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singmyaubade · 5 months

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Shades Of Cool

toxic!dark!rafe cameron x female!pogue!reader

summary: you are just living your life, completely normal and free. but, what happens when rafe cameron decides that you are his? he's danger.

warnings: smut! 18+ stalking, manipulation, rafe is obsessed with reader, fingering, swearing, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, praise, oral (male receiving), dark!rafe cameron, choking, jealousy, violence, heavy smut..

a/n: i'm delighted I'm finally starting this, even if it took me so long. i genuinely hope you all enjoy this series. i understand that this a bit short, but the narrative is only getting started, so things will only get wilder! however, it is to be expected—this is a rafe cameron fic.

series

One thing that you hated about Outer Banks was how the heat still radiated at night, causing excessive amounts of water to be drank and a great amount of fans that blew hot air into your face.

It only made everyone irritable and only caused more arguments like now,

"I swear to god JJ, I am about to fucking murder you if you say another word," You hissed, giving him a glare as he mockingly grew scared.

"I agree," Cleo said before falling back into her nap.

"All I'm saying is that we have been moping around here for hours meanwhile we could be partying on the fresh beach and cool water," JJ replied, using his hands to represent the scenery to all of you.

"I'm going to have to agree with Y/N," Pope said, turning his head to JJ, "I'm already in tough shit with my parents for when you knocked over my great-grandmothers vase," Pope glared.

JJ put his hands up in defense, "I told you tequila makes me clumsy,"

"Besides every single Kook is there, including Rafe and if he sees Sarah with us, it will only bring another fight and you are not going back to jail," Kie warned, still closing her eyes while the fan blew the air in her face, blowing her hair.

"When have we ever been scared of Rafe?" JJ asked.

"When he gave me a full smackdown for doing my job," Pope scoffed.

"And when he almost drowned me," Sarah chimed in from across the room where she was laying on John B's legs on the carpet floor.

"And when he shot Sheriff Peterkin in front of us," John B added.

"And when-" Pope began.

"Okay that's enough," He said as you giggled, turning your head back to the fan.

You didn't know much about Rafe Cameron since you had moved to Outer Banks only last year and you had met the "star Pogues" a few months ago.

You had never really seen Rafe's face ever, only heard of him honestly.

But you didn't know if it was a bad thing.

All you had heard about was how evil and villainous he was which caused some places to be off limits for the fact that the boys couldn't handle another beat down with the Kooks and there was a greater matter at hand.

But still, you always were curious about "evil" Rafe Cameron.

"You guys are no fun," JJ pouted, sitting beside you on the couch.

You patted the lower part of his leg, "Poor baby," You sarcastically said to which moved his leg swiftly causing you to laugh.

Suddenly the lights and fans turned off as you all except for JJ groaned, knowing that meant the electricity was off you and you would have to deal with the heat and darkness.

Which meant the only choice was the beach party,

JJ cheered, "I win!"

You crossed your arms as you walked on the warm sand, lots of cheering and loud music around you. You could see the Kooks and the Pogues in their own groups, not daring to interact with eachother.

It was hard to get used to the fact that there were two groups of people based on economic statuses and that it meant that if you were one thing, the other one hated you.

You had never been to a place like that but you just kinda got used to it.

Yet you still could never tell which group was really which sometimes.

You were forced to walk around by yourself as John B and Sarah wandered off to a quiet spot while JJ started drinking with Kie as his babysitter and Cleo and Pope wandered around.

All of it sounded like a lot of third wheeling which made you stay away.

But you didn't mind being alone, you liked listening to the waves and watching the festivities that went along with a party.

And you knew that a beer would help you get more into the party festivities.

You walked over the keg where a man with a shaved head and a matching tank top and shorts poured himself a beer as you curiously looked at him.

You had to admit that he was one of the most attractive men you had seen before.

His lips were a perfect shade of pink and they were smooth like sucking on a cherry. His veins were bulging from his hands and you could see the peach fuzz on his jawline that you could only really see upclose.

You snapped out of your analysis as he looked at you as you waited there awkwardly, forming a smile on your face.

"Sorry to creepily stand here, I'm just trying to get a uh-" You said, pointing to the keg.

His face studied you for a second, almost as if he was trying to figure you out. You could tell by his face that he had never seen you before and he looked as if he was trying to figure out if you were a Kook or Pogue.

He chuckled, "Didn't mean to take so long, I wouldn't have if I had seen your pretty face sooner," He smirked, looking you up and down, causing you to blush.

You felt stupid for blushing over something that a man probably said to every pretty girl he saw but you felt something different about him.

You were taken aback by his boldness, "Do you say that to every women that waits for her turn on the keg?" You teased.

"Only the pretty ones," He replied, causing you to laugh.

"Smooth talker I see," You smiled.

"Always," He joked, "I swear I've never seen you around and usually, you know everyone in Outer Banks," He probed.

"Yeah, I just moved here last year," You answered, "I haven't made my rounds yet,"

"Figured," He said, "I would've definitely noticed you,"

"Pfft," You beamed, "I'm sure you would've walked past me on the beach, there are many beautiful girls here,"

"Nah," He laughed, looking off, "You are different from them,"

"How could you already assume that?" You asked, curiosity biting at you.

"For one, you aren't stuck up and preppy which is most the girls on this island," He grinned as you giggled.

"Ay, they aren't all like that," You replied.

"Most of 'em," He added, "But I don't pay much attention to them,"

"Figures," You said, eyebrow raising.

He saw your eyes move the keg and his cup before he offered his cup forward.

"Might as well take mine, I wouldn't feel proud of myself if I let you pour one yourself," He winked.

Great attempt at being a gentlemen.

"No no, I got it," You said before he shook his head.

"I insist" He said, his thumb grazing yours.

"Thank you," You smiled, "I'm Y/N" You introduced, taking the cup from him while extending your other hand for him to shake.

He shook your hand, "I'm Rafe," He replied with a smile as yours slowly fell.

The Rafe? The Rafe you were basically supposed to never interact with and who was the supposed devil? That Rafe?

"Rafe Cameron?" You asked, standing frozen.

"Guess my reputation precedes me," He joked as you didn't laugh but instead cleared your throat.

You took your hand back quickly, "Oh, i-it's nice to meet you," You cleared your throat, "My friends are waiting so I'm gonna-"

He clearly figured you out, "Pogue, I'm guessing?" He snickered.

Your face wrinkled, "Is that supposed to be a funny thing?"

"Hilarious actually," He answered, only angering you more.

"I don't see what's funny about that?" You crossed your arms with ur drink resting in your hand.

He wiped his jaw, "Must be tough at the bottom of the food chain,"

Your nose flared, "Must be tough being an elite asshole,"

He laughed, "I just think it's an unfortunate cause, I mean it's just unlucky," He smirked.

Asshole.

"Unlucky?" Your lip pursed, " I think what's more unlucky is thinking that your cool for a fucked up economic status that has been perpetuated on an island,"

"I just don't believe your friends belong on Outer Banks," He said, not a hint of hesitance in his voice.

He really believed in this bullshit.

"I mean you would really rather hang out with a group of dirty Pogues?" He snickered, looking off.

"Well I am one of them and they are my friends," You scoffed, "You seem more dirty than us," You insulted.

"Is that so?" Rafe mocked.

"Do you wanna talk about your father's dirty money?" You asked.

"I would watch that pretty mouth," He replied, inching closer.

"Or what?" You hummed, acting braver than you usually would.

"Fuck around and find out sweetheart," He came closer, breath fawning on your face.

The whiskey on his breath kissed your nose but not breaking your eye contact with him as you inched closer, eyes on his lips.

As he tried to close the gap, you threw the drink in his face. "Oohs" and snickers filled around the both of you as you stomped away from him.

He smirked, wiping the alcohol off of his face.

'What an asshole,' You thought,

Little did you know that Rafe only grew to like you more.

You found JJ and Kie sitting by the beach together as she laid her head on his shoulder. You were thinking about interrupting them but tarnish their moment, you choosing instead to call it a night and also you didn't feel like trying to find the rest of the group.

You were glad that you knew yourself enough to drive to the party considering that you got tired fast. You couldn't really see in the parking lot due to how dark it was and away from the lights.

You digged in your back pocket for your phone to pull out of the flashlight as you reached for your keys but dropped them instead in the process.

You audibly groaned as you searched on the floor in the darkness for the keys. You went on your knees with your flashing light, searching on the ground as you heard footsteps behind you, darting your flashlight behind you but seeing nothing.

You had a bad feeling but you thought it was paranoia because you were alone in the parking lot and maybe a little due to the interaction you had earlier with Rafe.

You couldn't stop thinking about how he came off as nice but switched so quickly into an elitist piece of shit.

Sounds like how they described him.

But still, there was a pit in your stomach that felt like butterflies when he grazed your thumb.

You sighed, pushing the thoughts out as you finally grabbed your keys, using the concrete-sanded floor push yourself back up off the ground.

Suddenly, you felt a cloth on your mouth and a hand covering your waist as your muffled screams filled the parking lot, trying to kick your attacker behind you.

You felt yourself drifting into the darkness as you screamed one last time,

And everything went black.

tags: @hysteriahall @avengersassemblee @lighttism @whereismymindnow @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @vi06ma01 @haven247 @vanessa-rafesgirl @blvebanisters @riordanness @aleidag1rly @muzanjackson22

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sweet-as-an-angel · 5 months

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so! you mentioned in the 'p0rn preferences' post that Gaz is not the one who jerks off the most in the 141, and I humbly ask you, who would that be?

I don't mean this as a request, just a little discussion, cause I feel like Soap would just be going at it at any chance possible, like a bunny. he probably doesn't care much if someone hears it, but that's just me thinking too much into it.

Who Jerks off the Most in the 141 + König

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of Masturbation, Male Masturbation, Implied Reader in Individual Headcanons, Accidental and Implied Voyeurism, Edging, Brief Mention of Injury, Men Who Moan <3, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

A/N: As per Anon's question (which I just had to turn into a post of its own) I present to you the list of the 141 members (and König) who jerk off from the most to least <3

Soap

I have to agree with you here, Anon - Johnny is most definitely the king of self love when it comes to the 141.

He doesn't much care where he is or who he's with; when he has to satisfy his needs, he'll do so.

Though, he'll spare whoever's with him the sight of watching him throwing his head back, trying to stifle his moans behind gritted teeth whilst the wet sound of his hand slipping up and down the length of his shaft fill the room.

Unless they want to.

For one reason or another, he's nigh-insatiable when it comes to his libido, and the fact that his stamina affords him the luxury of beating himself off until his cum is practically translucent doesn't help.

The slightest thing can set him off.

Someone brushing past him ? Hard.

Someone stroking his ego a little too enthusiastically ? Bricked up.

He sees something that's shaped to be a little too curvy or phallic ? Stiff as a pole.

He remembers something mildly suggestive you did three years ago in that restaurant ? He's going to the Horny Realm.

Yes, his teammates have complained about his incessant moaning-come-grunting-come-whimpering through all hours of the night, his voice contorting through a spectrum of desperation and Johnny always ending up spent and overstimulated by the time the sun comes up.

And then he's ready to do it all again the second night touches the horizon line, giving his teammates a knowing smile when he walks into the room sporting nothing else save for a pair of boxers and a monster that looks to be trying to tear itself free from them.

Gaz

Dude's young. Of course he's throttling that rooster on a nigh-daily basis.

The only reason he's not at it as much as Soap is because he likes to believe he still has a few threads of his self-restraint intact.

He doesn't.

Especially when it comes to you (regardless of whether you're dating yet or not).

But he doesn't need to know that.

Honestly, the only thing that separates him from Johnny's unmatched libido is the fact that it takes a little more than the slightest provocation to get Gaz going.

Albeit, that line is a thin one.

If he so much as accidentally sees something explicit for upwards of three seconds, he's hard.

The only advantage of his need for satisfaction is the speed with which he can achieve it.

He and Johnny actually timed each other once to see who could get off the fastest.

Gaz won. Though, only by a slim margin.

Needless to say, that made for a rather interesting conversation with the Captain when he walked in on two of his best soldiers sat panting on the edge of their cots, an almost-translucent spray spattered across their stomachs, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Ghost

The third-in-line for the Throttle Throne is none other than our beloved Ghost.

Unlike Johnny and Gaz, Ghost is more likely to leave himself alone at the first sign of trouble, toughing it out until he can will his mind to less lustful pastimes.

He won't make his jacking off known to anyone, either, often doing it in the shower where the water beats down so harshly that no sound can be heard for the water's fall.

That, and he's a master at keeping his voice low, no matter the circumstances.

More often than not, Simon makes quick work of jerking off purely because it’s a means to an end. However, if it’s you he’s thinking of, he’s much more likely to take his time — to immerse himself in the fantasy of your body around his, taking him so well in one capacity or another. Fucking yourself dumb on his cock.

During these times, he’s thorough — much more likely to edge himself, to throw his head back and growl between gritted teeth, to savour the sensation coiling in his stomach, his balls growing tight.

Otherwise, he’ll stroke one out as quickly as he can, getting back to business as usual.

And to look at him, on the surface, you'd never know that he just spent the last three minutes rubbing one out in the bathroom (yes, he is also a contender for first place in the 'Who Can Jack Off The Quickest Competition', but he'll never allow Johnny or Gaz the luxury of witnessing his unprecedented skill; that's for your eyes only).

Until he corners you, breathing down your neck, scolding you for tempting him - a man whose restraint lies only in his ability to hold off from reducing you to an exponential reflection of his prior state, breathless and covered in fluids.

König

Have you seen the size of that thing ? Man should be in the olympics for being able to throw that weight around.

Similarly to Ghost, König only gets himself off when it's absolutely necessary.

Only if he doesn't have you lying around to help him, of course.

Though, he lets himself have a bit of fun with it. Especially if it's been a tough day.

He's vocal, too. Though he tries not to be.

He just can't help it. Days' - maybe even weeks' - worth of unspent adrenaline and semen is hardly any way for a soldier like König to go about his life. So, he expels it in the privacy of quite literally any isolated space he can find.

König is not an adventurous spirit by any means when it comes to self pleasure, but when needs must, he's willing to shoulder the weight of the prospect that someone on his team could walk in at any second and catch him spraying his stomach or the wall white with, let's face it, thick ropes of cum.

Hong-Jin's actually caught him doing that before now.

That's actually how the two became friends: Horangi heard König grunting in the store cupboard and, knowing how stubborn his Colonel was with letting others know when he was injured, sought him out. Wanted to offer his help.

Catching Colonel König in the act of throwing his head back whilst growling the name '(Y/N)' into the darkest corner of the room was, suffice it to say, not what Horangi had been expecting.

Price

You just know he's cool with it. And by 'cool', I mean incredibly intentional, controlled, and not ravenous in the ways our other favourite military princesses are.

Sure, Price has gotten hard on the job a few times.

Who hasn't ?

But thanks to his level head, unwavering devotion to his work, and absolute refusal to acknowledge that he did, in fact, get a little bit of a chub during a shoot-out, he's managed to gain control over every facet of his body.

Until he comes home to you, of course.

Until he's able to loom over you like an omen and run his hands down your sides, stopping at your hips and pressing kisses that become more open-mouthed the further down the side of your neck he dips.

Pressing his hips into yours. Something demands your attention.

There have been very few occasions where a cold shower wasn't a quick enough fix for him.

When the days of having you milk him are too far out of sight, he's had to suffice with his own hands before now. Had to imagine - remember - what yours felt like in his place, your lips curled up as he gripped the chair arms, breathless as he moaned into the warm tones of your shared apartment.

But don't worry ! He'll be sure to catch you up on everything you've missed while he's been away once he returns.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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luveline · 10 months

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I would love to do a request if you would like! Some sort of Spencer Reid x Reader where the reader is super bad ass, tough, doesn’t show much emotion is kind of cold to others but has the biggest soft spot for Spencer!! 🫶🏻

thanks for your request lovey, I would love to write more of this pairing if you have any more requests ♡ fem!reader

"Here comes the ice queen," Morgan mutters, turning his chair away from the walkway.

You walk down the steps from Hotch's office. Whether you were praised or reprimanded is anybody's guess —your face never gives anything away. Spencer doesn't necessarily agree with the way Morgan's categorised you, but he isn't wrong either. You're like Hotch in temperament, if Hotch were soft on only Spencer.

That might have something to do with why Spencer won't call you cold. You're never cold with him.

"What did boss man want?" Morgan asks.

"If it were your business, Morgan, I'm sure you'd already know." You don't say it spitefully, but it's far from a warm answer.

Spencer honestly asks just to piss Morgan off, "Everything okay?"

You visibly soften. Walking past Morgan without notice, you pause by Spencer's desk, your voice quieter, gentler. "Don't worry, Spence, everything's fine. You still reading that book about sex crimes in Arizona?"

"I finished it. Doesn't take long."

"No, you're fast," you agree. "What are you gonna read next?"

It's amazing how swiftly you shift gears. Your body language totally changes, your shoulders slouching toward him, your hand open and resting on the back of his chair as if you might touch his hair. Morgan shoots Reid a look that says, What is happening right now?

"I was thinking about reading up on the Milk Killer, from 1954. He tried to give his victims blood transfusions high in lactose in an attempt to cure intolerance."

Even Spencer admits that that sounds boring, but your face lights up with genuine interest. "That could be good. You'll have to tell me how it goes."

"Sure." Spencer squints at you. "You have something on your face."

"Yeah?" you ask, and Morgan goes wild behind you, dipping back in his chair in disbelief at your breathless tone. "What is it? Can you get it for me?"

You bend a little and Spencer wipes the lint from your face sweetly. He wonders if he should be blushing, your affection for him as clear as it is, but for once, Spencer Reid feels smug. He can melt someone that Morgan can't. "All gone," he says. Smugness aside, you're a friend (and maybe a little more than that).

"Thanks, Spence," you say, popping a kiss against his cheek. "You saved me from embarrassing myself."

Morgan clears his throat. You barely move, your hands twisting behind your back. "Hey, lovergirl," he says, making himself heard.

"What, Morgan?" you ask, finally looking away from Spencer's pinking cheeks.

"You have something," he says, pointing at the corner of his mouth.

"So?" you ask indifferently. You turn back to Spencer as though nothing occurred. "Do you want to go to the movies again this weekend? They're playing a silent film. I think you'll like it."

Spencer smiles genuinely. It's not his main concern, but it's definitely an added bonus to hear Morgan's sighed, "Are you kidding?" as he nods vehemently.

"I'd love to," Spencer says.

"Okay. It's a date," you say, smiling at him so nicely it feels like he can't breathe.

"What's a date?" Emily asks as she returns from the kitchenette, eyebrows jumping.

"It's a marker used to denote the day or month within a year," you say primly. "I have to go make copies for Hotch."

You don't say goodbye. Morgan likes you, really, in the same way you like Morgan, so he gives Spencer a dazed look followed by a small smile. "Good luck with that."

Spencer looks over his shoulder to follow your figure as you carry a box of reports to the photocopier. "I don't think I need luck," he murmurs. You glare at the copier, clicking one of its buttons aggressively. "She's nicer than you guys think."

"Sure."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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girlgenius1111 · 2 months

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all that i did to try to undo it

engen!reader... platonic ingrid & reader + platonic mapi & reader

r lives with her sister, but their relationship is rather rocky. can they fix it before it's broken beyond repair? angst. pretty much just angst. r is not mentally well. proceed with caution.

–-----

Moving from Norway to Spain wasn’t your idea. It seemed that your parents had had quite enough of you. You knew you could have been better behaved, but you hadn’t realized they were so frustrated that they were willing to send you away. Not until it was too late.

It was your friends, back in Norway, that were the issue. They were why you snuck out and drank and cut school and generally broke all the rules that had been set for you. And this was why, when you arrived in Spain, it all… stopped. Mostly because you barely spoke Spanish and had no friends. Also because Ingrid had adopted a rather tough love attitude with you. She was strict and cold and you knew that she wouldn’t tolerate any missteps. And honestly, you didn’t know where you’d go if Ingrid decided she didn’t want you around anymore. Not that you were sure she really did in the first place; you were pretty convinced that she was doing this as a favor to your parents. She didn’t want you here, and you weren’t going to push her to do something about that.

Unbeknownst to you, Ingrid did want you there. It had been her idea for you to come to Spain in the first place. Your parents were at a loss with what to do with you, and Ingrid was tired of hearing how frustrated they were with you when she knew you were just trying to get their attention. She decided she could probably do a better job, simply by just paying attention. And so she did. She moved you in, she got on your ass about your responsibilities and your future, and you hadn’t yet put a toe out of line. Your sister was determined that you assimilate, thinking it would make it easier for you, so she only allowed you to speak Spanish in the home. She had Mapi read over your essays, and help with your grammar. She drove you to school everyday, and made you all eat dinner together as a family every night. It seemed to be working. You were quiet, but behaved. Ingrid was pretty convinced she’d done a good job, and solved the issue. You were a teen, and she figured you didn’t need her trying to hangout with you all the time.

So, while Ingrid paid attention to your school, she didn’t pay much attention to you. She didn’t know you didn’t have any friends at your school, or that a lot of the kids were pretty cruel to you. She didn’t know school had turned into an entire nightmare, and that you had to push through an insane amount of anxiety just to walk through the front doors every morning. She didn’t know that you were behaving because you were scared of her kicking you out. She didn’t know you were desperately sad and homesick, not even allowed to speak your language in your own home with her. She didn’t know that all you wanted some days was for her to just pull you into a hug, and tell you she was proud of you. That she loved you.

Why would she? Your parents clearly didn’t. Ingrid had no reason to either.

Mapi had some reservations about the way Ingrid was with you. It was a complete 180 from the Norwegian’s normal demeanor. Ingrid was smiley and warm and silly with the younger girls on the team, and stern and harsh with you. Mapi noticed the way you watched your sister with her teammates, face full of jealousy. As time went on, though, and you didn’t cause trouble, Ingrid became more and more sure that her approach was the right one. Mapi still wasn’t as convinced. She wasn’t quite sure it was her place to say anything, though, so she kept a watchful eye on everything, and made sure to make you feel like their home was yours too.

You didn’t quite know what to make of Mapi, honestly. She was clearly infatuated with your sister. And she was always so kind to you. Mapi made you coffee every morning, made sure to buy all your favorite foods at the store, and she reminded you, repeatedly, that if you ever wanted to talk, about anything, she was around. But Mapi was Ingrid’s. Not yours. If Ingrid was so reluctant to show you any affection, you shouldn’t seek it out from her girlfriend.

You were quietly miserable. Ingrid thought you were okay, finally mellowing out. Mapi was caught somewhere in the middle, seeing both the side of yourself you hid from your sister, and the neutral façade you put on in front of her.

For you, things couldn’t get much worse. Or at least, you didn’t think so.

------

It had been a while since you’d gotten in a fight. You’d forgotten how good it felt to punch someone in the face who very much had it coming.

It was your birthday. You would have forgotten, too, if a few of your old friends hadn’t texted you. Ingrid had forgotten. You’d woken up to her knocking on your door like she always did. She was focused on the important training session ahead, and barely spoke to you on the way to school. She’d forgotten your birthday, and you thought that it hadn’t bothered you. Until the idiotic group of boys was following you down the hallway, saying awful things. Until you’d snapped back at them in a way you never did, and until they began throwing punches. And you didn’t run. You turned and you fought and you let your anger and your hurt out for the first time in months. For the first time since you left Norway.

There was an odd sense of calm that washed over you, waiting in the dean’s office for your sister to arrive. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, in that moment, what she would think. Your hands hurt, your face hurt, and you’d finally stood up for yourself to the awful boys that wouldn’t leave you alone.

When Ingrid walked into the office, though, an absolutely livid expression on her face, you realized you did care. Very much. You had been waiting on the dean, and although he was a scary man, you would have rather faced him at that moment.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Ingrid hissed, grabbing your face in her hands and inspecting your wounds.

“Ing,”

“Do not. I cannot believe you. I don’t want to hear your excuses or your explanations. You are going to apologize to the dean, take your punishment, and we are going to go home. I’ll deal with you there. Understand?”

You lowered your head, nodding. She took the seat on your other side, still visibly angry, though she softened for just a second as she looked closely at your hand.

“Is anything broken?” She asked quietly. Your eyes flooded with tears at the question, everything inside of you screaming to lean into her arms. She was angry, you thought. She was angry, and she wouldn’t want to hug you right now.

“I don’t think so.” You mumbled instead.

“Good. María will patch you up when we get home.” Her tone was cold again, and you began to zone out. The dean walked in, spewing a long lecture. He didn’t tell Ingrid that you hadn’t swung first, or that the boys had been bothering you for weeks. He didn’t tell Ingrid what they called you, or that it was three 18 year old boys against an 18 year old girl. He just said that the school didn’t tolerate fighting, and that you would be suspended for a week.

The worst part was that Ingrid didn’t even ask what happened. Not in the office, not in the car, not when you both got home. You used to get into fights all the time, back in Norway. She thought this was more of the same from you. Your sister stormed off to call your mom the minute you were in the house, leaving you standing in the entry hall in front of Mapi, eyes fixed on the ground.

Mapi’s hand was gentle when it rested on your back, gently guiding you up the stairs and into the couple’s bathroom. She sat you on the counter like you were a little kid, and pulled out the first aid kit. Only then did you raise your head and look at her. You thought she would be mad, but she only looked concerned.

“She hates me.” You said it before you could stop yourself, and your voice shook over every syllable. Mapi’s face melted, and she shook her head insistently, carefully wiping a tear off your face.

“No, nena. She’s upset, but she loves you very much.” Mapi seemed convinced. She loved your sister, after all. And though you didn’t know it, Mapi had been a witness to your sister worrying over you for 2 years now.

There was no use arguing, so you stopped talking again, and Mapi got back to cleaning your face up. She asked you a couple questions in English about things that hurt and didn’t hurt, and you responded in English. Mapi had moved on to cleaning the cuts on your knuckles when Ingrid appeared.

“Can you bend your fingers?” Mapi asked.

“Yeah, it’s a little sore, but I can bend them.” You replied.

“Español.” Ingrid scolded. You nodded, correcting yourself quickly, now trying to stifle the flow of tears flowing from your eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Ingrid asked, stepping in closer to study you closely.

“Okay. Hurts a bit but I’m fine.” You said softly.

“Do you promise it just hurts a bit?” Ingrid asked.

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. Your body didn’t hurt that bad. You hurt though. Every inch of you ached with a deep sadness, a deep loneliness. But that wasn’t what Ingrid had asked.

“We have a dinner tonight, a team dinner. Will you be okay here if we go?”

A little bit of you shattered, then. Maybe you’d been hoping that Ingrid had remembered your birthday, had been planning a fun dinner or something. Clearly not.

“Yeah. I’ll get a head start on my homework.” You managed, biting down hard on your lip to stop yourself from crying. Ingrid nodded, satisfied, but Mapi didn’t look away from you.

“Are you sure? You look a bit upset, nena. We can stay if you need us.”

You shook your head harshly. “No, I’m fine. Promise.”

You were very far from fine. You needed to be alone, though, if you were going to feel every complicated emotion raging through you.

------

“Ingrid,” Mapi said suddenly, about halfway into their drive to the restaurant. Ingrid hummed in response, looking over at her girlfriend from the passenger seat. “Your sister said something today. And it seemed like she really, really believed it. I think you need to be a little easier on her, amor. She’s just a kid.”

“What did she say?” Ingrid wondered, head stuck on that comment.

Mapi hesitated, well aware of how hard this might hit Ingrid. “She said you hated her. She was pretty convinced, Ingrid. How mad were you at the school?”

Ingrid sighed roughly, running an exhausted hand over her face. “Fuck. She’s always been dramatic, I forget that she’s just… sensitive sometimes. I was pretty harsh.” She admitted.

“Amor, I know you think this strict approach is working, but I don’t know. She seems so sad sometimes. She’s just a kid, and she’s doing her best. I think she needs you to be a bit… softer with her.” Mapi suggested, finally voicing the thoughts that had been plaguing her for weeks, if not months.

Ingrid was quiet for a while. “Maybe. I don’t know, I thought it was working, but then today happened. I don’t know what to do.”

“Why don’t you just… talk to her? What was the fight even about?” Mapi asked.

Ingrid didn’t respond, her frustration with herself quickly replacing her frustration with you.

“You didn’t ask?” Mapi sighed.

“No, but the dean didn’t say either.” Ingrid defended halfheartedly.

“That probably isn’t a good thing mi amor. We’ll talk to her when we get home. Figure out what’s going on.” Mapi declared.

“We?” Ingrid asked quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“We.” Mapi affirmed, looking cautiously at her girlfriend. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay.” Ingrid assured her. “I think she might need both of us.”

It was clearer, now, to Ingrid. Suddenly, and very painfully. That she’d gone about this wrong. The extent of the damage that had been done was not yet to be realized, though.

--------

The silence that echoed through the house was what got you. Today, on your 18th birthday, you sat alone at the kitchen table, tears falling freely from your eyes. They stung the cuts in on your face, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. It felt like wherever you went, you messed up. Wherever you went, you weren’t wanted. When you’d come to Norway, you’d had hope that maybe things would be different. Maybe Ingrid would treat you differently than your parents. She had, but you still didn’t feel loved. It felt like there was something fundamentally wrong with you that drove everyone away. You just wanted to make it better, and yet, at the same time, you felt so incredibly hopeless. Like there was nothing in the world you could do to make your family love you. You supposed it was your fault; you’d been acting out for years. Everyone was bound to get tired of you. You didn’t want to be like that, you just didn’t know what else to do. The age gap to your siblings was huge, your parents were tired of being parents, and no one had any time for you. Or the desire to make time. You’d done the only thing you could think of at the time to get their attention, and it had only made things worse. You had only made things worse.

And still, a part of you was angry. Furious. Did you have to be perfect? Did you have to make no mistakes? Shouldn’t they love you regardless of all that? There was no consistency in your brain; sometimes it all felt like your fault, and other times it felt like there wasn’t anything you could do right.

You felt the inexplicable urge to apologize. Really apologize, really explain. Maybe they could forgive you. Maybe Ingrid could forgive you, maybe you could get her to understand. You didn’t think you could make it through an entire apology, though, not verbally, not face to face with your intense sister. So you got out a piece of paper, and began writing.

Ingrid,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry you got stuck with me, and I’m sorry I haven’t been good enough. I’ve tried, I promise I have. Sometimes I feel like it isn’t possible for me to meet your standards, but I still try.

I’m sorry about the fight today. They came at me, I swear. These three boys have been bothering me since I've arrived, and they say horrible things to me, and I just snapped. I should have just kept quiet, and they never would have started the fight, and I’m sorry I didn’t do that.

I’m sorry I’m always home and bothering you and Mapi. I’m sorry I haven’t made any friends here, and I’m sorry my spanish isn’t perfect. I’m sorry I'm so miserable. I don’t know why I can’t just be happy, but I can’t. I want to be. I really do. It just feels like you’re always mad at me. I feel like such an awful person no matter what I do. Mom and Dad didn’t want me. And I don’t think you want me. I don’t think I want me either, sometimes.

I’m trying to like it here, but it’s so different. I miss Mom and Dad, even though I know they don’t miss me. I miss my home and I miss Norway. I miss my friends. I didn’t really feel like I belonged there, but at least it was familiar.

I think I’m mad at you, too. You’re my sister, Ingrid. Do you always have to be so harsh with me? I think I’d be happier, if you seemed happier that I was here.

You forgot my birthday. Mom and Dad didn’t remember either. I turned 18 today. I turned 18 today, and you and Mapi went to dinner without me. I made a sandwich and ate it by myself in the kitchen. I’ve never felt so worthless. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this. I just want you all to love me again. I want to love myself again. I think I’d do anything, to feel like I have a family again.

I’m so desperate I’m writing you this absurd letter that I’ll probably never give you. I don’t know if I can give it to you. I’m scared to give it to you, and I’m scared not to.

I’m scared because sometimes I think everyone would be better off without me. I’m scared because it feels like no one would even notice if I was gone. It feels so easy. Everyday it feels like it would be easier.

I guess I’m asking for help, Ingrid. I don’t want to ask you to fix this for me, but I don’t think I can do it myself. I want to be better, I want to

Your writing cut off abruptly, as the front door opened. All you felt was panic. You were a mess, sobbing uncontrollably on the couch with the letter almost completed in front of you. They weren’t supposed to be home yet. The event was supposed to be a long one, and you’d planned on leaving the letter, if you were brave enough, on the kitchen table, and going to bed. Handing it to your sister face to face had never been the plan. You weren’t even sure it made any sense, and you weren’t sure you wanted to give it to her.

The front door swung open anyway, and Mapi walked into the house. You remembered, then, that she was always coming home early. She had a follow up appointment for her knee the following morning, and she hadn’t wanted to be out late. Alexia had driven her home early, not wanting a late night herself. Ingrid was still at the dinner, but Mapi was here. Standing frozen in the entryway, with a perfect view of the disaster you were on the couch. You were frozen, and she was frozen, but then she was moving, moving closer to you, and you couldn’t you couldn’t you couldn’t.

“Pequeña, what is it? What hurts?” Mapi asked urgently, moving to sit next to you on the couch. She thought you must be hurt, physically. The thought that the agony on your face could be from anything else didn't even enter her brain.

She sat next to you, and you were still frozen, not even able to move the piece of paper out of sight.

Mapi saw it. You were using one of your textbooks as a surface, not unlike how you did your homework. Your favorite pen was in your hand. And resting in your lap, on the textbook, was a piece of paper that somehow radiated pain. Mapi was reaching for it before she even knew what she was doing, and you were still frozen. Frozen, staring at Mapi like you were afraid of her. Very suddenly, Mapi was terrified.

“Nena, what is this?” She asked softly. It was to Ingrid. Written in Spanish. Mapi saw her name in it a few places as she scanned it over, before she looked back up at you. “Nena?” she prompted again.

This time, you did move. You jolted forward, reaching for the letter, a deep gasping breath escaping your mouth. Mapi held it out of your grasp, her eyes stuck on one sentence, the only sentence that she’d read so far. It had jumped out at her.

“I’m scared because sometimes I think everyone would be better off without me.”

An instantly, Mapi knew she couldn’t let you take the piece of paper back. She knew she needed to call Ingrid and tell her to come home. She knew she couldn’t let you out of her sight. You were so fragile, though, sitting in front of her like you were second away from shattering into a million pieces. Too many pieces for anyone to ever be able to fix.

“Nena, I think I need to read this.” She whispered, watching carefully as you pulled your hand back towards your body, as you curled in on yourself, and began to shake with silent sobs.

And then Mapi read the letter. With one hand on your back, and one hand tightly clutching the paper, she read the most painful thing she’d ever laid her eyes on. It tore her apart, reading how you felt.

And it wasn’t meant for her. It was meant for Ingrid. And, ridiculously, Mapi wished she could fix it before Ingrid ever read what you’d written. Mapi would have done anything in that moment, to make things right with you, and to make sure Ingrid never had to know how badly she had hurt you. Because realizing it would hurt the Norwegian just as much.

Mapi ached to tell you so many things. That Ingrid loved you so much, she just wasn’t sure how to help you. That she thought what she was doing was working, helping. That she was sure Ingrid didn’t know the date, or she’d have never forgotten your birthday. That she knew Ingrid would do anything, anything in the world, to fix this. That Mapi was sure both she and Ingrid would go back in time if they could, and fix everything that had gone wrong.

She couldn’t force that all on you now. She couldn’t defend Ingrid, or herself.

Instead, she placed the letter carefully on the table, and sent Ingrid a very brief text.

“You need to come home now. Everything is fine, everyone is safe, but you need to come home.”

Instead, Mapi pulled you into her lap, and held you so tight it almost hurt.

Instead, your sister’s girlfriend, who owed you absolutely nothing, told you, over and over, how very loved you were. How proud she was of you. How her and Ingrid were going to fix everything if it killed them.

They’d fix everything before it killed you.

------

🙂

#woso x reader #woso imagine #engen!reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #platonic reader

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karajaynetoday · 4 months

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and i'd give up forever to touch you, cause i know that you'd feel me somehow | jack hughes

Thank you for all the love on hey now, you're an all-star - i am honestly blown away by those notes!! here is a part two. let me know what you think, and what your predictions or desires are for a potential part three! xo

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: nothing major. uni stress again, jack being a bit of a dick. angst. all of the angst.

(This is a fem reader insert) read part one here read the part three here

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Waking up was always slightly disorienting for you, and the next morning was no different.

Your dreams could be quite vivid, or you couldn’t remember them at all once you awoke; but the first thing you could sense on this particular morning was the strong scent of coffee wafting through the room. As your eyes adjusted to the morning light streaming in the windows, you became suddenly and painfully aware that you were alone on the couch. A blanket had been draped over you at some stage of your slumber, but Jack was nowhere to be seen.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your face, trying to ignore the anxiety that was building in your chest. You could hear a shower running, somewhere in the hotel suite, and hastily threw the blanket off your body as you scanned the room for your belongings.

Shoes. Where were your shoes? And phone? Keys? Did you bring a bag with you? What time was it? What time did your class start? Would you be able to get an Uber to Campus in time? Wait, was your class online or on campus this morning?

Your brain was churning out a thousand thoughts a minute, and your heart rate was starting to match it. You felt like a deer in headlights. Or a cat under a rocking chair. Or… just… lost. You were so lost.

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you jolted, whipping around to face Quinn, who was decked out in a brown leather jacket and grey pants, holding two steaming coffee mugs in his hands.

You must have looked distressed, because Quinn offered you a gentle smile and one of the mugs which you cautiously accepted.

“Thanks, Q. I really should get going soon, though. Get out of your hair before the big draft day circus arrives.” Your voice was still slightly groggy with sleep.

“Take as long as you need, sugarplum. Our call time isn’t for another two hours. Jack’s in the shower, and he’d hate it if you left without saying goodbye.” Quinn raised his eyebrows at you as you both took a sip of coffee.

“Watching Jack try and untangle himself from you on the couch did provide me with my morning entertainment though. Surprised he didn’t end up with another injury given how clumsy he usually is.” You felt your cheeks get warm at Quinn’s comment and the smirk on his face.

“He could’ve just woken me up…” You offered weakly, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.

“No offence, but that was a risk that neither of us are willing to take. Not after last summer.” Quinn bit back a laugh as you narrowed your eyes at him.

Last summer at the lake house, you’d stayed up all night trying to finish the latest novel in your favourite fiction series. Jack had come into your room to wake you for the boat day you’d discussed the day before, but instead of a gentle approach to waking you up, he’d literally jumped onto your bed. Which caused you to sit bolt upright and “accidentally” punch him in the face. At least he thought the black eye made him look tough for a couple of weeks.

“Nice jacket, by the way.” You tried to change the subject.

Quinn stood up straight and puffed out his chest.

“You think so? Jack and I got to go down to Hermés and pick out our outfits yesterday. I felt suuuuper out of my league to be honest.”

Your eyes widened at the brand name Quinn just dropped, slightly choking on your coffee.

“Hermés? That’s proper designer, Q. Like, tens of thousands of dollars of jacket, right?”

Quinn didn’t answer you, but he didn’t have to. The look on his face told you that the jacket he was wearing was worth more than six months of your rent. Maybe more.

“Well, we have to do this red carpet thing, and I figured we should probably try a bit harder than team merch.” Quinn reached over and tugged playfully on the sleeve of your hoodie.

Well, Jack’s hoodie. That you happened to be wearing. Which was previously super comfortable, but now felt like your skin was on fire underneath it.

“What time is it, anyway?” There you go again, changing the subject.

“Like, 9.15?” Quinn offered, pulling his phone out of his pocket and showing you the time on his home screen.

9.15? Why was that important to you? What was at 9.15?

The test. In your economics class. Worth a decent chunk of your grade. It was at 9.30am. But was it online or on campus?

You downed the rest of your coffee in one gulp, ignoring how it burned your throat, and thrust your mug back at Quinn before tugging the hoodie over your head and throwing it on the floor. You turned around, searching wildly for your phone and spotting it on the couch where you’d been sleeping, not that long ago. You lunged for it, frantically unlocked and trying to find your university schedule in the calendar app.

“Oh thank god. It’s online. Holy fuck.” You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm yourself down.

“Sugar? You okay?” Jack’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up from your phone to see him standing in the doorway to his room.

Clad in black jeans, with a towel around his shoulders and his hair still damp from the shower. Shirtless. Of course he was shirtless. You squeezed your eyes shut out of instinct, and also to stop yourself from blatantly checking him out. When you opened them, Jack was striding towards you, his face etched in concern.

“What do you need?” Jack spoke quietly, but firmly, reaching out to rub your arms reassuringly. His touch sent a zap of electricity through you, which seemed to kick your brain back into gear.

“I need… Do you have a laptop I can borrow? I have an online test in 15 minutes that I forgot about, for a subject I’m almost failing, and if I miss the test then I don’t know that I’ll be able to recover my grade.” You half-whispered, almost wishing that Jack and Quinn couldn’t hear your confession out loud.

You were supposed to be the smart one. That’s what everyone said, when you were growing up. You were the brains, Jack was the beauty. You were the bookish one, he was the brutally athletic one. Talking about failing university out loud was suddenly terrifying, even though you’d known it was a possibility for a few weeks or more.

“Hey… hey.” Jack squeezed your arms, trying to centre you, and dropped his head down to your eye level. “It’s okay. I’ve got a laptop you can use, and you can stay here for as long as you need.”

All you could muster was a nod in response, and Jack leaned in to kiss your forehead before disappearing back into his room, presumably to find his laptop. You sat back down on the couch, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself.

Quinn had briefly left to place your coffee mug in the kitchenette, but he was back and leaned over the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder.

“You’ll smash it, kiddo. Make sure you ask Jack what his laptop password is though, I’d hate for you to get locked out during your test.” Quinn said quietly, before his phone rang and he stepped into his room to answer it.

“Here you go, sunshine. Fully charged, but the charger is in my room if you need it.” Jack was back in the living room, handing his laptop to you, already logged in and a web browser open for you.

You stood up from the couch and moved towards the dining table, setting the laptop down and pulling out a chair. It only took a minute to log into your university portal and navigate to the subject page you needed for the online test. You were about to click the start button, when Quinn’s comment flashed in your mind.

“Jack?” You squeaked, turning to face the couch where Jack had flopped down moments before. Still clad in black jeans, still fucking shirtless, absolutely ignorant of the effect he was having on your ability to breathe calming, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

“What’s up?”

“What’s… what’s your password? In case I get locked out and you’re not here? Could you write it down for me please?” You reached for the hotel notepad and complimentary pen that was on the table you were sitting at, waving them in Jack’s direction.

Jack rolled his bottom lip under his teeth as he stood up and took the notepad from you and began scribbling on it.

“I have to go downstairs and meet Bratter for some team social media stuff, but I’ll see you later, okay? Text me when you finish your test.” You’d never seen Jack move so quickly as he handed the notepad back to you, retrieved a shirt and jacket from his bedroom and disappeared out the hotel room door, all within a minute or two.

You were confused, to say the least. You glanced down at the notepad Jack had thrust into your hands, and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you saw what he scrawled on it.

Password - SugarpluM2001Jh!

–

Quinn had headed out not long after Jack did, leaving you to complete your test in silence. Despite the disorienting start to your morning, and all of your revision notes being on your desk at home, you managed to scrape through with a 75% result which would supplement your final grade significantly.

The waves of relief washed over you, as you clicked out of web page you were on. You reached for your phone and typed a quick message to Jack as promised, and you were confused when the laptop chimed with a notification noise.

Oh. Oh. Jack’s laptop was linked to his phone, and his messages were suddenly popping up on the laptop screen in front of you.

You shouldn’t pry. You knew that. Your logical brain was telling you to close the laptop screen and get going. But your anxiety brain was telling you that you should take a peek. Just a little one.

Before your logical brain and anxiety brain could battle it out properly, the laptop notification chimed again, and a girl’s name that was not your own flashed up on the screen.

What happened last night? I thought you were coming to my room after your dinner?? Xx

You felt your jaw drop, as you started to realise what was happening in this conversation you shouldn’t have been privy to. You froze, as the little bubble popped up in the chat, showing you that Jack was typing a reply.

Sorry babe i got caught up with some boring family bullshit, you know how it is. Would’ve rather have been with you obvs but i just couldn’t get away. Then today is crazy with media stuff anyway. I’ll see u at the drew house event tonight though? Go back to yours after that? Xo

Sounds great. I’ll be wearing this for you, J. *image attached*

You slammed the laptop shut when the image loaded, showing someone wearing a red and black lingerie set.

You felt bad for snooping, but you felt worse knowing that Jack considered last night as “boring family bullshit”. Is that all it was? Were you stupid for thinking it was more? That it could ever be more between the two of you?

Or was that all you could ever hope to be? Like family. Forever intertwined, always floating in each other’s orbit, but never more than friends. Platonic soulmates at best, childhood acquaintances at worst.

You were spiralling, yet again, and your phone buzzing with a notification provided a brief reprieve. Until you saw that it was a text from Jack.

Well done on your test, champ!! Knew u could do it. See you at the draft tonight? There’s two passes in your email for you and your dad to come visit. Might even get to meet bublé, if that’s your vibe lmao

Suddenly, there was a bitter taste in your mouth. Why was he pretending like he wanted to spend time with you? When surely all he actually wanted to do was sneak off with the girl he was texting just moments ago?

You swiped into check your email app, and there were the passes as promised. You quickly scanned the email to see if they were assigned to any particular name, and all you could see was “guest of Jack Hughes” rather than you or your dad specifically. You quickly hit the “forward” button, and sent them on to your dad and your cousin Tom, who had met Jack and Quinn a handful of times over the years, and was a massive hockey fan like your dad. You knew Tom would love to go, and your dad would be happy enough to have Tom join him.

You sent through a quick message to Tom saying you weren’t feeling well and that he’d be doing you a favour by taking your pass, to which he immediately replied with lots of exclamation points and thanks.

Next, you typed a message back to Jack.

Thanks again for the laptop and for the passes. Something’s come up so i can’t come but dad will be there with tom, hope that is ok? Didn’t want the passes to go to waste. Good luck for the draft, don’t let quinn bully you too much lol

You were hoping that Jack wouldn’t question you, or pick up on the shift in tone. Well, maybe you wanted him to sense the tone a little bit. Jack’s typing bubble popped up in the text conversation, then disappeared, then popped up again, then suddenly your phone was vibrating with a call and Jack’s name was flashing across the top of your screen. Your fingers hovered over the answer/decline buttons, before you abandoned both and dropped your phone back onto the table, letting the call go to voicemail.

You stood up from the table and began to gather your belongings. The bitter taste was still in your mouth, but otherwise you felt nothing. Just numb. You barely realised what you were doing when your body moved towards the hotel suite door, into the elevator, through the lobby and out onto the street. You waited a few minutes for your Uber, before slipping away through the streets of downtown, and as far away from Jack as you felt you needed to be.

By the time you got home, Jack had called you twice, and sent you about ten text messages of various question marks and confusion, and a fair amount of concern. You plugged your phone into the charger on your bedside table before heading into your bathroom for a much-needed shower.

Your shower felt like it took about 3 hours, when in reality it was probably more like 20 minutes at most. You washed your hair, and spent some time sitting down on the shower floor staring into space, pondering the events of the last 24 hours. When you finally emerged, putting on your favourite sweatpants and an old Canucks hoodie you found on your bedroom floor, you realise your phone was flashing with more notifications.

You settled down in bed before picking up your phone and scrolling through the home screen. Jack had resorted to sending you photos of sad baby pandas to elicit a response, your dad had texted you to say thank you for the passes and to feel better soon, but it was a message from Quinn that caught your eye.

Q: What did he do? He’s freaking out. Are you okay? I can beat him up if you want me to. Or give him a hug. Just let me know which is more appropriate based on whatever the fuck he did

You hesitated, contemplating whether to tell Quinn the truth or not. But then you remembered that Quinn had literally known you since you were four. He could tell if you were lying in a heartbeat, even over text message.

You: Maybe just remind Jack that his text messages pop up on his laptop. See if that helps him to figure it out lmao sorry to miss tonight quinny, hope you draft all the canucks you want xo

Q: He now looks like he’s going to throw up?? Still unsure if hugging or punching is required tbh

New message - Jack Hughes -

You sighed and rolled your eyes, before clicking on Jack’s message notification.

I am an idiot. I’m so sorry, sugar. I swear i am.

Sorry for categorising me as “boring family bullshit” or sorry that you got caught trying to get your dick wet? Or sorry for pretending to be my friend when you apparently just tolerate me to be polite?

We have press for two more hours then i can call you. You’re my best friend, sugar. I love you.

You felt tears start to prick in your eyes as you read Jack’s message. Sure, he loved you. But not in the same way that you loved him. And right now, you felt like that would never change.

You clicked out of your message thread with Jack without replying, and opened up your conversation with Quinn instead.

I’ll come to the all-star game on saturday, but nothing else, if that’s okay with you? I just need some space for a bit, sorry x

Whatever you need, kiddo. I’ll give the game passes to your dad tonight. I still don’t know what jack did, but i think not seeing you will be punishment enough for whatever it was??

You didn’t reply to Quinn’s message. You didn’t reply to any more calls or messages for the next day or so, switching between trying to catch up on study and catching up on some Netflix episodes. You were typing notes on your laptop on Saturday morning, when a New Jersey Devils Twitter alert popped up on the screen and caught your attention.

#NEWS: Jack went home to Jersey last night after participating in Thursday’s draft and Friday’s media hits. He was extremely honoured to be a part of All-Star Weekend, especially sharing it with his brother. He’s really close to returning and wanted to get back so he could continue to focus on the rest of the Devils season.

The bitter taste you thought you’d gotten rid of suddenly returned with a vengeance.

Jack went home to Jersey last night. You had no idea when you’d see him again. And to be completely honest, you weren’t even sure that you wanted to. Your laptop dinged again, this time with an email notification. You were confused to say the least when the new email appeared to be from an airline, with a voucher attached.

Your phone buzzed with a new text message.

I couldn’t stand being there knowing you’re mad at me, but i also don’t want to force you to talk to me when you’re not ready to talk yet either. Use the voucher to come to jersey whenever you want. I’m sorry.

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, torn between accepting Jack’s offer and wanting to be stubborn and not let go of being mad at him just yet. You hated what Jack had done, but you also hated yourself for cutting short your time with him that was already in short supply as it was.

I’ll let you know. Might be a flight to Jersey, might be a flight to Michigan. We’ll see. Good luck getting back out there!

You knew the Michigan comment was a cheap shot, but Jack had hurt you, so you wanted to be childish and hurt him back. The idea of not seeing him for almost four months until the summer break, where you’d all gather at the Hughes lake house as you did every year, made you feel slightly ill.

Whatever you want, sugar. Mac n cheese in michigan on me. Love you.

The mac and cheese comment made you smile, and the love you comment made you want to cry.

Love you too, J. Maybe too much. I don’t know. I need time. x

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #my writing #nhl imagine #jack hughes fanfiction

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luffyvace · 2 months

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Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons

These are sfw and gender neutral

for Sanji’s big day! (I’m super late ik hush :3)

pt2 here my sillies :3 : Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons pt2

Dating Sanji includes royal treatment. We all know this. It’s so obvious. 😭 It’s in the manga, it’s canon, we all write it in our headcanons. We know this.

Royal treatment meaning sit back and relax dear, Sanji’s got this. Sea beast? He beat it up and is now cooking a delicious and nutritious sea beast stew for you, would you like that with a smoothie? Lemonade? Water? Ok water. Sparkling? Distilled? Iced?

oh your lost? Don’t worry he’s got bread and he’ll leave breadcrumbs where you’ve walked so you don’t go in circles :)

your clothes are wet? Take his. 💋

there’s mud up ahead and you just bought a snazzy new fit? He’ll carry you 🏋️‍♂️

somebody bothering you loveliest? He’s already kicked them to Australia (extra hard if it was Zoro)

Dating Sanji includes good communication.

If you feel anything but a positive emotion Sanji is on the case. And the first victim he’s pointing fingers at is Zoro 😼

”MOSS HEAD BASTARD!! YOU MADE THEM UPSET DIDNT YOU?!”

it’s not a person darling? Well what happened? What can he do to help? Did you loose something? He’ll turn into a mad man causing chaos around town looking for it! Did it drop into the ocean? He swims as deep as he needs to in order to find it.

Honestly he even babies you about little stuff :P you stubbed your toe? Want him to massage it for you? That’s it! He’s breaking out the foot spa! Take off your socks and shoes!

he did something that really upset you?! Tell him what it is right away! He’ll make sure he never steps outta line ever again! He *kiss* never *kiss* meant *kiss* to *kiss* upset *kiss* you *kiss*~

Never feel hesitation to tell him if something’s wrong with you physically “Chopper! Come check them out right now!! They say somethings’ wrong!”

Nor mentally! You’ve been going through some tough times these last few months?! Sit down and tell him everything!! Let’s get to the root of this! Together! Is it someone else?? Did it happen from something??

Even if you aren’t feeling negative emotions right now always feel free to rant to him about what’s making you happy! he’d love to hear it truly! He loves your voice even more~ 🥰 *nose bleed*

Dating Sanji includes 5 star meals.

another thing we all know. And in every headcanon- but seriously what’s all your favorite meals, snacks and desserts? Even if Luffy himself says to make one thing he might make another just because he knows you like it. That guy eats anything anyway so he might as well just make what you like! 🧑‍🍳

Dating Sanji includes overly cheesy confessions despite the fact that your already and only dating.

”My dearest..I would love if you would go out with me and make this evening the loveliest of my days! I’d wholeheartedly accept and put my all into cooking for our first date….My love and affection with herb and spice…the flavor of our intense compatibility will melt on your tongue every bite you take! Guaranteed!”

”Sanji….we’ve been dating for xyz months/years now..”

”ahhh~ Even to the blossoms of this beautiful spring day know we’re simply destined to be..! Getting married tomorrow..it’s been my dream since we’ve first met! I can see it already, smell it even..! The enchanting scene of you walking down the isle, putting your hands in mine…kiss! The happiest day of my life has officially been sealed! Everyone’s clapping! Cheering! Whoop woo’s arise in the air of our love!~ The 6 layer cake I spent every ounce of my time baking since I met you, on the side of us—predicting our perfect wedding kiss! An exact model of the scene~ It brings a tear to my eye! I hope I don’t keep you up tonight, my darling love! Because I certainly won’t be able to sleep when I’m much too busy imagining the scene over and over again until our big day tomorrow, the same one I’ve been replaying in my head since I first laid eyes on you~ 😚”

”what on EARTH Sanji. We’re only dating! Wha- What do I even say to this?!”

”you could say yes! My lovely future spouse!~ 😍😍”

”To what! You haven’t even properly proposed to me yet?! Let alone made it official⁉️“

”ohh my honey! I didn’t know you wanted to get married- the wind! The sea! The birds even know our fate! We-“

”ALRIGHT!”

”SHUT IT SEAWEED HEAD!! DON’T INTERUPT ME WHILE IM CONFESSING MY LOVE to the most wonderful soul to have ever lived~”

⚔️🗡🔥💥💥💥⚔️🗡🔥💥⚔️🗡💥💥🔥

(Sanji and zoro fighting :3)

Dating Sanji includes sure fire protection.

no one will ever lay a hand on you. For a man? Self explanatory. Blast that motha sucka to space.💥 For a woman?? Welll…he’ll take all the hits for you okay?! So run away and go get Nami or Robin!! Hurry darling!

Dating Sanji includes trust.

more than anything he trusts you with his deepest darkest secrets. There’s no front when it’s just you two around, purely him. Not telling you his lineage was because he wanted to put that behind him..it wasn’t supposed to come back up. And man is he the most sorry sucker on earth when he betrays the strawhats. Because that means he’s betraying you. Pleasepleasepleasetakehimbackplease.

Uh guys I ran out of characters I’m gonna do a part two I guess 😭… I didn’t want to thooo

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literaila · 2 months

Text

it's not my fault

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: tsumiki and megumi get into an argument

warnings: sibling stuff, fluff, two oblivious (stupid) parents

last part | next part

year five.

“couldn’t you say something nice?” tsumiki is asking megumi when you walk in. “she just wanted to—“

you set your bag on the table, just barely able to make out their words.

they were... quiet in the car, you realize suddenly. but you hadn't thought that anything was wrong. megumi's typically burnt out after school, and tsumiki waits until you all get home to start telling you about her day.

but it only took a minute of you running back out to the car to grab something for it all to fall apart.

megumi groans. “i don’t even know her.”

you round the corner, just stopping there so you can observe. neither of them seem to notice you, or your wide eyes at both of their stances. the matching scowls on their faces.

they look so similar that it shocks you just briefly.

tsumiki has her arms crossed, shaking her head. “you still don’t need to be mean about it.”

“i wasn’t mean.”

“yes, you were. you told her to leave you alone.”

“that seems like a pretty straightforward request.”

“everyone at school thinks you’re mean,” tsumiki is pouting, looking dishearted at his reaction. typically, megumi will agree with her just for the sake of it. “and i always have to defend you, even if it’s true.”

megumi sighs, shrugging. he's got his satoru-type scowl on, and even though he looks disinterested--as usual--you can see it when his frown deepens, and he shifts away from tsumiki. “well, stop then. i don’t need you to come to my rescue. i don’t care what people say.”

“well, i do! you’re my brother.”

“that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like your responsibility. i can handle myself.”

“you’re always alone at school,” tsumiki disputes, almost whining at him. “if you were nicer—“

“i’ve never complained—“

“okay,” you turn the corner, brows already raised. “there’s a lot of raised voices going on. you two are going to wake up the neighbor's cat.”

tsumiki is pouting at megumi and he just rolls his eyes. both children stand facing each other, standoffish in the living room, arms crossed.

usually, they fight about what movie to watch, or who got to sit in the front seat last.

but those fights don’t typically involve yelling.

sure, they’re both sensitive about their childhood. about living here and being with you and satoru. they'll bicker about being little, megumi hating it when tsumiki mentions either of their biological parents, and tsumiki hating it when he refuses to listen.

but even then, tsumiki goes to hide, and megumi just shuts down.

this seems… different.

a part of you rationalizes that they're both exhausted from school and getting to that age where their priorities differ.

you don't have any siblings, but you quarreled enough with nanami and haibara back at school to know how these types of arguments work.

and unless one of them admits that they're wrong, it's never going to end.

with that thought in mind, you put on a learned smile, standing between the two of them so you can look back and forth between the two children, observing both of their very closed-off body language.

it's a little cute, honestly. they both look very different, but their matching stances and glares are worth much more than biology. you almost want to stop them to take a picture.

satoru would do it if he was here.

“tough crowd,” you say, feeling the tension between the two. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” they both say, at the same time, but megumi with an attitude and tsumiki with a sniffle.

really, you should find a book about expressing emotions. you and satoru are teaching them far too much about denial and avoidance.

you make a mental note to look it up later.

you blow out a breath. “yeah, well, i heard the yelling, but i’m missing some context."

you look between the two of them, but they’re not looking back. both sets of eyes are focused on each other, identical glares bouncing off of each other. they could be communicating in some secret language and you would have no idea.

in fact, you can basically see the thoughts they're forcing towards each other on their faces.

“hey,” you poke them both on the forehead at the same time, trying to get their attention on you. “talk to me. what happened?”

they both remain still as statues for a moment, not bothering to consider the question.

but after a moment, tsumiki blinks, and her frown increases, which makes megumi roll his eyes--like he already knows what she's going to say, and doesn't care.

“megumi was mean to a girl at school,” tsumiki says, finally looking at you with big doe eyes. her face is pained, confused, and worried.

and honestly, she could ask you for anything with that look and you'd give it to her.

but megumi sighs. “i wasn’t mean.”

“you told her not to talk to you!”

he looks to you, less pleading but confident. “if i want space, shouldn’t i tell someone that? isn't that what you say?”

you open your mouth. “well, it depends, megs, you can’t—“

“you’re always mean,” tsumiki’s eyes are filling with tears. she looks at you too. and usually, she would apologize for interrupting, but not right now. “nobody at school wants to be around him. he scares everyone, and they don’t believe me when i say that he’s nice.”

“tsumiki," you begin, face softening, "you shouldn’t—“

“that doesn’t make me mean. why would i want to hang out with people who don’t like me?”

you turn, “megumi—“

“they would like you if you weren’t always saying mean things!” tsumiki tells him, her sweet voice rough with frustration. the tears begin to slip from her eyes.

and you can feel it when megumi moves another inch away, wanting to flinch back from her sadness the same way you do.

“i don’t want them to like me,” megumi corrects, shaking it off. “i don’t care what they think.”

tsumiki frowns even deeper, eyes growing wide. “what about what i think?” she asks him.

“are you going to stop hanging out with me?”

“maybe.”

“how? we literally live in the same house. your room is down the hall from mine.”

“guys—“

“i’ll ask dad to move rooms. he won’t mind.”

“oh, sure. because you’ll be able to avoid me at the dinner table—“

“why are you always—“

“guys.”

they both look to you, glares immensely misplaced. their mouths are still open, ready to interrupt each other at a moment's notice.

you look between them, finding matching pictures on either side. clearly, they're both upset about something different. and still, you don't really understand, but it doesn't seem like they're going to explain anything further.

why would they when they can just keep arguing?

you purse your lips, closing your eyes for a moment, trying not to laugh.

really, if they wanted you to take them seriously they shouldn’t have grown up to be so cute. they shouldn't look like that.

harsh, angry breaths fill the room as the two of them wait for your instruction. you should probably be able to fix this problem immediately--you could by sending them both to their rooms and forcing them apart--but you'd rather talk this through.

plus you don't want either of them to think too hard about any of it. you hate it when you fight with satoru and take a break, just to linger in that anger like a quicksand you can’t pull out of.

“okay,” you say, once there’s a moment of silence. “i know you’re both upset.”

“i’m not—“ you look at megumi and he stops, little frown on his little face. his cheeks are red in indignation, and he's got clenched fists. you can tell that he wants to say something, maybe to you, maybe to tsumiki, but he won't.

you ruffle his hair. “it’s fine to be upset with each other,” you tell him, looking to tsumiki, her face entirely sad. “but going back and forth isn’t going to solve the problem, okay? and neither is saying anything just to hurt each other's feelings.”

“but he just—“ you shake your head, wishing with everything in you that you could go get one of satoru’s blindfolds right now.

it physically hurts to look at them, they're so precious.

you are a terrible mother for finding this moment slightly amusing. to be fair, you spend far too much time with satoru, and deflection is a family trait.

you finger tsumiki’s hair, pushing it from her eyes. “should we take a break?” you ask them both. “or do you want to talk about it now?”

“break,” megumi says, immediately.

“talk about it now,” tsumiki answers, at the same time.

for two people who are so alike, they sure think differently. you want to smile at the very predictable answers but refrain.

“okay…” you pause, thinking. “tsumiki, why don’t you tell us why you’re upset? megumi will do the same, and then we can take a break, or keep going.”

they both glare at each other.

“and nothing mean," you add because it feels necessary.

tsumiki sniffs. “everyone at school says that you’re cruel,” she tells him, a devastating pout on her face. “and i don’t like that. you’re my brother, and i want people to like you like i do.”

you both look at megumi, waiting.

he's silent for a moment, processing his sister's words, but then he’s got a scowl on his face. “i don’t care what they think, they’re all stupid anyway—“

“megumi.”

he looks at you, pleading blue eyes. you can see that tsumiki got under his skin, but you shake your head.

“see?” tsumiki complains, voice high-pitched. “he’s always—“

you wipe away a tear, nodding. “i know, sweetie, but it’s his turn. you can go next.”

you turn to megumi, wanting to laugh at his annoyed face. “don’t call your classmates names," you say, giving him a look. "it's your turn. tell tsumiki why you’re upset, megumi.”

he sighs again, looking towards the floor. he kicks at the hardwood, shaking his head. “i don’t like it when you baby me. i don’t need you to defend me, or try and take care of me at school. i’m fine.”

tsumiki swallows, not saying anything.

you look between the two of them, trying to read the complex emotions of your almost-teenagers. unfortunately, they're closed off from you, and you can only guess.

both of your hands rest on one of their shoulders, squeezing. “do you both want to answer? or should we sit down for a bit? i can make a snack or something. it might be good to cool off."

you say it mostly for yourself, because, honestly, any second you're going to break.

the two children look at each other, communicating telepathically, and then they nod.

“you should treat everyone respectfully,” tsumiki says, as an answer. “even if you don’t care what they think, you should still be nice.”

megumi frowns. “if i don’t want to talk to someone, i shouldn’t have to.”

“but you just told her to go away. she probably feels bad now, and—“

“i don’t even know her," megumi interrupts, brows furrowing.

okay, so maybe you should've separated them a couple of minutes ago.

“chiyo's my friend!”

megumi rolls his eyes. “just because she’s your friend doesn’t mean she has to be mine.”

“but you were mean.”

you look between the two of them, megumi annoyed and tsumiki frustrated.

“okay, kids.” you breathe out, wishing you had a brother to fight with, just so you knew what it felt like. just so you could be a part of this argument. “i know you’re both mad, and you disagree. that’s fine. let’s take some space, breathe, maybe i can—“

“just because you think i was being mean doesn’t mean that i was," megumi blurts out, like he can't hold it in.

you pause, mouth opening. you're about to say something, but you don't get the chance.

“if everyone doesn’t like you,” tsumiki argues, “then it’s because you’re mean.”

“maybe they just suck.”

“they don’t suck. this is—“

and then it all breaks down.

“well well,” satoru peeks his head around the corner, white hair a shock to all three of you. “look who’s falling apart without me.”

you sigh immediately, a hand against your temple. of course he would come in at the worst moment possible. “satoru, please go back out the door. i'm sure you forgot something at the store."

the two kids look at satoru, neither one of them happy to see him. there's a similar fire in their eyes, and you know that if he hadn't shown up they would've continued arguing until you pulled them apart.

he walks over to you, slinging an arm across your shoulder. his grin is far too self-satisfactory. "what'd you do?" he asks, tapping you.

"i didn't do anything," you tell him, "leave them alone. they're working it out."

"by yelling at each other?"

you push his arm off of you, glaring. "you just walked in at a bad moment--"

you say something else, telling him to get out again, and satoru laughs back at you, asking if you missed him, and neither of you seems to realize that the two kids are just staring at you.

megumi and tsumiki share a look, like this is a typical occurrence (it is), then shake their heads at the same time, like an echo of each other.

their faces have cooled, scowls fading as you and satoru bicker.

tsumiki sighs and megumi scratches the back of his neck, and for a moment, they both avoid each other's eyes.

but eventually, you and satoru look back at them.

"i don't want to talk anymore," megumi tells all of you, beginning to walk away. satoru tries to grab the back of his shirt to keep him in place, but megumi just shrugs him off.

and then he walks down the hallway to his room and closes the door gently, clearly no longer bothered by anything tsumiki said. or maybe too bothered.

but, you think, at least he didn't slam the door.

you can recall yourself telling satoru to give him space, to let megumi deal with his emotions as he pleases before you force him back into the spotlight, to apologize or hug tsumiki, or...

you blink and look back at her. she's still got a small pout on her face, but her eyes have relaxed, as red-rimmed as they are. you know, and tsumiki knows, that she's really just worried about him. trying to protect him in her own, sisterly way.

and, really, there's not much you can teach her about that.

so you just smile gently at tsumiki, wiping away some moisture from her face. "just give him a bit, hmm? let him think."

she sighs but relaxes into your hand for a moment, her shoulders slouching as she gives into defeat. and then tsumiki shrugs at you, agreeing despite herself, and walks over to satoru to give him half of a hug.

it's not a moment later that she follows megumi and walks down the hall, escaping to her room. you both listen as her door closes.

"wow," satoru whispers, shaking his head. "you did a number on them."

"they had a fight about school," you say, nudging him. "i had no part in any of it. i just walked in."

he wraps two arms around the back of your neck, smiling eagerly at you. "so what you're saying is, it isn't your fault?"

he's mocking himself, and the reoccurring events that happen when you leave him in charge. which you've sworn to never do again, by the way.

you scoff. "when i get home you've started all the problems," you tell him, shaking your head. "they're fighting because you instigated something."

"we're communicating."

"whatever."

satoru quirks a brow at you, eyes just barely visible behind his glasses. "the parenting books aren't doing much for you, are they?" he asks, rhetorically.

"you realize i caught you with those in your room multiple times right? i know you read them."

"you'll never prove it," he says, smiling maliciously.

"and neither will your parenting skills."

satoru snorts, nudging his nose against yours in an odious way. "clearly, you guys can't last a day without me."

"it wasn't a day," you argue, shivering at his touch. "more like an hour. you just went to the store..." you pause, tilting your head at him. "and where are the groceries, by the way?"

satoru looks away, hands tapping on the back of your neck, humming innocently. "oh, i might've... slightly misplaced those."

"satoru."

"i got distracted--but it's not my fault. there's a new kakigori shop down the block."

you look at him blandly.

satoru, because he cannot be trusted, smiles sweetly at you as he places a peck on your lips, as a sort of apology.

obviously, you don't return it. not even in the slightest.

satoru hums as he pulls back, already knowing that he's won. "so, i'll just get dinner..." he says, grinning at you.

you roll your eyes but wrap your hands around his neck, letting a little smile fall across your face.

you and satoru are sitting on the couch when you see megumi creeping down the hall, on his tiptoes, purposefully not looking at the two of you.

it's been an hour or two, the silence echoing across the house almost a bad omen.

but you decided not to bother either of them. considering the fact that you still don't know why they were really fighting, or why they didn't just talk about it like they usually would, it seemed like the best option.

and also, satoru shouldn't be involved in any conflict resolution. he'd probably suggest wrestling it out in the backyard.

still, as you watch him pass by, you lean away from satoru, your legs completely tangled in his. you stretch your neck to watch him, relying on satoru's hand around your waist to keep you steady, but he's too far down the hall for you to see where he's going.

but a moment later, you hear him knock on a door, and then a small, quiet voice telling him to come in.

you relax back against satoru, already grinning proudly. "see? i fixed it."

satoru laughs, his breath soft against your temple. "you didn't do anything. megumi just felt guilty."

"well, i taught him that."

satoru noses the side of your head. "mmm, i'm pretty sure i did."

"of course you didn't."

he shakes you a little, as a punishment for your words, but sighs. "what were they fighting about anyway?"

"megumi was mean to one of tsumiki's friends, i think. i missed... pretty much all of it."

"who?"

you frown. "chiyo?"

satoru snorts a little, and you shift to look at him, raising your brow. "megumi mentioned her."

you turn even more, eyes wide. you poke his cheek with a finger, and then wave for him to continue.

satoru groans, fingers trailing through your hair. "he said that he overheard some girls talking about 'miki."

"behind her back?"

satoru smiles, a bit sadly, nodding.

"oh."

"yeah, oh."

you frown. “what did they say?”

satoru licks his lips, watching your eyes as you concentrate on him. “dunno. megumi wouldn’t tell me.”

you roll your eyes. “of course not,” you say, sighing. “and he didn’t tell her?”

satoru winces. "okay, so… maybe i told him not to,” he whispers, like a confession, voice going a bit high at the end. and then he laughs at your annoyed expression. "what? i didn't want her to get sad."

you shake your head at him, tsking.

you could scold him for protecting tsumiki, but you know that you probably would've done the same.

so you just turn back towards the hallway, resting your head against his shoulder. after a moment, satoru nuzzles himself into your neck, humming against your skin.

it's a very unpleasant feeling.

"do you think i should go get them for dinner?" you ask him, quietly.

"nah," he kisses the side of your neck, looking down the hall with you. "give them a little while."

and it's about twenty minutes later that the two siblings walk back into the living room, megumi's lip quirked at tsumiki, and tsumiki beaming back.

after all, you and satoru have taught them well.

next part | series masterlist

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sweetsreverie · 10 months

Note

could you write a drabble where darry’s girlfriend is totally adored by the rest of the boys and she’s almost motherly to them?

bro... thank you for planting this idea in my head ♡︎

pairing: darry curtis x f!reader wc: 972 warnings/notes: none

You met Darry six months ago while you were at the grocery store. You were clearly having trouble trying to reach something on the top shelf and he offered to help you, retrieving the item and handing it to you with a charming, kind smile. The two of you ended up talking in the spice aisle for nearly ten minutes before you both realized that you had places to be. Darry had scribbled his home phone number on your grocery list before leaving. Since then, you mostly saw him on the weekends when he wasn’t working, or on the rare occasion that he wasn’t totally exhausted after work, you would see him for dinner.

It took a while for him to introduce you to his brothers, and eventually the rest of their little gang. But when he did, he came to notice that the boys treated you differently than anyone else. They seemed to respect you, and they didn’t really pick on you or mess with you like they did other people. That was also partially because you seemed to take care of them, and honestly you didn’t even think much of it. You just found yourself doing little things for them here and there. It started with you cleaning up Darry’s work boots one night, and then you ironed Sodapop’s work shirt one day while he was running late for work, and you’ve helped Ponyboy with his homework on multiple occasions when he was struggling through his math homework.

It made Darry’s heart swell, especially when you took care of Ponyboy and Soda. Ever since their mom died, they haven’t had a female, or even somewhat of a motherly figure in their life. Darry could be tough on them, so having your gentle nature around was almost comforting for them.

Today you had the day off of work so you spent some time at the Curtis’ house. Darry was working so you tried to clean up the place to take it off of his shoulders. Besides, you sometimes spent the night with Darry and ate dinner with them, so you figure you might as well pull your own weight and treat the place as your own.

“You know Y/N, this ain’t even your house. You don’t have to clean up after us.” Pony says while he sits on the couch and Johnny sits on the floor near the coffee table, and the two of them were playing ‘go fish’.

“Well- I stay here enough and eat enough of yall’s food, I might as well. And I don’t want Darry to have to worry about it when he gets back from work.” You explain as you wipe down the kitchen table with a damp cloth.

Ponyboy smiles softly at that before he looks down at the cards in his hand. “Well… I know that Darry really appreciates it. He probably don’t show it or say it, but… I know he does.” Pony tells you with a little nod.

“I just know he’s got a lot on his plate, and I don’t see you boys helping him clean up much.” You say, the teasing tone clear in your voice while you grin over at Pony. Pony’s expression turns sheepish immediately, and Johnny even chuckles at your playful scolding.

Later that evening when Darry comes home, you stand in the kitchen with him while you two wait for dinner to finish cooking. After a few moments, Darry turns to you as you’re leaning against the counter.

“You know, Ponyboy told me you scolded him like a mother today.” Darry says, and you groan and shake your head.

“I did not! I was just messing with him-” You insist, and Darry laughs.

“He knows that, doll face. I just… think it’s funny. You really do take care of us.” Darry says with a little smile while he reaches for your hand.

You think about it for a second, and you realize that you really do take care of these boys.

“Well… you’re my boys. And someone’s gotta keep some order around here.” You tell Darry with a grin. You hear the front door open, and you poke your head out from around the doorway to see Sodapop and Steve.

“Aht aht, don’t bring them dirty boots in the house. Leave ‘em on the porch.” You tell the two of them, and Ponyboy laughs as they turn back around and begin to take their boots off on the porch.

When you turn back to Darry in the kitchen, the man is just grinning from ear to ear.

“What were you saying about keeping order around here?” He asks jokingly and you can’t help but laugh.

“Hell, even Dally listens to you. You must have instilled some kinda fear in him or something.”

You laugh at that and shake your head, and you move closer to Darry so you’re tucked in his side.

“But… really. Ever since our folks passed, Pony and Soda haven’t really had… a woman to care for them, or like.. A mother figure. If you know what I mean.” Darry tries to explain, and you nod while giving him a little smile.

“I understand, Darry. Really- and… I’m happy to be that for them. I know I can never replace your mom, and I don’t want to- but… I’m happy to look after them. I know it's hard for you to do on your own.” You explain to Darry, and he lets out a quiet sigh while he looks down at you with an expression of admiration.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Darry asks, and you laugh softly.

“Yeah. Once or twice I think.” You tease him lightly before the two of you carry on with making dinner before the boys in the living room start getting too rowdy.

#the outsiders imagine #the outsiders one shot #the outsiders oneshot #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis x reader

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 11 months

Text

A kiss amidst the bookshelves

pairing: Remus x reader

word count: 2k

tags / description: friends to lovers, first kiss, steamy kiss, bookish Remus and reader, best friend Sirius, friendship fluff, romance fluff, gn

“You look like you’re about to murder him,” Sirius snarks, falling into the sofa next to you amidst the noise of the party surrounding you, following your gaze across the room.

“I…” you begin your routine protesting but give it up. He raises an eyebrow expectantly, surprised.

“You…?”

An exasperated sigh, then, “I… it… ugh,” you drop your face into your palms and speak into them, “Murder would simplify things.” Sirius barks a laugh in response.

“Do you want an accomplice in offing our best mate?” His smile is conspiratorial, but there’s something in his eyes behind his typical teasing tone.

“Would you mind? I don’t know if I can go through with it,” you joke seriously. “If you do the killing part, I promise I’ll help hide the body.” Sirius, smiling but knowing, pulls you into him, his arm around your shoulders, your head coming to rest on him.

“To be fair, that would probably be the more difficult part,” he continues, and he feels your chuckle against his chest. “I know I can take him, but our Moony is pretty tall; it might pose a problem when we have to move him after.”

An affirmative “hm” is all you offer in response, basking in his warm comfort silently for a moment.

“Or…” he cuts the quiet. “And hear me out here, love. I know homicide will seem the more appealing option initially… but you could, you know, tell him how you feel.”

“Murder. I choose murder,” you deadpan.

“Y/NNN,” he whines with the tinge of a scold.

“Siriusss,” you mimic childishly.

He sighs and says, “Darling, I know it’s scary,” he squeezes you, “but your miserable pining is seriously starting to bum me out. I don’t know how much more I can take honestly.” You pull away from him and shove his shoulder as he chuckles. “Alright, alright, sorry. I suppose I’m slightly concerned for your happiness as well.” The energy between you shifts palpably. You don’t get this side of Sirius much, and the gravity of it shakes you.

“I can’t,” you whisper, looking down.

“You can,” he responds immediately, gently pushing your chin up, his thumb stroking your jaw.

“Everything alright?” a third voice, achingly familiar, startles you. You rush to wipe the ghosts of tears before turning to where he’s taking a seat on the arm of the sofa, looking down at you and Sirius.

“All good, mate,” Sirius answers before you have to, and you grin gratefully at him.

“Sure?” Remus checks, looking straight at you, feigning levity.

“Yeah, ‘course,” you say lightly. “How’s Mary doing?” you ask, nodding to where he had just been chatting enthusiastically to her across the room. You’d always suspected they’d had feelings for each other back in your school days. “Good, good,” he nods. “We were just catching up, hadn’t seen her in a while. I might show her the shop next week actually. Think she’ll enjoy it.” You stomach sinks at this. “Oh yeah?” you hear the strain in your voice, your efforts at hiding your dismay clearly failing. So you quickly add, “That’s great, Rem. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Remus — the Remus that can read you like a children’s book — squints his eyes a bit at you, confused by your tension, probably still pondering the moment he interrupted between you and Sirius.

The shop. Your shop. Your favourite place on Earth. A place you thought of as yours and his. I mean, it was, technically, but you know. You’d opened the bookshop together about a year ago now, and business was tough but picking up. Though you weren’t making much money (yet, hopefully), you and Remus were the happiest you’d been in years, finally doing something both of you found joy in, and together no less.

“Speaking of,” you start, stretching. “I have some work I wanted to finish, so I think I’m going to get going.” “Now?” he asks in disbelief. “It’s late, love. I don’t remember there being anything urgent?”

“No, I know; it’s not.” You get up a bit awkwardly. Standing in front of where he’s perched on the sofa, you’ve gone from looking up at him to down. He really is beautiful from any angle, you think to yourself. You realize you’re staring; you don’t know how strangely, but you see he’s looking expectantly at you, curiousity gleaming in his deep brown eyes. “Urgent, I mean,” you stutter out. “It’s just that inventory I’ve been trying to finish up.”

“You can do that tomorrow,” he tries. “I’ll help.” “No, it’s alright, Rem, really. I just feel like it now.” You smile a strained smile with fake ease but real warmth. Then, shaking off the heaviness of the moment, you give him a quick hug, turn to give Sirius a quick peck on the cheek goodbye, and head out.

You like the shop at night, when it’s empty and quiet. Well, sometimes it’s empty during the day as well, to be honest, but there’s something about the night and the blanket the darkness provides. You especially like it when Remus is there with you, but it’s nice when you’re alone too. Just you and the books and the sense that the shelves that envelop you hold endless possibilities and infinite feelings you can just melt into.

You walk down the cramped aisles for a few minutes, your eyes and your fingertips tracing the titles. When you stumble on a comforting favourite, you pull it down, and nestle into one of the two inviting armchairs you and Remus had set up in a cosy corner of the small space.

If it were any other activity, you would have been shocked at how quickly you were immersed, leaving the heaviness of your love and your worries in the real world to be picked up again on your way out. You are shocked, however, when, as you flip a page, a low voice says, “Hard at work I see.”

You jump, dropping the book, and screech, “Fucking hell, Remus! What the fuck? You scared the shit out of me.” He’s laughing like he can’t help himself as he kneels down in front of you to pick up the book, holding it in one hand and holding the other up in a gesture of guilty surrender. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he chuckles. “It’s not like I was quiet coming in.”

“Well, I didn’t hear you,” you shoot angrily. “Clearly.” He’s grinning as he offers you the book. “Good choice,” he adds, giving it a little shake.

“Yeah, well, it’s comforting every time.” Your tone is easier now but still a little edgy as you grab the book and place it on the little table beside you.

“Hm.” He sounds serious; it makes you turn to him instinctively; you look into his concerned eyes. “And why did you need comforting this time?” His voice is a syrupy whisper, and his question makes time stand still.

Because I love you too much, you idiot, you think but don’t say. “I’m fine,” you do say.

“You’re not,” he responds. You look away.

“I’m fine enough.”

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” he pleads, putting his hand on your knee. “You’ve been weird all night.” “Don’t deny it,” he adds when you open your mouth to say something immediately. It’s not harsh. You close your mouth again, but don’t know what to say instead.

“Did something happen?” he prods after several moments. You stay silent, but tears well in your eyes, transfixed on his. He whispers your name lovingly and brings his other hand to your cheek, stroking gently. You nod before you can think yourself out of it. “I messed up, Rem,” you whisper. “When?” he asks, all kindness. After a mirthless chuckle you say, “Around when we were twelve I think. Maybe even eleven.” His thumb stops its comforting motion in his confusion; his eyebrows are furrowed; one side of his mouth seems conflicted about whether to laugh or not. “I don’t understand,” he says finally.

“It’s your fault, really,” you half-laugh, wiping your eyes. “What?” He tenses and pulls away from you, concern elevated to fear in his eyes and voice.

“I didn’t mean,” you start, leaning forward and grabbing his hands in yours. “That’s not what I meant.” Your voice is still tinged in a cynical snicker, but he’s clearly not amused.

“What did you mean then?” It’s sharper, and it hurts.

“I…” Another chuckle. “Y/N,” losing patience.

“Fuck, this is hard.” You take your hands back and cover your face with them, kneading in frustration. A beat. He says your name again, just as firm but much more gentle, and reaches for your hands, holding them again. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I thought you knew that. We can work through anything, together… but you have to talk to me. Did I do something?”

You look back and forth between his eyes, hear Sirius’s voice in your head: “you can,” and take a deep breath.

“You can tell me,” he repeats, and you believe him… but can’t bring yourself to it.

“I can’t,” you whisper, and you hate the familiar sound of it in your ears. You see his posture sink in defeat, but he doesn’t let go of your hands.

“Can I show you instead?” you ask, terrified of what came next, but more terrified of never finding out. He nods eagerly and goes to stand up, but you squeeze his hands tighter and hold him in place. He settles back down where he’s knelt in front of you, staring at you intently. You shift to the edge of the chair, quite close to him now. One of your hands releases his and comes up toward his face. You hear him gasp as you run your fingertips along his cheekbone then along a prominent scar there. You keep going and run your fingers through his hair then let your hand rest there, on the back of his head among his soft brown curls. You look down at his lips. Your gaze lingers there, making your intention obvious as you move even closer to him. He’s stock-still as you approach, but when your nose touches his, he lunges hungrily forward to meet you.

He moans into your mouth as his arms wrap tightly around your waist, and yours comes up around his shoulders. Your chests are flush now, your legs open wider to accommodate his kneeling form in between them, leaning into you completely, devouring you. His lips work against yours, exploring; his hands, intent but indecisive, travel from pulling you close to holding your face firmly against his, his thumbs lovingly pushing into your jaw, his fingers wrapped in your hair. You immediately fall into a rhythm, opening your mouths to each other. He tastes like chocolate, and you giggle at the realization. Remus instinctively smiles at the sound of your laughter and the slight withdrawal from your mouth gives him the opportunity to trail away from your lips, slowly along your jaw, down to your neck, licking and lingering. You bare your neck to him, your breathing coming more heavily now, your grasp on him tighter. You grip his hair and croon his name, and he moans loudly. He gives your neck a final, wet kiss and pulls back to look at you.

His eyes are dark and lidded; his lips swollen and moist; his hair is messy, and the look on his face is one you’ve never seen before. He looks giddy and lustful simultaneously. Pulling your face to his with a hand at your nape, he rests his forehead against yours and gives you a hungry kiss, fast but firm. He chuckles.

“I still don’t understand.” “What?” you smile.

“How is this a problem?” His thumb is caressing you; his smile is beaming.

“I didn’t know if you felt it too,” you confess.

A teasing tsk then, “Quite daft for the cleverest person I know.” He brings your mouth to his again.

smutty pt. 2!

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauder x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin fluff #sirius black #friends to lovers #first kiss #reader insert #x reader #x y/n

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causeilikelix · 5 months

Note

new to the blog but abt those felix throughts 😍😍 felix whos so tired of the members calling him innocent and babying him. yea its nice from time to time but hes a grown man ! so he goes 100% hard dom on you just so your moans can be heard in the dorm 🫣 also he would totally cover you in bite marks and hickeys just so he can get his point across to his group 💕

now THAT's what I'm taking about skhsfdlkfjsdlkfj

Like we all know that Felix is a lil guy with too much love in his body but soft =/= sub. He's a man very comfortable in his identity and the power he holds over you. Felix just wants to make his baby feel good but he also wants to prove a point...

Smut and warnings below the cut. MINORS DNI!!!!!!

↳ Words - 2.7k (and some change)

↳Warnings: SMUT duh, Soft!Dom Felix (I'm still getting used to writing Hard!Dom anyone) and a tough of Hard!Dom Lix at the end, afab!reader, relatively vanilla, fingering (f receiving), P in V, unprotected sex (don't), multiple orgasms, exhibitionism?, hickeys

You loved his innocent vibe! You really did! His angelic smile and his sweet words and actions is what drew you to him in the first place. He was nothing but romantic and sweet all the time. The best communicator, respectful of your boundaries, always treated you like a princess. Honestly everyone needs their own personal Felix!!

But he’s tired. He can’t help it. All of his friends baby him so much! Like Changbin said himself, Felix is happiness personified! But enough is enough. His sweet exterior is giving him a reputation he doesn’t want. When his friends talk about their sex lives, they always make these jokes that Felix must be a little pillow prince who takes what he’s given and lets his partner take the lead. In fact, his friends bet, he’s as innocent as can be and maybe you and him don’t even have sex at all!

He’s still grumbly about it when you get to the dorm one night, just to spend a little time together in between schedules. He greets you with his normal warm hug and a sweet peck but you can sense something is off.

Initially you stay in the living room to continue watching the movie the other guys are watching. It’s some action film you couldn’t give two shits about. Your legs are swung over Felix’s lap and he’s gently massaging your calves and thighs while he stares at the screen. You can hear a few of the other guys snickering but you can’t make out what they’re saying. When you glance at Felix, his eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is set. Honestly it’s kind of hot and makes heat pool between your legs. Let’s be honest though…. It’s Felix. Almost everything he does can get you wet.

The boys laugh again and you note that it’s during a not particularly funny part of the movie. This is where Felix breaks. He pushes your legs off him and grabs your hand.

“Come on, babe, this isn’t very interesting. Let’s go to my room.” Felix whispered to you, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

Your body immediately went hot and you had a feeling you knew what was on his mind. He dragged you to his room and tossed the door shut behind him.

His hands were cupping your face and pulling you into a deep kiss before the latch had fully closed. You could simply melt into his kisses. They always were deep and full of every ounce of love in his body. Tonight, however, his lips were urgent and demanding.

“I need you baby, please.” He whispered against your mouth. The need to show his friends that he wasn’t a little boy anymore coursed through him, but he would stop if you gave the word.

“Lix, I need you too.” You managed out between kisses, “But what about the guys? They’re right outside and-”

“Remember what we talked about last month?” Felix kissed down your neck and pushed you back towards the bed.

How could you forget? Most of the time you and Felix had sex it was very mutual. You didn’t do a whole lot of powerplay. Maybe a sprinkling here and there when the situation was right, but Felix loved it when sex was a mutual expression of love. A few weeks ago he asked you about exploring power play a little more and maybe experimenting with some kinks. One of them was being listened to. Not necessarily the real thing, but pretending like someone could walk in on you at any moment.

With the boys right down the hall, that one held more risk than normal.

“You wanna try it?” You asked. The back of your knees caught on the edge of the bed and you sat down. Felix weaved his fingers through your hair and bent down to kiss you. You parted your knees instinctively and Felix settled between them.

With him above you like this, you felt small under him. The thrill it gave you made your heart speed up. You gripped his slim waist to pull him closer.

“I want them to hear you while I fuck you dumb,” Felix’s voice dropped and octave. It sent a shiver down your spine. You always loved it when he got like this. When he got too horny, his voice dropped and it made you wet in an instant.

Felix’s hands made quick work of your clothes. He wasted no time in getting you naked, leaving your top and jeans in a pile on the floor. Even though you hadn’t expected to have sex on this visit, you still wore one of your cuter underwear sets. Baby pink with a little bit of lace at the top of the cups of the bra and the top of the panties, made even more innocent by a tiny rose in the center of both pieces.

Felix swallowed thickly at the sight.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” Felix whispered. He maneuvered you onto the bed and hovered over you. You clawed at his shirt, urging him to take it off. He smirked and tugged it off. “Just say the word and I’ll stop, okay? Until then you're going to let me do whatever I want with you, right baby?”

“Yes, baby.” You nodded in understanding.

You groaned at the sight of his chiseled chest. Those gorgeous, defined ab muscles and his perfect little pink nipples made your mouth water. Everything about him was beautiful from his head to his toes. Not to mention his cock. Speaking of, you wanted to see it immediately. You tried to reach for his pants but he grabbed your wrists and shoved you back against the bed.

“No touching without permission, got it baby?” He cooed, “I wouldn’t want to have to punish you. I bet you’re already wet, aren’t you? It doesn’t take much to get my baby worked up.”

Felix slipped his hand into your underwear and seemed unfazed by the amount of slick in your panties. To be honest, you thought that there should have been more. The sudden show of power had your cunt gushing and clenching around nothing and you needed him inside you, um, yesterday.

“Felix, please!” You cried, pushing your hips up into his hand. His digits rubbed small, slow circles on your clit. Just enough to feel good but not enough to actually get anywhere.

“What do you want, baby? Good girls use their words.” Felix chided, his fingers slipping lower to tap against your entrance but not going in.

“I want you to touch me! Please!” You kept your voice quiet so that no one outside the door could hear you, but that wasn’t what Felix wanted.

“You want me to touch you? Alright, baby, I’m feeling nice today.” Felix kept his eyes on your face as he slipped two of his fingers into your tight hole with basically no resistance. He watched as your face screwed up in pleasure and your lips parted in a silent moan. “Come on you can do better than that.”

With that, Felix pumped his fingers into you. Quick thrusts wouldn’t get him where he wanted to go so he opted for long, deep strokes that pressed the pads of his fingers onto that special spot he’d found a few weeks ago. The ball of his hand pressed deliciously against your clit with every thrust. You swallowed a moan and turned your head to press your face into your arm to help silence yourself.

At this, Felix threw three quick thrusts of his fingers into you.

“Uh uh,” he chided, “I want to hear those beautiful noises of yours, baby. Let me know how good I’m making you feel, yeah?”

He pressed a few more deep and precise thrusts into you and this time you complied with a long, drawn out moan. Felix grinned. He continued like this for a few minutes, pressing his fingers in as deep as possible. He resorted to pressing his hand against your clit and his fingers massaging that spot within you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re drenching my fingers already. I can’t wait until you cream my cock, baby. Keep moaning, just like that.”

He has you clenching and cumming on his fingers in seconds. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly he gets your thighs shaking. You’re moaning so loudly that you’re certain that the others can hear you. Felix smiles through the whole thing. His eyes are dark as he watches you cum just from his fingers.

“Good girl, there it is. Let’s see if you can take my cock, yeah?”

“Please.” You moan loudly.

Felix pulls his fingers out of you and you whine at the loss. He pulls your panties down your legs and tosses them somewhere in the room. Next he strips from the rest of his clothes and his cock slaps against his stomach. Precum pearled at his tip and your mouth watered. You longed to take him in your mouth and suck him until he came but he had other plans.

“Hands and knees. Now.” Felix demands. He pumps his cock a few times to make sure he’s hard enough. How could he not be, though, as he watches you climb onto your hands and knees and present your ass and your glistening hole to him. He leans over you and brushes his cock along your swollen folds. “Good girl. God, you have the most perfect ass…” Felix palmed it appreciatively before pulling his hand back and landing a firm slap on the flesh.

“Fellix!” you gasped when he landed a second slap.

“That’s right, baby, remember who’s name you’re screaming when I make you cum.” Felix’s deep voice rumbles.

He lined up his tip at your entrance and rubbed it through your folds a few times, reveling in the way he could make you shiver every time his cock grazed your over-sensitive clit. When you least expected it, Felix pushed his cock into your tight, warm cunt. You both moaned out in unison when he bottomed out. His long, thick cock filled you up perfectly. It was as if your pussy was designed for him. Felix swore that he could spend the rest of his life between your legs.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, darling?”

With that, he began thrusting. Sometimes adjusting to someone’s cock in you is a thing of myth. You can never get used to how perfectly he fills you up. It may not be the longest, but it’s thick and it stretches you more than anything or anyone else ever has. His cock has a perfect little curve to it that hits that little spot inside you whenever he angles his hips just right.

Tonight, he’s determined to get all of the sounds out of you that he can. So every single thrust is designed to do just that. He shoves himself into your snug heat as deep as he can go every single time. It’s like you can feel him in your throat. Every thrust pushes his hips flush with your ass. He takes a hand and presses on your back to push your chest onto the bed.

“Fuuuuuck baby, you feel so good.” Felix moaned, “Always so warm and tight for me, baby.”

“You feel so good inside of me,” You moan back, struggling to get your words out between Felix’s rough thrusts, “Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

“Come on, moan for me baby, show them how good I make you feel.”

As if you had a choice. His thrusts were hard and he shifted his hips until his tip speared into that spot over and over again. Felix had found that spot by chance a few weeks ago when he was fingering you and now he made it a point to seek it out every time.

Felix’s hand curled around your bodies and his fingers made contact with your clit immediately. At this, you keened and let out the loudest moan of the night. Your cunt clamped onto Felix’s cock and he bit his lip to keep from cumming right there. Your tight, wet heat eas driving him crazy but you had to cum first.

He could have sworn that the TV volume lowered.

“Come on baby, cum for me.” Felix grunted, his finger swirling around your swollen clit.

Your walls clenched and fluttered around him. Something in your belly pulled taut and you rocked yourself back on Felix’s cock. The extra bit of friction made the coil pull tight. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to let your body relax so that Felix could take over and bring you to orgasm. Your moans grew louder and louder as you got closer.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cried, “Fuck, Felix! Right there!”

“That’s a good girl, cream my cock, baby.”

The sound of the TV in the front room had stopped all together.

The extra pressure of you pushing back onto his cock was just the right thing. The intense pressure in your stomach suddenly released all at once. Your legs trembled and your body shook. Felix took over and gripped your hips tightly. He slowly guided your hips down towards the bed so you were laying flat, continuing his intense thrusts into your cunt. He leaned over you and pressed his lips to the back of your neck.

“Felix, don’t stop,” you moaned, arching your back into him to keep his dick lodged inside you as deep as possible.

Your orgasm washed over you in waves, each one resulting in a gush of wetness between your legs. His hips kept drilling into you diligently. He kissed along your shoulders and neck, sucking dark marks onto your skin. The second you rolled over, he’d give you hickeys on your neck and breasts to match these.

When he sensed your orgasm coming to an end, he slowed his hips but kept his cock lodged within your tight walls. He hadn’t come yet but he knew he had to give you a short break before he sought his own orgasm.

“Was I loud enough?” You giggled, “What was that about?”

“The guys were making fun of me, saying things like… I couldn’t be a dom because I’m too innocent, that I’m just a pillow prince and I let you do all the work.” Felix peppered soft kisses on your skin.

“That’s not it at all baby! We just like sex to be reciprocal, that’s all.”

“I know, but I guess I needed a little ego boost.” Felix shrugged.

“Well if I get to come like that every time we need an ego boost, by all means,” You giggled, rubbing your ass back into him and making his cock slide against your puffy walls, making you both gasp. “I think you could stand to be a little meaner, though.”

“What? You want me to be mean to you?” Felix stared at you with large eyes.

“Maybe a little more.”

“Oh, so you want me to call you my own little personal slut?” Felix whispered in your ear. That tantalizing voice of his made your cunt clench on him. “Oh so you would like that? I should have known you’d be a little cock-hungry slut. Can’t go a single day without my cock in you, is that it?”

“Mmhm…” You nodded, eyes suddenly a little teary but in the best way. You pushed your hips back against his again. He groaned and pressed a hand to your hip to stop your movements.

“If you keep going like that I’m gonna treat you like a little cocksleeve, got it? I’ll stuff you with enough cum to keep you full for weeks. You want that, baby?”

“God, yes,” your eyes rolled back at the thought of feeling even fuller than you were now.

“Then relax, my pretty slut, we’re just getting started.” Felix growled.

His hand slipped under you to press lightly against your tummy, the pressure pushing your g-spot effortlessly against the tip of his cock. He’d hardly have to aim at all like this. You let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll fill you up ‘til your cute little cunt can’t handle it anymore. M’ cum is all yours.”

#felix smut #lee felix smut #yongbok smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee yongbok smut #felix lee smut #ellie writes #PHEW #an ask!#i got carried away with this one #meant to be like 10 paragraphs but its now liek five pages #i don;t have time for the other asks tonight but #i am getting to them #fuck felix is so hot #thank you so much for the ask

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loveshotzz · 9 months

Text

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap ten/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs -

Baby, I’m Yours

summary: A sleepless night brings you back to where it all began.

wc: 8k

warnings: 18+ for the softest of smut.

author’s note: I know we still have the epilogue but I can’t believe we’re actually here at the end of their story. Thank you to all of you that spent your summer reading about Steve and his Tough Girl, this has been such a journey for me as a writer with a lot of challenges but I’m so thankful I did it. Truly writing about these two and talking about it with you guys was the highlight of my summer. From the bottom of my heart, thank you 🧡

🌇 <- chapter nine

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

Beginning of August

Steve had been gone for a week and a half and it felt more like a lifetime to you, but it wasn’t for the lack of communication. If Steve wasn’t calling you he was texting you, sending you pictures of his lunch no matter how lame you told him it was. By day three you were sending him a picture of your own with a loud sigh and a roll of your eyes. His enthusiastic response of ‘That looks good baby!!’ had made you squirm in your seat with hot cheeks huffing the word “pathetic” to yourself, but that didn’t stop you from doing it again the next day.

It was FaceTime calls of Peach telling Steve to turn the camera around, always too busy looking at you and telling you how pretty you are to notice his was pointed towards a wall. Or the one time it was pointed at Eddie who sat in front of him making a suggestive ‘cumming’ face to tease him, the camera flipped immediately when he heard you giggle. Steve scolded his cackling friend with an ‘honestly, I hate you’ before taking you to another room, apologizing profusely with blush visible on his cheeks.

It was the small bits of time in between text messages and phone calls that made it drag. The quiet evenings without Bandit’s excited bark from the front yard, the low simmer that’s always in your gut from the possibility of running into him any time you come and go, is gone with the man and his dog. It’s just enough time for seeds of doubt to creep in. The newness, the anxiety of it all.

The bright red numbers on the clock above your stove read 2:13am - three days until Steve gets home and tonight you can’t sleep. Quietly thanking whatever gods there are for your day off tomorrow, well - today.

Your apartment smells like Clorox, lavender, and lemon. The wood floors sparkling just like your kitchen countertops. Cleaning everything you could touch has kept you busy, but it doesn’t make you any more tired than when you’d started. Your intrusive thoughts and daydreams are going a mile a minute:you didn’t get your usual good night call from him. The rational side of you knows that one missed phone call doesn’t mean anything, but the irrational side decided you don’t need to rest.

The full trash bag next to your front door taunts you, just like the promise you made Steve about taking it out late at night months ago. The fact that it’s the last thing left to do makes it that much harder to walk away from. Gnawing at the side of your cheek you decide not to, he’s not even home to catch you.

The moon’s blue glow illuminates your path while the skyline of the city sparkles below it. The tall buildings shimmer in a way that takes attention from the stars in the cloudless night sky. You can feel how the humidity hangs less thick in the air the more August rolls in. The thin material of your tank top does nothing against the light breeze that makes the bottom of your sleep shorts tickle the tops of your thighs. There’s a chill that didn’t exist before and it makes goosebumps dot across your skin.

Your slides scrape along the gravel from your refusal to fully pick your feet up, and it fights with the sounds of the late Friday night in the distance. You hum a made up tune as the streetlight buzzes above, lifting the lid you jump when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“I thought I told you not to take your trash out in the middle of the night, especially alone, tough girl.” Steve’s voice erupts everything that’s laid dormant inside of you for the past week. Butterflies start to flutter until they’re fighting against your rib cage to get out and your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling before you’ve even turned around.

“Well,” You sigh, dropping your bag in the trash can, “the guy I was supposed to call if I needed anything ditched me for his out of state boyfriend.” Shrugging when you finally let yourself look at him, the view rivals the one that shines bright behind him.

His hair is messy in a way that isn’t purposeful this time, but he looks just as handsome as any other day. The stubble on his jaw is thicker, but not quite like the night he waited at your doorstep, and god, do you want to feel it against your skin. His big arms sit crossed over a broad chest that’s only covered in a gray tank top. The thick patch of hair always half way on display threatens to touch the base of his neck, the bottom of his silver chain disappearing inside of it.

His freckles are darker now, easier to find from all the sun he got while he was gone and you’re jealous of the hands that got to rub sunscreen on them, even if they were his own. The black basketball shorts on his legs stop in the middle of his thighs, it makes you bite at your lip.The greens and golds in his eyes light a match under your skin with the way he stares at you — like he couldn’t possibly look away even if he tried.

“My out of state boyfriend huh?” He grins, tightening his hold on his own bag before his Nike slide covered feet crunch against the gravel towards you. His eyes catch the dainty silver still hanging around your neck, the stone shining in the moonlight, and it makes his heart swell. Tossing his trash in after yours, he meets your gaze down the slope of his nose, arching a brow. “What does that make you then?”

He smells like bergamot and cedar, a lingering hint of the cigar he probably smoked in New York still clinging to his hair. The heat coming off his body makes your fingertips buzz, twitching with the need to reach out and just touch him.

“I dunno, what does that make me, Steve?” It comes out shy, a little above a whisper, a question just for him.

He hums, a low sound that vibrates from deep in his chest while his fingers come up to toy with the stone that dangles just above the dip of your breasts. The tips of them tickling rough against your soft skin.

“What do you want?” His confident demeanor falters when he asks just as quiet, all the miles and days without seeing each other are affecting him too. He doesn’t tell you that’s part of the reason he booked an early flight home on your day off.

“I want you.” You don’t hesitate when you say it, no pauses for even a second to think of what you want to say. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, the muscles under your palm dance from your simple touch. He wonders if you can feel his pulse.

“You already have me.” He almost wants to laugh until he still sees the same shared doubt in your eyes. “Haven’t I made that obvious?”

He tugs at your necklace as a reminder, a smile breaking across your face because of it and all he wants to do is kiss you now. Especially when he drops the stone to grab your hand, and after taking just a few steps, you reach up to touch it again — a silent, constant reminder of his confession as you walk towards the wooden gates.

“Wait, why didn’t you tell me you were coming back early?” You pout a little, looking up at him when he stops you both at your backyard.

“I landed a few hours ago,” He chuckles, his hands finding your hips to pull you to his chest, in love with the way you stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck like it’s natural, like it’s second nature to want him close. “I was actually going to surprise you in the morning with breakfast after I picked up Bandit from Nance’s.”

“Oh yeah?” You grin at the thought of Steve showing up at your front door, that messy head of hair shoved into a baseball cap.

He nudges his nose against yours, the spearmint of his toothpaste fanning cool across your cheeks while your fingers curl into the soft hair at the base of his neck. Tilting your chin so your lips just barely touch, you silently beg him to close the gap.

“Yeah,” He breathes, hazel eyes clocking the way your lashes flutter against the top of your cheeks. He almost feels bad for teasing, especially when you give his hair a gentle, coaxing tug. “But someone wanted to risk their lives for the sake of taking out the trash. So, surprise, pretty girl, I’m home.”

His words make your breath catch, and you want to tell him he feels like home more than your real one ever did. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest when his top lip whispers against your still slightly pouted bottom one. You tug at his roots a little harder this time, needier, and you swear a whine tightens at the back of your throat threatening to come out if he doesn’t give you what you want. Please, kiss me.

“Well, good thing you were here to save me.” You giggle against his mouth, and it makes his hands squeeze at your sides a little tighter, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The tip of your nose pushes against the rough stubble on his cheek, “Besides, I missed you, I wouldn’t have wanted to wait ‘til the morning.”

“God, honey. You have no idea how much I missed you.” His face crumples a little at the thought, almost like he forgot for a second you were right in front of him, but when you somehow pull yourself closer, he doesn’t waste anymore time.

The wood is rough when your back hits the gate at the same time his lips finally crash into yours. A week of longing comes out with a sigh. The metal hinges and lock clank loudly together while he steals the breath from your lungs. He coaxes your mouth open with a swipe from his impatient tongue, groaning when you grant him access. You taste just as sweet as he remembers, and he promises himself he’ll never go a day without it again — not if he can help it.

Your hands get greedy in his hair, bigger handfuls, harsher tugs while your body stays flush against his as he keeps you pinned to the door. It’s all tongue and teeth for a minute, both of you losing yourselves in it for longer than you should. It’s not until a car honks, signaling to any bikers around that it’s popping out of the alley, breaking you two apart.

Chest heaving and lips swollen, all you want is more.

He laughs to himself pressing his forehead against yours with the kind of smile that makes your knees weak. The tip of his nose touches yours; he’s all wild hair and love sick eyes. You don’t want to be without him tonight. Or ever.

“Come sleepover?”

The question comes out before you can stop it, before you can really register what that invitation might mean for both of you. His eyes widen before they search your face for any kind of regret, his tongue wetting his lips when he doesn’t find it. You twist strands of his honey hair between your fingers, nervously waiting for his response.

“We - we don’t have to do anything. I just wanna be with you.” You finally whisper, your nerves getting the best of you. He can’t believe you think he’d actually say no.

“Let me shower and get the airport off of me, and then I’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the night with you baby.” He steals another kiss from your smiling lips, letting you take another one for yourself, groaning at the nip of your teeth on his bottom lip before he finally lets you go.

Opening the gate for you, he grabs your wrist pulling you back for one more, relishing in the giggle it earns him before he whispers that he’ll be back in fifteen minutes.

It feels like your heart is trying to escape through your chest as you try not to check the time on your phone. Strategically placed candles are the only light in your living room and kitchen, while a dimmed bedside lamp in your room gleams a dark orange with your wax melter. It feels like your apartment is glowing, but it does nothing to relax the nerves that course through your veins as you pace the small space of your room trying to shake them before his inevitable arrival.

Knock, knock, knock

They are quieter than his normal ones, but they make you jump just the same. You shake your hands out, taking a deep breath before you pad barefoot to your front door. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth to try and contain the smile that always grows the first time you lay your eyes on him and his lopsided grin.

“Hey baby.” He greets you in the kind of voice that makes the dough of your thighs press.

His damp hair is pushed back, from what looks like a few quick hands in the mirror. A simple white shirt replaces the tank top from before, fitting loosely across his shoulders, and a soft looking pair of gray cotton shorts cover the tops of his thighs this time. He’s wearing a tan pair of moccasin slippers on his feet that you’ve never seen, and for some reason his exposed ankles make the heat rise to your cheeks while the fresh scent of his pine body wash threatens to take over your senses.

“Hi handsome.” It’s dripping in sugar the way you say it, sweet off your tongue just for him as you open the door wider.

He thinks your apartment smells like peaches and the ocean when you close it behind him. It smells just like you and he feels surrounded by it, intoxicated with it, the way he always wants to be. You watch him take in your apartment like he missed it too, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth when he notices you just cleaned it. He bites back his remark when his eyes meet yours, he can’t bring himself to say it when you’re staring at him from under your lashes with your back pressed to the door all shy like that.

“Don’t be shy, honey,” he extends a big hand out for you to take with soft eyes, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” copying your line from outside, he wiggles his fingers a little with a smile warmer than the glow of the candles that dance shadows across his sharp jaw and cheek bones, “I just wanna lay with you.”

You don’t hesitate to slip your palm into his, your heart racing when you watch his fingers wrap around you with ease. He pulls you into him, colliding in a mix of forest and the beach. He keeps a hold of your hand, cupping your cheek with his other one. The pad of his thumb traces over the heated skin, paying extra attention to the soft bag under your eye. You needed sleep.

“Just me and you, that’s all I want, okay?” He reassures you in a voice lower than a whisper. His heart swells when you nod with big glassy eyes, your hand coming to rest on the top of his so you can lean deeper into his touch.Steve’s hazel eyes look to yours, he tilts his head a little bit closer in a silent ask for permission, you push up on your tiptoes to meet him halfway.

He kisses you differently than how he did in the alley, differently than the Fourth of July and the baseball game. He’s gentle, like he’s taking his time with you because he actually has it now, like he’s sure of it. He doesn’t try to deepen it even when they move together like this is what they were always meant to be doing, not even when your top lip catches a little dirty with his bottom. He wants to remember this moment, commit it to memory so that he never forgets what this feels like with you. He kisses you like this until the need for oxygen becomes too much and your feet start to hurt from standing in place for too long.

“Let’s go lay down.” You whisper between bated breaths that mingle with his, your chests heave as he gives you the kind of toothy grin that makes the butterflies wake up again, nodding with a squeeze of your hand.

The hum of A/C and the sounds of your breathing are the only things that can be heard in the low light of your room. Steve’s body lays pressed on top of yours, making himself comfortable between your legs. His head rests on your sternum with a cheek against the soft curve of your tummy. His big hands hold tight to your sides, caging you in – it feels like he’s everywhere and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The weight of him relaxes you into the feathers of your pillows.

Your fingers keep themselves busy buried deep in the thickness of his hair. Still a little damp at the roots, you massage the part of his scalp you know was resting on the hard cushion of the airplane seat, earning you a deep groan that vibrates between your legs. He feels the way they try to close because of it, the sharp intake of breath that you try to hide.

He’d be lying if he said his own body wasn’t reacting being this close to you, especially when the pads of his thumbs caress under the swell of your breasts and there’s no wire of a bra to be found. His eyes roll back as the blunt ends of your nails start to scratch lightly near the nape of his neck, making his fingers squeeze you at the sensation. His face nuzzles deeper into the softness of your stomach, inhaling. You feel the prickle of his stubble through the thin material of your tank top and it makes you giggle.

Steve doesn’t know how he lasted as long as he did this past week without you.

He pushes the bottom of your tank top up and tries not to stare at the supple skin exposed to him before blowing a raspberry. It earns an even louder giggle, making your legs bend at the knees, trapping him in between your thighs.

“Steve!” You sound annoyed but the smile on your face gives you away when you go to cover your eyes with the back of your hand.

“What baby?” He smirks against your skin and feels the way it makes you squirm with a subtle roll of your hips, he’s not even sure you noticed that you did it.

“No…”Your voice trails off when he pushes your shirt up a little higher, his lips getting bolder, addicted to the way you heat up for him with every soft kiss, “No raspberries.” You finally manage, making him chuckle. But that doesn’t stop him continuing on his path.

“I promise I’ll be nice, m’sorry” He mumbles an apology against your skin, basking in the goosebumps it earns him.

He sits back on his knees, thumbs hooking into the bottom of your tank. His eyes meet yours from underneath his lashes and he wishes he could take a picture of the way you look right now.

“Is this okay?” He asks just to make sure, and the nod of your head with heavy lids is enough for him to press a wet kiss on your sternum before pulling the rest of the offending fabric off, throwing it somewhere on your floor.

Steve forgets how to breathe the moment his eyes land on you, soft curves just begging for his touch. He can’t help himself when he runs his palms up your sides making your nipples pebble when the pads of his thumbs meet the bottom swell of your breasts. You wonder if he can feel the wings under your rib cage.

“God - honey,” Steve’s words get lost on his tongue when you stare up at him with eyes blown out like his, it makes him run a hand down his face like he can’t believe you’re real. “I’m lucky to just be lookin’ at you.”

His praise makes a shy smile push up your cheeks, his own teeth shining in a grin because of it.

“I wanna look at you too.” You whine a little, reaching down between your legs to tug at the cotton of his shirt with a pout.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, bending back down to hover over you. His nose nudges against your cheek before his lips brush yours, smirking when you nod a little desperate against his mouth.

The kiss he gives you lingers, lighting a fire inside of you, the kind that burns at your fingertips, consuming you like it’s wild and it makes you realize it’s never going to be enough. You’re never going to get enough of the man who looks at you like you hung the stars in his sky, like you were the sun that broke through the rain clouds that followed him around.

His fingers curl at the hem of his shirt, and it feels like he’s moving in slow motion when he pulls it over his head, adding it to the already growing pile on the floor. His muscles twitch under your gaze, his own nerves finally catching up to him when he realizes just how long it’s been since he’s been with someone like this. Pink dusts his cheeks but he doesn’t look away, not when he sees the way your eyes glaze over at the sight. The dark thatch of hair in the middle of his chest looks soft to the touch from his late night shower and it makes your fingers twitch to touch him.

The silver of his chain gleams like yours in the moonlight that leaks through your curtains and it makes his skin look like it glows. You give in, running your fingertips through the thick happy trail that’s surrounded by another collection of freckles and moles that you feel the need to kiss and you catch the shudder that runs through him because of it.

“You’re so handsome, Steve.” It comes out a little breathless, and it makes the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Thank you, angel.” He tries to hide his bashfulness in a grin and a hand through his hair, bending back down to press a kiss to your collarbone so you don’t see his smile.

He starts a path up your neck, nipping at sensitive skin along the way to your lips, his own butterflies being spurred on by the whimper it earns him. He hovers over you searching your face for any indication to stop but he’s only met with the kind of look in your eyes that almost has him say it.

‘I love you’.

He tries to show you by slotting his lips against yours in a hot breath, like a key to its lock. The bed dips on either side of your head when he goes from his palms to his forearms, chest to chest he wonders if you can feel his heart beating just for you tonight.

The feeling of his skin against yours makes every inch of you feel like a livewire, both of you moaning into the kiss like you’ve waited too long for this. Tongues collide messily when he rolls his hips with a purpose. The pointed pressure on your bundle of nerves, has you keening into him. Your hands slide up his chest through the patch of hair you’d been dreaming about for months, before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. Addicted to the way his hard muscles flex against your soft skin.

Box springs squeak when he lets go of all of his weight, it feels like he’s everywhere and it makes your head spin. Your fingers find their way back into the soft hair at the nape of his neck as you fight for dominance with his lips, trying to convey everything you’re feeling right now because words just won’t work.

Pushing your hips up to meet his in a slow grind, the thin material of his shorts does nothing to hide just how big he really is and it makes everything turn sloppy, teeth scraping together with silk between your fingers tugging at his roots a little mean. He smiles when he pulls away to catch his breath, keeping his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes are as black as the night outside that threatens to give away to the sun in just a few hours, they look at you like he can’t believe you’re real, memorizing every detail of your face like you might disappear if he blinks.

“So pretty.” He murmurs before littering kisses down your body, some sweet and some with a nip of his teeth.

His eyes meet yours in a silent question of ‘is this okay?’, long fingers curling around the elastic band. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your shy smile. You nod with a little too much excitement making him smirk before pressing a sweet kiss on the top of your hip, running his nose along the soft your tummy doing it again to the other side.

You hold your breath when he pulls them down your thighs, the tips of his fingers gliding down the sides of your legs as he goes, lips tugging up when you squirm a little because of it. A low groan vibrates from his chest when he realizes you aren’t wearing underwear, glistening with your arousal in the dim light. You’re so wet and all he’s done is kiss you.

“Baby, baby, baby.” He mutters awestruck by the sight.

A little embarrassed at your body’s reaction, his praise makes your legs try to snap shut but he stops you with a gentle hand on the inside of your knee, spreading them again.

“You’re beautiful, please don’t hide from me.” He begs, taking all of you in again. “So, so, so beautiful, honey.”

His fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling your leg up enough for his lips to kiss the soft skin right above the round bone, his nose skims up your calf to press another one, relishing in the giggle he gets as he keeps on his path to what he really wants. You squeal when he nips at the inside of your knee and you can feel his smirk against your goosebumps.

Once his kisses get to your thigh, he settles between your legs with his chest to the mattress. It’s hard to remember your own name when he looks up at you through his lashes like that. He hooks your knee over his broad shoulder, his lips dragging a little dirty across your heated skin. He can taste the watermelon that still lingers from his favorite lotion. You were going to be the death of him.

He meets your eyes when he gets high enough for your thigh and hip to connect. Close enough to smell how sweet you are worked up just for him.

“Can I taste you?” He skims his nose up the plush inside of your thigh when he asks, his eyelids growing heavy just basking in being close to you like this. You could say no, and this would be enough for him but the way you’re already dripping on your sheets makes him insatiable. “You want that?”

You want that?

He watches how your eyes glaze over at his question, the intensity of his gaze makes you want to hide, he was so handsome looking up at you like this. Too bashful to actually say yes, you nod again.

“Can you say it for me?” He squeezes your hip, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles to soothe your nerves like his own weren’t boiling under the surface of his confident demeanor like a volcano ready to explode.

What if he wasn’t good at this anymore?

“Y- yes, I want you to taste me, handsome you can do whatever you want to me.” The breathy giggle that bubbles passed your lips makes him grin lopsided just how you like, a smugness that wasn’t there before smoldering like a fire in his eyes.

“Yeah? Fuck - Honey, I dream about this.” He groans when he pulls himself closer, the tip of his nose running up your slick folds making you shudder, fingers already tangling in your sheets. “You want me to show you how much I missed you?”

He doesn’t tell you that he’s started to always miss you when you aren’t around.

He accepts your nod this time, your teeth threatening to make your bottom lip bleed when he settles your other leg over his shoulder too, nothing holding him back from you anymore. He takes all of you in with a greedy eyes, his pink tongue darling out to lick his lips when he sees just how much you want this too.

Nothing can prepare you for the first swipe of his flattened tongue between your slick folds, the tip of it catching your clit with just enough pressure for the grip on your sheets to tighten. The butterflies in your rib cage feel like they make their escape in the gasp you let out, his low hum of approval making your toes curl when he does it again.

“So fucking sweet baby, god of course you are.”

He doesn’t waste anymore time testing the waters, his self doubt gone with his self control when your hips roll up asking for more. Steve knows now he’ll never say no to you and he’s not shy with the way he buries his face in your pussy. His tongue laps up everything you give him, like he’s hungry with his nose pressed to your bundle of nerves with enough pressure to make your back arch.

“Ohmygod - Steve.” The moan you let out makes his cock twitch, your fingers reaching down to tangle themselves in his hair, shamelessly pulling him closer. You were better than his dreams.

Your thighs snap closed around his ears after he stops the greedy strokes of his tongue in the tightness of your entrance for his lips to wrap your clit. He sucks with the kind of force that makes your eyes hit the back of your head. His eyebrows marry together when he closes his eyes like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. One of hands leaves the dough of your thighs for his thick index finger to take his tongue's place, collecting the slick from between your folds before pushing one knuckle in.

It makes you gasp a little breathy as your hips push up for more, and he gives it to you, pushing two more knuckles in and you already feel so full. Your walls constrict, fluttering around his single digit like it’s a stretch and he wonders how you’re going to be able to take him. His own hips rut into the mattress in search of some kind of relief while he sets a steady pace between his mouth and his wrist that has you clenching like you’re about to unravel.

“You close baby? Wanna show me how good it feels?” His question comes out sloppy against your mound, all the color in his eyes is gone meeting yours from between your legs blown wide. When he adds a second finger, it slides in with ease making your eyes hit the back of your head, a low moan bubbling past your lips. Your toes curl with his fingers, jaw going slack with his name in your mouth like a prayer and he’s scared you’re going to make him cum in his pants again.

“Just like that, fuck - right there - Steve, Steve, Steeeeeve!” The fingers that are tangled in his hair tug rough, your thighs clamping down hard around his head while your body tries to squirm away to run from the intensity of it all, the stubble on his jaw rubbing you raw when he moves his head from side to side drinking in everything you give him.

His hand on your hip locks you in place while you come undone on his tongue and he swears you taste just like sugar when he buries his face in deeper till you whine, pushing on his forehead to stop, overstimulation winning. Heat floods your cheeks when you see the shine from your slick covering the bottom of his lopsided grin when he finally looks up at you.

“So pretty like this,” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your shaking thigh.

You cover your face with your hands, the intensity of your first orgasm and the intimacy of it all overwhelms you, the tightness in your chest threatens to become unbearable. The three words sitting at the tip of your tongue beg to come out from between your lips.

Not yet.

He trails sticky kisses up your stomach, making sure to pay special attention to the swell of your breasts, pulling them both together in his big hands to give them equal treatment. Shining lips wrap around your sensitive nipples and it's enough for a new wave of arousal to blossom deep inside your belly, a subtle rock of your hips meeting his when he rolls one between his teeth. Insatiable, just like him.

“Steve,” His name comes out around a sigh, your fingers running up his freckled back before tangling themselves in his hair again, addicted to the softness of it.

“Mmm, tell me what you want.” He looks up at you from under thick lashes, lids heavy, and eyes glossy. He’s wrecked.

“You.” The answer is just as simple as it was outside, it's all you’ve ever wanted. You realize that now. The universe bringing you here to this moment with him. This was it.

“Baby,” he looks at you like he means it, like his whole heart is in your hands now and it has been since the day you moved in he just didn’t know it yet, “I’m yours.”

He moves back up your body, leaving wet kisses across sweat slicked skin making sure to suck at the sensitive spot he found just above your collarbone, smiling when you gasp. He’s not expecting to feel your lips against his jaw, bold and sure of themselves by the time they get to the corner of his mouth, dainty fingers pulling his chin down to collect your kiss.

Your lips move like you can finally relax, like you’re home now and he can feel your heartbeat against his chest. This didn’t feel like just sex.

Your hands run down his sides, grinning into his mouth when he chuckles as the tips of your fingers brush against his ribs, you keep that information locked away another time as you hook them in the elastic band of his shorts. His tongue licks a little dirty into your mouth when you start to pull them down his hips, helping you get them to his knees before kicking them off entirely. The length of him feels heavy against your stomach, and it makes you break away from the kiss but his lips stay attached to you.

Your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere he can reach.

The view makes your breath hitch and get stuck in the back of your throat, walls fluttering around nothing when you see just how big he really is. He’s too busy trying to find new places to make you gasp and all you wanna do is look at him.

“Steve” his name comes out around the gasp he was trying so hard to get by sucking a little bruise behind your ear.

He hums against your skin with his eyes closed, drowning in you. Love drunk off of it. The slow sleepiness from the day creeping in as his body molds to the warmth of you.

“I wanna look at you, too.” Your request is quiet against the rough stubble that fades into his neck, and you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips.

“Yeah?” His voice is hoarse, nose nudging against your jaw when he brings his gaze back to yours, a smile pulls up the apples of his cheeks, crinkling small lines under his eyes.

“Yeah.” You don’t nod this time.

He holds your eyes in his, needing you to know there’s a double meaning in his words when he brings his palm to your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone.

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

The mattress bounces when Steve flops next to you on his back, the two of you barely fitting on your queen size with his broad shoulders and long legs. He catches the way your eyes grow big when you sit up on your knees and finally get to see all of him. He reaches out for you, sensing your hesitation at his size

“C’mere, baby, we’ll go slow.”

Heat blooms between your legs when you take his hand, your knees finding a home on either side of his hips. He’s thicker than you’d imagined all those nights with your fingers between your thighs. The big vein running up the length of him protrudes like it’s working overtime, while beads of pearly white smear against the rough patch of hair just below his belly button from his light pink tip. Wrapping his hand around the base, he gives himself a pump to relieve some of the ache from seeing you sitting on top of him like this. Soft curves on display in the moonlight, he can’t wait to see them when it breaks daylight.

“Fuck,” He sighs when you settle above him, “you look gorgeous.”

His words make your confidence peak, your hands finding themselves flat against his chest, the blunt ends of your nails drag through the hair there and you spot another cluster of freckles you hadn’t seen before, you wonder if he’ll let you find them all.

“Look who’s talkin’” You tease, making him laugh as you lean up to steal a kiss. The motion has the length of him slide easily between your slick folds, his tip catching your clit before popping out.

“Jesus Christ.” He sighs against your mouth that’s formed in a silent ‘o’, rolling his back up in search for more.

“Steve - you’re so - “ The last of your sentence is stolen by a gasp when you grind down to meet his thrust, the tip of him prodding your entrance before gliding up with just the right amount of pressure to make you both moan.

“I’m so what?” He asks a little smug, arms circling the curve of your waist to pull you closer, dragging you over the length of him again, it makes you shudder in his grasp.

He catches against where you beg for more of him, fluttering around the tip, your walls try to suck him in. A low growl rumbles from his chest when he tries to fit a little more. It’s your hips that roll, and it's just enough for him to push all the way in with a little resistance.

“Goddd,” You whine, feeling the fullest you’ve ever been, your walls stinging, desperately trying to accommodate his size. A low huff exhales through your nose when you sit up straight, letting your nails drag over the beauty marks that litter his stomach before finishing your sentence, “so big.”

“Yeah, but look at you takin’ it.” He groans with pinched brows, eyes transfixed on where he disappears inside of you. Arousal coating the thick thatch of hair that frames him, wetting his lips as he watches the way you grind your clit against it letting him fill you to the hilt. “So good for me baby, so beautiful, - fuck! - so gorgeous.”

His praise has you clenching around him, your mouth falling open when you feel him twitch because of it. His big hands find the tops of your thighs, the pads of his fingers leaving fires in their wake while making their way to your hips. He squeezes softly when he gets there, guiding your lazy thrusts before searching for your hands.

You watch him intertwine your fingers with curious eyes, his gaze transfixed on yours as he holds them at your sides, rolling his hips up to push even deeper.

“Oh god,” He does it again only this time if feels like there’s nowhere else for him to fit and it makes your eyes screw shut, “ohmyfuckinggod - Steeeve!”

“Right there? Yeah? Is that it?” He grunts trying to repeat it and your hands squeeze his in an iron grip. “Come on baby, I need to see you.”

It’s hard to open your eyes, the slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is almost overwhelming. Connected to him in a way that is going to change you forever. The pad of his thumb rubs soft on the top of your hand, bringing you back to him.

“You’re eyes are too pretty to be keepin’ them from me.” He smiles when you finally meet his gaze and it’s enough to punch the air out of your lungs.

“I love you.” The three words slip past your kiss bitten lips before you can even think long enough to stop them and it makes everything come to a standstill.

“What’d you just say?” Steve’s voice is quiet, something unrecognizable in his tone that makes all your nerves come back like they never left.

“I - I -“ the harsh sting of rejection is written all over your face and the feeling of you trying to untangle your hands snaps him back to reality. To you.

“Hey, hey, hey, no honey.” He doesn’t let you go, squeezing till his knuckles turn white “I just wanted to make sure I heard you right, because I’ve been wanting to say that to you since the fourth of July.”

You light up for him in a way he’s never seen before and he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.

“Really?” You whisper a little shy, your own smile becoming uncontainable.

He lets your hands go to wrap his arms back around your waist, sitting up as he pulls you with him on his lap. Chest to chest with his back against your headboard, you’re even closer to him like this. The new position has him impossibly deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix making you keen pretty.

“Yeah, really.” He sighs, wishing he had gotten to say it first.

One arm keeps you close while the other wraps around your back, the warmth of his palm spreading wide across it. The stray hair that you missed more than you realized falls over his forehead and there’s nothing stopping you from pushing it back. Fingernails dragging through his soft hair, making his eyes close until he feels the slow drag of your hips spurring him on.

He doesn’t hesitate to pick up the pace, especially when your arms wrap around his neck and he feels your hardened nipples against chest. The new angle has his thrusts hitting the spot inside of you no one else has ever been able to find, the one you almost didn’t think existed. The tip of him catches it again and again.

The sound of your slick fills the quiet of your room, growing louder with every roll of your hips that connect with his. The light sheen of sweat that coats both of you has you sliding against his thighs, the cool air from the A/C doing nothing as the two of you get lost like this.

Your second orgasm builds at the same time your body starts to slump against his, your muscles screaming at you for a break.

“Getting close, huh?” He asks, with a forehead pressed to yours, lips teasing but never touching with each thrust.

All you can do is nod, your eyes not daring to leave his again. He wouldn’t let you even if you tried, a hazel forest turned night, you never wanted to leave the depths of them.

“So good for me, let go pretty baby, I got you. Let me do all the work.” He picks up his pace, pushing deeper in with every roll of his hips, feeling the way you squeeze around him while your body starts to shake, the high you’d been chasing threatening to take you.

Holding your gaze, the hand on your back slides up the dip of your spine, curling around the back of your neck. He closes the last bit of space, pulling you to his lips. It’s sloppy and sweet, neither one of you trying to deepen it, just enjoying the way you move together like it was supposed to be like this forever.

“Fuck- I love you so much it scares me.” Steve admits when he pulls away, his confession is the last straw that sends you over the edge. Tears stinging the corners of your eyes when you cum hard around him for the second time.

Your fingers tangle his hair, crashing your lips into his with tear stained cheeks and he can feel everything you put inside of it just for him. It’s enough to finally let himself unravel for the first time in years with a loud moan and his face buried in your neck.

It warms deep in your gut when he spills inside of you, his body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your thighs shake clinging to him, both of you too scared to let go in the irrational fear that you’ll just wake up from a really good dream. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your skin, your nails finding their way to his scalp. He hums against you when you kiss his temple, nuzzling deeper until you feel his lips against the underside of your jaw.

The two of you sit there like this in a mess of tangled limbs. Sweet kisses and even sweeter words all spoken just barely above a whisper until he’s soft enough to slide out on his own. He takes his time cleaning you up after with giant hands that treat you like glass.

It’s like muscle memory the way he pulls you to his chest under the covers, like this isn’t your first sleepover. The tip of his nose runs along the length of yours with shining eyes and an even brighter smile, kissing you softly with another whispered “you’re so beautiful”.

Streams of sunshine break through your blinds when the two of you finally settle in, buried deep in his arms surrounded by the lingering scent of pine and him, the sounds of his even breathing are enough for you to give into your heavy lids.

It’s only when you’re on the verge of dreams you’re sure will be filled with him that you hear it:

“I love you, tough girl.”

🌇 -> epilogue

beta’d by @chechelia & dividers by @chechelia

(thank you for everything cece ♥️ and a special thank you to @superblysubpar for betaing the first half of this series, i love you both dearly. & also @carolmunson for always talking to me about our boys, and helping me make this world a little bigger ♥️ ily)

#my writing #all i really want is you series #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington slowburn #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harringont series

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trappolia · 4 months

Text

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING (I FELL IN LOVE) ── gallagher + gn!reader, 790

he finds comfort in you in the waking world the same way people do in their dreams.

sleep comes easier in penacony. the reverie where locals and outlanders alike seek some semblance of escape from their truths and the hedonistic what-ifs that can become reality in the dreamscape is simply gallagher's "daytime" job ─ the meticulous dream-to-dream routine of maintaining peace and some semblance of order in a world where it is so easy for one's perceived reality to warp. those in the dreamscape prefer it to the rigid frame of the waking world, but gallagher knows all too well that the warping images of an illusion so easily influenced by the slightest shift of one's mood is anything but a utopia.

so, really, it's no surprise he finds such dear solace in your arms.

"you're back!" you beam, so sweet and darling when you catch sight of gallagher dragging his shoes past the drunken revelers ─ who will no doubt be stumbling back to their rooms where their dreampools lay, the portal to even more hedonistic pleasures and drunken revelries.

"that i am," he grunts, sliding onto an empty barstool just as you slide him his usual drink over the countertop. the gin burns through his throat, just enough to warm him up some. gallagher doesn't care how much dreamers fawn over the aesthetic of dreampools and the further bonus of their purpose. he's not fond of waking up in anything other than a bed, no matter how dreampools have been designed to offer the semblance of one. dreampools mean work, and he's had quite enough of that for the next 24 hours or so.

but stars know he won't be so lucky.

"tough time at work?" you offer him a sympathetic smile, wiping a glass with a clean rag. your customers at the bar had begun to dwindle, the few that remained idly chatting with their companions or indulging in their drink in personal quiet.

gallagher sighs ─ straightens his shoulders and tries to look less disheveled; he's here and out of work to enjoy some time with you, not to bitch and moan about his day. "sorry, darlin'. it wasn't that bad, 's just─"

he sighs again, not wanting to think about how the pillars that are supposed to uphold the dreamscape and his work seem to be crumbling every time he goes back to sleep. gallagher hasn't been on the scene yet, but he's heard reports of stuff that might be going on, and if they were true, then he was going to have a hell of a field day and a bunch of paperwork to do.

"i get it," you say, reaching over the counter to squeeze his hand. it's been hours since your shift started, and you smell of something akin to cinnamon and spice, the undertone of brandy and whiskey underneath. he thinks it fitting ─ you're so sweet, such a darling, so that must have translated into the drinks you brew even in the waking world, where the taste of one's mix relies simply on ingredient and skill.

gallagher manages a smile ─ one that doesn't strain at his lips and makes him feel like he's cosplaying in someone else's skin ─ and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing the soft skin of your knuckles. the metal of your wedding band is cool, but fills his blood with heat and his heart with warmth. "i don't deserve you, honestly."

"now i think that's just the gin talking," you tease, pinching his chin playfully.

"gah," gallagher feigns annoyance ─ badly, if the amused grin on his face is any indication but ─ and swats your hand away. "'s your shift ending soon?"

"mhm," you nod, giggling as you pull back from him and retreat back into your personal space ─ and gallagher misses you already. god, maybe the gin really is getting to him.

"what do you say we head back to our room and catch a nap after this?" gallagher asks, idly tracing his finger along the edge of his empty shot glass. the band on his finger ─ the mirror of yours ─ glints in the hazy yellow light of the bar. "or i can tell you about the day i've had and you can doze off because of how boring it is."

you give him a cheeky grin. "hard pass. your stories always keep me up at night. tell me about that masked fool who gave you a nightmare about me divorcing you."

"never again," gallagher deadpans, and when you burst into laughter, he's convinced that no sort of illusion a masked fool or xipe themself can conjure could ever compare to you ─ his very own dream come true.

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sc0tters · 5 months

Text

Best Yet | Luke Hughes

summary: when luke gets the wrong idea of your friendship with ethan you can't help but let your feelings for luke slip.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, underage drinking.

word count: 2.53k

authors note: just like that we are back with the regular fics! this one has been staring at me from my inbox for a while now so it felt right to get it done. I know a lot of you guys wanted it to be done in one part but it didn't feel like the vibes meshed well so due to that keep your eyes peeled for part two soon!

part two

Being Luke’s best friend was the role you had your entire life.

Your moms went to college together so when they learnt they were pregnant at the same time it was of course a matter of destiny. When you were five you moved to Toronto and ended up having Luke a treehouse away from you. Quickly the two of you got known as each others other half as you were never seen too far away from Luke and he the same with you.

Life came at you both quickly as you ended up forever in Luke’s corner and his number one fan who was now watching him almost live out his dreams. Both Quinn and Jack had paved the way for him to become the third Hughes brother in the NHL and Luke wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass him by.

Draft day was finally upon you both and it was suffice to say that Luke was a nervous wreck. You had been in Toronto still after he moved to Michigan.

It was tough on you both having to watch him leave you “I can come visit?” Luke’s proposal was honestly there to make him feel better too as tears formed in his eyes “you better.” You nodded pulling him into a hug as tears streamed down your face. Ellen and your mom couldn’t help but feel bad about separating you two as it now meant you were no longer y/n and Luke who do everything together. You were now going to have to be y/n and Luke who only see each other twice a year “I’ll text you when I land.” Luke offered making you nod “no you better call me!” To the untrained eye they would think you two had never left each others sides. But you had, and the two months he spent in Michigan over the summer two years ago were total hell for the both of you.

Jack and Quinn couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of their younger brother “dude you’ll see her in December!” Plans had already been made for you to spend Christmas with the Hughes family but not even that felt like enough “now move over and let us hug her.” Jack nodded in agreement as he ruffled his hand through your hair making you groan.

But life had found itself getting in the way of your friendship when you were in Greece the same summer of the draft. Luke was crushed when he realised that you weren’t meant to be back until the week after the draft “Luke honey could you get the door please?” Ellen called out as she heard the knock. With the pandemic it meant the draft was happening from peoples homes “why should I have to?” Luke groaned getting up as he saw that Quinn and Jack were both closer to the door.

Yet when Ellen sent her son an unimpressed look Luke knew that he was best to go and see what was up “yes I’m coming!” Luke complained rolling his eyes until he froze upon opening the door.

There you were with a golden tan that he was certain you got whilst in Europe “surprise?” You smiled bringing your hands up as you shrugged “what are you doing here?” Luke asked as he rubbed his eyes trying to see if he was dreaming or not as he looked at you “you really thought I’d let you get drafted without me here?” You laughed as you shook your head.

What you two didn’t notice was that Jack and Quinn were watching “just hug her you idiot!” Jack groaned as he rolled his eyes waiting to see you hug his brother. Luke didn’t wait for another second as he pulled you into a hug where he continued kissing your head like if he didn’t you would disappear.

The point was that through everything, even the draft, you were there. Even when you were both applying to university you were together.

It was a warm morning when you and Luke hopped onto a FaceTime call “you got your college?” You asked tucking your hair behind your ears as you smiled looking at him. You were in one of his old sweaters as you bounced your legs waiting for him to answer “yep.” He nodded shutting his door as you two agreed to only tell each other about your university applications until you accepted one.

Your moms agreed that it might sway your decisions about where you were going to go if you each knew what the other was doing “promise you wont get sad if I’m not at your college?” You teased making him scoff “I made peace with you not coming to Michigan months ago.” Luke rolled his eyes as your face dropped.

When you didn’t respond it made him raise his eyebrows “you didn’t apply to Michigan did you?” He blinked as you nodded “Umich.” You really didn’t remember the last time that Luke cheered the way that he did hearing you say that “me too!” It was one of those moments that you two seriously wished you were together so you could celebrate this.

Everyone laughed upon hearing the news that you and Luke were finally going to be back together. You were happy to have him back in your life sure. It was great having him back to only being a couple of minutes away from you. But what you never could have taken into account was that you would develop feelings for him.

Sure everyone predicted that it would eventually happen. Even Jack and Quinn were smart enough to know that this was on the cards for you and their brother. But not even having it in big bright letters would have made you believe it. Lo and behold though you were in the midst of watching your love grow strained as Luke found himself trying to get with other girls.

Every party came with Luke flirting with a new girl as he fully lived out his time as a college boy. It was clear he never wanted to settle down. With each new girl who took his attention it only seemed to land up with you hurt. And to top it all off Luke couldn’t even bother to pick up on it “you deserve better peach.” Ethan sighed as he pushed off of the wall to see you quietly nursing a beer.

It made you stare at the ground as you shook your head “doesn’t matter when it’s not what I want.” You had turned down every guy who looked at you since April of your freshman year. You thought that if you showed Luke that you wanted him then maybe, just maybe he would want you too “maybe you’re looking in the wrong place.” Ethan shrugged wanting you to see that you were wanted by someone who was right in front of you.

But as Luke’s laughter echoed in your ears you couldn’t help but shake your head “this is stupid.” You chewed at the inside of your cheek “I’m gonna go.” Ethan watched as you went to leave “let’s to do something tomorrow.” His offer made a smile form of your face.

You nodded as he squeezed your shoulder “I’ll text you the details then.” Ethan announced as if he didn’t already have something planned for his time with you.

The boys were leaving for Tampa the next day so of course the moment the final skate ended Luke was back in your dorm as he sat on your bed helping you get ready for this date. All of the dresses in your closet weren’t worthy as Luke stayed stolen for way too long before muttering something along the lines of “it’s okay.” Before he would point out something he didn’t like about it “since when do you dislike my entire closet?” You scoffed as Luke bought you two of the dresses that he had turned down.

Luke felt bile rise into his throat as he shook his head remembering how the last two hugged your body in all of the right places. It looked a little too good on you for Luke to even consider letting you wear it. If it was up to Luke he would have burnt the red satin fabric so nothing could see you in it again “why do you even care about looking good for Ethan?” Last night when he got back to the house Luke was less than impressed to hear about how Ethan was taking his best friend out.

The one and only rule Luke made the team agree to was that you were meant to be off limits. It had always been the rule amongst his teammates as Luke knew what some guys were like and you deserved better than that “I want to look good for myself.” You corrected him as you had been raised on the idea that dressing up for yourself meant more than dressing up for a guy who didn’t want you.

You hated how quiet Luke was as he sat cross legged on your bed with your duck plushy on his lap. Quacky was something he won for you when you guys were seven at the town fair. Quinn joked that it was your guys’ first chance at being parents to your child. At the time it was something that you brushed off as the sheer thought of becoming a mom especially to Luke’s kids. It actually made you laugh when you looked back on it, going from thinking that the boy had cooties to now having your world revolve around him had you feeling sick.

As you stared at Quacky, Luke couldn’t help but let his mind come out in the form of word vomit “if I didn’t know any better I’d say you like Ethan.” Luke teased watching the color drain from your face. It was the way that the smug look sat perched proudly on his face yet in actuality he was so far away from the truth that you almost wanted to laugh “not him.” You shook your head raking your fingers through your hair.

That answer made Luke feel sick as he raised his eyebrows trying to mask his surprise “is it Luca?” It was clear that the Fantilli boy had always had a thing for you from the moment he met you. The way he left himself tongue tied after most attempts to talk to you had everyone laughing in amusement as they teased him, well everyone but you did and Luke thought he finally knew the reason behind it.

You couldn’t help but pinch the bridge of your nose “Rutger is a guy that could be your type too.” Luke thought aloud as he nodded to himself remembering the times you went for tall blonde guys “no god dammit!” You snapped finally hitting your palm flat against your table as you rolled your eyes. You had to chew at the inside of your cheek in an effort to stop the tears from rolling in.

Part of you refused to let Luke see you like that and the other part of you knew you wouldn’t have enough time to fix your makeup. Once you let your floodgates open you knew they weren’t going to shut.

An irritated laugh left your lips as Luke clearly scanned your face as he grew concerned by your outbreak "you're the one I like!" You blurted out for the first time in your life leaving Luke absolutely speechless. It was crazy how five words could do that to someone you have known your entire life, the one person who is meant to know you better than you know yourself is left with their lips sealed shut and their eyes wide. As if that wasn't meant to bring you comfort already you instead opted to dig the hole you were forming around yourself deeper "which I don't know why I am telling you because it's not like you have even noticed it as you've got your head shoved so far up these girls asses that I'm pretty sure you could see the light of day if you looked hard enough." The efforts you made to not cry were officially thrown out of the window as you raised the back of your hand to wipe your cheek.

Still Luke didn't know what to say, honestly a little surprised that you felt so strongly about the girls he saw "which kills me because you really are a great guy but you aren't letting anyone, even yourself see it anymore!" You were going through an emotional roller coaster similar to grief as you now found yourself getting angry "Ethan saw that I was upset at the party and he said we should go out." Your words finally made sense to him as Luke finally found comfort in the fact that you were going out with one of his best friends in just under thirty minutes.

Your fists clenched as the boy remained silent now staring at the floor as he processed your confession making the room feel heavy "would you just say something please?" You begged as you went to touch his shoulder but the boy was quicker as he pulled away "I-I-I need to think." Luke shook his head as he got up, his ears were ringing and his skull felt like it was closing in on his brain. He was waiting for you to say that this was some kind of sick prank, some kind of joke. Like the YouTube videos where someone jumps out of the bushes with a camera, they reveal that it was all just some big setup.

But as tears streamed down your face and your lip began to quiver Luke felt the pit form in his stomach as reality sunk in. You were in love with him "I'm sorry." Luke didn't know what he was meant to say as he pushed past you when he went for the door of your dorm. He didn't dare look back as he could feel the sound of your sobs attack his heartstrings. Through your blurred vision, you reached for your phone when you collapsed onto the floor needing to call someone, literally anyone to talk to you. But in that moment you knew there was only one person that you could have spoken to "Ethan?" It wasn't clear why you were so hurt by this. You had prepared yourself for rejection as you knew you weren't Luke's type.

Yet even as you had done that, it still wasn't enough. That day Luke hadn't rejected you, but he also didn't tell you he felt the same way. It left you feeling like you were in this awful state of limbo going back and forth between the two options. But not even four days on, Luke no longer needed to tell you how he felt.

The radio silence and the message that you had to get from one of his brothers sealed his feelings towards you practically on the dotted line.

quinny 🧸: what do you think about Luke going to Jersey?

#luke hughes imagines #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #oneshots #hockey imagine #imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #umich fic #amber writes fics

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secretwritingspot · 6 months

Text

Too Much (Take Me Home)

Pairing: OPLA Sanji x Reader

Rating/Content Warnings: okay so I have no idea how to rate this. Like this is definitely not PG but it's also not really nsfw?? Honestly I'd recommend just reading the summary and deciding for yourself from there.

Summary: Reader is a sub who, due to the nature of y'know like being on a pirate ship constantly has not had a single chance to relax in weeks, especially since they don't really know any of their crewmates like that. Sanji steps in to save the day.

Disclaimer(s): so funny story - this is the single kinkiest thing I've written for this blog. And yet. It is also the least sexual thing I've written for this blog, that being not sexual at all. This is purely mentally-ill wish fulfillment emotional hurt-comfort d/s fluff. None of those words are in the bible but we persist nonetheless. A lot of d/s themes but like soft d/s if that makes sense, undernegotiated kink (there's definitely communication and it's p healthy but they're both idiots your honor), some petplay if you squint? Like not really but reader is on their knees and he calls them puppy a few times so do with that what you will.

There's a surprising amount of paperwork that comes with being the ship's chef.

One would think Sanji was always on his feet, whipping up something new- and yet here he is, late at night, sitting at a table that feels nautical miles away from where he really wants to be, the galley. But this was a part of the job- to catalogue ingredients, new recipes, what he could make and on what day for their supplies to last until the next town.

He's used to it being a solitary job, but then there's footsteps and a knock at the doorframe of his room and you walk in, shy uncertainty in your voice.

"...Sanji?"

You weren't sure about this, about any of this. But you were exhausted in a way that sleep couldn't fix, and it was obvious to you as to why.

You were a sub. There, you admitted it, got that embarrassing information out of the way as quickly as possible.

You - strong, strategic, stoic you - had been spinning out for the last few days. It had been too long since you'd been able to go under, since you'd joined the strawhats, to be precise, and it was starting to wear on you.

There was only so long you could go like this, tough and detached, protecting everyone else, taking care of the rest of your crew before yourself. It was constant, on the Merry. You really should've seen that coming with it being a pirate ship and all, but you felt like you had no room to breathe. Wake up, save the day, plan, eat and sleep only to keep your energy up to do it again the next day. You were always on, always performing the most capable version of yourself, and it was starting to wear you thin.

Sanji, for all his care and attention, hadn't seemed to notice. Even now, when you'd come to him like this. For that, a part of you was thankful.

He can't even hope to hide the way his face lights up when you walk in, quickly grabbing a towel next to him and wiping off his hands on instinct, like there should be oil or cooking wine or flour on them. There isn't, but other times there is. And there will be again, eventually. Better safe than sorry, he supposes.

"What could possibly bring such an angel down to me so late?"

He questions with a charming smile, cocking his head at you fondly. You roll your eyes at his immediate antics, blushing.

"Ah. Straight to business, huh?"

You laugh nervously, looking away and scratching the back of your neck with a sheepish blush.

"...can I stay with you? While you work?"

He squints at you curiously and then nods, smile blooming on his face the way it always does when you're around. For such a simple request, he doesn't know why you look so embarrassed.

Sure, the signs of embarrassment aren't as obvious on someone like you- but he can still see them. The way your eyes avoid his, the slight awkwardness in your stance as you shift on your feet.

"Of course, love. I'd never turn down your wonderful company."

You take a relieved breath and nod, looking down. For a moment you stand still, trying to make your feet move. Is this really such a good idea?

You take the leap before you can second guess yourself, walking over to where he sits at the desk. You pass the other seats and he squints curiously, having expected you to take one. Instead, you come straight to his, sinking down to your knees next to him and sitting back on your heels, resting your head on the side of his thigh.

Oh.

Oh, wow.

His eyes widen when you settle on the floor next to him, his face a pink hue as he looks down at you. Still, he didn't move. Instead, he gently brushes some of your hair back, looking at you with confusion.

"Are you...what are you doing, love?"

You swallow thickly, blinking your eyes back open to look up at him pleadingly, face pink.

"...can I stay here? I- I'll explain if you want, I promise, just...please."

He chuckles, an intrigued little smile gracing his features as he looks down at you nods. "Go ahead, explain. You can stay here as long as you'd like, darling."

"I need..."

You start to speak before backing up your explanation, embarrassment showing in the way your speech jumps back and forth between thoughts.

"I've been exhausted, recently. I'm sleeping fine, I just...sometimes I need to- to relax a certain, uh- a certain way. And since we've been on the ship, I haven't been able to, uh..."

You squeeze your eyes shut with embarrassment, taking a deep breath and turning to press your face against his thigh to hide your blush.

"...subspace. I'm- I'm a sub. And I haven't been able to go into subspace for a while, and I know this is a lot to ask you and I'm sorry, I just- I need to be like this for a while, please."

Immediately, your behavior starts to make sense. It would be hard to be a sub on a crew like this, constantly having to fight and stay in control. You likely haven't had the chance to submit to anyone in ages, if only for safety reasons. After all, you're all wanted. But with the natural way you dropped to your knees below him, put your head on his thigh like second nature, it all clicks.

He looks at you for a moment and blinks, his expression unreadable.

"...I think I understand what you mean. You want to be good for me, yes? I don't mind that, you know. You're quite pretty like this." He gently drags the back of his hand across your face with a smile before adding, almost as an afterthought, "Sweet thing."

You shiver at his words and nod in confirmation, letting your head fall back to the side to rest against his thigh.

This is...it's the last thing he'd expect from you, really. You're so tough and capable and independent, so the fact that you're a sub? The more he thinks about it the more it makes him blush- that someone like you was even capable of submitting, let alone craved it, let alone again would come to him, pleading for him to let you kneel at his feet for a while as he works. He gently runs a hand along your back, the corner of his mouth twitching as he smirks.

"I want you to stay like this until you're satisfied, alright darling?" He smiles and takes a look back at the paperwork on the table "...Are you comfortable there?"

You nod, heart fluttering when he says he wants you to stay like this until you feel better. It's sweet and gentle and so very Sanji, but at the same time, it sounds almost like an instruction. Like a command. It makes your cheeks flush and your mind stop whirring for a second in a way you'd missed so badly from when friends or partners who knew about your submissiveness back on land would put you under. The comfort of not having to think of anything besides doing what you're told- being good, always being good. You'd missed this.

"I need you to relax for me, okay? Just...focus on enjoying yourself, yeah? I have to get this work done, so I'm counting on you to stay right here. Can you do that for me?"

You nod almost immediately and he grins at the obedience, going back to his work with a satisfaction mirrored in you.

Something to do. A task. Something to be good at, good enough to make him proud. It settles your mind as you lean your head against him, the slight twinge of pain from kneeling on the wooden floor grounding you pleasantly.

He could get used to this, he thinks- you sitting at his feet next to him like a puppy, one of his hands scratching through your hair absentmindedly as he works through his paperwork and supply numbers. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as he works, the sound of parchment paper a pleasant constant. Your breathing was also rather soothing, a nice background to his quiet humming as he writes. He feels as though he could listen to it all night and never grow tired of it.

He makes a mental note of how each different touch effects you- cataloging your reactions, what you like, what seems to make your mind dissolve. He finds a particular sweet spot behind your ears that leaves you a shivering puddle when he scratches softly with his nails, a spot at the crown of your head that makes you purr, that any light touch closer to your neck provokes a wobbly, ticklish smile but that you don't make any move to stop him. You seem completely zoned out, dazed and pliant and warm under his fingers.

A minute passes like that, then five, then ten. He looks back down to check on you and feels his heart stall in his chest.

"Oh, darling..." He whispers softly, blushing at the sight of you. Hazy and dazed with near-reverence in your eyes. He stops writing, setting down the pen and reaching down to lift your chin up, looking you directly in the eyes.

"Look at me. Please."

You perch your chin on his thigh obediently to look up at him from your position on the floor. It's the most relaxed he's ever seen you- shoulders dropped like a tremendous weight's been lifted from you, limbs like lead as doe eyes blink up at him blearily, expression glazed-over and vulnerable and soft, softer than he thought you were capable of.

You were a tremendous warrior, someone feared across the seas, and yet your head was on his thigh, sitting at his feet below him.

You, who could kill him in a fraction of a second if you wanted.

He sighs, a little breathless. He's so tempted to lean down and kiss you, but he shakes his head slowly. Not now, not yet. There's something else he needs to do first.

His hand runs through your hair as he looks into your eyes almost like a nurse would with a concussed patient, checking up on you to make sure you're okay.

"Can you speak? It doesn't have to be a lot, just...say something for me, love."

"C'n speak."

You answer softly, obedient nearly to a fault, your usually confident voice gone soft and mumbly. It's perfect. Christ, all of it is perfect.

"'verything's just kinda...fuzzy right now. 's okay, it's nice."

His eyes are glued to you as his hand gently runs through your hair, scratching behind your ear. There's something on his mind, something he can't quite place or figure out yet.

"You look so beautiful right now." He admits gently, his voice still a low whisper. "Can you tell me why- why you're like this?"

Well, wasn't that a hell of a question? Why are you - always that emphasis in your head, though he doesn't mean it like that - of all people, why are you?

A few moments pass before you say anything. You don't really know what you would say, not until it's already coming out of your mouth.

"...cause 'm not allowed to be."

It's the only answer you can think of when you can finally convince yourself to speak.

"I- I have to know everything. All the time. Be in charge and make the tough decisions and stay on top of everything and make sure everyone's okay-"

The words come slowly at first, but the longer you speak the quicker they spill out, rambling like it's something that's been festering for weeks that you desperately need to get off your chest.

You cut yourself off with a deep breath when you realize the breakneck speed with which you're ranting, simplifying your answer down to it's most basic terms.

"...I don't get to be weak."

He can't help but feel his breath catch at that reply. "I don't get to", like it's something you want but aren't allowed. He can so easily see that side of you now that you mentioned it, but he'd always just ignored it. It seemed inconsequential. Like that part just...wasn't you.

It strikes him then that that was probably on purpose, on your part. You wanted them to disregard it.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he recontectualizes all your stress, all the moments of you snapping at the crew over little slights, the more curious he gets as to how and why you got to be like this in the first place.

"There isn't anything weak about this." he pushes back sternly as soon as he can get his voice to work. "This is...this is the most courageous thing I could imagine. I'm so proud of you."

The words hit you like a brick and you close your eyes, taking a shaky breath as they play on repeat in your head.

"I'm so proud of you."

You can feel yourself crumbling at his affection, the voracity of his care. How adamant he is about understanding that sometimes you just needed to be below someone else.

He cups your cheek in his hand softly, angling your face to look up at him. The more you let your guard down, the warmer his chest feels looking at you. He'd never seen you open up this much, it makes his heart ache. He smiles at the sight of you looking up at him so prettily, lightly tapping the tip of your nose.

"...there you are."

The words are barely a whisper, full of pride and admiration and pleasant disbelief. It's a shame how much you try to prove your strength, your resilience when there isn't a reason for it.

You'd always been enough for him. Always been strong enough, tough enough, useful enough. Always, always, always.

You'd never needed to be anything more than who you were, and getting to see you like this...it's like he's seeing you for the first time all over again.

"It's an honor to finally meet you."

All you can manage is a soft huff of breath, his words knocking the breath from your lungs. It's almost a sob, except that there are no tears. You have no idea why. Or why you almost sobbed in the first place. Why are there no tears?

"It's an honor to finally meet you."

The words cut through you like water. He still wants you? Even like this- emotionally stunted, a needy mess, pathetic and fragile and shaking?

"The way you are right now is nothing short of beautiful. Everything about you is lovely. It's...it isn't easy letting go like this, is it?" He muses, a hand resting on your hair, his thumb running along your face.

You sniffle quietly and blink back tears, nodding your head. It's progress even getting you to agree.

He knows you aren't upset by his words and so your unshed tears don't bother him. Knows that you aren't used to this, aren't going to be good at believing or accepting it immediately. He knows it'll take time to get to a place where words like that don't phase you anymore. So for now, your agreement is more than enough.

"...can we stay here for a while? Please?"

You break through his train of thought with a cautious whisper, voice small. A surge of pride shoots through him at your words, so fucking proud. If agreeing with his words is difficult, asking for what you want is worse. It's a hell of a first step.

"Of course we can. How long do you want to be like this, sweetheart?"

Ah. And there's the problem, isn't it? The "what do you want?" Really and truly, you have no idea.

"I don't mind much, it's..."

You trail off softly, hiding your face against his thigh in embarrassment as your blush spreads to the tips of your ears.

"...'s however long you want me to stay. It...it helps, letting you decide things for me."

The admission is a shy one, but it's not like it's something he couldn't've seen coming. It makes sense that instructions and praise would go hand in hand to make someone like you feel safe, small, protected.

"...I don't want you to move, okay?" He finally decides, lifting his hand from your hair to brush it behind your ear, fingernails scratching gently.

"Just let me take care of you for a while."

You take a deep breath at his words like the air's cleared for the first time in decades, finally having something to ground yourself on.

He makes a note of that in his head, too- you like a sense of order, when he makes decisions for you or gives you instructions to follow. Something simple that you can focus on even in your dazed, vulnerable state of mind, a task you can accomplish.

His hand continues to run through your hair gently, thumb making little figure 8's at the crown of your head.

"Do you want me to hold you? Or do you prefer being on your knees?"

He doesn't look at you when he asks, pen scratching away at his charts with his eyes on the table. Somehow, that helps- the idea that he's still working, that you're not too inconvenient of a distraction.

The simple choice you're given between two options makes everything feel easy and calm and hazy, and your voice is quiet when you answer.

"On- on my knees. Makes me feel more- more..."

You trail off, trying to explain but unable to find the words.

"More vulnerable." He finishes for you, smiling as it finally clicks. A position of submission, giving up your power to him.

Undoubtably, you're more vulnerable on your knees. You'd typically never let anyone near you in this state, not since you joined the strawhats, but with him, it feels...safe.

"I like it too." He admits, his hand still on you as his voice slowly trails off.

Your features smooth out in relief at his understanding and you nod, leaning into him and nuzzling his thigh for a moment to show your appreciation.

He has to look away for a moment, as seeing you nuzzle against him triggers an almost visceral reaction he wasn't expecting. His face flushes a bit more, a small smile brightening face as he leans in his chair, his expression adoring as he looks down at you. He reaches out for your ear, scratching gently at it with his fingernail.

You're so soft like this he swears he might fall in love.

"...can we do this more often, when you want to relax?"

Your eyes widen with a surprised blush at all the question as your brain shorts out for a moment.

He really...he's really willing to make this a regular thing? He isn't just doing this to humor you? It seems almost impossible to believe that this isn't some kind of weird burden you'd pushed onto him.

"...yeah. I'd- 'd like that."

You mumble breathlessly, clearing your throat as you look down.

He's already looking for another command, a simple task he can praise you for. Something about telling you what to do - you, who could slit his throat in an instant - he's quickly figuring out that he likes it. Quite a bit, actually.

He thinks back to the little things he's noticed about you- you prefer standing with your back to walls, facing the exit of whatever room you're in. You can only fall asleep when someone else on the crew is still awake. You're always chewing toothpicks, sucking on the end of your pen-

Wait.

Do you have an- could he- maybe...?

He hums in thought, grin spreading wider as he looks down at you once more. Gently, he lifts your chin so you're looking directly at him.

"Open your mouth," He instructs softly, almost in a whisper. Curious.

A soft blush blossoms across your ears but other than that you don't question it, far enough into subspace that all that matters is following instructions, being good. You don't even think before parting your lips obediently, looking up at him with those pretty doe eyes. Like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

Bingo.

It was an oral fixation, your constant need to suck on a toothpick or the end of your pen. He couldn't fully understand, but he could relate- he always felt safer with a cigarette in his mouth.

He gently pushes his thumb in your mouth, taking a deep breath as he waits for your reaction to the audacious move. You wanted him to make you feel small, safe, vulnerable. He's more than happy to do that for you.

At your service, now and always.

Your blush spreads out to your cheeks and your eyes widen a fraction in surprise, but as soon as you manage to process that he really just did that, you close your lips gently around his thumb, eyes glazing over as you look up at him for approval.

You're so beautiful when you're like this, all raw and vulnerable and desperate to be good. He hums, eyes glued to you with a loving gaze as he takes in just how stunning you are in this moment.

"Submission suits you." He praises softly, his voice almost a whisper. "You're so...so sweet like this. So lovely when you don't think so much, puppy."

The last word is meant jokingly, gently poking fun at the way you're kneeling next to him, head on his thigh. Your reaction, though...that throws him. The way you squeeze your eyes closed and your blush darkens to a pure pink when he calls you "puppy", the way he can feel you whine around his thumb at the term as you melt, shoulders slumping- and that's certainly interesting, isn't it?

"Aww, puppy likes that, doesn't she?"

He can't help but smile as he takes his thumb out of your mouth for a moment before pushing two fingers in instead. Your cheeks flush when he does so, those puppy dog eyes glancing back at him with so much emotion it's almost overwhelming. The name is fitting, he supposes.

You flush further with embarrassment, though you know it makes no logical sense. Your mind doesn't seem to want to quiet itself, echoing judgements of your current position- weak, needy, pathetic. The shy feeling of poorly restrained shame claws up your chest even as you try to dismiss it. You shouldn't feel so embarrassed by this- Sanji clearly isn't bothered by it, doesn't think it's odd, hell, if anything he seems like he's enjoying himself. Yet you, brain all tied up in knots, can't seem to look at him.

So instead you try to focus on other things, like the comforting contrast of the warmth from his fingers and the cool metal of his ring pressing down softly on your tongue.

He can sense the embarrassment from you, though he can't understand it. He'd seen you at your worst, and this certainly wasn't it.

"...there's nothing wrong with allowing someone to take care of you, you know. I actually quite like seeing you like this." He says, the words falling out of his mouth before he even thinks.

Almost as if they'd been waiting to come out this whole time.

His reassurance only makes your blush intensify, but this time it's not bad.

It isn't shame, not really. It's more pleasantly flustering. If embarrassment were a spectrum, this...feeling would fall on the 'good' end of it.

Sensing it's a vulnerable topic, he lets the reassurance hang, not giving you enough time to think about it before changing the subject with a fond, knowing chuckle.

"You like the ring, don't you?"

He doesn't say, 'it gives you something to focus on so your mind doesn't wander too far' or 'the temperature brings you back down and grounds you here away from those nasty thoughts', but you both know that's what it is.

There's something warm in the way he so nonchalantly reveals that he's been cataloging every little detail of your reactions- the spot behind your ears, the fact you like being called 'puppy', and now the fact that you like the feeling of his ring pressing down on your tongue. Your mind is in enough of a submissive haze that you can't bring yourself to lie to him, instead nodding your head in agreement.

A small, fond smile graces his lips as his thumb moves up to your lower lip, gently prodding at your chin to bring your attention back to him.

"You can take breaks if you want. I know the ring's cold."

His voice is a warm, intimate whisper, eyes watching every movement you make, every twitch and hum catalogued in his mind.

The care in it makes your heart feel warm and you keep his fingers where they are, nipping lightly at him for a moment as if to let him know without words that you're enjoying this, that you don't need a break. It's so fucking cute his heart melts.

He can't help himself any more, pulling his fingers from your mouth. You nearly whine at the loss but then - then, oh, then - he presses a small, soft kiss to your lips and the whole world falls apart, his lips pressed tenderly to you as if you're something so much more than the sum of your parts. Your mind works on overdrive- it's such pure affection and approval and he kissed you, so that means you must've been good, right? That he was proud?

Little do you know, he's just as in awe as you are. In awe that you're really here with him, like this. That you'd ever let him do this. Everything about you is special to him, special because it's yours. Just like your eyes, the sound of your voice, the heart beating erratically in your chest. Before he can think about it he's pulling his ring off his finger, wiping the remains of your spit from it, and sliding it gently on your ring finger.

You cock your head up at him and squint in confusion and he smiles, voice soft like he's afraid anything stronger than a whisper would break the moment he's worked so hard for.

"Keep it, puppy. Then, next time you...need my help like this, you can give it back to me. Yeah?"

He punctuates his words by lifting your hand up like it's precious, placing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles.

The promise sparks a warmth in your chest, the casual mention of "next time" like there's no doubt at all in his mind that there will be a next time, the way he touches you like you're fragile, stares at you with pink cheeks and blown eyes like you're the sun and the moon and all the pinpoints in the night sky.

You should've jumped overboard when you had the chance, you think, because you've ended up drowning either way.

Eventually you can convince your muscles to work enough to nod, face blooming in fireworks of pink and orange and red as your words come back to you, though your voice is still small and hazy and breathless.

"...yeah, okay. Next time."

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