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codtrashsammy · 3 days

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Cute Meet?

Started as a kinda character study and idk what happened, i'ma be honest. I haven't written anything with length in awhile, so feel free to leave cc and let me know what you think <3 Just a cute meet kinda scenario, reader is an anxious lil thing and Simon 'Ghost' Riley is obsessed upon first glance. Love? No, not yet.. but obsessed, yes. Word Count: 1.3K Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader/You Warnings: No warnings, no use of y/n tho Enjoy :))

Ghost is the keeper. Ghost is stoic, cold, even apathetic. Ghost can kill a whole platoon without batting an eye, can be covered in the blood of his enemies and be entirely uncaring to watch it flow down the drain once he has enough time to scrub the caked blood from where it seeped through his clothes. He is in charge, able to control his emotions effortlessly, able to lead. He is everything he needs to be. And then there’s Simon. Ghost is the keeper. Simon is the man beneath the mask who needs one. Simon is more akin to a stray dog than a human at times. Face hidden from the world, yet teeth always barred and ready to bite. Hidden behind a mask, a carefully crafted mask that is Ghost. A man with more scars than flesh, a man with more trauma than peace, a man who simply longs for the normalcy of life without a way to reach it. And then came you.

Ghost couldn’t care less for you. The mask is on as he’s on leave, shopping in a grocery store to get something to eat on while he stays in that damned motel for the next couple of weeks before flying out once more. The mask stays in place, a protection, a show the keeper is in charge. You don’t mean to run into him, you’re definitely not the type to go looking for trouble- you’ve had enough of that in your life, and you’re just starting to get your shit together for the nth time. But as you’re both leaving, you stumble, bumping right into him and leaving a couple of his poor bags strewn about on the sidewalk rather than carefully held within each hand. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Ghost grumbles with a sigh, clearly not pleased by the circumstances while watching a can of beans he had bought simply roll off of the sidewalk area and into the road- promptly ran over by a vehicle looking to park. No beans and toast now, british man. “I am so sorry-” You immediately apologize, the sheepish and embarrassed look on your face obvious as you dust yourself off and try to begin gathering the mess that you had caused. Ghost is annoyed at you. Just one look and he’s annoyed. But Simon? Simon is enchanted. The sweet, sheepish smile on your face, the way you scramble to help, the heat to your cheeks in your embarrassment as you scatter around trying to fix the situation. The way your hair falls and how you’re clearly nervous, but you still act anyway. You don’t care of how he looks- all brooding and intimidating with his hoodie over his head and the black medical mask over the lower half of his face. You couldn’t care less of that- you simply want to make things better. Simon notices that though. Simon remains frozen for a few moments, hidden interest in his eyes as he watches you scramble about, resorting your things just to have an extra couple of bags for his things. And you just hand things back over to him, the sheepish smile still on your face, the embarrassment clear- but gods, you look like such a sweet lil thing, lookin’ at him like he’s a human, a person. “‘S fine,” Simon eventually spits out, taking the bags from your hands and glancing once more at the beans staining the roadway now, before turning to focus his attention back on you. He could let you leave now. He could, it’d be so easy. He could leave it at that and walk away, probably never hear or see from you again. I mean, hell, he’s only known you for all of 5 minutes, and it’s because you’re a clumsy little shit who fucked up his shopping. It’d be so easy so why does it feel so hard. “D’ya always ‘ave to make such an impression?” Simon quips out, readjusting the bags comfortably in his grip. You can’t even pretend not to notice his accent- it’s unusual for where you live, you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything like it outside of the media you’ve consumed. It’s pleasant, rings around in the ears for a bit. You finally meet his eyes, and gods, they are gorgeous. Deep, rich, brown- like chocolate with golden flecks scattered. Especially in the sunlight- like they are now- pools of liquid gold swimming about a chocolate river. “Ah- No- Um-” You struggle to find the right words, now your cheeks are warmer, and it’s less from embarrassment and more from the pretty eyed stranger you just fucking throttled on accident. But at least he doesn’t seem angry, so there’s always that. “I’m so sorry,” You settle on apologizing again, one of your hands moving to nervously run through your hair, pushing some strands out of your face. “‘S fine. Really.” Simon says with a slight nod, and you can feel the burn of his eyes as they trail over you. You can’t decide if he means it or not, though, he sounds oddly monotone for such simple words. “Still, I feel bad, I uh- I’m kinda clumsy at best,” You blurt out, sheepish smile on your face despite its softness as you glance away from him before looking back once more, “I uh- just wasn’t paying much attention to where I was going- a real bad habit of mine, honestly- which is surprising cause you’re kinda huge and hard to miss-”

What the fuck did you just say?!Your cheeks heat up further, hands moving to gesture with your words now. You’re rambling, you know you are, but god did not give you the ability to shut the fuck up. “N-Not that that’s a bad thing! You’re uh- very well-built!” what the fuck you’re making it worse- “I-I mean- You uh- You have lots of muscle a-and that’s a good thing! And you have pretty eyes- always a bonus!” Simon’s eyebrow slowly lifts, his eyes crinkling at the sides. Simon’s been called a lot of things in his life- but he’s realizing at this moment that no one has ever called his eyes pretty. They’re brown. He can recall Johnny referring to them as ‘shit brown’ more often than not. And you just look so fucking adorable- continuing to ramble, but he’s hardly paying attention to the words now, watching your cheeks get darker, your hands gesturing with your words, nervously shifting on your feet as you try to ‘save’ the situation. Such a precious lil thing, too pure for this world.

Simon was enchanted at first glance.

Ghost decides he could be, too.

A pretty thing like you? In this world? Oh, love, that’s just not safe. You’re a lil bundle of nervous, clearly. How’d ya make it this far? Who made ya like this? Unsure, rambling, nervous? Ghost wants to learn you. Wants to figure out what events molded you into this cute lil thing. You clearly need someone- he won’t judge, Simon needs him, too.

Ghost decides he wants to know you. Simon has made that thought known.

“You know what? I’m gonna shut up!” You finally say, voice a higher pitch and the heat being felt in the tips of your ears at this point as you take a step away from the masked man, who you know you’ve done ruined the chance to know with your inability to shut the fuck up.

“Tell me yer name before ya do,” Simon says, voice smooth like it’s the easiest and most casual thing in the world.

He’s so… quiet. He let you ramble and make an absolute fool of yourself- but now he’s actually wanting to know your name?

After you manage to knock yourself out of your stupor, you finally offer your name to him, cheeks finally cooling down a bit. Only to heat back up once he repeats your name in that voice of his, all low and gruff- says it differently than anything you’ve ever heard before- like it’s something important, something that matters.

“Simon,” He supplies, adjusting his bags in one grip as he offers a hand to you.

Simon and Ghost are two very different people who share this skin suit.

But they both decide you’re theirs.

#simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you

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ominouspuff · 2 days

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No Man Left Behind / Something Worth Dying For

REQUESTS / BLOG EVENT

Request from @razzbberry - Palette #1 - Alpha-17, Cody - Death of the Cynic in Me

Notes and close-ups beneath the cut!

Notes: I think Seventeen would, both subconsciously and consciously, keep his cynicism as long as possible. It’s how he thinks the world works, but it’s also a survival tool. It’d be a very, very slow death.

It’s put to the test with Cody — not because Cody is special among his fellow clones, but because he’s one of the first that bothers to fight Seventeen on his own terms. The argument is always the same. Cody wants to talk about what he hopes to be, someday, after he is a soldier. Seventeen thinks he’s stupid to think that’s possible, or that he’d be capable. Cody knows it, and he, might not be. Seventeen thinks it’s even more stupid, in that case; what a waste of energy.

It develops. When they’re older, and in the thick of war, one day Cody risks his life for the chance to save a brother that was going to die anyway. Seventeen yells at him for fifteen minutes once he’s conscious about luck and stupidity and the trouble it’s causing Seventeen and the false hope it’s engendering in others. Cody says he can disagree all he likes, but he doesn’t give a fig, respectfully. Seventeen thinks Cody can go try to get blown up again, if he thinks so.

There’s no point fighting for a better tomorrow; they’re bought and paid for to fight for something else, FOR someone else. Seventeen is prepared for being fodder, as a result. He’s prepared for unfairness and the bleak life that they’re living. Instead he watches as Cody defeats odds time and time again, somehow managing to balance being an exceptional military leader with a secondary war to live for something more, running himself ragged and — inexplicably — gaining ground. Each of those little victories are a little death for Seventeen’s cynicism; a chipping away. A little seed of Cody’s brand of hope takes root, awkward and begrudging, fond and tentative.

Then Order 66 happens. Cody’s efforts for a better life are in vain, and Cody himself-

Cody may never know that Seventeen was right abut just how helpless they were. Now he only knows that Seventeen is a traitor, apparently, because Seventeen — for once in his life — was the lucky one and his chip malfunctioned.

And Seventeen could say ‘I told you so’. He could rest, vindicated and resigned, in the fact that every dream Cody built up and everything he thought was worth dying for is pointless, now — as he always suspected it would be.

But it isn’t fair, even by Seventeen’s standards.

“What are you doing,” Rex will rasp, caught in a strange role reversal as Seventeen paints an armor set with Cody’s golden colors. “He’s not coming back, Seventeen. He can’t. It’s pointless to keep going after him, you need to stop.”

“No,” Seventeen will answer, unbothered, “I don’t think I will.”

“We can’t — we can’t keep hoping,” Rex says, because he means he will probably have a breakdown if he imagines there is even a pitiful possibility he could save his brothers and then have to turn away from that scrappy chance for the greater good and Rebellion, and all that. “We’ve got to move on.”

“Go on.” Seventeen will invite sincerely, one brow raised because he knows Rex better than that.

“Do you want him to shoot you?” Rex will finally yell, all knotted up at the thought of losing Seventeen too, even though it’s funny because Seventeen was never kind to Rex.

“He can try,” Seventeen will say, touching up the last of the paint. He will stand, wiping his fingers, and pick up his pack. “See you when we get back, then.”

Alt version:

#artists on tumblr #fan art #star wars fanart #star wars: the clone wars #commander cody #alpha 17 #Interactive Art Week March 2024 #Palette Challenge #Alpha-17: Life sucks and it always does you dirty #Alpha-17 @ Order-66: …Well that was just UNNECCESSARY #Kinda offended kinda inspired to pitch in and maybe die just like normal but this time with Personal Investment #Normal people: I came for you [relieving/sounds like a promise of loyalty and dedication]#Alpha-17: I came for you [Grim Reaper Vibes]#It’s just his attitude but he means it well

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cutielando · 6 hours

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mr. and mrs. ~ oscar piastri

Summary: Wedding of the year is finally here between the two favorite youngsters on the grid. Everyone is invited!

Words: 1.3k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

Oscar and Y/N.

Y/N and Oscar.

Everyone knew them, everyone loved them.

Ever since the young Australian lad had entered the Formula 1 world, Y/N had entered it with him. Always by his side, always attending his races while also attending university.

They had been together for many years, practically having invented the term “highschool sweethearts”. Despite Oscar’s busy schedule and Y/N being at university, they always made it work, never letting the distance affect their relationship.

Moving together to the UK had represented the first sign that they were both in it for the long ride. Packing up their entire lives and moving across the globe to follow their dreams proved that their relationship and the love they had was real.

Real and pure.

When Oscar got the opportunity to drive in Formula 1 and Y/N started her studies, the time they spent together shortened by a significant amount, but they managed to make it work.

They talked on the phone every day, texting when neither of them could speak on the phone, they took every opportunity to visit each other when they had free time, with Y/N visiting Oscar at his races or Oscar coming home when he would have 2 weeks off between races.

They made it work.

But Oscar wasn’t satisfied. He needed something more. He needed something that would put his mind at ease when he would be away.

He needed to officially make you his.

Towards the end of the season, you had a few weeks off uni and decided to join your boyfriend in Qatar for the Grand Prix.

You hadn’t really chosen the best race to attend, the heat and the humidity making it really strenuous on your already tired body. But seeing the smile that Oscar had while doing the grid walk with you by his side made it worth it.

Being there for Oscar’s sprint win had been the highlight of your entire year. Seeing him cross the checkered flag first, seeing his name on that first position on every monitor around the paddock, the feeling was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Up until the moment Oscar got out of the car.

He made his way over to where you were waiting for him after he celebrated a little with the team, taking off his helmet and balaclava and giving them to one of his assistants.

“How about that?” he asked, chuckling as he pulled you into his arms, careful not to squeeze you too tightly because he was sweaty.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Os. I can’t believe I was here for your first win” you said, your voice muffled because you had your face buried in the crook of his neck.

“It’s technically not considered a win bec-”

“Shut up and enjoy the moment” you interrupted, making him chuckle and continue hugging you.

As he let go of you, you didn’t notice him reaching for something behind his back, not even his assistant subtly handing him something as he appeared again from the garage. All you could focus on was him, and nothing else around you.

It only really hit you when Oscar lowered himself down on one knee in front of you, a red velvet box in his hand.

“Oh my God” you said, your eyes widening and your hands flying up to your mouth.

All around you, the McLaren team gathered in a circle, phones ready and cameras rolling to catch the sweet moment on camera.

“Y/N, I don’t even know whether words will suffice to say what I want to say right now. You’ve been by my side since we were kids, you moved to the UK with me and left your entire family in Australia just for me, and I can’t even begin to explain how much that meant to me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, I frankly don’t think I could survive on my own if you weren’t here. I want to grow old with you, I want to have kids with you and build the life we’ve always talked about having. Y/N, will you marry me?” the words got stuck in your throat, so you settled for nodding feverishly.

The entire team around you cheered, but you could only see Oscar. As he got up and slid the ring on your left hand, you threw yourself into his arms and softly cried, the moment far too emotional to be able to hold back.

Your engagement had become national news in a matter of a couple of hours. Every media channel from the world had written about Oscar’s proposal in Qatar, speculating about when the wedding would be and whatnot.

It didn’t even feel like it had really happened when you stared at the ring on your finger, the feeling foreign but so welcome and like it was meant to be.

You and Oscar had multiple talks about when you would get married, where you would have the wedding and many other problems that came with being away from home and everyone’s families.

Which is why you decided to have the wedding back home in Australia.

After the season was finished and the winter break came, you and Oscar had started planning the wedding, which you settled to have after the last race before the summer break. He had already sent invitations out to the rest of the drivers, all of them very eager to attend the young lad’s wedding.

Lando was especially thrilled, but couldn’t help making jokes about how he had never thought Oscar would be the one getting married so young.

“What did you do to him, Y/N? You charmed him pretty damn well” he’d always joke whenever you guys would hang out in the garage before a race.

Yours and Oscar’s mothers took care of most of the things regarding the venue, the flower arrangements and catering, wanting to take the load off of you while you were halfway across the world.

The only thing that you had to worry about was picking your wedding dress and flying over to Australia to get married.

And when the day had finally come, excitement flowed through your veins.

Nicole and Oscar’s sisters had helped do your hair and make-up, your mother only watching as she sobbed quietly in the background.

“Mom, you’re gonna make me cry too if you don’t stop” you told her as you watched her through your mirror, making the other girls laugh.

“I just can’t believe my baby is getting married” she laughed, wiping her tears and walking up to stand behind you.

You smiled and took her hand, mostly to calm your nerves as well.

You were really getting married. And to the love of your life, which was a plus.

After you were prepped and ready to go, your father came to fetch you to walk you down the aisle. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you held his arm tightly and clutched the flower bouquet tightly in your other hand.

But your nerves disappeared like they had never even been there when the doors opened and you locked eyes with Oscar waiting for you at the end of the aisle, Logan beaming behind him as his best man.

The ceremony went by in a blur, the only focus on your part being on Oscar. You only vaguely remembered saying your vows and saying “I do”, your memory only having imprinted the first kiss you two shared as husband and wife.

You were positive that nothing could ever top this moment, getting married with all of your friends and families present, stepping into your new life with Oscar by your side.

Nothing could ever be better.

Nothing could top you becoming Mrs. Piastri.

Being Mr. and Mrs. Piastri.

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j3llyd0nut · 2 days

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Playground Love

ೀ older!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Tags: hurt/comfort, age gap (unspecified but reader is an adult), a lot of self doubt, talks about mommy and daddy issues, pet names (angel, princess, sweetheart).

W/C: 1.0k

A/N: studying? who is that? Anyways, this was supposed to be a cute ‘sitting on his lap would fix me’ but I got hit by existential crisis at 2am so angst.

"Wow, dating an older guy? That's so sophisticated!"

“Are you sure about this? Don’t you think there’s a reason why no one his age is dating him?”

"You get to date someone older? That's not fair! All I get are immature guys my age."

"Darling, I know you're an adult now, but dating someone significantly older... it just worries me. Are you sure you're on the same page?"

I love him.

At every reaction, you find yourself repeating the same phrase in your mind. It was a simple truth that anchored you amidst the swirl of opinions and doubts. Every concern, every envy—you faced them all with the same unwavering declaration.

But do you really love him?

The question lingered like a shadow, casting doubt on the certainty you had clung to so desperately. You couldn't shake the nagging feeling that perhaps you were merely caught up in the allure of dating someone older, mistaking infatuation for love. Or was it that you longed for attention from an older guy who could fill the void your absent father left?

You craved the paternal presence you had been denied, and in him, you found echoes of the guidance and affection you had longed for.

"Dating someone older? Isn't that a bit... strange?"

"Why? Age is just a number, right?"

"Yeah, but... do you really think you're at the same stage in life?"

Oh, how naively optimistic you were.

Perhaps you have been too quick to dismiss your loved one’s concerns, too eager to embrace the illusion of love in the arms of someone—his arms—who offered the fleeting promise of stability and security.

“But he makes me feel loved and safe,”

“Does he?”

Was your love truly built to withstand the test of time, or was it merely a fleeting illusion, destined to crumble beneath the weight of your differences?

“Darling, can we talk for a moment?”

“Sure, Ma. What’s on your mind?”

"Well, I couldn't help but notice... you seem quite taken with this new guy you're seeing."

"Oh, you mean Leon? Yeah, we've been spending some time together."

"He's... older, isn't he?"

"Um, yeah, he is."

"I see... darling, I just want to make sure you're being careful. Dating someone older can bring its own set of challenges."

"I know, Ma. But he's different. He understands me in a way no one else does."

"I'm sure he does, dear…but promise me you'll take things slow and really get to know him before things get too serious."

"I promise, Mama.”

You've broken many promises with your mama, but why did this one hurt? Is it because you partially blame her for shaping you the way you are? Is it because she married your father? Maybe she would have lived a happier life if it weren't for him, if only.

But you thanked her, both her and him, for the lesson learned, for the wisdom imparted, for the love that had always been there, and for helping you recognise the kind of partner to avoid.

You stood before the polished wooden door of Leon’s home office, your hand hovering in uncertainty over the ornate doorknob. Each second felt like an eternity as you battled with the torrent of doubts and fears that raged within you.

You needed him, wanted him to hold you, and tell you that everything would be fine.

But what if he couldn’t understand your doubts? What if your confession shattered the fragile illusion of your love?

With a steady breath, you pushed aside your apprehensions and grasped the doorknob, steeling yourself for the conversation that lay ahead.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” His voice, gruff yet soft and reassuring, always managed to send shivers down your spine, freezing you in place. You couldn’t find the words to speak, and your throat suddenly dried.

Sensing your hesitation, he beckoned you closer with a gentle smile. You could see the experiences he went through, the complexities of adulthood etched into the lines that creased his weathered face.

“Come here, angel. Sit on my lap while I work.”

You obeyed, crossing the threshold into his office, your feet padding on the wooden floor as you made your way to him. Settling onto his lap, your linen dress pooled around you, the fabric soft against your skin. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you close, his rough touch sent warmth flooding through your veins.

You inhaled his scent, a mixture of citrus and wood, with a hint of something familiar: whisky. You thought he quit. Ready to question him, you opened your mouth, but he stopped you before you could question him.

“Don’t worry your pretty head, princess. I only drank a glass, I promised. I’m just a bit stressed.”

“Mm, okay,” you replied, pushing aside your concerns for the moment as you melted into the warmth of his embrace.

You found solace in the familiar embrace of Leon's arms, the weight of your doubts momentarily forgotten as you leaned into his chest, burying your face against him. A few of his buttons were undone, allowing the soft hairs on his chest to brush against your face.

"Is everything alright, angel?" Leon's voice, soft and concerned, pulled you back to the present moment.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just want to stay like this, with you," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.

His arms tightened around you, drawing you closer, as if he could sense the hesitation in your voice. "Me too, princess. Me too," his stubble pricked your forehead as he murmured against them.

Oh, how weak you were. His voice and touch alone melted you into a puddle, and all your problems seemed to vanish in his embrace. Your mama wouldn’t be happy with how you turned out; she wished that you would never let a man make you weak like she was.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to sink deeper into his embrace, letting go of the weight of your doubts and worries. In this moment, all that mattered was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

Perhaps one day, when the time was right, you would find the courage to open up to him about your inner struggles. Until then, you cherished this moment, clawing in the warmth of his love.

Pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, Leon whispered softly, "I love you, angel.”

“I love you, too, Leon, always,” you replied. The words were a vow of unwavering devotion and love…was it really?

All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does, and that is his.

- Oscar Wilde

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil 6 leon #death island leon #infinite darkness leon #damnation leon #vendetta leon #dividers by fairytopea #✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 12 hours

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just for tonight

a/n: sure, I was vigilantly working on a different wip (a very long one that needed a lot of strength to get through) but then this whole fantasy came to me and i just couldn't stop myself... at least i downgraded the idea from a full-fledged series (which i sadly very much do not have the time for) to just a slutty little one shot in an au that i can always pop back into whenever the itch pops up (or when anyone has a slutty request for it hehe).

summary: before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, smut, reader's mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, posh political party, alcohol consumption, wet dream, lingerie, stockings, one night stand (except we already know those fools can't keep it to just one night), kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, oral, fingering, impact play, squirting, gaping, belly bulge, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4907

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“You sure, you don’t want some?” you squinted over at your bodyguard as you lowered the champagne flute from your lips, “this shit costs more than my dress, which is really saying something,” you pointed to the red silk gown that hung from your frame, “this is Dior.”

“I’m good, miss,” Bucky uttered, tight-lipped as always.

“Right, sorry,” you sat the glass down at the tall table you stood beside, “can’t drink while on duty.”

Posh parties such as the one tonight were always a bit of a drag to get through. Even though you’d been hauled along for most of your life, they’d never gotten any more amusing.

But when your mother hired Barnes to be your personal bodyguard a few months back, the thought of getting dolled up just to have a bunch of provoking politicians talk your ear off about ideas you’d never in a million years support, somehow didn’t seem as bad as it used to now that he was constantly at your side.

It had been a little incident involving your phone getting hacked, an explicit video nearly getting leaked, one that had been made for an ex who lived in another country to make the distance more barrable, and a few threatening messages from the perpetrator that had been the reason for your new shadow.

Though you’d been resistant at first, storming into your mother’s office to state that you were a grown woman and didn’t need a babysitter just because someone tried to exploit an old sex tape that in your opinion wasn’t even that big of a deal, swiftly got squashed when a then stranger cleared his throat behind you and shared the more gruelling threats that had been made alongside the hacking.

You’d hoped and prayed that he’d turn out to be a pain, that his personality could squash the feelings that fluttered inside of you whenever you looked at him, but unfortunately, he wasn’t an asshole. He was quiet, professional to a fault, but he wasn’t a dick. If anything, all of the silence and all of the glances to always keep track of you made the crush worse. It made you feel as if you were in a Jane Austen novel, reading between the lines of subtext your unreliable brain came up with.

“You tired?” he asked as a yawn rolled out of you.

“Mhm,” you hummed behind the palm you had brought up to your lips.

“The car’s ready to take you back to the embassy whenever you are.”

A grateful smile twitched at your lip as you offered him a small nod of confirmation, “I’ll just go tell my mom.”

The ambassador, your mother, had her back turned to you as she talked business with a small group of people even though the hour had grown late.

You waited for a sliver of a break before you tapped her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“Hey, mom?” her palm found yours as she turned to look at you, “I’m gonna head home.”

“Oh, alright,” she leaned in and pressed a small peck to your cheek, “see you tomorrow, love.”

“Bye,” you gave her hand one last squeeze before heading out of the elegant venue, your guard still only a few paces behind you.

A dusty drizzle met your skin as you exited onto the midnight streets of Paris. The sensation made you want to walk home, though you still followed Bucky to the black car already waiting and slipped in when he opened the back door for you.

The light from the city reflected on the back of his metal hand as it gripped the steering wheel. You could faintly spot the prominent veins on the other one dance beneath the inked skin as it did the same, tattoos you still ached to discover just how far they stretched beneath his dark suit.

Though soon your gaze flickered away from his silhouette as he drove, and fluttered out to the glittering cityscape rolling by, the vision of which swiftly lulled you to sleep.

When you arrived home, Bucky’s steely eyes found your slumbering form in the rear-view mirror. You didn’t rouse when he opened your door and carefully picked you up into his arms. You didn’t wake either as he carried you inside, all the way up to your bedroom, and layed you down on your bed.

Gently, he removed your heels and quietly placed them down on the hardwood floor before he grabbed your duvet and tugged it over your form.

But just as he moved to leave your side, half asleep you caught his hand.

“Don’t go…” you murmured hazily, eyes still shut.

And so, he didn’t.

Bucky simply reached for the tufted chair nearby and, as silently as he could, scooted it closer to the bed.

Barely an hour passed before you woke.

Before you even blinked open your eyes, your fingers began to slide down your body as the sinful dream you’d been blessed with still lingered in your foggy brain.

Though when your eyes did flutter open and discovered the star of the dream sitting in a chair right next to you, your hand halted its voyage, and you sucked in a startled breath.

“You okay?” he asked softly as you blinked a few times.

“Uh,” the throbbing that still lingered from the dream probably wasn’t going to fade any faster with him sitting there with his unwavering stare, “yeah, I’m–, uhm…” you propped yourself up on your elbow before sitting up more, “I’m fine.”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, it wasn’t a–…” your sentence then crumbled as you sucked in a breath, “what are you doing watching me sleep?”

As you met his gaze, he then uttered, “you asked me to stay.”

Your eyes then widened, “I did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” though you couldn’t recall, heat still began to bloom on your cheeks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“It's alright,” his shoulders offered a faint shrug.

Averting your gaze, you noticed that you were still in your dress. You weren’t quite sure if it pleased you or not that Bucky didn’t try to strip it off you, though it was probably less the moral intentions and more the fantasy of him peeling it off of you that swayed you.

“Were you just planning on sleeping in that chair all night?” you asked.

“No,” he shook his head, “I wasn’t planning on sleeping at all.”

A tinge of guilt stung in your chest, “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I must have been asleep or something…” you then swung your legs over the side of the bed and got up. As your fingers raised up to pluck off your sparkling earrings, your feet began to carry you in the direction of your wardrobe. Dropping the jewellery off in a small porcelain bowl on the opposite bedside table, you then glanced back at your bodyguard and said, “you don’t have to stay any longer, you can go back to your room and get some sleep.”

Offering you a nod, he then began to walk towards the door.

Though, as you reached back to undo your dress, you abruptly uttered, “wait,” and he stopped before his steely fingers could enclose around the door handle. Turning to glance back at you, a bold request then hesitantly fell from your lips, “could you maybe help unzip me?”

He barely made a noise, simply hummed quietly in response before his slow stride carried him towards your frame as it twisted for your back to be turned to him.

When you felt his touch on the zipper, tugging it down ever so slowly, your breath came in ragged, and your eyes fluttered shut. You swore you felt his radiating heat seep into you as he exposed more of your goosebump-ridden spine.

As the straps tumbled over your shoulders, your hands came up to your chest to hold it up even though you wished for nothing more than to let it drop before him.

And when the zipper finally reached its end, he lingered right behind you just long enough for you to catch the tether of it. Slowly, as if you were dealing with a skittish bird, you rotated around. You didn’t dare to look him in the eyes as you let yourself follow that magnetic pull you’d been trying to keep at bay. Your gaze flickered up to his lips as heated puffs of air seeped from your lungs and you slowly, hypnotically, inched closer.

But then Bucky opened his mouth and said in a soft and quiet tone, “what are you doing?” making you halt, though not pull back.

“Please don’t act like you don’t already know… I know you do…”

“You can’t,” he uttered, though didn’t move to walk away either as he captured your gaze, “we can’t, alright?”

“Why not?” you breathed, your eyes returning to his lips, “is it really that important for you to stay professional over everything else? Or is it that I’m just a job to you?” your heart felt as if it was gonna beat straight out of your chest, “you know I like you, I know you do. You notice everything, so of course you know. Am I right?”

A long exhale then flowed from his lungs before the faintest of nods tilted his head, “…yeah.”

“And I have eyes too, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” a shiver trickled down your spine, “so, are you really gonna just stand there and pretend you don’t feel something too? Just go back to your own room and continue to protect me like nothing’s going on?”

“Y/n, I can’t be with you,” he shook his head heavily, “you know I can’t.”

Can’t or won’t?

Before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?”

As if your quiet whispers melted him completely, your bodyguard breathed, “…fuck…” and the next thing you knew, he’d grabbed your face and seized your lips.

It was like something inside of him had snapped, something you had shattered, with the way that he kissed you as if he’d been drowning and your lips were oxygen.

As you lost yourself in the sensation of his tongue dancing across your own, you let the red dress drop down your body, passed the sheer stockings that clung around your thighs, to the floor. Like fire, one of his hands disappeared from your cheek and ran down your frame, grazing over the black lingerie that was now exposed.

Though heated and hungry at first, the kiss soon softened into lighter pecks.

With his metal hand, he held your face close to his as he withdrew from the kiss, an action you weren’t quite ready for as you dreamily trailed after him a bit, longing for his lips.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” his hot breath fanned across your features.

“Yes,” you whispered swiftly.

But as you dizzily blinked up at him, he simply hummed for you to elaborate, “hm?”

“Yes, I want you,” goosebumps tingled across your skin.

“You want me to what?” his thumb swiped over your cheekbone.

“I want you to–, to–…” you fumbled as you felt your desire drip and soak your panties, making them cling to your aching core.

“To what, huh?”

“To–… fuck me,” the embarrassingly desperate words tumbled out your mouth.

“You want me to fuck you?” his unwavering stare briefly dropped to your parted lips.

“Yes,” the syllable rushed out of you.

“Say it again,” he tilted his chin.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Louder,” his feet began to shift, causing yours to shuffle back as well.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“One more time,” his hand had dropped down to your jaw and his fingers curled slightly to dent your soft cheeks.

“I want you to fuck me, please!”

With the hold he had on you, he swiftly dipped down and pressed his lips to yours once more. The world then fell out from under you as his grasp scooped down your frame and plucked you up.

Your arms tangled around his neck right before your back collided with the closet door and your lips tilted away from his as a short squeak slipped out. The distance however lent Bucky to let his kisses dance down the length of your neck and across your cleavage, so perfectly framed by the sheer fabric of your bra.

Though the hickeys he began to plant across your skin made your eyes roll in your skull, your fingers still captured his tie and tugged him back up for your lips to crash against his. As you moved to push his blazer off, his sturdy grip on you shifted though still held you close as the jacket fell from his burly frame and your palms swiftly scooped over his broad shoulders and down his chest, now one layer closer to letting you actually get to feel the furnace roiling beneath.

Cupping his face close, whimpers seeped out of you and vibrated against his lips as his fingers dug into your ass and rubbed your barely covered cunt over the palpable tent in his pants, your want surely drenching through your thin underwear and marking him as well.

You almost didn’t realise that Bucky had moved till he dropped you down on the bed. Taking a step back, his tongue briefly flicked across his breathless lips as his fingers lifted to tug his tie off.

Staring directly into your soul, he uttered, “take your bra off,” as he tossed the tie to the floor and your fingers scrambled to fulfil his request. When you flung the lingerie to the ground, right next to his crumbled tie, the cool night air kissed your pebbly nipples and Bucky let out a murmured curse right before bending down to press his lips to yours.

Balanced on your elbows, you parted your lips and let his tongue sweep across your own. His touch coasted down your frame, barely granting your tits any attention before his grasp hooked around your thighs and yanked you closer to the edge of the mattress. A surprised yelp escaped you at first at the sudden shift, but as the sting of saliva, that had lingered and connected you from your sloppy kiss, snapped back against your skin, the short cry morphed into a fizzy giggle.

The light laugh however faded away when you watched him sink to his knees at the foot of the bed. Your legs curled up even further on either side of you, though you weren’t quite sure if that was you or him pushing them up and cracking you open that much more. You could feel his breath hit your pantie-clad core as his gaze fixated on the soaked spot right over your puff.

When his palm slid up your inner thigh, he only had to reach out his thumb for the broad pad to ghost over your covered slit. His eyes swiftly flickered up to capture yours, checking your reaction as you began to squirm from his feathery light touch.

Hooking his finger in the gusset, he pulled it to the side and a glossy string stretched out and clung to the fabric as he revealed your glistening pussy.

A breathy moan billowed out of you as he began to touch you, rolling your little pearl beneath his touch. Finding your eyes once more, he held your gaze as he then leaned down to press a gentle kiss over your clit.

“This okay?” his voice vibrated against your bundle of nerves, making you twitch.

“Mhm,” you nodded foggily, “you can do anything you want.”

“Anything?” his lips twitched into a smirk as his fingers stretched from where they were clutching your panties to brush over your button.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “fucking anything.”

Your mouth then hung agape at the sight of him dipping down to ruthlessly taste your desire. It didn’t take long before he lost himself in you so fiercely that he momentarily leaned back only to rip your underwear off. Both of his hands curved around your bottom, raking across your skin as he drew you even closer to his tongue and dragged it through your wet folds.

Bumping his nose against your clit, he let himself make out with your cunt a moment longer before planting a farewell peck over your pearl and pulling back. A dollop of spit dropped from his lips down onto your pussy. Catching the drop with his fingers before it slid away, he rubbed it into your own juices and made you that much more of a mess.

“O-oh,” you moaned as he slowly slid a long finger into you after teasing your weepy entrance enough to make you shiver.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned at the soppy sounds his efforts conjured.

Craning down to kiss your clit sloppily, Bucky then slid his ring finger in beside the other, curving them gently as he reached even deeper.

When he momentarily retracted his digits to land a small tap over your puffy petals, the smile that bloomed on your face only egged him on further. Plugging you back up, he then retracted and repeated the slap though with more ferocity.

Your head began to lull a bit as he brought his vibranium digits down to roll your clit and his fingers began to fuck you harder, not faster, but with an intent that made your pussy sing for him.

With your thighs trembling, they nearly slammed shut as you felt the end near, but your bodyguard only slid his strong metal forearm over your legs, hooking it right under both of your bent knees, to keep you spread nice and open for him.

The veins on the back of his inked hand popped from how fiercely his fingers rocked within you.

Stretching his thumb up to strum your clit, he tried to sneak a third finger inside of you as he felt your walls begin to flutter around him.

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” as he always did in every manner, evidently. A smile curved at his lips as your eyes fluttered closed and a symphony of moans flowed out of you with every last tender stroke he offered you to carry you over the edge, “atta girl.”

Melted against the sheets, you caught your breath as he planted one last peck on your inner thigh before standing back up.

Slowly, with his gaze ever glued on you, he unbuttoned his shirt, gradually revealing the silver shine of the dog tags that hung from his neck and the tattoos that sprawled across his skin. Going all the way up from the hand still shiny with your essence, the ink swirled up his right arm, across his pecs, down his back and even curved over to his left shoulder and intentionally tangled into the gnarly scares sprouting from the border of his prosthetic.

When the button-up hit the floor, his fingers drifted down to unhurriedly remove his belt, pulling it out of the loops, he let it join the shirt before he undid his pants and let his cock spring free.

“Jesus christ…” your jaw couldn’t help but drop to the floor as your eyes fluttered at the intimidating reveal.

Noticing the anxiety that peeked through your lust-ridden expression, his low voice found your ears, “what? Did you change your mind?”

“No, I just–…” you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his fat cock as it throbbed before you, “I got a bit nervous all of a sudden.”

“No reason to be nervous, baby,” he breathed out a smile as his fist curled around his girth.

“Oh really?” you nearly began to laugh.

“You’ll be fine,” drool threatened to escape the corner of your lips as he slowly began to stroke himself, “trust me.”

“Really? Because I’m not so sure I’ll be able to take that…”

“You will,” he uttered calmly as he dipped down to give you a kiss, “don’t worry,” a hand slid into your hair as he cradled your face and ushered your gaze to find his, “you know I’d never hurt you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’ll be fine,” his thumb curved to sweep over your cheek a few times.

“Yeah,” you gently nodded and repeated after him, “I’ll be fine.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled. Kissing you once more, he then pressed a peck to your forehead before his grasp found your hips and he suddenly flipped you around, onto your stomach.

Helping you up onto your hands and knees, a hazy smile stretched across your features as he bent down over you and pressed kisses all along your spine. Dragging his bulbous tip through your sopping folds, he then teased you for so long, never granting you any more than a dizzying nudge, that whines began to escape from you.

“P-please,” you heard yourself beg as your fingers bunched up the sheets.

“What?” he continued to flick and tap your swollen clit with the head of his heavy cock.

“I–I want it–, plea–, please fuck me,” you blubbered desperately.

“Oh, now you want it, huh?” you could hear the smirk that dominated his face, “suddenly not so nervous anymore about me stretching you out, are you?”

“Bucky, plea–, o-oh–,” you felt your limbs tremble beneath you as he slipped the very tip inside.

His efforts were so slow at first, gradually giving you more of his length and just shallowly fucking you till you blossomed and opened up for him.

Gradually, his thrusts began to ease from a mind-numbingly slow pace to something that truly scrambled your brain. You soon lost yourself completely to the molten sensation of his fat girth steadily splitting you open.

Though when he finally bottomed out within you, a shrill gasp slipped out passed your lips and your frame shuttered beneath him.

Drawing his hips back just enough for you to regain the ability to fill your lungs with oxygen once more, you heard him murmur in your ear, “what, is it too much dick for you?” retraining his thrusts slightly, he kept his tip from kissing your cervix, “that better or is it still too deep for you?” his hands dented your hips.

“N-no, no, it feels so good, it’s just–,” a whimper slipped out of you and broke up your slurring, “you’re so fucking big, I’ve never–,” you felt like you could feel him all the way up in your throat, “no one’s ever been that fucking deep before.”

One of his hands curved down to your clit at the exact same time as your own did. As they met, he let your own fingers swirl over your puffy pearl as his simply lingered, till he suddenly grasped your wrist and gently led it away from your pussy, further up to your lower stomach.

“That deep?” he pressed down on your palm and let you discover the dull bulge that formed in your belly at every one of his dizzying thrusts, “has no one ever stuffed you that full before? Not even one of your pretty toys you play with so often?”

“Nuh-uh,” you panted as his warm contact dissipated from your spine and he straightened back up.

A gravelly moan slipped out past Bucky’s lips as he glanced down to see how tightly your creamy pussy was gripping onto his cock. Your fingers returned to the sheets as his wide palm came down to slap your ass, your back arching at the impact and consequently angling his efforts so that the details of his dick brushed against your g-spot in the most heavenly way imaginable.

He only buried himself inside of you a few more times, his heavy sack tapping against your buzzing clit at every electric buck, till your pussy gushed around his fat girth.

“There you go,” he pulled out only to insistently flick your puffy pearl with his tip, “fucking hell,” he then plunged his cock all the way back in before dragging it back out, “keep going,” ushering more squirt to drizzle out. He kept up the overwhelming pattern till your pussy stopped gushing for him, till he’d pushed you through the overstimulation and your cunt slowly began to relax again for him. Eventually, when he steadily withdrew from you, he craned his neck to relish in the way your little hole had stretched out and accommodated so well for him, it even winking sinfully at him every time he pulled out, “good fucking girl,” he growled at the sight, “told you so, you’d do just fine,” your shaky frame jolted as he slapped your ass again, “look at you now fucking gaping for me, christ…”

With a ring of your cream staining the base of his cock, he let himself return to your warmth for longer than just a few seconds, fucking you with such ferocity that your pliant form, still molten and unsteady from your second orgasm, collapsed onto the mattress below.

Though he successfully caught you before you could slip off his cock entirely, he still let you drop down on the bed, though softened the fall for you, before he followed suit.

The weight of him on top of you felt so comforting and soothed on your tingly skin.

“You okay?” he kissed your cheek before spreading your stocking-clad legs with his own.

“Hm,” you nodded foggily and felt yourself drool onto the sheets as he squished you further into the mattress.

Your shaky moans filled the bedroom as he slid back inside, “fuck, you feel so good…” sloppily nipping just below your ear before he picked up his pace.

The chain that dangled from his neck felt cool on your skin and acted as a stark contrast to how hot his body felt pressed against your back.

“You think you can be a good girl and cum for me again?” he groaned into your ear as his efforts echoed sloppily, “let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze around me one last time?”

“I-I don’t know,” you trembled beneath him, every one of his deep thrusts making you jolt and gasp for air as he was practically splitting you in half.

“You don’t know?” he sweetly whispered in your ear as he curled his arms under you. One hand slid under your tit and caught your pebbly nipple in a rude pinch while the other soared down to your sore and swollen clit, “can you try for me? Try and cum again,” your eyes had fallen completely shut, so your whole reality had just become Bucky’s reassuring weight, his tantalising efforts, and his sinful whispers that seeped directly into your soul, “try and squirt for me one last time, sweetheart.”

And so, you did. It didn’t even take that long before you tumbled over one last time and your pussy creamed for him, drenching the already damp sheets beneath you, as he swiftly came as well, throbbing deep within your clenching cunt and filling your little hole up to the brim till it tried to leak and escape around his girth.

His heavy pants faded from your ear as he slowly crawled off of you, cascading a tender trail of kisses all the way down your body till he gently retraced his track of pecks and settled down next to you. Fluttering your eyes open as his palm slid up to your heated cheek, he gazed into your hazy eyes for a moment before leaning in to softly press his lips to your own.

You wanted to curl in closer to his frame, but your body was so exhausted that you could barely raise your pinkie finger. Fortunately though, as you layed there in wordless wonder, Bucky’s arms draped around you as he scooted in close, hugging you to him and gently caressing your skin as you continued to blink back into his ocean eyes, not uttering a word out of fear that you’d ruin the blissful moment.

After perhaps a small eternity had passed, he briefly raised his head up slightly to catch sight of the small clock on your bedside table.

“There’s still a few more hours left before the sunrise…” he settled back down beside you.

“Oh, yeah?” a soft smile tilted up your lips as his touch began to travel south.

“Yeah,” his lips gently parted in a silent moan as his fingers slid through your sore folds. His stare was transfixed on how your brows knitted together and a quiet hiss slipped out of you as he swirled over your sensitivity, playing with the hot load he’d pumped into you as it slowly leaked out, one of his digits too brash not to try and stuff it back inside, “what do you think?” sharing your breath, he inched in and let his nose nuzzle against your own, “do you want me to be yours just a little bit longer or would you rather I’d return to my own bed?”

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pholla-jm · 21 hours

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I feel like Sukuna is the type to have a daughter with her mom's angelic looks and her father's power and personality haha. Can I ask for some cute scenarios of them please? 🙏

Hello! This was such a cute idea! I couldn't think of anything good, but I came up with some stuff. However, if I do come up with more, I'll definitely tag you!

Like Daughter, Like Father

IMAGINE: LIKE DAUGHTER, LIKE FATHER GENRE: FLUFF cw: not proof read. mention of blood and killing *****************

Everyone thinks that Sukuna would have a son, and spend most of his time with his son.

However, the universe decided to bless him with a daughter instead.

And she definitely took her mom’s looks. An exact copy and paste.

Like an angel sent straight down to heaven. If you took one look at her, she looked so innocent and peaceful.

However, anyone that spent time with her knew that she was just like her daddy.

In fact, you knew that she was going to be such a daddy’s girl when she said her first word. Well, more like shouted.

Sukuna was about to leave to walk around another village, leaving you and your daughter at the castle.

You could tell that she was getting upset by her wiggling movements and grabby hands towards her father. However, that didn’t really stop Sukuna. What came out of your daughter's mouth next definitely made him stop.

“Daddy!” She shouts and Sukuna stops. His body was slightly tense, like he was processing what he just heard.

His little girl, shouting his name. Almost like she was beckoning him over. His brain was telling him that no one tells him what to do. But his heart and body was telling him something different. He couldn’t just walk away from his child.

He turns around, a bit surprised with the look on her face.

Her eyebrows were furrowed, lips turned into a pout and she was glaring at him.

“Awe, you said your first words.” You coo at her. “Daddy.” She says again, but more stern. “Ooh, sounds like someone is mad.” You start to tease.

Sukuna rolls his eyes and walks back over to you and his daughter. He takes her from you, her body being enveloped in his arms. Any child would probably be scared to be held by him. But she wanted it. She wanted to stick right by his side.

“Daddy.” She says again. “Tch, what do you want, brat?”

Her glare just hardens and you laugh.

“Oh, this is too good. Looks like you’re spending the day with her.”

You were amused with how much your daughter is like Sukuna. She always sported a serious look on her face and she glared at every single person that she didn’t know. Sure, she took your looks. But she stole his whole personality.

“Huh?” Sukuna looks at you a bit shocked as you start to leave the room.

“Make sure to bring her back alive.” Your daughter wasn’t even paying attention to you as you left. All of her attention is on her daddy, already planning on how to make his life harder.

***********

“Where is that brat?” Sukuna mumbles as he walks through the hallways. His steps were a bit faster than usual, as he looked for his daughter. She for some reason thought it was a good idea to play hide n seek even though Sukuna said no.

However, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Now Sukuna is slightly stressed out as he looks for the tiny half human/curse.

“If you don’t come out, your mother is going to kill me.”

It was silent for a couple of minutes, and then he heard the teeny tiny patter of feet coming towards him.

He turns around, looking down at his daughter.

His eyes widened seeing that she was covered in red. His brain immediately goes to the worst. He walks up to her, bending down to her level.

“Kill?” She repeats. “Yes. Kill. Something that your mother is going to do if you did something bad.” He mumbles as he inspects her for any cuts or wounds.

He was relieved seeing that it wasn’t her blood. His thumb smudges at one of the red stains, bringing it to his mouth. “Cranberries?”

“Cwanbewies.” She repeats with a large smile on her face.

Sukuna lets out a sigh of relief. “Where did you even get cranberries?”

“Kitchen.” Sukana nods his head. “Wait, how did you get in there? What about the servants?”

She’s silent for a moment, like she's thinking about her answer. “Kill.” She says.

“You kill?” He asks and she nods her head with a proud look on her face.

She didn’t exactly know how to communicate that the servant got in the way of her cranberries. She just simply got rid of the obstacle.

Sukuna looks down and sees that there is indeed blood staining the bottom of her yukuta. Sukuna smiles, proud of her actions.

Then, you popped into his head. You were the exact opposite of these two. And he already knows that you would not be happy.

“Okay, don’t tell mom.” “Tell mom?” “No.” “I tell mom.” “I just said no.” “Mom!” “Shut it!” “No, you.”

Sukuna covers her mouth, his hand covering most of her face. He stands up, picking her up in the process. He looks around, looking for any sign of you.

He was relieved that you didn’t hear what was going on.

“Listen. You don’t say a word, and I’ll get you your favorite chocolate.” Her eyes lit up and she nodded her head. “Alright, good. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #oneshot #sukuna fluff #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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215-luv · 13 hours

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sakusa kiyoomi almost knocks off the keys on the table near the front door as he enters your shared apartment in the middle of the night. he barely has any energy left to properly drop his things down on the floor as he could feel a migraine coming in soon if not long.

the apartment is quiet and dark. the lights that were left open were the ones in the kitchen. however, he doesn’t see any signs of you. nor does he hear your voice, and he takes it as a sign that you’re probably asleep in your shared bedroom. it signals him to silently make his way through the short hallway, leading to your bedroom where the door was left ajar.

when sakusa does reach the door, he doesn’t make his way inside first. what he does is he makes an effort to slowly and quietly peak against the small space so he could see you. it was dark. and yet he sees you. the light from the kitchen cascades through the small opening, shining a dull but visible light over you that it allows him to see your figure that’s peacefully lying on bed. and god, the sight leaves him breathless. you’re like a goddess. you’re too beautiful to look at. you look so peaceful—so lovely that he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he accidentally wakes you up from your slumber.

“omi?”

and oh shit! his heart nearly leaps out from his chest. your tired and timid voice reaches like music to his ears. just why are you so addicting? but wait. you’re awake? did he just wake you up? oh, he’ll be damned! despite the butterflies in his stomach, it has practically been dominated by the disappointment crashing over him right now.

it was a laughable matter actually. from your perspective, you see a huge, six footer man with handsome features slowly opening the door of your bedroom to let himself in. what’s adorable is that this man of yours has an obvious pout cascading over his features. he couldn’t look at you. his eyes were shooting down to the ground as he makes himself as small as possible infront of you.

you chuckle, “tired day?”

sakusa clears his throat. “yeah. go back to sleep. i’m sorry for disrupting you—i mean, your sleep.”

“hey, it’s okay.” you smile as your cheek is smushed against the pillow. “i’m glad i woke up. i got to see you today.”

sakusa scratches the back of his head. “i-is that so?”

“yeah.” you reply, “you went to practice too early. i woke up without you in bed. i wouldn’t want to end the day without seeing you either, omi.”

it was only ‘till then your words sends him to a state of shock. it almost feels like a wake up call or a hit on the head by a bat (if not a volleyball). you don’t know if you broke him or not, but sakusa stood by the side of the bed, unable to move, as if he’s in a trance.

“you.. w-what..?”

he’s so caught off guard that it lets out a chuckle out of you. he’s so adorable. your boyfriend.

“you heard me.” you say, letting out a sleepy smile that bursts the butterflies in sakusa’s stomach.

and he just couldn’t believe it. about four years earlier, sakusa couldn’t see himself ever loving someone, nor having someone to love him back. four years earlier, he was just a highschool student who strived nothing else but to dedicate his life to volleyball.

but then again, who knew things could change drastically in the future?

because four years later, at a late evening, he realizes that he’s looking at the only person who he wants to dedicate his whole life to.

that only person being you.

#i’m crying #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!!#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader #hq fluff #sakusa x you

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vnusoki · 2 days

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I CANT BE WHAT YOU NEED . . .

ノ synopsis. you loved them, of that you were sure. so why did you leave them ?

ノ tags. satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, toji fushiguro x reader ( separate ). angst. hurt/ no comfort. reader leaves. the men have fatal flaws.

ノ a/n. this is some sad idea I had at the back of my head. the title is a song lyric but I can’t remember it’s name but it’s famous. made this rlly quickly so don’t mind spelling errors.

SATORU GOJO’s fatal flaw is that in a relationship, he could never truly open up to someone. be it his lover, which in this case is you, he can’t find himself telling you his deepest darkest secrets and at the beginning of your relationship that was fine.

you were still fresh to this whole thing and you wanted to take it slow, but the closer you got, the more you knew of him, the further he got away.

it was as if a string had been attached to him, like he was a fish, and whenever you caught him, he would be pulled back by something invisible to everyone but you.

it was like satoru was blinded to it himself.

that had been the reason why you left. satoru was too caught up in his own world. he lacked the ability to truly connect with his significant other yet alone anyone. but he had once, a long time ago.

SUGURU GETO was too caught up in himself to ever truly commit himself to you. you noticed it at first, in the beginning but you hadn’t minded it then. it had been hidden behind the cold lie that he was just passionate in his work.

his work, in fact, consisted of crimes and whatnots. things that thoroughly bugged you but you payed them no heed. turning a head to them, you would walk down the corridor and away from the truth you desperately wanted to hide from.

days went by before suguru would ever truly come to bed, and even then you didn’t speak much, exhaustion having taken over his body, he would retire for the night, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the stars twinkling in the night sky.

you thought he was a star once, from the way he shone one but now he was even more so like it. a star that only isolated himself.

NANAMI KENTO was a work-aholcoholic. once, you’d teasingly remarked he had been married to his wir more than he had been married to you. yo hadn’t thought on it then, but now you could see how right you were.

kento was practically married to his work. he prided himself of getting the best business ideas out before any of his co-workers. that meant staying up late and working till the early hours of the morning.

he never had time for you anymore. first it had been absent nights, but now, it had turned to him not even giving you a kiss goodbye when you left for work.

it was as if you were a roomie that hated the same bed with the other. not that you were partners, or that you were married. you had left the very same night his project he’d been working on for so long, became a success.

TOJI FUSHIGURO was a dangerous man. a traumatised one before even that. he had been through a lot, suffered a lot, and had come out on top.

people had left him. even his previous-wife had left him, not that it was her fault, but you could tell from the scar on his lip, to even the harsh look in his eye that toji was unfamiliar with anything staying permanent in his life.

you’d let it off the first few times, when he made you stay with him a lot more than usual. insisting that your friends wouldn’t mind you skipping just this one weekend. that one weekend turned into several.

until your friends had complained about your controlling boyfriend. they’d been the ones to open your eyes to tojis unhealthy attachment issues.

you’d left before he could become even more stuck to you than he already was.

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queenhunter102 · 1 day

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Cod boys and how they come home.

Captain John Price I can see this man having one of his last phone calls with and in code telling the rough timeline of him and his boys coming home. When he does finally step off that chopper and onto that British Soil, I can see that man running to you full speed as he wraps his arms around, damn near toppling the pair of you over. “Hello, my love,” he would whisper as he buried his face into you, just taking in your smell, that thing he wished he could bottle up and take with him on missions, not that he didn’t already have his matching ring. He just wanted that scent to linger longer than it did while he was on missions. Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick Now, Kyle? I see him as the type to just rock up to your flat looking like a little lost puppy, his big brown eyes and the fake petty lip when you swing the door open to him before pouncing on you like a lion when you welcome him into your arms. This man’s mouth would not stop running like he would constantly utter words of praise, like “I adore you” and “You are my everything.” It would be like this man is layering it on thick, hoping you don’t let him go any time yet. Why would you? He was the best damn teddy there ever could be. Alejandro Vargas Now, sweet talker over here? He wouldn’t immediately just go straight home. No, oh nononono, this man would stop off and get you flowers, your favourite drink, food, you name it, like this man is acting like YOU had left on a mission and had finally returned, not him, and when he had unlocked the door to his little house. He would drop everything onto the coffee table just long enough for him to launch himself at you, pinning you to the couch and peppering kisses all over, “Necesito que me des Vida”, he would whisper as he pressed more and more kisses to your jaw. And why wouldn’t you give him life? You did every day. Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish See Johnny here. This man is a fiend when he comes home, like he is everywhere, all over you. Despite being the smallest out of the group, he makes up for it with his ability to find a way under your clothes. To the point, you are a giggly mess, and to where you are shirtless and locked in a cupboard somewhere, pressed against the door, trying to steal all of your oxygen, only breaking apart to whisper things like “Please let me in no-one will notice” or “five more minutes, just five I went months without you.” And who could you deny him? He had fought in your honour, in your name… well, his really. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley Now, Si? This big oaf would have waited hours before rushing home. He would have filled out the paperwork he needed to, making sure it got to the right people, even if that meant hand delivery. This man would have spent so much time at the base that you would think you must have had the dates wrong or that the worst must have happened while you sat on the couch and waited for him to walk through the door. And when he finally did come home, you would wrap him into your arms pulling him into you, “Sor’ove, had shit to finish” he would mutter before wrapping you in his arms, pulling you tight into him. What are a few hours of waiting when he has the next two weeks off?

Taglist: @cringeycookies (If you wanna be in my Taglist: Here) Remember: leaving a like, re-blogging, and commenting helps in this world and encourages more. See you around, my little loves. Kissess.

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tabbedtabby · 1 day

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good luck, babe! | chapter 2

regina george x reader

summary: After the Queen Bee of North Shore makes up rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing room, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You didn’t think that would mean coming to a reluctant agreement with Regina George.

a/n: i wasn’t gonna add cady but now i am because it’s convenient for me so just pretend she’s in the last chapter lol. also they get high way faster than what’s accurate but i wrote this in like 4 sittings it felt longer to me pls spare me. if the picture collage thing is ugly i’m sorry i’m not a tumblr native 😭 but anyways big thanks to everyone who interacted with the first chapter mwah!!!!! (photo creds from left to right: @/mediorcesav on insta, @/marvelsgirl616, casual mv by chappell roan)

——————————————————————

When the bell rings after 7th period, you’re already halfway out the door.

You’re already sober enough from earlier so you’re desperate to get outside, even if Regina will be there. You bite the inside of your mouth in annoyance. You like your after school alone time; you didn’t want the person who literally ruined your social life to be there. At least maybe she’ll leave right after you smoke. You realize she most likely won’t after you remember she drives. How could you forget that bedazzled orange Jeep?

You feel the dappled sunlight sink heat into your skin once you enter the woods behind the baseball field. It really was a nice day. You make your way to your usual spot and lift up the pile of sticks and leaves that hide your forest stash. The guy who sells to you charges a ridiculous amount for carts compared to just the plant so you try to use them sparingly. Even if this shit stinks up the whole forest.

You’re not sure if Regina will care or not if you start without her, so you pull out your phone to pass the time. Besides, you want to be sober anyway when she finally shows.

After about 20 minutes of standing there, you start to get impatient. You almost pull the bag out to start without her before you finally see a flash of blonde hair from behind the trees.

“Took you long enough.” you mutter, already opening the bag without paying Regina much attention. Your patience was windeled, and you don’t especially want to talk to her anyway.

“Sorry I have a social life. I guess you wouldn’t know,” she snaps back, her voice strained.

You feel the annoyance crawl down your back like a centipede, and you have to bite the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from saying something back to her. She holds basically your life in her hands since you’d be both fucked and poor if she decided to snitch on you. Probably not a good idea to start a fight on the first day of your little deal, but she made it difficult.

You grab one of the cans from under the pile of leaves as you see Regina cross her arms a couple feet away from you. Her eyes watching your every move makes you a bit wary on instinct. You feel like a mouse being stalked by a snake. You grab a decently sized piece out of the bag and put it on the crushed can. You couldn’t be bothered to roll your own blunts, so this was the next best thing.

“How much have you smoked before?” you ask, just wanting a general idea on how much she should have so that you wouldn’t have to drag her to the parking lot. Apparently, she takes great offense.

“What are you, my mom? Just hurry up so I can get out of here,” she says begrudgingly, like being out here was the biggest possible drag on her life. She was really grating on your last nerve right now.

“Trying my best.” you respond dryly, giving her a snide smile as you fiddle with the lighter.

“Well, obviously it’s not good enough. What are you even doing, anyway? This is the shadiest shit I’ve ever seen—”

You blow the first hit out of your mouth harshly. “Can you please just shut the fuck up? I don’t want to be out here with you either!”

“That’s shocking. I’m surprised this isn’t your ultimate wet dream, being alone in the forest with me,” Regina sneers, nothing but disgust on her face. Like you were some kind of animal instead of human.

“What’s that going off of? The photo collection that you made up?” you snap, putting the can down for a minute. “Believe me, I want nothing to do with you either. But since we’re gonna be out here every day, you could at least make it a little easier.”

You can tell she wants to rip your throat out just by the way she looks at you. Pursed lips, downturned eyebrows, piercing blue eyes surrounded by eyeliner almost as sharp as the look she’s giving you right now. She’s way too tense for someone about to get high.

“Whatever.” she finally says, although the edge to her voice makes you want to scoff. Better not to sour her mood more than necessary, though.

Pleased with the newfound silence, you light the piece on top of the can once more and take another hit. It’s strong enough to make you cough, and you sit down against the foot of a tree. Regina raises an eyebrow at you.

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of professional,” she says, but her voice isn’t quite as taunting as before. It almost sounded like a joke. Maybe she was considering not making this hell for you after all.

“It’s not good if it doesn’t make you cough.” you respond with a shrug. She looks at you expectantly, but you pretend you don’t see. You don’t want to have to stand back up just to pass her the can.

Eventually, she sits next to you (albeit, begrudgingly) and you pass the can to her, lighting it again when she puts her lips up to it. She explodes into a coughing fit the minute the smoke hits her lungs.

You can’t help but snicker at the sight of Regina George coughing her lungs out with just one hit from the can. It was almost strange to see her not perfectly arranged the way she was at school. You were up close enough to see the strings that sew her together.

She glares at you from the corner of her eye, but it only makes you laugh harder. You’re acting stupid right now and you’re aware of it, but you can’t stop. It’s a nice sort of high. Not like when you smoke too much and everything starts to blur together, which happens more than you’d like to admit. But this is nice. You lean back until your back touches the grass.

Regina has a couple more hits until she’s smoked about everything that’ll come out of it, and you both just lay there on the forest floor. You’re surprised she isn’t whining about dirt getting on her outfit. Maybe she’s too stoned to care. She never did answer your question about her tolerance.

Your thoughts go elsewhere as you stare up at the sky. The tops of the trees cover most of it. The sun from behind the leaves make them look almost as if they are glowing. It’s so beautiful. You wish you could reach up and feel it between your own fingertips, the fabric of the sky.

“You don’t care about what I think about you.” You hear Regina say, her voice only a couple of feet away from you. It sounds more like a statement than a question.

You don’t why it’s funny to you, but it is. You feel the laugh escape your lips before you can stop it.

“I guess not.” you respond, even though you’re not certain if she wanted a response. It sounded like she was just thinking out loud. You feel that.

“Everyone else does. They grovel to me like lap dogs.” she says amusingly, although her voice drags and you can tell she’s starting to get tired.

“You don’t like it?” you ask with surprise.

“It’s the way it should be,” she declares, as if you’re stupid for even asking. “But everyone else is a less hot version of me. It gets annoying talking to the same clones that hang onto my every word. Like, just be normal for once in your life,” Regina complains, an annoyed edge in her tone near the end. Somehow you could tell she was talking about Gretchen. That poor girl really did hang onto every little thing Regina said or did. It was almost worshipful. But in an unfortunate, sad kind of way.

Her problems didn’t seem all that hard compared to others, but you don’t say anything. It’s intesting to you to hear her talk about this stuff, to see what goes on in her head. You’d never really considered what her life was like. You wonder if there’s a reason she’s the way that she is. There must be. Everyone’s a product of their environment in some shape or form. Of course, it doesn’t excuse everything she’s done, but that thought makes you want to get inside her head somehow.

You shake your head at the silly train of thought. Regina George was just plain mean. Nothing more to it. You turn your head to look at her as you realize you never responded.

Her eyes are closed, hair splayed out on the forest ground. She looks stoned as fuck, her chest rising and falling dangerously slow. You snort and roll your eyes. How low was her tolerance? You already felt mostly normal again.

Somehow she still manages to look perfect, even if you could mistake her as a corpse. You lay your head back down. Your parents wouldn’t mind if you were home a little late, right?

After that, you and Regina would meet to smoke behind the school almost every day, except when Regina had plans with her friends and you would just go alone. You still wish she wasn’t there, but sometimes she’s okay to talk to when she isn’t being a priss. She complains about her friends and boys and how sometimes in the morning her eyelash curler refuses to work. It’s entertaining to hear about how shallow her problems are. You still want to punch her most of the time, though.

This time around, however, she’s complaining about math. Something about her teacher failing her on purpose or something to make her have sex with him to get her grade up. You seriously doubt that’s true, but you listen anyway.

“Like, he’s totally obsessed with me. I know how to do the work, but he always marks it as wrong anyway. That Cady girl helps me with it, and she’s some kind of math freak.” Regina exclaims, taking a huge hit from the smoking can. She immediately sputters and you take the can back from her with a slight roll of your eyes. That’s probably enough for her.

“Is she, though?” you ask, taking a hit from the can yourself. “She’s in my Calc class and lately she’s been doing really shitty. I guess you guys are rubbing off on her,” you say with amusement.

Regina takes a deep breath, an agitated sigh coming out of her. “What’s the point of her tutoring me, then? They’re gonna take me off the soccer team if I don’t start passing like all of my classes. It’s like she wants me to fail.” she seethes, and she sounds genuinely upset. She could afford to pay attention in class instead of doing her makeup if better grades is what she wants, but alas.

You kind of want to offer to help her, but it’s her own fault so you bite your tongue. You put the can down with a sharp sigh. You’d rather not smoke too much around her in fear that you’ll start acting stupid and she’ll post it all over the internet. Just the slightly more giggly high is fine for now.

Regina stares bullets through you as your stash back under the pile of leaves. You pick up your backpack and get ready to leave. You feel fine enough to walk home.

“You’re not gonna offer to help me?” she asks indignantly, as if you owed it to her. You have to bite your lip to keep from groaning in annoyance. Could she be any more of a spoiled brat?

“Why would I do that?” you respond, feeling that your distaste seeps through your voice as well as your expression. You’re tired, both from school and from hanging out with Regina for too long. You just want to go home.

“Because I’m keeping your secret?” she says with that tone that reminds you of a viper. The one she uses to get whatever she wants from people by threatening to ruin them. Your chest bubbles with that same anger as that day in the cafeteria.

“Dude, I’m literally your plug. I’ve done enough for you to keep your mouth shut.” you snap, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. She was really starting to piss you off. That’s how it was with Regina; just when you think she’s all right, she starts doing this bullshit again.

“So what? I don’t need weed. I can break our deal whenever I want. Besides, you’ll only tutor me until the end of the month. It’s not that deep.” It’s only the beginning of October, so you’d be wasting more of your time with her for the next month, but of course she doesn’t include that. God, you’re so pissed off, but what can you do? Not be able to smoke anymore? Get suspended again? You hate that she can just hang this over your head until you comply. You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as you stare at her, one of her hands on her hip and her eyebrows raised as if you’re a dog she just told to heel that won’t listen. Your hands bunch into tight fists until your knuckles turn white. You really wish you had seen her with that bruise right about now.

“Fine.” you spit, pushing your way out of the clearing and back towards the school. Great. Now it would take even longer to shake Regina off. You shoulder branches of leaves out of your way, your feet kicking at the dirt. You wished she could just be fucking normal and that she never started any of this in the first place.

“I better see you tomorrow, loser!” You hear Regina scream from somewhere behind you. God, you were gonna kill her. Or yourself. Whichever came first.

#mean girls #mean girls x reader #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george 2024 #mean girls 2024 x reader

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beskarandblasters · 1 day

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A Twisted Fantasy

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist

Summary: You masturbate while thinking about your encounter with the Ghoul.

Word count: 750

Warnings: reader refers to him as the Ghoul, reader is able-bodied, Cooper might be a little OOC but fuck it we ball, masturbation, allusions to smut, pet names (sweetheart), light canon typical violence, no use of y/n

Late at night, under the cover of the trees and the night sky, you think about him– the Ghoul.

You don’t know his name. But you don’t need to. All you know is that ever since you saw him weeks ago, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. It’s an unfortunate chain of events. You had pissed off the wrong crowd in Filly, owing them bottle caps you most definitely didn’t have.

And for that, a bounty was placed on your head. That’s when the Ghoul came into your life. But only for a fleeting moment.

You were walking the streets after dark, already a bad idea. A hand enclosed around your wrist as you were dragged into a dark alley, followed by the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of your head.

“It’ll all be over real soon, sweetheart. Be a lot easier if you didn’t resist either.”

“Please no-” you started to beg.

“I’ll have you know.. they didn’t care if you were brought in dead or alive.”

“Sir, please. I don’t have any bottle caps. I can’t-”

He spun you around you were facing him. His appearance didn’t scare you. You had encountered Ghouls before. But he was different.

He had a voice so sultry it made you melt, knees buckling underneath you. The brim of his hat hung low, covering his eyes. You were backed up against a wall, cool metal chilling your burning skin. A weird mixture of fear for what’s come and arousal coursed through your body. His gun moved to your temple while his other hand pinned your hands above your head. Fuck.

Tears welled up on your lash line, threatening to spill over. It wasn’t long before they finally rolled down your cheeks in an unstoppable flow.

“Please, sir. I don’t have anything.”

“Nothin’?” he asked, his eyes finally meeting yours as he cocked his head to the side.

You shook your head no, crying harder at the feeling of his gun against your head.

He looked conflicted, eyes betraying the words he was saying.

“Look, sweetheart… A job’s a job.”

You cried and stuck out your lip, hoping and praying for a shred of mercy. You’re a crying, pathetic mess and maybe he’ll sense that. He sighed and cursed under his breath, looking away from you and at the ground instead.

“I suppose I could say you ran off… That I need to track you down again…”

“Really?” you asked, your face lighting up.

“Maybe but only if you do exactly as I say.”

“Anything,” you nodded as he lowered his gun.

“Run as far as you can away from here,” he said, letting go of your hands.

You waited for further instructions but he shouted, “I said run!” shooing you off. “Unless you want me to change my mind.”

“No, sir!” you squeaked, running as fast as you could out of Filly.

You were thankful he spared your life but for some reason, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You replayed every time he called you sweetheart in your mind. It didn’t help that he looked just like a fucking cowboy, accent and all.

And now here you are, fingers deep in your cunt, thinking about the Ghoul. You wish he were here right now, watching you please yourself. Or better yet… you wish he were making you feel good instead.

You imagine he’d talk you through it, praising you for being such a good girl, telling you how good you take his fingers or his cock. You think about his pleasure and how long it’s probably been since he felt any. You’d take care of that for him, making him curse under his breath like he did that one night in the alley. You’d do anything he wanted if it meant he’d call you sweetheart again.

God, how twisted is this? You’re fantasizing about a mutant who had the power to take your life right there and then. But that adds to the allure, to the fantasy. You’d pretend to be his bounty any day of the week, letting him whisper in your ear as he fills you up.

Before you know it, you cum around your fingers. Waves of pleasure rush through your body as you bite your lip to muffle your moans. The disappointment of the situation settling in now. The Ghoul’s not here and you’re alone. You roll over and sigh, silently hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll cross paths again one day.

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Part two

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #cooper howard smut #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x fem!reader #the ghoul fanfiction #fallout fanfiction #fallout

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rk1stars · 2 days

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ONE KISS 𐙚 PARK SUNGHOON

(teaser!) 𐙚 .ᐟ ──── release date : april 30th (playlist)

(taglist) ──── @kookify @yizhoutv @jooniesbears-blog @dimplewonie @miyseung @cholexc

IN WHICH.. Being a grumpy high school student who fell in love with a Playboy wasn’t a bad idea right? wrong. Who knew that the park sunghoon who did everything to win your heart would break it into pieces? Guess you’ll have to leave and forget about him.

BUT WITH YOUR LUCK.. of course, he ends up in your college trying to win the heart he broke, back.

“c’mon pretty, lets just leave this shitty party and make out” Sunghoon tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear while making eye contact with Jay, your guy best friend who has an obvious crush on you.

“Oh please, it's time to give up Park” Sunghoon pouted a bit, why are you so loyal to this Jay guy? Sunghoon could treat you so much better.

“Ahh, c'mon, one kiss?” Sunghoon grinning at you while still holding your face, coloring your cheeks a slight shade of pink. Park Sunghoon, a typical cocky rich kid who always gets what he wants.

Your relationship with Sunghoon is complicated, Sunghoon will be all over you and shower you with gifts and affection but ruin it with his cocky personality and your past with him.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

“Hoon..? Whats wrong?”

Sunghoon has been different lately, he never hugged you anymore nor even acknowledged you as his girlfriend. It’ll just be him arriving home, dropping his bag, and the two of you sleeping facing away from each other.

“H-hoon..?”

Sunghoon not answering you made you worried, but Sunghoon just grabbed a bag of his and left your shared apartment.

“Let’s end this, i’m sorry” Sunghoon says quietly before looking at you one last time.

From that day, Sunghoon blocked you on all socials and completely wiped himself away from your life.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

And for some reason, now he's in your college trying to win your heart that he broke, back. He gave you snacks, designer bags, affection, and lastly, he won't leave you alone.

It was weird, he just popped into your life again and acted as if nothing happened, you wanted to smack Sunghoons pretty face so badly.

“Don’t make me smack your face, Park.”

“Please do, I’d enjoy that.”

“Ugh! Can’t you just leave me alone”

As Sunghoon sarcastically puts a finger on his chin, acting like he was thinking, he bends down to your height before holding your chin while grinning.

“Nope.”

“I wish I had a shotgun right now.” you say while moving your teeth against each other.

“That’s hot, gotta bounce babe, see ya” Sunghoon blowing you a kiss.

“Fuck you!” yelling at Sunghoon walking away.

#enhypen #starmail! ₊ ⊹#enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen smau #enhypen comfort #enha fluff #imagine #enhypen x reader #Enhypen crack #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon angst #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon fic #park sunghoon fluff

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worldofkuro · 2 days

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile V

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I think I wrote more for this chapter. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter dear readers. Let me know what you think about it.

“ You look.. dishearten, my friend”

You sighed as you looked at your friend: Alice. She was one of the first female friends you made 6 years ago at school. She was one of the sweetest girls you have ever met. She had long blonde locks with beautiful sapphire eyes, her voice sounded like a siren’s song. You were proud to be her friend, almost all of the boys who laid their eyes upon her were almost falling to their knees ready to propose to her.

“ I have no idea what to do for Alastor’s birthday.” you sighed “ no idea of a present.”

Alice clapped in her hand with a big grin and you couldn’t help but scoff at her radiance. She always loved when you were talking about yours and Alastor’s relationship. You didn’t really know why but she wanted to meet him. Well… yes, you knew why. Alastor was … He was…

“ How old is he ?” she asked you as she drank her cup of tea.

“ Well, he is going to turn seventeen. So I want to make him something special.” you sighed once again as you laid your cup of hot chocolate on the table.

“ How long have you known each other ? “

“ Almost eight years.” you smiled fondly. Eight years. You’ve been friends with Alastor for eight years and you have loved every single year. You looked into your cup of hot chocolate, the colour reminded you of Alastor’s eyes. Alastor wasn’t a little boy anymore, he had become taller. Taller than you, his frame was more muscular thanks to his hunting trip, he had become more teasing, sneakier, and cunnier but the biggest problem was… He had become so handsome. He lost his chubby cheeks, now his jaw was sharp, his eyes were even more intense than before when he was interested in something, he was–

“ Should I let you alone with your chocolate~?” you jerked your head toward Alice who had a teasing smile on her lips. You chuckled while shaking your head, blushing a little. You daydreamed again ! “ Why do you not want me to meet him, I really want to meet your beau, you know? I have never seen you like this, never did someone make you react like this.”

“ Listen… He is.. an important childhood friend and he can be … intense sometimes. I don’t think you could handle him.” you said as you sipped your drink. You didn’t feel comfortable making Alastor and Alice meet. You knew that Alastor could be an ass sometimes and Alice was too sweet to … understand it ? “ But back to the topic, what should I give him for his birthday …”

“ From what you told me, he seems to really care about you, and with this war going on, I’m sure he’d rather you kept your money.” she smiled at you as you bit your lips. That was the problem. Alastor was going to be 17 years, next year he would turn 18. That means he … would be taken to war right? You felt yourself getting paler as many scenarios went inside your head.

The only good news was that his father had been dragged to war, unfortunately just like yours, meaning that Alastor and Marie were finally alone in their house. After the hunting’s trip’s accident eight years ago, you’ve never trusted his father again. Many times you went to Marie’s house and each time her husband was home you could feel the tension lingering in the air. When he was here, you and Alastor would go outside, play with Husker, play tag or hide and seek.

Alastor never really talked about his father, but you could sense that he hated him. But you didn’t know why and one day, you tried to push on the subject, you wanted to help him in any way possible.

This was the first time Alastor had raised his voice at you.

“ Are you okay?” you lifted your head toward your friend. “ He won’t go to war, from what the paper says, it seems like it’s going to end soon!” she smiled at you as she took your hand in hers. You sighed, praying that you would never have to send Alastor to war. Alastor has tried to reassure you by saying that if he were to go to war, he would be an amazing soldier.

War is like a big hunt.

“ Yes, yes… I think I’m going to go home. I need to finish some homework and I don’t want to leave my mother alone.”

“ Did Delilah steal your work again?”

“ I think, but who cares, I’ll just do it again… Well, your beautifulness, might I walk you home?” you bowed as she laughed and you began to walk toward the richest quartier of New Orleans. You gossiped with Alice about what happened during this school’s week. She was so sure John was interested in pursuing a relationship with you. You rolled your eyes at her, she always liked love’s story.

You did too, you weren’t going to lie, but when you thought about your future with a husband… You thought about–

“ Well, here we are! Are you sure you don’t want to stay here, I made cupcakes this morning!” she exclaimed with a big grin. You smiled at her, saying you really needed to go home.

You waved her goodbye and walked home. You tried to make your way home quickly, if you were lucky, a letter from your father would be waiting for you at home. You had prayed each day that once the stupid war was over, he would come back alive. You opened your house’s door and went inside, hurrying toward the living room. Did your father sended you a letter ?

“ Look who’s here~”

You turned around with a big smile, feeling your heart thumb loudly in your chest. How could he make you react like this everytime?

“ Alastor !” You hugged him before kissing him on both cheeks. Alastor had stopped flinching when you were touching him, even more surprising , he was very clingy with you. Always being in your personal space like he owned it.

“ Seems like someone drank hot chocolate but didn't bother wiping her mouth.” he wiped your bottom lips with his gloved hand. You flushed as he stared at your mouth, keeping his finger on your lips. You could see your own reflection in his glasses. Unlike before, you couldn’t read Alastor as easily as when he was a child, unless you were alone together and mister decided to be “vulnerable” with you. But you… You always felt safe and most of all, you felt seen.

Alastor always had a glint in his eyes when he was looking at you. You’ve never seen him look at something or someone else like this… And you liked it. Was it selfish to crave his attention… maybe not. You both were friends, special friends, childhood friends… But, Oh Lord, sometimes you craved more, but you didn’t know what. If Alastor was looking at you like this as a friend, how would he look at his future wife?

“ Oh my dear, you look starving.”

You gasped as you took a step back while Alastor was smirking at you, his arms folded behind his back. You stuck your tongue to him, like you used to, you were maybe a young lady now, but with Alastor you were… yourself.

“ Young lady ! Didn’t I tell you to stop sticking your tongue ! I’m sorry, Alastor.” said your Mother while Marie, who was just behind her, was laughing behind her hand. “ Good Lord, when you both are together you are back to being children, God preserve me.” she sighed as she went into the kitchen.

“ Yes, listen to your Mother. Keep your tongue inside your pretty mouth.” teased Alastor as he sat on the sofa with his usual mocking smile. “ Now my dear, do you have news to share with me?”

You sat on the other side of the sofa and began to gossip as you usually did. There weren’t any microphones or notes like when you were children, but it was the same as your broadcast like you used to do in his bedroom. Just you and Alastor, gossiping about your daily life.

“ And then Alice said that John was interested in me but I think he just–”

“ Should I be alarmed ? It’s not the first time I heard this name ?” teased Alastor as he took off his glasses to clean them with a tissue from his chest pocket.

“ Which one? Alice? She wants to meet you…” you mumbled and tensed when you saw Alastor’s smile.

“ Well, why didn't you say so! I would be delighted to meet the darling that blesses my sweet little friend with her presence when I’m not here!” he exclaimed as he stood up. You jumped off the sofa as you forced him to sit back down.

“ No Alastor !”

“ Oh come on my dear, do you want to keep me all to yourself ? How bold.” he smiled as he watched you struggle to keep him sitting. You groaned and decided to just sit on his lap to keep him from standing up. So there you were on your knees on each side of his thighs. You heard him inhale deeply, his hand gripping the sofa. Don’t blushed, don’t blushed, don’t blushed…

“ How bold, indeed, dear…” he stared at you, without his glasses. There it was. That glint. The one who made you… Feeling strange. You didn’t know if you were scared or…or what? There was something lingering in the air... He opened his mouth but you cut him off.

“ What do you want for your birthday ?”

His body tensed for a second, staring straight at you before he relaxed himself and laughed, tilting his head backward. He shook his head as he rolled his eyes.

“ Well, just like always. Celebrating with you and Mother. What could I ask for more?” he smiled at you but as you tried to stand up from his thighs, he grabbed your waist and pulled you near his face. “ Should we invite John?”

“ Who–? Wait, John? Why?” you frowned as you looked at his smile which seemed tense. He was grabbing your waist tighter now. His grip should hurt you but.. it was oddly comfortable. Why did he suddenly change–?

“ Wait… Are you jealous?” you smiled as you saw his smile twitched. “ Yes, yes, you are. Haha !” you laughed hoping you sounded mocking, but even to your ears, you almost sounded pleased, relieved. You squeaked as he pinned you to the sofa and began to tickle you. You squirmed as your laughter was getting louder and louder, gasping for air.

“ Do you remember the rules, dear?” he asked with a cunning smile, knowing perfectly that you couldn’t answer right now. “ Rule number one: Never drop your guard.” he stopped tickling you “ Go on dear. Rule number two?” he tilted his head toward you, staring at your red and teary face.

“ You are the strongest here.” you gasped as you tried to wipe your tears that threatened to stream down your face but Alastor holded both of your wrist in one hand.

“ Rule number three.”

“ I give up…” you breathed as you closed your eyes. You felt his head next to yours, his lips almost touching your ears.

“ Give up yourself to me.”

Your eyes opened suddenly, feeling your body being hot. You looked at Alastor who was above you but he seemed confused. He tilted his head as he watched your expression.

“ Are you okay, you look almost as red as Eamon ?” he laughed at you as he stood up, putting his glasses back on.

“ What did you just say?” you asked, your voice a mere whisper.

“... You look almost as red as Eamon?” you shook your head as you sat up and stared at him. He seemed really confused, did you imagine this? Is it what you wanted to hear? You groaned as you hid your face in your head, it was because of Alice’s stories, your mind was playing tricks on you now! “ By the way dear, it seems like you have a letter.” he said as he held a letter to you. It was from your father !

You took the letter from his hand with a happy grin, the letter was already open, surely your mother, and read what your father wanted you to know. He was okay, he missed you but mostly there were rumors about how the war will be soon over. you sighed in relief. Your father would come home. You just knew it. You looked at Alastor who was observing your face.

“ You still have no news from your father?”

“ No, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been killed for insubordination.” he said with detachment as he looked at his nails. You nodded before turning your head toward the entrance where you heard a knock. You stood up and went to open the door and froze.

“ Alice ?”

“ I’ll be quick, you forgot your bag at the coffee shop.” she smiled as she held your bag toward you.

“ How… But… You went back to the coffee shop?”

“No, no, a gentleman came to my door and asked if the bag was mine.”

“ Alice… A man came to your door with my bag and you are not worried ? How did he know where you lived ? Does that mean he followed us?” you forced her to enter your house, looking outside “ What does he look like?” You squealed as you were jerked inside the house by your dress. You turned to see Alastor who was staring at you, with a pissed expression, his smile still present.

“ Are you dumb? If there is a man who is following you, why would you show your face, confirming that you are living here.” he asked you coldly. You closed the door quickly.

“ The man isn’t here for me, if he is here. He didn’t follow me, he followed her.” you pointed to Alice. “ You can understand that, I mean, look at her.”

You watched as Alastor looked at Alice. You couldn’t see his face but you saw Alice’s who seemed to try to make herself even smaller than she was. He shook her hand with his usual charming smile you guessed.

“ Quite a pleasure to be meeting you, I’ve heard a lot of you. You seemed like a clever woman, I would have never guessed that you would walk down the street with a soon to be stalker at your feet, bringing this man to my dear friend’s door!”

“ N-nice to be meeting you, sir. I’m.. I’m sorry..?” Alice stared at you, begging you with her eyes to do something. You sighed, you have told her Alastor was intense.

“ No, no, No need to be sorry. It is not your fault, but the gentleman’s one. You both shouldn’t stay outside alone.”

“ Alastor, maybe we are overthinking. Maybe he was a nice gentleman–”

“ Oh my friend, hush.” he turned to Alice “ What did he look like?”

You watched as Alice described the man’s appearance. You were dumbfounded. Did Alastor just shush you? You crossed your arms on your chest as you pouted, watching both of your friends talking. They looked good together… You bit your lips. No. Alice wouldn’t be able to stay an entire day with Alastor. You stomped your foot on the floor and you clapped your hand together.

“ Well, dear friends of mine, go into the living room, I'll go with some drinks.”

“ No, no, I won’t bother you any longer. I’m going home.”

“ I’ll accompany you.Stay here.”

You stared in shock as Alastor went into the kitchen where your mothers were. Did he just say what you thought he said? Alice came closer to you and winked at you.

“ He seems like a good man, keep it up.”

Alastor came back with his jacket on, he opened the door for Alice and left without kissing you goodbye. You stared at the closed door. Did Alastor fall for Alice, like every boy she met? You ran to your room, and jumped on your bed, burying your face in your pillow. Did he really leave, leaving his mother? you threw your pillow on the wall.

“ To hell with him ! I don’t need him.” you said as you wiped the tears that you haven’t even felt falling down your cheeks. You went to the bathroom, ignoring your mother and Marie’s question about your teary eyes. You washed up, put on a nightgown and went into your bed. You stared at the wall before closing your eyes. You couldn’t fall asleep, you were imaginiting Alice and Alastor walking down the road, hands in hands. You felt tears whelming up in your eyes. You didn’t care! You didn’t!

You didn’t know how long you kept thinking about it but you were still awake when you felt a hand stroking your cheeks. You sighed , nuzzling your cheek against the hand. You guessed your mother was coming to comfort you even though she didn’t know why you were upset.

“ Dear friend, why are you crying?”

You sat up immediately and stared at the person in front of you.

“ Alastor…Why are you here?” you asked as you held the cover against you. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Crying over him. You were too proud. And you weren’t crying for him!

“ Well, I came to give you your kiss, dummy.” he approached his face toward you, staring at your eyes. “ But why are you crying? Is it because of the man?” his eyes went cold, his smile widened but there was no warmth like usual. He seemed.. menacing. “ Did he come here? Did he touch you? Where?”

You just stared at him as tears were falling down your cheeks. It seemed like seeing you cry made him more and more upset.

“ This bastard was here? I fucking walked your little friend home so I could see if someone was lingering around here and that bastard had the nerve to come and–”

You didn’t know what came over you, you covered his face with your blanket and you kissed the place where the blanket covered his lips. He froze. You pressed your lips against the tissue and then slowly, stepped back. You stared at him, his face still covered…

“ No.. I was just… afraid that you would leave me for Alice.” you whispered looking at his frame. Seeing that he didn’t remove the blanket, you understood that… he knew that both of you would not be talking about what is happening right now. “ She is a beautiful lady, and she is interesting, sweet… a perfect lady you would say.”

“ Don’t put words in my mouth dear.” You chuckled as he moved his hand toward your cheek, wiping your tears away. “ So, you thought she was going to take me away from you? How absurd. Nothing could tear me away from you, not even yourself.”

You stopped breathing at this confession, your heart beating even stronger. You didn’t know what to do with all of your feelings. You were just so relieved that Alastor saw your friendship like you did.

“ Can I take off your blanket now?”

You laughed and uncovered his face, his warm smile was back, his glint in his eyes even more present. You looked away, fidgeting with your nightgown. You needed to erase the tension quickly.

“ You look like an absolute mess my dear friend! I’ll let you rest and please, do get your beauty sleep unless you want to crack every mirror you shall see.” he laughed as you tried to hit him with a pillow. He kissed you on the forehead, giggling before leaving your bedroom. “ See you soon, doll~!”

You fell on your bed with a big smile and hid your face into your pillow.

You didn’t know what happened but it made your feel better.

Tag List: lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 days

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML

AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.9K+

☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Can I kiss you, Sugar?”

You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive.

This moment is no different.

The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head.

Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years.

He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained.

You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way.

Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss.

“Are you sure you want thi-”

“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”

You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future.

You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now.

His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they?

“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.”

You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.

Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair.

You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home.

It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks.

“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads.

He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared.

It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment.

You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.”

Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance.

Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain.

You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him.

All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his.

The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret.

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”

You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere.

One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter.

“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”

All the air leaves your lungs.

There will be no mistakes tonight.

“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone.

It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it.

“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be.

Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call.

“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.”

Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it.

You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile.

He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight.

You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize.

Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.

You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised.

But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then.

“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down.

“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”

You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear.

He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.

“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it.

“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.”

It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you.

“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.

You can’t do this.

You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away.

It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption.

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”

“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”

“Who’s we?” he cuts you off.

We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we?

But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption.

All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.

How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?

Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.”

“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.”

This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened.

Except you don’t.

Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it.

You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours.

You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on.

The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man.

He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses.

Always have, always will.

Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined.

Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into.

You’d forgotten just how well you know him.

It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind.

Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens.

Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him.

You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core.

You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response.

“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.”

“Please what, Sugar?”

“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-”

No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command.

Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention.

You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now.

Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day.

Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned.

By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water.

“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would.

You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer.

His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago.

“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up.

Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night.

“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.”

You mean more than just the sex.

The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does.

The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again.

You don’t know when the tears started.

But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet.

“Then I say let it burn.”

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.”

You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use.

“When I get back, all I care about is you.”

It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains.

“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you.

It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable.

They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die.

And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.

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