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strang3lov3 · 4 months

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Lather

(Inspired by our curly, long-haired Pedro with his broken wing) When Joel injures his shoulder, he needs your help washing his hair and getting off 🧴🧻💦🧼🚿🛀(4k)

Part one of a new mini series!!

Tags- shoulder injury, forced proximity, hair washing, handjobs, blowjobs, Joel finishes little too early, sexual tension, masturbation, pissed off joel, impish reader as per ushe. Joel starts out soft and gentle, this will not last long. Just you wait for part two, mwahahahahah!!

A/N- This new series is written for and inspired by my very dear friend @noxturnalpascal , please do not eat Pedro’s fucking hair. I’m begging you. And thank you @tightjeansjavi for the title name!!

Generously edited by my dear friend, the lovely @papipascalispunk

You’re at the dinner table, watching Joel awkwardly cut his chicken and potatoes with the side of his fork, held by his left hand. He brings the food to his mouth kind of slowly, deliberately, like he has to consciously think about where his fork will end up. He catches your watchful gaze and looks at you, “What?”, he scowls.

You shrug, “Nothing.”

“Quit lookin’ at me,” he huffs, “Creep.”

You’ve been living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie for quite some time now. Ellie’s got the garage and the downstairs bathroom to herself, you and Joel live in separate bedrooms upstairs. It works out. Kind of. The stairs are an issue. They’re old and steep, kind of slippery. It was only a matter of time before someone slipped and fell, and last week, that’s exactly what Joel did. Early one morning, he had misstepped and totally ate shit, landing hard on his right shoulder. You rushed to help him, but Joel shrugged you off, insisting he was fine. But you could hear in his voice he wasn’t, how he strained to speak. And in the following days, you noticed how his routine changed in the aftermath of his injury. He’s been favoring his right arm heavily, eating, cooking, opening doors, picking things up all with his left hand, rarely his right.

Ellie gets up from the table to rinse her plate. When she passes you and Joel on her way back to the garage, she stops next to Joel and just stares at him, a look of confusion and disgust on her face. She reaches her hand forward, pushing her fingers slowly through his hair and watching the curls stand up straight. Joel freezes before turning to look at her, perplexed and irritated. “What’s the matter with you?”, he asks.

“Gross,” Ellie giggles, still playing with his hair. He swats her hand away.

“Yeah, shut up,” Joel grumbles, “You’ll have gray hair one day too. It ain’t that funny.”

“I’m not talking about the color. Your hair is disgusting, Joel. It’s like, sticking straight up. Are you hydrophobic or something?”

“Leave me alone,” Joel tells her, “Go do something. Go play in traffic.”

“You smell like you’re hydrophobic,” Ellie retorts as she continues towards her room.

You turn your attention back to Joel, who looks insulted. Subtly, he turns his nose to his armpit to smell himself and then checks his reflection in the window, using his left hand to mess with his curls. He notices you staring at his reflection as well, “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”, he asks defensively as he messes with his hair a little more, flipping the mess to one side of his head, then to the other, rubbing the strands between his fingers. Joel sighs deeply then, gets up from his seat, and – using his left arm – he drags his chair across the kitchen and sets it in front of the kitchen sink. “I need help,” he confesses in a tone hardly audible, like he’s sheepish and uncomfortable. Disappointed, too.

“What?”

“Washin’ my hair,” he speaks louder this time, “It’s hard with my uh…shoulder. I need your help.”

“Took you long enough to as–”

“Knock it off,” he interrupts. It was probably around day four post-staircase incident that you noticed Joel’s hair taking on a more dirty appearance. You stare at his hair a lot lately now that he’s growing it out for winter. His hair curls in all sorts of directions, little cowlicks all over his head. The ringlets at the bottom of his neck are your favorite part. How gorgeous they look with the multitude of colors on his head. Deep, chocolatey brown with highlights of caramel and silvery gray streaks. With resources being fairly scarce even in Jackson, Joel doesn’t wash his hair every day, which is honestly fine for him. However, the days that he does wash his hair, he struggles to scrub his scalp properly with just his left hand, hence the dirty and greasy appearance. And really, it doesn’t look that bad. Probably feels worse for him, though, all that schmutz built up. Probably itchy and uncomfortable.

You take your plate to the kitchen sink and give it a quick wash before drying it and putting it away. Joel sits in the chair he’s placed in front of the sink, and reaches behind himself for the dish soap, then kind of just puts it in your hand. You look at Joel, tilting your head in confusion. Sure, it's slim pickings for resources, but there’s a reason you’re close with the soapmaker here in Jackson. It’s the little things that keep you going; one of the little things being fruity scented shampoo that the soapmaker hooks you up with.

You place the soap back on the kitchen counter and leave quickly to grab your shampoo, then come back to meet Joel at the sink. Joel looks at the bottle of shampoo in your hand, “What the hell is that?”, he asks.

“My shampoo. It smells kinda like strawberries, see?”, you open the cap and squeeze the bottle to waft the scent towards him.

Joel scrunches his nose, “It’s too girly.”

“You’re too girly,” you taunt, and Joel rolls his eyes. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m washing your hair, so I get to pick the shampoo. It’s like a spa night,” you chirp happily.

“Nope, not a spa night,” he replies harshly, “Just wash my damn hair. No funny business.” When you stare down at him, unimpressed with his attitude, Joel backtracks, “Please,” he begs.

“Spa night.”

“Fine,” Joel sighs in defeat and leans his head back into the sink, scooting down the chair. He looks deeply uncomfortable already, putting his weight on the left side of his body and raising his shoulder up and away from resting on the sink. Poor guy. You turn on the sink and begin to run the water over his scalp with the detachable faucet, but Joel yelps in pain. “Hot, s’ way too hot,” he says loudly, craning his neck away from the stream.

“Sorry,” you apologize, quickly turning the faucet lever in the other direction.

“Cold, cold, Christ—cold,” Joel hisses as he reaches behind himself to try to haphazardly adjust the lever himself, swatting his hand violently. He ends up hitting your hand instead, resulting in you dropping the faucet on his forehead. He yelps again and quickly sits up straight, water flinging across the room from his wet hair. “This isn’t gonna work,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Think we need to get this over with in the shower.”

“I think that’d work better,” you agree.

So, you and Joel make your way upstairs, you’ve got your fruity shampoo in your hand. Joel’s wet hair drips down his neck and back as you follow him towards the bathroom where he turns on the shower, letting the water warm up. He shuts and locks the bathroom door before unbuttoning his flannel, again with his left hand only. Turning away from you, you watch Joel twitch and wince in pain as he tries to take off his undershirt. It kind of makes you sad, seeing him struggle like this. You wish he would have asked for help before now. “Joel?”, you tap his back.

“Hm?”, Joel turns around and you reach his right arm. “Oh,” he says. Carefully, you do your best to painlessly help him out of his shirt, pulling his sleeve towards your body and keeping his arm as low as can be. You pull the rest of the shirt off of his body, catching a glimpse of his torso, his soft, pillowy belly. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

“No problem.”

“I uh–,” Joel begins, turning away from you again and undoing his belt, “I’m gettin’ undressed and gettin’ in, okay?”

“Am I getting in there with you?”

“I’d reckon that’s probably easiest, yeah. And if ya don't wanna get your clothes wet, then you can take 'em off too,” Joel offers, “I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, so I'm keepin’ my eyes shut and facin’ the shower head the whole time so I don’t see anything I'm not ��sposed to.”

“I appreciate that,” you reply. You’ve been through a lot with Joel, and truth be told, you’re both past the point of modesty, all that you’ve been through together. You have endless trust and respect for each other. Still though, you appreciate what he’s doing to keep you feeling safe and comfortable with him. A lot can be said about Joel, but he’s never been anything but respectful and considerate towards your safety and comfort. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “I’ll undress. Just give me a minute.”

“Not a problem,” Joel says. You face away from him as he takes off his belt, it lands with a clatter on the floor. Next his jeans and boxers, then each of his socks. You hear the sound of the shower curtain moving and his heavy footsteps in the bathtub. “M’done. Eyes stayin’ closed now.”

“Okay,” you say as you look at Joel through the shower curtain, unable to see much. You have no doubt he is, in fact, squeezing his eyes shut, but you smile to yourself when you notice where his arms lie. They’re resting across his body, his hands cupping his member securely. Oh, Joel. He’s a grump, but a gentleman nonetheless.

After taking off your own clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor, you move the shower curtain aside and step inside of the tub. It’s a tight fit, despite being relatively spacious. There’s a built-in bench to the side of the shower where your soaps sit. Joel always complains you have too many lotions and potions taking up space, that they always fall on his toes when he bathes. Dramatic.

Immediately you’re in awe of Joel’s beauty. You can’t see his face, but you can see his back, freckled and scarred and striped with stretch marks here and there. Water trails down his neck and his spine. You can’t help but steal a peek of his ass, so firm and plump. He’s blessed, truly.

“Doin’ okay?”, Joel interrupts your thoughts.

“Oh– yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Gonna shampoo you now.”

“Get to it,” he tells you.

You reach for your strawberry shampoo and squeeze a small amount into the palm of your hand, then reach up to lather it into Joel’s scalp. “I need you–”, using your hands to guide Joel to tilt his head back, “Yeah, like that. Thanks.”

“Mm,” he hums in response.

You begin to wash Joel’s hair, building up a thick lather of bubbles. You pay special attention to the sides of his head, down towards his neck, scratching and massaging his scalp. It’s almost imperceptible, but you hear a slight groan, a soft exhale of relief as you scrub Joel’s head. Washing the hair near his neck, you toy with his curls, wrapping them around your fingers and watching them bounce and swing when you pull your hands away. You’re about to reach for more shampoo when you really see it– the bruise on his shoulder. It’s yellowing now, but there are still purple and blue splotches of his skin. “Fuck, Joel,” you mumble, tracing your fingers lightly over his bruise.

“Yeah, yeah.”

It was an accident. You know this, so you’ll spare Joel from your long-winded lecturing about taking care of himself. Instead, you just press a soft kiss to his bruise.

“You– I um–”, Joel clears his throat, a little bashful now, “Need you to wash up by my hairline, f’ya wanna come up front here.”

“Yeah, of course,” you speak softly. You begin to scoot past Joel, but the tight fit of the two of you in the shower makes it difficult to move. You slip and reach for Joel’s arm.

“Careful,” he warns you softly, “Here, I gotcha.” Joel, still keeping his eyes shut, holds your waist and helps guide you to stand in front of him. When you’re situated, he quickly protects his modesty once again.

You grab some more shampoo and reach for the front of his scalp. This time, you can admire more of him. His face, eyes scrunched tightly shut. Careful not to look at what he’s not supposed to. That little line between his eyebrows is more deep and prominent than usual. Water drips down the slope of his aquiline nose and his plump, rosy lips. Droplets cling to his wiry salt and pepper facial hair. He’s a work of fucking art. When Joel’s properly shampooed, you reach for the detachable shower head and start to rinse his hair, watching the strands fall on his forehead.

You’re not sure exactly what happens, but in an instant, Joel is unexpectedly groaning and reaching for the shower head from your hand. You step back and watch him scramble to wipe his eyes and blink quickly. “Fuckin’, ahh,” he hisses, “Got soap in my eyes. Jesus.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“S’okay, was an accident. Fuck,” Joel hands you the shower head and then wipes his eyes a few more times before he stops and stares at you before him, not even thinking about his rule. Fuck. He shuts his eyes quickly, but the damage is done. His mind is swimming with images of your body, the drops of water rolling down the curves of your breasts, your hips, thighs. His cock hardens almost instantly, and he hurries to cover himself again. “Fuck. I’m sorry. It’s not cause of you.”

“Okay, Joel,” you reply calmly.

Joel groans. “No, it’s not like that, you– you’re– it’s…My shoulder’s been hurtin’, y’know how it’s been.”

“Mhm,” you hum, knowing where he’s going with this, “It’s okay.”

“Haven’t been able to take care of myself, uh…in that regard,” Joel clears his throat before continuing, “So I’m just a little wound up– oh–”

Joel’s interrupted when you step forward, reaching for his wrists to pull them away from his member. “I get it,” you whisper, “I can help with that too, if you’d like.”

“Jesus, fuck–”, Joel hisses as you touch his hips, his thighs, skating your fingers along his skin. He moans softly when your fingers lightly touch his heavy balls, the base of his cock, then trailing them up his shaft. “Quit– fuck – quit teasing me, hon. Not a smart idea.”

“I’m not teasing you, Joel.”

Except Joel’s not listening. All he can think about is how fucking good it feels to be touched where he needs it most. He reaches for your hand, but doesn’t pull it away. Like he’s at battle with himself, doing what he thinks he’s supposed to do, not that he actually wants to. He wraps his fingers around yours, encouraging you to grip his cock tightly. But with his brow furrowed, he looks conflicted. “Don’t know what’s gotten into ya, but–”, he says shakily, “Hon– you gotta stop cause, fuck–”, he breathes, “Don’t think I have it in me– fuck – to walk away from you.”

“You don’t have to, Joel,” you coo quietly as you grip his cock tighter. You lean closer to Joel, wrapping one of your arms around his waist. Joel opens his eyes then, and you kiss his cheek, still stroking his cock. His thick head is nudging your hip as you work him, “Why don’t you let me help you with this?”

Joel nods, sighing in relief as he gives into you, gives into pleasure. He’s been hard as a rock all week. Left hand just doesn’t do the trick, but yours, your hand does just fine. “Lord have mercy,” he gasps, “Thank you.” Rubbing your hand up and down his cock, you kiss his neck, then lower, his collarbones and his chest. Lower still, sinking to your knees as you kiss down that soft and pillowy tummy of his, trailing your tongue along that patch of hair that leads to his cock. You take his thick base in one hand and his ass in the other, then press sloppy kisses to his blushed tip, flicking your tongue over his soft skin. “Sweetheart,” he warns softly, “Doin’ too much for me.”

“I don’t think so,” you tell him innocently before trailing your tongue along a prominent vein of his cock.

“I disagree,” he mumbles quietly. Oh, Joel. Silly Joel. As if you’d satisfy him with just your hands. But this is as much for you as it is for Joel. You’ve spent a lot of time daydreaming about him, kissing him and fucking him. He’s who you think about at night with your hand between your thighs. So no, taking him in your mouth is not too much. It’s what you both need.

Joel hums sweetly as you guide him to your mouth, his thick head parting your lips. You toy with him, swirling, flicking your tongue, alternating between taking him deeply and more shallow in your mouth. He’s warm and thick, just like you imagined. His cock feels heavy in your mouth as you take him deeper and deeper, hollowing your cheeks to massage him. You love his smooth skin, how he squirms and his hips stutter when you slide his cock to the back of your throat. As he gains more confidence, he begins to draw in and out of your mouth slowly, an action encouraging to both you and himself.

“Good god,” Joel groans as you work his shaft, one hand still squeezing his ass cheek, the other now fondling his balls, cupping and squeezing them gently. You hum against him, sending vibrations down his shaft. He reaches down, stroking your cheek with soft and warm eyes as you work him. His hand finds the back of your head, grunting as he inches you forward to take him deeper.

“Not lastin’ long the way you–”, he chokes out, a stuttered string of profanities following as you feel his cock stiffen and twitch under your tongue, spurting hot ropes of his spend down your throat. It’s salty and warm and masculine, taking you by surprise. His orgasm surprises himself, too. You don’t mind, though. In fact, it’s flattering the way he’s come undone for you so quickly, so desperately. Poor Joel, so worked up and bent out of shape all week. Probably part of the reason he’s been so cranky.

He takes heaving breaths above you, his chest rising and falling steadily as he stares down at you in admiration. He’s got the kindest eyes. When you pull off of his cock, he offers his hand to you, helping you back to your feet. He thanks you again, then apologizes for finishing how he did. You assure him that you don’t mind a bit. “M’not gonna leave ya high and dry, you know,” he says, “You just give me a few days to get myself right and I’ll take good care of you. Return the favor and all that good stuff. Hm?”

Sure, Joel, you think, nodding to him. He nods back at you, feeling good and satisfied, already dreaming about getting you off in a few short days. How soft and wet your pussy will be, pulsing around his cock, all for him. He’ll make you come just as hard as he did, if not harder. He can see it now, he’ll have you falling to pieces under his tongue and his fingers. He just needs to fucking heal first. While Joel’s been favoring his right arm quite a bit, he still hasn’t been taking it as easy as he should have been. But he’s got a woman waiting on him now, and healing is his top priority.

Joel smiles, you smile sweetly back at him as you wrap an arm around his waist for stability and set one of your feet on the ledge of the bathtub. His smile contorts into a confused frown as he watches you take your free hand and snake it between yours and Joel’s bodies, your fingers toying with your center. “Whatcha doin’?”, Joel asks.

“Oh, you know,” you reply plainly. You sigh softly, tilting your head back as one of your fingers circles your hole.

“No, no, no, no,” Joel protests, “No, thought you were gonna wait your turn.”

“My turn’s right now,” you breathe, now dipping a finger into your entrance, curling it and swirling it around. “You’re not the only one with needs.”

“I know you got needs, hon, thought we just agreed I’d be the one to take care of ‘em,” he tries, “Right?”

“It’s alright,” you purr, “I got it.”

It’s almost cartoonish, how Joel’s expression turns from one of satisfaction and bliss to betrayal and astonishment. “I don’t like this,” he mutters, “It’s teasin’ me, you know.”

“Oh, Joel,” you whimper softly, your fingers now rubbing over your clit, “What don’t you like?”

“Uh, that,” he spits, “Don’t like hearin’ you moanin’ my name when I’m not the one touchin’ ya. Don’t like that at all.”

You pout, “Oh, you can touch me,” you offer as you take his left hand into your own, sliding it up your body. He thumbs the plump underside of your breast and glides his fingers over your nipple, feeling it harden beneath his touch.

“Oh, real nice. You’re playin’ dirty,” he accuses, “You’re nothin’ but trouble. Shoulda known.”

You don’t bother replying as you begin to trace steady circles into your clit, dipping your fingers at your entrance to collect more of your arousal. Your fingers slip and slide through your folds with such ease.

Joel growls, squeezing your breast harshly one last time before his arm finds your waist and he pulls you flush against his body. With your head still tilted back as you whimper quietly, Joel takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, biting and nipping at your hot, dampened skin. It only fuels you. “Joel,” you cry, “Fuck, oh my god,” as that warm, sticky feeling deep in your gut is beginning to build.

Joel watches you, conflicted. How sweet his name sounds falling from your lips with your broken, honeyed moans, but Jesus, he needs to be the one touching you like that, not you. He should have known it’d turn out this way, that you’d revel in having this one-up on him. Your fucking audacity. I made you come so hard you saw stars, and I’m doing the same thing to myself. And you can’t do a single thing about it. Ha. Ha.

Joel holds you tighter when your cries begin to get louder as you reach your peak, your knees beginning to buckle. You moan frantically, loudly, and Joel watches you knit your brows together and your mouth drops open as you begin to fall apart. Your fingers massage your clit faster, harder, feeling that tension in your gut snap and splinter as waves of pleasure overtake you, washing over your body. With your eyes shut, you feel it deep in your stomach, down the back of your thighs, riding out your orgasm on your own fingers as Joel holds you close to his body.

When you finally open your eyes, Joel’s glaring at you. He says nothing. Deep down, he knew you’d probably end up taking care of yourself tonight, but in front of him? You’ve got some fucking nerve.

When your breathing slows, Joel lets you go. He stares at you, unimpressed, mouth slightly agape. You take the opportunity to slide two of your fingers past his lips, letting him taste your sweet arousal on his tongue. His brows furrow and his eyes flutter shut as he groans deeply, hungrily. “Seriously?”

You nod with a smile, then press a quick kiss on his lips before shimmying past him to reach for your towel. You dry off and step out of the tub, and when you look back at Joel, he wears a scowl.

“You’re the fuckin’ devil.”

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal x reader

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zooophagous · 1 month

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I see a post, that asks the question "you are now married to your phone background, how fucked are you?"

I close the app and look. When was the last time I considered my phone background? I can't even remember it.

On the screen before me is a purple wildflower, a bergamot, or "bee balm" plant, photographed in North Dakota in 2019 in a family member's back yard.

I am married to a bergamot. She is tall and shapely, moreso than myself, though her choice of purple raiments matched closely my own. She is my favorite color. Maybe that's how we met? Why I decided to woo her?

My wife the bergamot is a socialite. She has more friends than I. Every morning she gossips with a cabbage white butterfly, and cruelly shares their secrets with the rusty patched bumblebees, who compete for her affections with the domesticated aapis mellifera, which trail at her purple coattails like lapdogs.

Her favorite friend, however, is the ruby throated hummingbird. More insect than avian though it does contain a vertebral column, it iridesces like green beetle wings and in my heart I feel jealousy as my bergamot bride and the hummingbird kiss.

I sit with her for a season. Under the sun and the heat and the biting flies. She is covered in dewdrops and in spiders. I spare her from caterpillars and lavish my affections on her with a cup of water.

The world turns at last to its cool side, my bergamot changes her purple coat to her dusty toned night gown. She lies down to sleep and is buried beneath a bed of fresh snow come October.

Love so fleeting, marriage so brief, could I forget my bergamot and move on? Could my love be perennial and evergreen even when my beloved is not? It is winter and my bride is dead. How fucked am I?

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moonlinos · 3 months

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Call my bluff, call you ‘babe’

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers, fluff

♡ CW: Implied smut, alcohol consumption. Twenty solid seconds of angst, but it doesn’t even really count. It’s just tooth-rotting fluff.

♡ Word count: 5.5k

♡ Synopsis: Minho has been your best friend since you two could barely form coherent sentences. He was there when your last baby tooth fell, he was there when you failed your high school exams, and he was there as you walked down the aisle.

♡ A/N: This was going to be just word-vomit fluff to make me cry, but I couldn’t control myself and before I knew it there were… so many words.

You were four years old when you met Minho. It was the first day of kindergarten, and you were assigned seats together. The entire day was spent with you chatting to every kid you could reach from your seat while Minho quietly sat painting and doodling by your side. You vaguely remember thinking he was odd and whining to your mom about how your seatmate was boring, and that was why he was the only kid in class you didn’t talk to. She smiled and told you maybe you should make an effort to talk to him. That same day, you racked your little brain for a reason why your seatmate might be so quiet and promptly decided that he was too shy to start a conversation himself. You then asked your mom if the fact that you didn’t talk to him might have made him sad, to which she hesitated, and that was enough to have your bottom lip wobbling.

You remember tears streaming down your cheeks as you frantically sobbed, inconsolable at the fact that your seatmate was sad and that it was partially because of you.

The next day, you asked if Minho would like to use your special glitter pens — you even told him you wouldn’t mind if he used your favorite colors. That was really all that was needed to plant the bud of friendship between you two.

Ever since that day, you two slowly became inseparable.

You attended the same elementary school after begging your parents, writing a very concise list of reasons why you two could not possibly be separated. Reasons such as the fact that Minho still didn’t know how to tie his shoelaces, so it would be dangerous for him to be alone in a new school. Or the fact that you were always losing your gloves, and Minho always carried an extra pair in his backpack just for you, so you would surely catch a cold if you didn’t have him beside you during winter.

All extremely valid reasons.

Minho began walking you home from school when you were both nine years old. He was often left alone due to his parents’ work schedules, which made him become the most street-smart kid in your class. You had to beg your mom for a week, but she ultimately caved in.

Your favorite thing to do on your way home was to stop randomly and doodle on the sidewalk with chalk, with Minho joining you in no time. You even had your favorite little sketching spot — right in front of a nice old lady’s flower shop, where you two would spend far too much time decorating her entrance pavement with flowers, rainbows, and smiley faces. She would later introduce herself to you, Ms. Kim, and would always thank you both with a flower of your choice. You always picked tulips, and Minho always picked daisies.

On one hazy winter day, you and Minho were eager to adorn the flower shop’s entrance with a new set of doodles since the ones you had done just yesterday got covered in snow. As you two did your best to dig through the piled-up snow with your gloved hands, you suddenly felt something hard slide down your throat. Your hands stilled, and you turned to look at Minho with wide eyes.

“What happened?” He asked. “Did you lose your glove in the snow this time?”

You shook your head frantically, careful not to swallow. “Teeth,” you simply said.

Minho looked at you like you were crazy, squinting his eyes as he studied your face. “What?”

You felt tears well up, and he immediately abandoned his mission of shuffling through the snow before pulling you into a big hug.

“Why are you crying? Don’t cry. I hate when you cry, I feel weird when you cry,” He said, but no tears left his worried eyes. Minho never cried, that was something you had learned a while back.

You, however, cried until Ms. Kim noticed you two from the window, cooing as she approached you two with a gentle smile. You tried your best to explain your predicament. Minho sat with you behind the wooden counter, holding your hand in his, the smell of flowers making everything feel less catastrophic than it did ten minutes earlier.

Ms. Kim explained that you had no reason to cry, as it was normal for kids to swallow their baby teeth. And you remember harshly shaking your head and explaining with a trembling voice that you hadn’t cried because of that. You had cried because that was your last baby tooth, which meant you were officially a grown-up. You didn’t want to be a grown-up. Minho wasn’t a grown-up yet, with his last baby tooth still holding on proudly in his gums. You didn’t want to be a grown-up all alone; it would be terrible and sad.

That afternoon, you two went home together in silence, your respective flowers clutched in your hands. Minho was never good with words. Sadness engulfed him because he couldn’t do enough to make his best friend smile again. What was the point of a best friend if they didn’t make you laugh when you were crying?

Minho walked into school the next day with a proud smile on his face before placing his last baby tooth on your desk. You eyed it curiously, brows furrowed.

“There, I took it off last night,” He simply said. “Now we’re gonna be grown-ups together.”

At eleven years old, your daily after-school video game appointments began.

You had just cut your hair short; a bob you thought looked cute on your favorite singer turned out to be cataclysmically unflattering on you. And, at eleven years old, it was earth-shattering and definitely the end of your life (despite what your mother told you).

You spent every second out in public with your hair hidden by a beanie, hoping it would distract people from your disastrous haircut.

Except it had the opposite effect.

One particular day at school, a boy came up to you simply to inform you that your head looked like a mushroom before running away, laughing with his friends. They were foolish words spoken by a foolish boy, but you were eleven. Once again, earth-shattering and the end of your life.

You avoided everyone the entire day — including Minho, whom you always talked to no matter your mood. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him for much longer, seeing as he walked you home every day, so you simply prayed he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes or that he at least hadn’t heard any of the other kids making unfunny jokes about your haircut.

After school, Minho sighed in feigned annoyance when you told him you had lost your gloves again before retrieving a pair from his backpack. Like a habit, you asked if he wanted to hang out at your house, although the answer was always unchanging.

“My mom’s baking a cake,” you told him. “We can play video games and then eat it together.”

Minho hummed in agreement, adjusting his backpack before grabbing your hand as you two began your daily walk to your house. It was something you always did, never walking anywhere without your hands clasped together. These past few months, however, this once ordinary gesture had begun making your heart beat faster. You didn’t understand why, and you would rather not think about it because every time you did, the words from your other friends would echo inside your head. Their stories about how they felt their hearts racing when their crush had hugged them or even looked their way, making you question if maybe…

But it couldn’t be. Minho was your best friend. How could he be your crush?

It was another one of those afternoons, your mom busily making you two sandwiches as you and Minho played New Super Mario Bros on your Wii under the blanket fort you always meticulously built. Minho had been acting weird all day — even weirder than you, who had to endure all the asinine jokes and hurtful words from your peers. As you completed the last level for the umpteenth time, saving Princess Peach, Minho all but threw his controller to the side. You turned to shoot him a questioning look, which went ignored as he rummaged through his backpack.

He retrieved a crumpled-up piece of paper, which he promptly gave to you.

You cocked your head, awaiting some sort of explanation, but Minho simply picked up his controller once more and hit play on the game.

Unfolding the paper, words greeted you in Minho’s messy handwriting.

YOUR HAIR LOOKS CUTE. STOP HIDING IT.

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything to him, Minho reached out and snatched your beanie from your head. Your short hair and bangs cascaded onto your face, partially obscuring your view. But you could still make out his side profile, where a faint smile appeared on his lips.

After that, you two were silent for the rest of the day, eventually dozing off under the tent lulled by the sound of your mother’s hand mixer and Mario’s theme song. The sun eventually set outside the window, and you woke up to two plates of your mother’s cake waiting for you on the coffee table.

From that point on, your beanie was left forgotten inside your drawer.

You were fifteen when you realized that perhaps your feelings for Minho weren’t all that platonic after all.

It all started with a letter on Minho’s desk on a rainy Friday. October 25th, Minho’s birthday.

Minho’s quiet nature hadn’t changed one bit since you first sat beside him at four years old. He would rather die than start a conversation, rarely went out to the movies with your friend group and, most importantly, hated being the center of attention. That was why he told no one about his birthday since you two began high school this year. It was the subject of much debate among your little group of friends, with some bribing Minho with his favorite snacks or promising to do his assignments until college just for some sort of clue; a day, month, even the day of the week he was born.

But Minho never budged.

So, seeing a letter on his desk on the day of his birthday was odd, to say the least.

You arrived back to the classroom late after chatting to your friend from another class in the hallway, catching as Minho sat down with a puzzled look on his face and an open letter in his hands.

“What’s up?” You asked, sitting on the desk in front of him.

He looked up, thick glasses crooked from a dodgeball incident earlier that week. “Yumi found out it’s my birthday today,” He informed you, a bit too nonchalantly. “She organized a birthday party at her house tomorrow with our friends.”

You immediately took the letter, reading it and blanching at the words written in the girl’s pretty handwriting. She had found out Minho’s birthday by snooping around Facebook until she found his mother, who had a plethora of pictures of Minho on his previous birthdays. Not only that, the letter ended with a paragraph where she confessed her feelings to him — with all the clichés and dramatics only an adolescent crush could provide.

You still remember your first thoughts upon learning that information: Oh, Yumi. Of course a girl like her would do something like this.

You cringe at your words now, but at fifteen, you deemed no girl worthy of your best friend. Especially ‘girls like Yumi,’ who in your eyes all but threw herself at him. At the time, you thought you were looking out for the boy who was practically your brother. Now, you understand you were simply an insecure fifteen-year-old who allowed ugly, misogynistic thoughts to brew inside your mind out of fear of losing Minho. For your immature brain, every girl interested in Minho was an enemy because they could easily take him away from you.

And Minho had never reciprocated any girl’s feelings, always politely turning down the few confessions he had gotten during middle school. You were ready to berate Yumi, your brows immediately furrowing as your face contorted, but Minho beat you to it, speaking before you could utter a word.

“I know I should be mad, but isn’t it a little… cute?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips like a burst of disbelief. You also couldn’t help how your hands began to tremble as your heart shot up to your throat.

“Cute?” You asked with the strongest voice you could muster. “You think her invading your privacy is cute?”

And Minho simply shrugged, tapping his fingers on his desk. “A little bit. I know you don’t really like her, but she’s part of our friend group,” He said, taking the letter from your shaky hands. “Plus, she’s always been nice to me, and she is cute.”

That was all you could physically bear to hear, excusing yourself from the conversation with the lie that your friend had called you from the classroom window before sprinting out into the hallway. As you continued walking, your palms grew clammy and your heart weighed heavily in your chest.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once you reached the stairs. Sitting on the steps, you cried into the cardigan of your ugly school uniform. You didn’t care that you would be scolded for skipping class; all you cared about was that your best friend was going to be taken from you.

After school, as you and Minho were about to exit the school gates — your hands tightly clasped together as they always were — Yumi appeared carrying a cake, the rest of your friends behind her as they all sang happy birthday.

Minho blew out the candles and made a wish. Everyone cheered as his best friend, Chan, shoved his face into the cake. Minho yelled at him, grumbling with glasses covered in white frosting, but ultimately laughing along. Yumi was quick to clean his face with a napkin, earning her a smile from Minho before he released your hand to gently squeeze her rosy cheeks.

You remained quiet, forcing out a smile and looking up at the sky every now and then so your tears wouldn’t fall.

All because Minho had let go of your hand.

Minho’s fifteenth birthday — that was the day you learned you could fool everyone else, but never yourself.

Your seventeenth summer was a drag.

Minho had just been broken up with a couple of months before, Yumi crying as she explained her parents wanted her to focus on her studies, and having a boyfriend was simply a distraction she couldn’t afford if she wanted to be a doctor someday. An unwilling participant in the entire situation, you sat awkwardly at the bus stop as she spoke.

You were ready to witness Minho cry for the first time in your life, maybe yell about how unfair her parents were being, but he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead just as your bus arrived.

Not much had changed when he began dating Yumi, with you learning that suppressing how you truly felt was worryingly easy. You still hung out with them, battling through their cuddles and kisses like a soldier on the front lines of a war. Never unscathed, but always strong. Nobody needed to know about how you cried into your mother’s arms almost every night before falling asleep.

The only change had been you and Minho’s daily gaming appointments. You two had since outgrown your video game phase, both now interested in diverging things that made it impossible for you to enjoy them together. You discovered your love for flowers went beyond doodling on the sidewalk in front of a flower shop, but Minho complained that growing flowers was too time-consuming, and he loved dancing, which you were far too uncoordinated and lazy to even try doing.

And so, you two settled for simply hanging out together at your house. Your room had easy access to the roof, which you two took full advantage of, setting up a permanent blanket fort where you would snuggle up with pillows and talk for hours after school.

That summer was no different, with Minho stretched out across the old mattress, watching the light pink sky slowly fade away as night set in while you two busied yourselves talking.

That was the day you finally gathered the courage to ask Minho about his breakup, desperate to understand why he had appeared so unfazed. After the one-year milestone of their relationship in February, you had begun to make peace with the fact that she would probably be around for a while.

Minho shrugged at your question, hands resting on his stomach while he gnawed on his bottom lip. He explained he was sure that he liked her, but it turned out he valued her as a friend much more than as a girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but scoff at the answer. You knew Minho better than you knew yourself at times, which was why you knew he was lying through his teeth.

“Why did you stay so long with her, then?” You questioned, the resentful lilt in your voice a bit too obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I mean, you surely didn’t act as just friends.”

“I guess I felt lonely before,” He explained. “I was selfish for staying with her, but I enjoyed having someone. Was especially nice after…” Minho trailed off, dismissively shaking his head, and you remember being close to throwing him off that roof as he kept being so damn enigmatic.

“After what?” You prodded, “Minho, I’m your best friend. What’s the point of us talking if you’re not gonna tell me the truth?”

He turned his head to look up at you, the darkening sky making his eyes gleam as if they held an entire galaxy of stars. You felt that familiar nervousness return.

“It was nice to not be so alone after so many years of pining after someone.”

You cocked your head to the side, and Minho had the gall to chuckle at your puzzled expression. You shook your head, mumbling to yourself that your conversation was pointless if he wouldn’t tell you the whole truth.

Lying next to him on the mattress with a sigh, you could feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.

You remember the moon was already high in the sky by the time one of you finally moved — Minho, who slowly inched his hand closer to yours before clasping it tightly in his. Despite your racing heart, you thought nothing of it. He was now single, so it wouldn’t be ludicrous to assume a habit you two had cultivated for many years would naturally return.

However, after some beats from your erratically racing heart, Minho’s fingers intertwined with yours. You had never done that before, always holding hands in a way that all but screamed platonic.

That night, with his thumb caressing your skin and his hand squeezing yours, Minho finally spoke the truth after so long.

“It’s you,” He said, tone nonchalant but voice audibly shaky. “Think I’ve been pining after you since I was nine and ripped my tooth out ‘cause I thought that’d make you stop being sad.”

You remember gasping quietly and his hand tightening around yours as the clock ticked and your silence remained. You remember finally mustering up the courage to turn to look at him and being met by an expression you had rarely seen on Minho’s face in the thirteen years you had known him — he was scared, wide eyes dancing around your face as if he looked for an answer in your features, his chapped lips parted slightly as if he was ready to backtrack the moment he saw any hint of doubt in your eyes.

You remember smiling at him and how his expression shifted into pure confusion. All it took was for him to finally have the nerve to hold your hand in the way he’d always wanted to, and for you to use his courage as a catalyst for your own. You remember how you closed the distance between you two and pressed your lips to his. You remember it feeling weird because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

But you also remember it feeling right because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

Your transition from being best friends to being in a relationship was easier than you had ever thought it would be — it was also slower than you could have ever imagined.

Minho never asked you out or confessed his feelings beyond what was said on the roof, and neither did you. It was a shared knowledge between you, a silent agreement that didn’t need words — at least for now. The little gestures and subtle changes left no doubt in your minds that you two were, in fact, no longer just friends — like how you began to always intertwine your fingers while holding hands, or how Minho would pull you onto his lap when you hung out with your friends, or how you would rest your head on his shoulder as he played with your hair during lunch break.

Your friends certainly had questions, the confusion written all over their faces easy to read like a book, but you both knew they also understood your relationship without you needing to make a big deal out of it.

You picked him up from dance class every weekend, sometimes arriving earlier just to catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, as Minho insisted he was too embarrassed to dance in front of you.

One day, thoroughly unprompted, he reached into his backpack as you two exited his dance academy and pulled out a yellow tulip. You had furrowed your brows at the sudden gesture, and Minho nonchalantly told you that planting your favorite flower was surprisingly easy. Since becoming teenagers, you had stopped going to Ms. Kim’s flower shop, and you had long forgotten about how you two used to have your own respective flowers back in the day.

It seemed Minho hadn’t forgotten.

That was one thing you had come to know about him only after you began dating. Although he seemed cold and distant on the outside — rarely communicating his feelings through words — Minho secretly kept a mental note of every little detail about the people he cared about, and he unfailingly found a way to communicate his feelings through actions. Such as promptly handing you a brand-new flower he had picked before you even had the chance to mourn your tulip as it began to wilt.

You, on the other hand, had always been the type of person to communicate through words; spoken, written, or read, which is how you began saving your best daisies from the small garden you created in your backyard and practicing your flower arrangement skills exclusively by making pretty bouquets you could gift to Minho (always with little notes hidden among the flowers).

Your once explicitly platonic roof dates also left no room for doubt, as making out under your usual tent became a hard-to-break habit. In fact, that was how your family found out about your relationship. You were eighteen, with graduation just around the corner, when your mother caught Minho kissing you as tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of having to be apart from him during college (although you both knew that would never be the case, as you always moved mountains simply to stay together).

Everything was slow-paced, and neither of you had any desire to rush anything. Once, Minho told you he had waited eight years to finally kiss you, and somehow, that anticipation was what had made it all the more special.

And so, your first proper date only happened six months after your first kiss, and your first fight only happened a year and a half into your relationship. Not to mention your first I love you, which had been a slip-up that happened only in your first year of college after a drunken night with Chan and Minho. Your head on his lap, your tulip nestled among his daisies in a pretty vase on the coffee table as Chan hummed along to some song that came from his phone. You felt as if your entire being was filled with pure gratitude at that moment, and the liquid courage that flowed through your veins only helped you mutter out how much you loved Minho.

He looked down at you, hands cupping your cheeks with a silly smile adorning his face, and simply answered, “Well, I love you more.”

Your carefree attitude toward your relationship was almost a contrast to the one you had with your friendship. You and Minho had met so young that you could never truly pinpoint when you had become such close friends. You always wondered if that was what led you two to be so easygoing with what most people rush into. Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

You remember one of Minho’s new friends, Changbin, asking something about your sex life at some party during freshman year, and you two nonchalantly answering that you didn’t really have one. Your friends’ shock was understandable, but you and Minho only laughed.

Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

It was Minho’s 21st birthday, when your flowers were no longer in bloom, but your love remained blossoming like it was mid-spring. He had, as always, vetoed any and every plan of a celebration suggested by your friends. He opted to stay in with you, cuddling under a blanket fort like you had been doing for so many years. Chan graciously offered to sleep at a friend’s dorm, leaving your small shared apartment just for you and Minho.

He hadn’t planned for anything to happen, and neither had you. You were simply lying together, watching the flickering of the candles you had set up around the coffee table, recounting the innumerable memories you shared when you suddenly felt the earnest, all-consuming need to have Minho as close as possible.

It was clumsy, both of you inexperienced and nervous. Your teeth crashed together and your hands gripped each other tightly, the realization of the intensity of your yearning becoming undeniable. At some point, the entire tent collapsed on top of you, and laughter filled the room for a brief moment before being replaced by your sighs and whispered moans.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was you and Minho.

Graduation day was a blur in your mind.

It had all started with Minho and Chan drunk at eleven a.m., offering you the awful-tasting omelet they had cooked in your cramped kitchen. They then went on to zone out for most of the ceremony after stumbling out of your apartment.

You approached Minho after he was done taking pictures and getting scolded by his family for being drunk on his graduation day, his mother giving you an apologetic look as you whisked him away.

“You’re stressed,” you pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” you replied with a sigh, resting against a large tree far enough away from the hustle and bustle of recently graduated students and crying families. “So is Chan. Don’t think I’ve seen him this drunk since Jisung’s birthday party last year.”

Minho chuckled, shifting on his feet and toying with the fabric of his gown. You furrowed your brows; he only ever got fidgety when hiding something. You learned that for the first time when you were thirteen and he had to wait until your birthday to tell you he’d gotten you two tickets to see your favorite band, and again when he had to keep Chan’s then-girlfriend’s plans of asking him to move in together a secret.

“You’re not nervous ‘cause of graduation, are you?”

You remember the way he stilled almost immediately.

“We always tell each other the truth, right?” He asked.

You remember the way your whole world spun as he pulled out a small box from his pocket and how everything seemed to fade into a white mist that surrounded Minho like a spotlight as he proposed to you.

Your wedding was small — both because that was how you had wanted it to be and because of your lack of money for a proper party.

After graduating, Minho became a dance teacher at the academy he attended as a teen, teaching little kids who he said always reminded him of you two. You used the money your parents had saved for you to travel after college to buy the old flower shop that held so many memories from your childhood. Neither of you used your degrees, and neither of you made a lot of money, but you were overflowing with an infatuation for life and a love for each other so great that it made up for any silly inconvenience that dared to come up.

The ceremony was held at a local church — although neither of you was particularly religious, that was the cheapest place available. You opted to walk down the aisle together; hands clasped the way you used to do for many years while walking home from school. Minho held onto a daisy bouquet you made, while you held the single tulip he had picked out for you that day.

“I’m not good with words,” was how Minho began his vows, the glow of the fairy lights and candles adorning the church rendering his attempt at hiding his tears futile. That was the first time you had ever seen him cry in the twenty-one years you’d known him. “But I think that never mattered with you. You know me better than I know myself. Most times, I don’t even have to say a word, and you’ll still understand me. It’s been this way since we were four, and you understood why I was so quiet, and you still chose to be my friend. Thank you for understanding me, and thank you for allowing me to love you. Loving you is what I do best and look how lucky I am; I’ve been able to do it for my whole life.” He then shot you a grin, the back of his hand wiping away your tears. He ended his speech with a line that was so very Minho, thought up with sincerity but spoken primarily to make you smile. “You’ve always felt like home, and I can’t wait to feel that way until we’re both food for the worms to eat.”

You had never cried so much as you did on the day of your wedding — which was remarkable, seeing as you’d been a crier your whole life. You remember the irony of it all; Minho, who had never been good with words, telling you about his love with words that came from his heart and spilled from his lips without any rehearsal, while you were rendered speechless and too emotional to even attempt to form a coherent sentence.

Your wedding vow was a simple, choked-up, “Thank you for being my best friend, Minho.”

Minho carried you home from the church, with your cheeks flushing pink and his smile beaming as your friends made rice cascade around the two of you like snow. It turned out the boy who hated attention didn’t mind the spotlight so long as it meant showing off his love for you.

Your honeymoon was spent in your small house above your flower shop — which you named Daisy’s Tulips — where you cuddled under a blanket fort the entire day, only leaving the comfort of the pillows and fluffy covers well after midnight to adorn the sidewalk in front of your house in a brand new chalk drawing.

“Can you imagine if we never said anything?” Minho suddenly wondered aloud, his chuckle echoing through the quiet street. “We were both pretty good at hiding our feelings for so long.”

And you simply shook your head, painting a daisy with white chalk on the sidewalk. “Minho, I know you. You wouldn’t have let me keep pretending after finding out I liked you too.”

“Who says I would have found out?”

“You said it yourself,” you explained, “I know you better than you know yourself, and that’s reciprocal. You would’ve found out ‘cause I can never hide anything from you.”

And Minho smiled, taking your hand in his just as you were done with your drawing. Your gaze shifted toward him, and you admired the man he had become. From the shy little boy who sat beside you to the quiet teenager with thick glasses to the man he had grown into; you loved every version of Minho you had the privilege to meet throughout your life, and you were certain you would love every new version of him you came to know in the future as well.

“Of course you can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. He then added, “Thank you for being my best friend.”

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist

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winterarmyy · 10 months

Text

Welcome Home... Soldat? | Part III

That time when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Navigation: Part I || Part II* || Part III (end) || Extra

Words: 5.2k++ (sorry y'all)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, fluffy stuff, tiny sprinkle of angst, soldat is heartbreakingly adorable until the very end, bucky not being very communicative, self-loathing, confusion, conflicted feelings between guilt and need, two idiots in love who are lost in a miscommunication, excessive use of the word 'fuck', and... what else? I'm not sure either lol.

P/S: This has been truly a journey. Thank you so much for the support y'all have been giving me. I really do appreciate all the comments and dms about my work regardless which one of them. Just wanna remind you that I won't be here without you; that's the degree of importance that you possess. Anyway, enjoy your reading.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

It's only been eight in the morning and the soldat had Y/N trapped between his arms as she focused on sifting the flour for the pancake batter. There were barely any space between them; not when he made sure that her soft plushy butt rests right against his crotch, while his fingers subtly move along her hips.

Those gentle trailings didn't last too long for comfort as he slipped his left hand under her sweatshirt. The soldat let his instinct took control as the metal of his touch draws invisible circles all across her bare stomach, while his lips peppered endless amount of butterfly kisses on the marks from last night; each one was now hidden under layers of color correcter and concealer.

"Wow." A raw sound of astonisment naturally slipped from Sam's lips as he found himself frozen in his spot at the corridor leading to the entrance of the kitchen.

Look at them. Acting like newlyweds on their honeymoon.

For a moment he forgot that the huge cuddly hunk in front of him was the winter soldier and not his fellow comrade.

But then again, it might as well made sense that it was not the Bucky he knew, because that man would've been a puddle of mess if he got the chance to touch Y/N like this.

Sam still remember that night when they had a Harry Potter movie marathon and Y/N ended up falling asleep on Bucky's shoulder. Even in the room that was scarce from light, Sam could clearly see the redness on Bucky's cheeks and ears.

It was an understatement to say that Sam had the best time of his life teasing the shit out of Bucky that night, knowing he can't do anything about it without waking Y/N from her comfy slumber.

"Soldat, please. I need to move around, you know?" Y/N's amused giggle pulled the soldat from his dreamy trance.

He shakes his head in the crook of her neck, snuggling deeper as he took a deep breath of her sweet scent, "No, you don't. You just need to stay here." The soldat huffed as he pouted and tighten his hold on her.

Y/N chuckled at his child-like antics, "You do know that you're not gonna get any breakfast any time soon if you keep doing this, right?"

Sometimes, she couldn't help but wondered if this is how it would feel like to have Bucky doting on her.

"Родная (darling), I'll gladly have you for breakfast. I'm sure I'd have a feast on that sweet little pussy of yours." He whispered seductively into her ears, as he sensed Sam's presence approaching the kitchen.

Y/N briefly fluttered her eyes shut as he purred in her ears, before slightly peel herself off from him, "Soldat." Her voice was stern and her eyes narrowed into a frown.

The soldat gaze down at her with a hazy grin on his lips, "Родная (darling)."

Unknowingly, the one-sided glaring battle began when Y/N refused to break their intense eye contact; each opponent uses a very contrasting approach, where one has a deep frown and a pair of blazing eyes while the other has the softest, droopy stare and literal hearts in his steel blues.

"Move." Y/N instructed as if it was a warning.

The brunnette let out a defeated laugh as he loosen his hold on her, "Okay, okay. Anything for you, sweet one."

"Thank you." She sighed. "Finally" she thought. She was worried that they gonna have breakfast for lunch if he refuses to let her go.

On the other hand, the soldat was unable to sit still on his own, so he continue to follow her around, like a hungry cat rubbing their forehead up their human's leg, mewling for attention.

"Morning, y/n and... her shadow." Sam finally make himself known as he greeted while naturally went to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Sam." she greeted back while the soldat swiftly put himself in between them like a barrier. He shot a menancing glare at Sam as the man was standing 'too close to Y/N' for the soldat's comfort.

Obviously offended, "Dude, calm down. I was just greeting her good morning." His voice raised as he defended himself for his rights, "Tell him y/n" he continued to tattle tail.

In which Y/N responded by patting the back of the soldat's shoulder as a reassurance before asking him to move away.

Let's just say that he begrudgingly agreed to just because it was Y/N's request.

"Unbeliveable." Sam rolled his eyes, "This your friend?" He asked as Steve entered the scene, greeting everyone a good morning before he quirked, "What?"

"Look at him." Sam accusingly pointed as the soldat, "He's hogging y/n." He continued to explain while purposely reach his hand to touch her. The soldat wordlessly pulled her away before he could reach any further, "See?" Sam pointed again.

Steve didn't defend anyone this time as he only laughed it off before finding his seat. His eyes sparkled with delight to the amount of pancake made by Y/N and the multiple choice of topping and sides; from the sickening sweet stuff to the oddly savoury ones.

He glanced over at his best friend, who was unsubtly trying to hog Y/N away from Sam and his baby blues soften as he thought maybe Shuri was right. Maybe Bucky was always present somewhere in this soldat's persona.

It was such a typical Bucky behaviour to be possessive as the soldat was being. Steve noticed that Bucky would always get a bit agitated when someone touch his girl, even if he doesn't actively show it as much. In the 40's he might've been able to hide it behind his charming smile and witty jokes, but nowdays anyone can see it on his ever-present frown and unintelligible grunts.

That applies for both Bucky and the soldat.

Y/N rolled her eyes at Sam as she pulled the soldat by the hand, "Ignore him, soldat. Now, come have breakfast with me." She sat him on one of the stool by the kitchen isle as she prepared his plate.

Perplexed by the lack response, Sam admitted his defeat for once and joined the isle to have his bite of the morning.

As soon as she settled on her own seat next to him, the soldat took her hand into his, briefly kissing her the back of it. "Thank you, darling." He whispered before placing their locked hands on his lap as they ate, casually rubbing his thumb on her for comfort.

If you thought Y/N was the only one who was blushing at the domestic show of affection, well you'd think again when you see the shade of red on the tip of his ears or the way Sam purposely looked away.

The morning went by with mostly three of them having a pleasant conversation and the soldat silently distract himself by playing with her hand, apparently enthralled by the size difference and how fragile looking hers was.

Meanwhile, the rest of the team came by the kitchen on their own time since some of them prefer to sleep off the pain from the previous mission.

Half an hour later, she felt as if she was caught in a dejavu when she found herself in the same position as before. She laughed softly as she washed dishes, while the soldat stuck himself to her like a oversize koala to a tiny tree.

"I smell pancakes." Tony spoke as he made a bee line towards the kitchen, looking like he just survived a bio hazard in the lab.

"I made extra. Help yourself." Y/N announced, not even trying to look back at them, especially when the soldat had her trapped in his tight embrace.

Tony peeked to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Y/N, "Did you see her? I didn't even know she was here until she spoke." He asked, though he sounded more like he was teasing her.

Before Tony could reach out for his plate, Shuri stormed to the kitchen, catching everyone's attention, "Pancakes can wait, Tony." She stopped him which only cause him to whine dramatically.

It felt as if Y/N's heart completely dropped out of her body when Shuri nodded knowingly, "It's time."

There was a quick briefing of the process with everyone involved while they prep the soldat in the other side of the glassed section of the lab. Y/N tried to focus on watching the simple simulation video that was prepared by Tony.

And she heard every single words of Shuri's but all she could think was if the soldat knew what they were doing. If he felt like he was being thrown, being disposed of like some kind of object.

By the time they the explanation ended, Y/N didn't think twice as she marched towards the soldat. The team didn't questioned her motive as they can see the determination in her eyes.

She stopped on her tracks, right at the entrance when a thought ran across her mind.

Of course, she wanted Bucky back but why does this feel so wrong?

"How are you feeling, soldat?" She prompted as she walked over to him, passing the lab employee who scurried away leaving the couple to have some privacy.

The soldat brightened in her presence as he reached out to her with grabby hands, triggering a soft giggle from Y/N. She let her hands gravitate towards his, intertwining her fingers in his hold as he replied, "Much better now." He sighed in contentment the moment he felt her skin against his own.

There was a comforting silence in the room, but Y/N's mind was the complete opposite. There was only chaos of questions that felt so sinful and immoral to utter out loud.

The soldat grip tightens with tenderness, as if he could hear the loud havoc in her head. Moments later, he decided to break the silence with an honest confession.

"I know that I'm not welcomed here." He glanced at the other side of the glass, watching the team pacing around. "I know that you're trying to get rid of me." His ocean blues changed its tides to gaze up at her; the smile on his lips was soft and pure.

"You know, I have been many things in this life..." the soldat looked down where his hands were entangled with hers, "...a killer, a weapon, a monster, you name it." there was a hint of grudge in his voice but mostly it was woven with regret.

"But, worst of all, I have been a thief." It felt as if he has been holding his breath as he avowed.

"I have stolen decades worth of his life, robbed him of his freedom for so many years, every single happiness and hope he could ever experienced had been stripped away right before his eyes," the soldat chuckled ironically before looking up to meet her teary eyes, "...yet I'm still greedy for more days with you."

Y/N found herself unable to speak, afraid that her words would do nothing to coax him; or maybe she just couldn't trust that her voice won't crack in the middle of her sentence especially when she was damn sure that her heart was already cracking for him.

The soldat's eyes softens when he reached his hand to her face, "I never knew that I was capable to feel these futile emotions such as joy and love, until I felt it when he looks at you." Y/N didn't even notice she was crying until he wiped them away with the gentle caresses of his thumb.

"Everything I felt towards you were his to begin with." He confessed as he felt the guilt of stealing yet another precious thing from him again, "That's why, I don't deserve this." The said as he recalled every moment he got to spend with her, "I don't deserve you."

The soldat knows that very well, but that didn't stop the natural curiosity that resides from within him, "And I can't help but to wonder..." he hesitated as he tried to construct the most raw and truthful question to sum up whatever this emotion he was currently feeling.

"Will you remember me?" His voice was small and quiet, almost afraid of the answer that might come his way.

More tears were spilling out as she unhesitantly replied, "How could I not?" Her hands raised to his face, cupping his scruffy cheeks in her palms.

The soldat's eyes sightly wobbled when he asked again, "Will you miss me?" At that time, he didn't know that the feeling he felt was called 'heartache', yet he was handling it like he had been experiencing it all his life.

Y/N leaned as she pressed the most tender kiss on his forehead, "More than you know." Her answer made the soldat smile as he purred in her hold.

He peeled one away from his face and pressed a kiss of his own on the delicate palm of her hand. The same ones that had showed him nothing but so much love and kindness.

When Shuri came into the scene, they know it was time to say goodbye. But, both refused to say anything remotely close to it. So, they wordlessly walked out towards the cylinder shaped glass pod, located right in the middle of the lab.

Until the very end, Y/N stood by his side as he lay on the tight space of the pod. And just as the door was about the close, the soldat smiled lovingly at his precious person, as he called for her nickname one last time.

"So long, Родная (darling)."

Three weeks later. At Avenger's private gym.

Steve re-adjusted his stance as he took cautious step backwards, "Why are you avoiding her?" He asked straightforwardly.

Bucky huffed a heavy breath as he lunged forward for a strike, "What are you talking about?" He missed when Steve easily swerved away and countered back, "Don't play dumb, Buck. I'm not in a mood for that."

The brunette blocked his punch with his left forearm but Steve uses that as an opportunity to grab him and pushed him on the floor. Bucky groaned as he landed flat on his chest, left hand on his back.

"Well, I'm not in a mood to talk about it either." He growled as he swing his leg backwards, toppling Steve on his back and pushed his metal arm against his neck, choking him out of his breath, "So, drop it." He warned.

Steve tapped the floor as a sign of defeat and Bucky released his hold while retreat his arm away. Both of them was out of breath but for entirely different reason; Steve was literally choked, so that's fair, but Bucky was breathing heavily as soon as Y/N stepped into the gym.

He stood there with an intense frown on his face, glaring at the woman of his dreams. Literal dreams, or memories of the soldat that was left behind for Bucky after what happened with the winter soldier situation.

Thankfully the method worked, Shuri and Tony managed to bring Bucky back but just like before, he don't have any clear recollection what happened.

While Y/N made the team swore to never speak to Bucky about what he did when he relapsed, while Bucky himself also hides the fact that, much like his previous experience where the memories comes in a form of unsightly nightmares, his memories of those few days were also coming back in a form of dreams.

Though they were never linear. There was no way of knowing the actual flow of his memories.

It came more like snippets of certain moments, sometimes repetitive, sometimes glitchy but they were mostly such good dreams, beautiful even, however they didn't last very long.

At least, not according to Bucky.

Y/N stopped on her tracks as she saw Bucky, who blatantly throwing daggers at her through his eyes. She didn't know why but she didn't want to think of the worst, so she went towards him in hopes of proving her own mind that the negative instincts that she had was wrong.

But the moment she got close, "Hi Buck--" Bucky walked passed her as if she wasn't there in the first place. And she had to admit that, that shit was painful to go through.

And he had been acting like this for two weeks now. Avoiding her like a fucking plague. And she doesn't know why.

He was acting normal during the first week of his awakening, or maybe a little bit more reserved that he usually would be.

She doesn't know how else to explain it but he seemed to act really shy whenever Y/N accidently touched him.

Did someone told him about what happened? Is that why he's mad? She doesn't get it, and she wants to know why.

So before Bucky managed to walk further pass her, Y/N turned on her heels and tugged him by his right arm to stop him. Little did she knew, that might just be the one thing she shouldn't do.

It was like a pre-programmed reaction, when Bucky's body move on his own, as he harshly ripped himself from her grasps, almost dropping her to the ground.

Steve was second away from reaching out to catch her but luckily she found her balance back on her own.

Bucky leered down at her as he spoke, "Don't touch me." His voice came out much more venomous than he intended, making Y/N flinched to his command.

But if that what he needs to do to chase her away from him then so be it, "Just stay the fuck away from me." Bucky spat a cold warning before marching his way out.

Not only leaving Y/N in utter confusion, but with her heart torn to bled dry.

"No... soldat." She whimpered in his ears as his finger drew slow circles on her clit, his mouth latched on her shoulder.

Salty tears started to blur her vision when she sniffled them back.

"Look at you. Look how well you're taking me. My darling is such a good girl, isn't she?" The soldat sounds sickeningly sweet when he murmured in her ears.

"Don't." she whispered quietly.

"p-please soldat, ahh." She mewled, scratching the metal of his arm.

"That's it darling, cum for your soldat. give it to me,, aahhh" He motioned, forming an 'O' with his mouth as she clamp down on his fingers; with his wide eyes looking down at her exposed pussy.

Bucky's eyes snapped open, ripping him out of the distorted memories only to leave him gasping in the darkness. He woke up swimming in his bed, drowning in the flood of sheets with his heart pounding as if it was desperate to tear out of his chest.

He looked around suspiciously as if he didn't recognized his own room, until strain of his crotch distracted him. His eyes pried downwards to see his cock struggling to fit in his pants and the images of his lucid dream flashes again.

Bucky shuts his eyes tightly, hoping the torture would stop reminding him of his sins, "You sick fuck." A deep frown formed as he muttered curses to himself.

After hours and hours of free falling tears in her room, letting herself drown in a sorrow that she never knew she would ever experience, she let herself wonder back to those lovely moments of her with the soldat.

She found it ironic that somehow the memories of his touch was also the cure to the wounds left by cruelty of his words.

It's hours passed midnight and her tears finally stopped, at least until her body was able physically form more tears in her glands, she took the time as a chance for her to rest.

Y/N laid on her back, letting the remaining tears to fall into her ears.

Worst part of all of this was not knowing why, and being left in the dark, yet he managed to effortlessly left her heart broken into shatters.

"Don't touch me."

"Just stay the fuck away from me."

Bucky's words had been circling her mind like a raging tornado. It felt like the spitefulness of his voice was mocking the flaws of her fragmented heart, toying with what's left behind after the storm.

Y/N didn't even realized when did she started to make her way towards the kitchen, but it was as if her body knew its own limit when her feet walked her out of the confinement of her room and her mind remind her to hydrate herself.

As she entered the kitchen area, she wasn't expecting to see Bucky standing in the middle of it, leaning forward towards the counter tops.

Even with the little source of light from the corridor, Y/N could see the tiredness in his face as he stare blankly into nothing. But, his expression soon changed when he saw her.

She didn't know what she had done to make him so agitated whenever he laid his eyes on her.

The silence between them was so loud that Y/N couldn't help but to approach him.

"I..." She truly didn't know what to say but it felt like it was her fault. She did take advantage of him when the soldat took over; endless use of his body, hands, lips and not to mention what happened that night. "I'm sorry."

Bucky was truly appalled to her words, even though he didn't show it on his expression. Why does she had to apologize to him when he was clearly the problem, "Why are you apologizing?" his anger naturally slipped through as he spoke.

But Y/N didn't know that he was frustrated at himself, and not at her, so the tone that he used stung her as much as it did prior, "I don't know." She simply said.

Lies.

She knew exactly why apologized but she wasn't sure if Bucky knew what happened when he blacked-out. "I just... I don't want to stay away from you. I don't like it."

She can't; not when her yearning for him had grew stronger than ever before.

"Well, you better get used to it because it won't change any time soon." Bucky spat harshly.

Y/N felt her own rage started to bubble from within.

Why is he being so hot-headed and stubborn like a sulking child? Can't he just act like a fucking adult and talk it out?

Her brows crunched into a frown as she held back her tone, "Why?"

Bucky let out a frustrated as he tried to walk away, shooting a demanding glare as he was passing her, "Just do as you're told, y/n"

"Oh no, you're not gonna run away from this."

She grabbed him by his arms and pulled him back into the conversation. "That's not fair, Bucky."

"Not fair?" His eyes narrowed, as he looked down at the smaller.

She puffed out an angry breath as she glared up, "No, it is not fair! It's not entirely your choice to make." She can feel the flames started to spread, "Especially when you refused to tell me why." She yelled accusingly as she shoved her finger to his chest.

Blood roaring in Bucky's ears as his heart pounded hard, pouring the concealed frustration out like a broken dam as he explodes, "He almost raped you, y/n!!"

There was a few milliseconds of non-movements as both them let those few words sink into their processing brain, "I... almost raped you." His voice shook in both anguish and anger, leaving Y/N frozen in a speechless shock.

"Or maybe I already did and I don't even fucking remember." His hands roughly tugged his long hair back as if he tried to go through the pieces of shattered memories in his wrecked mind.

"And if that is not a fucking sign for you stay away from me, I don't know what else I should do to make you see that." Bucky was breathing heavily that his breaths echoed through the silenced space.

Y/N's mind was running wild as everything slowly clicked. Did he thought that he... No. She blinked several times before she could form actual words, "Bucky, what are you saying? It's okay, it's okay. Just please calm down first and--" she tried to reach for him but that only made Bucky retorted, physically and mentally.

"It's okay? No, it's fucking not. Are you even listening to yourself? Can't you see? I'm dangerous y/n." He sounded as desperate as he was for air. "Especially to you. And if my messed up past was not enough to prove it, then what happened between us when I relapsed certainly did."

His heart rate increase rapidly, and his lungs seemed to work double time. Yet, he refused to let her see how badly he needed comfort.

"Bucky, please breathe. And just.. listen to me--" Y/N was hopeless trying to pull him out of the chaos of his mind but he just wouldn't listen.

Bucky's voice started to waver as the dark revelation continued to cloud him, "He assault you, y/n. I fucking assault you. And I can't let that happened again. So, just please, stay awa--"

"It was my choice!" Y/N snapped as she grabbed Bucky by his shoulder, forcing him to focus on her. "Bucky, I let him touch me. I could stop him if I want to, but I didn't."

Bucky didn't understand, "W-why?"

"Because I know he wouldn't hurt me. You wouldn't hurt me." Y/N tried to lay it out for him slowly but then she realized that maybe he didn't need that right now.

"Fuck, Bucky! I'm not a saint." She cursed after a few short moments of hesitation, "I have a lot of feelings I need to deal with like every other human being. Lust, love, you name it. And he..."

In a brief moment, she thought of the soldat, "He gave me the opportunity to feel the love that I always wanted from you. He showed me what we could've been." There was a sense of longing in her eyes, "It started small, soft touches and loving kisses." She smiled to the memories of it.

"And the moment that I thought that it could've been you who's kissing me, touching me. I knew it was over." She didn't know how many times she almost slipped out his name whenever she calls for the soldat; the name 'Bucky' was always at the tip of her tongue but never out.

"One thing led to another and we... I didn't mean to let it stray too far." She confessed, "Bucky, I admit it was wrong for me to take advatange of you, of the soldat, and I know there's no excuse to my behaviour than my own inability to control my feelings for you."

If the soldat thought that he was being greedy, then that makes the two of them.

"I understand if you want me to stay away from you, but just let me say this out loud." Her hands slid down to find his, thankfully he didn't repulsed this time, "Bucky... I love you." She finally spilled the truth as her soften gaze trained on his eyes, "I have loved you for a long time."

Afraid that this could be the end, she refused to look away. She didn't care if Bucky would plunge daggers to her through his words, she want him to know that her feelings for him was unconditional.

And Bucky really tried his best to let all her words sink in, even though most of them were somehow redacted and lost in his head.

But, thankfully the most important ones was so loud and clear for him to draw a simple conclusion that would ease his relentless worries, "You...I.. I didn't force it on you?"

Y/N didn't know why she wasn't expecting him to believe her but she was glad that he did, "No" she replied simply.

Bucky's voice strangled while his hand gripping tighter in her hold, "I didn't hurt you?" His teary eyes pleaded for the truth.

"Not a even close." She smiled kindly.

Bucky felt as the unbearable burden on his shoulders was lifted off completely just by those few simple words that Y/N just uttered. The tears he was desperately holding back broke freely as they stream down his face, his shoulders trembled with the force of his emotions running through his veins.

He whispered, "You don't hate me for it?" He pulled her hands closer to his face, fluttering his eyes shut as he kissed the knuckles of her fingers.

"Never." Y/N reassured, as she cupped his face; stroking her thumbs on his scruffy cheeks, wiping the warm, salty tears away.

Bucky sighed to her touch, it seemed that his body remembered her more than his mind did, "And you love me?" He blinked as he placed his hand on top of her.

Y/N nodded with a loving curve on her lips, "Always have."

Bucky didn't know how she does it but she really did managed to mend and melt his heart all at the same time. It was magic. Or, maybe it was sorcery. But even if she ended up leaving a curse behind, Bucky would still be glad that he let her bewitched him.

Bucky stared down at her, admiring her the kindness in her eyes despite the swolleness of them. He felt bad for breaking her heart, making her cry. It tore his heart just thinking about it.

His tongue darted out for a brief second as his metal hand fell, wrapping around her body.

Y/N maintained to lock her eyes on his as her hand slid down, and pressed on his chest. Despite being comfortable with his touches, and with the amount of kisses the soldat had generously gave her, she shouldn't be nervous anymore but she was.

After all, the soldat never kisses her on the lips and Bucky had his eyes on hers since the beginning.

She wanted his too.

Seeing the anticipation in her eyes, Bucky leaned in to press a kiss on her lips, his flesh hand came up to tilt her chin up, then gently cupped her face as he pulled her closer.

Her lips was so soft against his, that Bucky was sure that he will crave to this every single day.

He briefly pulled away from the kiss to whisper a soft, "I love you too, y/n." Before coming down for another chaste, "More than you could ever fucking imagine." He almost growled as he dipped for more.

Their innocent kiss soon turned into something deeper. They kissed passionately, lost in the bubble of time and space, ignoring the silenced ambiance as they were fixated on the sound of their beating hearts.

And when they pulled away for air, Y/N giggled as a silly thought went through her mind, "Well, I kinda see the glimpse of it in those few days with the soldat, so I think I got the gist of it."

That caused Bucky to let out a genuinely hearty laugh before humming playfully, "Hmm, do you now?" He went in for another kiss, knowing full well that he was already addicted to the taste of her lips.

He just can't get enough of it.

Y/N answered briefly in between his kisses, "Yes."

Bucky smirked as he smoothly guided her backwards, until the back of her waist met with the cold tile of the kitchen isle, "Three times, was it?" his eyes glint with mischieve when he leaned again to steal another kiss.

"What is?" Y/N titled her head to the side, unknowingly giving access for Bucky to lead his kisses from her soft cheek down to her exposed neck.

His lips trailed along the crook of it as he whispered, "Was it three times that he made you cum?" If his goal was to seduce her; well it was safe to say that he did it rather flawlessly.

Y/N thanked god that the kitchen was dim-litted, because the redness on her cheek was rather embarrassing, "I-I'm not sure."

She lied. But, Bucky didn't need to know that.

Bucky chuckled lowly as he murmured, "It's okay, babydoll. We have all the time in the world to beat that record." his naughty hands had already made their way toward her ass before she even have the time to register what he suggested.

Lust decorated the blues in his eyes as he whispered, "Starting now."

End.

<< Part II || Extra >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Yeay, we have reached the end but I might have more of the couple in the future. Though I don't know when will it happen but I have hopes for it. Meanwhile, why don't you tell me what you think of the series and checkout my other work!

#winterarmyyfics #welcome home soldat au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier!bucky

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whatithinkaboutdarkshadows · 9 months

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Episode 295: A special kind of music

Maggie Evans, The Nicest Girl in Town, has come back to Collinsport. This is a surprise to everyone. Months ago, Maggie had escaped from an unknown captor who drained her blood and deranged her mind. Maggie’s family doctor, addled quack Dave Woodard, had persuaded her father and her fiancé to join him in telling everyone that she was dead and to lock her up in a mental hospital a hundred miles…

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#ACoA #announcement #barnabas collins #closing miscellany #color television #danny horn #dark shadows #dark shadows before i die #dr dave woodard #first time not the last #john sedwick #julia hoffman #victoria winters

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assassinsblade · 4 months

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Heavy Weather

In which yours and Azriel’s mission is disrupted by a major inconvenience: your cycle.

WC: 4.1k

Warnings: Nothing really, just fluff and period stuff!

—————-

Gods, it was cold.

The snow fell down in sheets, covering the forest floor and soaking into your leathers. Azriel was trekking about twenty feet in front of you, eyes scouring the area, although his grip was loose around Truth Teller at his side.

“The Winter Court…” you grouched, mimicking your high lord. “Why couldn’t it have been Day Court. Or Autumn.”

Azriel chuckled. “You wanna spend time with Helion and Eris? I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

The air in front of you steamed as you let out an exhausted breath. You both had been pushing through this snow for hours. You couldn’t even remember what you were looking for at this point. You had only been there for about ten hours, and a little into the cold wilderness, you found your brain becoming foggy and your body fatigued. You really needed a blanket and sleep.

“Helion would never let me freeze. He likes body heat too much. And Eris has fire powers.”

“Something tells me Eris wouldn’t be too keen on helping.”

You shrugged, lifting your foot to step over a snow-covered log. “He’s always been fine to me.”

A muscle in Azriel's jaw jumped, his wings going tight against his back. You could barely make out the pink coloring of his mouth through the snowfall. “I don’t trust him,” he said. “Not after Mor, and not with you.”

“So dramatic.” You attempted to ease the tension in the air at your mention of the soon-to-be High Lord of the Autumn Court.

“I’m dramatic? You live in the Night Court and suddenly you act like snow is going to kill you.”

You did feel like it was going to kill you. You didn’t know what had you so exhausted, why the snow seemed to be soaking through your clothes and seeping its way straight into your bones. You had slept okay last night, hadn’t you? You were wearing weather-appropriate clothing. You had done enough training and exercise that this hike shouldn’t be wearing you down this much.

You hadn’t realized that Azriel had turned around to look at you, stopping in his tracks as he waited for you to catch up.

“Are you actually okay?” His voice was more serious this time, less teasing.

Giving him a nod, you focused on putting one foot in front of the other. “Yeah. Let’s just make shelter somewhere soon. I really am cold.”

He nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. You didn’t blame him, you must have looked pathetic. Your teeth were chattering so loud the same spies you came to the Winter Court to track would no doubt be able to hear you if close. Your body felt like you had weights pulling you down under the earth, with each step comparable to trudging through quicksand. And you just felt off - like you could pass out or throw up at any moment.

Azriel waited until you were by his side once again before continuing to move.

“There’s an abandoned cabin not too far from here. We’ll camp there for the night, get you some rest. Maybe a blanket or two.”

The wind burnt your cheeks as you tilted you head to look at him. He seemed completely unaffected. In fact, it was as if he was taking a stroll through the Summer Court, right along the water, basking in the breeze.

“How are you not freezing?”

His lips quirked up at your angry tone. “Believe it or not, Sunshine, I grew up in the snowy Illyrian mountains.”

You nodded, only half-hearing his response. And then your feet were stumbling over one another, and Azriel had to reach out quickly to prevent you from falling.

“Not too far now,” he reassured. But he kept his hand on your leathers the rest of the way to the cabin, monitoring your movements and ensuring you wouldn’t just topple over. Every so often, you felt him look over at you, as if he didn’t trust his hand and wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen behind again.

It felt like hours before the rickety structure came into view, and by that point, you truly knew something was wrong with you. Had you been poisoned at some point during the trip? Were you sick? You didn’t think you’d ever been sick in your entire life as fae.

Once you were at the landing of the cabin, you realized Azriel had been supporting your weight much more than you had intended or thought. His entire forearm was supporting your back now, pushing you forward until you crossed the threshold into the enclosed space.

You heard the door shut tightly behind you, sucking the sound of the wind out with it. In the silence, you nearly collapsed.

There wasn’t much time to take in your surroundings. You briefly saw a couch, a kitchen area, and a fireplace. There was probably a bathroom down the hall, maybe a bed if you were lucky. Your thoughts didn’t go past that though as you stumbled for the sofa.

Azriel watched as you fell into it, your head tipping back and eyes scrunching closed. You tried to school your features into something less uncomfortable, but you doubted it was convincing.

“I’ll get a fire going.”

You heard his footsteps move toward the fireplace, the scuffling of movements as wood was moved from the keep to the hearth. However, despite his action to get the cabin warm for you, you could still feel his eyes drifting toward the couch intermittently.

Wood began cracking, a light forming in the corner of your vision. Still cold, still weak, you tried to breathe steadily.

You were about to say something to distract Azriel from your odd behavior when you felt fabric being laid over your body. Your hands automatically went to grip the blanket, pulling it up to your chin weakly before peeking your eyes open.

Azriel was already moving away from the couch, but he didn’t leave the room before muttering a quiet, “Get some sleep.”

Sleep, unfortunately, did not come easy to you. You alternated between feeling like you were going to vomit and feeling like you were being stabbed. Your muscles ached, and it seemed to take all of your energy to rise your chest in a breath.

You tried to focus on the fire, on the way sparks flew from the wood, briefly illuminating the dark stone. The warmth of the flames was drifting toward the couch now, and you tried to adjust your body to move closer to it.

In your movement, though, you noticed the way your damp clothes felt different against your skin. The snow had soaked into the fabric, but the feeling you recognized in your core at your movement toward the fireplace had you nearly whimpering.

Azriel was there before you could make it fully off the couch, reaching his hands out to catch you from falling.

“What are you doing?”

“I- I need to-“

“-Lay down,” he interrupted. “Rest.”

You tried to breathe through the pain. Your vision was becoming blurry with each stab through your abdomen, and you honestly did not understand how you missed your symptoms earlier.

“I can’t, Azriel… I need-“

“-I know.” He gently guided you back onto the couch, hands pulling the blanket over you once again. “I know. Just breathe. I’ll be right back.”

Did he know? Could he sense it now? Could he smell the blood? Recognize the symptoms too?

There wasn't time to be embarrassed because he was gone again quickly, and you couldn’t help the tears that escaped at the pain running through your body.

When you had first met Feyre and she had told you the difference between fae and human cycles, you had nearly cursed the Mother for torturing your kind. You had been literally stabbed before, beaten, and burned, and nothing compared to the pain of your cycle.

“Here,” Azriel said, reappearing before you. He laid some sort of steaming broth he must have found in a cupboard on the table in front of you, along with some torn pieces of cloth, presumably from a towel found in the rest of the house.

You looked at the items, tears blurring your eyes again. You felt like you couldn’t move, everything ached, everything hurt, everything felt wrong-

“I need help,” you got out through your tears, your voice sounding weak even to yourself.

“Okay.” Azriel nodded. “That’s okay.”

He gripped under your legs and behind your back, pulling you up until you were on the edge of the couch. "I have changes of clothes for us in my bag. Do you want me to help you to the bathroom?”

You nodded, too embarrassed to look at him. Azriel didn’t say a word though, instead grabbing a few of the pieces of cloth, his bag off the ground, and scooped you up into his arms.

He walked you both to the bathroom, and you kept your face buried close to his chest both so you wouldn’t have to see if you got anything on the couch and so that Azriel wouldn’t see the redness in your cheeks.

When he entered the bathroom, he set you onto the counter before setting the supplies down. From his bag, he pulled out the extra pair of underwear, pants, bra, and shirt you had packed for yourself.

“Do you want to wash off?” He asked genuinely, glimpsing over his shoulder at the antique bathtub.

Did you want to be clean? Absolutely. But your entire body felt like it was going to fall through the floor, weighed down with aches, pain, and exhaustion. You weren’t even sure you could get your arms to move enough to scrub yourself clean.

You whimpered at your inability to do what you needed, at how weak you felt, and the frustration that coursed through your veins.

"Hey, it's okay." Azriel brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, bringing your eyes to meet his own. "What do you need? What can I do?"

You just shook your head, face flushing red. "I can't ask you to help me with this."

Because this was embarrassing and some males thought it was weak and gross and something to be kept taboo. You were quite literally bleeding through your leathers, with your abdomen, back, and legs all twisting and cramping in pain, heat scouring your body, and you felt like a little kid again -- needing to be taken care of, unable to do the basic task of looking after yourself. It was humiliating, but especially in front of Azriel of all people. Someone so composed, so strong.

It wasn't as if your friends didn't know about your cycle or what you female fae went through. On the contrary, they always offered to help where they could. If you missed out on training because of your cycle, Cassian would always bring up some tonics or some extra food and water to make sure you were okay. A few cycles that were particularly bad had Rhys sending after Madja, and Azriel rushing when he heard. He was the one who had advocated for Madja to give you some sleeping tonics to help you sleep through the pain instead of withstanding it.

But here? On a mission? This was too much.

"Why not?" Azriel's question brought you back to the present. He looked genuinely confused, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Azriel..." you pleaded with his questioning, arms wrapping around your stomach as pain hit you again. You swayed slightly on the counter, Azriel's hands dropping from your face to your waist to steady you.

"You're in pain." His voice was serious, and you wanted to hide your face in his chest. "Let me help you. I don't like seeing you like this."

You swallowed, trying to reign in your shame and embarrassment. It wasn't a big deal, you told yourself. This was natural. And Azriel is over five hundred years old, surely he's seen and dealt with cycles and all they entail before. It doesn't have to make a difference being yours.

"Okay," you whispered. "Could you- could you uh, help me wash off? I don't think I can..."

He didn't make you finish your sentence once he realized you didn't know how to explain your own weakness at the moment. He just nodded, bringing his hands to your arms and rubbing up and down comfortingly.

"Of course."

You nodded, more-so reassuring yourself that this was okay. He was okay. Right? He'd say if he was uncomfortable?

Azriel turned and twisted the faucet to the bathtub, fingers resting under the water that came out until he found the temperature pleasing. The water was clear, thankfully, and the tub looked clean as well.

Once that was filling, he turned to the cabinets you were seated on, bending down and looking through them for any kind of soap and towels. Finding the supplies he was looking for, he set them by the edge of the tub and turned to where you were sitting.

"Arms up?"

His question was hesitant, asking more than if you needed help. Did you want to completely undress? Were you comfortable with him seeing you like this?

You lifted your arms, the weight of your limbs feeling heavy. You wanted to throw up, to go to sleep, to cry.

Azriel's gentle hands moved the fabric up your torso, keeping his touch to the clothing only. Once it was free from your form, you nodded at him to keep going.

He grasped your hips and lifted you to stand, holding onto the majority of your weight when you seemed unstable. His hands gripped your own and brought them to his own torso.

"Hold onto me."

And you did, allowing yourself to lean into his strong form as he unbuttoned your snow-soaked pants and began to pull them down. You rested your head on his chest, turning your face into him to hide your embarrassment at the blood that no doubt coated your pants and your middle.

Tears pricked your eyes at how vulnerable this all was, but you blinked them away as Azriel backed up, your bare form now before him.

His casual look over you wasn't one of lust or desire but of care and concern. He was looking for injuries, hypothermia, anything that would need immediate attention before the bath. When he was satisfied, his gentle touch led you to the edge of the tub, grasping your forearm and helping you ease into the water.

You sank low into the heat, releasing a breath you hadn't known you had been holding from your cramps.

Azriel seemed to notice how you had been holding your breath too. He brought a hand up to push some of the sweat-slicked hair back from your forehead. "Make sure you're breathing, sweetheart."

You nod, closing your eyes and trying to relax through the stabbing in your back.

You could hear the soap bottle cap opening, the sound of liquid meeting a hand, and scrubbing. Peeking an eye open, you see Azriel getting his hands wet and reaching for one of your arms.

"Is this okay?" He asked.

Your heart thumped in your chest. He was too good for you. Better than any male you had ever met.

"Yes. Thank you." Your voice was small, weak in your state, but you both could hear the emotion in it.

"You don't have to thank me," Azriel responded, his hands moving up and down your arm softly before reaching for the other. "I'm sorry you have to go through this."

Humming in response, you sat up so he could help get your back. He was mindful of your comfort, sweeping over any vulnerable or inappropriate places lightly to ensure you were clean but never lingering.

While he washed, he told you stories of Rhys' sister. How when they were younger and she had gotten her first cycle, Rhys hadn't known what to do. None of them had. They thought she was dying, and Rhys' mother had to corral them together into the living room to get them to calm down and stop their panicking. He laughed at the story, and you couldn't help the relaxed giggles of your own.

"I can't imagine the stoic shadowsinger panicking over a girl's cycle."

His lips curved into a soft smile, eyes bright with adoration. "What do you think I'm doing now?"

You looked up at him, smiling. You couldn't believe how comfortable you felt, how normal this all felt. You were completely naked in front of him, completely bare to his touch while he sat clothed next to you, but it felt safe.

"You don't seem too panicked," you tried to tease.

He scoffed. "You should have seen me in the kitchen when we first got here. I was borderline scrambling."

You laughed, and he led you to a sitting position, stroking your back with his fingers lightly. "You ready to get out?"

At your confirmation, he scooped you up into his arms, no doubt getting water everywhere on the floor and also all over his own clothes. You squeaked in protest, but he didn't seem to care, only setting you back onto your feet and wrapping you up tightly in a towel.

Teeth chattering at the newfound cold outside of the bath, you gripped the towel around you, staring up into the bright hazel eyes of the male in front of you. He was still holding you tightly, eyes surveying your form. You wondered what he was thinking in this moment, but you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and let him keep holding you.

His hands moved with the towel, rubbing your arms before bringing the fabric down to your legs.

Right. You needed to get dressed.

"Here we go." Azriel grabbed your spare change of clothes, starting with your underwear. He took some of the makeshift pads he had created, placing one in the underwear before leaning down.

He looked up at you from his knees, and you wanted to frame the image. The sight of this angel, his dark hair messy from the snow, hazel eyes shining with care, on his knees for you, hands open to help take care of you. You wanted to jump on him, kiss him, and never let him stop touching you.

But this was Azriel, and he had never given you any inclination that was something he wanted.

You stepped into the fabric, allowing the shadowsinger to pull it up your legs. Once those were on, he bundled you up in your new shirt before holding the pants in front of you.

"Did you want to wait until we leave for these? They are leathers. I don't want you to be more uncomfortable just for the sake of feeling like you have to wear them."

"I'd rather not."

He nodded, setting them aside before wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you back to the couch.

You were feeling a little better now that you were clean and not bleeding down your legs, but you still felt drowsy and like someone was hacking your insides apart. On your way back, your knees nearly gave way with the pain of a particular cramp, and you couldn't help the cry that escaped with it.

Azriel caught you swiftly, hiking you back up into his arms.

When he laid you back onto the couch, now covered in blankets with even more on top of you, you looked up at the exhausted male. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said. He sounded genuine, but you couldn't help but feel guilty.

You gritted your teeth through the pain, gripping your abdomen tightly. "I ruined this mission."

"Nothing has been ruined."

He walked over to the fireplace once you were settled, stoking the logs to get the fire rising again. "Well," he continued. "Except your pants."

You couldn't help but laugh, and the shadowsinger actually cracked a smile at the sound. But then you were grimacing, tears coming to your eyes and your breath hitching in your throat at your body's attack on itself.

Azriel frowned, hands twitching at his sides.

"We'll get ahold of Rhys," he reassured. "Get you to Madja."

You tried to breathe through it, knuckles white from gripping the blankets around you. You could hear his footsteps getting closer, feel his heat as he kneeled down next to the couch beside you, feel his strong hands unravel your fingers from the blanket and grip them in his own.

His other hand came up and slowly stroked your hair back, gently weaving his fingers through the strands. Your eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch, despite how tightly you squeezed his hand.

"I'm okay," you tried to convince him. "It's just a cycle."

You weren't sure why you were trying to downplay your pain so much. Were you trying to come across stronger than you were? To impress him? Did you think he would truly find you weak?

"I've seen fae be out for a full week because of a cycle. Not eating or drinking, just trying to make it through... You don't have to be okay."

And it was as if you needed his permission, because as soon as the words left his mouth, you tilted your head back, eyebrows scrunching in pain, and let the truth flow past your own lips.

"Yeah, it fucking hurts."

He laughed, but the sound was sympathetic. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he placed a gentle kiss there, and you nearly shot up at the action. You tried not to think too much into it but his lips on your skin was something you couldn't just ignore.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

His voice was soft, gentle, reverent. And he was looking at you like he would do anything you asked. Like you could tell him to go sit in the snow for an hour while you basked in the heat, and he would stand up diligently before marching his way into the blizzard.

He looked at you expectantly, and your heart swelled. One day you would tell him. Tell him how you loved him, how you thought that maybe there was something there between you two, something that tied your souls and hearts together.

"I'm still kind of cold," you admitted. "Could you lay with me?"

At first you thought the question was a bit of a risk, something he might not be comfortable with. But then you thought about how you were completely naked before him not even twenty minutes prior, and you felt less embarrassed to ask.

"Are you sure? There's not much room."

You nodded, and he looked down at his own snow-soaked leathers. He grunted in disapproval and discomfort, reaching down and lifting the tight clothing from his body. You nearly gasped at the action, at the toned body that now faced you. Gods, he was beautiful.

He walked away briefly, presumably to gather his other change of clothes. He might have even cleaned up a bit, because when he appeared again, he looked clean and comfortable. And then he was reaching under the blankets to adjust where you laid.

His body sunk into the cushions of the sofa, and he gathered you into his arms until you were halfway on his chest, his soft and clean shirt overwhelming your senses as you curled into him.

You hummed. "This is nice."

His arms were loose around you, but his hand was resting purposefully curled around your side, his fingers inching over onto your abdomen in a protective and comforting gesture. As if he could take your pain away with just a touch.

"Try to rest. We should be able to get back to Velaris in the morning."

You pushed away the pain radiating through your body, the disorientation and dizziness, and instead focused on the warm muscled body underneath you. The way he encased you, the way he made you feel safe and at peace despite your current state. The way he cared for you.

You would tell him soon -- how you felt.

But for now, you buried your face deeper into his chest, your body falling lax against him. For now, you would rest and savor this moment.

For now, you would pretend like he was doing this because he loved you too. And you held onto that until sleep took your pain away.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar fic #azriel fluff

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sunflower-lilac42 · 5 months

Text

✧ 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | luke hughes (feat. quinn + jack) ♔

summary: the relationship between the hughes brothers is special, but the bond between quinn, jack, and luke’s girlfriend is something else or four times quinn and jack were there for luke's girlfriend when she couldn’t tell luke or luke wasn’t availble

warnings: finals (physics), stress, crying, mean comments, threats, fighting, car breaking down/running out of grass, being followed, angsty + fluffy, asshole luke

notes: happy almost (or now) new year everyone! i still have three hours (central time different fr). for the finals one you can pick whatever you want but i suck at physics so i put that but you can put math or something related to your own major if you want, also I gave you a 4.0 bc i can and it made sense for this. I tried to do as much with quinn and jack but my luke side was coming out a lot in the second and last one.

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

The One with the Finals | Quinn ~ Winter of 2023

The day before her physics final, y/n was in tears. There were papers not only all over her desk but on the walls and the ground as well. The whiteboard that hung in her apartment was littered with kinematics equations and a bunch of random vocabulary words that probably weren’t necessary for her final.

More tears sprung in her eyes as she looked at her review guide, “Who the fuck knows this shit?”

Her roommates had already gone home, finishing their finals the day before so she was alone. It was almost 7 and she had been studying for six hours, maybe more. She knew she should stop and take a break, make some dinner, maybe even watch a movie, but she couldn’t, not now, not when her grade was on the line.

She was so close, oh so close to being done but the last question was too much for her. It sent her brain into overdrive, the wires were crossed, and nothing made sense anymore, not that it ever did anyway. She let out a noise, a cross between a groan and a whine, and threw her notes down and her pencil across the room.

She took a peak at her phone and noticed the mass amount of messages from her boyfriend, a few from her parents, and a few from Luke’s family. The boy was so worried that he made his parents and Quinn and Jack text her just to see if she would answer, but she didn’t.

Now, no offense to Jack (but offense) and no offense to Luke, but they weren’t always the brightest of the bunch. Which is why she called Quinn, tears still obviously present.

“I’m going to fail.”

“Y/n? Luke’s been calling you for hours.”

“Yes, I know. I was studying for physics, and I’ve concluded that I’m going to fail.”

Quinn sat up from where he was lying on his bed, “No, you’re not.”

She let out a sob, “I am and then I’m going to get kicked out of school and everyone’s going to make fun of me and then Luke won’t want to date me anymore and then you guys will stop talking to me-”

“Hey! Calm down, none of that is going to happen because it’s not possible, y/n/n. What’s your GPA right now?”

“A 4.0.”

Quinn laughed, “Stop being so hard on yourself. You’re fine. I promise you, but if you feel that badly about it, I’ll help you study.”

“Really?”

“No, I’m fucking with you. Of course, I’ll help you. You’re my favorite sibling after all.”

“I’m not even related to you.”

“Yet.”

Y/n sent the PDF of the review guide to Quinn, who now sat at his desk on his computer. The two talked and studied with one another before Quinn realized the lack of color in the girl’s face, “Have you eaten yet?”

Y/n looked at him and then quickly looked down shamefully, “No.”

Quinn looked like he was going to yell at her but in reality, he was just worried, and the tiniest bit frustrated with her for not taking care of herself, not that he would ever tell her that though, “Go make dinner, you can bring me with if you want. I’ll even make my own.”

“But-”

“No, you’ll think better if you eat.” That could’ve been a total lie, but she would’ve listened to him anyway.

She took her phone and computer with her, still talking to Quinn as she made some ramen - the good kind, not the crappy instant one. Quinn smiled, happy with himself for making his brother’s girlfriend - or if he had it his and Jack’s way, his sister - take care of herself and feel better.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

She had just gotten done with her final and she screamed internally, walking out of the room and heading to her dorm, waiting for her family to pick her up. She called Quinn immediately after she stepped out of the building.

“Quinn! Quinn! Quinn! Guess what?!”

Quinn had been on his way to practice when he got the phone call, “What?”

“I passed!”

Quinn smiled, “See I told you, you would.”

“Thank you!"

✧༺✎༻∞

The One with the Haters | Jack ~ Fall of 2023

It never really bothered her, and Luke always said it shouldn’t. Yet, when Luke started his rookie year and gained more attraction, so did she. They were worse than what they were before, they came in mass amounts, the words dug deeper, and everything seemed to escalated.

This wasn’t something that should’ve burdened Luke, he had enough to deal with it being his rookie season and trying to perform as well as he could, he didn’t need to hear about his fans attacking his girlfriend as well. Luke was, let’s just say, the most oblivious of them all. So she didn’t really have to worry about him finding out about it, anyway.

However, Jack knew about her mood changes. Every time she visited the two in New Jersey, she distanced herself from them, she took notice of who was around them when they went out and strategically sat next to Luke so people wouldn’t make accusations of her favoring Jack over him but not too close to him that it would seem like she’s attached and overbearing him.

He also took notice of the comments on his brother’s Instagram posts or whenever the wags would post y/n at a game.

‘He’s too good for her.’

‘Why does she even come? It’s obvious he doesn’t want her there, he doesn’t even play well when she’s there.’

‘She’s just using him.’

‘7 don’t know what he sees in her.’

‘She’s not that pretty.’

Those barely scratched the surface of the comments. There were more, most about her looks and another good chunk of them just saying how the two didn’t make sense together. But the ones that hurt the worst, were the ones that came up once or twice in every ten posts. The ones that were about her using him, the ones that made threats to her and her family. The ones claiming that they knew everything about her life. The ones that said she was cheating on Luke with Jack or Quinn.

Jack had his fair share of hate comments, many of which he remembered from his rookie season. He knew how it felt to have someone close to him be praised so much and then be torn down for simply having a relationship with them and not being as good.

The Devils were visiting Detroit near the late end of November and y/n decided to go to the game, hanging out with them the two days that they flew down early to be with her before the game. They were out at a restaurant and y/n was sitting in the very corner of the booth that they got.

Luke sat down next to her as Jack slid into the other side of the booth, still bantering with his brother. Luke was oblivious to the distance between him and y/n, shrugging it off as if she was just hot. Luke and Jack continued to talk about the game, stopping for the waiter to take their order who just so happened to be a fan of the Devils. Y/n rolled her eyes as she subtly flittered with her boyfriend, giving Jack a look.

The waiter walked away and Luke got up and left to the bathroom, “So when are you going to tell him? Or are you waiting for him to figure it out by himself?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Y/n dug her face into the menu, avoiding eye contact with Jack.

“Uh huh, sure. Then what are these?” Jack showed the girl his phone, comments from Luke’s most recent post showing.

“Jack.”

“Y/n.”

“There’s not much he can do about it anyways, they’ll keep doing it no matter what. Besides, they’re not wrong.”

“He has a right to know and no, nothing they say is true. You are Luke’s world and he will defend you until he dies. If someone is threatening you, which there is, he will find a way to stop it. And Quinn and I will help too. We want you safe.” Jack reached over the table to pat her shoulder.

She nodded, “Just talk to him. Okay?”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Later that night, Luke was in bed with y/n, both of them on their phones. Luke was playing a game and y/n was on Instagram. She hadn’t actively searched out the comments but when she saw a post of her with 200 comments under it, she had to look, and they weren’t all that different from what she was expecting.

“Luke?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course, what’s up?”

“Have you seen the comments?”

“What comments?”

“These.” She handed Luke her phone and watched as he scrolled through them, and before he could say anything, she took it back and showed him her DM’s.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? We could’ve done something to stop this.” She just shrugged.

“Sweetheart, this is scary. I don’t you to have to endure this by yourself, nonetheless.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine.”

“But you’re not. I know everyone thinks I’m oblivious, and yes, sometimes I am, but I can see you’re hurting and you have been for a while. I might not have known why or how but I was so worried about you, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to stop this.”

Luke placed his hands on her face and she wrapped her hands around his wrists. His thumbs lightly rubbed over her face, just under her eye, as hers rubbed up and down his hands, stopping at his knuckles to rub over them as well. She smiled slightly at him but was still worried about everything that was going on.

“Hey,” Luke made her look up at him. “Everything is going to work out, no matter how long or how much it’s gonna take. I’m going to get Quinn and Jack to help, I’ll have the team help as well. We’re all going to help to make sure you and your family are safe. I promise.”

She nods, “Okay.”

He kissed her forehead before her lips and pulled back to smile at her.

✧༺✎༻∞

The One with the Car | Quinn + Jack ~ Summer of 2023

Despite dating for three years, y/n was never really the biggest fan of letting Luke help her, she wasn’t the biggest fan of anyone helping her, to be honest. That’s why when she was in the middle of nowhere, scared out of her mind and not thinking straight, she hesitated to call her boyfriend.

It was the summer, she had been visiting the Hughes family at the lake house and she had gone to get some food for dinner for her, Quinn, and Jack. She wasn’t lost per se, when she left she knew how to get back home, she had been there countless times before. Yet, she felt as if she was being followed and that scared her, causing her to go a different route home, one she wasn’t that familiar with, and even then she sort of knew where she was.

The car was still following her so she decided to start taking random turns here and there and when she did the trick she was taught, take four right turns, they left after the first one. She let out a deep breath and continued to drive, just to see if they would pop up again, but they didn’t and now she was in the middle of nowhere, with an almost empty tank of gas.

Back at the lake house, Quinn, and Jack sat in the living room. Ellen, Jim, and Luke decided to go out for dinner to a fancy restaurant, and the whole nine yards, the other three weren’t bothered to even move from their seats. In hindsight, should they have just gotten Uber Eats or DoorDash, yes, but y/n wanted to get out of the house, just to a certain extent.

She didn’t want to interrupt her boyfriend’s time with his parents so she called Quinn, voice wavering, “Quinn.”

“Hey, y/n. Where are you? We thought you would be back by now.”

“About that. I’m sort of in the middle of nowhere and there was this car that was following but they stopped but I also don’t know if they just left and are coming back because they knew I was onto them-”

“Hey, calm down. Send me your location, Jack and I are on our way. Keep us on the phone and if you see them come back just start driving.”

“I’m almost out of gas.”

“We’ll hurry, just keep a lookout, okay?”

Five minutes passed and the boys were almost already halfway there, speeding the whole way as much as possible. She looked up and in the rearview mirror, there were headlights, “Guys? Is that you?”

Jack and Quinn looked at each other in confusion, “No?”

“Well, shit.” Y/n turned her car on and immediately pressed on the gas.

The car didn’t follow her, simply turned on the street behind where her car had been, but she didn’t know that, so she kept driving until her car was out of gas, “I’m out of gas.”

“We’re almost there, you should see us, right… about… now.” She looked up and saw them, easily recognizing the car. She got out of the car and practically ran to them.

Quinn hugged her back when her arms wrapped around him, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did anyone follow you?”

She shook her head, “I’m fine, just still a little spooked.”

Jack stood off to the side and only now had y/n just noticed, “Hi Jack.” She looked at him tentatively. Contrary to her belief, Jack loved hugs, especially y/n’s hugs. She always thought differently, so she always hesitated to hug him.

Yet, when he opened his arms, she ran into them just as she did with his older brother, “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Always.”

✧༺✎༻∞

The One with the Fight | Quinn + Jack - April of 2023

“I just don’t understand, Luke.”

“Of course, you don’t you never do!”

They had been arguing on and off all day, everything the other person did set them off, it was hours of pointless and petty arguing. Realistically, they both had been in the wrong, but Luke screwed up the most. It was when they both found out that he would be going to Jersey.

She had scheduled plans with friends earlier that week, but she would’ve dropped everything to hang out with Luke and help him pack. She offered to do that but Luke declined, saying he could handle it and he wanted her to go out and have fun with her friends. Truthfully, they had been spending almost every waking moment together since they knew.

“You were to one that told me to go hang out with them! I offered to help you and stay with you, but you declined!”

“I never said that.”

Y/n gave him a look that said all the different, “You’re such a fucking liar.”

“Oh, I’m the liar?”

“Yes!”

“If you loved me, you would’ve stayed back, anyways. And you know what? I’m done with this conversation. Don’t wait up.” Luke took his duffle bag and suitcase and left y/n’s dorm.

She stared at the door as it slammed practically in her face. The silence was deafening in the room, you could hear the barking of dogs and horns blaring from outside. If you listened hard enough you could hear the wind slapping against the window.

For two minutes she stood there, staring at the door, body still and her hair blowing from the AC. She snapped out of her trance when she felt a lone tear roll down her face. Since then, it was one after another and she ran to grab her phone from her nightstand dialing Jack’s number.

Jack answered confused, “Hello?”

“I think Luke might be on his way to Jersey.”

“But he’s not supposed to leave yet.”

“We got into a fight and he sort of-” She choked on a sob, “stormed out of here with his duffle and suitcase.”

“What do you mean you guys got into a fight? You guys never fight.”

“Yeah well ‘never’ is a fucking stupid word. And this is totally not the point of this phone call, Jack. Can you just make sure he’s okay? I don’t want him getting hurt or anything.”

“Luke’s a big boy and if he decided to come here on a whim then he can handle it. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Tears still were streaming down her face and she picked at her nails as she slid down the wall, landing on the floor.

“What happened, y/n/n?”

“It was stupid, it was my fault.”

“You’re lying.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re voice is more intense when you lie because you try to convince everyone you’re right by sounding more confident.”

“So why do you know that and not Luke?” She balled to the older boy, placing her head in her hands, the phone dropping from her grasp.

“Y/n? Y/n!” Jack tried to gain her attention but failed, causing him to add Quinn to the call.

“Jack? Y/n? What’s up?”

“Y/n answer us.”

“What’s going on?”

“Y/n! Come on, please answer.”

“I’m sorry, I dropped my phone.”

“Can someone please explain to me what is going on? And where is Luke?”

“Luke fucked up is what’s going on,” Jack said, annoyed.

Y/n now sat against her bed and her phone propped up on the wall, switching to face time, “We got into a fight.”

“You guys never fight.”

“Yes, I’m aware, now can we move on from that fact because it happened and it’s over with.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“He was mad because he’s supposed to be leaving soon and I went out with my friends after I had already offered to stay back and help him pack and everything like that but he said no. So, he’s right, it is my fault. If I loved him, I would’ve stayed.”

The was a simletanous silence from the boys before a loud, “He said that?!”

“Yeah? Why? Is he right? I knew he was right.”

“No, no, no of course not. He’s not right. He’s a fucking dick for saying that.”

“But I should’ve stayed with him, he’s leaving soon.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

“Y/n/n, listen to me right now. Nothing you did tonight was your fault. Maybe something that we don’t know that happened you did, but what he said… you didn’t deserve that. He knows how much you love him and if he stooped that low to make you feel bad, then maybe he should take some time to cool off. I’m not saying that he should’ve left the way he did, but maybe some space is good.” Quinn explained to her.

She nodded but tears were still falling, “Do you think he’s going to break up with me? I mean, he’s going to go off and be in the NHL and I’m just going to be me. I’m nothing special.”

Jack and Quinn made eye contact through the phone and Jack went to say something but was interrupted, “You’re everything to me.”

She snapped her head to the door and saw Luke standing there, his bag falling to the ground. She stood up quickly, wiping her face rid of any signs of her crying, “Luke.”

“How could you say that about yourself?”

Quinn and Jack hung up the phone, not wanting to interrupt their conversation despite them wanting to be there just in case he said something out of line. Luke wrapped his arms around the girl, “You are the most amazing person ever. I’m so sorry if I made you feel any differently.”

Y/n just shrugged, not bothered by that but more so the fight itself. Luke pulled back, saddened slightly by the lack of reciprocation in the affection, “And I am so sorry for what I said. I know you love me and I know I said you could hang out with your friends. I think just deep down I thought you would’ve stayed anyways and I was scared of leaving you.”

Y/n nodded and Luke’s hands went to her cheeks, wiping off the remnants of her mascara, “I understand, Luke. I just wish you would’ve handled it more like an adult than a teenager.”

“And I can’t even begin to explain how horrible I feel about that.”

“Can we just cuddle?”

“Anything you want.”

The two laid in better for a little while as they hadn’t wanted to do anything else. An hour later, y/n spoke, “I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I do. Emotions were high and I know that shouldn’t be the way we should handle things but we’re both stressed and you’re leaving soon I just want to forget about it.” Luke nodded, wanting to respect her wishes, “I love you, Lukey.”

“I love you.”

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #hockey #nhl #luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes x reader #jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x platonic!reader #quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x platonic!reader #hughes brothers #hughes brothers x reader #nj devils #vancouver canucks

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sugusearrings · 6 months

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( ' summertime sadness ' ) oh my god, i feel it in the air telephone wires above are sizzlin' like a snare honey, i'm on fire, i feel it everywhere nothing scares me anymore. kiss me hard before you go summertime sadness i just wanted you to know, that, baby, you the best.

— summary: it's been a hard summer for suguru geto to adjust and deal with his emotions. while his best friend satoru gojo has been on a lot of solo missions lately, he's been spending a lot of time with you (fem!reader). — genre: smut ending with fluff — playing: summertime sadness by lana del rey — note(s): this is my first writing smut in a real long time. it won't be my last but i'm sorry if it wasn't spicy enough. i'm kind of rusty i sorry :( hints of virginity lost but not necessarily. — word count: 3k

— warnings: vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex (female receiving ), missionary, doggy, mating press, cumshot, squirting, and finger sucking

Maybe it was the heat wave.

Maybe it was the curse he digested not too long ago.

But Suguru was throwing up more than he usually does.

His eyes closed tightly as he felt everything come rushing out of his mouth to pour into the toilet bowl. Even when there was nothing left in his stomach to puke, his body kept going.

But you were behind him holding onto his dark silky locks so they wouldn’t get in the way or inside of the murky water. Despite him being in the middle of throwing up his insides, he was embarrassed to do this in front of you.

“It’s okay, Sugu..” you reassured him like you knew what he was thinking of. You rubbed his back gently with your free hand. His eyes glanced over his shoulder to you, he saw the small smile on your lips. He looked over back to the toilet seeing everything he’s eaten today. Maybe even yesterday too.

When he was finished, you reached over to flush it down. You went to get him a bottle of water while he washed his face. His face was flushed and hot. His throat was aching along with his stomach feeling hollow.

After drying it away with the spare wash cloth you had just for him, he took his extra toothbrush you bought him. As he brushed his teeth his amethyst color hues stared back at him. The lack of sleep was catching up to him. His dark circles were so noticeable these days. He knew you must have noticed them too. But you didn’t say anything, you have some of your own if you didn’t cover yours with makeup.

Your dorm had the biggest windows and nobody knew exactly why. But it came handy when it was the summer. Winter not so much. Suguru sat on the windowsill with the window wide open. There was barely a breeze and when there was one, it was a warm one.

He had a cigarette in the middle of his lips. It was quiet today. Satoru must still be away on his mission. He wasn’t exactly sure where Shoko was. So that just left you and him. It’s been like that for the past few weeks.

He could hear your gentle voice singing softly as you showered. As much as you whined about the brutal cold, you hated the warm weather. You didn’t like to sweat. Suguru couldn’t blame you for that. The smoke slowly blew out of Suguru’s thin lips as he just zoned out.

“Shoko’s bad habit is rubbing off on you.”

His eyes averted to you once he heard your voice. You wore an oversized shirt (his shirt that went missing a week ago) with nothing but your nude panties underneath. When you stretched the shirt rode up exposing the fabric that barely covered your rear. He couldn’t help but to stare. The amount of time you two spent together comfortability was formed. There was times you would change clothes in front of him and he would do the same. You never caught him staring but that’s because he knew how not to get caught.

“You see a flaw in Shoko?” Suguru teased you then took another pull. You smiled to yourself, placing your dirty uniform in the hamper.

“Cigarettes don't have a better taste, y’know?” You reminded him. He knew you were concerned about his health. You were always concerned about him. Suguru was hard to read for others but when it came to you. It was like you saw what he was thinking like it was written on his forehead. Suguru swore you had some kind of unique curse technique but you just reassured him you’re very observant. He still doesn’t believe that till this day.

“You don’t know what those curses taste like.”

Suguru put out the cigarette then flicked it away. He took his bottle of water.

“True but I could tell they’re bitter.”

You sat down on the edge of your bed. Your hair was still damp from the shower reaching past your shoulders now. He noticed how fast it was growing. He also noticed the dark circles of your own now. It wasn’t as dark as his but close enough. You looked so much younger without the makeup. He didn’t mind either but you not wearing makeup might be his favorite.

“What gave you that clue?”

He tilted his head to the side with a sly smirk. You both chuckled at the same time. A comfortable silence came afterwards. The breeze was cool now thanks to your shower. You glanced down at your bare feet.

“So they don’t come in different flavors?”

“Why the sudden interest in this again?”

Suguru never really recalled you or anyone really asking him about the taste. You shrugged your shoulders crossing your legs over the other. His eyes sneaked down to look at your bare legs. He could tell without even touching them they were so smooth. He quickly looked back up at you before you noticed.

“I’m just asking, Sug. I just wish,” you let out a soft sigh, “I just wish I knew how to consume them so you wouldn’t have too.”

A light blush crept on Suguru’s cheeks.

“Name…even if you could, I wouldn’t let you.” He smiled. “But thank you.”

“Anytime.” You smiled back. You laid back on the bed and closed your eyes. The heat started to slowly kick in. By the end of the night you knew you were going to take another shower.

“I bet your flavor is sweet.”

Suguru’s honey-like voice broke your thoughts. Your body shot up, feeling your eyes widened. Then you looked across to your friend who hasn’t moved from his spot. You blinked a few times before clearing your throat.

“H-huh?”

“You’ve been eating a lot of fruit lately. Especially cherries.” He told you nonchalantly with a shrug. You bit down on your bottom lip feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. You thought about the times you would eat your cherries after training because you would get hungry. You didn’t want a big meal to sit in your stomach plus cherries were in season.

Suguru would watch you bite down into the dark red fruit being careful not to bite into the seed. You would suck the remains on the seed before you placed them back into your container not wanting to throw them onto the ground. Your lips would a faint red after eating them all.

“T-they’re my favorite.” You mumbled shyly shifting a bit in your seat now. Suguru chuckled lightly.

“Am I making you nervous, name?”

“N-No!” You quickly answered. He let out a laugh, you haven’t heard him laugh like that in weeks. You didn't realize how much you missed the sound of his beautiful laughter.

“You’re lying.”

“Am not.”

“You think you’re the only one who can be observant?” He countered. You part your lips but close them making a thin line. He smirked knowing he used your own words against you.

Sure Suguru would flirt with you but so would Satoru. It didn’t mean anything, right?

But Suguru didn’t speak to Shoko like that and Satoru was just a natural flirt. You slowly shook your head. Suguru stood up from the windowsill. “You’re right, name. Cigarettes don’t taste any better. But I don’t have anything to replace it”

He was walking towards you now. Your breathing picked up but couldn’t be heard. His cat-like eyes stared at you like you were his prey caught in the corner. “I am very convinced you can help me with that.” He stood in front of you. You bit down on your bottom lip.

“H-how can I do that?” You asked nervously. Suguru smiled at your curiosity.

“Easy,” he sat down next to you to move your hair behind your ear to lean close, “let me taste you.” he whispered in a husky tone. You stiffened up with your face completely flushed and it wasn’t because of the heat. You both just stared at each other for a few moments.

Maybe it was the heat wave or the curse he just ate

Or maybe he was tired of hiding these urges he had whenever you would come around.

The way your skirt would flow when you would run or jump to block attacks. The way you stared up at him with your doe eyes. The way you would brush against him so close he could smell your perfume you would spray on the side of your neck.

But Suguru needed to taste you.

Suguru was down on his knees in front of the edge of the bed. Your leg was draped on his shoulders. Your panties were already on the floor completely forgotten. His eyes were half closed not wanting to miss the pleasure on your face as his tongue swirled inside your gummy walls. His tongue would creep and twirl around your swollen clit. You did your best to keep your moans down, not wanting to be loud. But Suguru was making it so hard.

"F…uck…S-ugu…mmf!” You muffled underneath your hand to contain your volume. Your toes curled behind his shoulders. Suguru wasn’t shy to make any noise. You could hear his tongue moving against your wet core. Whenever you tried to squirm, he would use his hands that were placed on your thigh to give you a tight squeeze as a warning.

He pulled his mouth away and replaced them with his two forefingers. He dragged them slowly up and down your wet slit.

“Just like I said, sweet.” His sultry voice spoke to you. You looked down to meet his gaze. His lips glistened from your wetness and his saliva. He had a smirk. He saw you try to shy away breaking the eye contact you two were sharing. He found it so cute.

“Don’t act all shy now, pretty girl. We’re only getting started.” He slowly pushed his two fingers at once. You could feel the pressure of your wells stretching for his long thick fingers. “You’re so tight, baby.” He groaned, pressing his tongue back inside of you. He was always good at mulit-tasking.

Suguru felt himself feeling a natural high. Maybe it was the heat that spiked this feeling but he was sure it was your pussy. The leftover taste of the curse completely washed away by your juices overflowing his taste buds. Your clit was throbbing against his thumb. You started to feel your lower abdomen tightening now.

“S-Suguru! Please!” You cried out reaching down to grab some of his dark hair. He made loud slurping and sucking sounds. He moaned against you to give vibrations like a tease. He pushed your thighs open as wide as they can be. He glanced up then back down at your pretty puffy lips. He pumped his fingers in and out at a fast pace. Your legs began to fidget.

“Are you going to cum, my pretty girl?” He taunted you. You nodded your head feeling your hips move on their own against his fingers.

“S-so…so bad I-I wanna cum.”

“What’s stopping you?” he smiled.

That’s when you finally lost it and gave in. You loosened your lower body into the pressure. Suguru flattened his tongue feeling a gush of your juices coming down. He moaned how much it was and how sweet it tasted. He didn’t want to waste not one drop. Even on his fingers he sucked down on them. He turned to you laying on your back, trying to gain composure. Your lower body was exposed but you still had his shirt on. He felt the warm breeze brushed against the back of his neck.

He forgot about the window that was still open.

“Take it off.”

He told you as he went back to close the window then pulled the curtains. As much as he didn’t care, he didn’t want someone to see the way you make those cute faces when you receive pleasure. That’s for his eyes only. You slowly sat up feeling your legs stiff and weak. The room was dark now the curtain was closed. He looked over at you still with his shirt on. “You really don’t like to listen do you, hm?”

“I-I -”

He walked back over to you. He started to pull the bottom of the shirt over your body. Your arms automatically rose to help him remove the last bit of clothing you had left. It wasn’t too dark in your room. He could still see your breasts bounce back into place on your chest. He smiled.

“Such a pretty girl.” he purred. He removed his regular white shirt along with his loose joggers. You swallowed and moved to the middle of the bed. Your eyes gazed down at him slipping out of his boxers. He sprung free and you nearly choked. You couldn’t get over how he was just perfect everywhere.

His cock just thick and long. He had a few perfect veins, one vein going up to his tip that was already leaking of pre-cum. Suguru noticed you staring and chuckled lightly.

“We’ll make it fit, pretty girl. I promise.”

“H-how?” You blurted out leaning back on the few pillows you had on your bed.

“I have some kind of experience.” His larger frame hovered over you. You raised your bright brow.

“Oh?”

“Mhm.”

It shouldn’t have bothered you but it was more of a bit of this new found jealousy. This new feeling. Or maybe you always felt like this and just repressed it. Like that one time you overheard Suguru speaking with Mei Mei. Of course she was flirting with him but he also flirted back. You felt some kind of tightening in your chest. You gave him a whole silent treatment for the rest of the day. He was so clueless why you did. He did apologize.

Suguru could see your puzzled face. He leaned down to press his lips against your own. Your stupid thoughts were pushed to the side once the kiss began to heat up. His tongue claimed dominance you knew you couldn’t fight for. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your tongues massaged against each other.

He aligned himself a bit since he was so much taller than you.

“There’ll be some discomfort.” He mumbled against your lips. You rolled your eyes as you pulled away to scoff.

“I’ve been stabbed and thrown out of a building how many times?”

“Not many because Satoru and I were always there to -”

“Suguru.” You cut him off with a glare. He laughed and gave you another kiss.

He dragged his tip up and down your slit. You let out a shaky breath already making a mess just with that alone. Suguru took note and smirked. “I didn’t even do anything and you’re already a wet mess, pretty girl.” He purred.

“S-shut up and fuck me…” you breathed out. He was amused how eager you were starting to become.

“Hmm…you could say it a lot nicer, name.”

“Suguru I swear I –”

He pushed his tip against you. You gasped then your doe eyes widened. You gazed up at him. He studied your face before pushing further. A strong pressure was being pressed against you. Suguru sucked in a harsh breath. “I need you to relax, name. Be a good girl for me.”

It was like his voice put you under a spell.

You nodded slowly and tried your best to ease your body. He kissed along your neck and shoulder. You felt his hair brushing against your heated cheek. You bit your lip trying to contain a moan from coming out. He nibbled down on your collar bone then began to suck down on it. After he was done he went to breasts and sucked down on your nipple. His tongue swirled around it slowly with his eyes staring up at you.

After a few moments, Suguru pushed the tip inside of you. Another shaky breath escaped your lips.

“You’re doing a good job, baby. Just like that…” he whispered into the crook of your neck. It didn’t take long till he was able to push more of his thick grith inside of your tight core. You felt a sharp discomfort like Suguru warned you. He stood still so your tight warms could adjust for his cock. “You’re okay baby?” You mumbled a mhm and gave him a nod.

This definitely wasn’t like being stabbed or thrown out of a building.

He strokes your cheek and admires your facial features. You were used to him staring at you but not too closely. You tried your best not to break eye contact. But even in the slight darkness, he could see how your cheeks darken. You look beautiful as ever to him.

“Y-you can move, Sugu…” you whispered.

“Are you sure?”

You nod. He gave you another kiss then he began to thrust his hips slowly. The slight discomfort came back but the pleasure started to mask over the pain. You began to pant heavily when Suguru picked up his pace. You were moaning and whining with the movement of your hips trying to follow his rhythm. The jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine.

Since the curtains were closed the room’s temperature began to rise. A light form of sweat formed on your forehead making your hair press against it. Suguru could feel a thin layer of sweat on his back.

“Mmm…fuck…this pussy is so good to me.” He moaned into your ear. His moan alone made you become a sloppier mess. He was able to push deeper inside of your gummy walls. Your walls expand for his cock hitting your spot over and over.

“Suguru…a-ahhh..”

He rolled his hips then began to pound into you. Your nails raked down his lower back then clung into your skin feeling your back being pressed into the mattress. The headboard was banging into the wall behind it. Thankfully you’re not next to anyone.

“Suguru!” You screamed out. Suguru smirked. Sure he didn’t want to get caught but hearing you yell his name out, he was willing to take the risk.

“Squeeze me, name. That’s it. Good girl. Your pretty pussy is hugging my cock so tight.”

“I-I…y-you…Sugu” You couldn’t even form a sentence being a rambling mess at this point. Cock drunk for the first time. Your vision was blurry with tears of pleasure but you could see Suguru’s beautiful face flushed. Your hand reached behind to hold onto the headboard. But he snatched it away and laced your fingers together.

“You’re mine, you hear me, name? All mine.” He breathed into your neck before he licked up your pulse. You nodded rapidly.

“A-all yours, Sugu…” you babbled, feeling his lips leave kisses on your chest down to your neck again. He loved to hear you become so vulnerable to him. "Forgot how to use your words, pretty girl? I thought you were a smart girl." He chuckled pushing your thighs to your chest and your legs against the headboard. You held your breath feeling him slide deeper you swore you could feel him in your guts. "Well look at that, you're completely stuff with me now." His eyes stared down watching your pussy engulfing him whole. He could see himself twitch inside of her. "S-Sugu...p-please..." you whined just aching for him. His eyes moved to your face. He smirked seeing how desperate you were for him. Your eyes barely open and cheeks darkening from the temperature of the room. He started to pound into you feeling every inch of him in this new position. "F-Fuck! Ngh!" You cried out not able to move with him pressing your thighs down on your chest with his board chest against your legs. He was heavily panting onto your face. He pressed his forehead against yours then leaned in for a kiss. It was a sloppy kiss but it made it easier for him to just go as deep as he wanted. You both could hear how wet you were with the loud sounds your pussy made with each time he pounded into you.

He suddenly pulled out of you completely.

You backed away from the kiss, confused and whiny.

“Suguru..” you whined out in the dark.

“Don’t be a brat now, princess,” he chuckled, then moved your body so you can be lying on your stomach, “I think you can handle me like this now, hm?”

His voice was so taunting and sexy at the same time. He could have made you do whatever he wanted. You nodded your head.

“Y-yes! Please just…need your cock back inside of me.”

Your hips moved eagerly. He reached over to grab a pillow and lifted your lower body to put your pillow underneath you.

“Arch your back…such a good girl. Look at you taking orders now.” He placed his hand on the fat of your ass. He lifted it up to see your swollen puffy folds, dripping to your inner thighs. He smiled admiring you. “I can’t believe you were hiding this from me. I’ll remember that for punishment later on.”

Your eyes widen and a faint blush crept on your cheeks.

“Geto…”

“Oh. You’re addressing me like that?”

He placed a smack on your ass cheek. You whined and buried your face back into the pillow, closing your eyes tightly. He squeezed and massaged the fat of your ass before he greeted your slit with his tongue again. Your lips part to let out a faint moan, moving your hips back to him.

Suguru removed his tongue to replace it with his cock. He pushed back into you hearing a small wince for you. He started to slam his hips into your ass. Your walls clench around him, squeezing him tighter than before. One hand tightened on your hip then the other was placed on the back of your neck and squeezed. Your face being pushed into the pillow.

“Fuuuuuck. Name, n-name….”

You nearly came just hearing the way he moaned your name. Suguru felt his cock throbbing. You were babbling, slight drool coming from the corner of your mouth. Tears from the corner of your eyes going down your flushed cheeks. You came for the third time before Suguru gave you one last harsh thrust and release his warm load into you.

Your heavy panting and breathing matched with his. He slowly pulled out watching his load leaking out of you now. He took two of his fingers and coated them with it. He brought them to your lips.

“Suck.”

You lazily leaned over to place your mouth over his fingers and do what you were told. When you finished, he moved your hair out of your face. He leaned down to kiss you and your shoulder over the marks he left.

He wondered how noticeable they were going to be. Suguru got up and went to get your wash cloth then came back to clean you up. After placing the washcloth in the hamper, he laid next to you in the stuffy room rubbing your back. You couldn’t keep your eyes open and went to sleep instantly. He chuckled, kissing your lips then got up to shower.

Suguru felt better after the cool shower he had. He placed your blanket over your naked body as you snored quietly. He grabbed his stolen shirt that was thrown onto the floor and put it on.

He walked over to the window to open the curtain half way. He was greeted by the cool breeze.

He sat on the windowsill and went to light another cigarette but he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Hey! Name! Have you seen Suguru? He hasn’t been answering my calls or texts!” Satoru’s voice was heard behind the door as he kept knocking.

Suguru gazed over to you then got up to answer the door. He opened the door enough for him to see Suguru but not enough to see you. Satoru was surprised Suguru answered the door. His eyes were slightly larger but a grin formed on his lips.

“Speak of the devil himself.”

“Didn’t expect you back so soon, Satoru.” Suguru smiled back. Satoru scoffed at his best friend .

“Only the weak would struggle with that kind of mission. Speaking of, where’s name?”

Suguru made a mental note of how often Satoru would come to your room. Alone.

“She’s asleep. The heat made her a bit fatigued.” He answered. Satoru nodded.

“It is fucking hot today.” He began to unbutton a few buttons on his uniform shirt. That’s when his eyes lowered down to Suguru.

“Hey! Suguru, you found your shirt! Where was it?”

“Name stole it.”

Suguru smiled softly. A smile he hasn't had in weeks.

2K notes · View notes

httpsserene · 7 months

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𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟰: 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗼 / 𝗺𝗮𝘅 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗺𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you can't remember the last time you've gotten to spend more than three days at a time with both of your boyfriends. you understand how demanding their job is but, you just can't remember the last time they really exhausted you...pleasurably. and then winter break comes around , and they have all the time they need to make you lose your mind. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. overstimulation. light dom/sub. quickies. cunnilingus. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. unsafe sex. safewords. creampie. come eating. squirting. hand job. masturbation. dacryphilia. mention of taking explicit photos. praise kink. aftercare. set after the 2023 season. no beta we die like carlos’ fuel system. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 6.5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: daniel ricciardo/max verstappen x black!fem!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: take me away • daniel caesar

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: set post 2023 season. mm, i luv me some danny caesar–i got to see him live this year 😛 i was originally gonna pick a classic country song in true american fashion to show some patriotism for the austin gp—as a black woman, i can attest that we love our country bangers—but take me away just fit perfectly. and daniel is definitely taking yall somewhere this upload—max and reader are just along for the ride 💀. i tried to write sub!max, i think it came across well, and ahead of time i sincerely apologize to the maxiel truthers…i think i may have slayed. i will not be paying for your therapy < 3 🙂 (and if you think i changed the summary, stfu no i didn’t 😌) enjoy y'all !!!!

do you want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

to see what kinktober uploads have already been completed or to see what's coming next check my f1 kinktober masterlist ! for all of my works see my general masterlist!

this past racing season was long; daniel knows that well; he went from being the third driver at red bull, to having a seat at alphatauri, to breaking his wrist–and still managed to recover to drive in the last five races. max can also account for how lengthy this season was; he dominated every race illustrated by his 10 consecutive wins, won his team the constructor’s championship 16 races in, won his third world driver’s championship the following week through a sprint race, and still had to stick around for five more races. but, daniel and max both know who has the best firsthand account of how prolonged and draining the formula one 2023 season was.

you.

daniel knows that you’re they’re biggest supporter; you’re a sweetheart. and while you haven’t vocalized your displeasure for the twenty-three races this year–he can feel your dejection. at the start of the season, everything was seen through rose-colored glasses; max was winning, the three of you were having champagne-drenched celebrations in hotel rooms–so filthy the poor staff probably had to incinerate the sheets. you were satisfied; and daniel was with you whenever red bull didn’t want to parade him around at a grand prix. but as the months progressed and as daniel got a seat, the demanding nature of formula one was observable. the longer season had stolen them from you–they were flying from country to country, the gaps between races only long enough to only have them home for two or three days at a time, before they had to fly out and adjust to a new time zone. leaving your two boyfriends unable to make a mess of you as often as you all crave in doing so. phone sex is hot–but it can lose its luster over almost nine months. they’ve been neglecting you–even though every time either one of them suggests that notion, you disagree vehemently– but, it’s the truth.

they pride themselves on the fact that they used to make you beg for them to stop drawing orgasms out of you...but recently your sex life has consisted of dry-humping like horny teenagers, frantic pussy-eating and cock-sucking, and quickies in the shower. so, max and daniel formulated a plan.

after abu-dhabi, the three of you returned home to max’s monaco flat and fell into bed. you’re comfortably laying completely on top of daniel, front to front, and your head is tucked under his chin, turned to the side to face max, who’s settled on his side facing the two of you, arm draped over your back, with his hand squeezing at your waist randomly as he talks to daniel. you’re fighting sleep and losing; eyelids fluttering closed every now and then against your will, breath slowing as you edge closer and closer to sleep. you're floating on the brink of unconsciousness until you're dragged away at the soft sounds of daniel and max rousing you.

“there ya’ go, honey,” murmurs daniel, his voice rumbling in his chest underneath you, “we got somethin’ to ask you, before we let ya sleep, sweet girl.”

max’s hand shifts to rub at the length of your back, and you clear the sleepy haze from your mind enough to nod your head and hum softly in question, “m’kay.”

daniel gently pulls your head from his neck with his tattooed hand on your nape, making sure your pretty eyes, foggy with sleep, make eye contact, “how do ya’ feel about spending december in australia, hmm? a sunny christmas–on the ricciardo ranch; you, me, max and our families–ain’t that perfect, honey?”

max smiles softly at your pout–you’re never one to appreciate having your sleep interrupted–before adding on to daniel’s question, “jimmy and sassy can stay with the sitter; i already spoke to her a few days ago. she’d be thrilled to have them, so you don’t have to worry about where’d they stay. i don’t think i can get pet passports in three days nor do i want to see how two bengal cats act on a private jet for twenty hours.”

a few seconds pass, max and daniel searching your face for any hint to a possible answer. you blink a few times, before you murmur faintly, “‘m okay with it…can i go to sleep now?”

max laughs tenderly, guiding your head back into daniel’s neck before he scoots closer and rests his own head on the australian’s shoulder, “yeah, mijn schatje. sleep well.”

daniel wraps the arm pinned under max around him, pulling him closer to drop a kiss on his forehead. his other hand falls on your back over the dutchman’s, caressing it softly. he holds the two of you as tight as he possibly can, the big grin on his face only seen by the ceiling. he has his whole world in his arms right now, but come christmas time, his whole universe–his family–will be under the same roof back home in australia.

the next three days are filled with an absurd amount of packing. max and daniel have five suitcases between the two of them—you have five for yourself; it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. the night before your flight, they watch you pace around the bedroom making sure there’s nothing important you’re forgetting. jimmy and sassy had been dropped off at the sitter’s, and max and daniel had already moved all the luggage to the entryway for the early flight. the two drivers had stopped trying to convince you to join them in the bed and cuddled together, knowing it’s best to let you work out your anxieties now so you don’t overthink on the flight.

as you start combing through the closet again, max whispers to daniel, “we could fuck the nerves out her right now, danny.”

daniel smacks max’s hip, smirking when he whines quietly, “no, maxy. she has to sit for an almost twenty hour flight, we can’t make that any more difficult for her.” the dutchman huffs, unhappy with the answer even though he knows it's the logical course of action.

dan continues, “remember: as soon as we get to the ranch and settle in—we'll be alone for a week before my parents come ‘n join us. we’ll have plenty of time to take her apart and put her back together.”

daniel was wrong. after y’all landed in perth, and made the drive out to the countryside—it was apparent that the three of you weren’t the only ones at the ranch. his parents had come early to make sure the ranch was prepped and fully stocked for your vacation, and prepared a home cooked dinner to welcome you in. dan can’t help his big smile from becoming a permanent fixture on his face as he watches his mom and dad fawn over you and max. grace pulls you into the house, instructing the men to bring the luggage inside while she gets to fixing you a plate heaping with barbecue. joe affectionately calls max ‘son’ with a tight hug, congratulating him on his third championship before they all make their way into the house.

the original plan is put on the back burner as daniel watches you and max bloom under the loving attention from his parents. the days passed quickly, all of them spent horsing around the farm; horseback riding, dirt biking, atv riding, making a trip out to the beach, eating good food, and sleeping well. dan sees max’s pale skin pinkening and your melanated complexion glowing with warmth from the caress of the australian sun. your afternoon naps are taken underneath the warm rays, stretching out in any slice of sun you can catch, bathing in it like a cat. max and dan do as many things as they can shirtless attempting to get their tan in as quick as possible—dan tans gracefully, max, on the other hand, burns like a lobster first before his tan becomes apparent.

they fucked you on the second day after your arrival, but not exactly how they were hoping too. it’s still a relatively short affair—for their standards, at least. while it quieted the need within you, it didn’t completely satisfy the urge for any of you. daniel had to coax you into biting a pillow to muffle your squeals, and have max nearly choke on his tattooed fingers to quiet his whining—dan himself clenched his jaw so tightly to prevent his own moans from escaping that he’s surprised he didn’t crack a tooth. he loves his parents, but he’s genuinely going to snap if he doesn’t get to ruin you and max without worrying if they could hear how he makes you and max beg for him.

on the fifth day, you wear your first sundress to lunch and max pulls daniel in the kitchen to muffle a scream into his chest.

“dan, baby—i love your parents,” max starts, his eye twitching, “you know i do! but, i can’t go another day without hearing her scream for me—for us.”

they’re only men. very desperate men. and you had the nerve to parade yourself in this flowy, yellow, strapless sundress at a meal they have to suffer through. they can’t even tear it off of you after, because dan’s parents have a chance of overhearing. but, what forces the australian to kindly kick his parents out of the house, is how you fail to stop yourself from drooling over them playing around in the pool—struggling to continue speaking with his mom as you sit on the pool’s ledge.

before dinner, dan showers by himself first, changing into fresh clothes. he then ushers you and max into the shower, ‘to rinse off the chlorine and sweat from the day,’ he says. but, he could care less about that. as soon as he hears the shower start, he practically sprints to the kitchen to see his mom and dad put the finishing touches on the burgers they fixed up.

daniel skids to a stop in the doorway, leaning against it in faux-relaxedness, and says, “howdy.” it’s silent for a minute; his dad stares at him blankly, and his mom eventually breaks and speaks plainly, “what is it, danny?”

daniel gasps in mock-disbelief, “why d’ya always think i want something from you? i can’t just be greeting my wonderful, loving, and understanding parents?”

grace stares at him, not fooled, “are you just saying ‘hi’?”

daniel stutters aimlessly looking to his dad for help, but joe just shrugs at him in a ‘you did this to yourself, son’ manner.

“maybe! well, no, actually…” daniel sulks, slinking into the kitchen, and resting against the counter next to his mom.

his mom hums knowingly, and gestures at him to start speaking.

“uh, so, you know i love having y’all around, right, and uh, it’s nice y’know—i mean, i don’t see ya’ as often as i want to, but uh—don’t get me wrong, you’re my parents, but uhm—“

joe sighs, “daniel, cut to the chase, please.”

daniel groans, before he leans his head back to look at the ceiling, “fine. look—we just expected to at least have one week to ourselves when we got here. not that y’all being here to surprise us is bad! you know that. but, uhm…we just made plans, i guess. a-and we kind of can’t do it, because, well…”

grace washes her hands as daniel continues to ramble through an unnecessary apologetic explanation. she turns the water off, drying her hands on a towel, and turns to her husband, pointing at daniel while rolling her eyes teasingly, before she cuts her son off, “daniel, we can leave tonight.”

daniel stops, head dropping to look at his mom in shock, “what?”

“we can leave tonight, if that’s what you’re trying to ask. your father and i don’t mind,” grace smiles gently, “we weren’t supposed to stay for this long anyways, we were just trying to get the ranch prepared for y’all, and you know how enamored we are with your girl and boy; we overstayed our welcome. we can go and come back a week before christmas with the rest of the family, danny.”

daniel perks up, “you guys don’t have to leave for that long, i don’t wanna kick you out—“

“daniel, please,” joe scoffs, walking over to clap daniel on the back, “you’re not kicking us out. we’ll be back on the seventeenth, alright. hopefully, that gives y’all enough time to work out your frustrations. we really don’t want to overhear or see anything—“

daniel pales, “okAY, thank you, yes—please don’t comeback until as late as y’all want, jesus christ. wait—did you hear the other night?! ohmygod…they’re going to kill me.”

joe and grace laugh, “no, we didn’t hear anything, danny. we just figured from how they were following you around in the morning—max couldn’t even look us in the eye, son.”

daniel groans, embarrassed, “don’t tell them anything about this okay? they’ll break up with me if they know i asked you to leave so i could have sex with them.”

his parents' laughter only gets louder, but they agree eventually after they indulge in teasing their son a little more.

dinner is pleasant; you and max remain unaware of the ricciardo’s intervention, enjoying the well-cooked meal and lighthearted conversation. when everyone’s stomach is full and the conversation quiets, grace and joe break the news that they unfortunately have to return to perth. you and max sadden, trying to convince daniel’s parents to stay a little longer—max’s eyes fail to hide his eagerness at their announcement, even though his voice manages to be completely sincere. daniel watches as his parents formulate a fake excuse about their departute before he gently reminds you two, “they’ll be back for christmas, babes. you’ll see them again.”

the two of you calm at daniel’s statement, and walk his parents out to the car, exchanging hugs and kisses before they drive off back to the city. daniel leads you two back into the house after you’ve watched his parents disappear down the road, and the shift in energy as soon as the door locks is missed by you.

you mindlessly amble back to the dining table, stacking the emptied plates and glasses and wandering into the kitchen to clean them. as soon as you turn the sink faucet on, a strong body pushes against your back, and presses you against the edge of the counter as their hand reaches around you to shut the water off. you turn around to tell-off whichever boyfriend did that, but before you can get any words out, you’re pulled into a filthy kiss.

your shocked gasp is muffled by max’s lips, and you half-heartedly attempt to pull away, but the dutchman chases your lips, not allowing you to stop. you give in with a sigh, allowing max to continue kissing you. he buries one hand in your hair, tilting your head to the side for a better angle, and licks at the seam of your lips. you squirm against him, not quite giving into the coaxing of his tongue, and max hums softly before he tugs at your bottom lip. you turn your head to the side, panting softly to suck in a few desperate breaths before max pulls you back and invades the opening of your lips. you squeal at the feeling of his tongue laving against yours, the lewd wet sounds of your mouths have your thighs pressing together. max brings his other arm to grasp around your waist, and pulls you against him, groaning into your mouth at the smallest amount of friction that movement provided. you feel lightheaded, your knees weakening, but max firmly holds you up, not letting you slip from his grasp. your hands come up to wrap around him, one feeling up his chest before resting around his neck, and the other hand digging into the meat of his back in search of stability. he hums at the ache of your nails and drops both of his hands to cup the back of your thighs right under your ass. he lifts you onto the counter, spreading your legs and shoving his body between them, while still managing to not break the kiss. at the show of strength you arch your back, whining highly, pushing your chest against his—he’s so strong. he eagerly starts tugging the sundress up your legs, making to expose your panties before he’s interrupted by a sudden heavy hand on the back of his neck.

max jerks away from you (you can finally catch your breath), his chest heaving, and his own whine fills the air at the weight of daniel’s hand.

“now, darlin’,” daniel addresses max with a smirk, “this wasn’t part of our plan, was it? you forget the script, maxy?”

max blushes a pretty pink, and murmurs, “no, daniel—sorry, danny.” dan hums at the apology, pressing a kiss to max’s warm cheek.

“w-what plan?” you timidly ask, still sitting on the counter, legs spread obscenely, dress skewed messily, and lips swelling from max’s ambition.

daniel chuckles, eyes shining at you hungrily, “mmm. how ‘bout we make our way to the bedroom and ‘ll show ya, sweetheart?”

you’re spread eagle in the middle of the bed, completely naked, with daniel fully dressed in between your legs sucking marks and pressing kisses on your thighs, max stripped down to his boxer-briefs on his side next to you, doing the same to your neck and chest. you’re squirming viciously just from the feeling of his beard scraping against your inner thighs, squeals ripping from your throat when he leaves a hickey or bites at the meat of your thigh. the australian’s pupils are blown wide, as he watches you try and muffle your cries behind your hand—if this is how you’re responding to the two of them thoroughly refreshing their claim on you, he’s thrilled to see how you’ll lose your mind as the night goes on. pulling his head away, daniel presses his thumb into one of the bruises he left and your back arches deeply–you choke on your squeal, thighs slamming shut around his hand.

“none of that now, sweetheart,” dan instructs firmly, “‘s just me, you, and max, honey. no need to quiet those sweet sounds of yours, alright?”

you nod wildly, stumbling over your agreement, “y-yeah, danny. ‘ll be- i’ll be loud for you guys.”

max moans at your words from where his lips were tugging at your nipple, pulling away to raise himself back to your lips, thirstily tasting your desperation from its source. dan allows max to bruise up your mouth, and leave his own beard burn around your lips, as he undresses himself down to his briefs.

“max…max, maxy, babe,” daniel softly calls a few times, failing to get the impatient man’s attention, “max, look at me.” the switch from dan’s soft tone to a deeper, base filled sound has max snapping away to look at daniel, panting roughly.

“be good f’me and give yourself a hand, darlin’,” dan commands, and max sighs lovingly at the endearment, “you can manage that right, maxy? while i get our sweet girl ready to take you, hm?”

max whimpers, “yes, danny,” and shifts to sit upright, pulling his underwear off and wrapping his large hand around himself. dan purrs, “good boy. her sweet cunt’s already drippin’ for us, maxy. won't take me long to stretch ‘er open for you.” you keen, humiliated at the way dan speaks about you like you’re not in the room with them. daniel tugs your legs open again, hiding his laughter in the plush meat of your thigh, but you can feel the smirk against your skin.

embarrassed, you whine hushedly, hands fisting into the sheets by your side, “mean.”

daniel hums uncaringly at your remark, “mean? don’t worry, honey–when i finish with you, you’ll think ‘m mean for a very different reason.” he doesn’t give you a chance to ponder his words, and a firm drag of his tongue across your cunt destroys any chance for your thought processes. this time around, your moans are clear, echoing around the room. the press of daniel’s tongue is unforgiving and working intently at your clit. your thighs clamp around his head, not allowing the australian to escape even though he can feel your hips bucking away, trying to escape the consistent stimulation on one of your most sensitive spots. when one of your hands flies down to tug at his curls, he relents his assault and switches to prodding his tongue against your opening. he moans depravedly against your entrance, the noise vibrating through you, causing your shriek to pierce the air. he eats you out like a man starved; savagely shoving his tongue deeper inside you, curling against your walls, nose bumping against your clit, mouth moving like he’s truly trying to eat you alive. he ignores the ache of his jaw, the tightness of his briefs, how his beard scratches your skin; and he smoothly slips a finger into you, beginning thoroughly stretch you out.

it’s absolutely obscene-sounding. daniel works his way up to three fingers, and any previous qualms he had about you being too quiet are resolved. your whines are constant at the insistent invasion of daniel’s curling digits, and based on the way your legs are trembling, he can tell you're nearing the precipice. what’s even more erotic, is the way your cries harmonize with max’s own grunts of pleasure; the dutchman’s hips buck into the frantic pace of his hands and danny wouldn’t be surprised if max comes before he even gets inside you. daniel sits back on his heels, his fingers still digging deeper inside you, forcefully pressing against your g-spot. with his left hand, daniel knocks max’s hand away, ignoring the responding yowl of displeasure, and fists max’s cock on his own, “doin’ a little too much, maxy. our desperate girl deserves to come first, anyways—lemme set the pace for you, darlin’.” max suffers under danny’s ministrations; the extreme shift down in tempo, the constant attention on the head of his cock, a finger pressing at his slit or the vein along his underside alternatingly. you, on the other hand, are being pushed closer and closer to your orgasm. daniel’s thumb joins, rubbing quick circles of your clit–and you scream out, pleasure overriding you. when your moans start to blend into breathy little ah-ah-ah’s, he slips his fingers free from the tight clasp of your cunt, and releases his hold on max’s cock.

you sob achingly, begging daniel to make you cum, dismayed cries of, “no! danny, why’d you stop, please, make me cum,” falling from your lips as max mewls next to you, his own hands trying to force danny’s back around him. daniel shushes you, and motions for max to come closer. max flies forward happily, his whines cutting off at daniel’s attention. he man-handles max into hovering over you in missionary, his cock resting against your fluttering cunt, waiting for permission. your cries quiet, and your heart races with anticipation for max to bury himself in you. danny’s left hand grips at max’s corresponding hip, and his right hand slips in the narrow space between you two, and he presses the flushed arousal in you. and the australian cannot stop running his mouth.

“that’s ‘t, baby–nice n’ easy for ya’–mmm–he’s splitting you open isn’t he–yeah, soak ‘im, babe, get him nice and wet–no, sweetheart, don’t run from it–yeahhh just like that, you take ‘t so well–”

your own orgasm suprises you, otherwise you would’ve at least made an attempt to tell the two men. max hasn’t even gotten halfway inside you and you’re cumming; back-arching, toes-curling, hands rushing forward to scratch down max’s back, eyes screwed shut, and walls clamping tightly around him. max is whining above you, flinching away from the hot grasp of your inner walls, but daniel won’t let him pull out.

“danny, danny! please–oh–i-i-i’m gonna–not gonna last–‘m gonna cum, if i stay inside her,” max admits, sobbing embarrasingly.

daniel laughs softly from behind max, and shifts so his front is pressed to the dutchman’s back. max shivers at the sound, the hair on the back of his neck rising. “aww, you can’t handle it, darling? don’t worry, i’ve changed my plans for you, anyways,” daniel smugly whispers into max’s ear. dan brings both of his hands to the younger’s waist, and forces him deeper inside of you, ignoring the way max cries sensitively and keeps pushing him forward until he bottoms out. you and max let out twin squeals from the white-hot flash of pleasure; you struggle to adjust to his size as quickly as daniel forced him in–you pulsate around him, it’s like you’re still trying to drag him further in and push him out at the same time. daniel presses a kiss to max’s shoulder blade and praises him, “see, maxy? i knew you could do it—such a good boy f’me.”

max’s eyes roll back, and he can’t fight it–he cums, loudly. his limbs weaken and his body collapses over yours, head falling into your neck, and his lewd moans vibrate through your raw skin. the younger’s body covers you completely, and your knees come up to cradle max’s hips, encouraging him to thrust through the aftershocks. daniel leans back, continuing to bathe the two of you with praise as he lets you guys shudder through the come down. a couple minutes pass before your legs relax and max’s moans die down to breathy hums, as both of your chests heave as you try to regulate your breathing.

“feelin’ good, my loves?” daniel questions tenderly.

you’re the first to respond, a sated smile sent the australians way, “so good, danny.” max sighs out a breathy “yeah,” muffled into your chest. daniel brightens, “alrighty–maxy, fuck her properly now, and make her cum again.” the dutchman grunts in disbelief, “what? no, i-i can’t, i just came–”

dan cuts max off, “you can’t or, you won’t?” max’s breath stutters at the sudden dominance in daniel’s tone, sitting up to turn his head to look at the older man incredulously. the smile on dan’s face is gone, his expression suddenly firm and unyielding–max can only drop his gaze away from daniel’s eyes, avoiding the piercing gaze.

“max, look at me,” the australian states unflinchingly, and the younger man’s eyes fly to meet his at the command.

“what’s your color, darlin’?”

with his tongue flicking out to wet his lips nervously, max mutely whispers, “green.” daniel’s piercing gaze drops to you and he repeats the question, “sweetheart, what’s your color?”

you squirm under his intense attention—max’s hips stuttering at the stimulation, and your bruised brown thighs squeeze at his waist until he stops—but the slight flare of pleasure that races up your spine decides your answer, “green, danny.”

a smirk spreads across daniel’s lips, “see, you can, maxy,” the younger blushes deeply at his teasing croon, “now, be a sweet prince for me, and fuck our sweetheart, hm?” and with a pinch to max’s hip, he sinks in you deeply with an oversensitive sigh, before he pulls out and sets a slow rhythm to allow you both a little more time to recover. the drag of his cock is coaxing soft shuddery breaths out of your lips, and sharp over-sensitive whines from max. his hands are trembling from where they’re grip flexes on your waist, veins popping with the strength of his grasp, sure to leave a mark on your darker skin. dan’s hands halt the gentle roll of his hips, before the man leads him at a quicker pace. max throws his head back onto daniel’s shoulder, overwhelmed at the feeling of your tight, soaking wet cunt, and cries out “too much—ngh—i-it’s too much!” but aside from all of his whines, he’s getting hard again. unlike max, the sensitivity from your orgasm had faded quickly—if anything, it’s doubling the amount of pleasure you’re feeling. desperate for more, you plant your feet on the bed and start rolling your hips to meet max halfway; moaning yearningly at the change in position.

the younger man frantically tries to force your hips back down, the friction added from you meeting his thrusts is too great. “heyheyhey—none of that, prince,” daniel quickly tugs max’s hands away from your waist, one hand firmly holding them against the younger’s chest, “remember, we made a promise to give her so many orgasms to make up for how mean we’ve been to her. you don’t want to break that promise; right, darling?” max tries to hide his face in dan’s shoulder, but it’s too late—he starts sobbing. daniel watches how the tears rain down max’s cheeks, and how his face crumples so prettily—is it weird that making his usually unbothered boyfriend cry, turns him on?

max sniffles, “n-no, danny. -ll do it, i-i wanna make her cum.” not wanting to disappoint you any further, he starts quickening his strokes on his own, eventually outpacing the rhythm daniel set for him. it dawns on max quickly; he’s not going to last, again. he makes the mistake of looking at the blissed out expression on your face, the knot in his tummy tightening as he watches how your mouth falls open in a moan, wet and inviting. he drops his eyes away, but they fall on where the two of you are connected; the sight causes him to choke on his breath. his own thrusts have forced his cum out of you, frothing at your entrance, smeared all over your labia and staining your inner thighs. if he could eat you out and fuck you at the same time—he’d be doing it. max urgently asks daniel, “d-danny, ‘m gonna cum—please, can i cum?” ignoring max, dan’s hand lets go of max’s, and falls to let his middle and ring finger rub vigorously at your clit. your body jackknifes, a scream leaving your lips at the sudden addition, you choke out a warning, “g’na cum! pleasepleaseplease—” and when daniel’s thumb sneaks down to press gently at where you're wrapped snugly around max, almost like he’s trying to slip in alongside his cock—white flashes behind your eyes and you’re cumming hard.

daniel hums, satisfied, “now, you can cum, maxy.” the younger had already started coming the second he started speaking. it’s erotic—how the two of yours’ orgasm feeds off of each other. every clench of your cunt has you squeezing tightly around max, causing him to thrust in you deeper, which in turn has you pulsating around him tightly, and the cycle continues. max rides out the two of your orgasms viciously this time around, his hips slamming into you, forcing himself as deep as possible wanting to empty every last dreg of his cum within you. you can only whimper brokenly, not making an effort to calm his grinds, wanting to savor anything you can get before he pulls out of you. with max’s last pump of his hips in you, daniel slowly guides him out of you. the two of you hiss, extremely over sensitive from the two times you’ve cum, so daniel tries to make the affair as smooth as he possibly can. with a squelching pop, max is freed from the tight grasp of your cunt, and dan leads him to lie down next to you on the bed.

you’re still floating, not a single thought in your head, a deep sense of satisfaction coating your mind, but you can vaguely hear daniel checking on max, making sure he didn’t push him too far. you hum quietly under your breath, almost like a purr, eyes shut blissfully as you allow yourself to relax in your afterglow. you faintly register daniel slipping in between your legs, his broad shoulders pressed against the underside of your thighs. you feel his left hand gently press at the raw skin of your thigh, and you fuzzily manage to move it over for him, thinking that he’s trying to clean you up.

daniel can only stare. the pink skin of your hole has turned to a deeper red, with how max bullied your cunt. his mouth falls open, entranced, at the sight of your bruised pussy winking at him, struggling to close, and he moans softly as the pulsing of your cunt starts pushing max’s cum out of you. the creamy, frothy, white fluid slowly sliding out of you and down your ass. his tongue wets his lips—he wants a taste. dan drops the towel he was holding in his right hand, and brings the now empty hand up to spread your lips with a ‘v’ of his fingers. his eyes flick up to your face, and once he sees that you're still floating, he takes a gentle pass over your entrance with two fingers, collecting yours and max’s combined release. he sucks the mess clean, and a groan rumbles through his chest. fuck—he needs more. daniel quickly finds himself breathing softly over your cunt for the second time tonight, and he can feel how your thighs already start shaking at the exhales of his breath against you. he laps his tongue once in a broad stripe over you, and moans depravedly—and then, he pretty much forced to eat you out; why let this go to waste.

the minute his tongue slips inside you, your thighs slam shut around his head, trying to halt his overeager movements. daniel doesn’t care, he’d happily suffocate in your cunt if it meant he got to eat max’s cum out of you for the last time. when he slips two of his fingers in to coax more of the cum max fucked deep in you out, your hand flies down and tugs at his curls. daniel pulls his mouth away, growling sharply at the pain from the grip of your hand, but he steadfastly dives back in—he’s going to swallow every last drop you’ll give him. “hngh—too much, –anny, can’t take it—my tummy feels weird—it hurts!” daniel’s hips starting grinding against the bed, and he’s made aware of how painfully hard he’s gotten throughout the night; he hasn’t cum once. daniel moans against your cunt, panting against you, “ya got one more f’me right, sweetheart? yeah, ya do—just let me taste you, yeah?” daniel tunes out your cries again, and brushes his nose against your clit as he laves his tongue over you picking up every drop of cum the two of you have spilled on your swollen cunt. his fingers start to curl upwards as he pulls them out, dragging wetness out from the depths of your walls, and you squeal, any pleads that you planned to say have been suddenly erased from your throat at the sudden pain-pleasure that bursts behind your eyes. your core tightens, and you seize against the bed cumming for the third time this night at daniel’s insistence. this is the most intense orgasm all night, and it feels never ending; all of your senses feel like they’re burning hot, nerves tingling from your scalp to your curled toes. what you’ve failed to recognize is that you're gushing all over daniel’s face. he practically gets waterboarded from where he was pressed against your cunt, but once he realizes that he’s made you squirt, he happily starts drinking down each spray of your fluid, uncaring of how his beard is drenched with your release, and how it puddles underneath your ass.

he swallows you down to the very last drop, plump lips massaging your labia sweetly. he backs off your pussy, switching to your thighs to collect any wetness he missed out on. when your hand tugs at his curls again, pulling him away when the beard burn gets too much, daniel rises to his knees over you. he tugs his cock out of his briefs, the tip flushed the deepest red he’s ever seen it, and it throbs hotly in his grasp. he uses the hand soaked with your squirt to roughly rub himself off, tattooed thigh spasming, and it takes less than ten pumps of his hand before he’s cumming. with every spray of his hot cum that lands against your swollen cunt, your hips jerk—even that feels too much.

when daniel finishes, he moans at the picture he painted on you—would you let him take a picture if he asked? but his fantasy is disrupted when you squirm up the bed, your hand falling to cup protectively over your cunt, thighs tightening around your hand, and you murmur repeatedly, “no more, no more.” max coos quietly from where he’s laying, still just as fucked out as you, but he tries to soothe your cries. he sweetly pulls you into his chest when tears slip out of your eyes, petting at you clumsily, not quite yet having regained complete control of his limbs. “did so good, schatje. daniel did just like he promised—i-if, if you let him clean you up, we can cuddle and go straight to bed, ok? be good, j-just a little longer.”

you sob messily into max’s embrace, but after a few minutes with max and daniel both reassuring you that they’ve finished pulling orgasms out of you, and comfortingly massaging the already setting soreness of your muscles—your cries die down to sniffles, and you slowly spread your legs open for danny. daniel stares at the mess he created this time around, but dismisses the urge to lick it off you; his only goal right now is to properly clean you up, and make sure you go to sleep feeling satisfied and worn-out. as gently as possible, he takes turns wiping both your thighs and cunt, and max’s thighs and cock, switching when either of you says it’s too much. it takes longer than it usually does, but it doesn’t upset daniel as long as it means the two of you are comfortable.

“okay, okay,” daniel soothes sweetly, “i’m done. you both did so good for me tonight.”

max blushes at the praise, and with a voice as airy as silk, you whisper, “you ‘ere good too, danny—made me feel r’lly good, thank you.” daniel smiles, his heart warming at your sweet words, “thank you, honey. you’re always so sweet to me.”

“now, let’s move this party to the bathroom so both of you can pee, and take a bath before we sleep, i’ll get some snacks for you to eat too,” daniel orders softly, “i took a lot from the two of you tonight—so let me make sure i put you back together, okay?

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