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sweetestdesire · 13 days

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STUBBORN PRIDE

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Jack Hughes is too stubborn to let Fem!Reader peacefully sleep on the couch.

Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with. He was stubborn and never seemed to take things seriously and he never really listened to a word anyone said. Everything always went in one ear and out the other. Like when Y/N told him she’d be on the couch for the night so she could have space, for example. It seemed space was not a word in Jack’s dictionary, because he strolled into the living room with his hands in his pockets and his lips whistling a soft tune.

Y/N glared at him from her spot on the couch, watching as he stopped a few feet before her. There was a smooth grin on his face, almost like he had plastered it on for appearance’s sake, like it masked the true nature of his feelings as he hid them with that usual unbothered smile of his.

“Is there room for one more?”

“No.” Y/N said bluntly, promptly turning away to face her back to him. She didn’t have to look back to know his face was curled into that pout of his, the dangerous one that did too good of a job of convincing her to give him his way.

“Okay, fine.” Jack huffed, and then she heard the soft thud of his body settling on the floor, making her itch to turn and peek over the edge of the couch.

Y/N succeeded at ignoring for him for approximately thirty seconds before the curiosity got the better of her and she swallowed her pride and took a quick look. sure enough, he laid curled on the hardwood floor, limbs awkwardly sprawled as he stared up at her with innocent eyes.

"What are you doing?" Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, and he stared at her like she’d asked a silly question, and maybe she had. Being hard to get rid of had always been Jack’s specialty, and she should’ve known better by now that retiring to the couch was never enough to retire from him.

"I’m going to sleep. What does it look like I’m doing?" Jack said like it was obvious. She almost smacked him with her pillow for his tone, but she had half a mind not to. It was the perfect opportunity for him to steal it, and it wasn’t her problem he forgot the single most important thing when it came to sleeping.

"Well, why here?" Y/N scowled, making him shrug as he settled his hands behind his head and looked up to the ceiling.

"Seems like a good spot to sleep if you ask me.” He said casually. “Nice hard floor to cushion my back, cool breeze of the air conditioning to keep me cold, and the clock ticking in my ear to keep me up. Sounds like the perfect place, eh? And if I get bored, we even have a TV.”

"I let you have the bed, you idiot.” She pursed her lips.

"Who needs a bed when I can sleep on the hardwood floor next to my sweet, pretty girl?”

Y/N cut him off before he could finish, feeling the last possible vein she could preserve while dating a man like Jack Hughes pop. "Well, then I’m going to use the bed if you won’t.” She sat up, grabbing her pillow and blanket.

And because he’s Jack Hughes, the bane of her existence and the sole cause of all her headaches, he sat up, too. "Good idea, baby. Let’s go.”

"No. You stay here, and I’ll take the bed."

"Okay.” Jack hummed, still not making any moves to lay back down.

Y/N quickly realized this wasn’t a battle she could easily win with him and she rolled her eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat as she glared down at him. Jack looked up at her with that same innocent look, those same wide eyes that blinked up at her like they couldn't possibly do any wrong.

"You do realize I’m not sharing the bed with you just because you're stubborn, right?" Y/N asked dryly.

Jack grinned, that familiar glint in his eyes that always meant trouble. “Well, I never said anything about taking the bed, now did I?”

"Jack, you can't possibly mean sleeping on the floor next to the bed.”

"It’s technically not the bed.” He insisted. “All you said is you're not sleeping with me. You never said anything about near me."

"Okay, I don't want to sleep near you.” She scowled.

"Nuh-uh, no way.” He shook his head. “You can't add rules now. It’s far too late."

"Jack, I swear to fucking God.”

"So, what'll it be? Bed or couch?"

"I hate you.” Y/N grumbled, settling back down on the cushions of their living room couch, back once more facing him. She could hear his body softly settle back onto the floor again, and after a few beats of silence, he spoke up again.

"Can I use your blanket? I’m cold."

"No."

"C’mon, just toss half of it over the edge, I’ll scoot over. We can make it work somehow.”

"Are you intentionally trying to piss me off?" Y/N snapped as she sat up, glaring down at him once more.

Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with. He was stubborn and annoying and so stupidly handsome. He made her eyes soften before she could help it as they grazed over his messy hair and the soft glow of his lip balm. He made her anger ebb away slowly no matter how hard she tried to latch onto it just from that toothy grin of his. He made her forget they were arguing and that she should be mad when she noticed the soft, gentle traces of love in his eyes.

So, Y/N blinked as she watched him, letting out a quiet sigh as he shook his head and offered her a small, innocent smile, one that told her he loved her, that he wasn’t mad, and that he'd wait on the cold, hard floor with no pillow and blanket for her as long as he needed to.

"No.” Jack chuckled. “No, I’d never want to make you mad. You’re scary when you get mad.”

"That’s rich, coming from someone who’s supposed to be a big, strong hockey player.” Y/N muttered, making him laugh softly. And she wasn’t mad anymore, not as much as she was just a bit ago. Maybe it was because she loved him too, even despite the way he made her veins pop, and her patience thin, and her head ache with that aggravating personality of his. Maybe that's what love was, when even the bad and the ugly were part of the good.

"Behind every strong man is an even stronger woman.” He cheekily remarked, his grin never fading.

"Just come here.” Y/N groaned, scooting over to make room for him on the couch.

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He didn’t even waste a single moment as if he'd been expecting it all this time as he climbed in beside her and pulled her into his chest. It was cramped and slightly uncomfortable as her legs dangled over the edge and her pillow barely fit under both of their heads, but his body was warm and his arms held her tight and she could faintly make out the thrum of his heart against her body. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, not if it was with Jack.

"Did you miss me too much?" Jack wriggled his eyebrows, pouting when she shoved his face away as he leaned in for a kiss.

"You still haven't earned kisses back yet.” Y/N grinned. “Goodnight, Jack."

"But I can't sleep without a goodnight kiss.” Jack pouted, softly nudging her with his shoulder.

"I love you.” Y/N cut him off with a giggle. Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with, but she thought that she won this time.

#jack hughes #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x female reader #jack hughes x fem!reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jh86 #new jersey devils #jack hughes drabble #jack hughes thoughts #jack hughes angst

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phone-in-the-attic · 2 years

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how the FUCK do y’all draw michael myers. tips??? /gen

#his mask is the bane of my existance #since i don't really have a ''realistic'' style #and i don't know how to make it work in a cartoony style while still being recognizable #halloween 1978 #michael myers #slasher fanart #🧟‍♂️.BRRRAAAIINNNSS #q'd #🎃.THE_BOOGEYMAN

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saetoru · 1 year

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。DIFFICULT — GOJO SATORU.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ gojo is too stubborn to let you peacefully sleep on the couch (1.2k words)

☽ contents ⋮ mentions of an argument but it's fluff, gn! reader, annoying gojo bc who is he if not a headache

☽ notes ⋮ he is so cute i wanna stab him

gojo satoru is difficult to have arguments with.

he’s stubborn and never seems to take things seriously and he never really listens to a word you say—everything always goes in one ear and out the other. like when you tell him you'll be on the couch for the night so you can have space, for example. it seems space is not a word in gojo's dictionary, because he strolls into the living room with his hands in his pockets and his lips whistling a soft tune. you glare at him from your spot on the couch, watching as he stops a few feet before you.

there’s a smooth grin on his face, almost too smooth—like he’s plastered it on for appearance’s sake, like it masks the true nature of his feelings as he hides them with that usual unbothered smile of his.

“is there room for one more?”

“no,” you say bluntly, promptly turning away to face your back to him. you don’t have to look back to know his face is curled into that pout of his—the dangerous one that does too good of a job of convincing you to give him his way.

“kay, fine,” he huffs, and then you hear the soft thud of his body settling on the floor, making you itch to turn and peek over the edge of the couch. you succeed at ignoring for him for approximately thirty seconds before the curiosity gets the better of you and you swallow your pride and take a quick look.

sure enough, he lies curled on the hardwood floor, limbs awkwardly sprawled as he stares up at you with innocent eyes.

"what are you doing?" you furrow your brows, and he stares at you like you've asked a silly question—maybe you have. being hard to get rid of has always been gojo's specialty, and you should know better by now that retiring to the couch is never enough to retire from him.

"i'm going to sleep. what does it look like?" he says like it's obvious. you almost smack him with your pillow for his tone, but you have half a mind not to—it's the perfect opportunity for him to steal it, and it's not your problem he forgot the single most important thing when it comes to sleeping.

"well, why here?" you scowl, making him shrug as he settles his hands behind his head and looks up to the ceiling.

"seems like a good spot to sleep," he says casually, "nice hard floor to cushion my back, cool breeze of the air conditioning to keep me cold, the clock ticking in my ear to keep me up. perfect place, huh? and if i get bored, we even have a tv!"

"i let you have the bed, you idiot," you purse your lips.

"who needs a bed when i can sleep on the hardwood floor next to my sweet little baby—" you cut him off before he can finish, feeling the last possible vein you can preserve while dating a man like gojo satoru pop.

"well, then i'm going to use the bed if you don't," you sit up, grabbing your pillow and blanket. and because he's gojo satoru, the bane of your existence and the sole cause of all your headaches, he sits up too.

"good idea, baby! let's go—"

"no. you stay here, and i'll take the bed."

"okay," he hums, still not making any moves to lay back down.

you quickly realize this isn't a battle you can easily win with him—as is any battle, really—and you roll your eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat as you glare down at him. he looks up at you with that same innocent look—those same wide eyes that blink up at you like they couldn't possibly do any wrong.

"you realize i'm not sharing the bed with you just because you're stubborn, right?" you ask dryly.

he grins, that familiar glint in his eyes that always means trouble, "well, i never said anything about taking the bed, did i?"

"satoru, you can't possibly mean sleeping on the floor next to the bed—"

"it's technically not the bed," he insists, "all you said is you're not sleeping with me. you never said anything about near me."

"okay, i don't want to sleep near you," you scowl.

"ah ah," he shakes his head, "you can't add rules now. it's too late."

"satoru—"

"so what'll it be? bed or couch?"

"i hate you," you grumble, settling back down on the (uncomfortable) cushions of your living room couch, back once more facing him. you can hear his body softly settle back onto the floor again, and after a few beats of silence, he speaks up again.

"can i use your blanket? i'm cold."

"no."

"c'mon, just toss half of it over the edge, i'll scoot. we can make it work—"

"are you trying to piss me off?" you snap as you sit up, glaring down at him once more.

gojo satoru is difficult to have arguments with. he's stubborn and annoying and so stupidly handsome. he makes your eyes soften before you can help it as they graze over his messy hair and the soft glow of his lip balm. he makes your anger ebb away slowly no matter how hard you try to latch onto it just from that toothy grin of his. he makes you forget you're arguing and that you should be mad when you notice the soft, gentle traces of love in his eyes.

so you blink as you watch him, letting out a quiet sigh as he shakes his head and offers you a small, innocent smile—one that tells you he loves you, that he's not mad, that he'll wait on the cold, hard floor with no pillow and blanket for you as long as he needs to.

"no," he chuckles, "no i'd never want to make you mad. you're scary when you get mad."

"that's rich, coming from the strongest sorcerer in the world," you mutter, making him laugh softly. and you're not mad anymore—not as much as you were just a bit ago.

maybe it's because you love him too, even despite the way he makes your veins pop, and your patience thin, and your head ache with that aggravating personality of his. maybe that's what love is, when even the bad and the ugly are part of the good.

"behind every strong man is an even stronger—"

"just come here," you groan, scooting over to make room for him on the couch. he doesn't need to be told twice—doesn't even waste a moment as if he's been expecting it all this time as he climbs in beside you and pulls you into his chest.

and it's cramped—it's slightly uncomfortable as your legs dangle over the edge and your pillow barely fits under both of your heads. but his body is warm and his arms hold you tight and you can faintly make out out the thrum of his heart against your body.

maybe it's not so bad—not if it's gojo.

"did you miss me too much?" he wriggles his brows, pouting when you shove his face away as he leans in for a kiss.

"still haven't earned kisses back yet," you grin, "goodnight satoru."

"but i can't sleep without a goodnight kiss—"

"love you," you cut him off with a giggle.

gojo satoru is difficult to have arguments with—but you think you win this time.

i want to have gojo satorus babies

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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buckyalpine · 1 year

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Catch Me If You Can 1/3

Mob!Bucky x Single mom police officer Reader

This is a crack fic, ridiculousness, cuteness, angstttt.

Warnings: Kidnapping, fluffffff, single mom reader, crappy ex, Mob Bucky is a whole ass warning

LMK how you feel about these 2

Part 2

Part 3

The plan was simple. Not the most ideal, not the first thing the mob boss would have planned to but desperate times called for desperate measures. He needed this shipment to go through and he was done being patient.

“We gotta move quick” Bucky murmured, driving slowly behind the target, the dark windows of the SUV making it impossible to see who was inside. As soon as the traffic light turned red, they stopped the truck, swinging the doors open and stepping in front of their mark.

“Hey! What are you-”

“Shh, just get in the car” Bucky towered over him, his face stern, cocking an eyebrow at the big eyes that stared up at him. Sam and Steve were by his side with equally stoic expressions, nodding to the open door, their hostage reluctantly getting into the backseat with an annoyed huff. They drove to Bucky’s club, target in tow as they made their way to the office, strange looks exchanged by patrons, looking at Bucky’s latest captive.

Steve shut the door while Bucky strode across the room to answer a call, breathing a sigh of relief hearing the deal had gone off without a hitch. Nothing had been seized and the deal was set, thanks to his last minute decision. He reached for a crystal decanter, pouring a glass of whiskey for himself when a voice caught his attention.

“Why am I here” Bucky turned around to face all 4 feet, 2 inches of his hostage, little furrowed brows knitted in the middle, arms crossed with his chest puffed out, a heavy bookbag making his solid stance a little wobbly. “Is this because my mommy wants to put you in jail?” Bucky nearly choked on his whisky while Steve snorted, doing a poor job to mask his laugh. “I can see why. Kidnapping is against the law”

By this point, both Sam and Steve were nearly on the floor, attempting to keep their stoic expressions on by covering their mouths, covering their laugh with a cough. Bucky raised a brow, not sure if he was insulted or impressed at the sass and lack of fear the 8 year old had. None of them were exactly fans of anything that involved children. It was an unspoken rule; children were always left untouched. He had to break that rule this time though, knowing if things had gone south, it would have led to a gang war which would have been far worse than the stunt he just pulled kidnapping a police offers son.

Police officer.

Bucky had most of the justice system and law enforcement at his fingertips, all happily bowing to his bidding, letting his deals and illegal activities slip under the radar. Most were more than happy to comply with what he asked. Most were happy to turn a blind eye.

Except the departments newest officer.

The absolute bane of his very existence.

The only person who had actually ever managed to get him arrested though he was quickly released; no one else wanting to get on his bad side by actually pressing charges.

But you refused to back down.

At first Bucky brushed it off, figuring you’d get with the program and eventually quieten down but no. You were constantly there, making his job more difficult than it had to be, your irritatingly righteous need to keep the city free of gang activity driving him up the wall.

The last straw was a few weeks ago when he had set up an arms deal with the East side of the city, an exchange of weapons, but more importantly, a possible alliance between groups. Things going successfully would mean more protection for both the North and East and stronger joint front. You had managed to track communication between the groups, readying a team to shut down the exchange, ignoring the warnings you got from the mob boss.

Bucky was done playing nice.

It was more than the police just showing up. His power meant everyone listened to him. No one, not even the law disobeyed or strayed from his word. A single officer looking to take him down would have shown weakness; that he didn’t have all the control he should have. Weak links were unacceptable.

Which lead to his plan.

To hold onto your son for awhile so you’d abandon the plan you’d put together, none of your colleagues willing to stop anything on their own, everyone retreating far away from the deal while it took place.

And it worked.

He had managed to take your son while he was on his way home from school and you had been informed of his location. Everything else went smoothly; problem solved. Still, nothing prepared him for how unbothered and how at ease his little captive would be.

“I’m guessing you’re the man mommy calls -” Your son blinked at Bucky, chewing his lips, thinking for a moment before continuing. “She says I can’t use those words. I’m gonna call you Uncle Bucky” He shrugged, plopping onto the chair, grabbing one of Bucky’s fountain pens, proceeding to doodle on a notepad on the desk.

“You-you can’t-” For the first time in his life Bucky found himself speechless, looking incredulously at the little boy proceed to draw, the mop of dark brown hair on his head, covering his eyes slightly.

“It’s Mr. Barnes” He muttered, while your son tossed his book bag off to grab a comic book that was inside, drawing a character that was on the cover.

“It’s Jordan” your son replied, now fully focused on his Batman cartoon.

“I like this kid” Steve half wheezed while Bucky stared at the little thing in front of him, his lips struggling to stay in a firm line, the corners itching to tug up into a smile.

“Mommy said you’re a bad man” He piqued, looking at the mob boss from the corner of his eye, “I can’t say you did yourself any favors today Mr. Uncle Bucky”

Before Steve and Sam could full on belly laugh, your panicked voice carried through the bar, nearing the office.

“Jordan? Jordan!” The office doors slammed open to your frantic face, running over to your little one as soon as your eyes landed on him, scooping him in your arms, “Baby, are you okay?”

Bucky felt his heart soften for a moment, watching your heart break and mend itself all at once as soon as you had your son wrapped in your arms again. He shook his head, reminding himself of why he took your son in the first place, ignoring the warmth that was trying to melt his soul.

“You fu-” You bit your tongue, taking deep breath, keeping in mind there were little ears listening. “How could you?!”

“Had to get a message across doll, you don’t seem to listen” Bucky shrugged while you let out a law growl, hauling your son up and grabbing his school bag, wanting to get him out of there and back home more than anything else.

“This isn’t over” You shot over your shoulder before leaving the office and exiting the bar. Bucky couldn’t help but smirk slightly, he didn’t like you but he couldn’t help but admire the fiery fearless side of you that never backed down, not even to him.

“M’sure it isn’t, mama bear” Bucky murmured to himself, inspecting the little doodle your son left behind; an image of Batman and a small Robin.

Of course you were not able to do anything about the kidnapping; none of the higher ups were willing to put their neck on the line to arrest Bucky and your boss shrugged, giving you a very pointed I told you so look.

Jordan also seemed unaffected with the whole ordeal, often asking you what Uncle Bucky was up to these days as if he were a colleague from work. Truthfully, you were not even 100% what Bucky had been up to. Things had been suspiciously calm ever since the incident happened and while you were thankful for some peace and quiet, you wondered if he was up to something.

Nothing was ever quiet with that man.

Meanwhile you also had other problems to deal with. While work calmed down, your stress was higher than ever looking at the number of missed calls on you phone from Jordan’s father. The very man who decided he wanted nothing to do with either of you the day you found out you were pregnant. The man who promptly kicked you out of the house to fend for yourself. The man who had now decided would be a great time to reenter your sons life and be a stand up father.

And maybe get some spousal benefits from your job.

You could never catch a break.

A few weeks later - Bucky’s office

“You kept this, huh?” Steve picked up the doodle on Bucky’s desk, smiling at the way Bucky’s eyes grew wide before trying to back to his signature frown.

“Didn’t notice” Bucky lied, though his best friend could see right through him, knowing Bucky didn’t keep just anything on his table, every single item on the desk having a purpose.

“He kinda reminds me of you” Steve pointed out, thinking back to all the times little Bucky had stood up for him when they were kids, putting on a brave face in front of the meanest. “Kinda looks like you too”

“Hm” Bucky grunted, wondering himself why he still had the picture. He made a conscious decision not to throw it out; each time he had to write something down, he’d grab a paper below it and carefully put the drawing back on top. Steve was right; Jordan did look like him when he was little and had the same feisty, sassy personality as he did though he was sure the bravery your son had was from you.

You.

In a strange way, Bucky missed having to deal with your nagging and threats to take him down; business had been quiet so there wasn’t a reason for you to chase after him. You made things interesting; it’s not that he wanted anyone to make his job harder than it had to be but sometimes the challenge was nice. Plus it didn’t hurt that you absolutely gor-

For fucks sake.

“I need a drink” Bucky shook his head, flicking away the odd feeling he started to feel in his tummy, deciding he needed something stiff over whatever he had stashed in his office. Steve snorted, easily reading his friends thoughts while they made their way to a locked cabinet below the bar counter, fishing for something that would silence unnecessary thoughts. He grabbed a glass, dropping in two ice cubes and filling the glass, taking a long draw of the dark liquid before his attention was pulled elsewhere.

Bucky’s eyes grew wide seeing the mop of dark hair and big eyes make its way through the crowded bar, customers giving each other strange glances at the little boy with a school bag who had no business being in a gang leaders club.

“Kid, what are you-

“Mommy’s hurt” Jordan looked up at Bucky with teary eyes, swallowing away the lump that formed in his throat, putting his best brave face on instead, now wasn’t the time to cry.

“What?”

“She - someone hurt her”

The thought of someone hurting you sent a surge of anger through Bucky, his jaw clenching as he slammed his glass down. It was ironic, considering the number of times he had wished you would disappear but not like this. Not once had he ever thought of hurting you; at the end of the day, you had always stood for what was right.

“Where is she” Bucky took Jordan’s hand in his, holding it firmly to ground him while making his way outside and towards the SUV. He didn’t have to even look at Steve to know he was already by his side and sliding into the drivers seat.

“Home, we live on-”

“I know where you live kid” Bucky chuckled slightly while Steve was already weaving through traffic and pulling up to your street, screeching to a halt in front of your house.

Bucky helped Jordan hop out of the SUV and lead him to you, the front door left while open with the handle broken off. There were clear signs of a struggle, seeing broken pictures on the floor and a few dents in the walls, the mess continuing all the way up the stairs to your bedroom. Bucky instructed Jordan to wait downstairs with Steve, worried about what condition he was going to find you in.

You were holding yourself up against the wall, your arm clutching your bloodied side, putting pressure on the gash that sliced you. Your head still throbbing from where you had been hit. You could barely register what was happening, gasping at the sound of Bucky’s voice suddenly in your room.

“C’mon, doll” His arm snaked around you, pulling you to his, holding up some of your weight.

“Where are we going” You wanted to fight back but the pain was making you dizzy and spots were starting to cloud your vision.

“We’re -woah-” Bucky caught you before you slipped, scooping you in his arms, bridal style “We’re going to get you fixed up” He spoke softly, carrying you out of your room and carefully down the stairs towards the SUV. You were in too much pain to protest, slipping in and out of consciousness during the drive over.

Steve had already slipped Jordan into the front seat, the both of them chatting over who would win in a hotdog eating competition; Superman, Batman or the Joker. He could see Jordan sneak worried glances behind him to look over at you, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack.

“She’ll be okay” Steve whispered to him, giving him a reassuring smile as he pulled up to the mansion. “Your mama’s strong, y’know she’s the only one Uncle Bucky is scared of” He gave your son a wink before helping him out of the car and opening the door so Bucky could carry you to his room. He carefully set you down on his bed, wasting no time grabbing a first aid kit he kept tucked under the bed for emergencies while you groaned, trying to sit up.

“Barnes, what are you-”

“Just lie down doll, let me clean this up first” He carefully lifted your blouse to assess how bad the injury was, soaking a cotton ball in some disinfectant.

“Ah!-” You winced, hissing out in pain at the saturated cotton ball Bucky pressed onto your skin, cleaning the area as gently as he could, his focus shifting between getting you better and wondering who did this to you. He’d have to worry about that later.

“Sorry, sorry” Bucky murmured, gently blowing onto the cleaned area, cooling your skin before grabbing a needle and threat, starting on some sutures to close the gash. “I’ll be quick, just bear with me” You gritted your teeth feeling the needle poke you.

“How-how do you know how to do this” Your voice was strained, struggling to keep it steady while Bucky threaded the needle as gently and quickly as possible, neatly closing off the gash.

“Gotta know this in my line of work, sugar” He smirked giving you a lopsided grin when you rolled your eyes, squeaking when he gently pushed you back down when you tried to get up. “Rest for a bit”

You reluctantly laid against the plush mattress looking up at the baby blue eyes softly peering down at you, the same blue eyes your normally wanted to poke out of frustration.

“I’ll be fine, we can go ho-” You were going to say you could go home but it was clear home wasn’t the safest option, not after what had just happened.

“C’mon, stay here for the night” He wasn’t exactly going to leave you room to do anything else, there was no way he was going to let you go home after what he had just seen. He was more than happy to sleep in a tent outside of his own home if it meant you’d just stay somewhere safe. “At least for today”

“I-we can’t-Jordan-”

“-WOULD LOVE TO STAY HERE”

Bucky let out a genuine laugh hearing your sons voice carried through the doorway where he was clearly eavesdropping. You snorted, shaking your head and closing your eyes at your sons antics, exhaustion making it hard for you to move anyway.

“We shouldn’t be here” You whispered, feeling your conscious battle within yourself. You were supposed to be fighting for the right side of the law. Bucky was the opposite of that. Then why didn’t this feel wrong? You’d spent countless hours trying to put him away. So why did you feel so safe?

“I don’t-

“Just for tonight” Bucky stated softly but firmly, leaving you little room to argue. He grabbed you a tshirt and some joggers of his, letting you clean off and chance while he slipped out of the room. He was met with curious eyes peering up at him, your son patiently waiting to know if you were okay.

“She’s okay, just getting cleaned up. Let your mama rest” Bucky whispered, leading Jordan to the TV room where Peter was busying himself with video games. “Hey Parker, brought you a worthy opponent” Peter grinned, handing Jordan a controller and shifting over so he could plop down beside him.

“She’s gonna be okay?” Jordan whispered up at Bucky, feeling a sense of calm around the man his mom usually used no-no words to describe. Surely he couldn’t be that bad?

“No one’s stronger than your mama” Bucky smiled, ruffling his hair before coming back to check on you. You had slipped back into bed, ignoring the way Bucky’s clothes were soft and comfy to wear, his scent making your insides flutter unnecessarily.

“Don’t you look cozy, officer” Bucky smirked, sauntering over with a glass of water and pain killers, leaving them on the bedside table for you. You rolled your eyes though gratefully taking 2 tablets for your aching head.

“Where’s Jordan?”

“Currently beating everyone’s ass in Mario Kart”

“This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook Barnes” You tried to keep your voice firm but the playful smirk he was giving you was infectious. You bit your lip to keep your lips from tugging up, choosing to frown more instead but that only seemed to egg him on more.

“Course, darlin’“ He drawled out, giving you a wink before bidding you good night, “Wouldn’t have it any other way” He turned the light off and gently shut the door, making his way back down to make sure Jordan had something for dinner.

You pulled the covers up, sighing into the soft plush pillows and sheets, letting sleep take over, ignoring the way your inner conscious continued to debate itself. He didn’t have to help you. Didn’t have to keep you safe. Didn’t have to do any of this and yet here you were. You and your son. Both safe. Because of him.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all...

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club @eralen @perdidosbucky-yyo @clqrosmgc @buckybarnessweetheart @pandaxnienke @manyfandomsfanvergent

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mphountitled · 7 months

Text

𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙

Spider!Hyuck x Fem!Reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙀𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙍𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥, 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙑𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙈𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝘽𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙨, 𝙎𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙎𝙥𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙪, 𝙈𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨, 𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙮 (𝙒𝙚𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙯𝙞𝙣𝙜!𝙅𝙚𝙣𝙤), 𝘿𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙎𝙢𝙪𝙩 (+18, 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝘿𝙉𝙄), 𝙂𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝘿𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙏𝙖𝙡𝙠, 𝘿𝙤𝙢/𝙎𝙪𝙗 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨, 𝙈𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙗𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝘾𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙨, 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝘿𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠, 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙐𝙥 𝙨𝙚𝙭

𝗛𝗲'𝘀 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗼 𝗣𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗸𝘀𝗸𝘀𝗸𝘀

You are dreadfully aware of every single millisecond that passes without you by his side. While the seconds bleed into nanoseconds, it introduces a new string of endless possibilities that may or may not occur while Hyuck is out.

Everything that would and could go wrong.

Freak accidents of wayward punches and dodging bullets ran through your head like a freight train.

The boy was clumsy enough to get bitten by a radioactive spider for God's sake. He is quite literally drawn to disaster.

Perhaps you would have found it attractive if it was not the bane of your very existence.

"I think this is why I'm attracted to you." Hyuck had said absentminedly the previous night. "You fuss over me way too much, and I like it way too much, so really that says more about me than it does you."

"Please don't move too much, I'm almost done-" his big doe eyes bore dangerously into yours while you concluded stitching a wound on the side of his face. Thankfully, it had been a shallow laceration, but it still punctured a nasty rip in his mask.

"I also really like it when you yell at me, or like scold me really softly. It gets me excited."

You ignore his giggles, sighing while your heart panged at the bruises scattered across his face.

"Does that mean I have mommy issues, Miss Psychologist?"

Another sigh automatically unsheathed itself from your lungs as you pressed a disinfected cotton ball to his cheek and watched him wince. "I'm not a psychologist-"

"Yet." Said Hyuck.

"Yet." You nodded, "And you know I don’t believe in any of Freud's incest logic."

"Fuck," Hyuck cursed under his breath, which you intially though was from wound repair but you quickly found out was from something else.

"You're so smart," he had affirmed with wide, soaped over eyes.

"You're quite literally studying biochemistry which is far better than my silly little psychology degree."

"And humble too!?" Hyuck was quick to grab ahold of your wrist.

"Hyuck, let me finish-"

Before you could even think, he placed your palm directly on the bulge that had grown underneath his suit, "I need you, okay? Baby, I always need you," while his eyes fluttered shut, mumbling "my pretty girl," under his breath, you had been completely and utterly spellbound by his use of the word 'need'. You were pleasantly surprised at how affected you were by the notion that your outrageously smart, charismatic and not to mention literally powerful boyfriend could ever really 'need' someone like you. 'Want' is okay. 'Want' is safe and free of complexities and obligations but 'need' extended far beyond letting him fuck you as senseless as he did last night...

But the worry was a neverending story. It hit you simultaneously - multiple little televisions streaming every possible kind of disaster all at once. Everything that might happen while Hyuck is out saving Seoul, potentially needing you and you not being there.

Even the deafening blare of the music leaking out of mysterious speakers failed to keep all the dreaded inevitabilities at bay. With a solo cup of soju in one hand and your phone in the other, you opt to gaze down at your phone quivering visciously in your hand. The minimal amount of alcohol floating in your bloodstream does little to hinder your functionality as you refresh the chat.

Hyuck's contact detail attached to a cute little picture of him stuffing his face with sushi sends a viscious pang to your heart as you sit robotically on the end of the smokers couch, nestled under a cloud of perfume and cannabis. Around you, a feverish game of truth or dare has befallen with people on the adjacent couch but your mind is elsewhere.

In Hyuck's business, death would be inevitable. All that matters is the final message you sent. One that he failed to respond to.

Check in, Spider.

To which he would allay your troubles by swiftly and quickly responding with:

checking in

Always without the improper punctuation as if to let you know he was currently very busy swinging about high rises.

This time however, he failed to check in and you're left stranded in the living room of a house party in Hongdae, with no actual clue as to where in the city your boyfriend had found himself.

"I'm sure your nerd boyfriend doesn't need you to smother him all the time," it was the drunken slurs of a fellow classmate, who's grating words succeed in peeling your eyes away from your screen momentarily.

"You're not his mother." Said Jeno with a grossly charismatic smirk, only for you to stab him with the deadliest glare you can muster. Your jaw is locked, and your phone is suffocating in your iron grip.

"And I'm sure you didn't need to smother your hair in so much hair gel, but alas, we can't all have nice things."

Ignoring the hum of praise for your rebuttal, you press send on the second message:

This party sucks... please check in.

"Instead of wallowing all by yourself, you could actually try to have some fun. Perhaps loosen yourself up in the process?" Jeno sits way too close, his side, pressing into your side without a lick of space to separate you too, but the space lessens to an even bigger degree as he leans sideways. Your head is fixed on your lap as his lips brush past your ear with the unmistakable hint of soju wafting against your neck. "Truth or dare."

"What?" You ask, utterly discombobulated, having seemingly forgotten where you are. Jeno's Cheshire cat grin is unwavering as he asks, "Truth or-"

"Oh shit- someone top the volume!"

Almost like clockwork, a sea of gasps settle amongst the other patrons congesting the living room. You send Jeno a furrowed brow to look at the tv past his grinning face, only to be immediately met with an utterly nauseating scene splashed across national television. The news anchors' tone of voice robs the scene of its devastation.

"Patrons say the shootout which occured in the Seoul district of Itaewon could have been an 'unmistakable act of terror' were it not for the friendly neighborhood Spiderman who appeared just in time to rid the gunman of his bullets. Witnesses are in awe of the Spiderman's innate, superhuman reflexes which allowed him to-"

You fail to keep the panic from exploding onto your face as the news anchor drones on and on in the background. Around you, your classmates make a quip or two before quickly losing interest. This is nothing new.

"Anyway," Says Jeno, "Truth or Dare?"

But you feel utterly sick to your stomach with the notion that Hyuck flew blindly in between an open crowd and a loaded gun. Heroism be damned, what would any of it mean if he ended up fucking dead? Your boyfriend had the capacity to flood your entire brain, therefore prompting Jeno to repeat his question.

"Princess? Truth or Dare-"

You realize then that you are dreadfully obsessive. Always fearing your partner may fulfill the inevitable and get hurt and leave you. You couldn't bare to live in your own skin if you turned out to be something that Hyuck left behind...

"Dare." The voice immediately has you snapping your head away from the tv. Everything happens at once. It is as if the sun is peeking through the crowds, bathing you in unforgettable light as you look up to find the one man you've been searching for all night. Your mouth hangs open as Hyuck sits directly beside you on the armrest of the couch. His body heat immediately restores a once thirsty, inexplicable part of your soul, rendering you a muted mess.

"Shit was crazy," Says Hyuck, pointing vaguely at the screen of the television, before looking back down at you with sly smile on his lips, "Or so I hear."

His gaze is unwavering as he pushes his thick rimmed glasses further up his nose. Your eyes are restlessly taking all of him in. Scanning every crevice of his face for any unfamiliar bruise while assessing the state of his perfectly imperfect state of curly black hair. He dons an oversized white tee and loose baggy jeans - quite literally the epitome of collegiate youth, with no signs of his double life.

"Sorry bro," says Jeno, effectively breaking the spell between the two of you. Hyuck very begrudgingly removes his eyes from the side of your head before looking at Jeno, who says, "You've got to wait your turn-"

Hyuck practically whines out loud, as petulant as a child when he throws his head back and says, "Can't you just dare her to fuck me? She is my girlfriend..." Hyuck leans forward, his fingers drawing odd circles on your shoulder as he says to Jeno, "You are aware of that, aren't you, Mr Muscle-"

"Give my turn to someone else!" You rush to interject before Hyuck embarrassed himself in front of your entire department. When did he have the time to consume alcohol because he certainly is not sober?

You're bombarded by a flurry of conflicting emotions as you secure your hand around Hyuck's wrist and drag him through the party and up the stairs. Your face is utterly muddled as you try to sieve through your emotions of anger at him for ignoring your messages and for having to be a superhero. All the while, Hyuck lets you pull his him away, a lazy smile dancing on his face as he signals a thumbs up to passersby.

It is only when you're in the confines of the homeowners guest room that you're able to hear yourself think beyond the humdrum of hip hop music. Your head pounds with the force of your emotion and you're quick to pull Hyuck inside, before pushing him against the slamming door.

"Don't throw me around, I'll cum," He whines petulantly, melting into the door before squeezing his eyes shut. You give him a murderous glare as you crowd him against the door.

"No message back, Hyuck!? You're utterly unbelievable-"

"And you're utterly gorgeous. Is this a new dress?" You slap away his hand away skimming the lining of your lace mini dress - an outfit you would've liked him to appreciate at the beginning of the night, before you found out he ditched you in favor of psychotic lunatics.

"All I ask of you is to follow through with checking in! Message me! Even if it's a freaking full stop or an emoji! Even if you're not in a position to type out a full sentence - which is complete and utter bullshit by the way, I've seen you and your high-rise selfies." You're unaware that Hyuck's slightly tipsy mind is flooded with nothing but lust and adrenaline from yet another successful day of protecting his city. He's swimming in the high of gratitude, which only multiplied once he got to lay eyes on you and your black dress, your slightly drunken hooded eyes, and your glossy, lined lips. Lips that are very firmly cursing him the hell out. He really tries to be a proactive listener and take your scolding but it once again goes straight to his dick, and his hooded eyes drift from your eyes, to your lips, to the warmth of your, to your unmarked neck, to-

"Are you seriously staring at my tits right now!?"

He immediately snaps his head up to you, inadvertently pulling you close towards him until your front was flush against his front. "Let me suck on them please- I've missed you so, so much today."

You could feel your defenses waning. A boyfriend like Hyuck was a dangerous thing to have, especially since he harbored the power to distract you so easily from your anger. Your mind is fuzzy as Hyuck lowers his lips into the crook of your neck while his fingers make careful contact with the skin of your thigh.

"Missed hearing your voice, criminals are no fun." He murmurs into your neck, already sporting that needy little of tone of voice that he knew would always succeed in getting you wet. "Missed hearing you, and smelling you," his lips drift against your neck, spraying warm kisses along your collar as a distraction from his hand slipping further up your skirt...

"Do you know how boring it actually is, half the time? I still have to make police feel like they're actually doing something so some moments I'm just perched on high rises, left to my thoughts" He presses a kiss to the supple flesh of your cleavage spilling out of the dress' neckline, "Do you know what I think about, pretty girl?"

You shake your head. You're only really aware of Hyuck's hands settled on your hip under the skirt of the dress as he lifts himself from your neck. There is a small smile on his lips as he is now the one pushing you backwards.

"I think about you. I think about kissing you," his voice is airy and teasing, "I think about hugging you," the back of your knees connect with the edge of the double bed which he effortlessly pushes you down on, "I think about smelling you, and feeling you and fucking you," Hyuck's movements bleed into urgency, at having you splayed on the bed. His hands are restless on your body as he lifts your skirt to push your underwear to the side, unable to divulge anymore time to undressing. He kneels his tall frame on the ground as he pulls your thighs towards the edge of the bed. Your knees are framing his face and he looks at you from between your shaking legs.

"P-Please, Hyuck..." all your anger and all your sensibilities have all melted away in the wake of your boyfriend blowing teasingly against your exposed core. The very sight of how utterly drenched you are sends Hyuck into a frenzy.

"Fuck, babe. Don't beg like that- I told you, you're gonna make me cum."

He is unable to keep his gaze off your glistening cunt and the arousal that he spreads against your inner thighs.

"F-Fuck I need to taste you-" serves as your one and only warning before he lowers his lips to your clit. You scream into the air, back arching off the covers as Hyuck sticks his tongue out and begins to lap furiously as your vagina. He encircles a large hand around your thigh, securing your pussy firmly against your lips with no escape. You're left to endure his needy whimpering as he kisses your cunt with absolute fervour.

"F-Fuck, I- I think it's too much-" You attempt to pull away yet again but this boy is strong and very fucking needy and he refuses to let you get away from his lips suctioning your cunt while his tongue delved inside...

Your hips immediately grind your pussy further against him, only eliciting a whorish moan from him before he quickly rises. His curls bounce as he nods profusely, "Fuck, yes, baby... use my mouth okay? Please, please, please-" by the third 'please' he's attached his lips to your pussy once more, brain utterly flooded with lust and satisfaction at the feeling of your hips pushing against his face. Your movements have him nosing your cunt, evoking another strained moan from you - a moan so dirty and slutty, is has him automatically bumping his bulge against the bedpost to rhythm of his tongue moving in and out of you.

"Are you going to cum for me, Pretty Girl?" He asks, swiftly replacing his tongue with his fingers which slide so easily into your slippery cunt it had him grinding further into the bed. "Fuck- you're taking my fingers so well, baby!" His glasses fog up and clear in intervals as he nears his releases. He honestly doesn't know whether to watch how your face contorts into the glory of your orgasm or whether to watch your cunt swallow his fingers.

"You're gonna cum by humping my fingers, aren't you baby?" He more so tells himself, egging his impending orgasm along with a slow, nod while his fingers spear in and out of your pussy.

"F-Fuck, I think I'm cumming-"

You're most certainly cumming a nanosecond later, and the sight of your parted lips and the sound of your words have Hyuk whining into the air before melting into his own orgasm from rutting against the bed. His head melts in between your legs, while he completely makes out with your cunt and his fingers continue to fuck you through your orgasm. Your body is floating.

Gone are the worries.

Gone is the sliver of anger.

You're vaguely aware that this might have been Hyuck's plan all along, but you can not even bring yourself to be angry. Not when he is delivering such sincere kisses on your quivering, aching cunt.

"What the heck are you doing?" You ask, panting heavily as you watch your boyfriend be so utterly transfixed by your vagina, he's taken to whispering to it.

"I think she wants me to cum inside her next time. She's saying you should go on the pill-"

You muster enough energy to roll your eyes before saying, "take your fingers out of me-"

"But I like having my fingers inside of you-"

"Hyuck-"

"And I'm sorry, okay?" He lowers his head to press a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, "I'm sorry for not responding to your message. I promise to check in. Always."

There is no stopping your heart from melting, especially not when he is around.

"Okay," you say with a shaky breathe, "I believe you,"

613 notes · View notes

soullumii · 11 months

Text

masked up | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: joel fucks you while wearing his gas mask

warnings/tags: 18+ content MDNI, very self indulgent smut (unprotected piv oops, mask kink 🤭, vaginal fingering, riding joel cowgirl because that is for sure his fav position, little bit of a bulge kink, oral [m receiving]) descriptions of blood and violence, established relationship (married!! whoop whoop!!), making joel call you “my wife” because i’m weak for that shit, soft!joel, protective!joel, this got sappy, pet names galore as usual, NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 4.2k

a/n: i can’t explain how i feel about joel wearing a gas mask. i swear every time he put it on while i was playing tlou pt 1 i moaned /hj. just HEAR ME OUT PLEEK. JUST WATCH THIS (it’s a tiktok edit) OK YOULL UNDERSTAND.

You don’t mean for the mask to become a thing.

But it does. It becomes a Thing™.

It all starts and ends with Joel, like good and bad things usually do. And this thing is no exception.

But it all begins with something bad.

Coming across spores nowadays is few and far between for you. You're not usually on patrol much, your job being to tend to the crops in the greenhouse and feed the livestock.

Today, though, you’re not so lucky. With Tommy out sick, you’re filling in for him. Thankfully, though, you’re paired with Joel, your very lovely and very experienced in the art of dealing with infected, husband. So you know if you come across spores, your husband will have your back.

Spores are annoying, but they're manageable with gas masks. When you and Joel enter an abandoned office building on a new patrol route and you catch sight of the little specks floating through the air, you immediately put yours on, Joel doing just the same.

The floaty fungal fuckers themselves aren't scary, especially not when you have the gas masks to keep you safe. It's just what waits in the shadows that scares you, because where there are spores, there's infected. Lots of them.

And usually interspersed in that conglomerate of stalkers and clickers are the big, meaty ones. The kind that have been sitting and festering for years. The kind that could literally rip you into pieces, regardless if you have a gas mask on or not. Bloaters, yeah, those big shits. The fucking bane of your existence.

Unfortunately, the one lazing around in this abandoned office building must somehow pick up on your undying hate for them because within minutes of you and Joel looting the place for all it’s worth, it comes clambering out of what used to be a conference room.

It's a big one. Noticeably disgusting, outrageously hideous, growling and slobbering as it slings mycotoxin at you. It's not very fast, and yet it's so fucking terrifying as it lumbers after you, because you know exactly what it’s capable of.

You're shooting at it with whatever arrows you have left in your backpack (though they’re mostly just bouncing off it’s thick fungal exterior), and Joel's crunching out shot after shot with his shotgun, but neither of you are hardly making a dent.

God, you wish Joel had brought the flamethrower he keeps in his storage room. You’d make a Molotov cocktail, but with the other infected hot on your heels, there's no time.

A stalker comes crawling out of the shadows behind you, knocking over an office chair in the process, and you whip around to lodge an arrow right between its eyes. Two more come swinging out of nowhere, and you're so focused on trying to get rid of them so that they can't reach you—can't reach Joel—that you don't realize you've left your back unattended until a large, gross excuse for a hand lands hard on your shoulder, lugging you backwards with inhuman strength.

Joel shouts your name with increased panic, and you hear his gun fire off more rounds into the bloater's back, but it doesn't care, it's hands finding your head and jaw, gripping you so tight you think it might shatter your mandible.

"Joel!" You scream, eyes squeezing shut as the pain in your jaw multiplies.

This motherfucker is about to rip you clean in half—

You think this is it, I'm about to die in front of my husband by being torn from the jaw down, but, thankfully, death never comes. Instead, the bloater releases you with a pained roar as the sound of squelching fills your ears. You manage to back away enough to watch Joel tug the bloater off of you by the handle of his machete, the blade lodged in its chest.

He pulls the machete out only to swing it down in an arc straight into its head, repeatedly. Blood splatters all over him as he bludgeons the wretched thing. Over his veiny arms, his black mask. It sinks into the fabric of his flannel.

And funnily enough, this is when it becomes a thing.

The bloater crumples to the floor with a gurgling groan as it finally dies, and Joel turns to you, chest heaving and eyes wide and panicked. They soften, relieved when he catches sight of you physically intact, though, mentally a bit checked out.

Whether that’s because you’re in shock or because your brain is rewiring as it files this new image of Joel away, who knows? Maybe it's a little bit of both.

“Are you okay?" Joel asks, sheathing his machete to look you over. His hands catch your jaw gently, a welcome contrast to the bloater. He turns it this way and that, checking for any damage or possible bites.

A traitorous thrumming starts up between your thighs as he stares you down through the lenses of his mask.

"I'm fine, Joel," you say, breathlessly. "Thanks."

“Thank god,” he squeezes your arm lovingly, grateful to see you in one piece. “Let’s get outta here.”

- - -

"Do you like the masks?" You ask him eventually, when you're back outside, the setting sun warming you pleasantly as the tall borders of Jackson rise in the distance.

You both took the masks off the minute you escaped the spores, but a part of you secretly hoped Joel would keep his on.

Joel scratches at his graying beard. "They keep us safe. Don't feel much for 'em at all really." He glances sidelong at you, a curious quirk to his lips. "Why?"

You shrug, "No reason."

Just trying to figure out if you'd wear it during sex if I asked you to, that's all.

“Alright, somethin's up," Joel says. "You've got the look.”

“What look?”

“The sex look.”

You halt in your hike, turning to narrow your eyes at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Joel fails to stifle a chuckle. “You’re horny. That’s the face you make when you want to have sex. Like you wanna eat me alive.”

Shit. He’s found you out.

“How would you know?”

He blinks. “Honey, I’m married to ya. Of course I’m gonna know.”

Valid. Still-

"I’m not horny," you try to defend, though you've never been good at lying, and based on the self satisfied smile Joel wears, you know he sees right through you. "We almost died, Joel. Maybe this is my 'loving every minute of my life' look."

"I know that look. This ain't it."

Jesus Christ.

You sigh heavily. “Okay, yes. Maybe I am a little horny.”

"Because…what? We almost died? That gets you goin'?"

"No," you grit. You can’t even look at him when you say it. “It’s the mask.”

His brows knit. “The...gas mask?”

You nod tightly.

“I don’t think I’m followin’,” Joel says.

Is he seriously asking you to spell it out for him?

You take a deep, steadying breath. You don’t quite know how to phrase this, so you just go for it. “Watching you save my life in the gas mask just sort of woke something up in me. It was hot.”

“Oh.”

Yup. He definitely thinks you’re crazy.

“So, what, you want me to fuck you while wearin' the mask or somethin’?”

Heat pools heavy and thick between your thighs at his words, your heart hammering behind your ribs. “Something like that, yeah.”

Joel straightens. “...Okay. I can do that.”

Your head whips up. “Wait, seriously?”

“You’re my wife. If you asked me to fuck you with a damn jester’s hat on I’d do it.”

You laugh. “Okay, let’s not go that far.”

“I’d really do it for you.”

“It sounds like you actually want to wear it.”

He chuckles, and you two resume walking back to Jackson. “Alright, so, gas mask on tonight,” he says. “Any other requests?”

“Since you’re asking…maybe you could wear a cowboy hat sometime…”

- - -

"Jesus, you're really lovin' this," Joel muses.

You're laid out beneath him in your shared bed, his long calloused fingers deep in your cunt, his thumb circling slowly over your clit, drawing out your pleasure, stretching it like taffy. Your jeans are still on, unbuttoned and unzipped, and your soiled underwear is pulled to the side as Joel’s hands unwind you.

You're grasping onto his muscled forearm for dear life, moans leaking out of you in a steady stream as he fucks his fingers into you, curling up to stroke that spot that has you clenching down hard on his digits as the burning starts in your toes, climbing up your thighs.

He looks so fucking good with that mask situated over his handsome face, his peppered hair flipping out over the straps that keep it snug on him. His eyes are dark through the lenses as they watch you unravel before him, almost black from how dilated his pupils are.

His jeans are still on, his erection straining hard against his zipper. The flannel he wore earlier is gone, giving you the perfect view of his toned chest and the dark hair that dusts it. There's still some blood stains on his mask. Every time you catch sight of them, your body ignites with something carnal and hungry.

"’Cause, you look hot," you huff between moans.

Joel laughs, deep and rumbling, and the mask warbles it a bit, adding a distortion to his voice that for some reason makes everything happening so much hotter. “I still don’t really get it, but if it’s makin’ you this wet, I don’t care.”

You moan particularly loud at the sound of his voice muffled through the mask and cant your hips against his hand, the combination of his thumb circling your clit and his fingers fucking up into you has you dangling dangerously close to the edge.

“I-I’m close, Joel.”

His brows furrow behind his mask, and he quirks his fingers inside you even more, and you jolt against his hand.

“C’mon then, baby. Come for me. Show me how much this pretty pussy loves this mask.”

Fucking shit. When you first met Joel, he hardly spoke a single word, and even when you got him to open up more, he was thoughtful with what he said, chose his words carefully. Unless he was angry, then he could be a bit of an ass.

In bed though? Shit, if you can get him to shut up it’s a damn miracle.

“F-fuck, Joel,” you whine, legs stiffening as your orgasm swells inside you, a match striking, lighting up your viscera as pleasure fast-releases inside your veins.

“There you go baby, that’s it,” Joel purrs. “So pretty when you come.”

You inhale shakily as the last few shocks fizzle through you, your clit throbbing as you come down from your high.

“Fuck…” you huff, trying to catch your breath.

He strokes your thigh lovingly, and if you could see him behind the mask you’d assume he’s probably wearing that soft smile that he gets sometimes that melts you into a puddle of mushy gushy feelings.

Joel leans back on his knees. “Now it’s time to deliver on that promise,” he says, and your skin tingles at the sound of his zipper.

“Wait,” you tell him, and he stops, looking at you in concern.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“No I just…I wanna show you how much this means to me.”

“Me wearin’ this mask? It’s not a big deal-“

You sit up and plant your hands on his chest, pushing him down until his back hits the mattress, effectively shutting him up.

You swing your leg over him, situating yourself right on his lap and peel off your tank, delighting in the way his eyes widen and his hands come down to settle warmly on your thighs.

The muscles in his arms shift as he squeezes your flesh. The drag of the crotch of his jeans against yours has you biting your lip, a zing of pleasure shooting through you.

Joel’s eyes have darkened behind his mask, his pupils swallowing his irises whole besides the thin circle of hazel remaining at the edges as he watches you.

“I’ve never hated jeans more than I do right now,” he says lowly, his gaze dropping to the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

His strong hands slide up from your thighs to your hips to your waist, his dry, calloused skin causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. Finally, his palms cup your breasts, unrestrained by a bra because they’re too hard to come by in this day and age.

He squeezes gently, and your nipples tighten beneath his palms. And then he rolls one between his thumb and forefinger, and your back arches, pressing you further into him. Your hips grind down automatically, and Joel releases a hazy moan.

“Maybe,” you gasp when you roll your hips again, reveling in the delicious friction against your clit. “You should take them off.”

“Yours first.”

You don’t press him on it. You want your jeans off. So you lift yourself off of him and the bed to tug at your zipper, and Joel watches raptly as you pull your skinny jeans down your thighs, kicking them off your ankles.

And then you’re only in your underwear, and you throw your legs astride him again, the cloth of your underwear catching deliciously on the tent in his jeans. Joel’s hands find your body immediately, like a sweet tooth to a chocolate bar. His fingers dig into your flesh, and he grips your thighs, pulling them apart to set you on him fully. A shudder wracks your spine at the feeling of him pressed against your throbbing core.

“Goddamn,” he growls, eyes roving over you hungrily. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

You grind down on the hard outline of his cock, and Joel can’t help his reflexive thrust into you, and you sigh.

“I need you in me, Joel,” you whisper, leaning forward to plant your hands on his broad chest, your fingers messing with the hair dusting his sternum. “Need your cock filling me up.”

“Christ,” he swears, eyes falling shut as he bucks again. “Need’a be in you, sweetheart.”

His hands find your hips and then your ass, squeezing the muscle cultivated there from twenty years of surviving in an apocalyptic world.

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your panties, warm and confident. He lightly rakes his fingernails over your skin, running his calloused fingertips reverently over the stretch marks on your hips.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers through the mask. “Wish I could kiss you.”

You shiver and your arms loop around his neck. His back is scarred beneath your hands, and you rub gently into the muscle of his traps, causing Joel to release a groan.

His hand gravitates from your hips to the apex of your thighs, and your breath catches in your throat at the warmth radiating from his fingers when he positions them just below where you want him most.

He circles your clit again, smooth pleasure seeping through your nerve endings and your head falls back in a relaxed moan. You grind against the hard outline of his cock and the pads of his fingers against your clit, each slow drag of your hips causing pleasure to fizzle through you, like a flavored tab in a glass of water.

Your hands travel down his chest and stomach, outlining the thick, jagged scar there. Over his dark happy trail that starts just above his belly button and leads down to what your body is desperately craving. A little treasure map.

You deftly undo the button and zipper and Joel makes a wrecked noise in the back of his throat when your hand brushes the hard outline of him through his briefs.

“Wanna show you how much I like you in the mask,” you purr as you palm him. “How hot it gets me.”

“Fuck,” his head falls back when you tug him out of his briefs, stroking his thick length to full mast. “Please, baby.”

You inch yourself down his legs so that you’re face to face with his weeping cock. Joel’s eyes widen and his hand comes up to gently stroke your hair appreciatively, tucking a lock of it behind your ear. He looks at you with adoration, and your heart swells in your chest.

“I love you, y’know that?” He says, softly.

You can’t help but get a bit misty-eyed, always a fan of Joel when he gets soft like this. “I love you, too.”

He smiles, and glances down at his dick, maneuvering it so that the head skates across your lips, leaving a trail of precum. His heated eyes find yours again. “Go on and show me then.”

“Yes sir.”

You keep eye contact as you lean forward to give his cock little kitten licks, and his head drops against the pillow with a groan, eyes lidded. “Shit, you can’t be lookin’ at me like that.”

You just smirk, and lick a long stripe up a prominent vein and kiss the tip of his cock sweetly before slowly taking him into your mouth. You take in as much as you can (which isn’t much, he’s pretty fucking big), and your hands find whatever you can’t fit.

You start sucking him in earnest, pressing the flat of your tongue against the ridge of his cock, delighting in the way the hand that had softly petted your hair before is now gripping it tight when you tongue that sensitive spot that always gets him reeling.

“That’s it, honey,” he groans, his hips twitching with tiny little thrusts as he tries to hold himself back. “Just like that.”

You moan against his cock, which has him bucking up reflexively, shoving his dick further into your warm mouth. Your throat spasms around the head of his cock when it hits the back of it, gagging lightly and tears forming at the edges of your eyes.

“Shit, I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he says, wiping the tears from your eyes with his thumb.

You shake your head slightly in reassurance, moaning around his cock again, and he releases a heavy breath, eyes fluttering shut once more as you continue to suck and bob and lick, effectively ruining him.

“Okay, okay, baby,” he says after a little while, lightly tugging on your hair to try and get you to stop. “I’m gonna come if you keep doin’ that.”

You release his cock with an audible pop and send him a pout, “But that’s the whole point.”

He chuckles a bit, sliding the mask off for a second so he can pull you up to kiss you softly, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You moan gratefully into his mouth when he tilts his head to deepen it, opening up greedily. As attractive as you find the mask, you certainly do miss being able to kiss him. You sigh happily when he pulls back to mouth at your jaw and throat, sucking and nipping his way down.

“I wanna be in you when I come,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough and gruff and you don’t think you’ll ever tire of it. “How’s that sound?”

You moan softly when he bites down on your throat, his beard and mustache tickling your skin. “Sounds…sounds good.”

He gives you another kiss before tugging his mask back down over his head, and your skin ignites, pussy fluttering.

Joel laughs. “I can literally see the cogs in your brain turnin’ when I put this on. You really do like it, huh?”

You shrug with a guilty smile. “The heart wants what it wants.”

And what it wants is him. Real bad.

So you drift a hand down to pull your panties to the side and shift your hips to position yourself over him, the head of his cock catching on your entrance. You sink slowly down, his length filling you.

The two of you moan in tandem.

“There we go,” he sighs.

“Mm, so big, Joel…” you whimper, and his dick jumps inside you.

You both just hang there for a moment, suspended in time as you get used to the feeling of each other. You’ve done this so many times, know each others bodies inside and out, yet it’s still a brand new experience every time.

You always have to adjust to his thickness.

You break the spell with an experimental roll of your hips, and Joel’s hands clamp down on your hips with a vice grip.

“Christ—“ he swears. “You’re so good, so good for me.”

He’s filling you so fully, so deeply right now, you’re practically speared on him, and each roll of your hips has your clit brushing against his pelvic bone, amplifying that white hot pressure building inside you.

When you and Joel first started getting intimate together, he was quiet in the bedroom. Probably a bit nervous around you—he was the one that fell first, after all.

But now after years together, he lets it all out.

Grunts and moans leak out of his gritted teeth as you fuck yourself on top of him. He’s dousing you in praises, telling you what a good girl you are. How perfect you are. How lucky he is to call you his wife.

It’s all so very adorable and very sexy and you just love him so fucking much.

Joel plants his feet down behind you, just to get some leverage so he can thrust his hips up into you at a steady pace. Your hands find purchase on his chest, keeping you upright while he fucks you.

His large palm slides around the front of your stomach, pressing down, and you can feel the way his cock moves inside you as he does it.

“You see that, baby?”

You haven’t really looked down, so focused on the way he looks in the mask, how his breaths are coming out heavier and rougher through it. The way he sounds wrecked. But now that he’s asking, you do.

You look down, only to see a slight bulge in your stomach with each thrust of his hips.

A pleasant shudder runs through you. “Oh fuck.”

“Love seein’ the way I fuck you,” he rasps.

You watch his cock disappear and reappear with a slack jaw, eyes glazed as his hands stray to your thighs, squeezing and kneading the flesh.

You’re losing strength in your arms, your nails scraping through his chest hair as you try and remain upright, but the effort of matching his thrusts with your own along with the steady ecstasy filling your marrow is enough to have you collapsing against his chest, boneless.

And now Joel can really take the reins. His big hands grip your ass, holding you still as he pounds into you, your cheek smushing against his pecs with each heavy thrust, your clit rubbing against his sweat-slicked skin.

“F-fuck, Joel. Oh my god—“

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunts. “Atta girl.”

Within moments you’re already there, eyes squeezing shut, brows pulled together in ecstasy as your climax crashes over you in rolling waves. It ebbs and flows within you as you listen to the heated pants modulating through Joel’s mask, watching his eyes gloss over as he chases his own release.

It’s so fucking good. So right. Your husband never fails to give you exactly what you want.

His thrusts grow sloppier as he follows soon behind you, the fluttering walls of your cunt pulling him over faster.

“I’m comin’,” he grits. And then he’s grinding his cock into your pussy, holding you still against him as he paints your insides with thick ropes of cum, releasing a long, drawn out, wrecked moan of your name.

You lay pliant on his chest, practically drooling on him as you both come down and his cock softens inside you, slick and cum running down the inside of your thighs. His heart pounds under your ear, a steady reminder that he’s alive and here and that you, thank fuck, didn’t die earlier today.

“Thanks,” you mumble against his perspirant skin.

He tugs the mask off, his hair sticking to his sweaty temple. “‘Course, darlin’. Though as hot as that was, I dunno about having sex wearin’ that again. I think I was startin’ to get light headed from the lack of air.”

You giggle, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I liked it. But now anytime we have to wear them again I’m just gonna be thinkin’ about this. Gonna get a damn hard-on when I’m on patrol.”

You smirk, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips. He opens up beneath you immediately, moaning softly into your mouth.

“Maybe that was my goal all along,” you mumble, smiling into the kiss.

He pulls back with a quirked brow and crooked grin. “You are into some sick kinds of torture.”

“I mean, if it gets you coming home to me quicker…”

“Oh I’ll be comin’, alright.”

Your face scrunches. “God, you’re sick. Why did I even marry you?”

His eyes melt, one hand squeezing your ass cheek, the other stroking your jaw. “Because you love me.”

That causes tears to well in your eyes again, because despite everything, despite all the fucked up things about this world, you do love him. You’re capable of loving him. And you’re grateful that, even with the terrible way life has treated him, he’s capable of loving you too.

“Yeah, I do,” you say.

He kisses you again, sweet and passionate and filled with all the things he never knows how to say. “I love you, too.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #tlou #game joel miller #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #hbo joel miller

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fluffysucker · 4 months

Text

Bad Things

Bucky Barnes x Reader

TW: Violence. Fighting. Brief mention of torture. Steve is alive and well.

The only way out was to awake them. And you did.

A/n: Heavily influenced by oxytocin by Billie Eilish. No like you will find lyrics throughout. Listen to it while reading, please.

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me.

Main Masterlist

You were sure that if you weren't driving the motorcycle, your legs would be bouncing, your hands would be shaking, and your palms would be sweating. But you were focusing on the road ahead despite feeling like you were driving on autopilot. You may not look like it, but you were a mess. Internally, at least. Anxity from the plan, danger of the situation, horrors from flashbacks, and uncertainty of the results. You were bitting your lips that you were close to feeling the metallic-tasting liquid on your tongue.

The darkness that grew, the further you got close to the agreed upon location, wasn't helping either. For someone who did this for a lifetime, you were spiraling. You wished you could cancel everything and come up with something different, but you couldn't.

Can't take it back once it's been set in motion.

You started to regulate your breath, take control of your mind, and keep your heartbeats in check once you saw the warehouse. It was now. There was no going back.

You stopped the motorcycle abruptly, causing the sand and dust around you to fly away. You took one last breath before taking the helmet out.

You got up and steadied your posture. The suit was never comfortable on your skin. Today, you felt like it was crawling on your skin, trying to devour you. You hid the suffocating feeling and put the act into action.

If you only pray on Sunday,

Could you come my way on Monday?

Confidence and peril were displayed. A strenuous look on your face. You were back in her.

"I thought you weren't coming." His voice annoyed you so much that you wanted to cut his throat open.

"I gave you a word, didn't I?" You came to a stop with enough distance between you and him. Even your voice was different in your ears.

"It's not like you had many choices." His laugh sent shivers through your body that you were able to hide.

"I always believed in your intelligence, moon." You pulled your hands into fists to stop any visible reaction from coming out of you.

The name was only associated with corruption and cruelty. Something the man in front of you strived for.

"With both of your capabilities, we will go back to the top of the world." The evil smile was more telling of his intentions than his disturbing words.

With the mere mention of him, you felt the air get thicker, the wind blowing harder, the stars dimming their lights, and the rocks and pebbles shaking on the floor.

He was here.

"Great. We didn't have to wait long for him." The man almost clapped in excitement.

In the sea of the darkness of the night and the void you were in, he appeared. His black suit made him almost unseen in the darkness of the night. But his heavy footsteps made him known.

The golden in his arm reflecting the light of the stars and the mask covering all his face except the eyes were making him even more fearful.

In person, he was much more terrifying than the stories and myths.

However, the crazy man didn't think so.

"Would you look at that?" He said once that the two of you were standing next to each other. You wanted to hold his hand, seeking any sort of comfort and reassurance, but you knew it would blow out your act.

"The Winter Soldier and Wicked Moon. Together and back at their home."

Dugal, the man speaking, had been the bane of your existence for some time now. Every mission, every warehouse, every file, and every piece of evidence all trailed back to him.

The manic, who had been obsessed with bringing Hydra back to life,.

With the right allies and calculated steps, he was able to achieve most of his plans in secret, but why show yourself now? Why draw attention to you now?

Because it was time to get Hydra's greatest weapons back.

You and your husband.

You and Sergeant James Barnes

Wicked Moon and The Winter Soldier.

You and Bucky shared the same life. Kidnapped by Hydra, injected with the serum, erased and brainwashed, trained to maximum efficiency. You reached levels of skills that were unmatched.

Despite the different start, you and Bucky were the faces of the same coin.

You were taken a bit after Bucky. Hydra had the goal of making both of you into its lethal duo. Unbeatable and unpredictable. You and Bucky became the ghost story for decades. Never once seen or traced.

You were a myth that terrified all.

And for decades, you spent all your days with Bucky, or who you called soldier at a time, because you didn't know his real name. Nor did he know yours, and he called you Moon.

You shared a cell. You trained together. You were sent on missions together. You were tortured together. You were used to each other's screams and pains. You were the same person in many ways.

While Hydra was blinded and happy with your success rate and obedience, they failed to notice the deep connection that was forming between the two of you.

The comfort you found in each other. The conversations without words. The accustomedness. The long eye contact and gaze The gentle touches that only you provided each other with. The worry and panic if one went on solo missions.

You understood each other. You trusted each other. You empathized with each other. You prayed for each other's freedom.

You loved each other.

So, looking at Bucky with questioning and worried eyes above Steve Roger's unconscious body after you disobeyed the direct orders of eliminating Steve and following Bucky to save him from death by drowning, Bucky knew he could never leave you. He took your hand and ran away.

Other people wouldn't stay

Other people don't obey

You and me are both the same

You should really run away

It was a long and bumpy road. Gaining back your memories and learning how to live. But you held each other's hands. And in the face of all the hardships, you stood together.

You fought it all until you finally settled into your shared apartment in Brooklyn. Almost ten years after escaping Hydra.

You thought life was finally good. You knew who you were. You got back your identities. You were healing bit by bit. You finished therapy and were officially pardoned. You were allowed on missions, but more importantly, you were allowed to turn down missions. A luxury you and Bucky never had.

You were so happy for Bucky, who got to have his bestfriend back, Steve, and make a new one, Sam. You were happy that one of you could have someone, especially after finding out that you had nobody, which made you the perfect target for Hydra in the first place.

But being the good people they were, Steve and Sam instantly took you in like family. They could easily tell how much you meant to Bucky. Even from the first day. Whether on the bridge or in Bucharest, The uncontrolled urge to protect you despite being perfectly capable of looking after yourself. The care and admiration in his eyes whenever you were around or your name was mentioned. All and more signs that exposed Bucky's feelings for you.

They were more than happy when Bucky told them that you got married on the very long, overdue vacation that you went on.

You were everything to Bucky's. His love. His life. His rescue. His salvation. You were his reason to keep going.

While he felt bad that you had to go through the tough life you had, he couldn't imagine how his life would have looked if he had never met you.

So when the danger of Hydra taking you away from him arose with Dugal's appearance, Bucky almost lost his mind.

Dugal seemed insistent on taking you and Bucky back. He was destroying places, terrorizing, and hurting innocent people. Dugal heard you were trying to be good people, so he played on your conscience. He was pushing you and Bucky towards this moment. The moment you caved and gave up. The moment you returned to Hydra.

So, with his knife on Cass's neck, you surrendered. You promised to meet him and do whatever he wanted. And you promised to bring Bucky as well. He wanted the both of you.

And you listened.

Here you were. In the suits you thought you would never put on again. Triggering the two people you buried so deeply within. In front of the warehouse of an enemy, you fought for and against your whole lives.

"This is your home. This is your purpose. Not fake heroism. You were made to serve the greater good. To protect and serve Hydra." Dugal's voice made its way to your ears.

"You belong to Hydra. And Hydra only."

'Cause as long as you're still breathing

Don't you even think of leaving

Not gonna wanna look away, look away, look away

You're gonna wanna get involved, involved, involved

And what would people say, people say, people say

If they listen through the wall, the wall, the wall?

You kept the stoic expression on your face, refusing to let him see the effect his words had on you.

The door of the warehouse opened, and walking out of it were Dugal's two trusted men that you saw everywhere with him. Nedward and Alexios. They stopped behind him.

Following them, hundreds of agents came out of the warehouse. They surrounded you and Bucky in seconds. You looked at Dugal, confused.

"I want to make sure you are still the best. I want to know where to pick up from." His smile was wicked and filled with bad intentions.

"Call it a test. A test of Wicked Moon and The Winter Soldier's abilities." His wicked smile wasn't flattering.

You got into a fighting position quickly, not willing to lose this. You felt Bucky take position, too, his back turning to you. You were back-to-back, moving in slow circles, assisting the situation.

And once the first agent threw the punch, it was nonstop.

I can see it clear as day

You don't really need a break

Wanna see what you can take

You should really run away

While the agents largely outnumbered you, they were at a disadvantage. You and Bucky fought like one. You had a never-seen-before fight style. You designed it so that you used each other's strengths to the full and utilized the weaknesses as power points. You used your full bodies in fighting. You were familiar with each other's bodies and movements. You grabbed weapons that were strapped to the other's suit. You twisted around each other to reach as many targets as possible. You trained until you perfected it. No flaws. No mistakes. No room for lacunas.

It didn't take long before the last agent was down on the floor. You felt like it was harder to breathe. There was a ringing noise in your ears. Your hand wanted to start shaking. Tears were rushing to your eyes. You were having a panic attack.

Memories of missions and assignments you did throughout your life It all looked like this. You standing above the fallen, waiting for your destiny to be decided by an evil organization that thought of you as an object of killing.

Dugal's voice gave you a sense of where you were and the situation around you. Quickly, you pushed your emotions inside and regained your focus. A trait you learned from your days at Hydra. Human emotions were never well accepted by Hydra.

You shook your head as you looked at Dugal, who was clapping slowly.

"Excellent. Great job." He moved a bit towards the both of you.

"It seems you haven't changed. Still the best." You succeeded in his test.

"You did cost me all the agents in the base. But we will bring more." Dugal was proud of the two assets.

"So it's only us in here?" You were hoping to get a specific answer.

"Yes. Tomorrow, I will bring agents and recruiters. Also, scientists who know how to treat and handle great weapons like you. This will be Hydra's biggest base." Dugal seemed excited for his plan.

However, once the words left his mouth, chaos erupted everywhere.

Bucky caught the shield in his hand as Sam and Steve landed on the ground and attacked Dugal. You and Bucky moved to Nedward and Alexios. Each taking on one.

Cars and vehicles appeared everywhere, lighting up the deserted place.

This was the plan all along.

No matter how much time passed, Hydra's men would always have something in common. They were arrogant. They had an ego big enough for an entire population. And that made them stupid. That made them vulnerable to mistakes.

You and Bucky knew that more than anyone. So the plan was to trick Dugal with your alliance until he was defenceless. It was risky, but it worked.

You only let go of Alexios once handcuffs were secured around his wrists. Same with Bucky and Nedward. You turned to see Sam and Steve holding Dugal until Torres handcuffed him.

"You think you won?" His words were more direct towards you and Bucky.

"You think you can ever escape this? You think you can be free? You are delusional. Hydra will never die." Dugal continued. Torres handcuffed him, letting Steve through him in one of the more armored cars and strapping him more.

"Cut off one head; two more shall take its place. Hail HYDRA!"

Steve closed the door of the car.

They weren't planning to cut off one head. They were planning to burn down the whole bunch. No mercy. No stopping until they were all gone.

Once his voice was muted and you couldn't see him anymore, you couldn't hold up any longer. You sat on the ground, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to get hold of yourself, trying to reconnect, trying to disassociate from what just happened.

Like you, immediately after the car started to move, Bucky threw the mask off his face, finally breathing. He hated everything about this mask. Trapped like an animal behind it. Deprived of any form of humanity.

He prayed he never had to put on again.

"You okay?" Sam asked his friend, worried about the mental toll this whole act may have had on him.

Despite having his nephews being the ones in danger, Sam was against this plan. He cared about you and Bucky dearly and didn't want to know how stepping back into your assassin personas would hurt your healing. You had come a long way.

While your quick response to save his nephews and willingness to do this for them touched his heart immensely, Sam couldn't help but feel like they should come up with something else.

But both of you insisted, and it worked, but was the cost expensive?

Bucky nodded. They were okay physically, at least.

Bucky turned around to see you still sitting on the sandy ground, face in hand. He knew it wasn't just today, but the whole thing. Hydra still haunted you, messing with your progress. He understood.

Bucky sat on the ground next to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling into him and letting you lay in his laps, both of your legs on the side of his thigh. You nuzzled into his neck, holding his gear in your hand. You wanted to disappear in him.

"It's over. You're fine. You are okay. You are safe." Bucky's voice whispered in your ears, the end of his long hair touching your face and his hands wrapping up your back and waist.

You felt the tension leaving your body a bit by bit, making yourself only focus on Bucky's voice and letting yourself breathe. You knew you were surrounded by people, but you didn't care.

You only cared about Bucky right now.

You moved away from Bucky so you could look at him.

"We are okay. We are safe." You said to Bucky.

Because you cared about Bucky more than you cared about yourself. You loved Bucky more than anything. Bucky was the reason you were still alive. Bucky was your everything.

You wanted him to know that he was okay, too. You both survived this. You weren't back in that cell. You were going to your home.

Being the good-hearted person he was, Bucky always felt responsible for you. Even when he was the Winter Soldier. That's how the spark between you kindled. His instincts to protect you and care for you took a big part of him. And that made you fall deeper in love with him.

But you loved him just as much, if not more. You wanted to protect him from the hell you went through. Because he didn't deserve it. None of it.

The bigger burden of today wasn't the possibility of falling back into your old selves. It was the possibility of losing your partner to Hydra and watching them lose themselves once again.

You both came in with one goal. Protect each other to death.

And you succeeded. You were fine.

Bucky looked at you with love pouring out of his eyes. Bucky didn't understand how, after so much evil, he was still able to feel such strong emotions of love and adoration. But you melted him and lived in his heart. You were printed on his soul.

He nodded with a smile. You were okay. He leaned in and kissed you. It was a slow and gentle kiss. A reminder that you were both still yourselves. You were free. You were okay.

"Let's go home." You spoke once the kiss broke.

Home. Bucky was going home to the city he grew up in. He was going home to a place he had chosen to live. He was going home, where he would take a shower and lay on a comfortable bed. Bucky was going with his wife. Bucky was going to hold on as you both got rid of the remains of tonight. Bucky was going to hold you as you both drifted to sleep, dreaming of your future together.

Hydra didn't win. You were okay.

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angelzai · 4 months

Text

bitch

we do things a different way, it's up to you and it's up to me, i'm your bitch, you're my bitch . . . !

NSFW CONTENT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 3k

cw: dom!atsushi, gn!afab!+ada!reader, dazai being an asshole, established relationship, teasing, nicknames (darling, pretty, bitch), use of cunt/clit/hole/cock/dick, begging, fingering, penetration, unprotected sex, rough sex, choking, orgasm denial, praise, creampie, cum eating, questionable confessions upon climaxing? FILTH FILTH FILTH

reid: my dazai shrine is more of a dazai and atsushi shrine at this point…oops anyway ENJOY hahaha

. . . .ᐟ

For as much affection as Atsushi holds for his mentor, the bandaged man is also the bane of his existence.

It's apparent in situations like this - ones where Dazai has once again made some sort of good-natured poke at your relationship with Atsushi, and the white-haired boy can't help but cross his arms and try to stay stone-faced while he blushes. The worst part is you always giggle along with his elder.

Not that Atsushi’s particularly embarrassed when it comes to discussing your relationship with your coworkers. Rather, what bothers him is the way Dazai and the others have ran with the narrative that Atsushi’s your loyal cat, you have him under your thumb, you wear the pants, blah, blah, blah.

He blames himself, partially. He let them go so far with the jokes and the teasing and his gentle, docile nature toward others. Everyone seems to assume now that it’s all true. Atsushi just doesn’t know how to dispel these conceptions, no, misconceptions that he alone is your pet, your baby, that he’s submissive to you somehow, without being vulgar or crude.

Because you both know that’s not always true.

But it’s no one else’s business, really. Sure, he brings you your coffee just how you like it every morning, and sure, your first instinct after stressful missions and assignments is to fold him into a hug and let him collect himself in your arms. Sure, you take good care of him and he likes to give that appreciation back. Sure, he picks up your extra paperwork when you’re just too tired.

But today, when Dazai looks up from stirring his coffee to coo and remark, “It’s just so cute that Atsushi’s your little bitch,” it stirs something in your weretiger that he doesn’t find appropriate to express at the table in the café, surrounded by his colleagues.

So he sits there and takes it like he always does. Sure, you never give into prodding at him quite like Dazai encourages you to, but you don’t deny it. You still laugh. Even while you’re pink in the cheeks too, you nudge your lover under the table and will him to play along.

And he does, for the most part. He sends you sheepish smiles while he taps his foot, tries to wipe the flush from his face, even laughs along to mask his irritation.

Until he can get you home and prove them wrong to the only person that really matters - you.

“God, my head’s starting to hurt so bad. Think I looked at the computer for too long today,” Atsushi says a little shakily. It’s true that it was an office-heavy day; whether or not his comment is a cop-out is lost on you.

You turn to him. “I’ll get you some water from the bar and we can head home, sound good? I’m actually pretty tired, too.”

The smile he flashes you is pure as can be. “I would love that, my darling.”

Dazai glances between the both of you as you usher Atsushi out of the booth. Your superior turns to strike up a conversation with Kunikida about how, yeah, his head hurts too! Why do you give us so much work, Ku-ni-ki-da-kun?

The sweet barista slides you a cup of water; you thank her and wave goodbye to your coworkers as the bell above the door sings your departure.

Atsushi tangles his free hand with yours as he sips his water intently. You swing your arms a bit along the slight breeze. “Good thing I just picked up some more tylenol. I knew we were running lo-”

“Dazai annoys the shit out of me sometimes,” your lover interrupts you. You blink a few times. It’s rare for Atsushi to be so forward with such a sentiment. Unless he’s really pissed. Or, unless-

“Yeah, he can be a little much with the teasing,” you agree, looking ahead. “If it’s uncomfortable, Atsu, I’ll tell him to tone it down, and I’m sure he would. He’s a dick, but he’s not that much of a dick.”

“No, it’s not that it’s…” He swallows, withdrawing a bit. “Uncomfortable, I just… don’t understand what’s with the, uh… you know.”

You quirk your head toward him. “The…?”

He groans a little. “The way they all assume I’m your bitch.”

You pause for a moment.

Then, you chuckle a bit. “Oh, that’s what it’s about.”

Atsushi whips his head to glare at you wide-eyed.

“Yeah, it is.”

You’re silent the rest of your walk. You’re silent as you jiggle your key in the lock to your dorm. You’re certainly aware that Atsushi can be dominant when he wants to. He knows you’re aware of this.

“Well,” you muse innocently as you rummage around in one of your kitchen cabinets as he shuts the door abruptly and pulls his shoes off, “I don’t exactly know how to tell them otherwise, Atsu. You wanna tell ‘em what we get up to?” You shake a couple pills into his hand - whether or not the headache was genuine is still beyond you until he backs you toward the counter, slams his meds and empty cup beneath his palms, and cages you into a feverish kiss.

No headache, you conclude. You lock your arms around his neck and smile into him.

There’s nothing humorous, however, in the way he scoops you up by your ass - you yelp because you’re always caught off guard by his effortless strength - and carries you until he can drop you on your back onto your futon.

Atsushi’s warm lips don’t leave yours for a second as he wedges a knee between your legs and presses into you hard without hesitation. Your gasp lets his tongue behind your teeth. Your eyes slip open as his hands work in the space between your hips and your shoulders and you realize he’s serious. He wants them to know the truth.

“Everyone thinks you’ve got me whipped. And they’re right,” Atsushi’s nearly growling into your mouth as he makes quick work of your tie and button up. “But sometimes it seems like you forget-” He captures your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back to stare down at you. “-you’re just as needy for me.”

With that, he starts down your neck.

The kisses he presses there are more of bites - he laps at them, soothing each blooming red patch with his hot tongue. You grab at his hair.

“Gonna let me remind you of that, huh?” His fingers are undoing your belt, and he’s leaning back to look down at you.

Of course, you look gorgeous, nodding obediently as your hands fall back on either side of your head. Atsushi works you out of your pants. Already breathless, you reach for his clothes, too. You really could undo him with the simplest of touches, the softest of looks; he was determined, however, to live up to his words. He was going to remind you.

You barely get his shirt all the way unbuttoned before he’s circling your cunt with two fingers.

You gasp once more.

“So wet.” It’s an observation he makes almost every time; it makes you go red no less.

It’s really a sight, your weretiger so fiery and assertive. You understand why people tend to take him for a softie; they don’t know him like you do, though, and the thought makes you grin as he works you open on his hand. Your hands fly to your mouth as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and looks down at you wildly.

Atsushi’s so pretty with his hair mussed and his abs flexing in anticipation. His fingers sink into you with fervor.

“Atsu,” you croon out as he curls inside you. “Oh, fuck.”

He’s concentrated as he yanks his pants down and off with one hand and stretches you out with the other. His multitasking comes to a halt as his cock hits his stomach - you’re empty again, his fingers leaving you with a pop!

He lets you lean up to push his shirt off his shoulders, but the second you reach for him, he smacks your hands away.

“Nuh-uh. Gonna do it my way,” he tells you, grabbing you by the hips to pull you up and flush against his pelvis - with this, your back hits the futon again, and you’re breathless once more from his manhandling. His eyes are dark, dual-tone sinking like a sunset as he stares down your body like you’re a god.

Your knees have bent on instinct - Atsushi takes one of your ankles and hooks it over his shoulder before pressing his tip against your waiting hole.

You must make a face, because he grins wickedly.

“Already got your eyes rollin’ back and I’m not even in you yet.” It’s his turn to laugh, and his laugh is meant to mock you. Mock your laughing from earlier. Mock Dazai. Mock everyone who thinks you don’t completely belong to him.

He pushes his silver bangs back and grinds his cock against you.

Your hips roll. You can’t help it - there’s a sheen of sweat on Atsushi’s forehead already, and he’s rolling his bottom lip between his teeth again. He looks like an angel. Your other leg wraps around his waist in attempt to pull him closer, to get him inside you, but he just holds you by one thigh, one hip, and keeps grinding into your clit torturously.

“You want it, pretty?”

You nod furiously - he won’t not give it to you. He can’t hold himself back when it comes to you, you’re sure.

“Better say please.”

“Please,” you keen. “Want you to fuck me, please.”

He keeps grinding. He keeps looking down at you. He grips you harder.

“A- Atsu,” you continue. “Please. Please, please, please.”

But he just keeps looking at you.

“I want it, please,” you keep going, keep drawing milky noises from between you both in your pathetic attempt at friction, unsure of what he’s looking for.

Your weretiger’s jaw sets.

Among your frantic humping, you let everything you can think tumble out.

“Please, fuck me, Atsu! Claim me, please. ‘M yours, I’m all yours, I want it, I want it, just fuck me like you own me, please-“

That’s what he’s looking for.

It’s all he needs to plunge into you. He sets a brutal pace and you arch, your whining, moaning, and sobbing underscoring the rhythmic smack, smack, smack! of his hips against yours.

And he fucks you like this for what feels like forever.

Atsushi’s hands alternate between your waist, your nipples, your neck, your ass, your single calf and other hip, your clit, over the next twenty? thirty? minutes. It’s hard to tell how long he drills into you - after the first time he pulls his hand off your twitching clit to put your orgasm off further, time is far beyond your grasp.

He denies you thrice more, laughing through his groans. He’s looking at you in the most condescending way possible through the haze of utter love he feels for you all the time - especially right now - hoping he’s made his point as he tells you no, not yet, so good for me, gotta make sure you know whose you are, one more for me, you’ll cum when I tell you to, pretty.

Something about today must’ve really gotten to him - it’s undoubtedly the longest his patience has spread through his words and commands, some new, some old, some making you clench around him like a virgin.

“You’re cock drunk-” Atsushi pulls a hand off the calf next to his face and licks his fingertips before reaching down to play with you once more. “-every- hah- every time I’m in you. You love this dick.”

“Ah- ah- ah- ‘tsu!” You’re incoherent against his pace - you’re giving him everything you can, really. He’s relentless right now. “Y- yes!”

“That’s fuckin’ right. Hah-” He rubs you hard and fast while he impales you on him. ‘“Wanna hear you say it.”

There’s a tinge of a whine in his command - a tinge that, if he wasn’t fucking you out of your skin right now, would’ve made you smirk. His insistence that he can take control and keep it would’ve usually made you snicker, but right now Atsushi has one hand driving you steadily toward heaven, the other gripping your neck, and his two-toned eyes are burning almost completely violet beneath his creased brow as he awaits your response. All you can give him is strangled breath.

“Nngh- huh- ah!”

It’s like a switch flips for a moment. He circles his hips, trying to let you catch a break to speak, but his grinding against that one spot inside you coupled with his fingers on your pulse in two places barely gives you the chance - you claw into his biceps as he slows to a brief stop. Neither of you know if the whimper you let out is one of relief for a lull or pain at the loss of his thrusts.

You can tell he’s biting at the inside of his cheek before he slides his hand up to your jaw and hunches forward to kiss you fully and sweetly on the lips. The look in his eyes as he pulls back is chaste compared to how he’s still throbbing inside you.

“You okay, pretty?” He traces the shell of your ear with his finger. The flecks of green in his gaze sparkle momentarily. There’s the Atsushi everyone knows and loves.

You let out a final huff and squeeze his arms reassuringly before you answer. “More than okay. Just winded.”

The smile he sends you is alight with nothing but adoration.

Atsushi kisses you again, this time on the forehead where he mumbles a quiet good, and strokes your face. He shifts himself around a little, giving you a second while you mutter about how good he feels, how he should please keep fucking you, how much you want him to make you cum.

When he pulls himself upright again, the flecks of green are lost in the violet once more.

“Now that you got your voice back-“ His fingers still ghost across your cheek, teasing gently toward your lips. He lets out a single sigh, too. “-I said I wanna hear you say it.”

“Fuck it out of me,” you challenge.

Atsushi draws his lips together, shakes his head, and picks back up where he left off, angling as deep as he can reach. He’s entranced by the way your cunt swallows him, soaks him - your words ring in his head as he thumbs at your clit again.

“Say it,” he snarls.

You’re rocking madly against his hand and his cock - you’re close again, he can tell from the way you’re babbling anything but what he’s asking you to, if not from the way you rake your nails down his arms.

“I’ll let you cum when you say it.” Atsushi shakes your leg off his shoulder to push it back against you, along with your other one. “Need you to say it.”

“Love you, Atsu-“ you tease him. “Love you, fuck!”

“Say it!” He cries your name and doubles over, his elbow landing on one side of your head as he pounds you impossibly harder. “Say it, say it, say it, say it, please.”

Finally, you’re able to muster up that smirk. He can’t see it - his face is buried in your neck; he’s watching the way you ripple beneath the tight back-and-forth swipes across your clit.

You’re shaking - you want to hold off for as long as you can, get back at him for denying you so many times, but the feeling is too all-encompassing from the way Atsushi reaches your guts and abuses your clit and breathes into your shoulder that you have to - plus, he asked so nicely! You just have to let him get what he wants.

“I love this dick, Atsu,” you sob. “L- love this dick. Would die for this dick- ngh- Wanna- ah! Ah!”

“Fuck, th- thank you.”

Silver hair falls over your eyes. Atsushi’s hips stutter in time with yours.

A white-hot shimmer rolls over you as your weretiger pushes you over the edge - you thank him back, you tell him you love him, you curl your legs around his hips and swear you go blind for a moment as he fucks his cum into you, wet, warm, squelching.

“Fuck-“ Atsushi’s cursing between your name, “Fuck, you feel so good. So good for me. Fuck! Love you, love you, I love you-“

You feel a few tears in the crook of your neck - you know he was just as desperate as you - and Atsushi doesn’t stop moving until you’re glazed over and squirming numbly, kicking at him with what minimal strength you have left, pulling his face toward yours for a kiss.

His vigor is spent - his other arm supports him as you cup his face, tuck his single long strand of hair behind his ear, and press your panting mouth to his.

The kiss is long and sweet. Atsushi twitches inside you; you feel slick dripping down the curve of your ass toward your sheets, but can’t find it in you to care. You just kiss your man, gently, softly, breathlessly.

Atsushi finally pulls back, sits up on his knees. He dips two fingers in the mixture of cum leaking out of you and licks them clean.

He leans down to kiss you one more time; you taste both of you on his tongue. “Hope you know you’re my bitch just as much as I am yours.”

In all actuality, you scarcely need reminding, but you’ll happily crumble beneath him every time he asks because you love seeing him in the way he was minutes ago - sweaty, disheveled, knuckles white, jaw slack as he pumps you full of his cum and tells you you’re so good for him, you make him feel so good. It’s worth it to know he feels loved and cared for; it’s worth it to know he feels like he can give that back to you.

Even after all that, he’s still grinning wickedly.

Yeah, you’re going another round. Maybe this time you’ll really show him who he belongs to.

#atsushi nakajima x reader #atsushi x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #atsushi smut #angelzai original.ᐟ #devilzai hours.ᐟ #mdni

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badomensbaby · 2 months

Text

so into you. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: luke hemmings, a voice actor you've been working closely with for quite some time, ends up confessing just how into you he really is.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. flirting/flustering, protected smut, degradation, praise kink, slight sir kink, dom/sub undertones, swearing, oral sex (female receiving), mask kink, explicit sexual content.

words: 4,680

a/n: iiiiii cannot express where i came up with this idea. i don't mention explicitly in this fic what video game luke's working on but in my head, it's COD MW3. (i may have a small obsession with ghost. whatever.) but alas, i left this fic alone for like a week and finished it on a whim. enjoy. x

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

Ah, Luke Hemmings, the bane of your existence.

It’s not that you hate him or anything, unless feeling so sick to your stomach because he’s too damn pretty to be working as a voice actor counts as hate, then maybe. But it’s really quite the opposite.

You’ve been working at the video game development studio for almost two years. Your title has changed far too many times, as well as your responsibilities, but you get to see ideas come to life from the loose concept to the console screen so you can’t complain too much.

Right now, you’re in the middle of a contract for a multiplayer war game. It’s a sequel, or a prequel- whatever, it doesn’t really matter. The franchise has been around for ages but they’re always coming up with new content and it’s part of your job to make sure every voice and cgi actor are dressed and ready to perform accordingly.

Even though your manager can be a little overkill, like how he demands any voice actor be in full dress while they’re in the recording booth. It really doesn’t do much for their performance but your manager refuses to listen.

You’re in the middle of skimming through your to-do list for the day. There’s three people who still need to get some lines of dialogue done for the storyline of the video game so it’s your responsibility to make sure they don’t fuck around in the booth all afternoon. First up, and is already late, is none other than Luke.

It doesn’t surprise you. Despite looking like a total diva with his sharp jaw and soft, fluffy blonde curls that seem to be immune to any humidity, always laying so perfectly, he was probably the sweetest guy in the industry you’d ever met. Always polite and charming. Sometimes you think he might be flirting with you but it’s likely he’s just that nice.

A paper cup of branded coffee suddenly invades your vision, blocking your view of the list you’ve been working on all morning. It’s warm and smells like cinnamon, your favorite. Looking up, way way up because he’s impossibly tall, is Luke, with a half-crooked smile and bright blue eyes.

“Mornin’ Miss Y/N,” he says, despite the cheeriness on his face his voice is slightly raspy. You try not to think about it too much. It’s only eight am and you’re stuck listening to Luke in the booth until noon. “Blonde roast with cinnamon. You still drink that, right?”

Skeptically, you take the cup from him. Luke doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest by your hesitance. “Thank you?” It’s meant to be a statement but it slips out as more of a question. “Is this why you’re late, Hemmings?”

A glint of mischief flickers in his eyes. “Why, were you worried about me?”

Your stomach seems to flutter rather easily at his words. Shut up, brain! Luke’s a coworker, stop it. “We’ve only got four hours in the booth and almost fifty lines of dialogue,” You roll your eyes, trying to remain professional. “We need every minute we can get.”

“Fair enough, I’ll go get dressed. Have you got my gear ready?” Luke sips at his own drink and you can smell it from where you stand only a foot away. Chai tea latte with hazelnut. Man has taste.

“Yeah,” You clear your throat, trying to keep your eyes away from the frothy milk of his latte dribbling down the side of his lip. Christ. “Yeah everything’s ready to go. Just get your gear on and meet me in the booth.”

“Aye aye, captain,” The blonde mock-salutes you with a wink, before heading off to his dressing room down the hall. Thankful for the ability to properly breathe again, you quickly shake your head and go inside of the small recording studio and begin to organize the dialogue Luke’s meant to be working on this morning.

It’s almost as if you forget how to operate when Luke steps into the small room. It’s only the two of you today, as the sound technician won’t be in until later but you have a decent grasp on which recorded lines will sound best in the final production.

Luke’s already absurdly tall, well over six feet but with his full gear on he’s pushing halfway to seven feet. With thick combat boots on his feet, and full camo gear covering every inch of his lengthy body. A thick, heavy armor carrier plate is fixed against his chest, and his mask is held loosely in his hand. You force yourself to swallow the thick lump stuck in your throat.

“Can you turn the air on?” Luke asks, oblivious to how you’re struggling to breathe when he looks like that. “M’gonna fuckin’ roast in there if you don’t.”

“Yeah- yeah, sure,” You stumble both verbally and physically, barely managing to catch yourself as you twist behind you to turn the air a little cooler in the small room. It won’t help the flush that’s spreading across every inch of your body. You can’t face him yet, so you pretend like changing the temperature is a little more time consuming than it really is. “You can go ahead whenever.”

The sound booth’s door shuts with a soft click. Your heart’s beating a little hard but at least there’s thick glass separating yourself and Luke now, and once you’re sitting with headphones on you’ll barely be able to see him. God, what a terrible time to remember that stupid masked man fantasy of yours.

Luke does well, as usual, hitting the perfect low pitch for his character that your manager hired him for. He plays the character well, you have to admit, hearing his voice rasped and grovely is almost too much. You lower the volume on the headphones just to spare yourself the embarrassment of getting worked up.

It’s eleven-thirty when he finishes up. Every line of dialogue is near perfect and you’re sure they’ll make production without a hitch, so you have no qualms about turning off the recording light that illuminates the hall outside of the small studio.

You’re in the process of organizing the recorded files for the sound technician to look over when Luke steps out of the booth.

Instead of peeling the mask from his head, he left it on, his gloved hands clasped on the doorframe a few inches above his head. Christ, he looks like he stepped out of a fairly inappropriate fantasy dream you could conjure up after a glass or two of wine. “Even got time to spare.”

You can tell Luke’s smirking beneath the black and white mask, if the glimmer in his baby blue eyes is anything to go by. You just blink, too dumb to come up with anything to say, pulling the headphones to rest around your neck. “Uh- you- you did great.”

“Thanks, Miss Y/N,” his head cocks, helmet almost knocking into the side of the door frame but Luke doesn’t notice. “I love when you compliment me. I know you mean it.”

Your cheeks feel hot. It’s too warm in here, that’s all. Maybe the air isn’t working or something. “I do mean it,” you say softly. “You’re a great voice actor. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”

Luke drops his hands from the door frame, instead leaning against it, his eyes still fixed on you. “You okay over there? You look a bit flushed.”

“M’fine sir- Luke,” You quickly clear your throat, hoping Luke hadn’t caught your stupid slip up. How fucking embarrassing, do you not have a filter? Suddenly a man all dressed up in gear and a mask has you calling him sir? Get a grip!

“Sir?” Luke echoes, his voice syrupy sweet and laced with curiosity. “That’s a new one. Usually all I get from you is Hemmings. I like that, you should call me sir more often.”

You want to look away but it’s impossible. Like a damn car crash, your eyes are fixated on the tall man. It’s fucking sinful how good he looks like that. “It was- it was nothing, don’t read into it.” You deflect.

“Yeah, okay,” Luke says sarcastically, followed up by a slow, dramatic sigh. “It’s a shame, though. Figured you’d finally admit you’re into me so I can stop pining after you in silence.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

A low laugh erupts from Luke’s chest. “Don’t tell me you’re that oblivious, Y/N. I’ve been obsessed with you since day one. Why do you think we’re always working together?”

“My manager said I’m doing well-“

“That was after I gave him season passes to every game the Dodgers play, sweetheart. Told him I won’t work for him unless m’with you.”

Your brows knit in confusion. Has your growth within your position all been at Luke’s doing? You’ve been working with him nearly as long as you’ve been with the company. And suddenly it all makes sense.

Why your manager never seemed to care what you’ve been working so hard for, complimenting you regardless of any efforts shown to him. Why he doesn’t hang around the studio anymore to micromanage your every move.

You stand abruptly. “You asshole!” The words escape without a second thought. “You bribed my manager so you could work with me? That’s- that’s…”

“I thought you’d be flattered,” Luke says, almost somberly but you know he’s anything but. He’s a voice actor for crying out loud, he can make himself sound however he wants, regardless if it’s real. “What’s the big deal anyway? You have almost total freedom and you’re stuck with me all the time. It’s a win-win.”

Whatever attraction you have towards Luke is pushed to the back burner of your mind. Yeah, you have a stupid crush on him but how could he meddle with your job like that? The two of you aren’t even friends, he had no right.

“That wasn’t your decision to make. Who knows now if I’m doing well because of me or because of you? Terry could be spewing bullshit about my performance reviews to keep you happy!”

“You’re being dramatic,” Luke drones lazily. “Of course you’re doing well because of you. All I did was keep us working together, s’not like I fucking paid Terry off to give you a promotion.”

“I don’t know that!” You yell frustratedly, fists balling at your sides. “God- you- take that fucking mask off, would you?”

Luke remains still. “Now why would I do that?” he asks lowly, stepping toward you. Your shoulders draw inward, despite your attempt to keep confident. “Clearly it’s distracting you. Which I think is working in my favor.”

“It’s not.” You mutter weakly.

“Liars aren’t cute,” Luke tuts. “What, does my mask get you all hot and bothered, Miss Y/N? Huh? Because I’m bigger than you? Because I can do anything I want to you and you can’t stop me?”

“Luke-“

“Tell me I’m wrong, Y/N,” his voice impossibly lowers, until it’s a hushed rasp, his chest only a mere few inches from yours. Craning your neck to look up at him easily makes you weak in the knees. You know he’s right and you can’t find the words to tell him otherwise. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Your lip quivers nervously. The words are right there, the lie you could easily spew but it won’t make it off of your tongue. His eyes are too dark to resist, swirls of pretty blue swallowed by his pupils. Blown out and expectant. “You..”

“You can’t, can you? Because you know I’m right,” Luke continues, clearly feeding off of the nerves you’re trying to swallow down. It’s written all over your face, you’re sure of it. Like a book printed in size twenty bold font. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I see the way you look at me. I watch you quiver every time I put my gear on,”

Nothing escapes you except a helpless, trembling whimper. One of Luke’s gloved hands slowly raises to push a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Your eyes are nearly brimming with tears of frustration, of how badly you’re ready to give in to him, of how stupid you feel, wet and desperate between your thighs. It’s the mask, you try to tell yourself, but it’s useless because you know damn well it’s a lie.

It isn’t the mask, rather the person behind it. Luke’s probably the most attractive person you’ve met in a long time, it was inevitable you’d end up crushing on him, but when he’s in full dress you can’t deny there’s something inside of you that seems to light a flame inside of you that’s impossible to put out.

“What is it you like so much, hm?” Luke’s head cocks curiously, his cloudy eyes slowly raking over your body. You can tell he’s smirking beneath the mask at how tightly your hands are balled into fists at your sides, holding yourself back from doing something you shouldn’t. “You know what I think? I think you like giving up control. Obeying. Submitting. And when I’m dressed like this you really have no choice but to listen to me.”

“Luke..” your lips weakly spew the man’s name out. He seems to hum in content, he knows you’re close to giving in. He wants to push you over that line. Cross it with no shame. “I..”

Luke’s gloved hand grasps your jaw, firmly but delicately, so much so that it makes your head feel dizzy. “Speak up,” he demands lowly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I..” You can hardly meet his eyes. It’s pathetic of you, trembling like this and stuttering over yourself. Luke knows it too. “I want.. you.”

“Me?” He echoes, but it sounds a little demeaning the way it falls from his mouth. “You’re not giving me much to work with here, Y/N. Better spit it out.”

“I.. want..” Your eyes threaten to fall shut. You’ve never really been confident when it comes to sex but there’s something about the way Luke’s speaking to you that makes you feel a bit bold. Maybe it’s a leap but fuck, you won’t know unless you try.

With a trembling, hesitant hand, you grasp Luke’s unoccupied wrist, slowly drawing his hand downwards until it’s caressing your clothed core. “You. Please.”

Luke actually whimpers. It could easily be mistaken for a breathy sigh but you’ve been listening to this man’s every vocality for years, you know nearly every noise he can make. “Christ, Y/N,” It’s as if he wasn’t expecting your bold move. “I swear to God I’ll fuck you right here. I will, if you’ll let me.”

“Yeah- yes,” You frantically nod, too dizzy to provide any other words of confirmation. It’s all Luke needs, really, before he’s pressing his hand harder against your damp underwear, warm and inviting, he swears he can almost feel your arousal through his glove. “Luke, please.”

“Yeah, m’gonna take care of you, promise,” Luke releases your jaw, working to strip his gloves from his hands. You almost whimper from the loss of contact but you know what’s coming next is far better than a measly touch outside of your pants. “Gonna be a good girl for me, Y/N?”

You whimper out something along the lines of “yes” that Luke seems to be satisfied with because he’s planting a firm hand on your shoulder and spinning you around, using his grip to shove your body forward until your palms collide with the sound booth’s desk. Careful to avoid pressing any buttons you shouldn’t, you adjust yourself slightly, breaths heavy as Luke shuffles behind you.

You can feel how hard he is through the thick, camo pants he’s wearing, cock strained against the fabric and digging into your backside. Your toes curl inside of your shoes. He feels big. You feel Luke’s fingers tease at the waistband of your jeans. “Can I?”

“Yes- fuck,” You mutter through gritted teeth. There isn’t anything for you to properly hold on to while Luke’s fingers work to unbutton and unzip your jeans, before shimmying them down your hips and the swell of your ass, leaving them pooled just above your knees.

“Don’t have a lot of time, Y/N, Mark’s up next isn’t he?” Luke slowly teases his fingers along the dampened material of your underwear, resulting in the soft arch of your back as your hips move closer to him. “Such a shame. The things I’d do for a taste of that pretty pussy..”

“Luke, can you just-“ You’re filled to the brim with frustration, desperately wet and on the edge of bratty at the amount of time Luke’s wasting. He seems to understand easily, because a hand comes down on your left cheek, leaving a pretty little pink handprint on your skin.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” Luke says around a scoff, sliding your underwear down to join your jeans a little rougher than necessary. “Just for that, m’gonna fuckin’ do it. Don’t care if Mark comes in here to see my tongue deep inside your needy cunt.”

Luke’s words are sent straight to your core, stupidly wet and braindead from how badly you’re soaking the skin between your thighs. You hear the sound of Luke’s knees hitting the carpeted floor, the sound of his mask shuffling and the feeling of his warm breath on your flushed skin.

Luke’s thumbs sink into your flesh easily, spreading you fully for him, your body falling further forward and ass in the air. You know you’re glistening pathetically, all for a hot blonde voice actor in some stupid war gear. “Y/N, you’re fuckin’ drenched. Holy shit,” Luke mumbles in disbelief. “You’re so goddamn pretty.”

You aren’t sure if Luke’s going to continue speaking but it doesn’t matter, his tongue’s busy trailing a fat, long stripe along your heat. Christ, his tongue is so goddamn warm, humming happily against you as he works, alternating between suckling your clit between his teeth and nuzzling his nose against you. Like he just can’t get enough.

Blindly, your hand slips and without either of you being aware, the recording light outside of the small room has been illuminated.

“You taste so fucking good, Y/N. So goddamn good,” He hums again before diving back in, practically fucking his tongue inside of you every which way, like he’s claiming you and drawing his name with every lick. You let out a soft, helpless cry when his teeth graze your clit again. “Could eat your pretty pussy for hours, baby. Wanna spread you out on my bed like a fuckin’ feast.”

“Luke-“ Your voice wobbles, a desperate breath following. You’re so fucking lightheaded it’s insane, all you crave is Luke inside of you. “Luke, please. Please fuck me.”

“Yeah baby, gonna fuck you,” Luke presses a quick, messy kiss against your clit before he pulls back, running his tongue along his lips to gather any excess. You don’t hear him slip the mask back on but you definitely hear his belt unbuckle, along with the fly of his camo pants. “Look at you, what a fuckin’ dream. Bent over and fuckin’ soaked, begging for my cock.”

The sound of Luke tearing a condom packet open with his teeth catches your attention. You hardly have enough strength to look over your shoulder but he’s already rolling the latex over his dick that’s just out of your view. “Where did you get-“ You don’t get to finish your sentence because the words die out in your throat, replaced with a strangled gasp as you feel the head of Luke’s cock slowly trail up your wetness. “Oh, fuck.”

Luke makes a smug, pleased sound before slowly pressing inside of you. And yeah, fuck, he’s definitely bigger than anyone you’ve slept with. Which, honestly, hasn’t been very many people. “Yeah, that’s it,” You hear Luke sigh behind you, hands attaching to your hips as he continues to feed his dick further inside. “Fuck, you’re swallowing my cock up. So desperate for it, aren’t you?”

It’s almost too much. Your eyes pinch shut, teeth sinking into your lower lip to keep the tears at bay. He’s stretching you out so good every inch he sinks inside, until he’s buried to the hilt and stills his hips. “Luke.. fuck, you’re- you’re big.”

You hear Luke chuckle behind you. His fingertips press harder into your hips. “What’s the point of being so cocky if I don’t have anything to show for it?” he says, amused but a little breathless. He’s just as affected by your tight warmth as you are by his sizable dick. “Don’t tell me it’s too much for you, Y/N. You’re a big girl, I know you can take it.”

“Just.. give me a minute?”

“We don’t have enough time, baby,” Luke says soothingly, almost somberly. “I promise you’ll get used to it.”

You intake a sharp, quick breath as Luke withdraws his hips. It’s definitely too big. There’s no way you’ll be able to fuck anyone ever again without remembering how full Luke made you feel.

Then Luke snaps his hips forward and the tears you were desperately trying to hold back fall freely down your cheeks. A borderline scream falls from your mouth and you tighten around his dick, only drawing a groan deep from Luke’s throat as he begins thrusting in a steady, needy rhythm.

So quick and forceful that the sound of his hips snapping against your backside echoes the sound room. So desperate that your body falls forward, chest splayed against the desk and Luke’s carrier plate wedged into your back, his masked breaths deep and warm on your neck. You cry out from the new angle, hitting that perfect spot inside of you. “Oh fuck- Luke- god- right there, fuck-“

“Yeah?” Luke asks in a low moan, digging his blunt fingernails into your waist as his thrusts grow more determined and quick, your body rucking upwards from his forceful movements. All you can do is wail and whine against the desk helplessly. “God, Y/N, you feel so good wrapped around my cock. Lettin’ me fuck you, such a good girl.”

Your position is definitely uncomfortable but you’re too cockdrunk to even care. You know you’ll cum soon, especially when Luke’s fucking you at such a brutal pace there’s a tingling that’s spreading from your toes all the way to your spine. You clench around Luke’s cock, only soaking your thighs further as more arousal coats his covered length.

“Baby, fuck,” Luke’s voice is strained, one hand detaching from your hip to grab at your hair, fisting the strands between his fingers, craning your neck upwards until his masked mouth settles near your ear. “You’re fuckin’ soakin’ my cock, Y/N. Wonder what Mark would think if he found me buried in this sweet little pussy, huh? Think he’d be jealous? Of how desperate you are for me?”

“Oh my god-“ You know it’s coming, your legs feel like static and your head is spinning. Your vision’s beginning to blur as the beginning of your orgasm starts to crash over you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Luke-“

“Call me sir,” He’s fucking relentless, pounding into you like he’s got something to prove. It’s messy and slippery and wet, echoing the small room. “Call me sir and you can cum, Y/N.”

“Oh sir, oh my god sir-“

“Come on baby, that’s it, cum all over my cock,” Luke coaxes you, breathing warmly against the skin of your neck. Your nails scratch desperately on the desk as you finally let go, letting out a long string of pleading moans as you finish, clenching tightly around him. “Oh christ- Y/N- yeah, that’s my good girl.”

“Oh my god..” Luke doesn’t stop even after you’ve finished, snapping his hips more forcefully than before.

“Fuck, gonna cum,” Luke pants out. “Wanna cum all over your pretty face. Can I? Please baby, want it so bad.”

“Ye-yeah,” You half mumble, half moan.

Your body’s in Luke’s hands as he quickly slips out of you, discarding the condom and wrapping a hand around himself, helping you slink back until you’re on your knees. Confused, you’re unable to question why you’re facing the wrong way until Luke’s hand is on your jaw and tilting your head backwards.

And that’s a fucking view. It’s upside down, Luke’s masked face staring down at you as his hand works furiously over his leaking, hard cock, groaning and panting. “Fuck, open your mouth.”

You comply, happily letting your tongue fall flat over your lower lip, eyelashes fluttering until you hear a low, guttural groan from Luke’s throat, painting your cheeks and lips and eyelashes in pretty ropes of milky white.

“Ohhh fuck,” Luke’s strokes slow, milking himself until every last drop is coating some part of your face. “Fuck Y/N… you look so goddamn pretty covered in my cum.”

What doesn’t stay on your face ends up dribbling onto your t-shirt. You don’t really care at the moment, fucked dumb as you curiously swipe your tongue along anywhere you can reach to taste Luke’s release. You let out a soft, pleased and rasped, “Thank you, sir.”

Luke finds some tissues to clean you up, helping you slide your underwear and jeans back on. Once you’ve regained your breath, and began the short trip back to reality, you feel your cheeks grow stupidly hot. Luke slips his mask off.

“Where the hell is Mark?” he asks curiously.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” You ask in a soft voice. You really want to ask what this means, the two of you hooking up like this. Was he actually into you or using that as an excuse to get in your pants?

“He’s like thirty minutes late,” Luke shrugs, running a hand through his flattened curls. “Why? What’re you worried about?”

Your mouth clasps shut. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” You turn away, busying yourself with the paperwork you’d brought inside with you. “I have more recording sessions to do. And you probably have somewhere to be.”

“Y/N..” Luke frowns.

“What?” You snap unintentionally, turning to face Luke with narrowed eyes. “What, Luke?”

“This wasn’t like..” he trails off, looking a bit nervous. It almost makes you feel bad for snapping at him like that. “A one-time thing for me, Y/N. I.. I’m into you.”

“Really?” You ask softly. “You’re not just saying that because I let you.. fuck me?”

“No,” Luke slips out a short chuckle, stepping towards you. “No, I told you m’obsessed with you. This only makes it worse. You’re not getting rid of me.”

“We can talk about this after my recording sessions, alright Hemmings?” Your lips lift into a soft, almost shy smile. Luke does the same, his eyes hopeful.

“Maybe over dinner?” He asks.

“Pick me up at six.” You counter.

Luke dips to press a soft kiss against your cheek. “Text me your address. I’ll go figure out where Mark is and kick his ass for being late.”

You roll your eyes. “If he would’ve been on time that wouldn’t have ended well for both of us, Hemmings,” Luke’s halfway out the door, pausing and turning to you with a sly grin. “What? What is it?”

“Someone left the recording light on. No wonder Mark didn’t bother,” Luke chuckles, amused. “Hey.. I wonder what else we did by accident..” His eyes flicker towards the sound table’s knobs and buttons, your own widening in fear. Which switches were off before? You hadn’t paid attention to anything when your chest was pressed against it. Fuck, what if you-

You turn to reprimand Luke for putting that thought into your head but he’s gone. Before you text Mark, letting him know that you’re available to record, you double check the recording logs for anything out of the ordinary. With pink cheeks, you text Luke your address and a vague note.

you: [123 Main St]

you: also.. seems we might’ve had an accident.

you: file.mp3

#5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos smut #5sos x reader #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x you

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mixtape-racha · 8 months

Text

looks like we made it | choi yeonjun

maybe being maid of honor at your best friend's wedding, opposite your college ex, had its perks after all... // minors dni, 18+

warnings: exes to lovers, best man!yeonjun x maid of honor!reader, built up tension // words: 3.84k

a/n: sorry in advance, but i took out the smut section because it didn't feel like it fit with the direction the fic took. but regardless, i hope you enjoy!

you giggled again as your best friend, eui, pulled you from the passenger side of her car - seemingly desperate to get you up to her apartment.

“eui, what’s going on? why are you in such a rush?” the smile of your face was etched permanently, like it always was when you were around eui. the two of you had been friends since you were merely five years old, and had remained inseparable ever since.

she didn’t respond though, her laughs growing as she covered your eyes once you were outside her front door. through all of your protests, she shushed you and carefully led you inside - based on the direction she steered you in, you had assumed into her living room.

she had been secretive and kind of strange all day, the conversation never flowing into why she so urgently needed to hang out with you at all. it was definitely suspicious, but with eui you could never expect what was coming. it could be the most mundane thing ever, for all you knew.

oh, but how wrong you were.

when she finally removed her palms from your eyes, you blinked as you adjusted to the light. looking around, there were loads of pink balloons and decorations. was she pregnant? no, no she would’ve told you sooner so that couldn’t be it.

“surprise!” she cried, holding up a cake with your name iced on the top. but… what else was etched in the pale pink icing?

will you be my maid of honor?

once the words had registered in your brain, you squealed, tears springing to your eyes. you pulled her into a massive hug, both bouncing on the balls of your feet in excitement.

“of course i will! oh my god, eui, this is huge!”

the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon pampering yourselves over a bottle of red wine and face masks, with the twilight movies playing peacefully in the background. her fiance was away for the weekend, so you had all the time in the world to relax with your soul twin. really, you had both been dreaming of days like these since you were preteens hooked on the idea of marrying your celebrity crushes, and now here you were - merely months away from watching your closest friend in the world walk down the aisle.

you gossiped a little, getting tea about how eui’s own mother was arguing with her fiance’s mother about the theme of the wedding, and silly things like the color scheme and the cake. you had met soobin many times, and he was very open about how argumentative his mother could be. especially when it came to her children - she wanted nothing less than the best for them, no matter what it took. somehow, he didn’t share his mother’s need for the finest things, often opting to take the easy route instead. for “simplicity and comfort reigned over expensive and difficult”, he often said.

“you wouldn’t believe how he asked yeonjun to be his best man, though,” eui huffed with a roll of her eyes. “he literally asked him on speakerphone in the car. like… where is the spice? the flavor? the speciality?”

you laughed along, sharing her confusion, but one thing stuck out in the forefront of your mind. choi yeonjun. soobin’s best friend, and the bane of your existence.

you and yeonjun had dated throughout your sophomore and junior years in college, and everyone had thought you were soulmates - you were voted first to get married, first to start a family, most likely to grow old together by all of your friends.

but right at the beginning of senior year, something changed. he became more distant, more distracted. you barely saw each other, and when you did, all you would do is eat a burger or nap together. it was exhausting to feel like you weren’t enough anymore, and so you left. but what hurt the most is that he didn’t try to stop you from leaving, and he was in a new - very shown-off - relationship merely a month later.

sure, the two of you were civil now you had graduated and moved on with your lives, but that didn’t stop the little bitter feeling you got deep in your stomach every time you saw him. and now - god, you’d have to see each other so often. you’d have to share so many responsibilities and tasks. eui and soobin were lucky you loved them so much to be able to deal with it.

not long after eui had actually asked you to be such an integral part in her wedding party, yeonjun had reached out to you. he offered to take you out for lunch the following week so you could discuss your respective hen and stag parties - of course, that was his biggest concern right now. but respectfully, you agreed, and arranged to meet him at a diner on the outskirts of town the following thursday. you only had 5 months until the wedding, so it was better to start organizing these things as soon as possible.

by the time thursday finally rolled around, you had forgotten about your plans to meet with yeonjun until he texted you while you were 6 episodes deep into a pretty little liars marathon. stressed and half asleep, you rushed around to grab anything you needed and put on clothes - there was no way you were meeting him in pajama’s.

he was waiting outside your apartment building, having kindly offered to drive you to the diner and back as your car was in the garage getting repairs. when you finally got outside, he was waiting leant against his car, scrolling through his phone. for a second you were transported back to college, seeing a younger yeonjun waiting to pick you up for a date. it felt strange, and you shrugged off the feeling as you approached him.

“hey, you.” you smiled, pulling his attention from his phone and alerting him of your presence. he smiled widely, holding his arms out for a brief hug, which for some unknown reason you accepted.

“hey, yourself. how’ve you been?” he asked as you pulled away and got into the car, the stress of adult life evident on both of your faces.

you made small talk during the drive to the diner, and it was surprisingly comfortable. you forgot how well you and yeonjun truly got along, whether as friends or as partners, and already you knew you were going to enjoy having him back in your life like this.

once in the diner, you both ordered milkshakes and a side of fries to share as you discussed your respective plans for the hen and stag parties, and what was off-limits for the others to do.

“honestly, just no strippers. i know its common sense, but its a respect thing. eui wouldn’t appreciate it, and honestly, i don’t think soobin would enjoy it anymore.” you giggled, watching as yeonjun intently took notes on what you were saying. he was almost as serious as you were, rocking up with ruled notepads and an abundance of different coloured pens.

“no, i agree. i think bin would be offended if i even tried it. i was thinking about taking some guys away on a camping trip for a weekend. bin’s turned into such an old man - i was thinking he’d enjoy just a few guys going fishing. what are you thinkin for the hen party?”

you smiled softly, appreciating how much effort he was willing to put in for his best friend.

“eui’s mentioned a few times wanting to do a spa getaway - so realistically, we could plan you guys going camping and us going to a spa resort for the same weekend. i was thinking maybe the weekend before the wedding if that works for your ideas?”

yeonjun hummed before replying. “i think that makes sense. if the wedding is a tuesday, we all leave on the friday and then come back on the sunday evening. then monday, i know soobin’s very traditional, so the bridal party and groomsmen for the ceremony can stay separately to prepare for tuesday.”

deep down, you were shocked at how seriously he was taking it, but hastily agreed.

you stayed a while longer, discussing various plans over your fries, and just generally catching up before he drove you home, pulling you into another hug to say goodbye for now. it was nice, you truly loved having him around.

unfortunately, you didn’t see him again for a couple of weeks.

eui and soobin had invited you over for dinner, and you realized when you got out of your uber that yeonjun was there, too - you spotted his car outside and, regretfully, your stomach fluttered. it was just a casual dinner with some friends in their apartment, but suddenly you felt underdressed in your work shirt and jeans. god, did you even remember to put a bottle of body spray in your bag this morning? why was the thought of yeonjun’s presence making you so stressed?

with a sigh, you trudged into the building, catching the elevator up to the fifth floor. you could call apartment 505 your second home by now; spending all your free time there before eui had soobin move in, and still spending every friday night and occasionally a saturday morning there too. you were lucky that eui had found such an understanding fiance, one who adored you like you were his best friend from the start, and even going as far as to introduce you as his sister-in-law now.

knocking on the door, you heard a yell from inside before feet padded towards the door, and it swung open to reveal a pouty eui. she had her arms crossed over her chest, and from the living room you could hear insanely loud laughter from the two men inhabiting the room.

“what did they do now?” you teased, placing your bag and shoes down as she let you in.

“they keep cheating at uno!” she cried, genuine anguish in her voice. “they’re teaming up against me, (y/n)! its so unfair!”

“choi soobin!” you called out in feigned disgust as you entered the living room, very casually taking a seat next to yeonjun, who was sat on the opposite sofa to soobin - and now eui. “i can’t believe you’d betray your future wife like this! i might have to whisk her away if you carry on.”

yeonjun cackled next to you, and just as quickly as the feeling arose, your anxiety about seeing him disappeared.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“ladies and gentleman, i give you– the bride and groom!”

as the first notes of unchained melody by the righteous brothers played through the speakers, a warm smile grew on your face. just being here to watch your best friend marry the love of her life was phenomenal.

you looked across the head table you were seated at, and caught eyes with yeonjun - was he already looking at you? you didn’t have time to process the thought before he smiled, eyes all crinkly and tear-filled, and raising his glass slightly in a toast to you both.

yeah. you’d done well. the wedding had run so smoothly, because no one could even consider acting up before you or yeonjun put a stop to it. you were just grateful you didn’t have to “accidentally” spill red wine on a guest who had shown up wearing white - your biggest worry averted, as everyone in invitation took the dress code very seriously.

over the past few months, yeonjun and yourself had grown extremely close again, and you couldn’t be happier. it felt nice, having him around. like a breath of fresh air that you hadn’t experienced since you graduated, and he truly brought out the best in you. all throughout the respective hen and stag weekends, you hadn’t stopped checking in with one another, to the point where one of your other friends took your phone, thinking you were drunk texting an ex.

you supposed that really, you were. it pained you to admit, but after spending so much time with yeonjun over the past few months, an itch had grown that you couldn’t quite scratch. you swore you’d tried everything - a trust vibrator, a dating app, even a blind date set up by eui - but nothing worked. it felt like every time he was around you, your soul yearned from yeonjun and your skin lit itself on fire.

you just had no idea that he was seated across the table from you, facing the exact same dilemma. he always thought he was over you - that you were both mature adults now, and you could be friends without your past affecting you. but even from that very first hug before you went to the diner together, you’d been playing on his mind like a looped track. you looked good - that much he could never deny. and sure, he would always hold you to a high standard because you were his first love, but this was deeper than that. no one else could even compare, not anymore. he wanted you so bad - not sure whether he just needed a fuck, or he truly missed you deep in his soul, but he wanted to find out.

as the evening progressed, you couldn’t help but let your mind and eyes wander to the man who seemed to be constantly on your mind. during wedding planning, you always seemed to be paired together - not that you minded - and that resulting in the pair of you hanging out regularly by yourselves. movie nights, games nights with eui and soobin, trips to the diner, even accompanying one another on their weekly food shop when you bumped into each other in the supermarket. no matter how hard you tried to fight it, the universe was pushing you together and you weren’t sure how much resolve you had left. the last thing you needed was the kiss him, just for him to reject you, and feel like that 21-year-old heartbroken college student all over again. well, that was until one of soobin and yeonjun’s old college friends asked you to dance, which you happily agreed to.

the second yeonjun looked up from his conversation with eui’s young sister and looked eyes on you dancing with serim, his blood felt like it was boiling. his friend was looking at you with literal hearts in his eyes, who did he think he was? you were yeonju– well, you weren’t yeonjun’s. but the point was why the fuck did serim think he could flirt so hard as he spun you around on the dancefloor? especially right in front of where yeonjun was sitting? had he not been obvious enough? he spoke about you all the time to his friends, they had to know his returning feelings for you by now.

you, on the other hand, were more than happy in your predicament of dancing with serim. when the boy approached you, you vividly remembered him from college. most of all, you remembered how kind he was to you, even after you and yeonjun had broken up. so when he so politely asked you to dance, how could you say no? you already thought serim was lovely, and there was no harm in dancing with a handsome man. worst case scenario, he was boring. best case scenario, it helped you get over your unreciprocated feelings for yeonjun. you danced with him for a while, chatting away the whole time, until you had to excuse yourself to give your heeled feet a break and get a drink.

once you reached the bar, massaging your aching calves, you smiled as you ordered your drink. a vodka cranberry - something you’d discovered during your freshers week of college, and swore by ever since. you reached into your clutch to get your bank card, but a hand reached out and swiped their card across the reader before you could.

“serim, i appreciate it, but–”

“its been half an hour an you’ve already forgotten what i look like?” your protests were cut off as you looked up and met eyes with a smiling yeonjun, which caused a grin to spread across your face.

“course not, jjunie. just thought you were a little caught up being the future husband of every child here.” you giggled, referencing the way all the young girls at the wedding had fallen from him and approached one at a time, shyly asking if he’d marry them.

yeonjun was amazing with kids, that much you knew, and it warmed your heart watching the way he interacted with them, and told them that they’d find their own prince charming one day, because uncle jjunie couldn’t marry them.

“good,” he grinned, pushing your drink towards you as it was served. “don’t want you abandoning me for serim, now, do i?”

you sighed at that, taking a sip of your drink as yeonjun looked at you confused. upon further prompting, you opened up and spoke to him about your short experience with the boy in question.

“i just… i don’t know, jjun. he asked me out. and like, yeah, he’s sweet and all, but i don’t want to feel like i’m leading him on, you know?”

yeonjun looked perplexed at your words, but stayed quiet. he knew you well enough to know you would have more to say, and you looked away as you continued. you didn’t know what, but something about his gaze felt a lot more intense now.

“i’m not looking for dating or a relationship. well, i mean– i guess i am, but only with someone specific. unless i get over them, its not fair to try and pursue things with anyone else.”

he stayed quiet, still, and you looked over to see him staring at you with something unrecognizable in his eyes. you wondered for a second if you’d said something to upset him - never wanting that to be the outcome of any of your interactions. maybe he was worried serim’s heart would be broken if you rejected his advances? yeonjun was always very protective of his friends, everyone who knew him could attest to that. but the way he was looking at you was like he was trying to read your every inner thought, so you couldn’t be sure.

“fuck it… (y/n) can i talk to you outside?”

you were a little surprised by the bluntness of his words, but silently agreed, following as he headed to the empty hallway outside the room of the hotel that the reception was being hosted in. the second you exited, the loudly blaring music turned to a soft thudding bass, and so for that alone you were thankful.

yeonjun paced quietly for a moment, while you leant against the wall, taking off your heels to give your aching feet a break. you wished you put a pair of flats in your purse-bag, standing barefoot in a hotel corridor felt wrong on so many levels.

“jjun, what’s wrong? you know you can tell me anything, right?” you said softly after a few minutes of silence, genuinely worried for the taller boy in front of you. your words shook him from his trance and he stopped his endless pacing, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look at you.

his head was swirling, and he felt like he was spinning out of control. what if you rejected him? worse, what if you called him disgusting, or got mad that your recent proximity made him think that you could try again? what if you told eui and soobin that he’d made you uncomfortable, and he lost them, too? he knew if was silly to worry the way he was, but you looked so perfect in your bridesmaid dress and he was riddled with feelings of inadequacy. maybe serim would be better for you after all. serim had never broken your heart. serim had never acted like you didn;t exist to protect his own heart. serim would never do that to you, not like he had.

but at the same time, he knew he wasn’t that person anymore. he knew he was good enough. he knew he could be anything and everything you asked for. he could picture you walking towards him in a wedding dress, and he wanted that. he wanted all of it with you, and it had taken him one too many years to realize it.

he sighed heavily, a sound that you hadn’t heard leave his lips in many years. your heart thudded in your chest, not knowing what to expect - but preparing yourself for the worst. not that you knew what the worst would be, but you had to prepare either way.

however, what you weren’t expecting was for yeonjun to bare his heart to you - eyes wide and shining as he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. your heart skipped a heat with his every word. you didn’t even respond until you were 100% sure he had finished what he needed to say.

“i just– i’m so, so head over heels for you. when soobin told me you were eui’s maid of honour, i was worried. not for seeing you, but i wasn’t sure you’d want to do this with me after i broke you heart. and i did. i know i did. i was stupid, and i let go the best thing that ever happened to me, and i’m so ashamed it took me this long for me to figure it out.

then i saw you dancing with serim, and it was like everything i’ve been trying to repress these past few months came bubbling back up to the surface. i never truly got over you, but i was always ready to cheer you on and support you with whatever and whoever made you happy - until it happened. the idea of serim being the one to treat you right, or dance with you at a wedding, or hold you hand and buy your drinks for you - it made me honestly feel sick.

you don’t have to accept this, i don’t want you to accept because you feel like you have to. i’ll support you on whatever path you take, but i couldn’t waste another second not telling you - especially when everyone here can see what a catch you are.”

you didn’t know what flipped harder - your stomach or your heart. he truly wanted you? it was like a curse and a miracle warped into one. a miracle, because you never would’ve thought the stress of hiding your feelings this past few months was affecting him too. a curse, because you knew you were falling in the deep end again. it was yeonjun. it would always be yeonjun, and you knew that even in the deepest parts of your soul.

through watery eyes and a skip in your chest, you smiled at him, using everything in you to stop the tears from falling.

“jjunie, i love you. i always have, and i always will.”

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