#he's gonna hurt his neck with the dramatic hair flips | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skylarsblue · 1 month

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★Sugar Cube★

★Red Dead Redemption★ ★Fem!Reader cause I was having a fem! day, use of Y/N(sorry), fluff, a tiny bit of hurt/comfort at the end, silly drunk Arthur at the start, I don't think there's sexual tension here but I could be wrong. The autism has overtaken me and he is all I think about, the depression wave is only kept at bay by this man.★ ★The border in the story is @fairytopea 's, if you'd like me to remove it I will :3★

The world rocked back and forth, a haze over the rolling fields of grass. Arthur slumped his head down a bit, looking at trees passing by. He had to be running, he was pretty sure walking didn’t make the world move so fast. This speed was extraordinary! Since when could he run so fast? He used to be quick in his youth, but nearing forty, his knees had really aged poorly. But here he was, zipping down a dirt road with agility, wind blowing past his face. With such grace too. Then, suddenly a bump, and he felt himself tilt dramatically to the side. Two long blinks and horse hooves hitting the ground came to his ears. He looked forward, seeing his trusty steed he’d been bonding with the past week dodging a tree to continue up the path. Arthur groaned a little and pulled himself right, then he leaned forward, weighed down by his own head. It was bumpy, but he rested his cheek on the horse’s neck, humming in a moment of peace when feeling the horse’s fur rubbed against his stubble. It was soft and warm. He always liked that about horses.

“Heheh, nice horsey.” He slurred, patting the horse’s side. It snorted, slowing down to a prance as the trees became thicker. Arthur continued petting the horse’s fur when it occurred to him that he was saying ‘it’. “Ah you’re not some random horse. Nah nah, I named you, right? Uh…what was it…” He mumbled, looking at the light brown color of the Clydesdale horse. A dusty color. Arthur gasped, a bit choked by his own saliva. “Dusty! That’s what I named ya! Ahh, Dusty you’re the best horse this side o’ the country.” He laid against her again, listening to her snort again, which made him let out a fit of giggles. Deep, short laughs that erupted from his chest. He looked around at the trees, and despite his fuzzy brain, he was able to pick out a landmark.

“Buh, camp. They're gonna make me go do some…stupid…tedious chore or somethin’.” The honey-brown haired man pouted. He huffed out a breath as Dusty went under a broken, spiky tree, approaching a lantern lit spot full of tents. The sun was setting. Dusty stomped past the horse ties and more toward the middle of the camp, catching the attention of some of the gang.

“Arthur Morgan, what the hell are you doin’?!”

Arthur winced at the shrill yell. He blinked slowly, looking in its direction, finding Miss O’Shea stood with her hands situated on her hips and a scowl ever present. He sat up slowly, hands grabbing the saddle so he wouldn’t fall, given how wobbly he was. “Heeyyy, Miss O’Sheaaa. Evenin’.” He nodded, though his head didn’t really come up afterward. The woman scoffed and tossed her hands up in exasperation, falling back to her sides with a smack sound. Lenny snickered from his place at the table. “You have fun at the saloon, Morgan?!” Javiar shouted to him. The man nodded again. The men laughed as O’Shea yelled for him to get down. He almost did until she called him a moron.

“‘Ey! I ain’t no moron! I’m quite smart, I’ll have you know.” He pointed, only for the loss of a stability point to send him leaning forward again. Dusty brayed as he landed against her neck once more. Arthur heard some more laughs from the picnic table but he didn’t open his eyes again. “Arthur Morgan, get your sorry ass off the horse.” She said again, and Arthur replied with a discontent grunt. “‘er name is Dusty, first o’ all. And two, no. Cause you called me a moron.” He replied defiantly, ending his sentence with a small hiccup. O’Shea blinked in awe at the utter sass as Arthur flipped his head over to keep from looking at her.

“Dutch, will you get your boy?” She motioned at the horse. Dutch chuckled around his cigar and held up his hands. “What makes you think he’ll listen to me? He’s a brat when he’s drunk.” He shrugged.

“Who’s drunk?” A sweetened voice asked. Walking around a tent with a bucket of water settled on her hip. “Arthur’s bein’ a brat.” Miss O’Shea huffed. Y/N set the bucket down and looked toward the horse, watching the rough and steely outlaw hum a tune while petting his companion, giggling quietly to himself when Dusty stamped a hoof into the ground and huffed. She laughed quietly behind her hand, watching him hug Dusty and mutter slurred praises. “Ah, I see, he’s drunk.” She nodded. “Drunk and ornery. We need him somewhat put together by tomorrow, so he needs to sleep this off, but the moron won’t get off the damn horse!” O’Shea shouted back at him. “Dusty!” He called back, more concerned about the respect to his horse than himself. Y/N giggled and shook her head. “You’re never gonna get him to listen with all that hollerin’. The way to get a stubborn boy to listen is to sweet talk’im. Lemme try.” She patted O’Shea on the shoulder before walking up to the Clydesdale.

“Arthur, hun, can ya look at me?” She asked. In an instant, he turned his head to look at her, and a goofy grin appeared across his face. “Heyyy, how’re you?” He asked. Y/N smiled up at him, feeling a sense of fondness bursting in her chest. She’d always been fond of Arthur, perhaps to the point of blatant favoritism. She didn’t really hide it either. While she might’ve been generally kind and helpful to the gang as a whole, it wasn’t hard to see when she gave him special treatment. When washing or fixing clothes, she’d take his without him asking, while she’d put up some resistance with the rest. When a petty argument broke out between him and someone else, she’d only really get onto the other party for saying something untoward, while Arthur’d get something half-heartedly scolding. “Let’s try to keep the peace, m’kay? Why don’t’cha go sit down and relax?” While someone like Micha got chewed up like a dog with a bone. Though, honestly, Micha probably had it coming most of the time.

She never outright denied her general adoration for the man, though she never explained it either. Maybe it was because he’d been the one to find her, help her out of the mess she’d been in. Or maybe it was because he was so helpful to her, to everyone. Or, perhaps, she just thought he was pretty. Could’ve been all of the above, really.

“I’m doin’ fine. You look like you could be doin’ better.” Y/N replied. He waved a hand with a light-hearted scoff. “Nah I’m fiiinne.” He went to get off the horse, dismounting with a wobble. He held his hands out in front of him to catch himself, and she readied to catch him if he went backwards instead, even if he was probably too heavy for her to carry. Thankfully, he stood upright, and pivoted with a smile. “See? Fine.” He said, as if he’d actually proven something. Y/N tilted her head and fought off some giggles, unlike the men at the table watching it all. “Sure, Arthur. How bout we get you lied down, hm?” She suggested, gently resting her hand on his arm to help keep him steady. Arthur shook his head and waved his hand dismissively again.

“Naaah nah, y’all got work to finish, I should help.” He said. Y/N sighed, her free hand coming to rest on her hip. O’Shea rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I told you. Ain’t got no sense when he’s drunk.” The woman complained. Y/N held up a hand, silently telling her to settle down and give her a moment. If there was one thing Arthur was, it was a real bitter life. All iron and blood-soaked palms, tarnished leather and black coffee. It was how he’d been raised, and while it wasn’t something he’d grown to dislike, something being familiar didn’t necessarily make it pleasant. Y/N had seen peeks of something softer.

How tender his voice was when calming a horse, or how careful his lines were when he sketched a landscape, and how gentle his gaze got when left with a moment of peace. All these little moments of softness to help some part of him to stay alive, keep himself from turning into nothing but a selfish, shallow husk. But keeping it alive on his own had to be tough. Y/N had always been the caring type, even when it got her into dangerous situations. She’d grown less naive, but not less sensitive, and that need to let life flourish was something she held onto dearly. Be it a garden or a man who probably hadn’t had a hug in Lord knows how long.

“I think it’s real nice you wanna help, but ain’t you been doin’ a lot recently?” Y/N asked. Her voice was softer, sweeter, and it caught Arthur’s attention almost immediately. “Uh, well…” He trailed off and leaned into her hand, now giving a gentle squeeze to the tense muscle of his shoulder. “All that runnin’ ‘round, pickin’ up the slack. All kinds of stuff you barely got thanked for. Don’t’cha deserve a little rest? Even just a nap?” She asked. His shoulders loosened the more she spoke, like he was being lulled to sleep with a lullaby.

The blue eyed man hummed quietly, then began to nod slowly. “Yeah…Yeah I do a lot, don’t I? I guess a lil rest wouldn’t hurt.” He mumbled. Y/N smiled and slid her hand down to his, holding it carefully, despite the rough calluses and scars. With a cautious pull, she began to lead him, stumbling toward his tent. “I think you’re exactly right. So why don’t we get you situated for bed, hm? Maybe I’ll talk Dutch into gettin’ you some extra hours in the mornin’.” She said. With a look over her shoulder, she grinned proudly at the onlookers. That being the boys at the table, Dutch, and Miss O’Shea. All either with smiles of their own or agape mouths. She snickered before turning her attention back to Arthur, helping him duck into his tent and meander up to his cot.

He sat down with a grunt. “There ya go, ain’t that nicer than standin’?” She asked, reaching to remove his hat from his head. Arthur gave a noncommittal noise back, blinking slowly, trying to remove the haze in his vision. He was very sleepy all of a sudden, and his limbs felt oddly heavy. After dusting some dirt from his hat and setting it down, she pushed the strands of hair that’d fallen in his face out of the way. His hair had grown a bit, starting to reach the lower part of his neck. He let out a shaky exhale when her nails dragged over his scalp, and the sound brought a sorrowful feeling to her heart. It was something so small and quick, and yet it had such an effect. She hesitated to pull her hand back, playing it off as her fixing his hair a bit more as he fought to stay awake. “How bout we get you ready for bed, hm?” Y/N whispered. He peeked up at her, eyelids heavy and barely open to gaze at her features. Even in the dark her face made him feel warm, fuzzy, much like the alcohol he’d imbibed. He gave her a slow nod, yawning as she untied the handkerchief from around his neck. He helped the best he could, using the toe of his right boot to kick off the left one, then repeated the process for the other one. “Think you can manage your belt, hun?” She asked. He looked down at the golden buckle, as if actually considering if he could manage it, before he nodded and gave an affirmative grunt. She laughed under her breath as he struggled for a moment, picking up his boots in order to move them aside, lest he trip over them in the morning.

He managed, with a mild struggle, to get his belt undone and off. She took it from him and set it aside, being sure to remove his gun. He always kept it beside his bed or under his pillow, and she was going to honor that personal rule. “You need anything else, sweetheart?” Y/N asked, approaching him once again. She stood in front of him, close enough to touch, though his hands remained in his lap. She was dimly lit by a burning lantern in the far corner, running low on oil. His head felt heavy, but he forced his chin upward to look at her more. He opened his mouth, though words didn’t leave it. She smiled so sweetly, tucking his bangs back, watching him melt under it.

“Poor thing, all rusty steel and splitterin’ wood, ain’t no one takin’ care of you. You gotta be exhausted.” She said, letting his chin fall into her palm, supporting the weight for him, much to his endearment. He closed his eyes as she stroked his cheek with her thumb, undeterred by the roughness of his stubble. “Ain’t ever been rich enough for sugar.” He grumbled, words still a bit garbled, tongue tied from liquor. She clicked her tongue sympathetically. He unintentionally leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest on her sternum. She shifted her positioning for him to be more comfortable, hands coming up to the back of his head and neck. He just about groaned when she lightly scratched his scalp, and oh how delighted she felt at it. Though how much he’d been deprived of this hurt her heart, the fact he was letting her make up for it felt all the nicer. She’d take bittersweet as a middle ground.

“Arthur.” She cooed his name, getting a grunt in response. She moved her hands to help him tilt his head up to look at her, met with a sleepy gaze, black pupils overtaking the blue she’d come to favor. “Tell ya what,” She began. “Whenever you get sick of the bitter world, and you want a little break, you come tell me. You can get all the sugar ya want, ‘kay? Everyone deserves a little sweetness here and there.” She offered. He stared at her, limp in relaxation. He hummed. “Ya sure?” He asked, feeling her gently guide him off of her and down to the bed. She propped his head on the pillow, putting his hands over his torso. “Mhm, absolutely positive.” She affirmed, covering him with the quilt rolled up at the end of the bed. She gave him another scratch to his temple, seeing as he liked it so much. His eyes fluttered closed, sighing. “Mm, alrighty, I’ll keep that in mind.” He replied, words hushed. “Good, now get some rest, cowboy. You’re gonna need it.” She cooed again. He was out quickly, allowing her to admire him for a moment. He was plastered, she doubted he’d remember any of the conversation they’d just had. But she wouldn’t mind repeating it to him anyway, since she meant it wholeheartedly. Perhaps a little selfishly, she pecked his forehead before leaving his tent, not missing the unconscious smile it got from him.

He hadn’t forgotten. Not the core parts of the night, anyway. Even when he’d woken up with a blasting headache thumping behind his eyes, trying to piece together everything. He remembered the majority of her words, and he couldn’t forget the feeling of her warmth, and the delicate way she spoke. And it humiliated him for the entire morning, but even when he was visibly ashamed she was sweet.

He’d sat up on his cot and put his head in his hands, grumbling to himself about how stupid he was. Flushed across his cheeks and up to his ears. Maybe if he asked John to help him, he could dig a hole and bury himself in it, the man owed him anyway. He called himself a fool, only to hear a giggle that forced his heart to a stop. With a wince, he glanced to the side between his fingers. Of course, there she stood, illuminated by the morning sun, holding a steaming cup of coffee. “A foolish decision doesn’t necessarily make a fool, Mr.Morgan. It’s several foolish decisions that make a pattern, then, that makes a fool.” She said, stepping into the tent. He slid his hands off his face and hesitantly took the cup she held out to him. She was trying to make him feel better, he knew that, and damn it worked.

“How’s your head feelin’, cowboy?” Y/N asked. He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. He could feel his heartbeat in the sockets, and the sunlight certainly wasn’t helping. He heard her chuckle as he sipped at the drink. It’s warmth nothing compared to hers, and shamefully, he wished to feel the heat of her palm on his face again, sober this time. “Asked Charles to grab some tea when he and Hosea had into town today, always helped me with headaches when I had it. I’ll make you a lil if it doesn’t settle soon.” She promised. He thanked her quietly, feeling her pat his shoulder. His tongue felt like metal in his mouth, weighing down the words he needed to use. He swallowed as she pivoted to leave, and he felt his chest tighten as she did.

Y/N paused when he coughed a little too poignantly. She looked over her shoulder, finding him fidgety and shy as he looked at the ground. “Yes, Arthur?” She asked, turning to look at him again. How sweet it was when he could only manage a quick glance before his cheeks flushed again. “I uh, ahem, last night…” He started, bouncing his leg slightly. She nodded and motioned for him to continue. He took in a deep breath. “You uh, you offered uhm…” He was so bad at words, it was one of his many faults. Either he spoke before he thought, or he used the wrong word and messed up the entire sentence, or he’d choke on whatever he wanted to say and they’d get sick of waiting, making him lose an opportunity. She had patience though, and let out another breathy laugh. Fond and kind, not mocking.

“I offered you sugar, yes. I said you could ask, whenever ya wanted, and I wouldn’t mind.” Y/N reiterated. He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at the coffee in the little mug in his other hand. “So, uh, does that offer-” “It still applies when you’re sober, mister. Don’t worry.” She confirmed. Arthur swallowed. It felt like syrup, thick and encompassing, making him sluggish. He was still aware of the spiking pain in his skull, and while he knew it was his own fault, he would’ve loved relief. Even if he didn’t deserve it, to feel her nails gently pet at his head again sounded like heaven. He was a man of pride, and as mean as he could be, all rough and guarded, he still had a boyish sense of timidness when asking for something so nice. But she offered, and he wasn’t sure when he’d get another chance. He’d been told before he needed to get better at knowing when he waited too long, and when he went too quick. Now, he hoped he was picking right.

“I uh…this coffee’s kinda harsh.” He held up the cup a little awkwardly. Y/N blinked before her expression softened, and he felt like ice under the heat of a fire as she walked back to him slowly. “That right?” She asked. Arthur cleared his throat and nodded. “Little harsh on the headache ‘s all.” He replied quietly. She tilted her head before her hand rose up, finding its place on his temple. With a little pressure from her thumb, she rubbed small circles, and it helped ease the ache. “So you’d prefer somethin’ a little sweeter, huh?” She asked. His shoulders loosened, and like the night before, his eyelids grew heavy. He nodded slowly, sighing when she lightly scratched at his scalp. “I got’cha.” She whispered, using both her hands to help combat the headache, even rubbing around his eyes, where it hurt the most. At this rate, he might not even need the tea she’d offered. However long she stood there, he relished all of it, the coffee growing colder by the second. When her hands finally stopped, coming to rest on his shoulders, his headache hadn’t vanished but was far more tolerable.

“How’re you feelin’?” She asked. Arthur stared up at her sleepily, face lax, and if you’d asked her, she’d say he seemed drunk again. “Better.” He confirmed. Y/N grinned, giving the muscle of his shoulder a light squeeze. Then her name was called. She winced and looked back at him. “I gotta help fix that wagon Micha’s idiotic ass broke.” She huffed, and he snickered. “I’ll be alright. Thank ya.” He replied. Y/N couldn’t stop grinning, and she was certain her expression showed her adoration, not like she was trying to hide it. “Alrighty then. Just lemme know if ya need anythin’.” She rose her hand to his hair, mussing it up this time. He groaned and went to fix it, listening to her giggle as she left the tent. He caught a glimpse of her right before she disappeared from line of sight, sighing when she was gone. He was a little too familiar with the ache he had to follow her.

“Shit.” He sighed, raising the coffee to his lips again. This time, he winced at the taste. Maybe he wasn’t as into bitterness as he thought he was.

From that day on, he progressively got more and more needy for a shot of something full of sucrose. It was subtle most of the time, mostly to avoid all the teasing the rest of the gang would undoubtedly give. But he’d started to ask even when others were around, and oh how it helped, even on the worst day.

On the third day since he’d arrived drunk off his ass, he’d muttered something about he and his horse missing sugarcubes on hard days. He’d been battered around by mother nature trying to get fish for that night’s dinner, laughed at by Javiar because a trout jumped out the damn river and smacked him in the face. Then Dusty caught sight of a snake in the grass on the way back, turned too quick, and had him slide off the side into the dirt, scraped up his elbow and dent the bill of his hat.

She’d heard him and paused what she was doing, turning to him with that gaze full of sympathy. She used her foot to pull over a stool beside her, motioning with her head for him to sit. When he did, she carried on with her task, but did her best to keep her hand somewhere on his back, caressing light circles in his shoulders as she recounted how grateful she’d been for what he’d done the past week. Unashamedly inflating his ego, and oh how it helped, having him leaning on the table as he listened to her praises.

Then a week passed and he’d gotten caught in the rain, without his horse. It’d been his fault for thinking a walk was a good idea when he knew the clouds in the distance spelled out a storm, but he’d been so sure he could’ve made it back in time. Of course, he didn’t, and he arrived back into camp soaking wet and muddied. The rain had turned to a light sprinkle but he was dripping water and scowling. He’d nearly punched Micha’s jaw off when the man took joy in his misery, until he caught sight of Y/N sewing a hole in Karen’s tights under cover. She saw his sorry state, and just like before, gave him a smile. An aura of ‘you poor thing’ that made him want to curl up in her lap. As if he wasn’t a grown man with more than a few bounties to his name.

He’d trudged over with an expression more akin to a pout than a scowl. She looked up at him as he stood, dripping water. “You know, before the storm hit, I cleaned some of your clothes. Should be dry by now. I even had some of that scented soap left, lavender.” She said. Arthur sighed and nodded, he hadn’t said it, but she knew the ‘thank you’ was in his mind. He went off to his tent, finding the clothes she was talking about laid out and ready for him. The anger that’d built up began to dwindle as he changed into them, hanging them up along with his hat before he made his way back to her.

She looked up from sewing and smiled. She grabbed the stack of clothes she was tasked with sewing and moved them aside, offering up the space beside her. He sat down close enough, their knees touched, sighing when she patted his leg. “Good job today.” She said. Three words, and it made him sink down, eased and peaceful. He muttered his gratitude and listened to her hum a tune, sound mixing with the sound of water hitting the earth.

By the second week, he’d grown accustomed to asking a little more blatantly. Asking if she had anything sweet after dinner, if she knew how much sugar cost at the shop, if she knew of anything candied to chase down the burn of some whiskey. Each time, she’d reply casually, but sneak in her tender touches and merciful gaze. She’d give him a once over and always knew just how much sugar to pour into his cup. On days where he only needed a little, she’d give him encouraging praise and a pat on the back, enough to keep his chin held high. On worse days, she’d overload it, allowing him to lean his head against her as she distracted him from his day with recountings of her own. Oh, and petting his hair, he always seemed to like that.

It’d really gotten more obvious to the gang. Leading to some teasing and hushed conversations, mostly the girls asking if they were sweet on one another. Arthur had flushed bright red, though it’d been hidden by a light sunburn, and waved his hand. Talking over them to make it clear he didn’t wanna hear it. While Y/N, mysterious as always, had shrugged with a cheeky grin and sauntered off. Really, it wasn’t hard to realize why they’d ask. Tilly said she’d seen Y/N look at him like he’d helped raise the sun every morning, Mary-Beth replied with Arthur’s pension for drawing her when he thought no one was looking. A whole page spread dedicated to her, she claimed. Though, none of them were quite foolish enough to try and nab his journal to look and confirm. But, Karen did like the sight of it. As brazen as she could be, she’d always loved romance in books, and she wouldn’t lie and say that the interactions weren’t entertaining.

She slipped her theories to Dutch when she overheard he’d be sending Arthur into a town just past Valentine to check around, see if he could find anything useful. He wasn’t sure who to send with the boy, even if Arthur was pretty capable on his own. Dutch wasn’t one for match-making, and he didn’t like meddling in romantic affairs, not when there were important things to look after. But, Arthur had been good to him, and it wasn’t like Y/N hadn’t done well with all the tasks he’d given her. He couldn’t see the harm in getting them a little alone time. Maybe it’d do Arthur some good.

Thing was, getting there was fairly easy, if you ignored the run in with some men that Dutch had pissed off half-way through. Or the mini dust storm that hit them suddenly. All of which culminated in them getting into town as the sun was setting, something that pissed Arthur off immensely, since he had stuff that needed buying. Chances were the shops would be closed by now.

“Could rob’em.” Y/N whispered as she tethered her horse outside a hotel. Arthur paused the process of rolling his sore neck to look at her, eyebrow raised. “I thought you preferred payin’ shopkeeps.” He replied. “I was kiddin’, Arthur. There are better places to rob and people more deservin’ of losin’ money.” She gently smacked his arm with a snicker. Arthur grumbled, adjusting his hat. “I’ll get the room situation handled, just see if anyone’s open.” She said. “Yes ma’am.” Arthur held up his hands, beginning to walk across the street. “And I mean it! Pay fairly!” She shouted to him whilst she made her way to the hotel door, getting a hand wave in response.

“Good evening, ma’am.” The man behind the counter greeted her. An older man with a thick handlebar mustache. “Evenin’. What’s the price of a room, sir?” She asked. “Two beds is five dollars a night, a single is two dollars.” He replied. Y/N winced and considered her options for a moment. She imagined Arthur wasn’t too picky, but she worried maybe it’d be a little uncomfortable. But, if he really did feel that way, she could simply sleep in a chair. She shook off her worries and nodded. “A single then, please.” She replied, getting a nod. She grabbed her money as he grabbed the key. “Ah, do you have baths? How much do they cost?”

“About 25 cents, a dollar for a wash girl.” The man replied. She shook her head and slipped him forty cents. “I have a friend I’m stayin’ with. His name’s Arthur. Blue eyes, stubble, black hat, covered in dirt. Can’t miss’im.” She smiled. “If you could tell him I paid for a bath and the room, I’d appreciate it. Lord knows he’s earned it.”

The man nodded and pointed back to the bath rooms. Y/N thanked him again. She didn’t plan on staying in there long, just a quick rinse. She preferred not dragging outside into bed with her, gritty sand and dirt didn’t make for a good bed mate. She was out and set up in the room before Arthur arrived, she figured he’d found an open shop, maybe bargaining. He always said haggling was easiest when someone was tired or drunk, and it was best to strike a deal whenever possible. Just so long as you could be away fast enough before they realized how short the straw they drew was.

Her assumption was correct. Arthur managed to buy what Dutch told him too, had his bag heavier than before, weighing on his shoulder. The man bit back a wince when he raised his arm, rolling his shoulder, hoping it’d loosen the muscle. It only caused a sharp stabbing pain to pulsate from under his shoulder blade. He held his shoulder with his opposite hand and pushed into the hotel, finding the keeper about ready to leave. The man looked him over once and then gave a smile. “Arthur?” He asked, making the cowboy’s brows furrow. “Yes?” He replied suspiciously. “Young lady came in and paid for the room, and a bath. You made it just in time too, was about to close up.” The keeper explained, placing a key on the desk. Arthur picked it up and blinked. “A bath?” He asked. “She said you’d earned it. No wash girl though.” Arthur shook his head at that, mumbling a quick ‘thanks’ before making his way back.

The steam that rose from the water wafted in the air and beckoned him. He would’ve been fine washing up in a river, he’d done that plenty, since warm baths were a luxury. But it never stopped being nice when he could get one. He told himself to thank Y/N when he could, feeling the warm water help ease the tension in his back. That knot in his shoulder hadn’t left though, and relaxing almost made it worse. He hissed through his teeth but tried to set it aside, enjoy what he could. But when it came time to wash his hair, he found it hard to lift his hands that high.

He had a high pain tolerance, he’d been shot and stabbed plenty of times, but that didn’t mean he liked pain. If he forced himself, he could’ve done it, but it felt like another stone thrown at him when he’d already been in a rock slide. One last little thing to mess with him, make his day a little worse. He grumbled to himself, rubbing at his shoulder again, cursing the air. He glanced up from the bubbles in the tub when he heard light steps down the hall, then a light knock at the door. He frowned and furrowed his brows. He didn’t pay for a wash girl, and given the time, they’d probably all gone anyway.

“Arthur? You in there?” Y/N’s voice spoke from the other side. His scowl turned into a mix of shock and shame. “Uh, yeah.” He said, coughing away a voice crack. He sank down a little more in the shield of bubbles when the door cracked a little, just enough for her head to poke in. “You took awhile, I was worried somethin’ happened. How long you been in here?” She asked. He shrugged. “Couple minutes.” He replied. He watched her gaze narrow, as if she was struggling to see, trying to make something out. “You ain’t washed your hair yet?” Her question made him sigh and flush pink. “Got a damn crick in my back, hurts to lift my arm. I’ll be fine, just gotta bare it.” He brushed off casually.

“Wh- Gosh, no. You don’t need to go hurtin’ yourself worse than you already are.” Without a moment of hesitation, she stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. She’d gotten ready for bed, white night gown flowing around her ankles, hair undone. “I’ll wash your hair, sit up a bit.” She motioned. Arthur’s chest felt tight, like his ribs were bars and a rowdy prisoner banged against them, his heart the criminal. “I can’t ask ya to-” “You ain’t askin’, I’m offerin’, sweetheart. You’ve had a hard day, least I can do is help get all that dust out of your hair.” She cut him off, rolling back her sleeves, settling down on the stool. He swallowed. That heavy syrup sensation had returned to the back of his throat, catching words that threatened to break past the barrier of his teeth. Once she was settled behind him, she caught him staring over his shoulder, and sent him a grin.

With a motion of her hands, he sighed, lamenting. It’d been a long time since he’d felt so…boyish, immature maybe. So embarrassed by something like this. He’d had baths in rivers in plain sight of the gang, had a few wash girls do this exact job before, all that never bothered him. Why was it because of her that he felt so shy all of a sudden? He wasn’t the shy type, he didn’t think so anyway. Arthur picked at his nails under the water as she wetted his hair. She used two fingers under his chin, tilting his head back a bit so she didn’t get soap in his eyes. “Relax, Arthur. I ain’t waitin’ to tear your throat out.” She whispered, hushed words sent the hair on his arm standing up. He forced his muscles to loosen as best he could, though forcing didn’t do much good.

He stayed awkwardly stiff until he felt her fingers drag through his hair. Like she’d touched his brain directly, flipped a switch, he eased more into the bath with a sigh, leaning his head back into her palms. She bit back a quiet giggle, scrubbing lightly. “Hair’s gettin’ pretty long, you should let me trim it when we get back.” She said absentmindedly, being sure to drag her nails over his temples and behind his ears. She bit her bottom lip to fight off a laugh again when he let out a little groan from the back of his throat.

“Ya hear me?” She asked. “Huh? Oh uh, yeah, sure sure.” He replied, voice thick and low with tranquility. She kept her loving teases to herself, let him enjoy the moment, she certainly was. Maybe it was because she knew he appreciated it that it felt so fulfilling. Could’ve been that she just liked feeling useful, needed. Whatever the reason, she relished in it, taking her time. Just to make sure she got out all the muck.

Of course, she couldn’t milk it for that long. Eventually, she had to rinse out all the suds, ring out the excess water. He kept quiet but missed the treatment when she stood up. “Need anythin’ else, hun?” She asked, leaning into his line of sight. Like before, he looked up at her lazily, like he’d been floating in the clouds moments before. “Hm…no, I’m alright. Thank ya.” He nodded. She nodded back. Arthur looked back down at the bath, knowing he’d have to get out soon. He heard her step away to leave, glancing up again when she was at the door. “I’ll see you in a bit.” She said before leaving him alone once again. He stared at the door for a while, swearing the room got dimmer when she left, less warm too. He huffed and rubbed his face with his hands, slowly exhaling between his fingers. Cursing to himself.

When he left the bathroom, now in clothes from his bag, hair still damp, he meandered up the steps. His body felt heavy, and if it weren’t for the stabbing throb in his back, he’d be looking forward to dropping on the mattress. He opened the door to the room, met with a lamp on and the quiet humming of a familiar tone. He stepped in and shut the door, finding Y/N with a book in hand whilst sat upon a singular chair. He looked around the room and caught her eye once he was done surveying it. “One bed?” He asked. “It was cheaper. Figured you wouldn’t mind, but if you do, I’ll sleep right here.” She replied. Arthur scoffed. “I ain’t havin’ you sleep in a chair. I’ll sleep there-” “No ya won’t. You’ll take the bed, mister. I’m not negotiating.”

Her tone was firm and she pointed a finger to get her point across all the more strongly. Arthur let his bag slip to the floor, staring at her in disbelief, before he let out a breathy laugh. “Fine. But I’m still not havin’ you sleep in the chair.” He replied, walking to the bed in order to sit down. She tossed her hands up after marking her place in the story. “Alright, ‘suppose I can agree to that.” She laughed, only for her smile to fall when he grunted in pain. “You okay?”

He looked over at her and nodded. “Fine, just my shoulder ‘s all.” He answered. She stared at him for a moment longer, watching him tug at the collar of his shirt, trying to cool himself down. It was the height of Summer, even the nights were getting humid and uncomfortable. “Hot?” She asked. “It’s this damn shirt. Only one I had clean, but it’s made for Winter. I’d take it off but,” He motioned in her direction, much to her amusement. Crinkling her nose, she snickered and shook her head. “You act like it’s some kinda curse. You can sleep shirtless, I won’t mind. It’s not like skin’s gonna kill me, Arthur.”

“Didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable ‘s all.” He retorted. “Well I ain’t, but you certainly are. Go ‘head. It’s not problem to me, but you dyin’ of heat stroke might be.” Y/N motioned with her hand and he tapped his fingers on his knee for a moment. He muttered something before taking her advice. She did her best to remain respectful, though she caught a couple glances, nothing too distasteful. Her face fell again when he hissed about his back again, and when he tossed the shirt away, a series of pops emanated from the muscles, making her wince in his place. “You sure you’re alright?” She asked, standing up, leaving her book in the seat.

“I’ve had worse. It ain’t pleasant but I’ll live.” The man said with a light cough, rolling his neck, that too popped rather loudly. He felt her hand come up to replace his, exhaling when she applied pressure to a specific point of soreness. It hurt, but in the way a stretch in the morning did. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she looked at his sorry state. It always made her ache, especially if it was something she couldn’t help fix.

Arthur wasn’t a good man, she knew that. But it wasn’t like she could judge. He’d never been anything but good to her, did right by the gang as best he could too. Every day she swore he did something else that went either unnoticed or un-thanked, and that killed her. Sure, there were probably men more deserving of kindness, people who didn’t rob and shoot to survive. But she hadn’t fallen for them, hadn’t ever met a man like that of which could compare to Arthur. When God came to judge the man’s soul, she’d gladly plead his case through the bars of the pearly gates. He’d been through enough, and when her mind ran away from her into a place darker than the night, she could sense it wouldn’t be ending any time soon. That hurt to think about. To worry about an unforeseen future likely full of strife of all sorts, things she’d probably have no say in, no ability to save him from.

But she had him safe for a night. In a place with walls and locks on doors, in her sights and close enough to touch. She couldn’t fix every problem he had, but she could make this night a little easier, surely. It was the least she could do.

“You trust me?” She asked. Arthur glanced up at her, a bit confused, but he nodded. She patted his shoulder. “Gonna seem a lil awkward, but just trust me.” She motioned with her head to the mattress. “Lie on your front.” He blinked a few times rapidly, clearly more confused than he was a second prior, perhaps a bit bashful. Y/N snorted and shook her head. “Easy, cowboy. Nothin’ like that.” She reassured. Arthur tilted his head back, tucking his tongue into his cheek as he glanced her up and down. After a short staring contest, he sighed and tossed his hands up a bit, doing as he was told.

“If this is how you plan on killin’ me, I commend your patience.” He commented, cheek set on a pillow. He heard her laugh, and it helped ease the tension in the room. He knew full well she wasn’t going to hurt him, he was just talking to fill the room with something else to focus on, given how uncomfortable it felt. Mostly because he wasn’t sure what was happening. He jumped when her weight ended up around his waist. “Easy, I told you it’d be awkward, but I need you to trust me here, sweetheart.” Her voice said, patting his arm. Arthur scoffed a little. “Pardon me for bein’ caught off guard, ma’am.” He sassed, getting a light thump to the back of his head, which he complained about.

“Hush. And keep your arms down, won’t work if you’re puttin’ stress on’em.” Y/N answered. He let his arms fall, grumbling about her being bossy, before he felt the heel of her palm press against his shoulder blade. His mouth curled into a hurt scowl, inhaling between his teeth. She rubbed a slow circle and hushed him quietly, instructing him to breath. It hurt, but the muscle began to loosen. She could feel the knot of tension under the skin, clicking her tongue sympathetically, it had to hurt like hell. “Okay. I need you to follow my instruction, ‘kay? I want you to take a deep breath, all the way until you can’t fill your lungs no more.” She whispered. Arthur did as told, not really sure where it was going, but he wasn’t up for questioning.

“Good, now, exhale it all. Until your chest is completely empty. Go slow.” Her words helped make him sleepier, more relaxed, which she knew good and well. It was why she was whispering. As he pushed out the oxygen until he was straining to keep doing so, with all her weight, she pushed into his back with her palm. A loud pop sound echoed off the walls with the quick following of a loud groan into the pillow he laid on.

She lessened the pressure and rubbed his shoulder again. “Did I get it?” She asked. Arthur didn’t give words, but let out an affirmative noise, face buried in the pillow. She smiled as he seemed to sink into the mattress the more she worked out the tension. She wasn’t content at just the shoulder though, so she moved over to the other side. Using her knuckles to trace around the bones. Every now and then, she’d stumble across another little knot, working them out with dutiful care.

“You fallin’ asleep on me, Morgan?” Y/N asked after some silence, pulling at the muscle in his lower back. Once again, he simply gave a noise. She snickered when she caught a yawn he let out. When he let out an appreciative noise when she worked at his waist, she chuckled again. “See, no one realizes how much strain we put on our lower backs until you’re in a position like this.” She commented lazily. “Mhm.” He replied. Y/N couldn’t stop smiling again, her cheeks were starting to hurt. She glanced down when she felt a warm touch on her leg, finding his hand turned toward her, lightly holding her ankle. She melted as his thumb carefully caressed the bone, a silent bit of appreciation. She knew full well she couldn’t left it there, but the moment was so sweet, and not easy to come by.

He blinked slowly when she leaned over him, tapping his temple. Her weight was off of him, something that kept him from dozing off. Arthur lifted his chin, looking at her in his peripheral. “Mind flippin’ over, hun?” She asked. He yawned again, nodding slightly. He moved from his stomach to his back, too relaxed to make a cheeky comment about her sitting back down. He rubbed his eye tiredly as she picked up his opposite hand. “Ya know, if someone asked me if you were drunk right now, I’d say yes. You look like you’re gone, mister.” She teased, pressing her thumbs into his palm before dragging the pressure down his wrist. Arthur let his other hand drop down, his vision a bit hazed over. “Might be.” He mumbled, barely opening his mouth to speak.

He smiled slightly when she laughed. He felt the pull of his tendons as she pushed his hand back, cautious to not over do it. “Sorry.” He commented unconsciously, the word slipping out without much thought. Y/N looked at his face with her brows furrowed. “What for?” She questioned, moving her hand up to his bicep. He flinched when the soreness became apparent under her touch. “My hands. Ain’t too nice for holdin’ I know.” He said. “Now why would you think that, Arthur?” She asked, squeezing the muscle that connected his neck to his shoulder. He tilted his chin out of the way as he thought of how to word his answer.

“You got dainty hands, all soft and nice. Mine…mine are all scratched up and tough. ‘s gotta feel like gravel at this point.” He explained. Y/N scoffed, taking his other hand in her own to repeat the process. “Oh shush, that ain’t true. They’re a workin’ mans hands, that’s all. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with’em.” She replied. “They ain’t kind like yours either.” Arthur retorted, making her pause for a second. She shook her head with a sigh, working out the tension in his scapulae muscle. She stopped and moved her hand to his jaw instead, prompting him to look at her.

She looked inviting in the warm lamp light, accentuating the curve of her cheekbones and the color of her eyes. How warm she was, and he could smell the hint of soap. “Robbin’ or not, you’re a good man, Arthur. Maybe not all the time, but you ain’t a monster either.” She said. His face showed he wasn’t buying it. He eased further when her hand dragged up, pushing his hair back. “No I ain’t.” He whispered back. Y/N clicked her tongue and grabbed his cheeks with both her hands, leaned close and eyes intense with the need to convey her point. “Arthur Morgan, look at me.” She demanded. He listened, even if it felt difficult to do.

“I don’t care bout the law’s definition, and I’m well beyond the words of the Holy Ghost. I don’t care how many men out there hope for you to hang, and I don’t care how much blood stains those hands of yours.” She stroked his cheekbone and up beside his eye, running over the lines that had formed in his skin, brought on by years of expressions. Mainly laughter and grins, things she savored every time she saw them. “The Arthur I know is a loyal man, a workin’ man, a brother and a mentor, a leader and a guard. He fights for what needs to be done and earns his keep, and then some. Your hands might be gun wielding but they’re also caring. When you draw in that journal, or when you pet your horse, pat Jack on the back like he was your own blood.”

His eyes had widened by now and his throat felt like it was being gripped, a pressure building up and threatening to break like a damn. It was so much to take in, too much, but looking away felt like blasphemy. He might not have been a man of worship, not to God, not anymore. But to sin against her might be what damned him, and he wasn’t ready for that. He never would be.

“You might be a bad man, but you ain’t been nothin’ but good to me. Whether you like it or not, you will always be a good man to me. And I’ll be damned if I let you go a day not knowin’ it.” Y/N finished, her voice a bit choked by now. She managed to keep her tears down, but her eyes got misty nevertheless. Arthur rolled his jaw and clenched his teeth, at loss for what words to say. She fixed his hair again and sighed. “Am I clear?” She asked. He stared, fidgety, before he sat up suddenly. She felt his arms wrap around her waist tightly, his forehead resting on her shoulder.

Y/N took a moment to process before she relaxed, bringing her hands to him once again. Her cheek rested on his head, scratching his scalp, the other hand resting on his shoulder. “You haven’t answered me.” She commented. Arthur squeezed her for a moment. “Loud ‘nd clear, ma’am.” He replied, voice a bit hoarse but not any less genuine. She smiled and turned to peck him on the temple. “I’ll keep tellin’ you til it sticks. Mark my words, Arthur Morgan. I’ll keep that bitter man you think you are at bay.” She promised. He managed a choked up chuckle against the fabric of her nightgown.

“I’ll hold you to that, sugar.”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption x reader #fem reader #female reader #fluff

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pupkashi · 1 year

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sunday love

sundays with gojo are slow and sweet

hi hi !! my first post-finals post is of course gojo fluff <3 much needed after the hell us college students endure for higher education ,, so proud of all of u for getting through the semester !!!!! plz enjoy :]

wordcount: 1,134

masterlist

you’re the first to wake up, your eyes struggling to stay open as the sunlight peaks through the blinds. when they’re finally open, you’re flipping yourself over and looking at your lover.

his hair is everywhere, his snowy lashes are fanned across his rosy cheeks, he was holding you so close his body heat was keeping you warm enough for you to get rid of the blanket you usually share. his lips are slightly parted, the occasional small snore leaving his mouth. one of his arms is under your head, you’re resting on his bicep, the other is wrapped tightly around your waist, occasionally twitching and pulling you just a little closer.

you don’t wake him, instead you relish the small moment of peace and quiet in your life. the sound of the occasional car driving by, the wind causing the tree branches to scrape against your window a bit. the birds singing.

as best as you could you roll over, trying to wiggle a bit out of his grip, only for him to pull your back towards his chest, his head instinctively nuzzling into the crook of your neck. his hair tickles you a bit and your biting back a giggle as you reach for your phone.

12:37 p.m.

you set your phone down, a sigh leaving your lips as your eyes flutter closed again, scooting back and letting yourself melt into Gojo’s touch.

“you ‘wake?” his voice is raspy and deep, you smile as you turn to face him once more. “maybe, you gonna make me breakfast if i am?” he’s grinning at your words.

“I’ll think bout it if you give me a good morning kiss” you’re grinning as you lean in and press a chaste kiss to his cheek, squealing when he grabs you and easily pressed a kiss to your lips.

“toru! we haven’t even brush our teeth!” you protest, trying to pull away from him and smacking his chest. you knew it was helpless, if he really wanted to he could keep you exactly where he wanted to. but he always lets you win, pouting as he loosens his grip and let’s you wiggle away.

“you’re getting stronger sweets, that one actually hurt a little” he frowns, you only roll your eyes before sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling some fuzzy socks over your feet before standing up and stretching a bit.

gojo only rests his head in his hand, watching as his shirt rides up a bit, smiling when his boxers peek out from underneath.

“get up stinky, it’s almost 1” you tease, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “also you owe me breakfast” your lover only waves you off, falling onto his back and sighing dramatically.

you finish using the restroom as soon as gojo open the door, scooting behind you and pulling his pants down to use the toilet.

“what do you want from breakfast?” he asks as you wash your hands. you think for a little bit, smiling at him as he flushes and washes his hands next to you.

“blueberry pancakes please” you beam, his smiles at you, nodding his head before drying his hands and passing you the towel.

“you’re obsessed you know that?” you furrow your brows and scoff at him, placing the towel back and passing his toothbrush to him before grabbing your own and putting toothpaste on it, before putting some on your lovers.

“am not” you mumble, the two of you brushing your teeth in comfortable silence before bumping heads when you both lean to spit at the same time.

the two of you giggle, washing your faces and heading out to the living room. gojo heads for the kitchen, already grabbing the things he needed for your pancakes.

you’re quick to turn the tv on and put on the show you’ve been binge watching, settling into the couch and turning the volume up a bit. gojos watching you fro the kitchen, a smile on his face and he feels his heart grow a bit warmer when you gasp softly.

it’s twenty minutes later when he’s stacking your pancakes on the plate, an identical stack on a separate plate for himself. he places them on the dining table, going back to the kitchen and getting you a glass of water.

“breakfasts ready lovebug” he calls out, getting your attention as you pause your show, walking over the the dining table and sitting down.

“thank you for the food toru” you smile, the two of you digging in. there’s a moan leaving your lips as soon as you take the first bite.

“oh my god this is fucking amazing” you groan, already going in for a second bite, gojo only laughs loudly at your antics, thanking you for the compliment before going in for his second bite.

the two of you make some small talk as you eat, asking about each others week.

“no class tomorrow right?” he asks and you smile, shaking your head.

“nope! took my last final Friday afternoon” you grin and he smiles, “im so proud of you.”

“i don’t even know if i passed” you retort, his shakes his head, thanking you softly as you get up and take his plate to the sink for him.

“but you still finished the semester, and that’s an accomplishment in itself” he says, getting up and settling onto the couch, stretching and yawning as you finish washing the two plates.

“you know, you’re a pretty good teacher if you say things like that to the kids” you smile, walking to the couch and letting your lover grab your waist and pull you on top of him.

“itadori got me a ‘best teacher in the world’ mug so that checks out” he smiles, you can’t help but giggle, peppering kisses on his face.

the next time you check the time it was already nearly 7 pm, only grabbing your phone and moving from Gojo’s embrace to get some takeout for the two of you.

you don’t care the day has come and gone. the sun had said it’s goodbyes by the time you finish eating, laughing in the kitchen as satoru tries to help you with the brownies you’re baking, only to drop flour all over his new sweater.

the moon and the stars say hello through the slightly opened curtains as the action movie satoru had chosen flashes across the tv screen, both of you tangled in each others embrace, the plate of brownies long gone.

soon enough it’s time for bed again, but you don’t mind. satoru doesn’t either, in fact he’s grateful for days like these.

days where it’s just the two of you in your shared home, your love pouring into each other at any given moment, not a second spent apart.

#didn’t know how to end it bleh #i love himf #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru one shot #gojo satoru drabble #gojo fluff #satoru gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x reader fluff

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underacalicosky · 5 months

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For the soft dialogue - 41, 46, or 47. Or all of them, or a combination of them, I'll take what I can get. Lol. 💖

Thanks for the prompts! ❤️ I posted my response for #46 earlier today. @sky-kenobye also asked for #41.

I decided to make #41 part of the Heartbreak Prince AU. It happens the same night as when Anakin asks Obi-Wan to re-pierce his ear for him.

41. “Is that my shirt?” “Is… is that okay?”

And #47 is part of The Next Model universe (aka Top Model AU) and takes place a few weeks after the epilogue.

47. “Have you eaten today?” “Am I gonna get in trouble if I say no?”

Like Old Times

Obi-Wan flips the light switch off as he leaves the bathroom and shuffles over to his living room where Anakin is staying on his pullout couch to see if he needs anything before bed. The apartment is mainly dark except for the light from the kitchen, and that’s where Obi-Wan finds him putting another ice cube into a ziplock bag.

“Does it still hurt a lot?” Obi-Wan winces when his eyes land on Anakin’s red earlobe newly adorned with the shiny metal hoop.

“It’s not too bad,” Anakin says and give him a reassuring smile. He closes the freezer door.

“We should put more antibacterial cream on it,” Obi-Wan suggests. “It’s going to get infected. Again.”

Anakin laughs and the sound is comforting and familiar as it wraps around Obi-Wan. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he says and presses the ice cube to his ear.

“Alright, well, let me know if you need anything in the middle of the night. Like a trip to urgent care for antibiotics.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Anakin chuckles and rolls his eyes.

As he’s pivoting and about to walk back to his bedroom, Obi-Wan pauses, his eyes roaming over Anakin.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Is... is that okay?” Anakin glances down at himself before looking up at Obi-Wan. “I forgot to pack a sleep shirt because I usually sleep without a shirt on.” He blushes adorably and his hand drops from his ear. “I found this on the hook behind the bathroom door and it felt really soft so I figured I could borrow it?” he adds, shrugging one shoulder. “Sorry, I should’ve asked first,” he mumbles and the way he casts his eyes away and tips his head down hasn’t changed in ten years. Except now, his hair is long enough for a wayward curl to fall across his forehead.

“No, I don’t mind that you’re borrowing it,” Obi-Wan says and a flush begins to crawl its way up his chest and neck as he takes in the sight of Anakin wearing his shirt. “I could get you a clean one.” Obi-Wan wore it to bed the night before and it’s not terribly dirty, but the fact that Anakin knew it was a worn shirt stirs something in him.

“This one’s okay,” Anakin says quickly. “We used to share clothes all the time.”

“Yeah, we did, didn’t we?” Memories of them from high school flood his mind and Obi-Wan takes a deep breath. “We used to sleep over at each other’s houses every weekend,” he says softly. “Your mom made the best meatloaf and potatoes.”

“She did,” Anakin agrees wistfully. For a moment, they’re both lost in thought. “I have her recipe.”

Studying Anakin’s face, Obi-Wan reads every emotion that dances across his features. So much has changed in their lives in the past decade. So much time has slipped away.

“Well, I know what we’re making for dinner tomorrow,” Obi-Wan tells him.

It earns him a bright smile and he’s swept away by nostalgia as he reaches out to squeeze Anakin’s shoulder.

“Come on,” Obi-Wan says, his voice soft. “Sleepover’s in my room. Just like we did when I visited you.” He tugs on Anakin’s arm and is met with little resistance. “But same rules apply. I will knock you to the floor if you fart on me.”

With another laugh, Anakin follows him down the hallway, the bag of melting ice still in his hand.

* * *

Hungry

When he catches sight of the auburn hair, Anakin flips his turn signal on and guides the car over to the curb. He parks their sensible and affordably-priced used hybrid vehicle in an empty space, switching on the hazards before he steps out.

Logically, it made sense to not lease a new sports car. They simply weren’t in the financial situation to do so, with both of them still a couple years away from finishing graduate school while planning a small wedding for the summer.

Anakin sees Obi-Wan’s face light up and he laughs, hurrying over to wrap him up in a hug.

“Hi,” Anakin whispers into the neck of Obi-Wan’s puffy winter coat.

“Hi,” Obi-Wan responds and places a small kiss on Anakin’s cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Anakin straightens up enough to cup Obi-Wan’s clean-shaven face and brings their lips together. “How was your flight?”

“Uneventful.”

Anakin smiles, happy that Obi-Wan was back from his conference. Grabbing the rolling suitcase, he pops open the trunk of the hatchback and places it inside. Obi-Wan tosses in his duffle bag and backpack.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Obi-Wan says.

“No need to thank me. I wanted to see you as soon as I could,” Anakin replies.

After they settle into the car and buckle in, Anakin pulls away from the curb and into airport traffic, checking his mirrors.

“Have you eaten today?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Am I gonna get in trouble if I say no?” Anakin grins as he glances over at him.

“Wait, Anakin, you missed the exit.”

But Anakin just bites his lip and continues to the left, toward short-term parking. Beside him, Obi-Wan is silently trying to figure out what Anakin is doing. The scent of Obi-Wan’s aftershave wafts over as the car turns and it make Anakin’s heart beat faster in anticipation.

They pull up to the ticket kiosk and Anakin punches the button to get a slip of paper. The gate lifts and he pulls through.

“It’s almost noon,” Obi-Wan observes. “You really haven’t eaten anything yet today?”

“The only thing I want in my mouth right now is your dick.”

“I see.”

Anakin winds the car around the parking complex and into a spot in a dark corner. His fingers unfasten his seat belt and he quickly gets out of the car. A beat later, he opens the door to the backseat and waits.

“Are you coming?”

Turning his head hesitantly, Obi-Wan looks up at him. “You’re serious?” But he doesn’t wait for an answer and opens the passenger side door to shuffle out, closing it behind him before he crawls into the backseat. “There’s not enough room back here,” Obi-Wan notes.

Anakin slides in from the other side and closes the door. A second later, his hands are in Obi-Wan’s hair, crushing their mouths together. He feels Obi-Wan moan against his lips and attempts to rearrange their limbs to fit in the cramped space so that he can grind his hips down on his fiancé.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan pants between kisses. “You couldn’t have waited until we got home?”

Sometimes Obi-Wan could be such a troll. Anakin palms and squeezes at the obvious arousal in Obi-Wan’s pants, making him gasp.

“No, I couldn’t wait.” His hands work to peel Obi-Wan’s coat off him while his mouth sucks on the little silver hoop earring, then latching onto that spot right behind his ear.

“But now we’ll have to pay for parking,” Obi-Wan protests breathlessly.

“Under thirty minutes is free,” Anakin says, pulling back from him. His fingers begin unzipping Obi-Wan’s fly. “And I only need about five,” he adds with a grin and shimmies down Obi-Wan’s body.

#soft dialogue prompts #thanks for the ask!

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silentwillowwhisperer · 7 months

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Shots (the doctory ones)

Ok, wait, I want to clarify that when I say shots, I mean vaccines, not the alcoholic ones or gunshots.

Cool? Cool.

When Lance is forced to get a shot, he shrieks like a child, but he’s mostly being dramatic.

After the ordeal, he’ll go home and be all whiny and use his ‘poor, abused, punctured arms’ as an excuse to make Keith do everything for him.

And Keith would roll his eyes and make a snarky comment, but clearly he’s genuinely worried and would spend the whole week (yes, week) suffocating Lance with care like the closeted mother hen that he is.

Keith, on the other hand, would try to keep a straight face. But he seriously can’t handle it.

Due to his killer immune system, he rarely had to go to the hospital. Also, he usually just toughed it out or fixed it himself when he got injured as a child.

So he’s already on edge thanks to this unfamiliar place full of grumpy adults and children who seem to be leaking mucus from absolutely all places, and now he’s being dragged into a small room by Lance and that lady is smiling at him so bright that he’s 58% sure that she’s a serial killer.

She has the nerve to ask him how his day is going.

So far he has been forced to this horrid place by his traitorous boyfriend (Husband? Are they married yet? Who knows.), been given a headache from the piercing wails of infants, made conversation with a dead looking receptionist with a scar splitting her right nostril (How does that happen?), and called into yet another strange hallway by a random who knows his name (what? Why? Did Lance give away Keith’s identity? Because partners or not, Lance has NOT helped Keith escape this situation yet and he feels utterly betrayed. He expects to be paid in full with cuddles and movie marathons after this is over).

Yeah, Keith’s day has been great, thanks. He decides to ignore Lance frantically shaking his head at the nurse.

Anyway, he makes it through the checkup with only a couple comments about his scars, and he breathes out at last, knowing he’s finally safe.

Lance clears his throat awkwardly.

“Uh.. it’s great to see you relaxed, but you don’t think we’re done yet, do you?”

What.

Screaming seems like an good option right now. Why hadn’t he been listening to the gibberish coming out of the doctor’s mouth? Why was this so much easier last time, when Lance was the one getting a check up?

He can feel Lance’s burning gaze watching him think, but there is a sharp knock on the door an it swings open slowly. The man who walks in is pushing a cart.

On the cart is a tray.

A tray of needles.

Before this point, Keith has been sitting in one of the 2 chairs in the corner of the room. As soon as his eyes land on those evil stabbies, he hops up and settles quickly in Lance’s lap, hiding his face in his boyfriend’s tan neck to block the rest of the room from his vision.

He can feel Lance running his fingers soothingly through Keith’s hair. He grips on tighter just to make sure it won’t stop.

Honestly, Keith can’t decide what’s wrong with himself. He can take a gunshot and keep fighting, be interrogated fiercely by aliens, hunt dangerous species from foreign universes, and yet he can’t look at some needles.

Lance chuckles softly.

“Hey. You have to sit up, you can stay on my lap and close your eyes, but it’s only gonna hurt more if you stay all tense like that.”

Keith raises his head just a bit to stare at Lance with wide, teary eyes. He nods shallowly and flips around so that his back is pressed to Lance’s chest.

Long story short, Lance ends up having to pin Keith’s arms still and hug his chest tightly until all 4 shots have been injected.

Keith only manages to ignore him for about 2 minutes before running over for hugs. He can be petty later, right now he’s been through a traumatic experience and need comfort in the form of Lance the doting boyfriend.

(Does Lance feeding him their stash of Valentine’s chocolates while they watch ‘Legally Blond’ and all three ‘How to Train Your Dragon’s make this all worth it? No.)

(Yes.)

—————————-

This was supposed to be 4 paragraphs long…

Have fun trying to find a plot in this mess : )

I just got 2 shots and a finger prick yesterday, so yes I am projecting. I’m really bad around needles, I can’t even look at cartoon-style pictures for longer than a couple seconds. I almost passed out, but what’s new?

#vld #voltron legendary defender #voltron #keith kogane #lance mcclain #klance #keith vld #vld keith #lance vld #shots #tawny post

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lemidnightlitterareur · 4 months

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The butterflies in Leah's tummy tickled and flipped as she practically skipped down the dark passageway towards the forgotten store room where she and Uktar would meet up on quiet afternoons like this. She slipped through a small gap between some crates with ease and took a moment to gather herself before she pushed open the creaky wooden door.

Uktar was lighting the candles when he heard the door open behind him. His mask hid his smile as he turned to greet her. “Did ya get lost on the way,” he teased as he pulled her into a hug. His hands snaked around her narrow waist and he held her tightly against his body. Letting her feel just how much he had anticipated her arrival.

“Sorry. She wanted to speak to me about next tensday, make sure I was prepared.” She imitated Nine Fingers perfectly. “As if I wouldn’t be?” She scoffed.

Uktars hands slid down to her arse and he ground his hard on into her belly, “She worries about you and she has good reason to. You take risks,” he whispered intimately, “You think I don’t worry when I hear tales about the things you get up to?” His hands began to unbuckle her leathers unhurriedly, “Like that time you got stuck in that Patriars safe,” he chided her gently as he undressed her, “barely got you out of there before you ran out of breath.”

Leah let him talk, she enjoyed the sound of his voice. There weren’t many opportunities for them to speak in the Guild Hall without raising suspicion and outside of it - her loft at the docks was watched constantly. Nine Fingers would not take kindly to her Bursar banging her only daughter. Who knows what she would do. Uktar would more than likely be going for a swim in some very heavy boots.

His skilled fingers made short work of the laces on her breeches and when he had wriggled the tight leather down over her bum he pushed her down onto the old couch behind her. “Watch it dickhead!” She giggled, “or lll fuck you up.”

“I can see why your mouth gets you into so much trouble,” he spoke with grunts interspersed with his words as he wrestled with her boots and pants, staggering backwards as he finally succeeded in removing them. “I love your arse in these, Lee but fucking hell they are a pain in mine.”

She slumped on the couch in only her unbuttoned shirt, a toned strip of tummy peeked out from beneath, “Lemme see,” his voice hushed and heated as gazed down upon her, removing his robes. He swallowed audibly as she gathered her shirt in her hands, revealing her naked body and parting her thighs. “You are something else, Babygirl,” he stepped between her legs and passed his dry tongue over arid lips. At times like this his mask was a hindrance but the young girl that lay before him was not ready for such a sight.

“Are you gonna get your cock out or not?” She sighed, impatiently, “ I’m aching so much it hurts,” Leah sat up and unlaced his trousers, gasping dramatically when his dripping cock burst free. “There it is! she looked up at him and her cheeky smile faded as if she sensed his sombre thoughts.

Uktar cupped her cheeks as he stood over her and gently tilted her face, the atmosphere palpable as he gazed at her pretty face, she was stunning. The elf in her shined through. “Sit down,” Leah said quietly, taking his hands in hers, “I want you.”

They traded places silently, their breathing the only thing to be heard in the cramped space. Placing her knees either side of him on the saggy old couch she sank down slowly on his cock. Exhaling in unison as they joined.

Leah's hips rolled slow and deep as she savoured every single moment of pleasure, both hands cupping Uktars neck as she straddled the bursars lap. Lost in contented bliss, delicate gasps and groans slipped from her lips as she rode the older man in an almost trance like state. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she tilted her head, letting her long brown hair tumble over her shoulder. A hum of

satisfaction resounded deep in her chest, feeling every inch of his exquisite cock sliding against her delicate inner walls creating a sinful tingling ache low in her belly.

Uktars hand’s guided her hips lightly, letting her take her sweet time. A lazy smile hovering about his lips beneath his mask as his head rested against the back of the dusty old couch that they used for illicit moments of privacy like this. His hand skimmed over her firm, young body to her breasts and parted her white cotton shirt so he could look upon them, sliding it over her shoulders and leaving it to drape down her back. His fingertips lightly stroked her chest, letting his palms teasingly caress her pebbled nipples as she moved.

“Uktar…” she breathed, pressing his strong hands to her breasts, holding them there as she rode him. Her hushed moans going straight to his balls.

“Oh, Babygirl, if only you knew what you do to me,” he murmured as he massaged her tits. Gazing at his lover with adoration. She was breathtaking.

“Of course I do,” she whispered, “I’m sitting on it.” She shot him a cheeky smile that set him on fire.

Leah moaned softly as Uktar lifted his hips to meet hers, desperate for more friction. “Don’t stop,” she whined, her head lolling back in ecstasy.

Uktar grabbed a handful of each ample ass cheek and began to fuck her from beneath, matching her unhurried roll. Grinding her soaking wet pussy on his body.

“Gods I can feel that up my arse,” Leah groaned as they moved together. Her cunt ached deliciously. He was so fucking good at this.

“Careful, darlin,” he snickered, loving her dirty talk, “or this’ll be over fast.”

“You come first and ill fucking stab you,” she warned, breathlessly. Threats of violence always stirred him up.

“Not if I stab you first,” he retorted, sitting up and pulling her towards him. He held her tightly and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her hand tangling in his hair as their coupling ramped up.

“Am I your best girl?” she breathed, her grip on his hair tightened. Her pace steady and eyes on his.

“Oh, you are darlin. The fuckin’ best,” and he meant it. She was.

“Whose is it?” she pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes against the intensity building inside her.

“It’s all yours, Babygirl. It’s all for you, every fucking inch,” Uktar bounced her on his cock, her mouth hanging open in a silent scream. “Come on, come for me. I want to feel it,” he hissed, goading her to climax.

And then…his hand clamped over her mouth as she moaned his name, cutting her off just in time. He let her ride it out, eyes rolled to the whites as she sobbed. Her thighs shook with the intensity of her release. A wave of pride rose within him. That he could make such a mess of her, “Shh, shhh. ” He soothed, “that’s my good girl,” brushing the stray hairs from her face he thumbed her cheek gently whilst she came down from the high. “Aww, Babygirl…” he chuckled quietly as she trembled with aftershocks on his lap.

He gave her as much time as she needed to recover, patiently keeping his cock warm inside her as he gently ghosted his palm up and down her back. Eventually she stirred. She licked her dry lips and shuddered, her hands rising to cup his face. “I wish you’d let me kiss you,” she breathed, nuzzling his mask with her cheek and nose. The intimacy of his lips was something he had yet to grant her, given his disfigurement it was understandable. It was something she would never force but also something she desired more than anything in the whole world.

“I know…” he sighed, gently taking her hands from his face and lacing his fingers through hers. “But I've got better parts,” he hinted, his eyes flicking lower.

Leah smiled broadly, “Oh have you now?” She dismounted, dropping her shirt to the floor and got on her knees, wasting no time in licking a stripe up his sticky shaft.

Uktars hips bucked involuntarily and he let out a loud shuddering gasp as her hot mouth enveloped his cock. Her tongue swirled around the tip and her head bobbed up and down. “Fuck that’s intense,” he choked out, gripping the seat cushions at either side as the pressure mounted fast. Leah was utterly relentless. “Lee,” he warned, in a tight barely coherent voice. She took him deep, using her throat to massage his swollen cock.

He groaned and slid his hand beneath his mask, biting his fist to stifle his ecstasy as he came hard. His every muscle tensed, he shot his heavy load down his lover’s throat with a soul deep groan. His hips rising from his seat in spasm. He expelled an audible breath that sounded ridiculously loud in the small space as he flopped back down on the sofa. “Ohhh, Im fucking dead.” His hands passed over his mask, his breathing heavy and ragged. “God's woman! Where'd You learn to do things like that? No, don’t tell me. Might have to kill somebody.”

They walked down the passage, back towards the main Guildhall. What was once beautiful in its soft intensity was now all business. Side by side, her face carefully blank and his as inscrutable as always, they split off as they entered the hall.

“Same time tomorrow, Fuktar?” Leah said, poker faced as she walked away.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Uktar replied, smiling warmly beneath his mask.

#ao3 #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #Uktar #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dnd #smut #smutty fanfiction

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biaaaaasposts · 1 year

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GRAVITY FALLING

WARNING+ DESCRIPTION : smut,anal(f received),unprotected sex,dom,cream pie,aggressive kink,choking, 18+ ONLY,NSFW,dirty talk,harsh language,lingerie,some fluff

18+ ONLY IF YOU ARE A MINOR GO READ SOME BOOKS AND TELL UR PARENTS HELLO

I DONT LIKE MY WRITING BEING REPOSTED ON OTHER PLATFORMS OR ON HERE

you always have felt comfortable in your body well sometimes while clark was having a meeting with his team you took your sweet chance too put on a beautiful red lingerie dress just too mess with him because you two recently fought the previous night over him being affectionate with another girl he said it never happened that he was just being nice you believed him he was your husband but you wanted to get revenge for him not talking to you wonderwoman knew this as you two were like sisters

once you were ready you had to admit you look sexy as hell in what you were wearing you “accidentally” walk in on there meeting and greeted his friends which included batman,wonderwoman,flash,cyborg. they looked at you then simply looked shocked, and looked away knowing you belonged to clark but flash he was starring as he was new and knew nothing

henry looked at you he got pissed but continued the meeting as i walked to look at the stuff they were talking about, although i had powers exactly like clark he refused to let me on the field we arent intimate alot because of the dangers of our strength you were all for it but clark didnt wanna “hurt” you but all you wanted was to show him how much you loved him and how much you were his both of you have had sex with eachother 1 other time but we trashed our house and i was left with marks. thats when he said he wasnt doing it again but you were gonna prove him wrong

“do you have any idea how mad he is over there” diana said to you as she wasnt needed in the meeting anymore so she came to you to talk “i know but i just wanna prove we can do this” you pleaded to even though she was single she knew how much we meant to eachother so she was happy to be down with the plan “goodluck looks like its your turn dont trash the world” she told you laughing it made you giggle the team walked out leaving you and clark together alone.

you walked over to him as he was focusing on the meeting layout while still pissed at you so you went next to him “hey babe” you giggled while kissing his neck to get his attention he stopped you which pissed you off “we cant you know that why would u even wear that you look beautiful with out it” clark spit out to you which just runied the mood you backed off

“clark i wanna try your not gonna hurt me and i wont hurt you” you huffed he turned aroung looking at you “we still cant take the chance im sorry” he spoke like he was piercing your heart it broke you he wasnt even willing to try of course you loved him without the sex but feeling him giving all of you to him meant something to you “right. i forgot im nothing more then your trophy” you spoke as it saddened you while you walked out it was dramatic but it hurt that you couldnt kiss him sometimes.

clark was mad you walked out and said that the dominant part of him came out as he used his super speed to throw you on the bed it took you by suprise “your not just a trophy your my beautiful wife id rip those clothes off you, you know that” he spoke while ontop of you as his cock was close to your pussy it made you wet as it brushed against you and you knew it made him hard “prove it give me all of you” was all you could get out before you used your speed too flip yall over making you ontop as you kissed him down his neck too his chest and his abs getting one step closer too his cock.

clark gave in as he moaned as you kissed close to his cock and taking his pants off and grabbing him in your hands while licking his pre cum off the tip and putting all of him in your mouth going up and down starring into his soul his pretty moans made you even more wet you started going fast as he grabbed your hair into his hands pushing you down harder as the beg was shaking from his and yours strength

“fuck.. hmmm just like that baby” his words stuttering gave u motivation too go even faster he was close as he was twitching in your mouth clark pulled his head back as he cummed in your mouth you swallowed he had a smile on his face “good girl taking all of me like that” clark whispered sexually making you smile while licking his cum off of his cock completely

of course he used his strength too flip you over yet again and rip the fabric off your skin while teasing your nipples with his tongue giving full espouser his length to your heat making your legs shake he slowly went down to your pussy and used his tongue to play with your clit making you moan in pleasure hes touch was enough for you

“mm..fuck clark please fuck me” you were breathing hard and holding his hair in your hands he didnt stop you were close to an orgasm he kept going but faster and faster until your legs were shaking so bad he had to grip your thighs with his hands making you moan his name it made him so hard he was gonna fuck the hell out of you

“this it mine only mine dont wear that outfit infront of any again unless you want everyone to watch you get punished” his words were like a drug to you as your orgasm came making him lick up all your juices he laid on the bed “come ride me baby take all of me or i will make you” with those words you got even more turned on and got ontop of you and taking all of him in causing him too sit up and hold you while kissing on your neck as you rode him

he knew you would always be his this pussy this body all of you was his, no one else if anyone touched you or looked at you he would kill them your his and his only both of yours strength broke the bes as clark laughed and u kept going making you both moan and roll your head back he felt so good his cock was so long you could see him inside you threw your stomach

“i-m.. im close fuck” he spoke to you in the sexiest way possible you were also close so you went faster hes cum shot up your insides as you cummed he you both became weak and he watched your pussy leak of his cum

“we should try this more im sorry i doubted you” clark said as he kisses you as you kissed back holding his head “its okay clark im glad you were willing to try i love you” you told him as you both cleaned up and cuddled

“i love you too baby” clark breathed out both of you d rifting off too sleep.

#raven #tv: titans #gar logan #teagan croft #brenton thwaites #beast boy #rachel roth #bruce wayne #tim drake #titans s4 #supergirl #superman #henry cavill smuts #henry cavill #smut #writing #sexy titts

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for-fvckssake · 9 months

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"im not being a baby, you kinkshamer." eren mumbles under his breath, a tiny pout on his lips as he unfolds his arm as you pull him. he lets out a muffled mmmf when his torso hits the mattress, hands moving in parallel to his shoulders with the intention to lift himself and turn around. but his plan is cut short when you sink your teeth into his golden skin.

a shiver runs through his body at the sharp but short-lived pain, shoulder blade rolling to alleviate the sensation before you unceremoniously flip him over.

"im not dramatic, youre just a meanie. and you're lucky i'm tired and my ass hurts, cause if not, I'd definitely wrestle you right now." eren flips himself back, toned abs pressing down on the mattress as he shoulders your legs open. his arms encircle your waist, crossing behind your back as he lays his head on your stomach, "now cuddle me, you promised!"

-Rennie <333333

“‘m not kinkshaming, just saying you’re a mix of a whore and a simp is all baby.” i say, laughing while watching you flip over yet again before wedging yourself between my legs, my own arms resting on you, a hand going to rest on the nape of your neck and the other slipping into your hair to slowly scratch your scalp.

“yeah, wrestle me? you and i both know i’d win, but ‘m not gonna beat your ass tonight, cause you need some rest, not to be showed up.” i him out, my fingers weaving through your hair methodically, nails against your skin slowly. “just relax and go to sleep, mkay? i love you handsome man.”

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

ST. PAUL

Please like, comment, recommend, reblog, and come talk to me if you enjoyed the piece.

I write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here. (plus my bday is coming up in a two days) 😌

warnings: smut, daddy kink, 18+

—

Harry loves being the center of attention.

It’s really no surprise at this point that he enjoys when tens of thousands of people are watching him perform.

He also secretly loves that people love his wife as well. He swore sometimes he thinks his wife is more popular than him during tour.

YN was didn’t come out from backstage to stand and watch the show right away like she usually did - she was working through some merch issues with Jeff.

Harry noticed that the fans were continuously looking back to where his wife would usually stand for the show.

Between one of the sets, Harry goes about ready some of the posters that fans have brought and he huffs out a faux affronted remark as he reads one out loud.

“I’m only here for your hot wife.”

He jokingly glares at the fan as the crowds laughs, “M’gonna have t’have a talk with security about these posters! Y’hitting on m’wife in front me! She’s not even out here, tough luck mate.”

Then he shimmies away as another song comes on.

A few minutes later, a sign pops up that says, “I want to taste YN’s watermelon sugar.”

Harry gives the person holding the sign a look of disbelief and shakes his head in disapproval at the poster before turning away.

“Should I text him?”

Harry reads from a fan’s board, he holds up his left hand and wriggles his ring finger that is donned in his wedding band, “Y’asking the wrong person, love. I’ve been locked down f’eleven years, don’t know much about the new age of dating!”

He goes on to say, “My only advice is if he’s playing games - don’t do it. Trash, trash, trash. Not for you.”

When YN finally arrives to her usual spot, everyone tries to get a glimpse from where they’re at. It was a thing, everyone wants to not only get a glimpse of Harry Styles’ wife but also her outfit.

There were hundreds of instagram accounts now dedicated to their matching tour outfits.

The short dress she was wearing was made of the same material and color as his shirt *** and she looked stunning as always.

The singer notices all of the attention dart to the side of the arena, where he also spots his beautiful wife smiling with Glenne as they go to their usual spot.

When She ends, Harry walks down the catwalk with a exaggerated pout on his face, giving his wife a pointed look, “I just want to remind everyone, this show’s about me! I’m quite the narcissist so I know m’wife is gorgeous but we’re here f’me!”

The crowd erupts in laughter and playful ‘boos’ as a dimply smile spreads on his face as he adjust his in-ears.

YN bites the inside of her lip, holding back her own giggles at her husband’s boyish antics before she joins along in the boos.

“Alright, alright, no booing me now,” Harry titters like the comedian he is, “Just remindin’ y’who this is all about. Me! But let’s give a round of applause to m’wife who deals with the narcissism on a daily basis!”

The arena does so, thousands of fans capturing their interaction on their phones for people to coo over later.

YN rolls her eyes, laughing at some Glenne says before and then Harry is starting his next song with a few glances over to her until they meet eyes and he blows her a kiss which she returns.

And then a poster pops up in the pit that Harry knows he has to snag - gets a brilliant idea so he asks the fan to pass it forward.

He props his mic back into its stand before turning the poster around and showing it to his wife on the side.

“Show us your tits, respectfully.”

YN flips him off with a giggle before teasing at the collar of her dress which makes Harry’s jaw drop dramatically and he gives her a surprised look before shaking his head. ***

“Don’t y’dare flash the goods! I’m just jokin’ around, this is a family show….” He pauses before prompting the crowd, “Or is it?”

As he performs Lights Up, YN steps forward to the barricade to call over one of the fan who is awestruck as she stumbles over to YN.

“Could I borrow your sign?” YN asks the fan - who was dressed in a sequined suit that looked amazing and she had to compliment her on that too.

“Uh…yeah. He-here,” The girl stutters nervously, passing over the posterboard with shaky hands at meeting YN.

She was sooooo pretty up close, smelled like chanel number five, and smiled warmly enough to make the fan feel comfort.

“Thanks, I’ll give it right back,” YN assures her, stepping back over to Glenne, they giggle together before YN holds it over her head.

“Choke Me Daddy.”

Harry spots it in a mere minute, reading it over and unable to hide the moody, dark expression that flashes across his face before he covers it up by looking elsewhere.

Just the reaction she wanted.

Harry stay away from that side of the stage for a little, YN knows it’s to prevent a very public boner from her behavior.

YN hands it back, agrees to take a few pictures with the girl and her friends before they go back to enjoy the concert.

The girl who lent her the sign goes on to make tiktoks about the meeting.

“She was super nice and giggly.”

“She let us take a ton of selfies.”

“When she held it up, Harry like instantly got pissed or turned on or something because he gave her this look and it was intense.”

“Harry was staring at her like the whole concert after she held up that sign.”

“It seemed like YN was purposefully ignoring his signals to make him even more annoyed.”

“Her ring was so pretty.”

“I couldn’t tell who was more attractive, Harry or YN, I think they’re literally the hottest couple alive.”

When the concert ends, Harry bolts off stage - waving and blowing kisses to his adoring fans before disappearing into the back.

YN is waiting patiently by the entry, where she usually was, her stomach was tight and bracing for her husband’s reaction.

She wanted to play.

They both knew it.

Hell, the whole arena had known she wanted it.

And to her absolute disappointment, Harry arrives back stage and pulls her into a tight hug. He pulls back gently to kiss her with his large palm cupping her face.

“Hi baby, m’exhuasted. I’ll shower at the hotel,” Harry rasps, peppering a few more soft kisses before intertwining their fingers.

YN has to hide her disappointment that it wasn’t Harry coming back stage, shoving her into his dressing room, and giving it to her hard for the sign she held up.

Nope, during the ride to the hotel, he was cuddly and like a puppy - whining until YN massaged his neck and allowed him to lay his head in her lap.

He doesn’t bring up the sign, just relaxes quietly until they get to the hotel and then just grabs her hand to lead her to their room.

YN tries to settle down the itchy arousal in her belly when Harry goes to shower.

She changes out of her dress into one of Harry’s shirts and goes about folding and organizing both of their suitcases.

After the shower stops, YN hears Harry moves around for a moment until he’s opening the bathroom door.

“Do you want to order room service? I’m star-“

She’s cut off when her husband’s hand reaches down and intertwines into her hair - gentle by firmly pulling her to stand by it and tugging her back into his hard chest.

“Harr-“

“I don’t think so, baby. I think s’daddy, yeah?” Harry hisses against the shell of her ear, “Do y’think I’d forget about y’holding up a sign that said choke me daddy?”

It’s easy for her to slip in a fuzzier, submissive state because she knows her husband will keep her safe and always take care of her.

“You showed that sign fir-“ YN begins to argue back but Harry pulls at her hair to silence her.

“Y’want t’argue or do you want t’be a good girl f’daddy?” Harry asks lowly, his voice threaten and void of any of his normal warmth, “I think ten is a good number, hm? Ten t’your arse?”

“But-“ YN loved to push him, she wanted those ten but she also liked to rile Harry up which was even better when he was adrenaline high from a show.

“Say ‘yes daddy’ or I’ll add five,” He warns, his voice had a delicious rasp from singing and he wraps his hand into her thong and rips it - making her yelp as the elastic snaps against her skin.

YN’s heart is pounding out of her chest, usually she was the one who took Harry by surprise - not the other way around.

Her skin was aching already from the brush burn of the fabric being torn from her sensitive skin, scalp pulsing from the tension on her hair.

“You were so obvious on stage, H. Once I held up that sign, your face gave everything away - that you’re so easy f’me - it’s embarrassing. I’ve been locked down for eleven years,” She imitates his accent in a bratty bite.

Harry snaps, nearly picking her up as he manhandles her over to the large hotel bed and she finds herself on her belly with Harry landing a hard slap to her right cheek.

“Y’think you’re s’fuckin’ cute? Don’t act like it doesn’t get y’soaked seeing all those fans cry f’me and I come home t’you,” He chuckles meanly, “And y’want to call me desperate? Look in the mirror, love.”

YN wriggles a bit but doesn’t have much time before the second and third hit with his rings still on - making it hurt even more.

“Count f’me, sweetheart,” Harry hums, thumbing open her cheeks to lean down and teasing lick her tighter entrance before letting go to land the fourth one.

“F-four,” She chokes out, feeling herself drip onto the sheets and her nipples tighten against the cotton fabric of the shirt she still has on.

“Four what.”

The air in the room is thick, humid as she mumbles against the pillows, “Four daddy.”

“Louder.”

“Four, s’four daddy,” YN moans, tacking on the fifth to her words when he lands on her left cheek and she can tell how sore she’ll be in the morning already.

“Gonna give me fifteen, baby? Or are y’done?” His voice is cautious, checking in to see where she’s at - if they add five more that means she really wants to play. If he stops at five, they both know that means she only wanted to be roughed up a little bit for the night.

“More, please.” YN gasps, shaking her bum in his face before it’s caught with the hardest hit yet and she yelps in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

After they reach fifteen, Harry is flipping her on her back and tugging her shirt off until her breasts spill out and he tugs roughly at a nipple.

“Daddy, please, please,” She whines, her thighs were damp and she was absolutely pulsating for his touch on her.

“I think I deserve an apology f’your behavior tonight,” He whispers against her puffy lips, his cock slipping against her mound lazily, “Desperate f’me even in front of tens of thousands of people. It’s quite cute, darling.”

“Fuck me, fuck me,” YN presses her lips to his eagerly, moaning when he slips between her folds and his tip bumps against her clit.

“Y’have no fuckin’ manners, pet. I think I’ve spoiled y’too much,” Harry admonishes with faux disappoint, pulling back until their centers aren’t touching and landing a smack to her mound.

Then he’s reaching down to thumb at her bud with a relentless pleasure but as soon as she starts to lift her hips into the feeling - he pulls away and tucks two fingers up inside her - repeats that quite a few times.

She felt like she was on fire, she needed him so badly that she wasn’t able to take much more of the teasing.

They usually played for longer, hours sometimes but on tour - it was hard to, both of them bone-tired and knowing they have to get up early and do it again tomorrow.

Harry knows his wife like the back of his hand, knows when she needs more and when she’s hit her limit for the night.

When he sees hot, fat tears spilling from the corner of her eyes, lips full and swollen, and she’s mewling, “Daddy.”

He knows she’s nearly at her limit, he slips inside her with no resistance and has to push for a moment because it feels that euphoric.

“Baby, fuck. Always feel s’fuckin’ good. This body was made f’me, yeah? S’addicitng, s’warm and tight,” Harry praises his wife, kissing her before tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth.

“S’for you, all of it. Ha-Daddy, I’m so close already, do it - c’mon,” She begs, legs wrapping around his narrow waist and pressing her heels into his bum.

They both know what she wants but he wants to hear her say it.

“C’mon, tell me. Say it and I’ll give it t’you,” He rumbles as he thrusts in with loud, smacking noises echoing through the room.

She blinks up at him with twinkling doe eyes, a small smirk on the side of her lips, as she says in a kittenish voice, “Choke me, daddy.”

And like that, his hand is collaring her throat and lightly pressing down until her breathe catches in her throat.

“Come f’me, m’desperate lil’ thing. All those people with those nasty signs and all I can think about it y’perfect cunt,” He murmurs in her ears, pressing just a bit more and then just like clockwork - she tenses and begins to come and he lightens his grip and releases when he follows soon after her.

👀👀👀👀👀

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

Can you write overprotective long hair harry imagine?? Like he always hovers the reader when she is doing something or even nothing. Or when she needs to run errands he always go with even though its not required. And when reader fell sick he is full on mommy daddy mode dom!h vibes

A/N: OOPS I GOT EXCITED AND WENT OVERBOARD WITH IT :D

Harry’s awfully sweet. He’s a literal sweetheart with those marble sepia eyes, hazelnut curls and that big golden kind heart of his's.

But, to people he’s intimidating. From the black loiter of tattoos, a silver of piercing to the corner of his plush bottom lip and those long curls of his's that frays his broad strong shoulders turns everyone too giddy to talk to him and he's okay with that – bunch of loosers anyways whom he doesn’t want to waste his time on chit-chatting.

Then Y/N came into his life and his world flipped upside down, in a beautiful way (where he felt like floating into the crashing waves of crystal sea). It felt like she made him see the world through pink heart-shaped glasses and everyone’s just bursting into rainbows, puffaw! Boom! Their heads blasting with colourful confetti and ribbons.

Even though his slight grouchiness towards people lessened he still doesn’t gives two fucks before punching the shit out of someone if they in any way hurts, be rude and try to take physical and emotional advantage of, Y/N.

His bunny.

He’s too protective of her. And why wouldn’t he? She’s his everything. His little miracle and his hype-person, his lovie.

He’s the softest peach for her. The guy who walks and everyone scrambles away to give him a way, is whipped for his girlfriend.

He’s always having his strong arm looped around her waist when they’re out and walking, going to hold her hands instead if she’s too wiggly, keeping her close to his chest while he holds their coffees and sweets.

Whenever they’re doing grocery he’s always wheeling the cart around how much Y/N insists and pouts, he likes it that way. Hearing her blabber and skim her eyes down the ingredients labelled on the products then tossing it anyway with a shrug – makes him want to smooch her wet in kisses.

If they’re partying out with friends. Which they rarely do, (Y/N sometimes makes fun of them saying they’re getting too domestic day by day) he’s always having her put in his lap, his screwed up expression lazing when the alcohol starts to kick in and he’s just a blubbering mess of nonsense, and a very horn dog with his cock bloating up in his tight skinny jeans.

Not that he doesn’t let her have a breather and enjoy herself. He indeed does, they’ve a healthy relationship where they keep trust and faith in eachother.

But, sometimes he gets super jealous when people steal his little girlfriend away from him and once home he’s cuddling and oodling her, kissing her face all over with loud smacks and not letting her be away from him another second even it’s too bring him water or to get rid of his smelly socks.

Other times. When he’s particularly very jealous. The serious ones where Y/N unintentionally spends a tad more time at some of her classmates to wind up their upcoming project, he’s driving himself to pick her up and knocking at the door harshly and then dragging her out of there not letting her carry her stuff and huffing and puffing while throwing her things in the backseat.

Because Jeremy’s a sore rascal who’s shit at hiding his crush for Y/N and he should know better to whom she belongs. His innocent baby is too naive towards the possible hints and evil intentions of people.

“Oi. What got into you today?” She brushes the loose curl that escaped from his bun and let her fingers slide down his tight set angry jaw staring him a bit concerned upon seeing him this furious and ruffled up from nowhere.

“You’re mine,” Is all he'd respond. Smashing his lips against hers in a an ardent kiss and glide his palm down her ass to squeeze it and bring her closer grinning when she squeals into his mouth giving him a chance to slip his tongue in and kiss her deeper and sloppier.

“You’re a silly geese.” She giggles whisper into the mess of pecks and lock her elbows around his neck to give him an eskimo kiss.

“Watch y’mouth.” He glares her intensely loving the way Y/N gulps timidly bobbing her head.

“You’ll get a spanking today,” He always likes to warn her before hand. He wants her comfortable with him in every case and it’s downgrade monstrous to treat the person you love like a mean bitch out of blue -- so whenever she deserves a punishment he already announces her of it, warming her to the idea and giving her time to back away if she doesn’t want it.

“What did I’do now!” She whines and he nibbles onto his knuckle glancing her way in disbelief other hand on steering wheel, “What did y'do?” He asks her sternly. Spreading his palm over her thigh and squeezing it grimly.

“Did y'even care to look at the time, Y/N?” Oh boy. She’s in real trouble. Her name on his tongue never fails to turn her insides gooey and pause her heartbeat horribly. A red light for her to being bratty before she falls into the deep black dig of trouble.

Reaching home. He’s throwing her on the bed and demanding her to lay still on her tummy while he puts a pillow under her and spanks her bum sore with his rings imprinting her skin pink, though he never forgets to take care of her afterwards – putting a cool cream to soothe the burn and letting her sleep on his chest so she wouldn’t come in contact with the sheets as he kneads her asscheeks with gentle hands.

He could never have his hands to himself when she’s cooking and baking for them. Always, poking and prodding around having her head tucked under his chin, her embraced in his arms from back swaying them along to Hozier while she reads the recipe she wrote on one of the tiles.

“Stop!” She giggles, squirming in his arms when he blows raspberries against the dip of her neck and then creates growly noises biting and lapping into her skin, “You’re gonna burn our lunch!” She pressed her hips against his crotch to push him away and that warmed him more, delving his fingers more into her hips with a throaty groan.

“We could have a takeout.” His breath shuddery against her ear as he tries to pry the spatula away from her and kiss her grumpy whines down when the pots actually got burned, “I’ll wash and scratch them.” He’d assure picking her up and wrapping her legs around his hips and slipping his fingers in her hair to tug them and bring her mouth down against his’s to taste her.

“Wants to fuck you so bad, baby. My cock’s been weepy fo’ hours without your touch.” He groans, taking her hand and sneaking it inside his joggers to make her feel how stiff and erect he’s for her.

“I just gave you a blowie in the morning!”

“Blowie isn’t equivalent to fucking!”

“What y'readin,?” He scoots closer to her end of sofa with a smirk and towers over her trying to take a peek of whatever she’s reading with such intensity and then rake his warm palms up her calves to lay them over his thighs while he snuggles her wrapping a chonky blanket around them.

“Shhh baby girl, just want you to be more comfy.” He mumbles into her hair scratching his short nails against her scalp in soothing motions and watch her melt against his touch, eyes fluttering as she lurks dangerously to the verge of sleep.

“You always do that. Whenever the hot part’s about to come, you make me all sleepy.” She mutters laying her head against his clavicles gazing him up with hazy eyes, sighing in feign disappointment when he grins down at her in quite victory and gives her a sloppy kiss.

“What do y'need erotica fo’ baby? When your man’s the living walking momentum of sex.” He pouts, grazing his teeth down her neck and leaving a fresh hickey at her throat.

“That’s infact not, true. You’re such a cutie!” She beams up at him never failing to give him dancing butterflies in his stomach and he doesn’t admits it but he likes getting treated soft and gentle by his girlfriend.

“Such a shame. My own little love doesn’t find me sexy.” He grumps dramatically making her scramble hesitantly and turn to him in their tight embrace, cradling his face in her cold palms, “No. No. I find you sexy. I just don’t like sexualising you.” If Harry didn’t turn into a puddle before he indeed did now as he melted into her touch and kissed the inside of her hands lovingly.

“You’re sucha sap!” He whispers at her in fake offence and plant his lips against hers, patting her bum to make her hug him more tightly.

On cleaning and laundry day’s. He’s always helping her. As they scrub and mop the floors together, might fuck on them bubbly floors too if Harry’s lusty gaze remains on her spilling tits for too long.

“Thinks your floral bra needs a wash too, moppet.” His gradual attempts to lure her with his fingers stroking her thighs seductively always turns into a win when she nods shyly into his neck and let him have an easy access to her panties.

They’re always having a warm, full of essence bath together cleaning and washing the dirt off eachother after that.

Then sharing a cuppa tea while folding their clothes together on the bed and he’s always trying to tackle her into mattress when she laughs at his terribly folded clothes compared to her neatly binded ones.

“Your sucha menace,” He jests with his nose skewered up while he smacks her ass.

“Talk for yourself, Styles.” She retorts, tangling her knee around his waist and pulling him down into him. Puffing out relaxed breaths upon feeling safe and protected under his weight and Harry always smiles into the crook of her neck when she tries to cuddle him as if she wants to be his skin.

He’s the most daddiest when she’s drunk, sick or stressed.

Never letting her go out of his sight when she’s dancing on the floor with her friends. If some man even tries to approach her and breaths in her direction he’s sprinting towards her and pawing at her hips to situate her closer to him whilst blowing those potential guys off with a monotone expression.

“Harry! Do a lil dancey dance with me!” She giggles, making him sway with her and looking up at him with glassy floaty eyes.

“Bunny. ‘s late, time to go home.” He tells her, pinching her chin to plant his lips against hers and she squirms giving him a timid smile, “Okie. But I’ve to pee.”

“Me too!” Her friends chimes from behind her and Harry rolls his eyes playfully, gesturing all of them to follow him.

“C’mon you spies, not lettin’ ya’ll go alone.”

He waits for them outside the washroom while they do their business and he has his arms always splayed open for when his lovie comes back and he’s welcoming her in his embrace warmly with a sweet smile.

Dying with fond injecting in his every vein when she slurs and blabbers, “Home.”

Walking her up the stairs of their flat’s building is the most hefty struggle while she’s a sleepy, clumsy and giggly muck of doe gleaming eyes and swollen pretty lips drooling over Harry testing his patience while he makes her take one step at a time.

“Darling, bunny, just some mo' steps lovin’.” He coos at her, putting a firm hand under her bum and heaving her up into him so she doesn’t falls.

“Mhmmm you’re so pretty, daddy.” Harry’s head snaps in surprise as he stares down at her in adoring amusement and push her head under his chin while she slings her arms around his waist lazily.

Sometimes, she gets him so flustered he doesn’t know how to respond.

She whines and cries in dishevelment when Harry makes her sit on the cold marble counter and wipes her makeup off.

“I just wan’ to sleep!” She toes at his torso trying to push him away but he grabs it and tuts, glowering at her strictly, “You’re g'na complain in the mornin’. Sleepin’ with makeup makes ye' breakout remember?” When she still huffs and slumps giving him a hard time to clean her he’s pinching her chin and giving her a gentle jerk.

“Bunny. Stop with ye' battiness.” He grunts not letting his facade slip when she mewls stroking her cheek up and down his lightly stubble covered cheek softly.

“Else what? Y'never punish a sleepy bunny.” She smirks at him foppishly and lazily knowing damn well that one of thing Harry doesn’t do’s tease or punish her when she’s tuckered out and on the edge of sleeping on him.

“You don’t test me bratty woman.” She squeals when he takes hold of her panties to pull them down her legs, slapping her mound once discarding it in the hamper and he sighs when she’s already snoring lightly, slobbering his throat with her mouth parted comically.

After pattering her face with loving kisses he’s tucking her under the layers of blankets and letting her use him as her stuffie.

“Aw poor baby.” He mumbles, kissing her forehead when he finds her burning up against him and he’s quickly rummaging for thermometer from the night stand and the tissues he had stashed for emergencies.

“I don’t feel good,” His heart breaks when Y/N croaks out weakly and tries to crawl up his chest to stuff her face in his musky neck but her frail limbs gives out making her cry out.

“It’s okay bunny, ‘s okay. How but I make you some soup. Then y'take your medicines like a good girl of mine, then if your condition gets worse we’ll go to doctor, yeah baby?” He talks to her gently and sweetly, stroking her hair and peppering kisses to her temples.

“Just last bite, moppet.” Harry hovers the spoon infront of her and sighs when she shakes her head pushing his wrist away, “I’ll puke.” She sniffs blowing her nose harshly in the tissue .

“The bin’s right here, bunny.” He smoothens his hand down her spine putting the tray aside carefully to snuggle and comfort her as she cries softly against his chest.

“’M so sorry baby, you’ll be alright in the morning.” He couldn’t see her in such condition. It pulls and tugs at his heart so painfully he feels himself hurting.

“Oi. Why you crying, hmm?” He cups her cheek and makes her look at him as she skims her eyes away from him jn embarrassment.

“I —- You’re so caring and loving, treats me so good and it makes me c.. cr–-,” She hiccups finding it hard to breath and Harry rubs her back, whispering affinities in her ear making her finally sob, “Cry....” He chuckles softly pelting kisses upon kisses on her puffy eyelids, soaky dried up cheeks, her frowned up forehead, her wobbly chin and her nipping love bites down her chest then blowing raspberries at his own slick covering her skin making her giggle through her hiccups.

“I love you.” She whispers droopily, head lulling to his chest when the effect of medicine finally starts to kick in.

“I love you too, I want my healthy and happy bunny back.” He mumbles, inhaling a huge puff of her scent and squishes her lovingly.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry smut #cute harry #harry styles #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

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divine-mistake · 3 years

Text

bitter fruit

Summary: “The mission was already a success!” you say and you can feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You will yourself to blink them back. “You had the files, the base was set to detonate, I don’t understand why you didn’t just stay on the fucking jet.”

“Because you were going to die.”

Characters: Bucky Barnes/(f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut (oral fem receiving, Bucky is a slut for consent), language, graphic depictions of violence, blood

Word Count: 9338

A/N: This is a tumblr request for @buckybarnes101 who requested an enemies to lovers with eventual smut and I got so so carried away with this request and ended up writing this 9k chonker! (5k of it is smut so, carry on) HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! Enjoy!!

main masterlist | AO3

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you snap, “maybe about saving all the innocent people that’ve been trapped in HYDRA’s basement for god knows how long?”

Bucky snarls at you, grabbing the front of your tac-suit and pulling you up until your nose is inches from his. A striking pain shoots through your side like a bullet, which is funny, considering the hole he stitched up for you what seemed like seconds ago.

But just like your relationship, numb one second and blazing the next, it’s like some switch has flipped in his brain in a matter of minutes.

You should really give him some more credit—the man describes his brain as spaghetti most days. And as funny as it sounds, it really isn’t. You’re keenly aware of the haunted look that fills his eyes when he struggles with his past.

Except when he acts like this, it’s hard to remember that.

Something smells of smoke and gunpowder. People are screaming. The men who just ran through the door are shouting in Russian, you know, because you’ve heard the same language from Bucky’s mouth when he’s having nightmares. Faintly, you realize there’s a pain just above your hip. You don’t have time to look. The gun is in your hands and you’re firing. Someone—innocent, crying—bumps into you as they flee the scene. Your shot goes wide.

Bucky’s voice crackles over the comms. “Where are you?” He sounds panicked.

“Got held up,” you respond. “I’m on my way. Civilians headed to you.”

He curses your name. “I told you to get back to the jet!”

The butt of an assault rifle is hurtling toward you and you duck, rolling across the dirty concrete. The pain in your side flares up, burning. You think you might’ve gotten shot. You return the favor, killing two more HYDRA agents.

“I took a detour.”

A moment to breathe. Your eyes roam over the cells that you uncovered in the base, checking for any signs of life you previously missed. It’s all dead bodies and blood. You’re starting to feel weak.

“Get back to the fucking jet, agent! The base is rigged to blow!”

Before you can reply, someone grabs you by the hair, the muzzle of a gun pressed into your neck. On reflex and instinct alone, you thrust your elbow into his side and disarm him just in time. The gun goes off, bullet lodging in the concrete. Fucking slug would’ve ripped right through you.

“Bit busy,” you reply to Bucky.

Your name is lost to the sound of you firing the last few rounds into your attacker. When you’re sure he’s dead, you slump to the wet floor, knees unable to hold you any longer. The pain in your side is killing you—probably literally. A gasp escapes you when you press your fingers to the wound, trying to staunch the blood from the bullet hole, but at this point, you guess it doesn’t matter. The base is going to go up in flames in a few more minutes and you don’t have the strength to get back to the quinjet.

And really, you don’t want to. Bucky’s gonna be pissed.

“Hey, Barnes,” you wheeze through the comms. He doesn’t reply. “You know how you got all pissy at Sam when he ate your last loaf of that banana bread, and you put all those laxatives in his brownies and he was shitting for like, days? Yeah, that was me. I ate your banana bread.”

He never replies, but you chuckle all the way until you fall asleep, cheek pressed into a pool of someone’s blood.

He says your name now, catching your attention again, and when you roll your eyes at him he shakes you again. With a hiss of pain, you try and shove him away from you, but his dumb super soldier ass is too heavy.

“That hurts!”

“Good!” Bucky finally lets you go and you slump against your seat, wincing. “Maybe the pain will make you stop being so fucking reckless! You defied a direct order from your captain. You could have died.”

“Maybe I should have,” you mutter back, not looking at him.

“I should be so lucky,” he seethes. “If I hadn’t gone back for your dumbass, your body wouldn’t have even been recovered. You would have rotted in that damn HYDRA base. Is that what you want?”

You snort. “Ain’t like I got a family who wants my ashes.”

Bucky throws up his hands, exasperated, and then decides to pace up and down the aisle of the jet. He doesn’t look at you, and you only sneak glances at the rage painting his face when you’re sure he isn’t going to see you staring. He looks just as worn as you, the sole sleeve of his tac-suit bloody and ripped up, charred remains and soot skimming his boots where he’s tied the laces tight. Sweat-matted and probably dried with blood, his hair is falling in chunks from the bun he usually keeps it in for missions now, and he has to brush it out of his face every few paces he takes.

In another phrase, Bucky is fucking hot right now.

Maybe death would have been tragic, you muse, since you wouldn’t get to see the absolute specimen of your partner anymore.

For as much as you two hate each other, you can’t deny how gorgeous he is. Ripped to match the gods, carefully trimmed beard only a little more bristled than the one Steve sports these days, and god, the man wears a sweater like it’s Armani.

When you blink, you realize he’s looking at you, and your face flushes. It isn’t the first time he’s caught you staring at him hungrily, you’re sure, but most of the time he gets this stupid smug look on his face, lips wide in a smirk, and sometimes he’ll even throw you a flirty little line that has you gnashing your teeth and snapping at him to fuck off.

But this time, he’s so angry that he just stares at you, eyes narrowed in a glare.

“When we get back,” he says, nostrils flaring, “I’m benching you.”

“What?” you cry out, eyes wide. “Why the fuck—who the—who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Your captain!” he roars, and you almost swear the whole jet shakes with his fury. “You disobeyed my direct order to retreat to the jet and instead you almost cost us both our lives. Why the fuck shouldn’t I bench you?”

“I didn’t ask you to come save me!” you shout back, trying to stand from your seat. Almost immediately, Bucky shoves you back down.

“Not only am I your captain for this mission, but I’m your partner. I’m responsible for you. What, you just expect me to leave you behind?”

“The mission was already a success!” you say and you can feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You will yourself to blink them back. “You had the files, the base was set to detonate, I don’t understand why you didn’t just stay on the fucking jet.”

“Because you were going to die.”

The way that Bucky is looking at you right now steals all your breath away, steals all the fight you feel in your bones. You watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way the vein in his neck jumps, the way he holds his jaw tight. His eyes, a blaze of blue, are looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve right in front of him, leaving behind a body bag of skin and bones and teeth. That’s all you are, maybe.

“Stay with me,” he says, voice so close to your ear. “Please, just stay with me, doll.”

It’s all hazy. The world is black. You can’t open your eyes, they’re so heavy. Your body hurts so bad, so fucking bad. Someone is jostling you and it hurts so bad and you just want to open your mouth and scream.

“You’re okay.” It’s Bucky, you realize in some vague fog of a dream. “You’re going to be okay, I’ve got you.”

Your leg feels like it’s on fire. The air smells like the fourth of July, all fire and gunpowder and barbeque. Burnt flesh. It’s hot and thick, the smoke you’re breathing in.

“I have so much to tell you,” he whispers, maybe. Or maybe that’s just how it sounds in your mind. “So much to say to you. So much to apologize for. I need to tell you something. You told me about that dumb fucking banana bread. I have something I gotta tell you, doll.”

What? What does he have to tell you? You want to ask but your throat is so dry and your lips are glued together.

You want to tell him you aren’t dying, and god, he’s being so dramatic. But you can’t, because you might actually be dying.

Instead, you try so so so hard to open your eyes, and a sliver of light invades your vision, and even with the way your eyelids shudder, you can see Bucky’s face. Just a little bit. He’s covered in blood, you think.

Oh, but his eyes. Fuck, you love his eyes. Thank god you opened yours so you could stare at his eyes before you go to sleep again. So blue. So deep. So icy and sad and hurt and beautiful.

“Please,” he says, and you swear it’s the only time he’s ever begged you for anything.

Of course, you tell yourself before your eyes close again. I’d do anything for you.

“Why do you care?” you whisper, and he blanches, because you swear his damned super soldier hearing can even hear your thoughts.

But fuck it, you’re young, wild, and free, and you’re alive now too, so fuck it.

“Why do you care?” you repeat, louder this time, very clearly addressing him. “Why do you care so much if I die? You’ve hated me since the day you met me,” you spit the words out like poison.

Bucky turns away, gaze trained on something other than you and your bloodied tac-suit.

“We’ve always fought about this,” you continue. “This isn’t anything new, Barnes. You knew I’d go down to save those people. You knew I’d risk my life to get them out. You know this and you still fucking went after me. So why?”

The silence eats at every edge you have until it consumes you, and Bucky never replies.

You watch him walk away, toward the cockpit, and you don’t have the energy to follow him and finish the fight.

“Get it through your pretty little head before you go on a mission and get yourself killed, doll.” Bucky’s smirk sends a shiver through you and you aren’t sure if it's anger or arousal. You bite down on your tongue to keep from lashing out. “You can’t save everyone.”

“Bullshit,” you say before you realize. Bucky’s eyes go wide. “I took this job because I have the ability to save people, so I’m going to save everyone.”

His mouth opens but you cut him off.

“I don’t care if you can’t save everyone, but me?” Your finger is braced against his hard chest and he doesn’t recoil. “I’ll save everyone or I’ll die trying.”

“Hey,” Steve says, trying to move between you two, but you barely notice his presence.

“You’re stupid,” Bucky hisses.

You smirk. “You’re not as skilled as you think you are.”

“Shut up,” he snarls.

“Make me,” you snap back.

“Guys,” Steve tries to interrupt.

“Meet me in the ring.” Bucky’s eyes are glaring down at you, heated. “Let’s see if you can handle me, doll.”

“Buck!” Steve’s hand falls on Bucky’s shoulder, working to hold him back from stalking off to the gym. But Bucky shrugs him off.

“Back off, Steve.” He looks over his shoulder at you as if daring you to follow.

And, fuck, you’ve never backed down from a challenge in your entire life, so you follow him all the way to the training room, watching the way his muscles strain through his tight t-shirt the whole way.

He’s kind enough to hold the ropes up so you can duck under easier, but you roll your eyes and leverage your foot against the spring and tuck your legs underneath you to jump the top rope easily. You throw him the same look that he did, a coy gaze over your shoulder, and then you beckon him forward.

His nostrils flare and you wonder what he’d look like on top of you in bed.

“Wrap your hands, for god’s sake,” Steve shouts, but you ignore him in favor of cracking your knuckles for good measure.

“I’m not planning on getting mine bloody,” you tell him, and Bucky laughs brusk.

“You should plan on losing,” he says, smirking.

With a twist of your jaw, you crack your neck. “Not planning on that, either.”

Like big cats, the two of you circle each other, toes so light the mat makes no noise. Bucky’s eyes are focused, narrowed, and beautiful like this, you think. He’s calculating every single movement you’re making and it sends a heat down to your core. This is all just foreplay to you.

Until he charges, and then it’s on. You’re a flurry of limbs, defensive stances and blocks. Bucky is unrelenting and the fucker is fast for his size. He never uses his metal arm to attack, but the manic whirr and click of it as he moves is alarming. There’s a window of opportunity when Bucky overshoots a right hook and you duck underneath his arm, and you’re able to get behind him and kick him the back of his knee. He falters for not even a second and then it’s back on.

It’s a dance, weaving between limbs and twirling kicks aimed at his head. You struggle to figure out how to take him down—he’s so big, like a fucking brick wall. There’s very little chance you can flip him. You’re going to have to try and get him in a hold, but there’s no way he’s going to allow you to do that.

But maybe you can bait him. You go on the attack now, whiffing a couple of good punches and sending a straight kick right at his jaw that he barely dodges. While you’re recovering, before your foot is even planted back on the mat, Bucky does exactly what you want him to do. He slides up with a fist and you feign a misstep, ducking right. His follow-through is too heavy and you grab his wrist, locking it in your grasp, and then your heel goes straight into his abdomen, right under his center of gravity.

He goes down and you relish in the moment his eyes blow wide with the shock of being caught off guard. You scramble on top of him but he rocks his hips up and starts to roll you both until you’re underneath him. In retaliation, you lock one foot around his calf and use your other knee to jab his stomach, and then you roll him underneath you instead. Your forearm presses against his neck, legs squeezing his middle.

God, he’s fucking pretty, his blue eyes all big and pants falling out of his pink lips. Sweat is dripping from his hairline and rolling off the bridge of his nose and it pleases you, the fact that you made Bucky Barnes bust his ass in a fight. You know you have to look like a drowned dog by now, so how the fuck is he still so pretty? For that, you press down on his throat harder until he taps the mat—a yield.

Immediately you’re off him, panting as you lean against the ropes, but a shit-eating grin is plastered on your face. Bucky looks anywhere but you, wiping his damp face on his shirt, which gives you the most perfect flash of his carved abs.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “we can agree to disagree, right?”

He stares at you for a hard moment, a longer moment than he has before, and you swallow as desire crawls up your spine. Then, Bucky ducks under the ropes, grabs his towel, and gets the hell out of dodge.

“Fuck you too, Barnes!” you shout, and you know he must’ve heard you.

He helps you walk off the quinjet and you hate literally every second of every moment that you have to have his arm wrapped around your waist. Mostly because you’re pissed at him and you hate being babied, but also because god, you can imagine Bucky holding you like this in a different context way better than you should be able to.

Those thoughts are the demons in your brain and you need someone to exorcise you. Probably Natasha. No, Natasha will make fun of you. Wanda, then.

As soon as you’re out of the hangar, Bucky asks FRIDAY if there’s anyone in the medbay, and your neck about snaps in half from how fast you turn.

“No,” you say. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to medical.”

He cuts you a glare. “As if you have a say in it.”

“I do have a say! It’s my body! This is the twenty-first century, Barnes. My body, my choice!”

“You’re injured,” he grits through his teeth. “We’re going to medbay.”

“I don’t need to go!” You start dragging your heels, trying to make yourself heavier, but Bucky is a super soldier and probably throws mack trucks for a living or something. “You stitched me up! The burns aren’t that bad, either. I’m fine, I’m not going to medical.”

“God, can you ever give me a break?” he groans. “Why are you always so fucking difficult?”

“I’m not being difficult!” you snarl, trying to push away from him, but his grip tightens. “Why the fuck do you care so much?”

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, maybe I am, since I don’t know why the fuck you give two shits about saving my quote-unquote dumbass who almost got us both killed, and I don’t know why the fuck you care about getting me to medical when you’re gonna bench me anyway! Right, thanks a lot Barnes, I’m so stupid for not fucking figuring it out!”

“You are!” he roars, and then your back is against the wall, his hand cushioning your head from hitting it. He corners you there, covering your body with his, ducking down so your mouths are so close you would only need to reach up a little to kiss him, and god, that’s tempting.

Not tempting enough when you’re this pissed off, though.

“So that’s what it is, huh? You just think I’m some stupid, incapable little girl who is so impractical because all she wants to do is save lives? You think I’m so stupid that I don’t know that people are going to die? And they’re going to die because I can’t save them? Maybe you should think about how I could never live with myself if I didn’t do everything possible to save them, so I risk my life to get them to safety. I would never ever risk yours, you stupid, arrogant, ignorant—”

Oh, Jesus.

His lips are hot when they crash against yours, pinning you between him and the wall. It’s desperate, the kind of kiss you’ve never had before. It’s so desperate and you want to pull away and ask him, Bucky, what are you so desperate for? He kisses you like he wants to keep you, his mouth swallowing yours like he can’t get enough of you. It’s hungry and begging and you don’t ever want it to stop, your teeth nipping blood from his bottom lip as if it’ll stop him from leaving, but he pulls away, leaving you breathless anyway.

“You’re stupid,” he repeats again and you watch his tongue dart out to taste the blood you’ve ripped from his skin. It sends a thrill of pleasure through you. “You’re so stupid.”

And he kisses you again and you decide that sure, maybe you’re stupid, you’ll be stupid all day long because he’s going to kiss you stupid.

It’s your hands that move first, you realize in some random corner of your mind. Your fingers twine in his brown locks, tugging the hair tie away and flinging it somewhere. Vaguely, you realize you’re still in the middle of the hallway, on the way to the elevator, but you don’t give a shit. The hand that isn’t twisting Bucky’s scalp finds the material of his tac-suit and starts pulling at all the straps and buckles, searching for a sliver of his hot skin in any capacity.

His own hand, the one not holding the back of your head, skims over your waist and flutters down your uninjured hip, grasping at the flesh underneath your suit. Suddenly, you’re overcome with the need to get these fucking clothes off, and immediately, and you break the kiss so you can suck down air and ask the man you’ve been hating, been pining after, to take you to bed.

As you do, Bucky trails a hot path of sloppy kisses down your chin, over your jaw, against your neck, until he finds the juncture of your shoulder and attaches his teeth there, nibbling on a patch of skin that is so distracting you forget about your question for a minute. And then your fingers run over a rough spot on his suit and you remember.

“Bucky,” you gasp out, and it sounds so heady that you nearly throw your head back. “Bucky,” you repeat, more urgently, when he doesn’t let up, your hand is tightening on his sleeve and tugging on it.

His head snaps up now, eyes piercing yours, concerned.

“Are you okay?” he asks, moving your hair away from your face to look closer at you.

“Bed,” you rasp out, but barely. “Now, please.”

He doesn’t move for a second, just staring at you like he’s scared, like he’s surprised you would ask. You see his eyes sort of glaze over, a reminder of the nightmares he’s seen, the nightmares he replays over and over in his head, but you’re selfish and your core is pulsing with a heat you’ve never felt this hot before and you need him here, not wherever his mind is taking him.

“Please, Bucky,” you say, and he blinks, and then he’s present again.

“Anything for you, doll,” he whispers, and your legs nearly collapse beneath you at the thought. Bucky scoops you into his arms carefully, trying not to jostle your wound too much, and then he sweeps you into the elevator and you’re speeding toward his room and hoping to god that Steve isn’t prowling around.

In a haze of kissing and excitement, you barely recognize that Bucky’s opening his door until it’s closed behind you and he’s walking you through his room and to his bed.

God, you’ve wanted to be in his bed for so fucking long.

He drops you among the sheets gently, so starkly different from the harsh tone of his voice only a few minutes earlier when he was yelling at you, and you’re not sure what you like better. You want Bucky to fuck you, to rip you in half and put you back together like he always does. But you want him, so badly, to make love to you just as much, but you’d never admit that to him.

Bucky’s kissing you so sweetly now, and then his kisses get more forceful, more needy, and you suck on his tongue until he’s panting above you. His hands are everywhere, sliding over your suit, unstrapping and unzipping and unbuckling all your gear, and your hands fumble in tune with his, trying to help him get you out of your clothes.

Just before he takes off your vest, he kisses you and asks, “Is this okay?”

You rip the vest off yourself, sitting up on your elbows to rip your undershirt off with it, leaving you in a black sports bra.

And you revel in the way Bucky stares at this new flesh. His lips find your sweaty skin, covering every inch that’s been revealed now as your fingers start taking his tac-suit apart the way he did yours. Soon, you’re frustrated, and you whine and pull at it until he huffs a laugh and takes it off himself. His vest gets thrown to the side and his tank top follows, leaving him bare-chested.

Your fingers are shaky as they touch his tanned skin and you almost laugh at how nervous you are. You’ve spent so long looking at him, hating him, wanting him, and now you have this stretch of his wide chest in front of you and all you can do is let your fingertips glide over him, mouth parted, eyes hazy.

His pupils are blown wide, too, and Bucky takes your hand in his and presses it against him harder, and suddenly you’re feral.

Your hands slide over every part of him, taking in the expanse of him. His biceps, his strong shoulders, the hard planes of his body. As gentle as possible, you trail your fingers closer and closer to the scar where metal meets flesh, and you glance up at him, a silent question, and when he gives you the smallest nod, you smooth over the gnarled rift of skin. You don’t ask if it hurts. He gives no indication that it does. And when you reach up to press a soft kiss to it, he shudders above you.

“Please,” he whispers, so quietly. “Let me touch you, doll.”

You lay back and start to unstrap your holsters, gesturing for Bucky to help you with your pants. He unlaces your boots for you as you throw your weapons to the ground, the clink of belts and buckles mingling in the silence, a song that ignites the excitement inside of you.

Your core is molten lava, the apex of your thighs dripping and Bucky hasn’t even touched the most intimate parts of you yet. Every single fiber of your being is trembling in anticipation, and in your hurry to strip your pants off, a twinge of pain shoots through you as you bend the wrong way, stitches pulling.

Bucky curses—like he’s the one who’s hurt you and you aren’t the idiot trying to rip her pants off—and just like he can flip the switch on his attitude, he flips the switch on this, too. He’s off of you before you realize, sitting back on his haunches, staring down at you in panic.

“I’m—Baby,” he breathes, voice shaking. “I'm sorry.”

His hands are outstretched, reaching for you, trembling as he swallows hard. You watch as his eyes shift in the space between your face and the white gauze wrapped around the bullet wound in your side.

“Bucky,” you hiss and grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him down. He doesn’t budge, not much at least, but you meet him the rest of the way and your lips collide with his in a thunderous crash, and like instinct, he kisses you until you can’t breathe.

“Doll,” he mumbles against your mouth and you drink the word from his tongue, distracting him. “We can’t.”

“We can,” you growl back, teeth reminding him of the pulsing ache between your thighs. In search of more, your hips roll up and meet his own, causing a groan to tumble out of his mouth into your own.

Fuck the pain—you’ll grit your teeth and bear it. This is the only moment you’ll ever have him, and by god, you need him.

Your hands return to your pants. “Help me,” you plead, breathless, unable to shimmy out of them. Bucky’s already pulled your boots off, socks coming with them, and his fingers find the heated flesh right beneath your waistband.

“Are you sure?”

All you can do is whine his name until he understands, and then Bucky is peeling your black pants from your legs, the rush of cool air rolling over your hot skin feeling almost as good as his hands are going to feel if he’ll just put them on you.

When his palms finally fall upon your thighs, rough and calloused and big and warm, you need much more, so much more. The way he trails his fingers down your knees, caressing your calves, brushing atop your ankle, and then coming back up to have his thumbs follow the ridge of muscles in your thighs, it all makes you shiver in pleasure. You’re so hot, sweat pooling in the small of your back against the bed, the dampness of your core becoming harder to ignore.

You squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the ache and Bucky notices—of course he notices—and his mouth finds your neck again, sucking until dark bruises begin to mar your skin, until you’re bowing off the bed, arching toward him, trying to get something, anything. Anything from him.

At some point, you realize he’s just torturing you on purpose, letting his hands roam the stretch of your stomach, smooth over the hills of your hips, and then draw down your legs until you’re shaking as he kisses you so softly, and then so roughly, like he can’t decide if he wants to grow old with you or if he wants to ruin you for whoever comes after him.

You sit up and reach around, fingers intent on unclasping your bra, but Bucky stops you with a nip at your bottom lip.

“Will you let me?” he asks, so sweetly. Bucky’s hand finds yours and bats them away, his fingers on the hooks as he waits for your answer.

“Yes,” you moan as his other hand tickles down the curve of your side. “God, please, yes.”

“Bucky,” he says, smirking against the side of your neck.

“Shut up and undress me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, when you ask so sweet like that, baby.”

With a quiet click, your bra comes undone and Bucky pulls it away from your body, and then your breasts are bare before his eyes. Now, it’s your turn to be doused in ice, to freeze, for the switch to flip.

You feel shy beneath his gaze, the way he looks at your nearly naked body with such reverence, as though this is the moment he’s been waiting for. Your knees close and your elbows draw in over your chest without your permission. It’s not like you want to hide from him, but he looks so perfect atop you, so beautiful in every single facet, better than any dream you’ve ever had of him, and you can’t stop yourself.

What have the other girls looked like underneath him? Better than you, surely. Prettier, skinnier, smaller, sexier. For fuck’s sake, you’ve got a nasty burn on the side of your leg and were shot through your left side only a few hours ago, your middle wrapped in medical tape. You can’t be that pretty a picture.

You’ve had your shot at him and you’re gonna lose it.

But when you look up, Bucky’s looking at you like you’re everything. His face is flushed, red creeping down his neck, and his eyes are soft, hazy, glassy. Gently, his fingers find your jaw and cup your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Let me look at you, baby.” His voice is almost as rough as the worn skin of his hand, dry and gravelly and thick with lust. When Bucky moves to grasp your wrists, you let your eyes flutter closed and nod, allowing him to peel your arms away from where they hide you, and you hear the sharp intake of breath he takes.

“God,” his voice shudders. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, doll. I couldn’t have dreamed you up if I tried, and I promise you, I tried.”

Your eyes fly open at this. “What?”

If it bothers him, he doesn’t act like it. Bucky leans down to nuzzle his nose against your collarbone, kissing and licking your skin like he’s making constellations out of your body—bruises connected only by his tongue.

“I’ve thought about this since the day you kicked my ass in the ring.” He sounds like he’s reciting a prayer, all whispered desires. “Your perfect lips, what they’d feel like, how soft they are. If you’d touch my scars, and how your fingers would feel on them all if you did.”

His mouth closes over the mound of your breast, the clash of tongue and teeth upon your nipple forcing you to arch into him in pleasure. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream and you aren’t quite aware that you’re even whining until his free hand crawls up from your hip and cups your other breast, thumb strumming over your peaked nipple. The breathy moans that pour from your mouth fill the room and only seem to make Bucky work faster, work harder, as he drags every drop of pleasure out of you with every instrument he has. Your hips buck up and into his, your thinly-clothed core catching the tent in his pants—his tac-suit, you realize, is still on—and it makes you both groan in a symphony of need.

“Need you,” you somehow manage to get out between your heavy panting, hips still searching for something to relieve the ache in your center. “Bucky, please.”

He releases your nipple from his lips, the chill assaulting the wet bud making you bow from the bed once again. Bucky places a kiss on the other, letting his tongue lave over it until it's just as wet and hard.

“I imagined what you’d sound like,” he says against your stomach, punctuating his words with a smattering of kisses across your skin. “Thought about what you’d—fuck, baby—I thought so much about how you’d look beneath me all spread out, just for me.”

The sound you make in reply is almost embarrassing as how soaked your panties are.

“Wondered how you’d taste.” He lets his tongue drag across the hem of your underwear and you press up, trying to get his mouth closer, but his hands settle on your hips and gently hold you to the bed.

“Bucky!” you try and growl, but it comes out an octave too high. “Please!”

“What is it, babydoll?” His fingers curl underneath, thumbs riding the line of skin just beneath your panties.

“I need you!” You throw your head back against the pillow. “I’ve thought about it too,” you admit, breathing hard. “How you’d touch me like this, how you’d feel inside me, please, so please just—I need you, Bucky.”

“You got me, baby,” he says and it sounds so fucking beautiful. “I’m right here. I got you, doll. Gonna take care of you, okay? Will you let me give you what you need?”

You answer by trying to press your hips up again, and Bucky shifts until his hands are cupping your ass and he drags you down the bed, closer to him, closer to his own hips where you can feel the bulge of his cock begging to be released.

“Your pants,” you remind him, wrapping your uninjured leg around the back of his thigh. “I want to feel you, please, Bucky.”

“Okay, doll,” he says, laying a kiss just above your panty line again, and then he’s pulling away and you whine despite it.

You listen as Bucky fiddles with his gear, going through the same motions as you had to go through earlier. The clink of his knives, the buckles of his holsters, the heavy soles of his boots as he throws them off. When you sit up, Bucky is standing in his black boxers, the faint light streaming into his room highlighting the shine of the scars that cover his body.

He looks as breathless, as flustered, as aroused as you feel. His hair is mussed from your hands, falling over his shoulder in the thick waves that feel so soft between your fingers. The lust is evident in the way his eyes roam over your body, his pupils blown wide, and then he’s moving toward you and fitting himself between your legs on the bed.

Bucky slides his hands over your heated skin yet again, a reminder of how much he wants you, how much he loves the feel of you, before his fingers hook inside your panties and begin to pull them down. Before he gets too far, he stops again, gaze flicking up to meet yours.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod, lifting your hips as carefully as possible in order to keep from jostling your wound, and Bucky slips the last piece of clothing from your body. You hope, fucking christ you hope, he doesn’t realize how soaked they are when he peels them off, but maybe that’s a lost cause.

Because as soon as you’re naked, your glistening core bare to his eyes alone, all bets are off. There are no more barriers, nothing for you to hide behind, no sharp words to keep your feelings at bay.

His fingers skim over your lips, collecting all the honey you’ve made for him as his knees widen to spread your thighs. The simple movement has your hips rolling already in search of more, whimpers falling from your mouth as Bucky stares at your naked form beneath him. Eyes lidded, you watch as he brings his fingers, wet with your juices, up to his mouth.

“Shit, doll,” he curses. Bucky’s tongue envelops his digits and he groans at the taste, sending shocks like a fucking earthquake through your body, through your bones, straight to your core.

He moves closer to you, sliding your thighs onto his shoulder and locking his metal arm around the top of your hips, far enough away from your wound that it doesn’t hurt. Bucky peppers kisses along your inner thighs, biting and sucking in intervals that has you pressing your mound to him, begging for more.

“You taste so good,” he mumbles, breath ghosting over your quivering pussy, pulling a wanton whine from your throat. “Will you let me taste you, baby?”

“God, yes, please Bucky, please, I need it so bad.” The words are frantic, strangled, a mess of moans of breathless gasping.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says. “I got you, baby. I got you.”

And then his mouth is on you, hot and slick upon hot and slick, his tongue parting the valley of your lips and delving into your dripping center like he’s a man starved and you’re the first meal he’s tasted in years. You keen in pleasure, thrashing your head against the pillows until your hair is a tangled mess as Bucky’s tongue flattens on your clit, licking a wide path until it’s well-traveled and your hips stutter, held back only by the cooled metal on your heated skin. Your hands find purchase in his hair, fingers tugging at his scalp, and the motion makes him groan into you.

You call his name like it’s the only word you know, chanting it over and over like it’s a spell similar to the one he’s weaving with his tongue upon your aching clit. He doesn’t let up, tracing words you can’t make out and drinking in all the wetness flooding his mouth. The gentle scratch of his wiry beard burns just right, contrasting with the curls of pleasure coming from your sensitive clit. Without realizing, you grind your core against Bucky’s mouth, the friction only serving to make you into a trembling mess, your insides throbbing with a need to be filled, pussy clenching around nothing.

As if he feels you, Bucky slides his free hand over your leg and to the apex of your thighs, the first thick finger entering you slowly, like he’s testing the waters. You cry out, begging for more, and Bucky relents. His second finger follows as his tongue continues to lap at your pussy, letting you gyrate against his face as you try to fuck yourself on his hand.

“Bucky,” you pant, each letter of his name a stutter with moans, “please!”

“Please what, babydoll?” His voice sends another wave of arousal through you, juices slicking his fingers up more than before. Your stomach is tightening, pleasure in tight curls between your legs, center so close to snapping that tears are beginning to leak from your eyes because Bucky won’t fucking let you move your hips in the way that you want. He chuckles against your pussy, breath teasing over you, vibrations making you quiver.

“I’m gonna—”

Bucky curls his fingers inside of you, stroking your spot, just as his mouth envelops your clit in its heat and he sucks, hard, and the thin thread coiling in your core snaps and you come apart, harder, and a scream tears itself from your throat as warm tears fall into your hairline.

He never stops. As his suckling turns into kitten licks upon your clit, his third finger breaches your opening and slips inside, pumping into you as you ride your orgasm out on his hand. Your hand is tight in his hair until it all becomes too much and it falls to cover your mouth, your teeth finding your knuckle to bite back the sound of your moans.

“Oh no, baby, no,” Bucky says, and when you look down, he’s between your legs, watching you in the aftershocks of your pleasure. His fingers leave your pussy and you clench around nothing, a whine leaving your lips at the emptiness, until Bucky’s metal fingers are pulling your hand away from your face.

“I gotta hear you,” he whispers, the hand covered in your nectar finding your mouth. “Need to hear all those pretty little noises you’re making, baby. I’ve dreamed about ‘em. Would get my cock all hard thinking about ‘em. You gotta keep making ‘em ‘cause now that I’ve heard ‘em, I can’t get enough, babydoll.”

When he moves to trace your bottom lip, red and swollen from his own, your tongue darts out to taste the salt and sin on the pad of his thumb. Bucky places his fingers at your parted lips and you suck them into your mouth, licking all the juice from his skin, tongue swirling around his digits. You wonder if his lips taste like this, too.

He groans as he watches you, his eyes lidded and hazy and lovely, and then his metal hand finds the waistband of his boxers and yanks them off his hips. In one perfect movement, his cock slaps against his stomach, hot and red and already leaking, which makes you flush at the fact that Bucky liked making you come.

Subconsciously, your tongue snakes out to lick your lips as you take in the length, the thickness of his cock, and Bucky gets that familiar look on his face—cocky, smirking, knowing that he’s pushing your limits. He presses you back down upon the bed, his arms bracketing your head as his nose brushes against yours, his heat pressing into the subtle dip where your hip and thigh meet.

The feeling of his cock, hard and heavy against your naked skin, sends you into a frenzy of arousal, of want, of need. You reach out and take him into your hand, your thumb brushing over the velvet head and smearing his precum along his length. Bucky’s jaw tightens, muscle twitching, as you pump your fist around him and drag your fingers along the blue vein riding up the underside. The groan that falls from his lips, the stutter and jerk of his hips, the way he shakes above you is addicting, and Bucky has to pull your wrist away from his cock in order to stop you from getting him off just like that.

“Baby,” he breathes, resting his sweaty forehead against yours.

“Bucky, please,” you beg again. “Please, I need you inside me.”

“You want me?” he asks, and even though his voice is scratchy and thick with desire, he says it like he’s surprised. As if you could never want him.

You’ve always wanted him.

“Yes, god, Bucky. I want you,” you moan, threading your fingers into his hair to smash your lips together in a sharp, bruising kiss. “I need you,” you say against his mouth. “I need you so, so bad.”

“I need you too, babydoll. Need to feel you,” he says, the sound strained, almost like he can’t stay away from you any longer. You feel it too, the ache without him, the way your pussy clenches in anticipation for him.

The head of Bucky’s cock nudges at your entrance and your slick coats him. The soft skin of him brushes your over-sensitive clit and you keen, and he does it again, and again, until you’re shaking, until you wrap your ankles around Bucky’s back and pull him into you, raising your hips to meet his.

“You want this?” His voice is heavy when he asks.

“Yes,” you moan out, rocking against him.

He says your name and it sounds pained on his tongue. “Are you sure?”

“James.” Your teeth snap and gnash on his name, and it awakens something within him that sets every place he touches you ablaze with a new sensation, and Bucky enters you with a slow thrust of his hips.

And it feels so fucking good.

Like straining a muscle you haven’t used in a while, it aches as he enters while you stretch to accommodate his size. The way his cock feels inside of you—touching you in places you never thought you’d be touched, filling you in a way you never thought you’d be filled.

He’s finally, finally yours. If just for this moment, Bucky Barnes is yours.

Your nails incise his back, making new marks among the sea of scarring he’s suffered, as you cling to his body in any way to feel him closer to you. Bucky leaves kisses on every surface of your face, your jawline, your neck. He kisses you everywhere and you wish you could tattoo the feeling into your skin.

“Are you alright?” he mumbles faintly into your neck and you can feel how hard he’s trying not to move, not to hurt you, to give you time to adjust to him. Your fingers trail up and down his spine, drifting into his hair, scratching against his scalp.

“Yes,” you hiss, undulating your hips and making a similar sound fall from his lips. “Bucky, please.”

You don’t know how many iterations of that same phrase you’ve said all night, but you’ll keep saying it, over and over, if he’ll take you like this. Just like this, with his arms trapping your body to the bed, his hips flush against yours, panting above you as he stares into your eyes all lustful and dark and wanting. He smells like the Bucky you’re so familiar with, your partner, Barnes, gunpowder and explosions and blood, with the clean scent of whatever deodorant he uses. If he’ll keep you like this, where you can pretend your his for this moment, you’ll say it over and over

Bucky, please—Bucky, please—Bucky, please—please—please—

When he finally moves, thrusting into your heat with a growl, it feels like time stops.

Bucky fucks you like he loves you, slow and steady, pumping into you fully and deeply until you lose your mind. He fucks you like he wants to ravage you, fast and quick and hard as he holds your hips to keep you steady, and you ignore the dull pain that flares up in your side because he’s fucking you like he needs you, like he can’t exist without you. He fucks you like he’ll never get another chance to touch you. When he fucks you like this, his thrusts falling out of rhythm, out of time, he rests his forehead against yours and you lean up to capture his mouth with yours, tongues sliding over one another sloppily.

The heat is building up inside of you again, and when Bucky lifts your hips and drapes you over his knees, pressing you up with his metal arm, his cock hits the spot inside you that makes you scream over and over. The waves are cresting. The crescendo is approaching. Every grunt and groan he makes mingles with your moans and shrieking pleasure, and it’s all going to culminate into one big moment, you can feel it.

Bucky pulls back to slip his hand between your bodies, sweaty and hot, and his thumb presses gently into your clit. With one sharp thrust, your body arches off the bed as you snap, screaming his name, and Bucky holds you through it.

Your vision goes black—you aren’t sure if it's because your eyes are screwed shut in pleasurable pain or if it's because you’ve passed out. Bucky’s hips jerk wildly into yours and you tighten the grip you have around his waist with your legs, digging your heels into the small of his strong back.

“So tight,” he hisses into your ear. “So fucking wet, baby. Feel so fucking right, made for me, aren’t you doll?”

“Yes, James,” you moan out as you ride the waves of your orgasm. “Made for you!”

Bucky works at your clit again as his rhythm starts to fail, and even with how sensitive you are, you feel the pleasure curling inside you again, hot inside your stomach. You clench and jolt whenever his cock hits the right angle, and all of a sudden, you’re on the edge yet again.

“I can’t,” you cry out, nearly a sob lost to the sound of his hips snapping against yours.

“You can,” he says, so gently. “You can, baby, just for me. You said so, right?”

How is he still talking? For fuck’s sake, your tongue feels like its detached from your mouth and all you can muster are the moans and whines that come from the back of your throat Bucky is forcing out of you.

“Come with me,” you beg, you plead. “Please James, please, come with me.”

“Baby—”

You break apart silently, clinging to his body, holding him to you as every fiber of your being is torn into pieces, shattered. As your pussy clenches and spasms around him, Bucky stutters in his thrusts and you pull him into you, willing him to fall over the edge with you, and he follows dutifully.

He groans out your name as he comes inside of you, liquid heat searing the deepest part of you. Falling back against the pillows, you whisper his name and drag him with you, mouth meeting his for one last clumsy, haphazard kiss. Bucky stills inside of you, still throbbing, and then he whispers something against your lips.

“I love you.”

You freeze, eyes wide, and Bucky pulls away from your embrace to look at you.

“What?” you ask, swallowing thickly. “What did you say?”

“I—” He looks nervous now, but his blue eyes are so fucking sincere. “I’m—I’m so sorry, fuck.”

Bucky moves to pull out of you, to leave, but you tighten your legs around his hips and trap him against you. The cocky smirk he wears, the confident smile, even the look of desire he wore while fucking you—it’s all gone. Left in its wake is the ashamed look Bucky wears that makes him seem small, and you want to smooth it away until he looks at you like he wants you again. Like he wants you to be his.

Like he loves you.

“Why are you sorry?” you ask him, stroking a hand through his hair.

“Because—fuck—this wasn’t supposed to happen.” He glances away from you and glares at the floor and a heartbreaking pain shoots through you. Now, he pulls out of you, shifting to get off the bed and clean up, but you can’t stop the words before they tumble out.

“You didn’t want me?”

“What?” Bucky turns and cups your face in his hand, searching your eyes for something, and his thumb wipes away a stray tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

Oh fuck, here it comes. He told you he loved you in a fit of passion and now you’re the stupid, clingy girl that he needs to leave behind. You’re partners, first and foremost, and you shouldn’t have forgotten that.

But god, he made you feel like you were his, and you wanted that so bad. You want it so fucking bad.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, voice shaking and you wonder if you mean it. “I know I’m stupid, and I know you hate me, and I know it was just sex—”

“Baby, no, please.” Bucky brings your face to his and kisses you softly, sweetly, like he adores you. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry because someone like me shouldn’t love someone like you. God, I shouldn’t love someone as perfect as you. I can’t have you, doll. And I’m sorry.”

Oh. Bucky does love you.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

You surge up and slant your mouth over his, hand gripping the back of his neck to pull him down, fingers twining in the fine hairs where his scalp meets his skin. In this one kiss, you pour everything you think you can into it, everything you feel now, everything you’ve felt since you met him, everything you’ve ever felt at every moment you’ve shared with him.

“I love you,” you say when you pull away. “I love you so much, Bucky. I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

His eyes are so wide, so afraid, so confused.

“You do?”

“I do,” you tell him. “God, I’ve wanted you for so long, Bucky Barnes, you stupid man.”

You expect him to kiss you now, but he doesn’t. Instead, Bucky cradles your head in his hand and pulls you to his chest, embracing you in his warm arms. He rolls onto the bed, carefully lifting you until you’re situated on top of him, where you wrap your limbs around him and lay upon his warm body. Bucky lays kisses on the crown of your hair, holding you so tightly against him you think you might suffocate.

“I’ve loved you since the day you kicked my ass, doll,” he admits. You laugh.

“Are you kidding me? I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you,” he says. “I hated that you would sacrifice yourself for others. I still hate it. It’s why you got hurt today and god, the threat of losing you, it scares me doll. I didn’t know what I would do if you died right there in my arms and I never got the chance to tell you all this.”

You glance up at him, at his beautiful face and his beautiful eyes, the man who you hated and who you wanted and who you love. God, you really do love him.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you whisper, pressing an awkward kiss to his bare chest. “Now that I have you, I could never leave you.”

He laughs at that. “Babydoll, you’ve always had me. I can’t believe you never knew.”

You think back to all the times he’s looked at you, dopey grins and cocky smiles and coy glances. You think about how long you’ve leaned on each other in the two years you’ve been partners, how he’s the only person you’ve ever trusted with your life, how you always work to come back to him. You think about the butterflies that stirred in your stomach the first time you met him, when he shook your hand and gave you the prettiest smile you’d ever seen, the same smile he has plastered on his face right now as looks down at you.

Sitting up, you look at Bucky Barnes, chin resting in your palm lazily.

“Maybe I’ve always known,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Maybe I did, too.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #one shot #drabble #fic requests #inbox me to request a fic!#thanks for supporting me!#bucky barnes smut #smut fic #divine masterlist

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proserpina-magnus · 3 years

Note

hi! can you write a peter x reader smut that involves thigh riding, praise, degradation, dirty talk and pet names? thank you! <3

Hi! Thank you so much for requesting this!! I hope you enjoy this, :)

One Where You Ride His Thigh [ Peter Pettigrew ]

Word Count: 1813

[ Warning: female reader, thigh riding, dirty talk, slight degrading kink, praise kink, finger sucking, slight overstimulation, pet names such as “love” “baby” “princess” ”cumsłut” and “Whore“ ]

You skip your way up the Gryffindor boy's steps, Sirius leading the way to his dorm. You have a huge grin on your face, excited to see your boyfriend.

"Wormtail darling, your girlfriend requests to see you," Sirius says, opening the door as he steps in the room with a dramatic pose. Peter looks up from his desk, a smile on his face as he sees you walk into the room. He completely ignores Sirius, watching as you stride over to where he sits.

"Hi baby," Peter says, opening his arms so you can hug him. You crawl into his lap, your legs hanging on either side of his as you pull him closer.

"Aw, how cute, I might barf," Sirius exaggerates, a gross look on his face. Peter only holds up his middle finger, telling his mate to piss off.

"Alright, I'll leave. Wormy, use protection," Sirius whispers loudly, you and Peter both turn your head to him. Sirius makes a face, holding up his hands in surrender. "Okay! I'm going,"

"What'cha doing?" You ask, turning around briefly to get a look at what he's working on. You see scribbled notes of astrology, it makes absolutely no sense but you pretend to understand.

"Astrology homework, but I'd gladly take a break for my princess," Peter says, his arms coming to wrap around your waist. You rest your head on his shoulder, a giddy giggle leaving your lips at the nickname.

"What's so funny?" Peter chuckles, kissing your head in a ticklish way. You giggle again, kissing his cheek with a sloppy kiss. You mumble; "I like when you call me your princess, makes me feel special,"

Peter's face has a gentle red glow to it, happy that he could make you feel special. His hand rubs your back, pushing his fingers below your jumper so he can feel your skin.

"I'm glad, I'll use it more often if it makes you happy," He whispers against your forehead, giving you another ticklish kiss. You sigh happily, leaning your cheek on his shoulder as you let your eyes close.

"I'm gonna go back to work, that's alright?" Peter asks you, pushing his chair closer to the desk. You give a small hum, hearing his quill start to scratch against the parchment paper.

Moments pass by quickly, occasionally Peter would give you gentle head kisses and rub your back. You snuggle closer to his body warmth, almost feeling sleepy.

"Peter," you mumble against his shoulder, eyes slowly opened as you peer at his shirt through your eyelashes.

"Hm? What is it, love?" Peter asks, still scratching his quill against the paper. You don't respond, instead, you lean back slightly to give his jaw gentle kisses.

Peter twitches for a second, his hand firmly on your back as he takes a moment to compose himself. You continue to kiss his jaw, leading your kissing just below his ear.

You place open mouth kisses against his neck, pressing your chest against Peters. He lets out a pressed breath, his quill stops scratching as he takes a moment to have his complete attention on you.

"Wanna get closer," you mumble against his neck, your tongue pressing over his Adam's apple. Peter's hands go to your hips, holding you in place as you continue to devour his neck.

"Can you wait just a bit longer? I'm almost done then I can give you my full attention,"

Peter says, pulling you back slightly to look into your eyes. You whine, giving him a desperate stare as your hands come to hold his shirt.

"Please Peter, so needy," you tell him, Peter completely crumbles under your words. His hands push up your skirt, rubbing your exposed thighs, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Shh, I know love, can you just be a good girl an' wait for me? I'm only gonna take a few more minutes," he tries to reason with you, his voice a soft whisper to try and soothe your desperate needs.

Your body aches for release, a longing look in your eyes. You try and give Peter puppy dog eyes, hoping he would find them irresistible. Peter almost fell into your trap, but he only pushed your head into his chest and picked up his quill.

"Peter, please," you beg, a pleading sound to your voice. His hand comes to your back again, rubbing it gently to try and get you to calm down. "I know princess, I'm almost done,"

"No peter, now," you whine, trying to pull away so you can look at him. He only moves his hand to the back of your head, keeping you still.

When he doesn't respond, you only take accountability into your own hands. You move your hips, placing yourself to straddle one of his thighs.

Your eyes twitch as you give a small grind, his jeans rubbing against your clothed aching cunt. You whimper at the feeling, continuing to grind your body against his thigh.

"I want you to wait, princess's wait for permission," Peter tells you in a gentle voice, his hand on your hip as he continues to scribble down astrology answers.

"Hurts, hurts," you're whining, words mumbled as you try and get Peter to find some sympathy for you. Peter drops his quill, you think he's going to give you the attention you crave but he only pulls you back so you can look at him.

"I know it hurts baby, you're all fussy and achy but I have to finish my work," Peter explains to you, hoping that will help you relax and stay still for him.

"Mhm, don't wanna wait," you say, your body submitting to the feeling of wanting release. You're completely desperate.

"Please, wanna ride your cock," you continue, begging for him to understand your desperation. Peter gives you a look, seeing how fragile you are in the moment.

Peter doesn't respond, instead, he lifts you slightly and slips your panties off as he tosses them onto his bed. His work is left unattended, finally, you're given the attention you need.

His fingers brush over your folds, coating them with your slick juices. You gasp at the feeling, your head on his shoulder as you smile.

"Such a little whore, you're completely soaked n' I haven't even touched you yet," Peter smirked, your pupils blown wide at his comment.

"Sorry," you whisper, embarrassed by his words. Peter only chuckles, kissing your cheek as he places you back down against his thigh. The fabric rubs your clit in a glorious way, making you instantly buck your hips to find friction.

"Open your mouth," Peter demands, his fingertips pressing against your lips. You obediently open your mouth, his fingers pressing against your tongue. A weird taste fills your mouth, making you slightly gurgle.

"How do you taste baby?" Peter asks, a devilish smile on his face as you give a babbled answer. His fingers reach to the back of your throat, pressing your tongue down. You gag on instinct, eyes pricking with tears as your face glows red.

"take my fingers baby, relax your throat f'me," Peter guides you, his other hand on your head as he strokes your hair gently. You do as your told, softening your throat.

Your leaking fluids drip against his pants, making a clear wet stain. You're wiggling and fussing against his thigh, trying to find the friction again.

"You've got me all excited princess, should be ashamed of yourself for distracting me," Peter says in a sweet voice, his words and tone make your stomach do flips. Continuing to grind against his thigh, you realize his forming bulge.

You only let out a babbled response, his fingers still pressing into your mouth. You feel the pads of his fingertips reach your throat, gagging against them. You let out silent tears, your sobs getting muffled against his fingers.

"Shh, you've taken my fingers so well baby, don't start to fuss," Peter coo's in a gentle whisper, easing his fingers back so you can slowly start to suck against them. He wipes your tears away, your eyes peering into his with a frantic look in them.

"Come on, keep moving your hips. Give me a show baby," He says, his hand on your hip as he starts to guide your movements. You start a slow grinding rhythm, sucking his fingers in the same pattern. Drool slips past your lips, eyes twitching at the immense pleasure.

Fireworks build up in your body, your soaking cunt brushing against his jeans. Your movements get faster, Peter watching you in absolute longing.

"Look at you, such a cumslut. You're drooling all over me," Peter chuckles, his fingers slipping away from your mouth. You let out a proper sob, feeling warm waves wash over you every time you grind your body.

"Use your words, princess, let me know how good it feels," Peter quipped, watching as your eyes dilated and you become a pretty mess on his lap. Your hair is clinging to your face, your lips were swollen as drool drips from the corner.

"So good, seeing stars," you blabber, words slurred as you close your eyes from the building pleasure. Electric shocks spark through your body, low moans and whimpers escape your lips as you start to sob from the lovely feeling.

"Oh baby, no need to cry," Peter comforts, his knuckles wiping your constant tears as he shushes you gently. Your body moves quicker, your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself. Peter wraps his arm around your waist, rubbing your hip. "I've got you, let it all out baby, gonna cum f'me?"

"Feels so so good, so close," you drawled, you squirm and press your thighs closed. You continue to ride yourself onto his thigh, your clit rubbing against the fabric is enough to send you completely over the edge.

Your body shakes with pleasure, your fingers gripping onto Peter's shoulders as you cum against his thigh. Your body squirms, Peter's hands come to hold you still.

You gasp and let out a whimpered cry when Peter bounces his leg. Peter has to grip you harder to keep you still, his lips in your hair as he gives a gentle kiss.

"Such a pretty sight, can you do it again for me?" Peter asks, continuing to bounce his leg. Your eyes roll back, whimpered whines and moans leave your throat.

"Cant, too much," you respond, eyes drooping as you lean yourself against his chest. Tears start to form again from the overstimulation, crying into Peter's shoulder.

"I know you can do it, I'll do all the work. You just lean against me and make those pretty sounds," Peter says, watching as you twitch in his embrace.

"Okay," you splurge, lifting a tired arm as you try and find Peter's hand. He gladly intertwines his fingers with yours. He starts to bounce his leg again, gentle praises fill your ears as he works his way to make you cum a second time.

#marauders #marauder smut #young peter pettigrew #young peter pettigrew smut #peter pettigrew x reader #peter pettigrew x you #young peter pettigrew x reader #Peter Pettigrew smut #marauder x reader #sirius black #harry potter smut

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

Text

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. lxxi - really proud of you sweetie ❤❤

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

The whole time you went out to buy snacks with San and Jongho, you couldn't help but think about how Yeosang was still cold towards you.

"Okay, first of all, you're not gonna let that shithead get to you, you got me?" San firmly said as he threw a bag of chips at Jongho's head, obviously aiming at the basket in his hand but he miscalculated.

"Second, hasn't he opened up to you slightly? Pretty sure he said something to Hwa hyung about being a dick to you yesterday," San shrugged as the three of you walked towards the cashier.

As Jongho put the basket on the counter, he chimed in with his own opinion, "I say let him be all pissy and bitchy towards (Y/N)," he scoffed.

You let out a whine of protest and smacked Jongho on his arm. Though that barely did anything as he only grinned and pulled you into his arms. "I didn't mean that in a bad way, I just meant that if he decided to back off, the rest of us, aka ME, can have more of you," he whispered into your ear as he snaked his arms around your waist.

Though you were slightly affected by Jongho saying that there was a chance that Yeosang wanted to back off of your relationship, you couldn't help but blush and giggle at Jongho's rather possessive words and actions.

The three of you left the convenience store with two bags. Both of course being carried each by San and Jongho as you stood in between them with your pinkies linked to each other.

"You know, you COULD just show what Yeosang's missing, maybe then he'd realize how much of a bitch he was being and that he'd stop," San said, snickering at himself.

You thought over San's words and realized that he was right. Rather than thinking that you're the one at the disadvantage, you can simply flip things around and make Yeosang break.

So you concocted a plan in your head all the way back and as you got ready for movie night.

Whilst everyone was running around everywhere, pulling blankets and pillows from their rooms, you sat idly by and kept a close eye on Yeosang. The way you were looking at him made it seem like you're a predator and Yeosang's your prey.

As everyone took their seat, you slyly directed each of the boys to sit where you want them to sit, leaving the last comfortable position directly below you, by your feet. Since you know Yeosang tends to go to the bathroom last minute, it meant that he was going to have to sit at the available spot if he wanted to comfortably watch the movie.

Just as you expected, he walked back and froze for a second when he realized where he would be sitting.

"Yeosang, come on, we're gonna start now," Hongjoong called out from his position at the edge of the sofa.

Knowing he can't do or say anything, Yeosang gave up and went to take a seat by your feet. You smirked inconspicuously as you leaned against Seonghwa who was at your right. You nuzzled into him as your legs reached over to Wooyoung's lap on your left.

In the first ten minutes of the movie, you let Yeosang relax, not letting any parts of your body touch his. This seemed to be effective because his eyes were focused on the screen and his shoulders seemed very much relaxed.

But when he seemed to disregard your existence, you let your knee and fingers brush against the back of his neck. As your skin made contact with his, he visibly stiffened. Knowing him, his eyes were most likely bulged out and his grip on the blanket he and San shared tightened to the point that his knuckles turned white.

You smirked at yourself at his reaction, knowing that teasing him was going to be fun and that he deserved it.

The subtlety of your touch seemed to awaken something in Yeosang. Maybe it was his triggered frustration or it was just simply the fact that you hadn't touched him in the longest time.

When your eyes peeked down at him, it was evident that his mind was thinking a hundred thousand thoughts a minute. With his chest rising and deflating with each breath dramatically, you know it's time to take it up a notch and to test your hypothesis.

Sexually frustrated Yeosang + subtle teasing = boi-oi-oi-oi-oi-oing.

"Oops, almost forgot my popcorn," you muttered lowly but loud enough for Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung to hear. Once Seonghwa and Wooyoung let their grip on you off, you proceeded to swing your right light over Yeosang and stepped diagonally. With the newfound balance, you leaned your body forward to pretend to reach for the popcorn bowl.

With this position, Yeosang was in direct eyeliner with your clothed core. The shorts you wore were not helping either. It was the pair you wore were the ones Wooyoung bought for you; very tight and short, the black, stretchy material both accentuated and covered only half of your ass.

To make things worse, you pretended to lose your balance and fell directly on Yeosang's lap with a high, squeaky yelp, albeit very fake. The close proximity between you two enabled you to hear the choked gasp that came out of Yeosang. Not only that, but you felt something hard pressing against your ass.

Either Yeosang hid the remote in his pants or your plan worked well.

You turned your face to look at Yeosang with a faux innocent, apologetic face, "Oops, sorry Sangie," you apologized to him, batting your eyelashes at him.

It seemed that Seonghwa and San had caught onto your plan. They were snickering at the scene unveiling before them.

Without saying anything else, you stood up. To make things worse, with your ass directly in front of Yeosang, you 'fixed' your shorts; pulling it up and exposing more of your ass.

"I'll be back," you told the room, to no one specific, before walking towards the kitchen.

You pretended to look around in there, trying to find something when suddenly a set of footsteps followed. Before you could even turn to look at who came, you had been swung and pushed until your back hit the fridge's door.

The sight of Yeosang's flustered face combined with his glare greeted you. You tried your best to not look so smug. On the contrary, you pretended to be confused.

With hands pinned at the sides, you knew you couldn't do much. You tilted your head at him and blinked innocently, "something wrong, Sangie?"

Hearing the faux innocence dripping from your voice only made Yeosang growl, slightly ticked that you dared play him like a fiddle.

"Something wrong? Are you seriously that ignorant or are you just pretending to be dumb? I don't even know which one is worse but I'm fucking sick of you flaunting your ass like a damn peacock trying to mate," he rambled on.

Your expression changed as a smirk broke on your face, "didn't know you're one to give in so easily, Sangie? You think with your dick now?" you poked fun at him.

Yeosang's left eye visibly twitched at your words. One of his hands let go of one of yours to grab at the back of your hair, tugging it back rather harshly, eliciting a moan out of you, "are you comparing me with one of the cheap boy toys that you played with when you weren't here? Didn't know your standards were lowered to that extent," he smirked, trying to push you the same way you did him.

A gasp and a low groan left Yeosang when you cupped his dick with your free hand over his pyjama pants, giving it a bit more pressure to feel how hard he was.

"No matter how much you call them 'cheap boy toys', they have bigger balls than you, Sangie. How long did you plan on being all pissy with me, hmm? Did it hurt your pride that I had to be the one who initiated direct contact with you?" you snarled at him.

You could see his eyes burn in anger with a tinge of shame. You knew you had struck a nerve in him.

All of a sudden, Yeosang pulled you off the fridge, turned you around and pushed you down by the shoulder to the point that your cheek was pressed onto the cold countertop.

Excitement filled you as you realized where this was going. Your formula was spot on, your H1 was accepted and H0 was rejected.

When you realized that Yeosang was not doing anything, you took matters into your own hands. You pressed your scantily clad core directly against his boner.

"Not gonna do anything, Sangie? Do I have to get one of the boys to show you how to use a dick properly? Or should I call one of Haknyeon's friends to show you? There's this one, Hyunjae I think was his name, he-"

You couldn't complete the sentence as Yeosang had slapped your ass so hard, you were sure he had left a purple handprint there.

As you were about to protest, Yeosang had somehow taken a clean rag and wrap it around your mouth as a makeshift gag. He leaned forward so that his chest was pressed onto your back.

"Be a good girl and keep your big mouth shut, yeah?" he ordered. His hand skimmed your waist down to your legs and it slowly caressed the back of your thighs, leaving goosebumps at their wake.

When he realized you didn't give him any response, his hands smacked the sides of your legs harshly, making you jolt up in surprise.

"Too dumb to answer?" he growled. Hearing the anger in his voice made you whimper out in fear and submission.

Yeosang smiled and pecked the back of your neck after you replied to him, your submission made him feel soft for a split second.

It wasn't until he pulled your shorts and panties carelessly along with his own pyjama pants and underwear that your brain finally registered that you're about to have angry sex with Yeosang. From how he had been treating you so far, you're at least 70% sure that there will be bruises all over you tomorrow.

Without hesitation, Yeosang shoved his dick deep into you, hips pressing against your ass as his hands found anchor on your waist. His grip was tight, vice even, it almost seemed possessive.

He set a harsh and quick pace from the beginning, not caring that your hips were smacking the counter nor the fact that literally anyone could enter the kitchen area.

Yeosang isn't one to talk much during sex, he tends to focus on the action more than anything else.

The feeling of him continuously entering you at such pace and vigour were intoxicating. Maybe it was all the pent up frustration and anger, but you swore your eyes rolled back even further each time his hips smacked yours harshly. You definitely won't be able to sit on your ass after this.

"Shit, I guess you were telling the truth when you said you weren't playing with your cousin's friends," he groaned out mid-thrust.

Yeosang suddenly pulled out, making you whine in protest.

If it weren't for the extreme sexual tension and both of your compromising predicament, Yeosang would've cooed at how adorable you sounded.

But that wasn't his priority at the moment.

Wordlessly, Yeosang pulled you off the counter to move you to the wooden dining table. He pushed you to lie on the table as he propped a leg up to his waist.

With this new position, you could see the defined lines of his chest peeking from his pyjama when he anchored himself above you. You thanked the workout regime he had been following internally because the sight of his muscles made your pussy throb.

Yeosang immediately went back to thrusting with an animalistic pace into you, pouring every bit of emotion he had into action. You could feel it. The way he was so close to you but still maintaining a certain distance, you knew that he was hesitating. The way he was avoiding your eyes and focus on where you both were connected, yearning for intimacy but scared to initiate it. But you also know that he wanted you beyond anything else and that he was sorry. He wasn't one to be good with words but luckily you know him well enough to understand him.

As he focused on pleasuring you both, you took the chance to prop yourself up slightly and pull the rag gag off your mouth and threw it to the side.

Your hand slapped his face, stunning him for a second. As his movements halted and eyes finally meeting yours, your grabbed his face and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

He froze momentarily, not knowing what to do. But when you pulled out to speak to him, you could see that his stubbornness began to chip away and crumble.

"You don't have to feel bad about what happened, I forgave you and it's about time you forgive yourself for being a jerk to me. And I'm sorry for leaving you to take care of everyone like that, Sangie. But can we please move past all that and go back to normal?"

His once vice grip on you loosened.

At first, you thought he was going to let you go and run away.

But he suddenly pulled you up and flush against him. He hugged you tightly, burying his face on your shoulder.

"I should've been the one to apologize first. I'm sorry, I love you so much," he said lowly against your skin. You knew that it was hard for him to be so vulnerable which was why you know him saying all that meant that he was being beyond sincere.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as his wrapped around your waist.

Soon his thrusts continued.

The initial roughness and anger were replaced with longing and desperation.

Not long after, you felt that you were close to the edge. Your leg that was hoisted up on Yeosang's waist tightened and Yeosang immediately realized what it meant.

His hands slipped under your shirt to play with your chest. His fingers tweaking and pinching your nipples, adding to the pleasure that he gave. The intense arousal shot to your pussy and you clenched hard as you came.

Head thrown back, exposing your neck to him, Yeosang took the opportunity to mark you up as he liked.

The feeling of his fingers on your nipples, his mouth on your skin, and his dick still moving inside you prolonged your orgasm more than you liked. The intensity made you whine as overstimulation took over.

Luckily, Yeosang soon followed suit and released his load inside you. His hips stuttered and his teeth bit down onto your shirt-covered shoulder. You yelped at the sudden pain but the pain turned to pleasure, making your thighs shook and pussy once again clamping around Yeosang.

Yeosang let out a guttural groan that was muffled by your shoulder at the feeling, not denying how good it felt.

You both stayed there, trying to catch your breath. It was then that you registered the aftermath of your intimate activity with Yeosang. Your pants and panties had somehow stuck onto one of the drawer handles of where you were pinned down, the rag that was used as a gag had somehow made its way to the edge of the room, and Yeosang was still fully dressed.

When your eyes met his again, you see fondness and love in them, He was smiling down at you, fingers trailing down to intertwine with yours.

"What would it take me to get your full forgiveness?" he asked, head tilting to the side. His bangs moved to reveal the birthmark that he had told you a while ago he was insecure about. You leaned forward and pecked the adorable mark, making him chuckle.

"Just don't pull yourself or push me away again when things are hard, okay? The last thing I want is to almost lose you again," you told him.

He brought one of your intertwined hands to his lips and gave it a soft kiss, "there is no way on earth that you'd be able to lose me. I was actually thinking the other way around," he admitted shyly.

You bit back a giggle for his sake and opted to kiss him fully on his lips. "You would never lose me, Sangie, I belong with you, all of you," you assured him.

As he pulled himself out of you and began to clean himself up, he was reminded that the others were a room apart.

Yeosang visibly swallowed, suddenly turning nervous.

"D-do you think the others-"

"Seonghwa and San were well aware that we were having sex here, pretty sure the others heard everything as well," you said, cutting him off.

"Yeah we did! You both better clean and disinfect the heck out of the kitchen area," Seonghwa yelled out from the living room.

Hearing that, Yeosang blushed madly and moved to bury his face into your shoulder in embarrassment.

You couldn't help but laugh at him. But you wrapped your arms around him and stroked his back comfortingly.

At least you got the old Yeosang back.

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twilghtkoo · 3 years

Text

bf!haechan tiktok series

telling your bf you don’t like his new hair

pairings: bf!haechan x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: small grammatical errors

note: inspired by mullet haechan iykyk i feel like u all should fjsgvs

you were waiting for hyuck in his room at the boys dorms. haechan left early this morning because he had to dye his hair for the comeback, and that process takes awhile so here you were under his covers with his laptop, watching a new episode of a drama.

after you had told yourself ‘one more episode y/n, just one’, it turned out to be three more. you looked outside and the sun was setting now. you grabbed your phone that was beside you on the nightstand.

7:42pm

haechan should be back any minute no-

“honey! i’m home!” speaking of the devil.

you close his laptop and sit up that way your back is leaning against the headboard. hyuck barges in the room, his head covered with a bucket hat, a signature fashion piece for idols.

“are you ready for the lee haechan, most handsome and sexy member and boyfriend,” he winks at you. “new look?” he announces as if he was on his radio show. you giggle, sitting up and crossing your legs.

you cheese, “show me already!”

he grins, his hands going up to grab the end of his hat. teasingly, pulling it up and down. you grab his only pillow on the bed and toss it right at him.

“show me, you brat!”

“alright alright, so impatient.”

he takes off his bucket hat, tossing it beside him on the floor of his side of the room. the back of his hair was longer now, reaching almost to the end of his neck. a mullet. you were pretty sure it was extensions, but still, mullet haechan looked damn good. the tips were platinum blonde, his actual hair dyed a darker shade of brown. he really looked good.

you hum softly, “do you like it?”

“i do actually, it’s different but good different. but do you like it?”

you’re silent for a second. “i mean, i just feel like the mullet really isn’t it..” your face twists with emotions, your shoulders reaching your ears.

his shoulders drop and you swear you can see his ears drop like a puppy. “you always said i would look good with a mullet though.” he points out.

“well- well yeah, i did. but now that i see it in...person- i don’t know.” you stammered.

he nods, turning around to grab his hat off the floor before putting it back on without a word.

“bubs where you going?” you ask, climbing off his bed.

“gonna go hang out with mark-hyung because mark complimented my hair and he said and i quote ‘oh haechan-ah you look cute!’” he quotes mark, even trying to mimick his voice. “because my girlfriend who always told me i would look good with a mullet is now telling me i look ugly!”

you gasp, “hyuck i did not! now you’re being dramatic!” you stifle a laugh, you reach for his hand.

“you basically said that!”

“did not!”

“did too!”

“hyuck, i was kidding!” i swear you’re dating a drama queen.

even with you holding his hand, he walks away with you behind him towards the living room.

“mark doesn’t love you like i love you though,” you huh him from behind. “bubs, i was for real kidding. you really do look damn hot with a mullet and i wish it was real and that you grew your hair out like that.” you genuinely tell him, as soon as you hugged him you felt his body soften.

“i am damn hot aren’t i?”

you try and pull away from him, but he grabs your hands preventing you from unwrapping your arms.

“you just had to ruin the moment.”

“admit that i’m hot.” he pushes.

you roll your eyes, “you’re head is gonna get big.”

he giggles, he turns his body that way he’s facing you. your chin resting on his chest as you look up at him. you reach your hands up to touch his hair.

“you really had me hurt for a second though, not gonna lie, your opinion matters the most to me.” he confesses before leaning down and placing his lips on your nose.

“don’t you ever worry your pretty little choco ball mullet head.” you coo, patting his head.

“you know i hate when you call me a choco ball, it’s like the equivalent to a rabbit pellet.” he deadpans, but he will never admit that when you call him that his stomach does flips and he feels all fuzzy inside.

he will never let you know that.

#haechan #haechan fluff #haechan imagines #lee donghyuck #nct dream #haechan drabbles #haechan x reader #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct donghyuck #nct masterlist #haechan masterlist #nct hyuck #haechan scenarios #donghyuck fic #donghyuck fluff

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witch-and-a-half · 4 years

Text

pretty

i’d originally wanted to do this idea with Cedric, but i’m honestly so glad i tried it with Fred instead. and it was fun to come up with a makeup look for Fred :)

notes: reader x fred, fluff, kissing!, probably a gryffindor but not really important, unrequited love <3

words: 1.5k

- - -

The Gryffindor Common Room was surprisingly empty for a Friday afternoon. [y/n] sat on one of the couches flipping through a Muggle magazine her mother had sent her that morning. She barely looked up from the page when she heard someone come in.

“Hi Freddie.” she said cheerfully, eyes still on the glossy photos of celebrity makeup looks.

Fred didn’t respond, but instead dropped himself onto the ground a few feet in front of [y/n]’s couch. He let out a dramatic sigh and laid flat on the rug with his gangly limbs sprawled out around him.

[y/n] grinned and dropped her magazine onto her lap, “What’s the matter?”

“I was supposed to hang out with Lee and George tonight… but they’ve both got dates.” Fred stuck his tongue out in disgust.

[y/n] raised her eyebrow. “Oooh, with who?”

Fred looked at her, feigning shock, “I can’t believe you’re more interested in a bit of silly gossip than my feelings. My evening plans are ruined, so now you have to hang out with me.”

Now it was [y/n]’s turn to pretend to be hurt. “Oh, I see. I’m the backup friend.”

Fred groaned again and moved to join [y/n] on the couch. “You know that’s not what I meant.” His arms draped lazily across the back of the couch so his forearm rested behind [y/n]’s head.

“Let’s do something fun.” Fred shifted his arm to nudge [y/n]’s head rather aggressively.

“I know!” [y/n] said as a mischievous grin spread across her face. Fred’s eyes narrowed. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen that look in her eye, it was the same look she would get when he and George convinced her to help out with their latest prank. But he’d never had that look directed at him.

“I can do your makeup!”

Fred let out yet another defeated groan and leaned his head back, “[y/n]... I don’t think-”

“Pretty please?”

He looked over at her for a moment. Her lower lip pouted out and her brows pulled inwards. Fred couldn’t help but smile at her exaggerated puppy dog eyes. How could he say no to her now?

“Please?” she said again, softer, “I promise I won’t go overboard and no one will know.”

Fred sighed in resignation. “Okay, fine. Pinky promise you won’t tell?”

[y/n] wrapped her little finger around Fred’s outstretched pinky and gave it a little shake. Her face broke into a giddy grin. Her hands clasped together and she stood up, bouncing a bit on her toes as she did so. “I’ll be right back!”

“You’re gonna look so pretty!” [y/n] chirped as she bounded up the stairs to get her makeup kit. Fred slumped back into the couch with his palm on his forehead. His face grew warm as he thought of how excited [y/n] looked and how secretly excited he was to spend the evening with her.

~ ~ ~

“Hold still!” [y/n] reprimanded.

She had finished brushing his eyebrows out and putting a smidge of concealer under his eyes and along his nose-bridge. Now she was sweeping a bit of forest green eyeshadow along his lash-line.

Fred’s eyelids fluttered a bit each time she brought the brush to his skin. “Please don’t do too much…” he murmured carefully so his face stayed as still as possible. [y/n] giggled as she finished putting the shadow on his second eye. “It’s just the tiniest bit of green to bring out your red hair. You can open your eyes now.”

[y/n] stayed close to his face, admiring her work so far. Fred watched her eyes examine his face, and struggled to suppress a small smile. His heart soared seeing how focused she was.

“Okay, this part is important. Close your eyes again.” [y/n] grabbed her eyeliner pen and turned back to Fred’s face. She hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the right angle.

Fred opened one eye to see why she hadn’t started poking at him again. “What is it?”

“I’ve just never done eyeliner on another person.” she said, “I’m used to doing it straight on but it’s hard to do from the side of your chair.”

As [y/n] leaned across his knees to see how the pen angled from each side, Fred lightly grabbed her hips and guided her onto his lap. It wasn’t a forceful gesture, but his boldness surprised both of them. [y/n] felt her heartbeat quicken as she leaned towards his face with the eyeliner pen. His eyes closed and he asked, “Is that better?” She hummed an “Mhm” in response and silently prayed he couldn’t hear the tremble in her voice.

She drew a thin line along his long lashes, and then added the daintiest little wing to the outer corners. [y/n] pulled back and Fred’s eyes opened slowly. One of his hands rested gently on [y/n]’s knee, ensuring her thighs stayed perpendicular atop his own.

“I think that’s the best eyeliner I’ve ever done.” she said through a soft laugh. The surprise in her voice was genuine. [y/n] was impressed she’d managed to make any sort of straight line with Fred’s touch distracting her.

His hand fell from [y/n]’s knee as she stood to grab a rosy lipstick. When she came back to Fred, she found herself straddling him. She didn’t think to do it… it just happened. Her knees rested on either side of his thighs on the chair. [y/n]’s hips stayed close to his knees, so their torsos were far apart, but she was straddling him nonetheless. Fred’s hand came to her outer thigh to steady her as she leaned in to put on the lipstick. Her forefinger curved beneath his chin, holding his face steady as she dragged the lipstick along the inner part of his lips. Then, she dabbed her finger cautiously on his lip so the color was darkest on his inner lip and lighter on the outer edge.

[y/n] put the lipstick down to admire her work, cradling Fred’s face to see from different angles. Both of them were hyper-aware of how close they were, how [y/n]’s touches lingered on Fred’s jaw, and the way his hand remained firmly just below her hip.

“You look very pretty.” [y/n] breathed nervously.

Fred’s lips pulled into a smile and he murmured, “You look very pretty, too.”

Now both of his hands were on her hips and pulling her closer to him. [y/n] wrapped her arms around his neck and their mouths collided. Their lips moved together slowly and cautiously at first. But as they both relaxed and let the moment sink in, their movements became hungrier.

Fred had longed for the feeling of [y/n]’s lips on his for almost a year now, ever since she eavesdropped on one of Fred and George’s schemes and suggested they add glitter to an explosion for added effect.

[y/n] parted her lips slightly, allowing Fred’s tongue to playfully enter her mouth. She recalled the way she often caught him looking at her with an undeniable glint in his eyes. Sometimes it was in the castle corridor or midconversation. At first she didn’t understand it, but then the Hufflepuff beside her in class noticed it too and whispered, “Wow. Do you know what I would give to have a cute boy look at me like that?”

They pulled away from the kiss breathlessly. Fred’s hands slowly moved along the curves of her body and she dragged her fingers along his scalp. For a moment, they just looked into each other's eyes and basked in the exhilaration of it all. Then, [y/n] heard the door to the Common Room open and quickly moved to the chair beside Fred’s. He gave her one last cheeky grin before their time alone ended.

“Oi! What have you lot-” George greeted before stopping in his tracks and doubling over with laughter. “What did you let her do?” Lee exclaimed from beside him.

Fred turned crimson. [y/n] handed him a makeup wipe, but he turned it down. “I’ve been told I look quite pretty.” He folded his arms across his chest defiantly before standing to look at himself in the mirror above the fireplace.

“What do you think?” [y/n] asked as Fred came back to his seat.

Fred nodded, “I quite like it. You’ve done a good job.”

George scrunched up his nose a bit, thinking about how he would look the same as his twin with makeup, “Reckon it’s not an everyday look though?”

Both Fred and [y/n] chuckled before Lee spoke.

“Gee George, I don’t know if I could ever fancy a girl so much that I would let her put eyeliner on me.”

[y/n] turned to Fred, pretending to be shocked, “You fancy me?”

He just rolled his eyes in response.

”Hey [y/n],” George called as he followed Lee up the stairs to their room, “you’ve got some of Freddie’s lipstick on your face.”

#fred weasley #weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #fanfic #george weasley #harry potter oneshot #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fluff #fluff #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley imagine #i wrote this

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connordavidscamera · 3 years

Text

A Jealous Household | Connor Brashier

A/n: listen, I know it says y/n, but we all know it’s written about me, right? Okay, just wanna put that out there lol

Summary: Shawn and Brian want to have a party, but this party causes a few problems for Connor and y/n

Warnings: angst, underage drinking (for US standards, at least), pining

Word count: 7.5k, she’s a long one

***

“You want to have a party? When?” Y/n asks, closing her book and setting it in her lap.

“This weekend,” Shawn nods. “And it won’t be a big thing, I promise. Maybe fifteen, twenty people.”

“Thirty or forty, max,” Brian interjects.

I can’t help but laugh at that, neither can she as she says. “You know we can’t even fit thirty or forty people in the condo, right?”

“I know that, but that’s why we’ll have some of them in the backyard too.”

“So what’s the party even for?” She asks, leaning into my side. On instinct, I wrap my arm around her shoulders.

They both shrug, “A house warming party? Does that still count if we’ve lived here for almost two months?” Shawn questions.

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t see why we couldn’t have one. We just have to be considerate of our neighbors. And nobody’s allowed in my room. If there’s alcohol, I’m not chancing anyone going into my room for a sloppy fuck.”

Shawn laughs, “So your sloppy fuck is gonna be in Connor’s room then?”

I roll my eyes at the comment. Shawn and Brian love to tease me about my crush on y/n. They have since the beginning. Shawn’s taunts are light hearted, but they’re plentiful now that we all live together. Brian’s at times feel almost malicious. But Brian also isn’t aware that I still have a crush on her, he thinks the feeling has passed. It definitely hasn’t. If anything, being in such tight quarters with her at all times has made me like her even more. Watching her move so effortlessly around our home - seeing her do her nightly routine, watching her polish her nails every Sunday like clockwork. I have undeniably fallen even deeper in love with her in just these few short weeks we’ve lived together and it’s killing me.

It’s killing me because we still haven’t talked about what she said to me a couple weeks ago when we were falling asleep together. I don’t even know if she remembers saying what she did. And I could have misinterpreted her words, I mean, she was falling asleep, her words were slurring. I could have misunderstood. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself every time the memory pops into my head. Which is about six times a day for the past three weeks.

Y/n gasps and tosses her book at him, "Asshole!"

He laughs, picking the book up off the floor from where it ricocheted off his chest. "I'm kidding. Kidding. But it's cool?"

She shrugs, "Yeah, whatever. Go nuts."

"Yes!" Shawn pumps his fist in the air before high fiving Brian.

"We gotta get alcohol."

"Ah, wait. Before you two go broke buying drinks for the party, remember that we have bills to pay. So save us all a headache and make it BYOB."

Brian snaps and points at her with a click of his tongue. "This is why we keep you around."

She laughs, "Oh is that why?"

"Indeed," he nods.

"Okay, well can I have my book back, please?"

"Yeah, here," Shawn leans over the coffee table to hand it to her before disappearing to his room, Brian heading to the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" I ask, not looking up from my phone. I can sense that the wheels are turning in her head and she sighs dramatically.

"I don't remember which page I was on."

I force myself not to laugh. "243."

“Hmm?” She flips to that page and looks up at my side profile. “How’d you know that?”

I shrug, “I always memorize the page you’re on before you close the book, just in case.”

She smiles sheepishly and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “You’re cute,” she whispers before turning her attention back to the page in front of her and resting her head in the crook of my neck.

I squeeze her shoulder hoping she doesn’t look up and notice the growing blush on my cheeks, “You’re cuter.”

---

“Do you have any idea who’s coming to this?” Y/n asks as we move a cooler out to the backyard.

I shake my head, “Not really. I think Matt and his girlfriend, honestly, I have no idea. It’s Shawn, so there’s bound to be more people than we’re anticipating.”

“Lots of girls then.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask, setting the cooler down, providing her with my undivided attention (which she has always had).

“He’s making a name for himself out here. Playing a few more gigs than at home. I noticed at the last one, he’s got a few groupies.”

I chuckle, “Oh really?”

She nods, “There were like five girls there just holding onto his every word. It was actually pretty cool to watch. But he got nervous. Started fidgeting with his necklace, so I had to get him out of there, which of course resulted in death glares from his adoring fans.”

“What? What do you mean? Death glares towards you?”

Y/n laughs, fixing the collar of her shirt that’s falling off her shoulder. “Yeah. I think they thought there was more there than there is,” she shrugs, “And if looks could kill, I would be dead five times over.”

I shake my head, I don’t like that thought, and I say as much. “I don’t like that thought.”

“What? Shawn having groupies?”

“No, girls staring daggers at you because you’re friends with him.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

I know it’s not, but the thought of someone not liking her is appalling to me. “I still don’t like it.”

“Is it because if something happened to me you’d be left to live alone with Shawn and Brian? Because that would make me sad too.”

I force a laugh, “That, and I’d be bored without you.”

She nods understandingly, “I get it. I am the light of your life,” she teases.

You are, I think to myself. “Yeah, yeah,” I say instead, stepping forward, wrapping my arm around her waist. “Let’s get inside, it’s hot as hell out here.”

Shawn and Brian are sitting on the floor in front of the TV, trying to get the wifi hooked up to it. We barely got wifi installed at the beginning of the week, but we’ve all been so busy, we haven’t had the chance to get everything hooked up to it.

“It’s not working!” Brian complains, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Well try again! That’s what the router says.” Shawn counters back.

“Let me see that,” Brian snatches the router out of his hands. “Dumbass! You’re reading me the product number! Not the fucking password!”

Y/n and I hide our faces to keep from bursting into a fit of laughter, but we both break when Shawn pouts when Brian puts the router back in his hands after successfully connecting the TV.

“Oh, what’s with the pouty face, rockstar?” y/n asks.

“Brian’s a dick,” he mutters, which causes Brian to punch his shoulder.

“Ow!” Shawn exclaims, reaching to hold his arm. “That hurt!”

“It was supposed to. Want me to do it again?”

“Craigen,” y/n shakes her head and before I can protest, she’s out of my grasp and I suddenly feel lonely without her body next to mine. “No more fighting.”

“Just one time in the face,” he tries to reason. “Just once. Come on, it’s a long time coming. I’ve wanted to punch him in the face since we were kids.”

“No,” she squats down behind Shawn, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, leaning her head against his. I watch Shawn fall into her touch and I’m envious of him. Even though she holds onto me in the exact same way, almost daily, she isn’t right now and it makes me long for it. Especially when I watch her start to massage his scalp and he hums because her head scratches feel like you’re in heaven. “You can’t punch him in the face. That’s the money maker,” she squishes his cheeks with her free hand and speaks in a mock baby voice, “And if he’s got a black eye how will he charm girls with his pretty face tonight?”

Shawn laughs and pushes her hand away, but he reaches back and pats her calf. “Sit down,” he says and she obliges, her legs spreading and bracketing Shawn’s. He falls back into her and takes her hand that was just squeezing him and brings it to his lips to kiss her knuckles before bringing it to his hair as well. “More head scratches.”

She rolls her eyes, but continues anyway. “So fucking needy.”

He hums, “Could fall asleep like this.”

She hums too and looks up at me with a smile that melts my heart, “Connor does all the time.”

I nod, “I do. Feels good. Your hands are magic.”

“How magic? Like you could get me off in three seconds?”

“Brian!” I growl. Yep, we can always count on him to ruin the mood.

But y/n’s laughing, “I’m sure I could, I mean, if you ask your first girlfriend, you only last five so I don’t think it’ll be difficult,” she answers.

Shawn’s hysterical in y/n’s arms, as am I as I fall to the floor, clutching my stomach. But Brian? Brian is livid.

“I can’t believe she told you that! She said she wouldn’t tell anyone!”

This only makes Shawn and I laugh harder. “Wait, did that actually happen?” I ask between fits. “Craigen, come on,” I groan when he’s silent. “Five seconds?”

“It was our first time!”

“And last, apparently,” y/n comments.

“Shut up!” he groans. “Fuck, I can’t stand you.”

She nods, “I know.”

“No, but seriously, when did she tell you that?”

Y/n breaks out into a wide grin. “She didn’t. But you just did. Thanks for that.”

He’s speechless. Absolutely speechless. And his face is so red; I don’t know if it’s in anger or embarrassment, but either way, Shawn pipes up. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, my first time I only lasted like twenty seconds.”

“I lasted fifteen,” I confirm, but I immediately regret it when y/n’s face morphs into one of confusion.

Oh, oh fuck. I never told her that I-

“Wait, you’ve had sex?”

“You didn’t know?” Shawn questions, looking back at her.

She shakes her head, “I guess not.”

I sigh and scratch the back of my head, “Yeah. It was… during that time where we weren’t really talking,” I mumble.

She nods slowly, scoffing, and I can’t quite pin her emotion, but it’s definitely a cross between anger and… is that jealousy? “Ah, good ol’ McKenzie,” she mutters under her breath. She exhales deeply out her nose and focuses her attention back to playing with Shawn’s hair.

“I would have told-”

“We weren’t talking. I know,” she cuts me off. “And it’s none of my business. It wasn’t then, and it’s not now either.”

“Oh, right. Okay,” I nod once. “New subject.”

---

We’re tiptoeing around each other the rest of the day. Or more so, I’m tiptoeing around her. She somehow is coming off as completely unbothered, but at the same time completely bothered. I don’t know what to make of this situation. I don’t know if I should apologize for not telling her, or if she even wants me to apologize. I don’t know and it’s killing me not knowing what I can do to make this better for us tonight.

I’m helping Brian pour more ice into the cooler we have in the kitchen when she walks out of her room. “Where’s Shawn?” she asks.

I look up at her and my heart stops for a moment. She’s wearing red, my heart never knows what to do when she wears that color. Does it stop? Does it speed up? Yes.

“He went to his car to get the beer we got this afternoon,” Brian answers, closing the lid.

SHe nods, “I’ll go help him.”

I watch as she leaves, not taking a full breath until the door shuts behind her.

“She still mad at you?”

I shake my head, “I don’t know. I don’t even know if she is mad at me.”

“Well, it’s y/n. You kept something from her for almost three years. I’m willing to bet she’s a little upset.”

I sigh, “Yeah, I know. But I mean, how was I supposed to tell her. She would barely even look at me during that time, so -”

“Yeah, because McKenzie was a bitch to her. How was she supposed to look at you when she was practically threatened or called out or god know what when you weren’t listening. I’d hate to know what she actually said when none of us were there to listen.”

I exhale deeply. I know my ex was the worst to her - she’s the entire reason y/n and I weren’t talking. She told me not to hang out with her as much, so I didn’t (also because I was trying to prove to Brian that I didn’t have feelings for y/n anymore. That was a mistake.) “So, I should apologize.”

Brian shrugs, “We all know you’re gonna apologize. You can’t stand it when she’s mad at you. Honestly, we can’t either. We have no idea what to do when you two aren’t talking. And since we all live together now, it’ll be even more awkward for you two to not talk.”

I nod, “Yeah. I know. I’ll apologize later. You should go get ready. I can finish up out here.”

Brian claps my shoulder, “Thanks, man. I’ll be quick.” He disappears at the same time Shawn and y/n walk in the front door with the drinks. I make my way over to them.

“Here, let me get that for you,” I tell her, reaching to take the cases from her hands.

“Oh, it’s okay. I got it. You want these inside or out, rockstar?”

“In the fridge, in the back. Gotta keep the good stuff for us.” Shawn hands me a pottle of vodka, “Put this in the freezer? I got it for y/n, I’m gonna make her a new drink.”

“You’re gonna risk giving her alcohol poisoning?” I question, raising one eyebrow at him.

He rolls his eyes, “I’ve gotten better at making drinks, dickhead.”

I laugh and hold my hands up in surrender, “Alright, sure.”

“I’m gonna put these in my room for now, and then I’m gonna get ready.”

“Brian’s in the shower, you can use my bathroom,” I say as y/n moves past us to the kitchen.

“Good looking out, thanks.”

And now it’s just me and her. It’s like any normal day. So why is my heart beating so quickly?

I watch her move some things around in the fridge to make room for the drinks, and I can’t help but smile. “You look pretty tonight,” I tell her, leaning against the counter.

She looks over at me and smiles softly, “Thanks.”

I clear my throat, “Hey, y/n?”

“Hmm?” she turns her attention back to her task at hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asks, closing the fridge.

“For not telling you that I slept with her.”

“Oh,” she nods. “It’s fine. It really is not any of my business who you have and haven’t slept with.”

“Well maybe not, but you are my best friend, and we tell each other everything. I know if we were on better terms when you were dating Noah, you would have told me that you-”

“I didn’t tell you because we didn’t sleep together.”

“What?” I stare at her with wide eyes.

“Noah and I didn’t sleep together.”

“But I thought-”

“You assumed. But no, it didn’t happen. I wasn’t ready. I mean, I barely let him kiss me, so how the hell was I gonna sleep with him?”

I nod because I don’t know what else to do or even say. She’s right, I just assumed that they had sex because he always had his hands all over her. I almost scoff at the thought. I hated watching him hold her in the hallway, his hands in her back pockets as he pulled her closer to him. Seeing them together everyday made my heart clench every time because it should have been me. I wonder if that’s how she felt when I had a girlfriend.

“Look, it doesn’t matter, okay? So, let’s just drop it. It’s not like I’m mad you had sex, I was just surprised to find out this way, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I get it. And I would have told you sooner, but there really was never a time, you know? And it was just with her a couple times, nothing since.”

“Connor, you really don’t need to explain it to me. Actually, if we could just stop talking about her all together, that’d be great.”

“No, yeah. Of course. It’s dropped.”

She nods, “Okay, good. So, you should go get dressed.”

“What do you mean? I’m wearing this,” I gesture to my torn t-shirt and my sweatpants with paint stains up and down the legs from when we painted the living room a few weeks ago. I’m totally joking, but I want to see her reaction anyway.

She looks me up and down and scoffs, “Yeah, no. Go change. You’re not wearing that.”

I pout dramatically, “Why not?”

“One, those pants are a mess. Two, you know you run hot when you drink, so why would you wear sweatpants? And three, that shirt is literally falling apart. You are not wearing that, go change.”

I can’t fight the smile that tugs at my lips because just like that we’re back to normal. “Okay, I’m going. Do you have something you’d like for me to wear?”

“Yes, your black pants with the white tank top and your peachy cream shirt. The one you wore for our graduation party.”

I nod, “Yes, ma’am. You wanna do my hair?”

“Come find me when you’re done, and I’ll see what I can do.”

---

I’m talking to my friend Will out in the backyard as the party becomes bigger than anticipated. Yeah, definitely called that situation.

“Bro, I wish I would have saved up more so I could have gotten a place like you guys did. I emailed my roommate last week to see what he wanted to get for the dorm and he straight up said, ‘I don’t plan to be roommates long, so nothing.’”

I can’t help but laugh, “Hey, we’d take you in over Brian, but he’d throw a bitch fit.”

He laughs too, twisting the cap off his beer. “So what’s it like living with y/n? Everything good?”

“Yeah, everything’s great. She knows how to run a household. She made a chore chart that goes on the fridge. Shawn had to beg her to take it down for the party because he was embarrassed.”

“Sounds like y/n. But that’s not what I meant.”

I take a swig of my beer and shrug, “There’s nothing else to say really. She’s nice to live with.”

“No progression between you two.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right, right. Because you’re not in love with her, right.”

“Will, come on. Not tonight.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. We’re not in a teasing mood tonight.”

Or ever. Will is a great friend of mine, and I would take a bullet for him, but he asks me for y/n updates every time we’re together, and I never have any for him. When I told him we were moving in together, he was stoked, but less so when I told him we were moving with Shawn and Brian too.

He - like Shawn - is an avid supporter of us getting together. Will found out about my so-called crush one night in high school, actually a couple weeks after my breakup with McKenzie. Y/n and I still weren’t talking. I was trying to mend things and she was trying to push me further away. I don’t remember much of the night he found out because I got shit faced drunk, but I somehow admitted to him that I had feelings for her and he’s convinced himself that he knows the biggest secret in the world. He treats it like he holds the key to the universe. If anyone wants us together more than I do, it’s him.

“Just don’t want to risk her hearing anything,” I tell him. “I already made things awkward earlier.”

“What? How?”

I shake my head, “Let it slip that Kenz and I slept together.”

He blanches. “She didn’t know?!”

I shake my head, “No. I never found the right time to tell her. But she keeps saying it isn’t her business, so I don’t know if that means she’s hurt by it or if I’m imagining it because right now it seems like she doesn’t really care. But - I don’t know, I want her to, I guess.”

He smirks, “She cares.”

“I don’t know,” I mutter, looking inside, lifting my bottle up to my lips, but halting when I see her standing near the sliding glass door with - “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What?” Will asks, turning toward the door. “What hap - is that? Wait, is that Noah? What is he doing here?”

My jaw clenches, just like the grip around the bottle in my hand. “Better question, why the hell is he so close to her?”

Will sucks in a breath, “Are they still friends?”

I don’t answer him because I don’t know. I’m 99% sure they aren’t, but that 1% that says yes is simply because I’m watching them right now and she’s hugging him and letting him kiss her cheek before he pulls away. “I didn’t think they were. She hasn’t brought him up since the breakup.”

I don’t take my eyes off them as I start chugging the rest of my beer. It was still pretty full, but at this moment, I need to finish it because I need something stronger.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” I mutter, tossing my bottle in the trashcan near the cooler. I walk inside, but neither of them notice me. I shake my head and walk to Shawn’s room where he hid most of the hard stuff. I find the bottle of tequila that he stashed because he knew if he put it out, it’d go fast. I twist the top off and take, maybe a little more than a shot. I cough into my elbow when I pull the bottle back because wow he got the strong stuff.

Shaking my head, I close the bottle back up and sneak out of Shawn’s room. When I enter the living room, they’re still standing there talking. Or, he’s talking, she’s nodding at something he’s saying. I click my tongue and walk into the kitchen to grab another beer. SHould I be mixing my alcohol? No, I should not. Is that going to stop me? No, it is not.

My girl’s ex-boyfriend is over there talking to her and touching her like they’re best buds and I can’t stand it. I can’t stand him.

I still remember the day she told us that she was going on a date with him.

All four of us are sitting in our usual booth at the diner, everything seems to be going like it always has. Just us four, laughing and making our weekend plans. The difference though is that y/n and I aren’t sitting shoulder to shoulder right now. She’s pushed against the window, and I’m toward about as far left as I can get without it being noticeable, or falling.

“So, we’re aiming for Saturday afternoon, right? Y/n, you’ll ride with me?” Shawn asks.

“Oh,” she sits up straight, “um, could we maybe do it on Sunday instead? I kind of already have plans on Saturday.”

“What?” Brian furrows his brows, “Without us?”

She nods, “Yeah,” she takes in a sharp breath beside me. “I um… I kinda, I have a date.”

At that exact moment, our heads whip in her direction - I’m pretty sure if I turned any faster I would have given myself whiplash.

“A date?” I ask as calmly as I can.

“With who?” Shawn questions.

She shrugs, “You know that guy Noah? I have him in like all of my AP classes? He asked me out after class this morning.”

I don’t think I can clench my jaw any harder. Noah. I hate him. I’ve never personally met him, but I hate him. “Cool,” I mutter, turning my head back to the table to reach for my drink.

“Well?” Shawn prompts. “What are you gonna do? Where is he taking you?”

She clasps her hands in her lap and shrugs again. “I don’t know. He hasn’t told me. Said he wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Ooh, romantic,” Brian teases.

“You hate surprises,” I mumble into my cup.

Y/n clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s just one date. Not a big deal.”

“Okay, sure,” Brian says. “So Sunday then?”

“And you’ll tell us all about it?”

“Sure.”

There are very few times that I wish I was deaf, but that day was one of them. I didn’t sleep that whole night. I couldn’t. And the night of her date? Forget it. I was up all night wondering what was happening. Did he hold her hand? Did he hug her? Did that bastard take her first kiss? The first kiss that was supposed to belong to me?

And right now, as I watch him reach for her elbow again, I decide, fuck it. I don’t care if I look like a jealous asshole, I’m taking my girl away from him. I stride over to them and place my hand on her hip, “Hey, baby. Can you help me find the bottle opener? I can’t remember what drawer you put it in the other day, and I think my eyes are failing me.”

She shakes her head, “Um, yeah. It should be in the drawer closest to the fridge.”

“I checked there, please, come help me look.”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to Noah who is staring daggers at my hand on her hip. I smirk. “Noah, it was good catching up with you. I’ll find you later. I’m gonna help him out.”

He looks back up at her and forces a smile, “Sure. Sounds good. Save me dance?”

Over my dead body. “Come on, baby,” I say, guiding her toward the kitchen.

She steps in front of me, mumbling a couple excuse me’s to the people blocking the kitchen. Then she b-line’s to the drawer closer to the fridge, which I definitely did not check because I wasn’t really looking for the bottle opener. I just needed an excuse to get her away from Noah.

“Here,” she holds it out to me. “Wait, I thought Shawn got twist tops.” She takes the bottle from my hand and laughs, “Bub, it twists off.” She says, taking the cap off the bottle.

“Oh,” I chuckle. I knew it was a twist top, again, I just needed an excuse to get her away. “Whoopsies?”

She puts the bottle opener back in the drawer and leans against the counter. “You having fun?”

I shrug, “I’m alright. So um… Noah’s here.”

Y/n nods slowly, “Yeah, he is.”

“Kinda weird that he showed up after we just talked about him,” I mutter.

“Yeah, I guess. He just tagged along with one of his friends.”

I nod, “Mhm. You two looked pretty cozy.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Just, I mean, I haven’t heard you talk about him since the breakup,” I take a sip of the beer in my hand. “I didn’t realize you two were still so close.”

She tilts her head at me, “We’re not. We were just catching up. He didn’t know that I lived here too.”

“Uh-huh, so you haven’t talked to him recently?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s with the third degree, huh?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I mutter.

“No, Connor. I haven’t talked to him recently. In fact, I haven’t talked to him since the breakup. But what does that matter? Why does it matter who I do and do not talk to?”

“I just think it’s a little strange that he came here tonight.”

“Well, I didn’t invite him, if that’s what you’re insinuating. He came with a friend. He didn’t even know it was our party, or our house. He just showed up.”

“So he crashed it. Classy.”

“What is your deal?” She pushes herself off the counter and stands face to face with me, her forehead creasing as she glares at me. I want to smooth the crease and tell her not to do that because she’ll get a headache, but I refrain.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” she scoffs, “you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend! Newsflash, Connor, you’re not my boyfriend.”

I recoil, because sure I know I’m not, but the words spew from her lips like venom. “I know that.”

“Do you? Because right now it doesn’t seem like you do. Now unless I completely missed the part where you asked me to be your girlfriend, you have no right to be upset over me talking to my ex-boyfriend.”

“He was an ass to you then.”

“How would you know?! We weren’t even talking then.”

“Because you didn’t want to! I was still trying to fix things with us but you were pushing me away.”

“No, I wasn’t pushing you away. I was protecting myself from getting hurt again.”

“But it wasn’t me, that was Kenzie, and -”

She groans in frustration, “Why are we talking about her again? Why? I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

Y/n pinches the bridge of her nose. “Look, you’re my best friend, and I love you. But you have no right to be upset about Noah. You are not my boyfriend -”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because you aren’t! You like to act like you are sometimes, but you’re not.”

“Do you want me to be?!” I exclaim, setting my bottle down.

She scoffs, shaking her head. “Not like this,” she says quietly, pushing past me.

“Y/n!” I call after her, but she ignores me. I, however, can’t ignore the eyes that are on me.

---

“He’s jealous?” Alessia asks, leaning back on her hands. We’re sitting on the grass in the backyard. It’s quieter out here, and far less crowded. “Does he even have a right to be?”

“That’s what I’m saying! He’s my best friend, but sometimes he acts like he’s my boyfriend and I just - I’m over it.”

She sighs, “You’re over him acting like your boyfriend.”

“Yes,” I say.

“Because you want him to actually be your boyfriend.”

“What? No! No,” I shake my head, “that’s not it.”

Les smiles, “Honey, it’s obvious the way you two look at each other. And you can deny it because you’re best friends, you live together. You don’t want to risk the integrity of the friendship that you have. And that is totally reasonable, but you two need to discuss what you are to each other. Because it’s clear that in his mind, you’re a little bit more than just ‘best friends.’ And well, you’ve always wanted to be more, so what’s so wrong with him being that?”

I sigh and pick at the grass beside me, “I don’t know if he feels this way genuinely or if it’s because I’m closer now. We live together, it seems almost easy or convenient for him to develop some tiny crush because of the proximity.”

At this she laughs, “Oh, honey. That is definitely not it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that boy has been in love with you since before I even met you guys. It’s written all over his face and if you took a second to just stop and -”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, guys,” Shawn says, breathlessly, pushing his curls out of his face. “Y/n, Connor’s drunk off his ass, and I need your help”

I sit up, “Okay, How much did he drink?”

“Like, the entire bottle of tequila I had in my room, plus however many beers he had.”

I stand up, swatting at the backs of my legs to get off any dirt, “Is he throwing up?”

“No, he’s just asking for you.”

I nod and look back to Alessia, “We’ll talk later, Les?”

“Mhm, go take care of your boy.”

“Why did he drink so much?” I ask Shawn, following him toward the sliding glass door.

He shrugs, “I asked him. He said you were mad at him.”

I roll my eyes, “Well yeah, he was being an ass. But it still doesn’t make sense.If he drinks every time I get upset with him, he’d be an alcoholic ”

“All I know is that he was asking for you,” Shawn says just as we find Connor sitting outside my bedroom door, nursing another beer bottle.

I shake my head, “God, he knows not to be switching between alcohol.”

“Connor, buddy?” Shawn says, squatting down next to him. “I got her. Why don’t you give me that beer, eh?” He goes to take it from his hands, but Connor’s quick to move it, spilling a bit of it on his shirt in the process.

“No, this is mine. Get your own,” he slurs

I sigh and squat down next to him, too. “I think you’ve had enough, bub. Come on, let me have it.”

He looks at me with heavy eyes and he pouts, dramatically. “Y/n… you’re so pretty.”

“Connor,” I shake my head.

“I love you in red. God, you look so good. Could never get,” he hiccups, “tired of looking at you.”

I blush, looking over at Shawn who’s still sitting with us. “Okay, come on. Let’s get up. We need to get you to bed.”

He nods slowly, “Whatever you want, baby.”

I take the drink out of his hand and set on the floor beside us. “Shawn, help me get him up.”

Shawn nods, “You got it.” He does most of the heavy lifting, but when Connor’s on his feet, he leans into me, hugging my waist, burying his head in my neck.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. So sorry.”

“I know, come on now. We’re going to your room.”

He groans into my skin, but helps me and Shawn take him to his room as best as he can, only stumbling once when we round the corner. We push his bedroom door open and walk further into the room, plopping him down on the bed.

“Thanks, Shawn. I got it from here.”

“You sure?”

I nod, moving to grab his trash can from next to his desk. “Yeah, we’re good. Thanks for coming to get me.”

He nods, “Of course. Come get me if you need anything else.”

Connor groans as Shawn slams the door shut behind him. I sigh and move around the room, turning on his bedside lamp and going to his desk chair where his outfit from earlier is laid out. “Okay, bub, I’m gonna need you to help me out, alright? I need you to get out of your clothes, I’m gonna put you in pajamas, okay?”

He shakes his head, his pout even heavier than usual, eyes struggling to stay open. “Too tired. You do it.”

I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath. Of course he’s gonna be difficult right now. I shake my head, throwing his clothes beside him, “Can you stand up?”

He mumbles something incoherent, but I’m pretty sure it’s somewhere along the lines of “The room is spinning.”

“Fuck, Connor, why did you drink so much?” I grumble, moving to the floor to take his shoes off.

“You’re mad at me,” he whines.

“Yes, I am. You know your limits. What were you gonna do if this didn’t happen at the house, hmm?”

“M’sorry.”

I roll my eyes, “Okay, sit up,” I reach for his hands to help pull him to a sitting position.

He makes an unnecessary amount of groaning sounds as he moves around to accommodate me.

I push his shirt off his shoulders, it’s almost damp, he’s sweating so much. I throw it to the side, I’ll put it in the laundry room when I go get him some pain meds in a little bit. I take hold of the hem of his tank top, “Arms up,” I pat his side and he obliges, looking up at me with a sad smile on his lips. “What’s wrong?” I ask him, tossing his tank top off to the side too.

“I’m sorry I got mad earlier. About Noah.”

I shake my head, “It’s fine. Lay back, lift your hips for me.”

He lays back, but his pout still remains on his face as I lean forward to unbutton his pants.

“What now?” I question softly, pulling down his zipper, “Hips up.”

He’s looking at me with such sad eyes and it’s killing me. “This isn’t how I wanted you to undress me for the first time.”

My breath hitches, “What?”

“Wanna make love to you,” he slurs.

I almost choke on his words, “Connor, you’re drunk,” I shake my head, pulling his pants off him and grabbing his sweats to pull up his legs instead. I decide to forgo the shirt because he’s already sweating a lot, I don't want to make him even hotter. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m gonna go get you some water and pain meds. Stay here.” I move the trash can closer to him, “The trash is right next to you if you feel like you’re gonna get sick.

I pick up his discarded clothes from the floor and walk to the door and out the room before he can say anything else he doesn’t mean. After tossing them in the hamper in the laundry room, I squeeze past the group of people still congregating in the hallway. I slip into my room and grab some of my pain meds from my book bag and quickly slip out again to head to the kitchen which is also crowded. I mumble out a general excuse me, and go to the fridge to grab Connor a bottle of water.

On my way back, I stop and go to his bathroom which is thankfully empty, and grab a hand towel and wet it under the faucet to hopefully cool him down a bit. When I’m back in his room, he’s laying face down on his bed and I stop for a minute, admiring his smooth skin, and the way the muscles in his shoulders tense up when he moves his arm above his head. It’s not fair. No one man should look this good.

I shake my head, focusing back on the task at hand. I close the door behind me gently. “Okay, Connor. I need you to sit up just one more time to take these pills and then you can go to bed, yeah?”

He groans, “I think I drank too much, baby,” he mumbles, pushing himself up and I'm once again in awe of how his muscles move with him.

I scratch at my scalp and nod, holding out the pills for him. “Yeah, I think you did, too.” He takes them in his hand and I sit next to him, uncapping the water bottle before handing it to him as well.

“Thank you,” he hiccups.

“You’re welcome.” I look down at my hands as he takes the pills. He goes to hand me the water bottle back but I shake my head, “You need to drink it all. We’re trying to avoid a hangover.”

He just holds the bottle in his lap, not moving to drink anymore of it, so I look back up at him only to find him already staring at me.

“You okay?” I ask.

He hums and reaches forward. He runs his thumb under my eye, “You got an eyelash. I got it,” he mumbles, but he keeps his hand cradling the side of my face.

My eyes search his tired ones, they’re glossed over, but they always get that way when he drinks, making his eyes seem just a little more blue than green.

“Have I told you tonight that you look pretty?” he asks quietly.

“Multiple times,” I confirm.

“Good, because you are… so, so pretty.”

I lick my lips and watch his eyes move from my eyes to my lips and back. I take in a shallow breath as he starts to lean closer. His eyes closed as his face inches toward mine. I push him back gently just before his lips have the chance to connect with mine, and I mean just before because I could feel his breath against my mouth. “What are you doing?” I question.

“I was… I was trying to kiss you. Did you, I thought you wanted to - when we were laying in bed a couple weeks ago, you said you wanted me to kiss you.”

“Well, I… Connor,” I shake my head. I didn’t think he heard me when I said that. “Not like this. Not tonight. Not when you’re drunk and not thinking clearly.” I stand up, pacing slowly in front of him. “If you’re gonna kiss me, I want you to be sober, and to actually want to do it. Not just because we got in a fight earlier. I don’t want this to be something you do now and then completely forget about or ignore, or fuck, even worse, regret in the morning. I don’t want that. I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve to be led on by you again.”

“Again?” He asks, tilting his head at me.

“Nevermind. I should go back out there, start cleaning up so it’s not so much tomorrow.”

“Wait, y/n, please. Stay here, please. Stay with me tonight.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I won’t try anything, I promise. Please, just stay?”

I sigh, “Just until you fall asleep.”

---

It’s nearing eleven in the morning when Shawn finally retreats from his room. He’s not nearly as hungover as I bet the other boys are going to be. If he’s even hungover at all, he doesn’t seem to be.

He leans against the counter, watching me pull my second batch of cookies from the oven. “You’re stress baking,” he observes.

I scoff, “I made muffins too,” I nod in the direction of the counter in front of him where a plate of blueberry muffins sits.

“Ooh,” he reaches forward and takes one, “Not that I like when you’re stressed, but this my favorite of your coping mechanisms.”

“For purely selfish, I presume.”

“Of course,” he says around a mouthful of muffin. “So,” he says after he swallows. “Does this sudden urge to bake have anything to do with what happened last night with Connor?”

I tense up at the memory of Connor leaning in to kiss me. Me pushing him away. “Maybe.”

“So what did happen after I left you two?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head.

“Well, the glorious smell of our kitchen and the spotless living room say otherwise.”

I close my eyes and rub my hands over my face. “He, god, he tried to kiss me.”

“What?” Shawn chokes.

“Shh! You’ll wake them.”

“Oh please, Brain will be asleep until five. Nothing will wake him. He kissed you?! Well, how was it?”

“I said he tried. As in, I didn’t let him. I pushed him away before he could.”

“Why? Don’t you want him to?”

“Of course! But not like that! Not when he’s drunk and not himself. WHen he’s saying stupid things like he wants to make love to me, and that he wishes I was undressing him for the first time under different circumstances.”

“What? He said all of that?! Oh my god! Go, Connor!”

“No, not go Connor. Because he’s not going to remember any of this when he wakes up and I’m going to remember everything and have to pretend that he didn’t say anything or try to kiss me. And I’m stuck being led on once again, except this time he lives just down the hall and I have to see him everyday.”

Shawn sighs, “Okay, you’re right. So, what are you going to do?”

“Same thing I always do.”

He nods, “I’ll get my guitar.”

***

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