenly dries. Planted far too close for your liking, the woman seductively whispers something right next to his ear as her hand caresses his bicep.

He’s not mine, you remind yourself, desperately trying to push the jealousy that threatens to consume you.

He doesn't owe me anything, you reason, the logical side of your brain trying to establish control.

I don’t have the right to feel like this. You shove your half done bottle into Sam’s chest, who holds it with an exasperated look directed at you.

I have absolutely no right to be jealous. You scold yourself as your legs start moving of their own accord, marching towards the pair.

You're nothing to him, you repeat in your mind, determination guiding your steps. When they finally notice your presence, it’s too late. You had already positioned yourself between them, fully facing Bucky.

"Excuse me, we were in the middle of a conversation," the pretty lady interjects, her tone doesn’t hold any particular hostility but her words irritate you nonetheless. How dare she flirt with your man?!

You turn your head towards her, lifting one eyebrow in a display of unimpressed indifference, before decisively returning your attention to Bucky. Grabbing him by the collar, you pull him closer and fervently press your lips against his.

Startled by your sudden attitude, he takes a few moments to fully register what the hell is going on, but as you refuse to back down, he slowly encircles his metal arm around your waist, raising his other hand to your cheek so he can hold your face and properly kiss the woman he’s been head over heels for since he came back to his senses when Steve saved him.

As Bucky deepens the kiss, taunting your parted lips with the tip of his tongue, the world around you fades into insignificance. The pent-up emotions, the frustration, the longing, and the overwhelming uncertainty, everything melts away in the intensity of the moment. Time stands still as you grant him full access to your mouth, both your stubborn natures fighting to dominate and control the kiss.

Realizing you need oxygen to survive, you release your grip on Bucky's collar, breaking the kiss but keeping your eyes locked with his. The unspoken words and long cultivated desires building up a tension one could cut with a knife.

The soldier's piercing gaze searches for yours, a mix of surprise, confusion, and something else flickering within the depths of his ocean blue eyes. Without actually thinking about what he’s doing, his grip tightens around your waist, pulling you closer. For a brief moment, you don’t dare say a word, the gravity of the situation sinking in, neither of you quite sure how to navigate the newfound territory you had just barged your way in.

But obviously, because Bucky is Bucky and you are you, that signature smirk of his slowly starts to show itself, and you somehow know what’s about to come.

“Well, darlin’, if that’s what you do when you get all riled up, I should probably find some more ladies to flirt with.” He teases, lightly squeezing your waist.

“Don’t push it, Barnes.” You fake scold, trying to hold back a smirk of your own.

He lowers his head until his lips are right next to you ear, so close that you can feel his warm breath as he speaks, “though if I got this attitude whenever you make me jealous, dollface, I have a feeling we’d be kissing a lot more”

A delicious shiver runs down your spine as you tease.”You keep the sweet talk, Sarge, and we’re gonna end up in Sharon’s spare bedroom.”

Well, you did end up in Sharon’s spare bedroom. And the bathroom. And the kitchen. And every single room in his apartment after you went back home. But that’s a story for another time.

Bonus:

Sam scowls as he watches the pretty lady storm away from you two, reaching his back pocket to get Zemo’s twenty dollars.

“I hope you know this is the last time I make a bet with you.” Sam mumbles, displeased, sipping the beer he knows very damn well you won’t be coming back to get.

Zemo shrugs nonchalantly, tucking away the money both of them know he doesn’t really need, but holds immense satisfaction as it represents his symbolic triumph over the bet. He smirks. "I must remind you, I did mention I could be quite persuasive."

masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x female reader #tfatws fic #tfatws fanfiction #tfatws!bucky #bucky fic #bucky x you

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aether-starlight · 3 months

Text

Auscultation- Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x Reader

Warnings: None. Brief mention of poor eating habits.

Summary: You come to the hospital for a check-up regarding a past shoulder dislocation.

Word Count: 1k

Note: This is a continuation of Mending, but can be read as a stand-alone.

Zayne was talking. Or at least, his mouth was moving.

Instead of paying attention, you were being haunted, once again, by the memory of him. The ghost of his hand over your cheek, his perfume, and the tension of his proximity.

You wondered if he could tell you were distracted, or if he noticed the entranced stare you gave his lips every once in a while. They reminded you of his breath brushing your ear, of his palm pressed over your eyes, cool and steady.

Until an unexpected statement broke through your fixation.

“I will need you to remove your jacket.”

If you hadn’t known him for such a long time, the tense set of his jaw may have slipped your notice, just like the slight clearing of his throat.

Was he angry you were distracted?

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Okay.”

It was a quick removal. After all, one of your arms was in a sling, so the leather jacket was only wrapped around your shoulder.

Having supposed something like this would be necessary —this wasn’t your first dislocation, unfortunately—, you had brought a top, which meant the only barrier between your joint and his hands was a menial string.

And you were not nervous about that. Nope. Not at all.

You stifled a shiver at the low temperature of the room and sat on the stretcher in a swift motion—being a hunter had its perks, it made you agile, even with an injured arm.

“I’m going to examine the area,” Zayne’s voice was soft, almost breathless as his hands hovered over the space where your shoulder met your neck.

You smacked your lips together and felt yourself relax just a little.

“Okay.”

His fingers were as cold as the room, startling you when they gently pulled the string of your top out of the way.

You gasped.

“Forgive me,” he said, avoiding your gaze at all costs.

His hand hovered over your skin, giving you a second to adjust.

“It’s fine, Doctor Zayne.”

You quite liked calling him that, liked the nervous edge to his voice when you did.

“Does this hurt?” He pressed down the pads of his fingers with moderate force.

“Not really,” you hummed. If anything, it felt kind of nice.

Zayne cleared his throat once more, shifting his grip to your forearm.

Your heart rushed at the slide of his skin over yours, goosebumps rising in its wake. It reminded you of holding his hand, the way the scars on his knuckles had felt as you brushed your thumb over them.

“Your iron levels were below average in your last check-up. Have you been eating well?” He asked.

Now it was time for you to be nervous.

“Of course,” you lied, lowering your gaze to his tie.

Like everything concerning him, it was freakishly neat, with an understated geometric pattern in shades of gray.

He probably measured it with a ruler before buying it. You pictured it: his unforgiving focus, the concentrated tilt of his mouth as he gripped it between lithe fingers.

Unfortunately, said focus was now drilling a hole into your head.

“Fine, I may have skipped meals, you know I forget to eat sometimes.”

“I suppose I should be grateful you don’t forget to breathe,” he quipped.

“You are so prickly, you know that?”

You played with his stethoscope with your free hand, following the bob of his Adam’s apple with a satisfied smirk.

“I’m not prickly,” he denied. “I’m serious. Does this hurt?”

He gently rotated your arm, slow in his movement.

“And I’m not? Doesn’t hurt.”

He gave you a loaded look, resting your hand back on your lap.

You mercilessly stifled the disappointment that rose at the pit of your stomach when he let go.

“Wouldn’t be the first word I used to describe you, no.”

You pressed the stethoscope’s bell to his chest, earpieces already in place.

“Wow, your heart is beating pretty fast, are you sure you’re not the one with the heart pro—“

“Would you quit that?” He interrupted, sounding somewhere between amused and irritated as he unwrapped your fingers from around the bell. “It’s not a toy.”

“Sorry,” you fidgeted with the tubing before passing it to him.

“What’s with you today?”

“Can’t help it,” you beamed. “Too much coffee.”

Zayne tucked a strand of your hair back, stifling a groan of frustration. He was a weak, weak man.

When his palm curled around the shell of your ear, cradling it like something precious, he surely knew abstaining from temptation was a lost cause.

It was now warm, absorbing the heat of your skin. As soon as you left, his hands would probably run back cold.

Somehow, that thought made something unpleasant unfurl within your chest. It felt malleable and elastic, it wanted to stretch itself and pull him close.

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” He asked, voice low.

The whole world could be crashing down outside, Wanderers running rampant, and you wouldn’t know.

You let out a stuttered breath.

“What do you want to do with me?”

It was meant to come across as teasing but crumbled halfway into something nearly hopeful.

The heat in your eyes snapped Zayne out of it, clearing the cloudiness from the hematite and amber in his gaze.

He stepped back, returning to the haven of his desk, where he closed your file with finality.

“Your shoulder seems to be healing well. I recommend you watch it closely and let me know if any discomfort appears.” You had never heard his voice so close to shaking.

“Zayne.” You stood from the examination table, feeling on edge.

“That was unprofessional of me. I’m sorry.”

“What is it?” You insisted.

There was something between you, a wall that he carefully built.

It became eroded with every interaction, shortened into something almost letting you peek into the other side, but never quite enough.

Your chest ached and it was ironic because nowadays you couldn’t always tell if it was from emotion or the Protocore fragments in it.

Zayne sunk into his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. The room’s temperature dropped, ice spreading against the glass of the window behind him.

“Zayne—”

Your hand hovered by him, eager to provide any comfort you could offer, but his body language made you doubt.

He was still hunched over himself, face turned away from you. The hand that wasn’t covering his face was closed in a fist, frost forming over his knuckles.

“Please…” he breathed out your name. “I need time.”

Your mind drifted back to when you fought that wanderer together, the way the whole room had frozen over afterward, his urgent insistence for you to leave.

“Okay,” you gave in, stumbling back. “Whatever it is, you know I’ll wait for you.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #zayne #zayne x reader

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endless-ineffabilities · 10 days

Text

The Bolter (part four)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve realises where home is, both in 2017 and in the 1950s. The reader bolts, faced with the memory of the woman Steve cherishes. Bucky starts to find himself drawn to you.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, angst

word count : 2k

masterlist ▪︎ previous chapter ▪︎ next chapter

2017, a year after the Avengers' Civil War

It had been nearly four months of the arrangement that you and Steve shared. Hiding away in some remote cabin in Alaska.

Time was running out. You both knew you had to get a move on soon, as you can't stay in one place for too long.

If only you actually stayed put, and didn't cause Steve to worry almost every other week.

He quickly realized that you came and went when you pleased. A habit you must have picked up from your profession, one that Steve was sure would drive him to madness.

He was glaring at the newspaper he picked up from the nearest town when he made a supply run.

Your name was printed in bold lettering, along with your moniker, Huntress. Wanted for conspiring against the State, it read. You had been spotted in some other city, a blurred-out CCTV snapshot of your face included on the page.

If seen, please alert your local authorities. Suspected to be in hiding with Steve Rogers, famously known as Captain America. Reward to be disclosed.

Captain America. Steve never thought there would come a time when that name would leave a bad taste in his mouth, until now. He wondered what excuse you would have this time. Which person was it that you just needed to help? What was this important thing that justified suddenly leaving without telling Steve?

Steve hated your absence, but he knew he was being a hypocrite. He admired how eager you were to help your friends. If he was in your place, he would probably do the same.

He had begun thinking of the next plan. He knew he would always be welcome in Wakanda, but he didn't want to abuse their generosity. It would subject them to intense scrunity in the international political arena and they were already doing more than enough with just taking Bucky in.

No matter the next step, wherever the location, Steve found himself thinking of you. He would always think in terms of we, not I.

Where would we go next? Where would we be safe?

You were free to go wherever you wanted, of course. The others have been roaming different corners of the world, and maybe it was even safer that way, to spread out in those circumstances.

You could choose to go alone to a different hideout, and of course he would have to accept that.

But Steve didn't want you to leave him.

Why? What was he to you? What were you to him? Steve thought of how he never had the best timing. He knew there was something there, and you had to know it too.

He felt it whenever you would smile at him as he handed you your cup of coffee. He felt it in how comfortable it was when you would both read in silence at the opposite ends of the couch in the living room. He felt it in how much you cared, in how you understood his strong tether to Bucky.

And that small cabin was the biggest testament to it all. It was absurd, how much it felt like a home to Steve.

A home, while he was being hunted down and scorned by the country whose values he so proudly stood for and represented. A place of refuge, while everything else was in shambles.

He knew it was all because of you.

If only you would be quick in coming back home.

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You didn't mean to leave abruptly again, without giving any notice.

Really, you swore you didn't.

You were also lying to yourself. Because you knew it was all because of what Steve mentioned a few nights prior.

Or rather, who.

It was all going well, you thought. You were getting to know your dangerously attractive housemate quite well. So much so, that you had decided he would be the first one you'd call if you ever got into trouble or needed a shoulder to cry on.

Natasha would understand, of course. She had been in contact, updating on her whereabouts, and also checking in on her apparent ship.

"Ship? Here in the woods?" You had been visibly confused, stupidly glancing out the window as if that very ship would materialise.

"No, you idiot. Ship... relationship. A couple. All the kids are using it these days."

Oh. You debated acting oblivious but you knew that would never fly with someone like Natasha. Nothing really got past her, and you had to admit, your excitement flared up a little bit every time she hinted at something between you and Steve.

Nat was one of the shrewdest people you ever met, and she didn't have the habit of stirring things for no reason.

So you believed her, and you hoped.

In that cabin, in that isolated little bubble, Steve was really all you had and vice versa. Selfishly, you wished you never had to leave. You found yourself imagining that you were an actual couple, maybe even married. That you had chosen to live together in that place, and that circumstances did not just force you together.

That image quickly came crashing down, the curtains closing in the middle of a play. Because that was all it was - make believe.

You and Steve were sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace one late night, your mind going haywire because his knee was pressed against yours. Your heartbeat skipping because he would pat your leg once in a while.

Maybe it was a Steve thing. Maybe it was just a gesture people make when they tell stories to their friends. But friends wouldn't lean in so close, would they?

He eagerly shared about his life in the 30s, when he was an asthmatic hundred-pound determined youngster. When he'd only ever been Steve. He kept a box of personal things that reminded him of his era, and the two of you perused through them. You smiled at the brochure from a museum exhibit that featured him and Bucky. Tried flicking on rusty old lighters. Jokingly saluted him while putting on the pins that were circulated when he was first introduced to the public as Captain America.

Your delusional self thought you noticed his focus drifting to your lips almost every time you replied to him, and that he got that look in his eyes.

But you reached in the box and picked up what looked like a compass. You pried it open, and one glance at his face told you everything.

In it was an image of Peggy Carter, you recognised. You knew all about her and her work for SHIELD. You knew her and Steve had been acquainted back in their day, but you didn't know how much.

He leaned back almost immediately, his touch no longer on you, looking like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"Peggy Carter, right?" you offered eventually, balancing the compass in your palm. From what you can recall, she had passed recently. But clearly her ghost was still haunting Steve.

"Y-yeah," he stammered, strangely unable to look you in the eye. "I met her just before I was put to the serum, actually."

Well, that's definitely something. She knew him when he was just Steve, and she saw him. That must have left a mark.

"So... can you tell me about her?" you asked to fill the silence. To quell the barage of intrusive thoughts you had.

Steve noticed the difference in your posture, straightened back and stiff smile. You had been freely laughing moments ago, and he had been too. He wouldn't be able to remember what he said after that, distracted by the sudden coldness in your expression. He must have said something about Peggy being good at her job. About how big of an impact she made on SHIELD.

You didn't want to ask about the obvious thing, and you didn't have to. You could see it in his eyes.

You were also responding on auto-pilot. Like you were simply making small talk. The mood had changed, and you hated yourself for not looking into Steve's file with more detail. There must have been clues there about his past relationship with Peggy.

But if you had known... then what?

You would have fallen for him anyway. But at least, you would be aware that you were falling for someone who wasn't yours to keep.

Because if there ever was something, Peggy's unfading light is one you don't want to compete with.

You let the conversation go on for a few minutes more, to not arouse his suspicion, before making some excuse about being tired and needing sleep.

Hold on, you heard him plead. Maybe you can show him one of the movies you kept telling him about? The one with the Anakin character you liked?

You did your best not to cave in.

Even if all you wanted was to crumble, and kiss him hard enough that any remnants of Peggy Carter still lingering would dissipate.

When you heard that your friend Mason needed some help getting Secretary Ross off his tail, you jumped on the opportunity to leave. Even though Natasha already said she would be on it.

Of course, she saw right through you.

The task was quick and easy and soon enough, the three of you were sitting on lawn chairs in front of her cozy trailer in Norway, when Mason cheekily commented on the little arrangement you had with the Captain America.

"How do you do it?" he joked. "Being under the same roof as him, and not getting some of that? I mean, I know you're all international criminals right now, but even criminals need some loving once in a while."

"Leave her alone," Natasha quipped, pointing at him.

"We're friends," you said defensively, to which Nat raised her eyebrows at you.

"Sure, hon," she said, before taking a swig of her beer. "Shouldn't you be making your way back to him? Steve must be worried."

You shrugged, but you knew she was right. It didn't feel right being away from him like that. Running away like you were a teenager acting out.

It took you only two days to come back, with the help of one of Mason's many smuggled helicopters.

You felt his presence immediately once you stepped foot in the cabin.

Days old newspapers sprawled on the kitchen counter. Fresh coffee on the pot. The surprising but pleasant smell of baked goods coming from inside the oven.

He materialised from your periphery, wiping his hands clean on a towel. Clean-shaven once more, your eyes getting drawn to his pink lips now in clear view.

"Did you - "

"Oh, yeah," he said, gesturing towards the oven. "I tried making you something. Nat called me and said you were on your way back."

That traitor.

But then Steve added, "Welcome back," with that sheepish smile on his face, and you forgot what you were supposed to be pretending to be annoyed at Nat for.

It was comfortable, familiar, like home, when you both silently enjoyed the blueberry muffins he prepared.

You expected him to lecture you, to remind you of the dangers of running off by yourself again. But he took a gentler approach.

It felt good when he made sure you were okay, asking the same question but in three iterations. Are you okay? Did everything go well? Does anything hurt at all?

Did he know why you left so abruptly? Did he suspect anything?

Later that evening, he brought up the fact that perhaps you both should be moving on to another safe place.

You felt his eyes glued onto you, gauging your reaction.

Taking a deep breath, you said, "Okay."

Steve had been practicing what to say, how to ask you, while you were away. He would suggest that you were safer together. That the two of you could go see Bucky for a time. That it was probably smarter for you to stick with someone like him - if you ever got caught, he could use himself as leverage, negotiate in order to lighten your sentence.

But all that was no longer needed, because you asked, "Where will we go?", without wavering.

We.

It turned out Steve wasn't going to lose his home, after all.

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The 1950s, six months after Steve's arrival

Steve is certain that there must be something wrong with him.

Maybe he's just been in the fray for far too long, going from one fight to the next, that now he is supposed to settle and be at peace - he can't.

It disappoints him. He's frustrated with himself. He's become angry.

It's not fair. How does he still feel like a man out of time for someone who has returned back to where he supposedly came from. Back to where he belongs.

Peggy has noticed his frustration, so she suggested they head down to a local fancy restaurant once a week.

A recurring date of sorts, giving them the chance to spend one-on-one time together. They had both been busy - Peggy with SHIELD, Steve with his newfound job managing a local community centre.

His job was simple enough, definitely less demanding than what he's used to, and he's satisfied that he still gets to be of service. He's also refurbishing their home. Doing everything to keep busy.

Everything to keep you out of his mind.

But Hunter would stroll in when he would fit the new wooden panels for the back porch.

Hunter, his dog. Named so because Steve had the thought that Huntress would appreciate the tribute.

You would, but you aren't there.

He's supposed to be at peace now. He's supposed to finally feel at home.

But he wasn't called the man out of time for no reason, and he's come to accept that maybe they had been onto something.

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2024, six months after Steve's departure

Bucky's date is going well. At least he thinks so. Not that he would have much knowledge on how these things go nowadays.

His first date as himself, James Barnes, since the 1940s. Leah's a lovely girl, but it was mostly due to yours and Yori's instigating that he caved in and asked her out.

Well, he didn't really ask. You did. But Leah was kind enough to accept.

The conversation is fine, flowing smoothly, a couple beers shared between the two.

Leah asks how old he is, and he replies dryly, "106."

Bucky isn't sure she got it, but it's better this way. She doesn't need to know who he is, or what he's done. She wouldn't understand.

As they play a round of Battleship, Bucky wonders if you would be good at this game, if you would playfully stare into his eyes much like Leah is doing.

He thinks of how much he likes your eyes, and the way you look at him.

But he is 106 after all, so he's not some fool. He suspects that he might be a stand-in for his revered lost bestfriend. Do you see him, and only him, or is he partially hidden behind Steve's shadow?

Do you keep him around, because he reminds you of him?

Bucky decides he's not ready to know the answer to those questions. Not just yet.

Leah makes another move. He lets her win.

He calls you right after the date. You did say that he should tell you all about it.

"So how was it?" you eagerly ask right away, not even bothering with a hello.

Bucky finds himself smiling at your voice, pausing on the sidewalk on the way back to his apartment, "Have you played Battleship before?"

Read chapter five here ~

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer

Happy TTPD release day! I just knew The Bolter would be one of my favourites!!!

The final scene is in reference to the first episode of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Lil bit of a spoiler!!!! -- We'll see them all back together in the middle of that series.

There will only two-three more chapters of jumping back and forth in time. I'm also worried I'll confuse myself with the timeline. If the months/years aren't aligned with MCU canon, please ignore it.

Also - if not in the next one, then there will definitely be smut in chapter six. But with who???? Steve or Bucky? I'll let you guys speculate... 👀

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #mcu #chris evans #sebastian stan #captain america #the avengers #the bolter

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i-luvsang · 5 months

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as your college neighbors — ateez hyung line

pairing : ateez hyung line x gn!reader ➖⟢ genres : fluff, neighbor!au, college!au ➖⟢ cw : food mentions, a tiny bit of feeling insecure in yeo's part ➖⟢ wc : 0.9K

[ 🦪 ] hongjoong — oftentimes, your apartment is like a refuge to him. he gets moments of quiet, so long as the other boys haven’t crashed there for their fun times. even better, though, he gets you. even if you’re off to class three minutes after he’s arrived, the sight of you packing your backpack the same way you always do is a comfort enough for him amongst the chaos that’s swirling around him. you smile at him before swinging open the front door, reminding him that he’s free to any of the food in your kitchen (except the last few garlic cloves that you’re saving for a recipe). you make him laugh like you always do. as if he’d find reason to help himself to your waning supply of fresh garlic. little do you know, he picked up more garlic at the grocery store yesterday because he noticed you running out of it last time he was here, and he knows how much you use it in your cooking. he’ll be gone by the time you get back, he’s got classes in the evening, but you’ll see the extra ingredients right before you start to make dinner and it’ll make you smile, maybe even kiss him on the cheek next time he comes over like you do sometimes. it makes him wonder what he is to you, but no matter what, your smile alone is everything he could ever ask for.

[ 🦪 ] seonghwa — he worries, that’s all. now your fridge is full of food and it’s all from him. it started with his leftovers, after he made too much food for him and his roommate hongjoong. he didn’t even notice that you popped into his head before any of the other boys to share with this time. surely, he still give them food, but they’re stuck with the leftovers. for the record, the leftovers are amazing, and you were more than grateful for them. but at some point, as hongjoong rests on your couch for some peace of mind, you realize the dishes in your fridge are no longer leftovers from last night. you ask hongjoong if he wants any bibimbap to munch on before remembering outloud he probably ate that for dinner last night. he denies it; he ate out last night with seonghwa, yunho, and mingi. that’s how you find out that this morning’s “leftover” delivery was made just for you and it turns out that half the dishes you get for free are too. you confront seonghwa, trying to tell him not to spend all the time and money it must take for these meals on you. he tells you it’s no big deal, but now you’re always asking hwa over just so you can make him a meal. sitting in your space, looking at you from across your small dining table, seonghwa is convinced that he’s met an angel.

[ 🦪 ] yunho — he loves it when you text him that you’re on the way over. that way he can look out his bedroom window and catch sight of you walking in through the apartment complex’s front door. what he loves even more is you seated on the edge of his bed (or even better, you all the way up on it, your back resting against his pillows). something about you in his space, all comfortable and sweet looking, has his heart doing backflips. in his mind, you belong there, with him. you fit in with his things somehow, just as if it’s the only thing that could be right. sure, he loves to visit your apartment, to see you in the place where you’re most at home. it’s just that he finds pride in the fact that you look like you’re at home in his place too. it makes him happy that his space can be somewhere that you can let out a deep sigh and feel okay grabbing a snack from the kitchen after class because you came straight here from campus. call him “delusional,” as wooyoung might, but it makes him feel like you’re kinda, just a little bit, his.

[ 🦪 ] yeosang — he only comes over when one of the other guys is too, because, to be so honest, he’s too shy to go over by himself. but he loves being your neighbor. he loves knowing you’re right down the hall, he loves when you knock on his door and he opens it to the sight of you in your pajamas and a shy smile on your face. his heart drops just a bit when you ask him if san is around because secretly, so secretly, he wishes you would knock on the door looking so pretty just for him. but he thinks it makes sense. who wouldn’t want to be around san, one of the sweetest, brightest, most affectionate people out there? yeosang’s awkward and unable to show you physically or verbaly that he kind of adores you. san has no trouble with that, and yeosang sees the way it makes you smile. he wants to make you smile like that. regardless, he tells you that san went out with seonghwa and jongho and expects to lovely smile on your face to slip just a little. instead, it grows a bit, not because san’s gone, but because all you need from him is to return the textbook you borrowed and you really came because you want spend time with yeosang. you want to know him, because his awkwardness is so incredibly endearing and you don’t hear his voice as often as you’d like since you’re never alone with him. that day he finds out he’s good at making you smile, too.

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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

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Title: Final Girl.

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Word Count: 1.4k.

TW: 'Girl' Is In The Title But Reader Is Gender Neutral, Death and Blood, Mentions of Guns, Manipulation, Implied Kidnapping, and Spoilers for the Ninteenth-Century Novel Dracula.

The night you met him was, by no coincidence, also the night you learned what it meant to feel your blood run cold.

‘Met’ might’ve been an exaggeration. You didn’t meet him so much as you stood still and stared at him – lumbering down the hallway, clutching a gore-splattered butcher's knife, his suit disheveled and stained with a dark, blotting substance you couldn’t bring yourself to put a name to, in your fear-induced paralysis. With the manor's high ceilings and dim lighting, he seemed impossibly tall, his black eyes blank and terrible, his smile manic in a way that sent a chill up your spine, that left you frozen where you stood and unable to run as he came to stand in front of you, as he raised a hand and—

And pointed to the book tucked under your arm, a yellowed paperback beaten to hell and back from weeks of loving abuse. You’d spent hours wondering if you should bring it with you, if there was anyone else on the face of the planet who’d be stupid enough to bring a book to a mascarade ball, but you figured you’d have to step out for a breath of fresh air at some point, tonight, and phones weren’t really an option at this kind of thing. Looking back on it, you struggled to remember why you’d spent so much time agonizing over something so inconsequential, especially when whoever found your body likely wouldn’t pay it a second glance. “Is that—” He started, pausing to wet his lips before correcting himself. “Is that Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”

You blinked several times, shifting your weight. “It is,” you managed, eventually, just before the point of no return. “I… I’m only a few chapters in, though. They’re only on the second blood transfusion.”

His smile widened. “I’m reading it for the second time, now. That’s one of the best passages - you can practically feel the dread mounting in the prose.” While he spoke, you stole another glance at his attire. With your shock beginning to fade and your nerves given a few seconds to cool, you could see that he clearly hadn’t just walked out of a crime scene. His clothes were wrinkled, but not torn, not displaced the way they would’ve been if he’d been in a real fight, and he was covered in a cartoonish amount of (presumably fake) blood. He couldn’t have meant for it to be realistic, not unless you were supposed to believe he’d bled twenty people dry on his own.

He must’ve noticed you staring. His rambling trailed off into an airy chuckle, his free hand drifting to his blood-soaked shirt. “I’m afraid I might’ve misread my invitation,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. You were almost in awe of his nonchalance. Showing up to a masquerade ball in a costume fit for a b-rated haunted house would’ve left you catatonic for… god, the rest of the year, at least. “That’s how I found my way back here, actually. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to stay in the ballroom for very long, considering I’m dressed for a very different party.”

“No, no, that makes a lot of sense! I mean, a costume party would be more in-season.” You felt like an idiot. You could only hope you hadn’t looked as scared as you felt. “Honestly, I’m just surprised they let you in with a prop.”

He glanced to his ‘knife’, too, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, this little thing?” He took the blade in his free hand, bending it downward. Unceremoniously, it snapped into two pieces as easily as if it’d been made of little more than tin foil and plastic - which, to be fair, it probably was. “Most people struggle to see me as a threat, for whatever reason.”

“The doormen probably just felt bad for the strange man who showed up to a charity gala covered in blood.” You spared a small smile, then genuinely brightened, taking up your novel and fishing out the spare mask you’d shoved between the pages while you were getting ready. He should’ve counted himself lucky that you could never be bothered to find a real bookmark. “Mine came in a set of two,” you explained, signaling for him to bend down. A little too easily, he obeyed, stooping just low enough for you to work your spare mask over his head. It was cheaper than anything you would usually like to show off – the base simple black cloth, the embroidery meaninglessly gaudy, the main body kept in place by little more than a simple white ribbon that never seemed to sit just right, but he accepted your offering with a grateful hum. “It’s not much, but—” You paused, buttoning his suit jacket, doing your best to make it look a little less like he’d just walked out of a bad slasher movie and a little more like a tragically color-blind, but ultimately well-dressed party-goer. “It should get you through the door.”

He straightened his back, and you thought you might’ve seen something spark in his dark eyes. Then again, it could’ve just been the moonlight. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

Oh, right – that was something most people did before offering to fix a stranger’s clothes, wasn’t it? You rushed to introduce yourself, and he did the same. “Chrollo Lucilfer.” And then, offering you his hand, “Perhaps I’d be more warmly received with a plus one?”

As hesitant as you were to slip back into the ballroom on the arm of a disheveled stranger who’d already made an impression of his own, it would’ve broken your heart to turn him down. That, and you might’ve had a weakness for disheveled strangers who fell on the more handsome side of the spectrum.

You laughed as you threaded your arm through his, letting Chrollo guide you back to the main event. A second passed with only the sound of your footsteps and distance music to fill the quiet, then another. Eventually, you broke the silence. “It’s very well-written,” you started, trying to fight the urge to fidget. “But… I don’t think I’m the right audience. I care too much about Lucy. Seeing her go through so much and knowing she’s not going to make it is just—” You sighed, shook your head. “It’s agony. Especially when the villain is literally in the title. I mean, I know the characters don’t know that, but still.”

“The benefit of a voyeur's perspective.” For all his glowing praise, he didn’t seem very offended. “I think the dramatic irony is part of the appeal. By the time the tension breaks, it’s nearly too painful to keep going.”

“Which is exactly why it hurts to read,” you groaned, slumping into his side. “I get why it’s happening, but I just can’t stand spending so long on the build-up knowing how it’s going to end. It probably doesn’t help that Lucy’s one of my favorites, either. Well, aside from Mina, but it wouldn’t be fair to compare her to the author’s self-insert.”

The two of you came to a pair of rounded oak doors. There’d been a pair of attendants stationed outside when you left, but Chrollo didn’t seem to mind shouldering it open himself, ushering you inside with a smile and an idle gesture. You took a second to steel your nerves, still not entirely prepared to throw yourself into a very crowded room filled with very loud music and very eager socialites, then crossed the threshold, coming face to face with—

Carnage. Pure, unadulterated carnage.

There were bodies everywhere, each corpse mangled and bruised and broken in every possible way. Dark blood and broken glass covered the formerly pristine ivory floor, and the walls were painted with the remnants of gunfire. A few people were still standing – the murderers, you figured, judging by the blood on their outlandish clothes, the weapons in their hands, the indifferent agitation written across their expressions as you stared at them in horror, as your heart threatened to give out for the second time that night. The tallest man you’d ever seen pointed a hand-held machine gun in your direction, but Chrollo found his way back to your side, resting a hand on your shoulder as he spoke. “Hold your fire,” he said, casually, as if you weren’t standing at the edge of a bloodbath. As if he’d known what he was leading you into. “I think I’m going to keep this one.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. The air hitched in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back and forcing you to meet his unblinking stare. You’d been right the first time. There was never anything his eyes could’ve been but terrible. “I always did like Mina.”

There was never anything he could’ve been but a monster, prowling for his next kill.

“I guess I just have a soft spot for survivors.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter imagines #yandere hxh #hxh imagines #yandere chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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spdrvyn · 11 months

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i'll be lonely with you — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: with the passage of time and whispers from your acquaintances at the spider society HQ, you've found out that your boss has a habit of sneaking out of his office during the dead hours of night to eat dinner. completely alone.

NOTES: new formatting for fics !!! do you guys like it? :3 i decided to include summaries that way it would be easier for people to understand the general jist of the plot without me spewing nonsense in the notes. anyways enjoy !!!!! thanks for the support on my recent works as well ^_^

You didn't consider yourself the most introverted person.

Even when it came to hundreds of Spider-people, you tried to get to know who you could and become acquainted with as many of them as possible. How could you not?

However, there were few that you knew on a more personal level. People that you'd keep close to your side whenever you visited headquarters. People that you'd enjoy having an exchange of gossip with during lunch in the bustling cafeteria.

Miguel O'Hara wasn't exactly one of those people.

It's not like you didn't want to develop something more than a boss-coworker relationship. Though, conversations with him were always difficult, to the say the least. Most of the time, he's talking about work and anything that goes past that boundary goes unspoken.

Quite literally. You've forgotten the amount of times that you've built up the courage to mention anything about your other (not deceased) relatives or your friends and the amount of times that the room was filled with a silence so awkward that crickets are on the same volume as missile launchers.

Though, you didn't want to lose hope. You sort of understood where he was coming from. People go through grief and mourning in different ways, Miguel's was probably just isolation and a complete avoidance of discussions of personal life.

He was a leader. A good one. A trait of a good leader is to connect with their subordinates, establish relationships. So it really made you think.

How messed up was he that he missed that one quality?

"Hey. Your food's getting cold." There it goes, the sound of your train of thought leaving the station. Sometimes, you were grateful for Jess being there for you. She could snap you back to reality you like nobody else could.

You mutter an apology before stabbing your salad with your fork and taking a bite, Jess rests her head on her palm. Raising a brow at you, "So, did you want to eat lunch with me for fun or are you just using me to get info about Miguel? Again?"

Nervously, you shake your head. "It's nothing like that!" She leans in a little more, waving her other free hand in the air in a circular motion.

"...But if you have anything that you'd like to share then I'm not going to refuse entirely—"

"Oh my god. Fine, fine. What do you want to know?"

With that question, it felt like your mind blanked. You fidgeted with your fork, twirling a leaf of your salad against the plate as you pondered on what question to ask.

Jess responds with a deep sigh, "If you're trying to find a way to talk to him more, he doesn't leave that office of his much unless it's for work. He's in there most of time. Although..."

"Although?"

"Although, I've seen him come here normally somewhere around midnight to get a very late dinner alone. The place is less crowded, most are just in their own universe or sleeping or working."

Your face falls a little upon hearing that. "So I can only catch a non-serious conversation with him... in the middle of the night?"

"Exactly. Besides, there's a good chance he's going to just— continue talking about work with you whether he's in his office or not. You know that, right?"

You drop your utensil in defeat, burying your face shamefully in your hands. "I know..."

You quickly wrap up your lunch with Jess, as she shares bits and pieces about him. You had really wondered how she was able to learn all of these things about him anyway but before you had the opportunity to ask her, she told you to not.

Respecting her wishes, you keep your mouth shut. Respecting her even further, you decide to pack up both of your plates and wave her a goodbye before picking up those thoughts that you were left a while ago.

Admittedly, you didn't know why you were so persistent for something like this, for someone like him.

Determination was a strength of yours but that didn't mean that you didn't know where your limits rested and you would back off when you needed to.

There was just something. A swirling feeling in your gut that was telling you to keep going.

That it would be worth it.

So, you follow everything that Jess told you. Around midnight, he'd be alone, in the cafeteria, and looking for an empanada to snack on before heading back into his office. A very small fraction of his time left for personal conversation if you tried hard enough!

This most likely wasn't a good idea. You didn't sleep at all through the day but the thrill kept you alive and thriving. You confidently stride up to the counters of the cafeteria, picking out a small bag of chips for yourself and the last empanada for your soon-to-be snack companion.

Now, you wait.

You surveyed your surroundings and as you were doing that, you realize why he particularly emerges during these kinds of hours to eat. There was a significantly less amount of people.

Whenever you came here during the day, it was a miracle to be able to find completely empty seats. At times, you were forced to sit with a group of people.

You weren't entirely ungrateful for that though, you've made a lot of friends that way. Sure, it was awkward at first but the more you were forced to interact with people that way, the more you adapted to making small talk.

Even then, there were a lot of tables that were taken here save for one completely empty one at the far end.

Then, you finally see that navy and red suit.

Deciding to observe him just a little bit more, you watch him curse under his breath seeing the display case for the empanadas empty. Before he walks away any further, you tap him on the shoulder.

His mask was on, his eyes widen a little bit before you hand him the small box. "I saved the last one for you."

With a soft huff, you see the muscles in his shoulders and back grow loose once more, he hestitantly takes the container from your hands. Looking at it then looking back at you, "Thanks."

You two share a few seconds of awkward silence, you felt a little exposed. You decided to unmask for this because you wanted him to feel more comfortable talking to you rather than who you were as a Spider-person yet there's still that same awkwardness in the air.

Clearly without nothing to do and no idea on how to makem something better out of this, Miguel's about to walk off before you stop him once more.

"W— wait," A little piece of yourself dies inside as you hear yourself stutter but nevertheless, you keep going. "Uh, there aren't any other spots so is it alright if I sit you? I don't know any of the people here."

The way that you see the eyes through his masks narrow ever so slightly once the question escapes your throat makes your heart quiver like crazy.

You wanted to get to know him but damn, if you said that he didn't scare you sometimes then you would be lying.

You cry on the inside with sweet victory as he says...

"Fine."

That was it. That was all you got but you gladly take it! You have to catch up to him though because once you're done mentally celebrating, he's already a little bit far from you.

You try your hardest to keep your head straight but you can't help but look up and spare him one glance, the fact that you even had to look up at him really only emphasized your height difference with him.

Another factor that made you just a little bit more intimidated by him, his physique. You considered yourself to be of average height, you weren't the tallest person in the room but you were never the shortest as well. Just average.

The way he practically towered over you, his hand nearly being the size of your head. It made you feel something.

The moment that both of you have a seat, you take your opportunity.

"So, is there anything that you plan on doing after this?"

You get a little distracted once his mask comes off, he raises an eyebrow at you, crimson eyes that feel like they're looking straight into your soul. Though, side-tracked as he bites into the dough and meaty goodness of his empanada, with a shrug— he replies,

"Not really. Unless there's an anomaly I haven't heard of yet then I have no plans. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. Was just curious is all." Why was this so hard?!

The conversation goes as what you expected. You'd ask a question every moment or so and he'd give you a short response before going back to his food. He wouldn't ask you anything back, wouldn't add any 'unnecessary' comments. Just bask in the silence.

You simply couldn't take it anymore, you didn't know how to express your interest in him without asking him more questions about himself which he seems to avoid trying to answer.

You couldn't ask him about his hobbies because he'll most likely say that he's too busy working to actually spend time gaining and branching out to different interests.

Dejectedly, you sigh. "I'm sorry for imposing— on your alone time, I mean." It was like everything that you wanted to say just kept spilling out of your mouth.

"I didn't want to eat with you at this hour because I pity you or— or I found you lonely or whatever. I just thought that whenever you weren't talking about work, we'd be able to get along."

You stand up from your seat, eyes mindlessly darting arounf the labels of the bag of 'Spider-O's' in your clutches.

"I'll, uhm, let you eat in peace now. Once again, I'm—"

"Wait."

Which ever brain cells died from that interaction certainly reignited now. "Sit back down," It comes off an order. An order you certainly obey.

"I wouldn't have actually said yes to you if I didn't want to talk." He starts. "I know a lot of people but it's not in the same way that you do. I know their names, their faces, their canon events. You know their feelings, their mindscapes, and their troubles—"

"—And those are the exact kinds of things that I can't comprehend most of the time. We understand people differently, is what I'm saying. I still have no idea why exactly you sought out me of all people but I will... try to gain this new perspective of things."

You want to tamp down the smile that creeps up on your lips as you hear those words but you can't. What he said, it all made sense now. You couldn't see the full picture still, but you were willing to find it—

"I understand. It's fine."

"So? Do you have plans after this?"

Together.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #fluff #romance #kind of #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #jessica drew #jess drew #spiderwoman #made this one extra sappy for u guys #miguel can be #so hard to write sometimes #hope i did him justice here

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

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throw another stone at a glass house

request/summary; your writing literally gives me life. love it sm <3 would you be able to do something where jj and the reader get into an argument at dinner but they have a rule to never go to sleep mad at each other?

pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings; fluff & angst, maybe a bit suggestive

authors note; love loved writing this anon :,) pls continue to send in requests ! gif creds to owner

His cured blood was boiling— searing even.

Eatery being complacent, fairy bulbs roped neatly and whimsically throughout the establishment. Fake plastic plant leaves braided about the paneled open roof. The trimming on the tables simplistic and clothed white, any other vibrancy would clash with the modern elegance that was being established. Clammer from steel trays and the mouthy Kooks that JJ was rubbing elbows with.

His attire is classy to fit his false image— dapper wrinkle-free black button up: buttons done up until the narrowing of his chest, not too revealing, not too Pogue-like. Arms broad and fibrous, giving quite the show whilst they bulged and unbulged with every movement he made. Grey slacks, steamed specifically for this event, an absolute fool as to not recognizing himself cleaned up so pleasantly.

The amount of meals he missed simply for this one meal, to scrimp and scrape pennies together merely to see a joyous picture-perfect smile planted on your face.

And he hadn’t told you he was doing so, but for about around a month now he’s been saying ‘Got a special night for us in the works baby.’

You knew it was tonight and you knew the address.

It wasn’t a familiar one, no, the both of you, Pogues, and not having heard of such a lavish restaurant. Hell, JJ was even awestruck himself when he stepped foot in the door.

But to him it was showing you a glimpse into the future with him. The life he would scavenge to define, to escape the one he’s living in now.

Full Kook.

But, nevertheless a Pogue at heart.

With that being said, he cannot fathom as to why you wouldn’t be here.

As to why you wouldn’t be here basking in the night, with him.

As to what could possibly be any more revelation, right here.

“Sir, are you ready to order yet?”

The same lanky waiter, with a nasal like voice spoke— and the irritation of it made JJ’s skin crawl. His class bow tie, with upheld posture was something JJ cut his eyes at, interrupting his thoughts as he already done prior.

“I told you no the past three times, didn’t I?”

JJ bit back at the man, partially because he’d been to JJ’s table all those times within the span of twenty minutes, not to mention prior to when he’d arrived two hours ago. The waiters mouth turns up in disgust.

“M’waitin’ for my girl, alright?”

He proceeds to add, confirming again to not come back unless he proclaimed he was ready. A kind way of saying ‘fuck off’.

“We cannot continue to keep holding your table this long, there are other people waiting to eat.”

“I’ll call her.”

The waiter clicks his tongue, spinning on his heels to the rest of his section to serve. And JJ presses your contact in his phone, as he did thirty six calls ago— to be exact.

Pitiful, going straight to voice mail, beating organ falling straight to his half-cut boot clad feet.

Pissed, seeing to it that he should be. All this money, all this devotion, only for it to go to waste due to you not being on time?

JJ would give his soul away not feel this.

On the verge of flipping over this table and making a scene just for shits and giggles, or to cope.

The reason you were late was anonymous to him. A slumber took over you, sleeping in later than usual after work, exhausted in that shared apartment. Forgetting to charge your phone, all events that pushed you farther and farther behind. Remnants leaving you pressed to get ready for the event, all whilst having to catch a ride from Kie.

One would probably wonder why JJ simply didn’t wait for you to get ready and just drive you to the surprise himself. He was too adamant, prying on the idea that, even appearance would be a remembrance factor.

Small heels colliding with cement in a clack sound, digits on the iron knob studying the building once more, to assure yourself this location was right.

Pulled straight out of a dream.

And you prodded on the thought of JJ affording this, the effort that went into it. Wondering why he thought he had to spend so much just on you, yet impressed with your boyfriend— if only you knew the sheer devastation upon him.

The red lacey satin of your dress was enough to turn heads and you did just that, strutting whimsically to the front podium to be sat at the table with JJ. Every Kook eye studied you, but you spotted one head of hair in particular. Sat in a dainty wooden chair that caused his back to be turned to you.

Numerous round tables, purely yearning for just that one.

That one with the unearthly being; light locks dancing over his features, and a jawline fierce enough to cut paper.

The one that’s battling with himself as to wether or not to make a big deal out of this, the moment he saw you next.

Little did he know you were feet away, gawking at him and the entirely ethereal gesture he did for you.

Jesus, he looks so fucking hot.

Dapper.

Heat growing on his neck whilst he feels a shadow standing over him, he continues to play with the given metal utensils in front of him.

Perhaps the knife grazing past his fingertips, would pain much less than the ache of disappointment surging in him.

He almost, turns to face the shadow preparing to tell the waiter off. But as his sense receptors fill with that familiar warm vanilla scent ...

He doesn't.

He doesn't because he knows it's you.

And he's gathering himself for the argument that's about to ensue.

Did JJ want to fuss and fight with you?

Absolutely not, he avoids confrontation at any given moment.

However, he is also human and can only take so much.

Your graceful hand stretches over his flexed back, tensing up at a touch that would normally lull him away into no tomorrow. Blue orbs daggering into your figure overtop his eyelashes, clearing his throat at your presence. Your chair scratched along the patterned wooden floor, a notion JJ always does; pulling your chair out.

This time, you do it with no complaints; declaring to avoid the subject at hand. Acknowledging that you were in deep shit with your lover.

That exact lover teaching you so: deny, deny, deny.

And God, that dress is hugging you so tight his hairs stand up on his neck. Alluring and sensual.

If he wasn't so fucking livid, he'd rile himself up enough to temper delicate, mouth-biting, love marks to your neck.

Over

And over

Again.

Until he got his fill.

You're supposed to be mad at her, JJ thought to himself.

"Hi, J!"

His insides rumbled as if he ate sour food.

But, no food would be eaten tonight.

"Hey."

His tone laced with malice and defeat. The worse kind of greeting, not the usual 'baby' or 'pretty girl' attached to it.

Then you knew were in for it.

"Thank you for tonight, s'so pretty baby."

Reading you, he knew you were probably thinking how he managed to get a table here. But something this polite, it was uncalled for to ask such a question.

"Yeah, it was prettier earlier."

He muttered under his breath, with his face contorting into a frown. Across the table yet so far away, the bright light of the eatery highlighting his cheek bones so handsomely. And you longed for him to be, himself.

"What'd you say?"

His words unclear, he was someone that usually has a voice prominent enough to hear from miles away; so it couldn't have been anything loving.

"Nothin'."

Accent think and harsh, eye contact here and there, though it wasn't anything promising.

"Gonna' have to fix your face J, it might ruin the night."

You gasped out a laugh, but to JJ it wasn't fucking funny.

If he wanted to glower, then he'd do so and he meant it.

How dare you joke about something he busted his ass to do, money that could've been enough to pay the apartments rent that month.

He thought you were being ungrateful and that you didn't appreciate him.

First you were behind time, and now you're laughing in his damn face beating around the obvious bush that was weighing him down.

And he can't help himself.

"No ... you ruined the Goddamn night!" He spat, voice broad and demanding, through grit teeth. Knowing that if he spoke any louder the couple would be asked to leave.

He's disgusted with you for being so careless with his feelings.

A night that was supposed to be filled with desperate, needy touches, and bellies full of the finest food; JJ could find it coming to a halt.

You grew ansty in your seat at his remark, lungs missing air and guilt replaced it.

Remorse entering your features.

Falling apart at the cause of his disfunction being you.

"I didn't mean to, JJ."

You reach for his hand across the table, veins apparent and digits long; in effort to console him for your mishap of being extremely late. And he lets you interlock your finger with his upsettingly, though he waited for that same touch all night; unable to deny any touch from you.

To get his point across, he lets go.

"But, you did."

He corrected you with a tilt of his head, replacing your missing fingers with a comb through his hair.

"I-I overslept after work ... and-"

"That's such bullshit. Do you know how many long hours I worked for tonight? Just for you to not be here?"

The palm of his hand slams against the table, drawing the attention of the couple next to the two. You hurriedly shush him, bringing his anger back down to earth.

"M'trying to say sorry JJ."

Both sets of eyes glare at eachother as if in competition, and JJ's stomach whirls.

"I don't want a sorry, I wanted you to be here."

"Well ... well, I'm here now. We can still order, J."

You try again but ultimately fail.

"M'not sitting here with you and pretending like everything's 'dandy', when you fucked everything up."

His words were cold and emotionless. You search for everything to say, but all that JJ said clarified it for you. Your sullen heart thumped, salty tears brimming at corners of your eyes.

Making you feel small.

Fighting to prevent them, so you didn’t fall apart in the middle of this restaurant.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

He wasn’t cruel, not enough away, to leave you here with no way back to the shared home.

No matter how big the fight or the cause of it, it always left JJ wondering if you still besotted him the way he did you.

He wondered why, altogether going with the fact that nothing was ever permanent in his life,

Did you still crave him— on your lips, in your lungs, and beneath your skin?

One way to describe the ride home was— sickeningly tense.

Amid his rage, his hand clutches the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. Stealing glances at you, hoping you didn’t hate him. Neither of them able to etch a sentence, whilst the radio played and you sat turned with your knees to the door staring out of the window.

Oddly close enough to your position now.

On the edge of your side of the bed. Admiring JJ peel off his pants and unbutton his shirt, leaving them aimlessly on the carpeted floor— stripped down to his only boxers.

You’d thought you wouldn’t get much comfort tonight, being that he avoided even still after arriving home. Mustering a ‘gonna’ pick up the kitchen’, knowing full well it was only to an excuse to not be up under you while you both were overstimulated and on edge. Leaving you to get the bed ready and practice your night time routine. That’s why you are in the pajama attire of JJ’s t-shirt, his musk still attached to it.

His flesh on fire, conscious that you were boring at him.

‘When you fucked everything up,’ stung your chest and tainted your mind.

Reflecting, he’d wished he would’ve cut you some slack.

His baby, that he hoped for on nights when he had no one.

He baby, that he hoped for on every shooting star.

His baby, that he hoped for in a crowd of people.

His baby.

There was this rule book.

This rule book, was true and real, and contained all the expectations you and JJ had for eachother being together. It was for numerous reasons to begin with, but a year passed by and another and they fully became implicated.

The rule book was a thin black note book, adorned with two red pairs of lips. One was yours, and one was JJ’s— having put red lipstick on his puckered lips, afterwards staining your entire face with them.

Painting your face with his desire for you.

And still that notebook remains framed in the living room, just above the TV.

Rule #1: Never go to sleep mad at eachother.

It was in big, chunky black letters— JJ wrote it and with every letter he wrote he meant it more. One would think cheating would be at the top of the list— but that wasn’t a worry.

It wasn’t a concern because if JJ could inject you into his veins he would do just that.

And so would you.

Opening up his heart to you was not a thing he’d ever regret doing.

Letting himself become infatuated with you, and letting you treat him the way he deserved to be.

You’d silently prayed that JJ would enforce the rule tonight, seeing as even though you did fuck up, you had reason to be irate as well.

His feet pad against the khaki carpet to switch off the bedroom lights. Miscellaneous TV show, playing whilst it illuminated his appearance. He made a b-line for his side of the bed, queen size engulfing him. And you did the same, twisting to lie in bed next to him, but not right beside him.

Lying the exact same— backs flat against the black silk sheets, duvet pulled up past either arms. Pairs of eyes darting at the the other. Except JJ’s left arm is behind his head, the muscle fissuring with ease as it grooved forward from the small glance you got. His right arm is the one closest to you, flat in the open space between the two.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know how to lay.

He is so use to having skin on skin contact, but now he’s lying alone and deprived of your touch.

And you would initiate but you quiver at being denied again.

“Y’know you can’t go to sleep yet.”

His raspiness booms and echoes off the walls, causing you to jump in the slightest. Still continuing to look forward at the cinema before him, you bore into him with furrowed eyebrows— head turning on the firm pillow.

“How come?”

His insides fluttered at your melodic and rhythmically put together voice.

He’s still scolding to the touch, but realizing his tad of unreasonableness consumes him. Turning to his side, he faces you, an everlasting lump in his throat.

“Rule number one-“

“Never go to bed mad at eachother.”

You finish his sentence, and his mouth is partially open. Heartbeat becoming deathly, hands clammy at him bringing the rule book up. He remembered.

He remembered it all.

“So can we stop being mad?”

He pleads, voice cracking in the slightest.

Giving himself to you in every way possible.

Vulnerability only amendable when he’s near you.

Enchanted and explicitly, letting you suck his soul in.

And he didn’t care.

“I was never mad at you J, you were mad at me.”

Solely, truthful acknowledging that you couldn’t be viled at him chewing you out at dinner. Feeling like you deserved every bit of it.

“I s-shouldnt have said that, baby m’sorry.”

His lone hand encapsules your shoulder, the pet name leaving his mouth smoothly, a part of his everyday vocabulary. You crane your neck to place small pecks to each one of his knuckles, showing each one more attention than the last.

“S’okay, I get it J.”

“Just wanted us to have tonight, for us.”

“I ruined it, I know-“

“Nothing’s ruined … we still have us.”

His head lowers, lips puckering in the faintest way. Softly pressing with yours, all whilst enveloping you closer into his frame. An embrace his sore body hungered for. Tongue delving into your mouth, molding together like puzzle pieces. Angrily kissing to make up for the love lost today, he hummed at the comforting sensation.

“And m’not letting go of that, baby.”

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solarmorrigan · 26 days

Note

Hello there! I’m not entirely sure if you’re still doing the whole angsty-ish prompt thing, but if you are could please consider doing, “Shit, are you bleeding!?”, with steddie and Steve being the one bleeding?

Maybe Steve never actually took care of his bat wounds and they reopened or smth??

If not then that’s totally fine! Feel free to ignore :)

THIS IS VERY LATE, I'M SORRY. I know you sent this request months ago, and believe it or not, I didn't forget about it! It haunted me. (Not really, but I did keep it in mind, and I finally managed to get a little thing out for it! I hope this is a little like what you had in mind?)

[CW: blood, mentions of injury]

They’ve done it.

They’ve actually fucking done it.

They pulled off the whole stupid plan, no one is dead (except for Vecna), they’re right-side up, the gate has resealed itself – it’s over.

They won.

And now, there’s just one thing left to do.

Nothing official, really, just something Eddie had promised himself he would do if he actually managed to survive (odds hadn’t seemed to be in his favor at the time, so he hadn’t expected to have to follow through, but he’d also promised himself there would be no more running away). In a way, he’d promised Steve, too, so he thinks he’d better deliver.

(At least, he hopes that’s what he’d communicated to Steve; he hopes that’s what that meaningful look and that significant nod that passed between them had meant and that he’s not about to get his ass kicked after surviving the siege of a bat tornado in a mirror version of his trailer in a fucked up alternate dimension.)

Eddie gives Dustin one last affectionate pat on the back, skirts around where Robin is babbling something enthusiastically at Nancy, who looks a little too shellshocked to do much more than listen with an almost disbelieving smile, and makes it over to where Steve is standing by the front door. He’s got his back to the group, hunched over a little as he fiddles with something beneath his unzipped jacket, but he perks up the moment he hears Eddie’s voice.

“Steve,” Eddie calls, more quietly than the last time, but with no less gravity, and just like last time, Steve turns back, his gaze falling heavily on Eddie.

Before he can talk himself out of it, and horribly aware that this isn’t really the best time or place (but then again, if not here, then where? If not now, when?), Eddie steps closer, steps right into Steve’s space, cups one hand to his ash-smudged cheek, and leans in to kiss him.

He barely even has a moment to wonder if he’s made a monumental mistake before Steve is kissing him back, tilting his head and pressing closer and moving his lips against Eddie’s like this is all he’s ever wanted to do. If the rest of the trailer has fallen conspicuously silent, Eddie doesn’t notice.

The kiss doesn’t last long (not as long as Eddie would like), but that’s alright; it feels like there will probably be more.

“Wanted to do that earlier,” Eddie murmurs as they pull apart. “But I didn’t want you to think it was some kind of last-ditch wish fulfillment because I thought I was going to die. Figured now would be better.”

“Now is good,” Steve says softly; his eyes are a little hazy, a little unfocused (and damn, had Eddie done that?), but they find Eddie’s without trouble. "Now is great."

And then it’s Steve’s hands on Eddie’s face, curled carefully at the edges of his jaw, drawing him in for another kiss. It’s only the feeling of something wet sliding across Eddie’s skin that distracts him and makes him pull back. Steve’s hands fall away, and Eddie reaches up to swipe over his jaw and looks down at his hand.

His heart thumps when he sees red.

“Am I–?” He reaches up again, rubbing his fingers across his skin again, but he feels no pain, finds no injury. “Are you–?” Eddie looks now at Steve’s hand, heart jumping again when he sees more of the same smeared across Steve’s fingers. “Shit, are you bleeding?”

Steve frowns, reaching up with his clean hand to try to swipe the mess away with his thumb. “Sorry,” he mumbles, but he sounds distant now, a little breathless in a way that Eddie can’t blame on any kiss.

Eddie reaches out and spreads his hands under Steve’s jacket, pushing it open to get a good look at him, and finds the damning dark spots spreading across the fabric of the t-shirt underneath.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses. “Shit, shit, Steve–”

“Might’ve pulled something,” Steve murmurs, “fighting Vecna.”

“You think?” Eddie is aware that he’s getting a bit shrill, but he thinks that he really can’t be blamed. “Wheeler!”

Nancy is there in an instant, and Robin is at Steve’s side just as he starts to wobble. She gets an arm around his back and he hisses, reminding them all that the bat bites on his sides aren’t the only wounds he’d sustained.

And then Nancy is barking instructions, and Robin is talking, quiet and rapid-fire at Steve as they sit him down on the couch, and Dustin is demanding to know what’s wrong (and if Eddie thought he’d been getting shrill–), and Eddie only manages to get him out of the vicinity by telling him to go call an ambulance.

“He’s gonna be fine, Henderson, but we need help,” Eddie says firmly, giving him a shove in the direction of the phone. “We’ve got him, he’ll be fine.”

And Eddie hopes to God, to Satan, to who-the-fuck-ever it is he’s supposed to be praying to at this point, that he isn’t lying to the kid.

He’s just gotten Steve – he can’t lose him now.

#kennahjune #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #Steve will be fiiiine I promise #solar wrote #answers from solar

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adoregojo · 13 days

Text

★- haunted by the trails of you.

a/n: here's some more angst i had in drafts and now I'm setting it free. wanted more pain but this what yall are getting for now d: (potentially getting a part two)

summary: their first anniversary without you, and you'd still be haunting them. !! gn reader!! characters: isagi, reo, rin. warnings: men. hurt/barely an comfort, the word 'vomit', blood mentions in rin's part, appear of other characters. perhaps heavy angst?

isagi: it was at his own home. for what he can fathom, isagi isn't considered as someone who's hooked on the past. at least that's what he pinned his head to. what had chronicles should've been a lesson, something that'll help him move forward, a memory that'll get him through to his feet again.

once the past had been written, there was no undoing. only exceptions and take the moral out of it.

sometimes isagi wished he had tugged on that enough as much as he tugged his heart to yours.

he was about to send himself a clout. has he learned nothing? why can't he draw a clear line without the ghost of you obsessing in every corner of his life? so instead, he botches his hair to untidy navy-blue locks flying out of place, mumbling cusses to none other than himself.

He bet he looked like a madman, uttering loathes undertone within every step upon a stair he took. He swore he spotted a middle aged lady covering her son's ears in horror. maybe he wasn't muttering as low as he thought.

it was saturday, in which isagi takes a day off to greet his parents from time to time. and he wasn't gonna cancel that over some feelings he might've got the wrong end of the stick about, it was probably just lingering lust and affection he had for you, but I'll past. clinging to the mere possibility and ignoring the ache that remains for too long than intended.

swirling the keys with his bare hands, isagi can view the frigid smoke of his breath appearing with every puff he let out. the tips of his fingers and knuckles were embarrassing standing out an angry shade of red, he forgot his gloves, again ,recalling: yoichi never really had to bat an eye when it comes to gloves. he'll even do it on purpose since you wouldn't think twice before launching yours to his frosty hands, while interlocking your hands with the other one.

now that he mentioned it, he always recollect how futile of an attempt it was. because the back of his hand will always remain polar, but at that time, it didn't carried a feather. he didn't really mind freezing to death if it meant I'll be in your arms. then he'll die any day.

isagi remains stationary, until his forehead rests the irony of his house door. he didn't know if he was deeply disappointed in himself, or just drowned by the sweet bygone days. gabbling something about how an idiot he was before taking a deep lungful of air and finally opening the door.

flinging his shoes to gods knows where, at this state even his mother's berating wouldn't budge a bone in him, yeah, this is how bad it was.

to his astonishment, there were no trails of his parents. isagi called, shouting once, twice. and gave up on the third time. he jogs around to the kitchen era, like expected: a dangling note covering some plate, informing him that they went out and they'll be back before dinner.

isagi just let out a defeated sigh, an obvious pessimistic wave looming over him. he was genuinely hoping to spend a family-time right away, and something to divert him away from the wraith of you.

a part of him wondered, what answer could he hand his parents, breaking the fact that you two were no longer together. his parents always loved you, adored you even. they'd definitely be shattered, he'll just muddle it by saying that you two drew apart till an ultimate downfall drilled up a hole in your relationship, leading to a break up. they’ll buy it, right?

blindly, isagi carried out the plat, slamming it flatly against the wooden table of the living room. making himself comfortable on the couch that held on the glimpse of his childhood, it was a pleasant to be at home again, and one of a great distraction.

he needed it.. anything to sway him away from the remainder of what name of this day earned..

from the corner of his eye, he spotted a second note. scoffing at himself isagi gets a grasp on it, living on the thought it might've been his parents requesting him to do chores, or just asking him to take extra care of himself.

isagi consulted it, even when a part of him begged him not to.

‘dear, yocchan. we really hope you'll be the one to read this, but if not! hello yoichi’s partner, that's quite embarrassing if you're reading this hahaha. but anyway, we figured that today is your two anniversary, isn't that just great? We remember just yesterday they were being introduced to us for the first time. What a good time to be alive, but anyway. There's some surprise cake for the two of you to share! Happy anniversary, you lovebirds.- your mother (in law).”

‘don't get too carried away please! - your father (in law).”

isagi flouts, bitterly. so sorely that all the rock-hard grip of his hand went straight to poor paper, ripping it apart to fall into small chunks. the stomach-bug swirl, not the one with the butterflies plopping in the depths of his stomach, swarming with to define a new level of bliss. but a disgusting ache of venom mobbing, making him want to vomit in an instant.

if it wasn't for his neighbors, isagi would've outcry his lungs out of frustration. but he wasn't on the field, where his anger planted. Now it's just a sad smile etching on his features.

and maybe a drip of a few tears..

how long were you planning on haunting him for..

reo: he had to delete it.. for the longest period, reo had never been so glued on what he busted by his own hands, words and ego. he had no one to blame but himself, and yet no amount of strength that earth granted him, no matter how the sky have bore in tears gleaming the ground, a pool of agony cries pleading for him to do it.

all that and he’d still struggle to press the delete button. He just couldn't.

“man, just delete it already.” chigiri cried out, slamming his palms against the skin of his forehead. He was tired. and he wasn't even getting paid to deal with this shit.

“it's easier for you to say it, you don't get it.” reo sassed back, trudging inches away from the redhead who's eyes twitched in disbelief.

nagi and chigiri一well, mostly chigiri, have been summoned by a cry for help from their shared friend. just for the end of the world to be him trying to delete the pictures and videos of you and him, his ex that lived in his head rent free.

it was a wretched sight to see, his eyes were tearing up while scrolling through your memories together. chigiri一god’s greatest soldier, was really, really doing everything he can to encourage reo back on his feet. It was like helping a spineless creature to straighten up.

it's quite impressive, he can use all his abilities on soccer pitches, give his best assists, be the heart, the mind and the soul of the field. Yet behind the plate was a completely different person, a hopeless guy curled up in a ball of your blanket that carried most of your left cologne, and sobbing till the sunrise. and today was a special show, he was absolutely shattered because your scent was slowly vanishing.

all chigiri can do is pinch the bridge of his nose in foiling, “listen, how about we go out or something? there's a nearby place we can get lunch and-”

“they used to love that restaurant¦” reo whines, shoving his phone into the redhead face, it carried a picture of you smiling blissfully and unaware, cheeks rife with food. “they're.. cute, so cute it makes me want to die.” falling backwards on the silky duvet of the queen-sized bed.

“Please don't, I still need my monthly allowance on genshin.” the one time nagi decided to finally say something, it had to be this. and chigiri never wanted to zip up someone's mouth so badly.

“you keep on stabbing yourself in the throat, you dumbass. if you can't do it then I'll do it for you.” stretching out his arm, opening up his palms for reo to hand over the phone and get this over with already.

in an instant, the phone was being embraced tightly to his chest, “no! I can do it myself, I just need some time," Chigiri just raised his hands in surrender, mumbling a quick ‘whatever’ as he jumped out the bed, leaving the extra space for his friend to grieve, alone.

it was a miracle that his tears still remain un-parched. Every photo he scroll through, the lump in his throat narrows painfully. clinching his lips upwards every time he crossed over while you were smiling, it hurts so good. He doesn't recognize whatever the knot in his stomach was reducing in sorrow or ecstatic.

he wasn't trashing any of those, he couldn't find it in his heart too. instead of criticizing himself of what he should've said to make you stay, what could've he done to swoon your heart instead of fleeting it. you'll keep on tip-toeing around his heartstrings and he'll let you without a charge.

he squeaked in his pillow, he just kept on bruising himself, torturing himself by the dim memory of what the two of you had once. something that not even money could regain or even soothe on. he yearned for one more kiss, one more embrace, one more chance to get a glimpse of you and he'll die a happy man, that's a lie, he'll misses you even after death.

he wished for you to come and haunt him, eat him to bits. but it was like he was the one haunting the crumbs of you.

on the middle of his groaning mess, an amber eyes staring sharply at him, his figure casting a shadow over his state. “here, drink up.” nonchalant, he handed him a random juice he ‘eeny, meeny’ his way to. reo accepted the drink, his arm sluggishly taking it. chigiri swore he was about to crack the glass over his head if he wouldn't stop this pitiful little act of his.

“why are you even this hardcore sad? you were never like this in the last weeks.”

“it's their anniversary, but not anymore I guess.” nagi shrugged, still too focused on the screen of his phone to pay the slightest amount of attention. turning a blind eye when reo flinches a bit at his truthful words

“have anyone told you you're a terrible human being?”

one sip, a second one. and his lilac eyes were watering for a million time. “they used to love this drink.” he whispered.

“i genuinely hope you choke on it.”

rin: it got so bad, he talked to sae about it.. running a few years backwards, if you told the sixteen years old itoshi rin he'd be seeking his own deadbeat of a brother to vent he'd spit out in your face with no second thought.

and if he could, he would've. because rin was rethinking his life choices, taking a step back every second yet taking two ahead then comprehending once again. and now there was no going back, what was between him and the urgent fate was a wooden door.

his hands buried deep in his pockets instead of making an attempt to knock. he found gazing at his pair of shoes much more entertaining.

he didn't have it in his head to think straight, not when you clouded over like an angry storm, all he can do is take it and let your teardrop roll down his face, or maybe they were his own tears, he couldn't savvy it.

after a deep lungful of air, rin thrust his forward, just an inch away, only to stop briskly. sae? really? just how desperate is he? very. he come to cuss himself for counting you as the one and only person he apostrophizes with. if only he’d listen when you would rant about him approving his social skills, he should've listened instead plugging his ears. He wished he listened to a lot of things you said..

in a rush, the door unlocked in a swift. almost making him funk backwards, unraveling the sight of his older brother, standing unimpressed. and before rin could speak a word, sae took the lead.

“you know I could see your shadow casting under my doorstep, right?”

Rin clicks his tongue in annoyance, and when he doesn't reply, the reddish head moves to the side, and rin steers his way in. shutting the door behind him, sae jog away, letting him take off his shoes. not even a proper welcome, he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up.

the apartment was quite tidy, a strong aroma loomed underneath his nose. Despite that, it was awkwardly dull, not even ghosts would bother haunting it. rin takes a seat in a solo couch, fumbling his fingers in a bothersome way, the silence was a deadline, not anything he wasn't used to.

It was just the first time rin had come here, by himself. without an actual family required to stick to the back.

or without you.

unintentionally, Rin's leg keeps thrusting. a bad habit of his when the tension gets thick. every passing second he berates himself even further, damn him for having only one path to seek solace in, for allowing only one soul to soothe over his frail heart, for authorizing only one embrace to delay him.

and damn you for carving open his heart. just to leave him to bleed.

the echoing steps of sae cut his strails of thoughts. settling down his cup of hot tea. rin raised a brow at the uncivil manner. “you didn't ask for one.” his brother shrugs calmly, oh he was driving him nuts with this unchanged attitude.

breathe in, rin.

reverberating voice called, so he obeys. straighten his pouster. “I wanted to talk to you about something. it's important.”

“I can tell. and your sidekick is nowhere to be found, did they finally ditch you?”

his hands clutching up in a makeshift ball, rin says nothing.

“oh, so they did?” sae blows a few times over the overheated cup, taking a sip then uttering something under his breath. “Well, that's unfortunate.” adding another cube of sugar as he retorted.

rin only got something out of this, that his brother didn't give a single fuck. and it drove him to the edge.

“You can at least pretend that you care.”

“never said I didn't.”

“you didn't have to, it's fucking showing.” rin seethed, his clenched hand striking the table balance, making the sugar cubes fall out of place. his anger was collapsing even the sweetest floras.

that doesn't nuge sae the slightest, but makes him frowns his brows a bit, because he was the one who had to sweep that off later.

the tension was solid and bulky, and Rin refused to break eye contact with the equal hues. Daring him to say something, anything. Yet he took it as a challenge, like he always does. The only way he communicates with sae is by beating him, proving himself. He'll die on that hill, even if it killed him itself. even if it has killed you already.

he knew this was a stupid idea, he should've just rotted in bed, he should've kept on living in the repeated circle of misery. He should've just lived up with every rush of breeze rustling his mistakes over and over, where he could've sworn that it was your voice.

breath, rin.

he was fucking trying.

“So what do you want me to do about it? be your wingman and pair you together again?”

“or, you could just say nothing. listening is enough.”

after a moment of silence, sae shoulders ease up. a guster pointed for him to keep going. so rin dose, he rants and rants like he had the time of the world right in his palms. It was mostly about you, how you were something that became his everything, how he should've stopped you like he wanted to, how he let you be driven away like he always does, how he should've apologized like he was supposed to.

blustring about ‘what the if’s’ and what would've happened if he just.. he loved you like you loved him.. if only he tried. he can't blame it on his immense ego, his lack of communication, the digged hole on his soul that you bleeded to fill, you gave all your flesh till there was nothing left but bones.

he could've rebuilt the broken pieces of your heart, but they were too sharp to hold. He bled within every one, he was bleeding to ashes, to nothingness.

you loved till there was nothing left to love about you. you drained down the hill. not even his blood could fulfill you.

his voice would crack, a dust cloud blows over his eyes, yet sae would stare at him ever so flatly. if he even dares to say disappointment. disappointed that his younger brother was just a copy past of him.

someone that kills everything he touches.

When rin has nothing left to say, sae stands up. reaching his pocket for a card that carries a name and a number. as the dark-head flipped the card between his fingers, blood-thirst eyes narrowed at him.

“a fucking therapist? are you fucking kidding me?"

“you clearly need one.”

“I don't, is this some kind of lukewarm joke?”

“stop being corny, I'm trying to help you here. if you aren't willing to let yourself feel the sense of loss, you can suit yourself out.”

and with that, sae turns his back to him. like he always does. climbing the stairs to his bedroom, leaving rin to reconsider where his actions have driven him, how beyond it threw it all.

although, he’ll never let himself feel the sense of loss. never. He'd rather be haunted by you than be alone forever, he'll be a stray till you pick him up again.

lmao wrote this with nagi plushie watching me like a hawk

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #reo x reader #isagi x reader #rin x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #rin itoshi x reader #reo mikage x reader

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chvoswxtch · 1 year

Note

just started the punisher & absolutely in love with how you write frank castle. i’m already a huge simp and NEED a bodyguard!frank x reader fic where the reader gets a lil tipsy & likes to run away from him? ofc she runs into trouble with other guys at the bar and immediately regrets losing frank but he comes in at the right time?

if not i totally understand and will continue to binge all of your fics!!

-thor ✨🥰

thor!!! my sweet sparkly angel baby god of thunder!!! ✨

you're so PRECIOUS. thank you so much, and thank you so much for the request. I can't believe I hadn't thought of bodyguard!frank before like...you're a genius. I left this one kinda open ended bc I wasn't sure exactly what kind of relationship we were going for between frankie & reader, so I kept it subtle BUT as always, if you want more just let me know. 😏 ❤️

warning: contains violence and mentions of blood (frankie is the punisher after all), swearing, mentions of alcohol, & mentions of harassment (if this makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to skip!) word count: 3k

it's my job.

[next chapter] | [series masterlist]

You should’ve listened. He told you to stay close. He told you not to have that sixth drink. He told you to stay where he could see you. But you didn’t listen.

Why hadn’t you fucking listened?

Because he frustrated you. Because he was all stone cold gazes and silence. Because he ignored you like he was paid to do that instead of protecting you. Because his eyes were always over you or around you, but never on you.

Because you had a school girl crush on your body guard and you couldn’t figure out why.

Well, you knew part of that why. He was incredibly handsome in a rugged way. He was big and broad and looked like he could snap you in half with his bare hands if he wanted. You’d seen him crack a smile once, not at you of course, but another one of the guys that was assigned to you, and God was it beautiful. It softened his face in a way that made you stupid, and that was probably why you had made the dumbass decision that you had.

You weren’t a damsel in distress by any means, but you’d certainly play the part if it meant Frank Castle was coming to your rescue.

The plan was simple. Slip away from Frank at the bar, find a random guy to flirt with, wait for Frank to find you, and finally be his center of attention. Simple, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Frank had turned his head for one second, and you were gone, giggling to yourself as you pictured the pissed off look on his face. Were you being a brat? Absolutely. But as pretty as Frank was, he was also a huge dick most of the time. It was only fair to return the favor considering he had been driving you crazy for months now. Tipsy you had completely justified your actions, and you agreed with her.

It didn’t take long to find an unsuspecting player in your little game. He had a godawful smirk on his face that definitely wasn’t as attractive as he thought it was, and clearly screamed ‘no one’s ever told me no in my entire life’. That should’ve been red flag number one. His overconfidence was as nauseating as the sound of his voice, but you reminded yourself you had a game to win. You subtly kept glancing around for Frank, wondering what the hell was taking so long. All of a sudden, Jason…Jake…whatever the hell his name was-decided to invite his entire frat house apparently to crash your little party.

That was when the chaos started.

They all crowded around you in a corner in the back, completely blocking your view from the rest of the bar. You started to feel a little nervous, realizing that if you couldn’t see Frank, he couldn’t see you. That thought, along with the ravenous gaze in each of the men’s eyes, completely sobered you up. You didn’t like their lingering stares. You didn’t like how close they all were. This wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t a game. It was a mistake.

“I-I think I should go find my friend. Excuse me.”

“Whoa, where you going, princess? I thought we were your friends?”

The ringleader didn’t hide the path of his eyes as they traveled down your body, and it made you feel sick. His friends snickered as they moved in closer towards you, not bothering to hide their shameless gazes either.

“What, you don’t like us anymore?”

Think. Think. Think.

Don’t piss them off.

Play along.

Be smart.

You attempted your best polite smile, shaking your head slowly as you tried to find a gap between their bodies.

“Just wanna make sure no one sends a search party and ruins the fun. I’ll be right back.”

You tried not to move too quickly as you went to step between two of them, but a tight grip on your wrist yanked you backwards against an uncomfortable chest.

“Why don’t you just text them later. C’mon, don’t be difficult.”

There was a fear bubbling up in your chest and your throat felt tight. God why hadn’t you just fucking listened to Frank? Where the hell was he? You just wanted to go home. You sent a silent prayer up to whoever was listening that you’d never do anything stupid like this again if you could just go home.

“You’re hurting me.”

You winced, not from the weakness in your own voice, but from the harsh orchestra of laughter at your words. You felt like a lamb trapped in a circle of wolves. The horrid feeling of the man’s hand caressing your face caused your fingers to tremble, whimpering slightly as his hand gripped your jaw tightly when you tried to turn away from his touch.

“What’s the matter, princess? Don’t like it rough?”

“Frank?!”

If he couldn’t see you, maybe he could at least hear you.

“That’s not my name, baby. Don’t worry, we can practice you screaming it later. I promise, it’ll be the only one you remember after I-”

A high pitched yelp rang loudly in your ears and it took a couple of seconds to realize that it came from the man that was grabbing you. Blinking a few times, you stared dumbfounded as you realized Frank had pinned his arm behind his back in a very painful looking position and had slammed his face into the closest wall.

“You put this fuckin’ hand where it don’t belong again, and I’m gonna break it. You got that?”

Frank must have done something to prove his point, because the man cried out as he furiously tried to nod his head that was trapped against the wall.

“Fuck…y-yeah, yeah I got it! Just fucking let go!”

As Frank released him and took a step backwards, the man fervently turned around, ready to strike until he took in the look on Frank’s face. There was pure fear in that man’s eyes, and you could’ve sworn you saw him gulp as he quickly took a step backwards. He looked comically small compared to Frank. It fueled something within you to see him look so small and fragile. Frank turned his head slightly to shoot a warning look to the others, one they quickly responded to by taking a step back and holding their hands up in surrender.

Shooting one last glare to the ring leader, Frank finally turned around to face you. A shiver tumbled down your spine at the fury burning in his eyes. He was pissed.

“You alright?”

The tone of his voice was so harsh and gruff it almost hurt your ears, having the complete opposite effect it normally did. You brought your trembling hand up and held your wrist against your chest, trying to ignore the sting of pain you felt as you cast your eyes downward and nodded.

You jumped slightly when you felt the warm weight of Frank’s palm on your arm, noticing the way his face fell ever so slightly as he recognized the terror in your eyes. He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, nodding his head towards your wrist.

“Lemme see.”

If Frank was pissed before, he was fucking enraged now. Allowing him to hold out your wrist to inspect it, his jaw immediately hardened when he saw the faint outline of fingerprints blooming on your skin in light shades of maroon.

“Fuckin’ piece of shit.”

Before you had a chance to stop him, Frank’s fist was colliding with the man’s jaw, causing you to wince as you heard it crack like thunder across the sky in a violent storm. You could hear one of his ribs shattering like glass as Frank landed a powerful blow to his chest, grunting as he dragged him back up by his collar.

“Thought you liked it rough, huh? You pussyin’ out on me now?”

The man feebly tried to push at Frank’s chest to create some distance. He would’ve had better luck trying to knock down a brick wall with his bare hands. His friends stood stunned in place by Frank’s wrath, paralyzed with horror as their fearless leader sobbed and pleaded for mercy.

“You like putin’ your hands on women, yeah? That make you feel big? Make you feel like a man?”

Frank’s voice boomed in your ears the louder he got. There was a frenzied look in his eyes, and you’d lost count of how many times his fist had collided with various parts of the man’s body.

“Frank, please.”

Frank’s unrelenting fist paused midair at the sound of your voice, head snapping in your direction. He wasn’t going to stop unless you begged him to. You could see it in his eyes.

“I wanna go home. Please, Frank. Please take me home.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw as he glanced between you and the man whose bloodied face was now unrecognizable. Grabbing onto his jaw roughly, the man whimpered as a fresh stream of blood leaked from his mouth. Frank leaned in close, staring directly into the eye that wasn’t swollen shut as he growled lowly.

“You ever come near her again, or I hear anythin' ‘bout you putin’ your hands on another woman, I’ll fuckin’ make you scream. And it’ll be the last goddamn thing you do. You got that?”

Frank didn’t wait for an answer. He swiftly guided you out with his hand on your lower back, ignoring the horrified looks from everyone as they parted for him like the red sea. The slam of the passenger door caused you to jump, buckling yourself in with trembling hands as Frank sped out of the parking lot like a madman.

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t face the rage on his face and the disappointment in his eyes. One glance in his direction had you immediately turning away. His fist was coated in the man’s blood as it gripped onto the steering wheel, crimson almost gleaming under the moonlight as it dripped down his wrist. You pushed it too far. You pushed him too far.

The entire drive home was silent. You desperately wanted to get out and get away from him. How were you ever supposed to look at him again? He was probably going to quit after what you did. How could you have been so reckless? So stupid? You stared at your reflection in the side mirror.

Well, you got what you wanted.

As soon as his truck pulled into the driveway you were unbuckling yourself and dashing out towards the front door. Your fingers trembled as you struggled with the lock, heart thrashing in your ribcage hearing Frank’s heavy boots pounding angrily against the concrete. He silently reached around you to grab the keys, turning the lock and shoving the door open angrily as you rushed through the threshold.

His large hand caught your arm before you could disappear into your bedroom, spinning you around quickly as he stared down at you furiously.

“Why do you gotta always be so goddamn difficult? Why can’t you just do what the fuck I ask, when I ask it?”

“Frank-”

“You are a fuckin’ relentless pain in my ass, you know that? You got any idea what coulda happened to you? What they woulda done? Is that what you want?”

“No, I-”

“Because that woulda been on me. Somethin’ happens to you, it’s on me. It don’t matter that you’re a goddamn spoiled brat that can’t fuckin’ listen to save her fuckin’ life, it’s my ass. You get that? Or are you so goddamn selfish, you can’t see past yourself?”

He was right. You knew he was right. You had been selfish. You could’ve gotten yourself seriously hurt, or worse. You could’ve gotten Frank hurt or worse. And for what? Because he did his job too well? Because he wouldn’t entertain your bullshit? A lump of regret caught in your throat and you could feel guilt brimming along your waterline. You were a selfish, spoiled brat to him. That’s all he saw you as, and would ever see you as, because that was all you had proven to him. He probably hated you, and that thought alone is what finally broke you.

“I’m sorry, Frank. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-I wasn’t thinking. I was being stupid. I…I was being selfish. If you hadn’t been there…I don’t…I can’t…”

You shuddered as you thought about how that sentence would end. You didn’t even wanna think about it. You realized in that moment how complacent you had gotten because of Frank. He was always there. The thought of someone getting past him never even occurred to you. There was never a chance for anyone to get too close to you until you created one.

Frank paused his irritated pacing, his face softening as he heard the remorse that cracked through your voice. Your hands were trembling as you choked words out through your heavy tears, and for the first time that night he thought about how scared you must have been. He glanced at the bruises that marked your wrist and let out a deep exhale through his nose. You were a pain in the ass, but he knew you hadn’t intended for tonight to happen. You could be careless sometimes, but not enough to put yourself in that situation.

Frank took a few cautious steps forward, placing his hands delicately on your shoulders.

“Hey, breathe. Everythin’s alright, yeah? You’re home. You’re alright. Just…breathe for me, sweetheart.”

“I’m so sorry, Frank-”

Frank let out another deep sigh as he pulled you in close, hugging your head against his chest as he gently rubbed your back.

“Hey…hey, I know. I know you didn’t mean for it to happen. Look, it’s over, yeah? Don’t matter anymore. Just focus on breathin’ for me.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt, and I-”

Frank pulled back slightly as he cupped your jaw delicately, searching your eyes with confusion knit between his dark brows. It felt drastically different than when that man had grabbed your face earlier. Frank’s fingers were rough, but they were soft as they touched you. Frank would never hurt you. His full lips were pursed in almost a pout as he searched your eyes, and it was the first time you were able to look at them so closely. They were a breathtaking shade of chocolate brown, and looked so different when he wasn’t angry. His entire face was different when he let that brooding mask slip.

After a beat of silence, the edge of his mouth curved in the tiniest of smirks as his eyes lit up with mischief.

“The hell you worryin’ ‘bout me for? I’m the one protectin’ you, ya’know.”

“I don’t make that easy.”

“No, you don’t.”

There was a somewhat playful tone to the normal edge of his voice. He was trying to make you feel better, but you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

“And I could’ve gotten us both hurt because of it.”

Frank had expected you to banter back with him. You always had some smartass comeback ready to fire, and he secretly enjoyed it. But the dejection in your voice made him worry he’d been too hard on you earlier. A bigger part of him was nervous that he’d scared you in the bar, and that gnawed at the pit of his stomach.

“Have I ever let a single thing happen to you?”

“No, but-”

“Do you think I ever would?”

“No, but Frank-”

“Good. My job is to protect you. I don’t need you worryin’ ‘bout me, sweetheart. I can take a lot more than you give me credit for. What I do need is you to worry ‘bout yourself, and listen. I don’t tell you shit to be a hardass or try to control you. It’s to keep you safe. You got that?”

“Yes, Frank.”

“So, we understand each other now? You gonna start listenin’?”

“I will, I promise.”

“Attagirl.”

Frank granted you a miniscule smile as he wiped a stray tear away from your cheek, and a tiny surge of pride flowed through you at his praise. You wanted more of that. You gently wrapped your hand around his wrist, finding yourself unable to break his mesmerizing gaze.

“I don’t ever want anything like tonight to happen again.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I was really scared, Frank.”

“Did I scare you?”

Frank’s voice was quieter as he voiced his inquisition, and you could hear the vulnerability laced in it. You quickly shook your head, holding onto his wrist a little tighter.

“I wasn’t scared of you, Frank. I never have been. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to find you. That you wouldn’t be able to find me. That I…might never see you again.”

“I’ll always find you, sweetheart. I promise.”

You thought you liked how your name sounded coming from Frank’s mouth, and God you did, but sweetheart…yeah you liked that much better.

“Frank-”

“Go get some sleep. We’ll talk in the mornin’.”

“Are you leaving?”

Frank quirked one of his brows as he looked at you, a smile ghosting over his mouth so fast you had to convince yourself you hadn’t imagined it.

“Kinda defeats the purpose of body guardin’ if I ain’t here to guard your body, yeah? And since someone can’t manage to keep herself outta trouble, can’t really take any chances.”

Something about that sentence had heat violently spreading across your cheeks, and traveled very far downwards. You nodded your head quickly, trying to will your brain to remember how to speak as you cleared your throat.

“Right…um…guest room is-”

“Across from yours, I remember.”

“Um…goodnight, Frank.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

You flashed him a tight lipped smile, trying to gather yourself as you turned around and headed towards your bedroom. What a fucking night. As you opened your bedroom door, you paused for a second and turned around, only to find Frank still in the same spot you had left him, watching you closely. He turned his body to face you expectantly, cocking his head slightly to the side in question.

“Thank you.”

Frank’s hand twitched slightly as his side, giving you a slight nod.

“It’s my job, sweetheart.”

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle request #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher request #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series

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wttcsms · 8 months

Text

time, mystical time (cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine) ; simon "ghost" riley.

pairing simon "ghost" riley x f!reader word count 3.3k synopsis snapshots of the defining moments in ghost's life. content contains slight angst, mild descriptions of alcohol abuse (ghost's father) + domestic abuse (non-explicit desc., but the act itself is mentioned various times), a bit of tiny look into my take on ghost's background, nsfw content, slight size kink, breeding kink, creampie, domestic fluff, pregnant!reader in some scenes, children (dad!ghost) author's notes takes place in this au & honestly is a lot more enjoyable of a read if you read that fic (+ the other connected one shots [go on my masterlist]). fun fact: simon is referred to as simon in the scenes with only you and his family. he's ghost anywhere else.

His mother had always told him that as a baby, he was always rather quiet. Scared her half to death, she would say, ‘cause he’d rarely ever cry. Even the doctor got worried when he first came out.

Looking back at his childhood — perhaps the lack thereof — Simon assumes it’s probably instinctual. With a deadbeat drunk of a father armed with a heavy hand, being quiet probably saved Simon’s life more times than he wants to admit. He’d be knocked upside the head for the littlest of reasons, shouted at for even less.

I’m the man of the house.

His father’s slurred justifications for doling out unfair punishments ring through the dark halls of his childhood home. Simon hears it while he cowers inside his closet. His room is dark because his father doesn’t believe in nightlights, and mum got slapped hard for daring to go against his wishes and trying to sneak Simon one. She thinks he didn’t see it, but Simon sees a lot more than he should. Since then, he’s been sleeping in the dark. It’s not so scary anymore.

There are scarier things that lurk in the light, anyway.

It’s stuffy in the closet, and he knows it’s stupid to hide here because dad will find him any second now. The punishment is bad when he gets to drinking, and it gets worse whenever Simon tries to hide.

A loud thump against his door makes Simon hold his breath. Then, the door bangs open from the weight.

Kicking doors open comes second nature to Lieutenant Riley.

The loud crash of the door popping from the rusty hinges shocks the poor girls previously trapped behind them. All of them stay huddled together, staring fearfully at the loud, big men toting even louder, bigger guns. The hollowed cheeks, hopeless eyes, and array of bruises on their skin makes him sick. It’s a hot summer’s day, and Simon hates that after all this time, his observation from his childhood still stands true:

There are scarier things that lurk in the light, anyway.

A bit hypocritical, he supposes. After all, he walks around in broad daylight, and he’s certainly no saint.

With the help of the rest of his extraction team, Ghost makes quick work of herding all the girls out of this depressing underground prison and out into a free world. He’s careful to be gentle with his touches, nothing more than a gentle guiding hand. Even with his gloves, he can’t be certain he’s not tainting them. Sins don’t wash away as easily as blood does.

He’s the last one to leave, but he doesn’t exit alone.

For a while, he felt a tight grip on his arm. Someone’s been clinging onto him this whole time, and with everything that’s happened, he can’t find it in his heart to shake them off. With no other distractions present, he finally turns to see who’s gotten so attached to him.

This is it.

This is the moment where Simon Riley claims his life begins.

It’s such a juvenile feeling, he thinks. Waiting for his phone to ring, wondering why you haven’t texted or called. It’s so silly. So what he saved your life? It’s not like you owe him anything. It’s his job. He had a duty. Nothing more, nothing less.

Besides, he’s an asshole. Not the type of asshole who thinks he’s entitled to your company since he rescued you, but the type where Soap and the rest of the team aren’t too surprised he doesn’t have anyone to come home to.

He can’t sleep.

It’s been weeks since he gave you that burner phone. Surely you would have called, even sent a simple “hello”, if you really wanted to. He knows there’s not much to do in that facility. He knows that you haven’t been sleeping well. He knows that he should go to sleep; he’s got an early flight to catch in an active warzone, and there’s no way in hell he’s gonna get any semblance of rest as a result.

Instead of sleeping, he’s grabbing his own burner phone off the nightstand and staring at the screen. It’s a simple enough task, really. He can just head straight to his contacts list and click the only one that’s there. Isn’t it traditional for the guy to call first, anyway? Or is he just fooling himself into thinking that you’re waiting for him to make the first move? Do you want him to make the first move?

He’s never experienced this before. This newfound, boyish anxiety. The equal mixture of both hopelessness and hope churning in his stomach every time he sees you; do you think of him as much as he thinks of you? The question is then followed by a decisive no. He hasn’t survived this long because of blind optimism, so there’s no point in indulging in it now.

Will you come back then?

You looked up at him while asking this question, and you looked like an angel unfairly punished to walk alongside man. He wanted to spend the rest of his life constructing a stairway to heaven that you could use to make it back to your rightful home. When you look that beautiful and then proceed to ask him a question, what else was he supposed to say besides,

Whenever you want me to.

Perhaps God truly is as merciful as he is all-seeing, because after a minute of contemplation and staring longingly at your contact, his phone screen lights up with the notification he’s prayed for (the only thing he’s ever prayed for, really).

You’re calling him.

And true to his word, he’s on his way.

He’s never said I love you before, and as a result, he’s too scared to make his first attempt to do so, even though you just told him those three words yourself.

(He might tower over you, but looks can be deceiving. Simon thinks you’re much stronger and braver than him, in all the ways that matter.)

I love you.

He resists the urge to beg you to say it again and again and again, on repeat for the rest of your lives.

He doesn’t say it back immediately, but he does let you take off his mask for the first time.

He doesn’t realize that the wide-eyed, awestruck, soft gleam in your eyes as you take him in, fully, for the first time is the same starry-eyed look he gets whenever he looks at you. He has a feeling you’re well aware of it, but now he finds the courage to confirm it.

“I love you.”

And with a smile that could bring him back to life, all you have to say is, “I know.”

His mask is in your hands, after all.

“You never quite outgrow it, do ya?” Tommy’s got his hands in his pockets, but Simon can still picture the wedding band on his younger brother’s finger. He had been happy when Tommy tied the knot with Beth, if not a bit jealous.

Now, though, Simon’s got his own wedding band. It’s tucked underneath his uniform, hanging from the same chain his dog tags are. It rests against his chest, in a spot closest to his heart, right where it — you — belong.

Dad’s dead. Tommy says mum cried, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, she’s the one who faced his wrath for the longest. She’s been on the receiving end of all his harshness. She’s the one who’s taken the most hits, the hardest hits. Simon nods in agreement but doesn’t tell his brother that he thinks he might know why.

Simon knows his mother is a good woman. A long time ago, his father wasn’t the man he knew growing up. He doesn’t know when the change in his personality happened, and Simon somehow feels like it’s his fault. He was the catalyst, the trigger. While she was pregnant with him, that’s when the violence and the drinking and the anger started. He knows mum isn’t crying to mourn the man he became; she’s just finally safe to grieve about the man she loved and lost. Simon hasn’t been able to face her in a while since he’s come to the conclusion that his being born was the cause of everything horrible that has happened to her.

“No, I suppose not,” Simone says. The house feels smaller than he remembers, but when he walks into his childhood bedroom, he’s transported to darker times. The room is as big as the whole world again. This room, this damn house, is his only world. He’s nine and cowering in fear again. He’s little again. He’s scared again. He wants to run away, but his scrawny little legs won’t let him. Dad won’t let him.

Then he blinks and realizes that the room hasn’t changed all that much.

Within the next week, Simon gets the house demolished and the land sold.

“Ta-da!” You present to him a knitted, baby-blue blanket. The beginning stitchwork is sloppy at best with considerable improvement the further he looks. Between every thread, Simon can practically feel the love that’s stitched in it.

“You like it?” You ask him, looking at him expectantly.

“It’s perfect.”

“Liar!” Your laugh rings through the cabin, and Simon feels like he’s being bathed in sunlight from the warmth of the sound alone. It’s distinctly yours, and he doesn’t want to be the barbarian who just takes and takes, but he wants it all to himself. He wants to catch it from the air and stuff it in his pockets and save it for when he’s in a foreign country and can’t sleep at night.

“Why would I lie? It’s perfect.” You’re perfect.

“I messed up, like, five times trying to get this damn thing started! And it was so hard to get into a good groove since Simon Jr. thinks he’s a little football player. He’s been kicking like crazy!” To prove your point, you get closer to Simon and take one of his large hands, placing it on your growing belly. He’s sitting, surrounded by tools and pieces of a crib that he’s trying to build, and all he can do is look up in admiration at you, the most beautiful woman to walk this earth, an angel too good for this world, the mother of his child, his wife, you. Your hand is on top of his, and you squeeze it gently, and he loves the way the diamond on your wedding ring glitters in the sunlight.

“He’s a strong one, alright.” Simon chuckles, feeling the way his son bumps against your belly.

“Must get it from you, then.”

That’s funny. Simon was just about to say that he’s pretty sure he gets it from you.

When he’s with you, Simon likes to take things slow. He can be rough at times, demanding and conquering you with nothing but brute strength and vulgar compliments. Like a true soldier, you take all of his transgressions in stride.

Tonight is one of the nights where Simon will indulge and finally take things slow. He likes to savor every moment he gets with you because no matter how much time has passed, the pessimist in him doesn’t stop reminding him that time is fickle, and the future is never promised.

But Simon wants to build a future with you. Simon has built a future, but he’s greedy. So, so greedy. He wants more, he wants all of you, he wants everything you’re willing to give him. The way you part your legs for him, how you willingly — lovingly — let him in, even though nature resists.

No matter how many times he’s split you open on his cock, even with the slickness of the previous two orgasms he so happily wrung out from you, there’s still resistance as the width and length of his cock struggle to slide into your cunt.

“It’s okay, love, let me in.” His whispers of reassurance are barely heard over your little whimpers. You’re nodding, trying to be a good girl for him, but the fact of the matter is that Simon Riley is incredibly too big. He is a god among men, and you find yourself squeezing his hand tightly as the first few inches of his cock make its way into your warmth.

“I know, darling.” He mumbles, but his gentle words are spoken roughly. Desire coats every syllable, and his voice is gravelly. He’s holding back, restraining himself from giving in and giving it to you roughly. His hand, so much larger than your own, squeezes back. He’s slowly pushing more of his length inside your needy cunt, and you moan at the feeling of being complete.

You don’t realize the tears that are welling up in the corner of your eyes as he completely enters you, the tip of his cock perfectly pressed against your cervix. Simon’s always been good at mixing pain and pleasure, and tonight is a testament to that.

“More, please.” It comes out like a weak, little whine, and Simon is putty in your hands. Completely malleable to your every whim and desire. His love wants more? He’ll give you everything.

Your lashes are wet with your tears, and he watches as tiny streams of tears fall down your heated cheeks. Your face feels warm to the touch, Simon realizes, as he leans down to kiss away your tears. Poor thing. You must have exerted yourself too much when you were thrashing around earlier as he refused to remove his mouth from your precious pussy until you came in his mouth.

You’re no match for the sheer strength and power of Simon, who’s built like a Greek god and probably just as powerful. You surrender to the overwhelming sensation of his cock stroking in and out of your cunt, and you’re damn near shameless in your greed and desire for more.

“Cum in me. I want you to give me another baby, wanna grow our family with you.” You toss your head back in pleasure, feeling the way his grip on your hand tightens at your words. The two of you move perfectly together; you wrap your legs around his waist as his free hand grips your hip to keep you steady.

“Yeah? My wife wants me to fuck another baby into her?” Simon grunts, doubling his efforts to ensure that his cock hits deep enough to press against all the spots that have your walls tightening around him.

The throbbing of his cock and the allure of expanding your family with Simon, with having a part of him always, even after the two of you have left this earth, is enough to send you over the edge. The ecstasy is all-consuming; all you know is Simon. You feel him to the depth of your core, his heat pressed against your own, your shared bedroom heavy with lust and love.

He loves the way your body goes slack from the intensity of your orgasm. It lets him know that he’s fucked you just the way you deserved to be fucked, filled to the brim with his cock and his cum and all his love. He kisses you hard, savoring the natural sweetness of your lips pressed against his own. He muffles your moans as you feel the endless stream of his cum spilling inside of you, the warmth of it all being almost too much to bear.

“Mmmf,” You pull back from his kiss, just so you can look him in the eyes as you give him his favorite reminder in the world.

“I love you.”

He responds with another deep kiss. It says enough. It says I love you, too, and we’re going for a round two.

He has all the time in the world with you.

He doesn’t feel any pain. That’s odd.

He looks back to the last minute. He heard the distinct sound of a gun firing, and he stumbled a bit as fate had its cruel fun and allowed the bullet to miraculously hit him in the one area his bulletproof gear just so happened to miss. What are the odds?

He looks down. A dark stain is forming on his uniform, and the spot only continues to grow bigger. He moves a hand down to where the stain is at — it’s wet. A fresh wound. Fuck.

The sentiment is shared with Soap, who for once in his life doesn’t have anything smart to say. Ghost wants to say something cheeky, then. Just to keep him calm. It worked with Tommy.

What’s the matter? Don’t worry about me. Should’ve seen the other guy. Almost had him in the last round.

The words, Ghost realizes with growing dread, don’t quite come so easily.

It’s like his brain knows what he wants to do, but nothing is going as planned. Soap is saying something, but he just can’t quite make out the words. Johnny, speak proper fucking English, why don’t ya?

No. That’s not the issue. Ghost frowns, but he doesn’t think Soap notices because of his damn mask. He can’t speak for shit, and he can’t hear, either. Actually, now that he’s really trying to take in his surroundings, everything’s a bit hazy, too. Like someone’s put some stupid film over everything, and stuff’s all slightly blurry. Just out of focus, just out of reach.

“—get you home, alright?” The words sound all jumbled up, and Ghost only really catches the last end of whatever Soap’s blabbing on about. He’s a good kid. Great soldier. Stellar human being. He mentioned something about going home, but that’s just silly. The mission isn’t over yet, get it? They can’t go home ‘til the mission’s complete.

“—don’t close your eyes—”

Home sounds nice. Warm vanilla in the colder seasons, jasmine with equal hints of something fruity and floral in the warmer ones. You fill the house with these scents, even matching your daily perfume to it. Doesn’t matter much to him, though. He hugs you close to his body and breathes in deeply, and he can still smell just you. No perfume will ever compare.

Oh, and a busy kitchen. You’re covered in flour, his son sits on the counter, his daughter in her high chair. The entire kitchen comes to life, and every time he sees all three of you giggling in unison, his favorite sound of all, this kitchen becomes his whole world. This is what he goes to war to protect.

Baby blue walls and a crib. Crayon drawings of a stick figure family. Watching his daughter’s first steps and his son clinging to your legs.

Maybe Soap’s right. Forget the mission. He should just head home.

But first, he’s really fucking tired. He’ll shut his eyes just for a minute.

He blinks a few times, eyes struggling to adjust to the light. Light slaps against his face were the cause for his waking up. A damn shame, honestly. He rarely dreams, but when he does, it’s of you, and he was dreaming about something certainly worth remembering for the next time he’s reunited with you.

He rolls over to confront whoever dared to ruin the one good rest he’s had in a long time, only to come face to face with bright, innocent eyes the same shade as his own.

“G’morning,” his son says, the words still clumsy on the two-year-old’s tongue. When Simon doesn’t answer immediately, he resumes slapping his father’s face.

“I’m up, buddy.”

The little toddler claps his chubby little hands together in pure joy.

“Dada home?”

Like a sight for sore eyes, you appear in the doorway, gently opening the door and pushing it open. You’ve got your daughter in your arms, and you look ready to scold the young boy for disturbing Simon until you realize that he’s already awake. There’s that smile of yours that Simon loves so much, the one he swears could bring him back to life.

“I’m home.”

author's note i intended for these little scenes/glimpses of his life to be the things ghost sees as he's bleeding out on the field. get it? the whole "life flashing before your eyes" thing BAHAHAHA. don't worry, he's alive and very much well, enjoying much needed domesticity with you + your little family. the last scene is him fucking u good and well, and that's the lil dream he was having. muahaha

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #one shot #drabble #fluff #angst #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut

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rinbowaman · 8 months

Note

the older sister SECRETLY !!! So sunghoon has 2 sisters and heeseung is dating the younger sister , but the more he hangs out with sunghoon and sees the older sister , the more they fall in love with each other . And that’s where the cheating starts ! IF THIS DOESN’T MAKE SENSE I CAN TEXT U PRIVATELY . If u do this for me I consider u as my sister 🥹😚💗

“I like her, but I love you…”

Warnings: College boy Heeseung cheating in secret, older fem. lead, smut....rough smut....kind of animalistic, craving, like 'oh-my, oh-my God! this c*ck's pumping crazy' smut. unprotected smut. 9k word count, so get your popcorn out.

Bday gift for @hoyeonheeseung

PS: H/N stands for “her name”. Left her name blank.

Thank you for taking the time and reading my stories and drabbles. To show your support, please consider donating into my ko-fi account ♥️

“Hey man, how are things going with you and h/n?”

“Good, she’s my little troublemaker.” Referring to his girlfriend and the younger sister of his best friend, Sunghoon, Heeseung chuckles as he dwells into the little tidbits concerning his established relationship.

“Yeah she can be a handful. But don't forget, she’s only eighteen, it’s not like she’s our age.” Sunghoon responds in jest, chuckling as he winks over to his friend.

“Yeah, I know. I keep that in mind all the time, which is probably why I let her get away with a lot, and am more patient with her than I should be.”

Nodding his head, Sunghoon pats Heeseung’s shoulder as the two walk over to their parked cars.

“So I was going to ask you, are you planning on coming by tomorrow?” Sunghoon asks. Raising a brow over from across his vehicle, Heeseung answers loosely. “Yeah, h/n says she wanted me to meet some of her friends from school, and they were all going to be over at your place. You guys having a party or something?” Tossing his books into the front passenger seat, Heeseung turns back towards Sunghoon.

“Yeah I figured she had already asked you to come by, her friends are all going to be at the house because, well, our eldest sister moved back to the area after accepting a new job. Guess she wanted to be closer to the family, so my parents are throwing a homecoming party for her.”

“That right?” Twirling his tongue, Heeseung had known Sunghoon since they started college, nearly four years ago. Being on their last year together, Heeseung furrowed his brow, slightly surprised. “I didn’t even know you guys had an older sister.”

“Oh yeah man, I probably forgot to mention her because she’s been living abroad. She left the year I started attending college, right before I met you. She normally calls in and emails us, but hasn’t visited because her job is so demanding. But she says this new job is going to give her a lot more free hour.”

“Huh, I was wondering why H/N mentioned that all of her friends would be over. Makes sense now. But yeah man, I’ll be there. I’ll probably take H/N to the movies or something after the festivities are done with.”

“Cool man. See you tomorrow then.”

“Yup, see ya.”

………………………

You woke up early the next morning to the soft light of the spring sun peeking through the bedroom window. Laid out on the side table was a list of residential neighborhoods and apartments nearby, some circled in black ink. You had moved in with your parents and siblings, only just for a period until you could establish your own place. For now, you took the opportunity to enjoy lost time with them. Getting dressed, you chose a simple yet elegant floral dress, that fitted your form nicely. The hem of the skirt tastefully flows inches above your kneecaps, while the tie straps gently rest on top your shoulders. Walking down the stairs, you meet with your mother inside the kitchen.

“Oh, hi mom.”

“Good morning y/n! Did you want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Pouring you a cup, your mother sits down and enjoys the one-on-one moment with you, while you both sipped on your favorite latte’s. Turning your gaze over to the window, you spot your mother’s garden in full bloom. While you were away, she had planted your favorite flowers to remind herself of you during your absence.

“Oh mom, I really like what you did with your garden.”

“Thank you, baby.”

Chuckling, you giggle out your words as you playfully bite your lip, a small habit you’ve had for as long as you could remember. “You planted my favorite flowers?”

“Of course! I had to have something to remind me of you while you were gone for so long.” The tone of her words reflected her happiness in having you back home. Reaching across the table, you take her hand and reassured her that you wouldn’t be away from here on out.

“I promise, I'm here to stay mama.”

“I know. But you don’t have to rush, you can stay here with me, your dad, your brother and sister.”

Looking down at your cup, you gently sip while you speak. “I’ll stay for a bit, but you don't have to worry Mama. When I move out. I’ll limit myself to a 10-mile radius so I can be close to home. I promise.” Winking, you watch as your mother smiles sincerely at your resolve. You felt guilty for being away for so long, not to mention your career limited you from gaining the opportunity to travel and visit home. Now, things would be different. Sure, you had to take on a position that was slightly less pay than what you were making before, and you had a wonderful team that you left behind, but that all didn’t matter anymore. You had set your priorities firmly to put family first, and everything else following second. With your brother finishing up college, and your sister beginning her first year at the same university in the following months, you knew that your parents would have been too lonely, so you made your decision and submitted your two weeks’ notice to your boss three months ago, and had been enjoying the time missed ever since.

“Oh, how did you sleep last night? I tried to get H/N to give you back your old room for just a few nights, but you know your sister…”

Chuckling, you bit your lip again as you playfully shook your mother’s hand. “It’s okay. The guest room was nice and quiet. Plus, I’ve always liked it up there.” After you had moved out, your sister took over your old room, which happened to be the second largest bedroom in the house, with your parent’s master suite being the biggest. The bedrooms all shared the same hall, but the guest bedroom was nestled away up on the third floor, originally as the attic. However, your parents designed it to be formatted as a guest room for family visits and had kept it as such ever since.

**** photo of bedroom

When finding out that you were moving back home, your mother went through great lengths to fix up the guest space after H/N had initially begged, then later refused, to give back your old room. Yet you didn’t mind, the guest room was laid out with gaudy floral wallpaper but was actually, quite cozy, and nicely tucked away from the remaining bedrooms, which all were located on the first level. The second floor had a nice family room, along with a guest bath, additional office spaces that your father used as his private study, and a small sitting room. The way things were set, you felt like the little princess you always used to dream yourself as, locked away in your tower with all of your favorite books and a great view of your mother’s garden.

“Sis!”

You turn your head over to the sliding door near the dining room and watch as H/N runs over and sits next to you. “Can I borrow that one dress you have? The red sexy one! Pleeeeease!” Bouncing in her seat, your sister eagerly begs as she taps her artistically extreme manicured nails on the table. Adorned in clusters of jewels and painted in neon colors, you took a moment to notice how lengthy the exaggerated pointed acrylics were.

“Yeah, sure.”

“EEEEEEEEEK! YAAAY! Thank you Y/n!” Hugging your neck and placing a quick peck on your cheek, h/n runs up the stairs, causing quite the clamor on her way up. You chuckled and smirked as you heard her run up, scurrying through your closet and dressers for that simple red dress you wore for work. It was a formal piece, one that you wore under a blazer whenever you went into the office, and it was a bit too sophisticated for a homecoming party, but you already knew that once your sister had her mind set on something, there was no changing it.

The visitors started to show up, collecting out in the backyard where all the decorations and food was nicely laid out. Your mother and her friends had displayed a massive spread of assorted dishes on a long picnic table. Sunghoon assisted with placing the decorations up, while H/N mingled with her friends. You were taking one last glance over the residential properties on the rental ad before placing it back down on your side table. You head down towards the kitchen, however, upon arriving on the second floor, you run into H/N and her group of friends as they walk up to catch you in the guest room. “Oh! Sis! Perfect timing!” H/N runs over to your side and links her arm with yours. “Guys, this is my sister y/n.”

“Wow….you’re so pretty.”

“Your hair is so long and shiny!”

“Gosh why is it that older girls are always the prettiest?”

“Its probably because they learn from each other’s makeup and hair styles in college.”

One by one, h/n’s friends all admire you while talking aloud, taking a moment to feel your hair, stare at your dress, and ask about your makeup tips. They displayed a look of shock when you exposed that you were wearing minimal products, keeping it simple with blush, lipstick, and some eyeshadow. You were always one to avoid heavy makeup, opting to keep things real and simplistic.

“Thats it?! That’s all you’re wearing? How are you so pretty with so little makeup?”

“I can’t wait to be older so I can be just as cool and sexy as you. I like that womanly confidence, my own older sister has that same vibe.”

Chuckling, you playfully side eye H/N as she proudly presents you to her posse. “See? I told you! My older sister is the prettiest!”

Skipping as she drags you along, H/N finally lets you go when you all reach the kitchen. “Sis, you coming out?” H/N screeches out. She was always so flamboyant and quite loud, more than likely due to the excitement she had in showing you off. “Come out so we can show you some of our cheers that we’ve been practicing!”

“Oh alright, gimme a second. I’m just going to grab some water and I’ll be right out.”

“Okay! Hurry up!” She shouts out and leaves. You had nearly forgotten that H/N was continuing her cheerleading curriculum, even in college, and planned on entering the cheer competitions. Pouring yourself a glass of water, you quietly gaze through the window and watch as the number of guests grew larger. Minutes past, and more people enter through the gate in the yard. A sudden scream of excitement is heard from afar outside, and you knew it was H/N and her friends. Shaking your head while you smirked, you sipped on your drink as you checked your phone on some work-related matters, before placing it down on the kitchen island and prepared yourself to walk out and greet the guests.

…….

“Oh my God Heeseung!!! You’re here!”

Running towards him, H/N jumps up as Heeseung catches her in his arms. Gripping onto his hair and overbearing him with kisses, Heeseung winces his eyes shut and gives it a moment before finally speaking out. “Okay, okay. I get it, I missed you too.” He chuckles as he lets her down.

“Come meet my friends! They’ve all been dying to meet you and oh my Gosh! Can we go to the mall later? I want to show you off to all my friends that are working at the stores today!” Jumping up and down, completely hyperactive as she holds onto his hand, H/N eagerly waits for Heeseung to answer. He couldn’t lie to himself, as much as he cared for her, her hyperactive personality could overwhelm him sometimes, much like her friends. It was nothing out of the ordinary, however, for him it wasn’t something he was quite used to, given that all of his other girlfriends were his age and in college. This was the first time he decided to dip into someone as young as H/N. At times, he felt he needed to break away whenever she had her moments where that teen spunk was over the top.

“We’ll see.” He answers.

“But whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? Please please please!” pulling on his arm, H/n expresses her pleas in a shrill and loud voice as she displays a puppy-eyed countenance, pouting her lip to exaggerate her desperation.

“Let’s just see how the day goes, h/n. Besides, after the day is done, I was planning on taking you to the movies.”

“Oh! The movies!!!” She jumps up with excitement while her mother gently shushes from the side. “H/n, shhh, quiet.” your mother whispers over secretly to H/N. “You’re making a scene.”

Huffing out, H/N shrugs off her mother’s warning before resuming her gaze back to Heeseung. “Can my friends come?” She asks excitingly.

“You don’t want to go together? Just the two of us?” He calmly winks over. “Oh my God!! Heeseung!!” She shouts out and giggles, stirring a commotion among the guests, which had caused Heeseung to immediately grow wide eyed and shoot a hand over her mouth, all out of sudden instinctive reaction.

Heeseung eventually met up with Sunghoon, and the two standoff at a distance enjoying a beer while H/N and her friends all swoon over the newest kpop group stepping into the scene of popularity. “Oh my God he’s hot as fuck!” H/n can be heard admiring aloud, once again earning a quick tap on her arm from your mom, gesturing her to be more polite and quiet. Never minding that Heeseung could hear, in h/n’s mind, it was okay for her to openly swoon so long as it wasn’t with someone that was realistically achievable, plus, she was a young girl with a lot of emotions and hormones that caused her to be overly expressive, as well as experiencing a change of heart nearly every day. One moment she was into one particular thing, the next she was into something entirely different. Zoning off as he watches the girls indulge into their typical gossip, Heeseung takes another sip out of his beverage before engaging in conversation with Sunghoon.

“So, how is your other sister holding up being back home?”

“She’s loving it. Which….where is she? She should be out here since this is her party.” Sunghoon looks around, yet the lack of your sighting caused him to reach out to your guy's mom for confirmation. “Mom, where is y/n?”

“Oh well she should be– oh! There she is.” Catching the sight of you walking out through the back sliding door, your mother’s sentence is cut short with the pleasant note of your appearance. “Y/N, over here!” she calmly shouts out your way, waving for you to come to her direction.

Walking calmly, you nod and say hello to everyone you walk past, flaring a sweet and soft smile as you greet them before reaching your mother.

“Oh hey, Y/N! Let me introduce you real quick before mom steals you away, this is my good friend, Heeseung. He and I had been friends since our first year together. He’s also h/n’s boyfriend.”

Surprised, you pleasantly smiled towards the young man and extended your hand to shake and greet him. You heard all about H/N’s boyfriend, especially since the latter couldn’t contain her excitement and talked of nothing else since the moment they started dating, sending you at least a handful of emails a day talking about him. It was just surprising since she never revealed him to be an older college male, nor did she mention that he was good friends with Sunghoon.

“Nice to meet you, I’ve heard alot about you from h/n. She’s really taken with you.” flashing a charming smile, you delicately shift the pieces of your hair framing your face and tuck it behind your ear as the gentle breeze blows through it. Unlike H/N, you opted to leave your hair un-styled, letting it fall freely in its natural state, which enhanced your features and placed you above all the girls Heeseung has ever laid eyes on, to include the girls at his college, and H/N.

“Yeah…nice to meet you.” Stunned by your natural and yet sophisticated sense of manners, your appeal had struck Heeseung out of his right-minded state and he found himself at a loss for words. Leaving his response short and simple, you nod and make your way over to your mother. Sunghoon went on about one thing or another, yet Heeseung paid no mind, he tried to keep it from being obvious, but it was hard. Fortunately no one really noticed. Keeping his face towards his best friend, his eyes kept shifting over your way, glancing periodically as he did his best to get an eye full of your image before reengaging with Sunghoon.

………………..

“So yeah, we were doing this in class the other day when….”

“Mmhmm…..”

“And then the dude literally started to get into this argument with my professor….”

“Oh yeah? …..”

“Right in front of the entire class.”

“Crazy man.”

Noting Heeseung’s spurt responses, Sunghoon pauses in his storytelling. “Heeseung, you good man?”

“Hm?...Oh yeah, no I'm good. You were saying? The guy argued with your professor and what now?”

“Oh. For a second I didn’t think you were listening.” Chuckling as he sips on his beer, Sunghoon continues, not catching on to Heeseung’s habitual habit of roaming his gaze over where you stood. Admiring the calm, mature, and graceful woman that you are, he was becoming smitten with you.

It was strange, he thought that he’d seen every type of woman there was to see. The college girls at his university, or H/n and her friends, all of whom shared similarities, but carried minor differences in their character. Yet despite all that, they were nothing compared to the level of true feminine beauty that you held. All in all, when it came to the girls his age, they were all somewhat stuck up and believed that they had their lives completely figured out, but lacked the will to prioritize their days appropriately and spent more nights partying and sleeping around campus. Then there were girls like h/n, younger, filled with life but had no clue as to how to deal with it. Often living rather childishly and carrying no balance when it came to expressing themselves or developing their feminine nature. They didn’t have life figured out and it showed, and most times, they flared off exactly what they were, a bunch of teenage girls, nothing more.

Then there was you, a young woman in her prime that had already surpassed the stages of her teen years, and survived her college days, albeit you handled it gracefully since Sunghoon had already mentioned that you spent your entire time in college taking online courses, so you could stay home and help out your family. You ignored the typical college life of rotting away in a classroom, dealing with the pressures of your peers, and the late-night partying. Instead, you worked your way through during the day, diligently on your home computer, and then carried on your free time to assist with family matters. If that wasn’t already virtuous enough, you graduated with an excellent standing in your class and obtained a respectable career. You were nothing like the women and girls he’s been exposed to. The way you carried yourself confidently, gracefully, so smooth, elegant, and your pretty appeal had a sense of smoldering essence, which he found devastatingly sexy. What type of woman were you and where had you been all this time?

Throughout the entire event, Heeseung remained out of character and rather on the quiet side, which he claimed was all due to tiredness from late night studying, or so he lied when telling Sunghoon and h/n. By the end of the event, he lies once more and tells H/N that he had too much to drink to drive out to the movies or the mall, and opted to stay back with Sunghoon until the alcohol wears off before safely driving back home. H/N didn’t seem to be too upset about the ordeal, considering one of her friends had a license and a car of her own. Bidding Heeseung goodbye with a quick peck on the lips, h/n departs with her posse while Heeseung and Sunghoon assist with the cleanup.

“I’ll take this inside for you.” Taking the load of stacked plates, Heeseung effortlessly carries them away and heads towards the kitchen. “Oh thank you Heeseung.” Your mom gently responds back with.

Sunghoon helps out your dad with taking down the festive decorations and lighting, white your mother picks up the remaining trash. Placing the dishes in the sink, Heeseung turns on the faucet to lukewarm and begins filling it with warm soapy water. You walk in, inadvertently sneaking up behind, which was the most pleasant surprise for him, unbeknownst to you.

“Oh hey, you don’t have to do that, I can take care of those.” You gently speak out as you walk up to the sink. He turns his head and sees you enter the kitchen, gasping out of bewilderment. God, you were a sight for sore eyes. Where did you come from? Surely not the same way h/n and Sunghoon came into this world, you were far too ethereal in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s fine. I don't mind helping out, I do it often actually.” Knowing his way around the kitchen, he takes a sponge and starts to wash each dish. You stood next to him and grabbed a spare sponge and helped out. He was awfully tall, and despite being quiet, he seemed very nice, you could see why your family liked him. H/n had often talked about Heeseung spending a great deal of time over at your parents house, spending days after classes hanging out with her and Sunghoon,. With as much time he spent over, he was practically part of the family, it's no wonder he knew where everything in the kitchen was.

“Are you excited to be in your last year of college?” You asked calmly, making conversation as you scrubbed, and he rinsed. Displaying a wide and overly happy grin, he chuckles bashfully as he bites his lower lip. “Yeah, I am. I bet you were pretty happy when you finished.”

“Yeah, I was.” you nodded with a smile and a small giggle. “But I can’t lie, I do miss the days where all I had to focus on was being a diligent daughter and student. Being on your own and facing the world head on can be scary sometimes.” you softly state as you glanced over to him with a tender smile.

“Oh God don’t do that….don’t look at me with those beautiful shiny eyes…and that gorgeous smile of yours…..you’re making me melt…..and you don’t even know it.”

Mentally noting the greatness of your appeal, Heeseung gently shrugged off the image of your face in order to avoid staring.

Spending the next thirty minutes washing the plates had to be the greatest highlight of his life. His heart felt as if it was going to explode, you were a bewilderment to him and he couldn’t get enough of the way you smiled, sound, and laughed. Your large dark eyes, that shiny black hair, and that damn olive complexion. God had spent extra time on you, perfecting his craft as he created the greatest gift to earth, you.

Over the timespan of weeks, Heeseung spent a great deal over at your parents’ home, which didn’t seem at all odd considering he was already coming over well before you had moved back home. Using Sunghoon and even H/n as an excuse for his visit, he relished the moments you came down to grace everyone with your presence. It was actually quite impressive how no one sensed or caught on in seeing how enamored he was with you. All those moments when he and h/n were watching Nextflix in the living room, snuggling in the corner end of the sectional couch with Sunghoon on the opposite end. You’d walk past through the hallway and enter the wide, open floor concept and head towards the kitchen when Sunghoon would gently invite you to join them.

…….

“Sis, what’re you doing? Have you watched this show? Come sit and watch it with us, it’s getting good.”

…….

Whenever you accepted the invite, and took a seat on the large couch, Heeseung took advantage of the lack of lighting, with only the TV being the source, and used it to hide the fact that he would stare and admire you during the entire show. With you facing the TV and paying attention to the plot, as did everyone else, no one ever could suspect that Heeseung was falling for you, hard. That obsessive and uncontrollable stare was something that only he knew about, and it made him yearn for you more as each day passed.

……………………

“Hey Heeseung, the company y/n works for is hosting a weeklong internship program. I know we don't have any plans to work for that corporation, but figured, why not take a week-long break away from campus and classes. You in?”

“Her company is hosting an internship for a week?”

“Yeah man. I asked her about it and even asked if she can pull some ropes and become our aid, show us around, pretty much just hang out. We can take that time to chill out.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’m in.”

He was in, alright, but for entirely different reasons. He could care less about taking a rest period away from campus and classes, he would spend his days in a grueling classroom for hours, wasting away, if it meant that he’d be with you.

It didn’t take much to get Heeseung and Sunghoon accepted, you pretty much had established a decent reputation within your company, so taking on the tasks of showing the two internees around, out and about, was something that was accepted without any hesitation. The first day, the two men showed up wearing proper attire of business-casual suits; you walked past the security after exiting the elevator, flaring your VIP pass. Greeting the two, Heeseung caught himself widening his eyes for the thousandth time when he saw you. You carried out your typical habit of wearing bare, minimum makeup, but this time your hair was nicely styled, and you wore an elegant haltered, collared button up midi-dress, paired with black stilettos. You not only looked professional, but sleek and powerful, much different from your carefree style you flaunted when lounging at home.

“My God…this woman is a queen…she’s classy, sexy, pretty, and smart….she’s just….she’s everything.” he thought.

“Hey, were you guys waiting for long?”

“Nah, we just got here. Pretty nice place you work at, sis.” Sunghoon comments as he winks in your direction, remarking the incredible building and strict security.

Giggling at your brother’s sense of humor, you playfully narrow your eyes at him. “Thanks.” chuckling, you tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, something that you constantly did since you always opted to keep your hair down, even when styled. The way you would delicately finger the strands behind the helix of your ear, revealing your pretty earrings, had Heeseung swore up and down that his heart was going to stop beating.

“Should I take you guys up and show you around?” you ask, to which both men nod in agreement. They had looked so suave and handsome, and you couldn’t help but admire, whenever he wasn’t looking, that Heeseung had a very dashing smile and looked very nice in a suit. You had to admit, there was something about the way he would chuckle or smile at you; you figured he had that same effect on everyone else, yet little did you know, his countenance was far more special whenever he was looking your way. You, the woman who was stirring a rumble of chaos in his heart, all out of love and infatuation. How was he ever going to get over you? How was he going to move on if he stayed with H/N? Knowing that you’re her sister. Or…worse….how was he going to live? If things didn't work out between him and H/N…knowing that he may never see you again. As shameful it was for him to admit, but never hating the fact, he was merely keeping his relationship with H/N alive for the sole purpose to keep in constant contact with you, and even…his friendship with Sunghoon. His relation to his best friend was still dear to him, but he found it hard to find any other reason to come by your parents home, other than to see you.

During the internship, you spent a great deal of time with Sunghoon and Heeseung, even after the event had ended, your bond with both Sunghoon and Heeseung continued to grow. Since H/N was in her own little world and spent much of her time with friends and hanging out after cheerleading practice, Heeseung found himself available to build a steadfast relationship with you.

Another week later, your bond started to become much closer…with Heeseung. With Sunghoon attending his classes, some of which he did share with Heeseung, others were separate, your younger brother had aspirations for a career that differed from his best friend, not to mention the presence of a young lady he had been frequenting with. Heeseung knew about her, and encouraged his friend to take the chance after the young woman had expressed interest in his dear friend. Sunghoon agrees and ever since, you had been seeing less of him around the house. But Heeseung remained, always dropping off H/N and spending some time with her at the house, normally watching movies or tv shows. However, when H/N became more engrossed with her friends and attending house parties thrown by people she knew, her presence became lacking. Heeseung never had any interest to attend events that were filled with younger teens, so of course, he would spend more time hanging out with you. In no time, Heeseung and you had started to become close, and even had each other’s phone numbers.

You had sold your car before the move, and had the means to get a new one, yet when Heeseung frequently offered to give you rides and encouraged you to contact him whenever you needed transportation, it became a railroad that connected you two together. You had long forgotten about buying your own vehicle, it became routine for Heeseung to meet up with you, that he did it without you even texting him. He knew your schedule and would show up promptly to take you to work, pick you up, or stop at the store along the way home. During the weekends, whenever you felt like getting away, you would call him and invite him to a day of leisure, which he happily and always accepted. He was enjoying the amount of time he got to spend with you, it became the highlight of his time. Since meeting and forming a bond with you, there hadn't been a single bad day, even when classes were overbearingly long and going past schedule, his heart and mind was only filled with the image of your face and the sound of your voice. He couldn't wait to see you every day after his classes ended.

On a gloomy Saturday morning, you had the entire house to yourself. With your parents gone on a trip until Monday, H/N out on cheerleading camp, and Sunghoon taking his new lady friend out for the entire day on a date, you felt a bit lonely and bored. Taking your phone, you text Heeseung to see if he was up to go out to your favorite cafe. He was delighted and expressed he would be right over.

Pulling up to the driveway, Heeseung steps out and heads for the front door. Having been treated as an extending member of the family, he unlocks the door with the house key that once belonged to H/N, but her terrible habit in losing the previous spare copies had allotted your parents to encourage for her to give it to Heeseung to hold on to. Since he had always picked her and her friends up after cheer practice, and dropped them off at home, it had made sense for him to keep hold of it, especially now with H/N away at camp. Entering the house, he calls out gently to make you aware that he arrived.

“Y/N, I’m here.”

Hearing his voice from downstairs, you make your way over to greet him. “Hey, sorry for the wait, just going to grab my phone and wallet and we can go.”

He didn’t hear a single word you said. Only the sound of your voice and the image of your perfect visual was all he could process. You chose a flirty and tasteful summer dress, which had fit you so beautifully. It was without patterns, just a solid teal color that complimented your features greatly. Your hair swayed with every move you made, and he lost his complete train of thought as you shut of the lights. With the entire first floor darkened, the dim glare from upstairs peered in through the staircase. “Oh shoot, I must have left the light on in the guest room. I’ll be right back.”

“Kay…”

Walking back up the stairs, you enter the guest bedroom that featured all of your belongings nicely staged amidst the furnishings your parents had prepared. Walking over to the lamp, you glanced over to the window next to you and noticed how magnificent the moon had looked. It was bright and full, glowing in a range of orange and golden hues. Staring off into its glorified image, you thought of the last time you had seen the moon this beautiful. It was back when you were H/N’s age, and you were about to graduate high school, immediately preparing for college entry. Lost in a sense of nostalgia, you drifted so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear his footsteps going up the stairs, entering the attic, and walking up from behind. You didn’t hear his shallow breath as he breached closer, and like you, he continued to take in a sight of something dazzling, one that wasn’t pearly perched in the middle of the night sky, but was equally, if not, more beautiful.

Coming up from behind you, he calls to you. “You okay?”

“Hm? Oh…sorry. Yeah, I’m fine, I was just looking at the moon and it got me thinking for a second.”

“Yeah?...” Softly dashing a side smile, he looks out the window and peers at the moon for a moment, then looks back over to you. “What are you thinking about?”

“I just…I don’t know, I was just thinking about when I last saw the moon like this. I was h/n’s age.”

Biting down on his lip, his eyes shift down to your hips before as he takes one step closer. Looking back up at you, his gaze was more stern, hungry even, and intense. “Yeah?....Were you just as amazing back then as you are now?”

Shifting backward, your breathing becomes deep and shaky as you take in his rather fierce stare. He looked so ruthless, yet his tone was soft and gentle. “He-Heeseung….?” You spoke out nervously.

“Answer me…” he softly tells you, as he takes another step forward, and watches as you take one back. His aura and stance was intimidating, much different than his usual persona. He faintly tilts his head to the side and widens his eyes as he stares directly into you. “Tell me….y/n…..were you always as bright as the moon? And as warm as the sun? Were you always as gentle as the fluttered wings of a butterfly, and as swift as the summer breeze?”

He continues to take his steps forward, speaking in a near whisper. You kept the distance in between your bodies while taking your steps back, until you felt your shoulders meet with the wall. Lowering your hands and reaching behind, your palms contact the cool surface, and your fingers tap along the small threaded grooves of the wallpaper, desperately trying to find something…anything to get a grip or to get away from the tension…which was starting to make you cave in. “Heeseung….He-Heeseung….don’t….we….we can’t…”

“What?....”

“Just….please….” sensing the intense desire he yearned for you, his eyes become glazed with the lust of passion and hunger. “Can’t what, y/n?” he softly speaks out, now closing the distance and meeting you chest to chest. “Heeseung…please…” you whimpered out softly. His gaze was doing something to you, it was almost as if he was calling for you, and your body was responding against your wishes. There was something about the way he was whispering your name, thirsting for you with his hungry eyes, and pressing up on your body, trapping you against the wall. There was something about the way his whispered words were antagonizing you to bid a suitable answer, one that you could not think of, yet he kept asking you…

“Can’t what?....” Raising his hands, he places both palms on the wall to each side of your head. Leaning into your ear, he whispers your name. “Y/n….”

You turned your face away, winced your eyes shut and avoid any sort of both, physical and eye contact. His hard chest presses against your breasts, and his groin meets with your pelvis. “Heeseung…..sssstop…..this is wrong….”

“If it’s wrong then push me away….come on baby….push….me….like how you’ve been pushing me.”

Turning your face straight forward, you looked at him confused. He nearly glares at you as he speaks in a firm tone. “Yes….that’s right, I said ‘push me’. You’ve had no problems doing it all this time. Pushing me over the edge…pushing me out of reality….pushing me into a state of madness and hunger……pushing me to love you harder….”

Widening your eyes at what seemed to be his confession of love to you, you shift around and placed your hands on his chest, gently pushing him outward, yet you weren’t pushing hard enough. You were shocked. Was Heeseung really in love with you? But more importantly…were you just now realizing that you might be feeling the same about him? You shook your head, trying to come back to a rational sense and reminded yourself of h/n and her relationship with Heeseung. Keeping your hands on him, you push just slightly harder, yet he leans forward, causing your arms and hands to retract back.

“Push harder….” He whispers against your cheek.

“Heesung we can’t…..we can’t do this…”

“Then push harder…” grabbing onto your hand as it lays plastered on his chest, he strokes the back of your palm as he continues to whisper onto your skin. “Come on baby….push harder.”

The way his pursed lips grazed against your skin, and the way his voice sounded when he called you ‘baby’, it may have been weakness or desperation, maybe it was a little bit of both, either way, you stopped caring. You came to realize the truth behind the close bond you built with this man, and how you came to be so fond of him. How his smile always caused your heartbeat to escalate, and how his voice sounded whenever he said your name, causing your stomach to flip upside down. Once more, he whispers deeply, this time, it was against your lips, all the while he stared into your hazy eyes.

“Push it…..keep pushing it y/n……”

Whimpering, you falter. “I…..I…….”

“Yeah?...” his voices begin to peak.

“I……Heeseung…..”

Smothering his lips against yours, you melt in his sudden embrace. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, further going numb when you felt his arms grip around your waist and lifts you to deepen that hold he had on you. Softly moaning into your mouth, he deepens the kiss and feeds his tongue as deep as he possibly could. Running out of air, you both wait til the very last second upon reaching the pinnacle of lightheadedness, before faintly breaking the kiss. With his nose pressed against yours, he tightens his wrap and lifts you higher, causing you to close any remaining distance as you wrap your legs around his waist. Walking over to the bed, he gently lays you down on the plush bedding. Your arms fling up and over your head, with your hair gracefully spread all around. Reaching up, his hands smooth their way above your head and grab onto your hands, slowly intertwining your fingers together. From there, his kisses trail down to your chin, and to your throat. He smothers you with one kiss after another, before coming back up, just below the lobe of your ear. With your face peeled to the side, and your chest heaving upwards from the denseness of his weight on top, you arch your back and dip your hips low, craving for more of his touch. Whispering into your ear, he unleashes the depth of his braved confession.

“You have no idea….just how much I’ve been wanting you. How many days and nights went by where I thought about you…just you. There’s nothing in my life that I ever wanted more than what I have right before me….pretty girl you should be mine….only mine….and I should be yours.”

Fluttering your eyelids up, growing weak from your shaky breathing and the throbbing tingle that taps your core, there was no way you wanted him to stop, but the thought of h/n came to mind and you gave it your last shot to be mentally strong….despite your heart wanting him all for yourself.

“Hee—Heeseung…..but….what about….m-my sister…?”

Keeping his lips latched onto your neck, he whispers in response. “I like her….” propping himself up, he hooks on the hem of his t-shirt, slowly lifting it up and over his head, revealing his hardened muscles. Flinging it off to the side, he stares down at you with almost a cynical stare, one that was psychotic, but filled with love. “But I love you….”

Gasping at the sight before you, you moan and whimper as you reach up and reaffirm the hold around his neck, bringing him closer to you. Never have you felt such intense love from someone. You have dabbled into the dating life and had a couple of boyfriends since college, but nothing too serious. This….this was something far more crazy….intense….insane even…..but it was a love that you knew that was too good to deny.

Draping your hands down onto his biceps, you arch your back sharply, pressing your breasts against his chest upon feeling his hands traveling low. Swooping under your thighs, he lifts and guides them to wrap around his waist as he rolls the hem of your dress up and coils it around your waist. Hooking his fingers on your panties, he starts ripping them apart. So eager to have you, he couldn’t quite understand anything other than satisfying the hunger he had been feeling since meeting you. He became a beast, a ravishing monster that needed to be tamed, and the only one that could do it, was you. You gasped upon feeling the tugging of him ripping the fabric of your underwear apart, yet were quieted down when he faintly breaks the kiss and places a single finger atop of your lips. “Its okay…..baby, I’m not going to hurt you….I’m just going to feed on you….” Resuming the kiss, he twirls his tongue inside, ever so lovingly. You feel his hands tug on the straps of your dress and pulls them loosely over your shoulders and exposes your breasts to the warmth of his chest as he cradles you in a sweet embrace. Your thighs begin to shake as you rub your fingers up and down his biceps, and moan into his mouth.

Locking your lips in, he delivers a single, sharp buck from his hip, hitting you semi-hard in between your legs. Yelping out of intense pleasure, you release a trailing moan into his mouth as he prevents you from breaking the kiss entirely. Sensing your nerves calming, he delivers another hit from his hip, this time grinding the clothed bulge into your core. You gasp for air upon feeling the mixture of pleasure and friction, causing you to become delirious and lost in the heat of passion. Smirking into your mouth, knowing full well that he was getting you weaker by the second, he delivers a series of repeated dry thrusts that gets you yelling out a trail of gasping moans.

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!”

“Yeah?…yeah? Come on baby….” Clenching his jaw, his thrusts become harder. “Show me how pretty you look, as MY girl...my pretty woman..”

You nearly lose your voice as you continue to moan slurred words and incomplete sentences, all starting off with his name. Propelling his weight off, he unbuckles his belt, and removes his jeans. His nude body now fully connects as you remain mostly bare, with only your flirty dress rolled around your waist, leaving you exposed beneath the tatters and loose ends of the fabric. Kneeling between your legs, he remains propped up high and mighty, leaving you merciless beneath his glaring smirk. Taking you by the waist, he drags you closer, and grinds into you as he takes his shaft and strokes it in between your plush folds. Watching as the skin surrounding your slit caresses his shaft, he triggers your body to secrete the hint of slick moisture, gently glazing his member. Chuckling while admitting a dashing smirk, he looks into your eyes directly, giving a harsh and relentless stare. He didn’t look as soft and gentle as he had all this time since you’ve known him. His eyes were much sharper, defined, and narrowed, and he had a dashing yet devious smirk that was much different than the traditionally handsome one he flares off. It was as if he was taken over by something, a hunger that manifested out of the great desire and love he had developed for you, almost immediately after seeing you for the first time. Was it love at first sight? Or were you just everything he had always dreamed of, yet thought too good to be true to exist? Either way, the moment was here, where he finally had you in his arms. Even he, himself, doesn’t know what exactly was coming over him, but that remained irrelevant as he gazed on the magnificent view beneath him. The suppleness of your skin on your breasts, the smoothness of your legs, and the loveliness of your delicate slit, which he could not wait to plunge in.

Licking his lip, his lids grow heavy and for a moment, you somewhat came back to your senses, but it was too late. With his hand firmly gripping your waist, he takes the base of his shaft and slowly begins to enter. You grab onto his hand immediately upon feeling the bulge pushing past your enclosed cavity. Your body hitches up and forward, reacting to the sting of his rather large and lengthy muscle, only for him to drag you back towards him.

“Ah! Wait…..I….” your breaths transition into raging pants from the immense pressure. It had been too long, and you had forgotten that unique and painful sensation of your walls breaching, but with Heeseung, it was ten times more blistering given his thick girth and exaggerated length.

“Shh….its okay baby….I’m right here. I’m going to make you feel good…”

Feeling each inch sliding in, your thighs start to shake, and your pelvis grows numb. The beat of pain starts to disappear and after a few seconds, all you feel is the pressure of your walls separating. Deep inside lays your soft and tender spot, and after looking at seeing how largely endowed he was, he reaches it, as you expected. Your chest deeply heaves and your back arches even more, expanding the volume of your moans to beat off the walls. Your body rolls and curls, causing your hips to surf up and down, gently tapping against his groin and letting him know that you were wanting more. So more much. Your hands move up but could only reach his naval region as he remained on his kneeling position, while you laid restlessly taking in the plunge. Your fingers delicately drag down and tap against his skin, shakily. He lets out another deep chuckle.

“Heh heh…you ready for me?” Trailing his hand across your chest, he firmly takes hold on the side of your neck. Answering him, you nod eagerly, but nervously. Smiling while breathing out unsteady exhales, amidst feeling the pressures of your tight walls hugging his cock, he releases a shaky chuckle. “My woman…”

Thrusting in the remaining bit of his shaft, he pelts himself all the way in. Your eyes jolt wide with a look of pain and slight fear as you gasp out a yelping moan.

“Oh fuck….keep looking at me like that….you’re so……fuck….” He gasps out as he picks up the pace and thrusts harder and deeper. Faster and faster, he expands the horizon of his sight as he views your facial expression, the movement of your breasts bouncing at high velocity, and how his cock was violating your womanhood. Just as much he was enjoying it, so were you. Seeing how monstrous he was in fucking you, had only thrilled you. The level of intimidation of his manhood and abrasiveness, all accompanying his will to please you, and himself, became the best feeling in the world that you could ever experience. Shifting your grip, you grab onto the blankets to each side of your face and moaned out every inch of ecstasy that he gave. Beating it into you, his cock throbs and pulsates, causing him to fuck you even faster and deeper. This man, your younger sister’s boyfriend, was giving it to you so good, you didn’t want it to end. At that moment, you didn’t care about the outcome of all this, it felt too good to give it up, the more he plunged in, the more you screamed out his name. He went on, and on, and on.

“Ugh! He-Heeseung!”

“Fuck…..” With his hand still maintaining a side grip on your neck, his thumb swipes up and down the center of your throat as he continues his merciless thrusts. “Oh fuck…fuck fuck fuck…..” he gasped out in whispering groans. “You’re so fucking perfect….I could fuck you forever……”

Going in even faster and harder, your body becomes a blur of your tone and complexion as it succumbs to his aggressive thrusting, causing you to bounce relentlessly up and down against the bedspread. Your head pins down on the pillow as he keeps you steady with his hold, using it as leverage to bring you in each time he thrusts back inside.

“Oh my God…!!” You gasp out in a smoldering tone, causing him to twitch inside as he heard the pleasures within your voice. The moment you felt the knot snap, you had the entire penetrating area soaked as you continuously gush out the pleasures of your orgasm. Watching as his cock glistens in between his thrusts, he growls out your name. His hand twitches its grip, and you feel his fingers faintly digging into your skin. Shifting his hold, his hand moves upwards, caressing your cheek, while his thumb swipes over your lips as you catch your breath. Releasing his essence, he remains buried inside and pumps every ounce of his hard labor inside of you. Sliding out, he exits out of your cavity, leading out a trail of his cum to not only seep and pool inside your walls, but to also decorate the exterior of your sex as he spills his seeds on your clit.

Leaning into a crawling stance above your tired and weakened form, he trails the tip of his nose along your throat and up to your chin. Embracing you in a passionate kiss, he rests his body next to you and pulls you in to a tight hug, leaving small kisses along your helix while he simultaneously tucks your hair behind it. Caressing your face with his fingers, he continues to show every ounce of his love, even after displaying his vigored performance in filling you with it. After catching your breaths, you broke the ice, even though you were enjoying the soft silence.

“….What happens now?....”

Heeseung remained aloof. He knew what he wanted, and nothing, even your eighteen-year-old sister, wasn’t going to keep him from keeping you. Hugging you tightly, whispers as he buries his face into your hair.

“What’s going to happen….is you continue to be mine, and leave everything else to me. I’ll deal with H/N. Just stay here and be mine…and only mine.”

You turn your face half way to flare your side profile at him. “Promise you’re going to be nice and go easy on her?”

“Why wouldn’t I be nice? I’ll be as nice as I can about it, and to her. But I’m always going to be nicer to you.” Leaning into your ear once more, he whispers. “Because I may like your sister….but I love you.”

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