#(for the first time in her life) step back and say 'he deserves it but you shouldn't do it'

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

“Come on, doll,” Barnes takes your hand and leads you across the room. You follow as you will for the rest of your life; obediently. 

His grip is like a vice as he guides you through the hall and down the stairs. Silence meets you at the bottom as your sisters no doubt hear the descent. Yet he doesn’t let you go nor make a move to leave. Instead, he brings you into the front room. 

He squeezes your hand, pressing the large ring into your finger, and releases you. He steps forward as Kitty turns away from the window and Adrienne stands from the sofa. He commands any room he enters and you don’t think you’ll ever be used to that. 

“Sisters,” he declares brightly, “that is what I will call you from now on.” 

He goes first to Kitty and places a kiss on her cheek, then does the same to Adrienne. Each watch him in confusion. You stare blankly. 

“And you can call me brother and ask for anything and everything you need,” he says. 

“Sir,” Kitty moves towards your younger sister. 

“I ask discretion for the time being as I tie up a few loose ends,” Barnes explains. “And we get you all settled where you need to be.” 

Your sisters blink at you then each other. You can’t say it out loud. That makes it real. 

Barnes turns on his heel, “speaking of loose ends, I should go.” 

He comes towards you and takes your hand again. He raises it, certain to show off the glaring diamond, and kisses it. The gesture makes your blood run cold. It is a statement. It isn’t the same as when you kiss his ring, it isn’t deference, no it is a show of ownership. 

“Have a good night,” you say at last. 

He pulls back and lowers your hand. He grins, “it’s already spectacular, doll.” 

He lets you go and steps past you. You stand, stuck in place, as he leaves. The door opens and closes, the hinges jarring you into motion. You go to lock it behind him and Kitty calls your name. 

“What’s going on?” She appears in the doorway. 

You take a breath before you face her. You shrug. Adrienne scrambles around her and snatches your hand. 

“Oh my god, it’s huge.” 

“Stop,” you try to tug your hand back. 

“You’re marrying him?” Kitty’s voice deflates by the last syllable. “Why?” 

You look between them. You can tell one sliver of the truth. “To keep us safe.” 

“Us? We’ll be fine. Barnes says we get an inheritance, we get houses, money--” 

“And then what? It’s not enough to last forever,” you argue. “Even if we can find work, we’ll never make enough to keep that. How long did you work at the yogurt shop before daddy threatened to burn it down? And I have about a week’s experience down at the diner.” 

“We can start now--” 

“We can start now and never reach the finish line,” you insist. “Kitty, you know who daddy was. You sat there and watched what they did to that man today. This isn’t a life you walk away from, even if he’s dead.” 

Adrienne sniffles. She’s on the edge of tears again. 

“So, you do it over? Marry another one? Go through it again?” Kitty challenges. 

“He can make sure that neither of you have to--” 

“We don’t need you to be our martyr,” Kitty argues. 

“I’m not--” you seal your lips and sigh. You wish you could tell her. You wish you could say I shot that fuck and he deserved it because you know she would have loved to do the same thing. Yet, saying it out loud means admitting that you’re all trapped for that moment of vengeance. “Kitty, how much choice do you think he gave me?” 

She stares at you. She knows exactly how it works. There is no asking with these men. 

“We could all go. Disappear.” 

“And they wouldn’t find us? How far could we get, really?” 

“Not far,” Adrienne pipes in. “Kitty, would you rather daddy still be here?” 

Your older sister is silent as her jaw squares. 

“I could marry instead. Maybe not Barnes but someone else. It shouldn’t be you. I’m the oldest--” 

“It is me,” you say, “and it could be any one of us but this is how it is. It’s... not the worst.” 

“It’s not?” Kitty says. “That man stood and ordered another beaten to death. He didn’t flinch.” 

“I know,” you say. 

“No, you don’t know,” Kitty insists, “you can’t be sure that he isn’t like daddy.” 

She’s right. Barnes might have helped vanquish the monster but it can’t erase his own misdeeds. Yet, you asked for all of this. You went there in the middle of the night and sold your soul. You could excuse yourself with naivete, but you deserve more to be branded by it. 

“If it keeps you two from men like daddy--” 

“Stop,” Kitty grabs you by the shoulders. “None of us deserve it.” 

“You stop,” you wrap your fingers calmly around her forearms and peel her hold off of you. “Should I go hand that man his ring back or do you want do it for me?” 

She untangles her wrists from your grasp and recoils. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes up against the threat of tears. She stamps her foot in frustration. 

“You tell me,” she points her finger at you. You’re almost stunned by the fire in her voice and face. Kitty is the sweet one, she’s gentle, but she has your mother’s quiet strength. “You tell me if he ever puts a bruise on you. You fucking tell me.” 

“Kitty,” you murmur. 

Adrienne covers her mouth and watches, swept up in the fraught emotion of it all. 

“No, because I spent a lifetime watching you two cry over that beast we called a father,” she snarls. “I will not waste the rest of my life doing the same. I thought—I thought we were free. I wanted us to be free.” She curls her lip and exhales heavily. “So, you will not lie to me again. And I will know. I will see right through him so you don’t even try to cover it up. One bruise...” she wags her finger then throw up both her hands with a frustrated growl. “I sound like him.” She turns and drags her feet to the stairs. She sits on one and hangs her head. “I sound like daddy. I’m just so... tired.” 

You look at Adrienne and reach for her. She gives you her hand. You bring her over to Kitty and touch your elder sister’s shoulder. She looks up through sparkling eyes. 

“You will know. We will all know. We are sisters and this doesn’t change that,” you say. “We stick together, no matter what.” 

“Oh, we will,” Kitty insists, “I will be at your damn house every day and I will look at that man and I will see all the cracks. Trust me you. He will not take you from us.” 

“Kitty, Ade,” you look from one to the other, “no one can take us from each other. If daddy did one thing, it was making sure of that.” 

[intrepidacious]

❤️ a good time!

tat!bucky’s favorite (or least favorite) thing about twelve

… why not both?

cause and effect

chapter summary: How Bucky fell in love with Twelve: Slowly, and then all at once.

pairing: bucky barnes x time witch!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: light angst and negative self talk (this is bucky y'all); some light pining 🤭please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i've literally had this one in my drafts for about two years and i hadn't actually planned on posting it for a while yet but i did promise distractions. and i missed him. i always do.

this is part of the time after time universe but can be read as a teaser and/or a standalone 💚

Bucky’s relationship with time has been fractured ever since a cold day in January that stole away the life he was headed towards and turned him into the monster underneath a child’s bed.

It’s hard to feel good about the concept of time travel once a lot of your own time has been taken away from you. Even now, there’s only so many things in his life he has control over; like the fact that he’s actively choosing to go back to therapy now, or that he’s able to keep a pet for the first time since he was thirteen years old. Stupid little things, like what kind of food he wants for lunch or whether he should take the stairs or the elevator.

Every single one of these things he’s fought for tooth and nail, clawing his way out of the past and carving out his own space in reality again, struggling, trying, hanging on like he wasn’t able to all those decades ago.

He’s probably still failing.

Some days, clinging to the present is tense and brings him nothing but grief. Sometimes, it feels like he’s going to have to mourn the past forever, whatever might have been; and maybe that’s his sentence.

He wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. He deserves worse.

And then there’s you.

Flickering in and out of time, constantly moving, changing in the time it takes him to blink.

It’s infuriating to him, the way you get to use your powers. The way you don’t need to think about consequences, because they don’t have to be permanent, don’t have to be something you need to live with for the rest of your life. To you, time has always been something that can be changed with a single snap of your fingers. Whatever you do can just as easily be undone.

Once you decide you’ve seen enough, you can just take the scene from the top.

And you’re so stubborn.

You’ve already seen how this goes on if you let it, and so you’re always right, end of story. There’s an ease to your steps because of it, a nonchalance in every movement, and it makes Bucky’s blood boil to see it so plainly.

With all the good that you could do, you choose to do nothing instead; to stay out of the picture entirely and burn through your powers just because you can, wasting them all on things that don’t mean anything.

How many lives could you potentially save?

Instead, you consume disturbing amounts of caffeine and then continue to provide running commentary to the world around you based on things that, to him, never happen at all. "Do this", "don’t do that", "take the other one", or, his absolute favorite, "don’t make me fix that".

Why not? he wants to ask, say, demand. Why not fix all of it?

It takes a while for him to realize that all of your fire means you’re burning from both ends. In fact, it takes Becca.

"You should bring her by sometime," she tells him on a rainy afternoon. "While I’m still alive and kicking."

His little sister just turned ninety-eight. Her kitchen sideboard is filled with black-and-white pictures reminding him of all the things in her life that he missed, arranged in perfect little wooden frames.

"And why would I do that?" Bucky asks, scowling at his cards.

"Because you keep mentioning her," Rebecca says dryly and whisks the cards onto her pile with quick fingers.

"You gotta be kidding me," he groans, noting down her points. "And I don’t."

"Do, too. I don’t remember you being this terrible at this game."

"Because I haven’t caught you when you’re cheating."

"Exactly. It’s embarrassing." She wins the next trick, too. "How’s Tuesday?"

"Am I clairvoyant now?"

"I was thinking lunch."

"No." Finally, he gets a couple of points down. When he glances up at his sister again, she’s looking at him expectantly and he sighs. "What?"

"You can’t fault me for being curious," she says. She has just as many opinions as she did when she was sixteen. Her eyes are still the same, too, the same shade of blue as his and the same glimmer of archness as their mother.

"Don’t you think it’s weird?" Bucky says, finally giving in. "The whole … time thing?"

"I think it’s very weird, but so’s you returning from the dead and kvetching about it." Her eyes narrow when he starts to protest. His mouth closes again. "Besides," she continues, shuffling her hand around, "it doesn’t sound all that fun."

"To have the power to never make mistakes?"

"To have to live through every mistake twice without anyone knowing."

Something about her words strikes him like a match, and so he tilts his head and squints at her and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s got it wrong.

That you carry not only your past, but all the futures you’ve seen that never came to be; all the what ifs having turned into answers.

And he thinks, how nice. And then he thinks, how horrifying.

It’s a thought that follows him over the next couple of weeks, and it starts reframing your interactions for him, in a way.

"Will you stop staring at me," you say without looking up from your book.

Honestly, he can’t. He’s still trying to pick up on it, the split second between before and after, that little change of your posture, your hair, your face, that tells him more time has passed for you than it has for him.

It’s more of a feeling than anything else, something right at the back of his mind telling him that something is different if he concentrates on it enough, but he’s never sure what it is. And he doesn’t like that; not one bit.

So Bucky crosses his arms and leans back. "Why?"

A flash of irritation makes your nose twitch, even though you still refuse to meet his eye.

"It’s rude, for one."

"Noted." He waits for the two that never comes. "Anything else?"

And there it is. A blink-and-you-miss-it kind of moment, like the air shifting around you ever so slightly, a certain knowing glint in your eyes when you roll them and get up.

"Annoying!"

He can’t help it. He wonders what your original answer was.

***

Bucky’s relationship with time changes slowly, the deepest cuts carefully mending themselves until looking back doesn’t feel like getting his bones ripped apart anymore, until he looks at you on a cold day in January and realizes he’s fucked.

At first, he hopes that it might be a fluke. A trick of the light, maybe, or seasonal allergies. That’s the reason why his eyes are drawn to your face as soon as he enters a room; the closest source of discomfort always the thing he seeks out first. That’s the reason why his chest constricts like that.

But the truth is, he knows this feeling has been building slowly; he’s just been unwilling to admit it.

Something soft and delicate has started to nestle in that gaping hole inside his chest, unbothered by the walls he’s so carefully built up.

He’d never planned on you.

Fuck, if he’d known in the beginning, he might’ve …

No, he thinks. He wouldn’t have changed anything.

Because you’re too good for him, anyway, and he knows it. Smart and strong and funny and gorgeous and capable of things he’s not sure he’ll ever fully comprehend; and it’s worse than that, because he knows you now.

You’re grouchy in the mornings and you make terrible jokes when you’re nervous and you have a strange feud with his cat and your smile makes him want to put his fist through the wall because what is he supposed to do with any of this?

He’s not made for this dance anymore. That part was taken from him so long ago, and he’s delusional to think that anything or anyone could return it to him after all the bridges he’d been made to cross and burn. Why would someone like him deserve to be given tenderness anymore in this life? Why would anyone want to try?

But that foolish thing blooming inside him feels a lot like hope, despite of what he keeps telling himself.

There’s just something about you that keeps pulling him in, and honestly, he’s tired of fighting it. Then again, the thought of you feeling the same is nothing short of ridiculous.

He’s not the same guy as he used to be. Hell, sometimes he’ll look at old photographs and barely recognize himself.

He remembers life before, and maybe that’s what makes this so hard. He remembers talking to pretty girls, their bright smiles, their soft skin underneath his hands. Good times were easy to come by, even though life was hard in a different way, then. But he was good at it; acting on his feelings alone used to be simple, fun, second-nature almost.

It’s different now.

It used to be different only once before, and look where that’s gotten him.

No, he can’t say anything. Not ever; or not yet, at any rate.

Sometimes, though, Bucky lies awake at night and listens to the rain knocking against his window, and he remembers how much easier falling asleep used to be when he had someone next to him and his mattress didn’t swallow him alive.

He’ll remember the dark circles under your eyes and wish it could be as easy as asking, too. He wonders if there’s a universe you remember where he tries, but he doubts it.

These days, he knows his mind again. And it’s not a burden he wants to share.

You have enough to carry on your own.

Maybe, he thinks as he stares up at the ceiling at three in the morning, maybe there’s still a certain comfort in your powers, in knowing all the possibilities, but it also means constantly losing something that’s real; always mourning the life that isn’t.

He can relate to that.

And maybe that means you can relate to him, too, at least a little bit.

It’s odd, how comforting that last little thought is to him.

When he does eventually fall asleep, you make your way into his dreams, too, sometimes. Those times are the worst.

You’re you, and he’s him, and there’s a sort of "us" in the both of you that doesn’t exist in real life. So when you let him lace his fingers with yours and press your lips to his forehead and it feels easy, that’s usually the point when he wakes up, heart tumbling over itself, right hand tracing the ghost of your touch, always too much, never enough.

He knows it’s not real.

He knows it’s just an indulgence; selfish, really.

The problem is that whatever small hope has decided to settle in his very core is impossible to kill, no matter how much he pushes it down; and he’s not sure he wants to lose it again.

Secretly, silently, serendipitously, you make him have faith in the future again.

But it’s not time for it yet.

if you want to read more about these two (plus a lot of time related shenanigans), read the main series here. or check out the rest of my bucky fics, that's also an option 💚 i don't do tag lists but you can follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications

[discordiansamba]

katara finds zuko tucked away in the corner of the villa, curled up in on himself. he's clutching his head, and visibly flinches when she draws closer. katara stops in her tracks, even backing up a few steps.

he's terrified of her- and she can't even blame him.

they should have known azula would have tried something like this. that she would lie to him. she just doesn't understand how she could do this. she tries to think about sokka becoming a different person, and it makes her shudder. she can't imagine asking for it herself. and then making him become her servant?

she doesn't think she'll ever understand azula.

"lee," katara keeps her voice quiet, "-i'm not going to hurt you."

zuko shakes his head. he doesn't look at her.

katara sighs, and sits down. zuko somehow manages to force himself more into the corner. it was beyond surreal to see him like this. it had been beyond surreal the entire time. she'd really rather he go back to yelling at her and calling her a water tribe peasant. she could deal with that.

"listen," katara says, "-I know this is scary, and I know what Azula told you, but none if it's true. the only thing I want to do is help you."

zuko looks up at her. he asks her why they've locked him up here if that's really true. why keep me prisoner if all you want to do is help me? katara bites her lip. he has a point, but... he's made it obvious that he'll run if he gets the chance. she can't blame him for that either. he doesn't know any better.

zuko is completely convinced he's lee. he's spent two years caught in a web of lies, enforced as much by innocent bystanders who have only ever known him as lee as it was by lan-wei. he'd built a life for himself in ba sing se as lee. he'd been... genuinely happy there, she thinks. and it's enough to almost, almost make her try and convince iroh to just let him live like this. to just be lee.

she doesn't think zuko was ever happy.

it's funny. she's spent so long resenting him for his betrayal at ba sing se. but these past few months, and getting to know him as lee... she thinks she's ended up with a better understanding of zuko than she's ever had before. she doesn't think he deserves to endure azula's constant mockery of him, but... a nice, peaceful life at the ba sing se tea shop.

but it wouldn't be right.

katara took the chance while he was unconscious to check out his brain. she'd spent weeks after the war, systematically freeing the brainwashed joo dees. it had been a struggle at first, but once she'd found the rhythm, she'd practically been able to do it in her sleep. she'd already known lee would be different, but...

...it had been worse than she'd thought. so much worse.

they were so, so lucky she'd found zuko when she did. a year or two from now? she didn't even know if water from the spirit oasis would be enough to save him. there wouldn't be a zuko anymore. he'd just... become lee. completely and utterly. he already was lee, completely and utterly... but they still had a chance.

the window of opportunity was very much closing.

"please, katara," zuko says, "-I just want to go home."

he doesn't even know this villa belongs to his family. iroh told her that they had many happy memories in this place- memories that zuko has forgotten entirely. no, not forgotten. just... locked away. inaccessible. she sighs.

"lee," she says, "-i know this isn't going to be easy to hear. but you need to the truth. all i'm asking is that you listen."

"what?" lee spits. "you're going to tell me I'm brainwashed again? I know who I am, katara."

"no," katara says, "-you don't."

[dancingintherainwithchifuyu]

Ichiji Vinsmoke x Fem Reader

Part 1

Chapter 2

About:In a kingdom where marriage is power, a princess finds herself at the center of a political scheme. When the ambitious Vinsmoke family arrives, intent on winning her hand to secure an alliance, each of the brothers vies for her favor. But it’s the stoic Ichiji who catches her attention—despite his cold demeanor and sense of duty.

Warnings:Arranged/Forced Marriage,Mild Violence, Conflict, Emotional Manipulation,Slow-Burn Romance,Toxic Family Dynamics,Class and Social Hierarchy

Tags: @fic-dumpster @omi-replies @firstdivisiongirl @kazenomegaminowanpisu @livid-basket

As (Y/N) steps back into the ornate ballroom, she takes a calming breath, determined to shake off the lingering nerves from earlier. The lights gleam off her elegant gown, making her look radiant, and it doesn’t take long for several noblemen to notice her arrival. Almost instantly, a small circle of suitors surrounds her, each one vying for her attention with polite, eager smiles and well-rehearsed compliments.

"Princess," begins one of the noblemen with a confident grin, bowing gracefully. "Your reputation precedes you. I’ve heard tales of your kindness and intelligence—qualities rare in such beauty. It would be my honor to make your acquaintance." His words are polished, yet his eyes hold a spark of ambition.

Another man, slightly younger but equally bold, quickly steps in. "Princess, did I mention I was recently appointed as captain of my father’s fleet? A mere task, of course, but one that I’ve accepted with great pride. Perhaps one day, you would grace us with your presence aboard one of my ships?" He says, flashing her a hopeful smile.

(Y/N) offers a polite nod, listening to each introduction with practiced grace. Her eyes flit between the suitors as they each take turns boasting of their achievements. One boasts of his family’s wealth, another of his talents in the arts, and yet another—bolder than the rest—leans close and promises a life of adventure beyond the palace walls.

Though she’s outwardly calm, (Y/N) can’t help but feel the pressure of their attentions building. Each man’s voice blurs with the next, the constant flattery and boasts becoming overwhelming. Her smile, however, remains as poised as ever, her laughter soft and practiced. Despite their charm, each compliment and attempt to win her over seems hollow, lacking the sincerity she yearns for.

One young lord, bold and beaming, steps up first and offers his hand with a practiced flourish. "Princess, might I have the honor of the next dance?" His voice is confident, and he looks at her as though already convinced of her acceptance.

Before (Y/N) can respond, another nobleman quickly interjects. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but I believe I asked first," he insists, stepping in front of the other man and bowing with a polite yet determined smile. "A lady of your grace deserves only the finest company."

Undeterred, a third suitor—a taller, older man with a charismatic smile—leans in and speaks, his voice smooth. "Surely, Princess, you would enjoy a dance with a man who can offer you both comfort and adventure." His hand lightly brushes her arm, causing her to step back, a bit taken aback by his forwardness.

(Y/N) offers a soft smile, keeping her composure, though her eyes dart around, feeling the crowd of suitors closing in. Their voices blend as each one tries to outdo the other, some bragging about their families' wealth and influence, others describing their supposed bravery on the battlefield or their skill in the arts. Their compliments, though flattering, feel overwhelming in their intensity.

One of the suitors, apparently more forward than the rest, dares to step close enough to reach for her hand. "Princess," he murmurs, his tone dripping with charm, "surely you wouldn’t deny a man his one chance at happiness tonight?" His words are so exaggerated that, despite herself, she nearly laughs.

"Please, gentlemen, one at a time," she says softly, her tone polite but firm, trying to steady the situation. But her plea goes largely ignored as they continue to call out, each man desperate to capture her attention.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifts, and the murmur of the ballroom falls to a hushed silence.

Entering the room with an unmistakable air of command are the Vinsmoke brothers—Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji. Dressed in their formal attire, they cut a striking presence, each of them bearing the same unmistakable blend of confidence and authority that immediately puts the other suitors on edge.

The forward suitor who had reached for (Y/N)'s hand retracts it instantly, looking as though he’s been caught in some forbidden act. One by one, the others shuffle backward, some of them clearing their throats awkwardly, their initial confidence waning as they cast wary glances at the infamous trio.

Niji, with his usual smirk, seems more amused than anything, his gaze shifting between (Y/N) and her flustered suitors. "Well, well. Seems the Princess has quite the crowd tonight," he remarks, his tone teasing.

Yonji chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest, his green eyes gleaming with mischief. "I can see why. But shouldn’t we have the chance to make her acquaintance first?"

Ichiji, ever composed and reserved, steps forward, his cool gaze fixed on (Y/N). He dips his head slightly in greeting, his voice steady and confident. "Princess, we’d be honored to escort you this evening." Though his words are polite, the faint edge in his tone makes it clear that this isn’t a mere suggestion.

The other suitors, already unnerved, take the cue and disperse, leaving the Princess alone with the Vinsmoke brothers. The crowd's murmurs fill the room again, but the once-overwhelming presence of admirers has melted away in the wake of the Vinsmokes’ intimidating aura.

Niji steps closer to (Y/N), offering a playful grin. "My apologies for interrupting your… conversation, Princess," he says with a half-bow, clearly reveling in the discomfort he’s caused among the other men. "Though I’d say we’re better company, wouldn’t you agree?"

Before she can respond, Yonji chimes in, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. "And if you’re looking for a dance partner, I’d be happy to volunteer. I may not be a poet, but I can keep up on the dance floor."

Ichiji remains silent, observing her reaction with his usual stoic expression, though his piercing gaze doesn’t leave her. He doesn’t need to speak to make his presence felt, and (Y/N) finds herself momentarily caught in his intense stare.

For a moment, (Y/N) feels both a sense of relief and renewed nervousness in their company. The Vinsmokes, though intimidating, are at least straightforward. And while their motives might be unclear, the attention of the three brothers is certainly something she can’t ignore.

“Princess,” Ichiji greets her, his voice as calm as his stare is piercing. He offers a slight bow, just enough to satisfy decorum. “Ichiji Vinsmoke of the Germa Kingdom.” His tone holds a subtle authority, his posture perfectly poised. He’s careful, almost too careful, as he appraises her.

Before (Y/N) can respond, the blonde beside him steps in. “Niji Vinsmoke,” he says smoothly, flashing a smirk as he bows. “And you must be the enchanting princess we’ve heard so much about.” His eyes flick over her in open appraisal, and there's a glint in them that she can’t quite read—amusement or calculation, perhaps. “Rumors don’t do you justice.”

Finally, the youngest of the three, with wild green hair, offers a brief, almost careless nod. “Yonji. Pleasure to meet you.” His grin is mischievous, bordering on challenging, as if he’s daring her to see past his casual demeanor.

(Y/N) gives a small, polite smile, though her gaze darts between the three of them. She’s heard stories—whispers of Germa’s military prowess, their calculated strength, and the Vinsmoke brothers’ formidable reputation. But in person, they are both more charming and intimidating than she expected.

Ichiji speaks first, his words blunt and efficient. “I imagine you’re familiar with our kingdom’s legacy?” he asks. “The Germa Kingdom has always prioritized strength and loyalty.”

“Yes, I’ve heard some things…” (Y/N) replies, careful with her words. “The tales are… unique.” She watches their reactions closely, not missing the brief exchange of glances between the brothers.

“Ah, but tales hardly capture the reality,” Niji cuts in with a smooth laugh. “They make us sound ruthless. But we’re much more… versatile.” He smirks, almost as if he’s enjoying her curiosity. “Strength and strategy are essential, but we also understand the importance of alliances.” He leans closer, adding in a lower voice, “And charming the right people.”

(Y/N) feels a blush creeping up her cheeks but holds her ground, feeling the weight of their presence. She turns to Yonji, who’s watching her with a grin. “Is that what Germa values, then? Alliances and strength?” she asks, only half-joking.

“Among other things,” Yonji replies, glancing around the room as if the whole place bores him. “Let’s just say we prefer getting what we want.” His tone is playful, yet there's an edge to it that makes her pause. “Besides, it’s more about respect. When you have it, most obstacles… disappear.”

Ichiji speaks again, his tone more measured, almost as if he’s trying to soften his brothers’ bluntness. “We’re here as allies, Princess, to support your kingdom’s goals. Germa may have its methods, but we value loyalty above all.” His gaze on her is intense, as though weighing her response carefully.

Reiju, still standing nearby, finally joins them. “They’re showing off,” she says with a small smile, playfully rolling her eyes at her brothers. “Don’t mind them. We’re not all as… direct.”

(Y/N) laughs, grateful for Reiju’s warmth, though she’s intrigued by what she’s learned. The Vinsmokes are clearly as formidable as the rumors claimed, but beneath the bravado, she senses a deeper motive. She has a feeling this is just the beginning—and that the Vinsmoke family has plans far beyond simple alliances.

As the music swells, Niji extends his hand. “Would you honor me with the next dance, Princess?” He flashes another smirk, and though (Y/N) hesitates for a moment, she accepts, unsure of what to expect.

As they move to the center of the ballroom, she glances back, catching Ichiji’s stoic expression, Yonji’s sly grin, and Reiju’s gentle nod. The game has only just begun, and (Y/N) realizes she’s now in the center of it, under the watchful eyes of Germa’s most powerful family.

The sound of the waltz fills the air, the elegant rhythm echoing across the ballroom. Reiju steps into the shadowed alcove, her eyes immediately locking onto the swirling figures of her brothers on the dance floor. Her gaze softens when she sees Niji leading (Y/N) through the steps of the dance. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips, though it remains controlled—calm.

Beside her, Ichiji stands with his usual stoic expression, though his eyes follow the pair just as intently. Yonji leans casually against the wall, his arms crossed, clearly intrigued by the unfolding moment.

"She's certainly handling Niji well," Reiju murmurs, her tone light, but with an edge of approval.

Ichiji doesn’t respond immediately, his focus unwavering. His lips are set in their usual firm line, but there’s a subtle flicker in his gaze. "She’s more composed than I expected."

"She seems to know how to handle herself in the face of attention," Yonji adds with a teasing smirk. "Though, Niji’s not the easiest dance partner to manage."

Reiju chuckles softly, though there's a glint of concern in her eyes. "Yes, but she’s holding her own. There’s something about her, isn’t there?"

Ichiji lets out a quiet hum of agreement, his expression unreadable. "She’s different," he says, his voice quieter now, as if he’s mulling over the words carefully. "It’s more than her beauty. There’s an… ease about her."

Yonji looks between his siblings, raising an eyebrow. "You’re starting to sound like you care, Ichiji. Are you already charmed?" His voice is playful, though there's a hint of curiosity underneath the teasing.

Ichiji doesn’t answer right away, but his gaze doesn’t leave (Y/N), who’s laughing softly at something Niji said. The way she moves, the way she smiles—it’s something new to him. Something he didn’t expect from someone raised in such a different environment.

Reiju watches them quietly for a moment before stepping forward slightly, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor as she turns to her brothers. "I hope you aren’t making her too uncomfortable. She’s still adjusting, and we’ve been thrust into this situation quickly."

Yonji tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don’t worry, Reiju. Niji knows what he’s doing."

Reiju gives a small nod, her gaze shifting back to (Y/N) as the dance comes to an end. She watches (Y/N) smile at Niji, clearly enjoying herself despite the tension of the evening. Reiju’s heart stirs for a moment—this is her family’s legacy they’re talking about. This is a marriage that could secure Germa’s future. But she also knows how much her brothers need this—how much they need to learn to navigate their new roles.

As the song comes to a close, (Y/N) gracefully separates from Niji, her smile lighting up the room. She looks around briefly before her eyes find Reiju, and without hesitation, she walks toward her. There’s an undeniable warmth to the way she moves, a refreshing contrast to the cold grandeur of Germa.

Reiju’s expression softens when (Y/N) approaches, her eyes glimmering with an almost maternal kindness. As she stands before her, Reiju lets out a small, reassuring breath. "I see you’ve met my brothers," she says, her voice gentle and soothing, as though offering (Y/N) a safe space amidst the overwhelming attention.

(Y/N) nods, a small laugh escaping her lips. "Yes, they’ve been very... attentive."

Reiju chuckles lightly, offering a knowing smile. "They do have a way of making their presence known. But don’t let them overwhelm you. They mean well."

(Y/N) smiles warmly, though there’s a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. "I’m just trying to keep up."

"You’re doing just fine," Reiju says, her tone sincere, her eyes full of genuine warmth. "Don’t be afraid to take things at your own pace. No one here will fault you for that."

As Reiju speaks, her brothers continue to watch from a distance, their eyes shifting between (Y/N) and each other. There’s an understanding forming between them, though it remains unspoken—this alliance is more than just a political one. It’s a new beginning, one that will change everything.

But for now, (Y/N) stands beside Reiju, a small smile gracing her lips, the soft and warm reassurance from the woman before her helping to ground her in this chaotic world.

The music continues to play in the background, a gentle waltz that lulls the room into a state of comfort. As the evening progresses, (Y/N) finds herself standing with the Vinsmoke siblings, the weight of her new life settling on her shoulders. She had heard so many rumors about them—how cold and distant they were, how they were nothing more than tools of their father’s will. Yet, as she stands here with them, they don’t seem like the villains the rumors painted them to be.

Instead, they seem... normal. Almost.

Niji stands at the edge of the group, smiling at her with that usual charming grin. Ichiji, as ever, stands with his arms crossed, his stern face giving away little of his thoughts. Yonji is leaning casually against a pillar, his mischievous smile never leaving his face. Reiju, with her calm grace, stands nearby, but her eyes are alert, watching the room carefully. The tension between them is subtle but present—like an invisible thread that binds them together, but each sibling in their own way.

(Y/N) takes a small step forward, her voice soft but warm as she smiles at them. "It’s nice to finally speak to all of you properly. I’ve heard so many rumors, you know," she says, her tone playful. "About how dangerous and cold the Vinsmokes are."

She pauses for a moment, then adds with a twinkle in her eyes, "But you don’t seem so bad to me."

The comment lingers in the air, and for a brief moment, the siblings exchange glances, all of them a little taken aback by her directness.

Niji is the first to laugh, a smooth chuckle that causes the others to relax just a little. "You have quite the courage, don’t you? Most people are too afraid to even approach us after hearing those rumors."

(Y/N) tilts her head, her smile never faltering. "Well, I think rumors are just that—rumors. They don’t always tell the full story." Her gaze moves from Niji to Ichiji. "You all seem... different. More... human, I guess?"

There’s a small pause, and then Reiju’s soft laugh fills the space. "Human, you say? You’re the first to ever say that. Most just see us as extensions of our father’s ambitions."

"Which, in some ways, we are," Ichiji’s deep voice chimes in, his tone quiet and thoughtful. "But we're also individuals. We have our own paths to walk." He looks at (Y/N), his eyes softer than she expects. "Though not many people see that. They only see the bloodline."

(Y/N) nods, a spark of understanding flashing in her eyes. "I can understand that. It must be frustrating, having people judge you before they even meet you."

Yonji grins, his arms still crossed as he watches her with a knowing expression. "You’re not like the others, are you? You don’t seem intimidated by us at all." He steps closer, his voice teasing. "You don’t even flinch when I smile."

Her lips curve up into a playful smile of her own. "I think your smile’s nice, Yonji," she says lightly, making him chuckle. "But really, I just think we’re all human, aren’t we? We all have our strengths and weaknesses, but that doesn’t mean we should be defined by one thing alone."

There’s a brief silence after her words, the siblings exchanging another round of looks, and Reiju’s expression softens just slightly. "You’re an interesting one, (Y/N). You have a way of making others feel... at ease."

(Y/N) shrugs, her hands clasped in front of her. "I just ask questions. Like, how was your journey here? I hope you didn’t run into any trouble on the way."

Ichiji tilts his head slightly, clearly surprised by her thoughtfulness. "It was uneventful. Our trip here wasn’t anything special. But it’s not often that someone asks about the journey itself. Most just want to know our plans or how we’ll impact the kingdom."

"I suppose everyone is just trying to make sure they’re on the winning side," (Y/N) says, her voice thoughtful. "But I think it’s good to focus on the little things too. Like... getting to know the people you’ll be living with."

Yonji raises an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "You think we’re the type to sit around and chat about the little things? You're in for a surprise. But I can’t say I’m not intrigued by your perspective."

Niji leans in slightly, giving her a wink. "You might be onto something. We don’t often get asked about the simple things, like how our travels were. People usually want to know about our power or our... abilities."

"Well, you’re more than just your abilities," (Y/N) responds lightly. "I’m sure there’s more to you all than what’s just on the surface."

For a moment, the siblings seem almost speechless. Niji opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Reiju gently intervenes, her voice smooth but pointed. "It’s true. People tend to focus on what’s most visible. But (Y/N), you’re different. You’re not intimidated by what you’ve heard. You want to understand who we are."

(Y/N) smiles, a little sheepishly now. "I just... wanted to talk to you all. You’re not like the rumors, and that’s something I wanted to see for myself."

There’s a soft hum of silence, the room around them seeming to slow down as the four siblings look at (Y/N) in a different light. Reiju’s eyes, usually so calculating and guarded, soften with something like approval. Niji’s usual playful expression remains, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. Yonji’s teasing smile is still there, but it’s gentler now, as if he’s been disarmed by her earnestness. And Ichiji, ever the stoic one, finds himself nodding slightly, though he says nothing.

"Well," Reiju says, her voice gentle yet firm, "I believe you’ve earned yourself a much more interesting conversation than you bargained for."

(Y/N) grins. "I’m just glad to finally talk to people who aren’t judging me right off the bat."

The conversation flows from there, the siblings no longer seeing her as just the princess they need to win over or manipulate. She’s a person—a person who is willing to see beyond the surface and ask the questions they’ve been too used to ignoring.

As the night carries on, (Y/N) finds herself feeling more at ease, the weight of her new world not quite so heavy on her shoulders. There’s something about being in the presence of these siblings, despite their reputation, that feels oddly comforting. And for the first time since her arrival, she can’t help but wonder if, maybe, this marriage might not be the prison she feared it would be.

The ballroom is full of whispered conversations, the sound of soft laughter and polite clinking of glasses filling the air. As (Y/N) converses with the Vinsmoke siblings, she remains blissfully unaware of the eyes watching her. She’s too focused on keeping the conversation going, on being warm and inviting. Her smile never falters, her tone never drops, as she asks them about their travels, about their lives, about everything and nothing all at once.

But there are others in the room, too—the nobility who look at her with calculating eyes, their whispers carried on the breeze like poisoned darts.

“I heard she’s too soft for this kingdom,” one woman says with a dismissive flick of her wrist. "She’ll never last long. Her kindness will be her downfall. She’s too naïve to understand the weight of what she's stepped into."

“I agree,” another woman murmurs, her voice dripping with malice. "A kingdom like this... it’s not a place for someone like her. She's probably too busy playing the innocent princess, but we all know it’s a game to win their hearts. She’ll be an easy target."

Their laughter is quiet but venomous, each word a little cut aimed at the heart of (Y/N). They’re sure she won’t hear it, but Reiju does. She’s standing not far off, her attention split between her brothers and the gossiping group of noblewomen. Her expression hardens as she listens to the cruel words being spoken about (Y/N).

The princess, unaware of the whispers, continues talking, smiling as she listens to Ichiji explain the finer details of his most recent mission. But Reiju’s eyes narrow, a flicker of something dark behind them. She crosses the room effortlessly, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floors, her presence commanding the attention of those nearby.

She approaches the group of noblewomen, who immediately fall silent when they notice her. Reiju’s gaze is cold, and her smile sharp, her demeanor one that could freeze the very air around her. She tilts her head, voice sweet but with an edge that makes the women uneasy.

“Such interesting things I overheard,” Reiju says, her tone laced with mock sweetness. “I didn’t know our dear princess was a subject of such... concern.”

The women stiffen, suddenly aware that they’ve been caught in their own cruelty. One of them, a particularly haughty noblewoman with an elaborate headdress, attempts to laugh it off. “Oh, Lady Reiju, we were only discussing—”

“I know exactly what you were discussing,” Reiju interrupts, her smile widening just a fraction. “And I must say, it’s very brave of you to gossip about someone you barely know. Especially when you have no idea what they’re truly capable of.” She steps closer, the temperature in the room dropping with each step. “Perhaps you should remember your place, ladies. (Y/N) is not someone you should be speaking about so flippantly.”

She doesn’t need to raise her voice or make a scene. Her presence alone is enough to make the women shrink under her gaze. They exchange uneasy glances, and for a moment, the room feels smaller.

“You know,” Reiju continues, her voice dripping with a false sweetness, “I might just tell (Y/N) exactly how concerned you all are about her. It would be a shame to see such friendly advice go to waste.” Her eyes flick to each woman in turn, her gaze cutting like a blade. "But, of course, if you’d prefer to keep this... private, I’m sure we can all pretend this never happened.”

The noblewomen exchange hurried looks, their posture straightening as they attempt to salvage what little dignity they have left. “Of course, Lady Reiju. We apologize for our words,” one of them stammers, her eyes averted.

Reiju’s smile doesn’t falter. She’s not done yet.

“It’s unfortunate,” she says, voice laced with cold amusement, “how quick people are to judge others, especially when they think no one is listening.” Her gaze sweeps over the women again, her eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. “I’d suggest you take a closer look at (Y/N) before you pass any more judgment. You never know who might be watching.”

Without waiting for a response, Reiju turns on her heel and walks away, her posture as regal as ever, leaving the women to stew in their shame.

As she returns to the corner where (Y/N) stands, the princess is still deep in conversation with Ichiji, her smile as radiant as ever. Reiju watches her for a moment before approaching, a quiet sigh escaping her lips.

She steps up beside her, her tone gentle. “I see you’ve been making quite the impression on my brothers,” she says, her voice carrying a quiet amusement. "But be careful. Not everyone here has the best intentions."

(Y/N) turns to her, unaware of the gossip that had just occurred. “Oh? What do you mean?”

Reiju’s gaze softens, and she places a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder, a surprising gesture of protectiveness. “People like to talk, especially about those they don’t understand. But don’t let it get to you.” She gives a small, reassuring smile. "I know my brothers and I may seem... intimidating. But not all of us are as cold as people make us out to be."

(Y/N) looks at her with gratitude in her eyes, completely unaware of the conversation that had just taken place. “Thank you, Reiju. I know they’ve probably said things about me... but I just don’t think it’s worth worrying over. If I can be kind to someone, that’s all I need.”

Reiju’s eyes flicker with something like admiration, though her expression remains carefully neutral. “You’re different,” she says softly, her voice almost a whisper. “And that’s not always a good thing in this kingdom. But maybe that’s exactly what it needs.”

The conversation fades into the background, the noise of the ballroom becoming a distant hum. Reiju watches as (Y/N)’s smile never falters, and despite the sharp words of the other women, it’s clear that the princess remains steadfast in her belief that kindness could change the world.

The gentle morning light filters through the curtains, and (Y/N) stirs in bed, her dreams fading into the soft sounds of footsteps approaching. A light knock taps at her door, and three of her trusted maids;Mira, Elise, and Annabelle enter, each carrying a small tray filled with breakfast delights.

Elise, setting a tray on her bedside table “Good morning, my lady! We didn’t mean to wake you too early, but we thought you might need a little extra energy today.”

Mira, grinning mischievously as she places a steaming pot of tea on the table: “Besides, we’ve got so much to tell you!”

(Y/N), still nestled in her blankets, sits up with a sleepy smile, blinking at the trays laden with fresh pastries, fruit, and a delicate, frothy tea. She accepts a warm cup from Annabelle, who’s already giggling with excitement.

“You’ll want to hear this, my lady! I’ve never seen anything like it—so many suitors, here all for you! Some have been waiting since dawn!” Annabelle spoke sitting next to her.

(Y/N), chuckling and rubbing her eyes: “Since dawn? That’s… impressive, I suppose.”

Elise said “Impressive, indeed! But wait until you hear about last night! The ballroom was still buzzing long after you left. And—” she lowers her voice, leaning in conspiratorially, “—there was quite a bit of talk about you and the Vinsmoke family.”

Mira raises her eyebrows, offering a plate of delicate pastries as she speaks. “Everyone was speculating, my lady! There were whispers that the Vinsmoke sons were rather taken with you. Especially the eldest… a lot of the young noble ladies seemed quite put out by it.”

(Y/N) laughs softly, breaking off a piece of a flaky croissant and popping it into her mouth.

(Y/N): “Oh, dear. I didn’t mean to cause any drama.”

Annabelle, waving a hand dismissively: “Oh, it wasn’t you causing it, my lady. It was them!” She smirks, nudging Elise. “I heard one of the ladies say they’d ‘never seen Ichiji look so… attentive.’”

Elise giggles, passing (Y/N) a plate with fresh berries. “And Niji didn’t seem to mind dancing with you at all! The way he kept close was… well, very bold.”

Mira, pouring tea with a smile: “And then there’s Yonji, of course—he was following you around with a grin like a puppy. I don’t think I’ve seen him take such interest in anyone before.”

(Y/N) blushes, sipping her tea to hide her smile. She’s used to the girls’ chatter, but the genuine excitement in their voices makes her feel a mixture of flattery and amusement.

Annabelle, sitting beside her on the bed as if they’re sharing secrets: “And now, after such a grand entrance with the Vinsmokes, you have a line of suitors downstairs waiting for you. Some even brought gifts—flowers, silks, even a few precious gems!”

Elise, rolling her eyes playfully: “Oh, but some of them looked like they were just trying to outdo each other. One even asked if you’d be interested in falconry—his prized sport, apparently. As if a princess has time for such things!”

(Y/N) laughs, the image of herself with a falcon perched on her arm seeming a bit ridiculous. The maids join in, their giggles filling the room as they continue to primp and prepare her for the day.

Mira, brushing out (Y/N)’s hair carefully “I suppose they’ll all be trying to impress you, but honestly, my lady, none of them seem half as interesting as those Vinsmokes.”

Annabelle spoke up excitedly “Oh, you could see it last night, couldn’t you? Each of them seemed to have their own way of trying to charm you.”

(Y/N), thoughtful but amused “They were… different than I expected, I’ll admit. I thought they’d be so distant, with all those rumors about them, but they seemed… well, more human than I expected.”

Elise, gently pinning a few hair strands back with pearls “Perhaps they felt the same about you, my lady. It’s not every day they meet someone who isn’t intimidated by their reputation.”

The other maids nod in agreement, adjusting (Y/N)’s gown and adding delicate jewelry to complete her look. They continue to talk, sharing little anecdotes and thoughts about the suitors below, some overly eager, others almost comically trying to seem dashing.

Annabelle, smiling as she hands (Y/N) a mirror “You look beautiful, my lady. They’ll all be smitten in an instant."

(Y/N) glances at herself, taking in the careful work her maids have done to make her look her best. Their excitement and warmth fill her with courage, and with one last glance at her friends, she takes a deep breath.

(Y/N) “Thank you, truly. You’ve made all of this feel much less daunting.”

[relevant-url-incoming]

Every day I contemplate how absolutely wild it would be for anyone who knows adult Ven to meet her as a teenager. Like. Jorgan knows her the longest but even at 20 she's being very nice, because she is intensely aware of the fact that this is the first time she's ever had the backing of an actual government behind her. She was declared a terrorist once for just existing as a child and then again as a teenager for actual shit she did, and as ashamed as she is of some of that teenaged Ven still clung to it as a kind of "fuck you" to the establishment she fought. The people in her adult life all tend to see her as this beacon of forgiveness or whatever, but Ven started out vindictive and fairly cold-hearted if she thought you were going against one of her deeply held beliefs. Sure, if you betray forty year old Ven, she would hold your hand and ask you if you're doing all right and if there's something going on and you want a second chance, but twenty year old Ven would give you ten seconds to explain before she shot you in the shoulder and seventeen year old Ven would just kill you dead as soon as she found out. Like. I don't even know where I'm going with this and I have barely said anything about Ven on here but every now and then I'm possessed by the urge to ramble incoherently about how much she changes over time and how few people even see beneath her friendly facade to notice.

[criminalamnesia]

everyone’s asking for a part two so here is more angst bc cedar by gracie abrams is perfect for this [ also inspired by what @shotmrmiller said in their reblog :)) ]

part one here

part three (aka version 1 of the ending) here

part three (ending version 2) here

it’s odd coming home to an empty house. unnerving, even. he doesn’t like it— dislikes it even more than he did your celebrations. fuck, he’d kill for those damn streamers right now.

“love?” his voice is soft as he calls out into the dark, once lively little flat. it hasn’t felt this big since before you had moved in.

he takes a few more steps inside, toeing off his boots and letting his backpack fall to the floor. by now, you would’ve been launching yourself into his arms. where were you? you’d never missed the day he came home. ever. you would have it marked on your calendar from the day he left, exclamation points and stars decorating the date.

“love?” he calls again, his voice a little louder. he keeps moving; notices there’s no smell of freshly baked goods or a home-cooked meal.

he rounds the corner, his eyes instantly finding the little note propped up on the dining table. eyebrows furrowed, he approaches. it’s addressed to him, clearly in your handwriting.

he reads it, and he really should’ve seen all of this coming.

he doesn’t cry. doesn’t even feel sad, really. it’s not like he hadn’t loved you— he had, but sometimes you made it really damn difficult to. your constant touches and words, doting on him, talking his ear off about this and that. he’d loved it at first, then came to tolerate it, and eventually he found himself hating it.

it wasn’t fair to you. he didn’t hate you, he hated the naivety. the unconditional love. partners were supposed to show each other that kind of love, were they not? so why did he come to despise it?

perhaps it was some deep rooted self-hatred. something dark and twisted inside of him that had done too much and taken life. killed and killed and killed. watched his comrades die in a number of ways. slowly. quickly. suddenly. brutally.

it hollowed him out, but it was his job. it was his job to do what he could for the damn world— get his hands dirty so people like you would never have to worry about a damn thing.

he should’ve seen it coming. you had been acting a little odd the last time he was home, he realizes now. detached, almost. quieter. he had cherished the quiet then.

now it was weird. he didn’t know how to feel.

he placed the note back down onto the table before making his way into the kitchen. some utensils were missing. some plates and bowls. the colorful dishrags you’d hung from the stove handle. the little plant you’d stationed in front of the window above the sink.

all the pictures of the two of you remained on the fridge. he could see in the photos how he slowly became detached. but you— god, you wore that dazzling smile in every photo.

he turned around and headed towards the bedroom.

——————————————————————

there wasn’t really any defining closure. you’d left the note, sure, but he hadn’t gotten to speak his piece.

would he have begged you to stay? told you to leave?

he didn’t know. all he knew was that it wasn’t fair to you, how he acted. what he did.

he also knew that if you called, or if you showed up and said you forgot something, or hell, if he saw you on the street, he’d say something. apologize at least, because that’s the least you deserved.

but you didn’t, and after a few days, he stopped thinking about you. what you’d be telling him right now if you were there. stopped thinking about how you sang when you cooked dinner. how you would reach for his hand when the two of you were in the grocery store.

how you would throw those damn ‘welcome home!’ parties.

he fell back into who he was, and your memory became nothing but a minuscule dot on a large piece of paper.

but for you? you had been miserable when you’d shown up at your friends apartment. cried into her shoulder as you told her about the note. sobbed as you realized that he didn’t care about you, and how you’d wasted so much time on this man who didn’t give a damn.

but even still, when you stirred in the middle of the night, you expected to feel his hands around your body. expected him to press a kiss to your head as you drifted back to sleep.

you woke up and expected him to be there. you forgot that he wasn’t yours. you found yourself missing him, even though you’d starting doing that far before you actually left.

it took the man you loved days to move on. it took you months— almost a year. he put you in fucking therapy, for god’s sake, because that shit messes with someone.

loving someone so completely, so wholly, only to finally realize it’s one sided? it’s crushing. he crushed you. but you picked up the pieces, and you put yourself back together.

you move on. find someone who actually cares for you— someone who communicates and doesn’t lose interest. someone who appreciates your enthusiasm. someone who returns it.

and when the man that broke your heart several years ago tries to stop you on the street one day,

you keep walking.

[rimunagenius]

It’s Time You Switch

ʚ pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

ʚ word count: 4.4k words

ʚ prompt: “Fuck your boyfriend, he a bitch. I think it’s time you switch.”

ʚ warnings: RPF!! , smut!!, voyeurism, dirty talk?, face riding, fingering, oral reader!receiving, basically porn with little plot

ʚ rimunagenius speaks: in which Paige turns straight girls ;) i have not written smut since my wattpad era so im sooo insanely rusty but i also have never felt the touch of a woman romantically sooo idek if this will be any good…suggestions are welcome to make it better!! and for future works!!

| Masterlist | Women’s Basketball Masterlist |

"I don't know what I did to him, though. That's what I can't let go. He's being so dry and cold." You told the team as you did dynamic warm up before practice started.

Coach G just shook his head, listening to all your guy problems. This was just another boy for him to hate on campus. At this rate, the whole male and female population at UConn was on his shit list.

"I say, you dump him." KK said, patting your back mid walking lunge. "He's been doing this for months now, it's time to drop him, girl boo.” You told KK a lot of things. She was just a freshman but she become a quick and good friend.

You met her in a class you had been taking and started talking, soon finding out you were both on the same team. It shocked her, but after finding out you stayed off social media, the press release of her committing was new news. You were a senior and she was a freshman, but this friendship was like you two knew eachother forever.

"Yeah, I agree with K." Paige said, from the other side of you. A soft, comforting smile on her face.

"You know what could fix this? A girls night." Aaliyah smiled, her eyebrows wiggling suggesting you guys go out.

"I know you're not planning to go out, get drunk on the night before a game." Coach yelled from his seat on the bench.

"But Coach, c'mon! My girls feeling sad." Paige feigned a pout, grabbing your shoulders and pointing your face, you pouting your lips and batting your lashes.

"Nah, it's okay. I don't really want to go out anyways. Staying in is the move." You sighed, the stretching finished.

You talked about it all practice—sad about it all practice. After, Paige suggested you come over to her place, a sleepover. You begrudgingly agreed. Telling her she needed to take you home to get some clothes; Paige shutting it down because you could borrow hers.

That was the first mistake. It didn't feel like a mistake in the end but that was the first step to a very confusing day afterwards. The second, sharing a bed with the blonde.

You both decided to lay in her bed, get fat on snacks, and watch all the movies you could before getting sleepy and tapping out for the night. I guess Paige had another tapping in mind.

"You know he doesn't deserve you so why do you stay with him?" Paige disregarded the movie, turning her head slightly to look at you.

"He does deserve me, he's just struggling, I guess." You shrugged your shoulders, dwelling on the fact that you couldn't figure out what he was actually struggling with.

"Fuck your boyfriend. He's a bitch for the way he's acting with a pretty girl like you." Paige got passionate about defending her friends. Especially when someone in their life wasn't treating them right. She was more of a protector. A fierce one.

"Paige, that's a little mean."

"It's true. It's time you switched. I'm telling you, girls are so much less complicated. They're easier to read and better at communicating." Paige smirked to you, knowing you wouldn't shoot for it.

"Please, if I knew how, I would." You rolled your eyes, looking down, shoving a potato chip in your mouth.

Paige's eyes went wide. There's no way you were actually serious. You looked like the straightest of straight girls, a very attractive one. Which is why she thought it sucked you didn't swing that way. "No way, are you serious?" She laughed.

"Yeah, but I dont even think I like girls like that." You furrowed your brows. You never actually thought about it. You had no idea if the "girl crushes" you had were actually crushes.

"What does that mean?"

"Like, I've seen girls and thought they were super attractive. I'd wonder what it'd be like to kiss them, and I used to say i’d treat them better than their actual boyfriends, but I didn't think that far." That set it off for Paige. That's how it started. First you thought about what it'd be like to kiss a girl, then to date, and then to fuck.

"Have you ever thought about dating them?" Paige already knew where this was going.

"Yeah sort of. But I was always with him that it was whatever." You looked to Paige.

"Well it's time you switch." She smiled smugly at you, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm down to show you how." That was the most forward Paige had ever been with a girl. She knew it was swaying you, the contemplation clouding your vision, deep in thought.

"What do you mean 'show me'? Like how to fuck?" Your brows furrowed as you questioned the blonde beside you.

"That's exactly what I mean..." Paige's eyes watched yours, waiting for the green light.

"Okay." Suddenly the air in your lungs disappeared when Paige grabbed your face and kissed you deeply. She wanted this for so long. You and her had been bestfriends all throughout your childhood. She had even told Geno he couldn't give her an offer without giving you one. Your skills in basketball were exceptional, your work ethic and athleticism and ability to work with people around you. You and Paige made a great team.

She had admired everything about you for as long as she could remember. She was just waiting on you. You moaned into the kiss, opening your legs so she could slot her body between yours, achieving the best angle to kiss you.

Something in you felt like this was all muscle memory. Like you two have done this before. Her hands moved to your hips, her grip firm but so soft. You two kicking the snacks off the bed, not caring about the mess that was to be made.

"Imma take your clothes off...that okay?" Paige's lips trailed down the collumn of your neck, moaning at the sensation your body sparked throughout her body.

"Yeah, okay. Please." Instantaneously Paige's fingers dropped the the waistband of your pajama shorts, and the waistband of your underwear. The feeling of lace pulling a groan from the blondes throat. Ridding you of your pants and underwear, her hand grabbed the hem of your shirt—her shirt, sliding it up.

You sat up, pulling it off, panting softly. You couldn't believe this was happening. The least you expected from this sleepover was hooking up with your bestfriend, in her bed, on a friday night. You then grabbed Paige's face, needing her lips on yours like you were a woman starved.

Paige was a sweetheart; a golden retriever, kind, and good person...but when it came to her game, on and off the court, she was literally a cocky fuck boy who could prove they could get into your pants. She was a respectful woman, one of the best even, but the second mutual interest was involved; game over.

While making out, her hand cupping your breast over the padding of your bra, the only clothing you seemed to have on left, she bit your bottom lip, slightly tugging on it with her teeth. Your back arched, moaning at the sensation she was able to wash your body in, she quickly unclasped your bra, sliding the straps off when you were flat on your back.

Having the soft skin of yours exposed, she slowed her movements, dodging your face when you tried to kiss her again. "Show me how he got you off." The sentence shocked you.

"Huh?" You looked at her, her eyes having the same challenging look. She knew she'd do ten times better than he ever could. Plus, it helped that her anatomy and your anatomy were the same...meaning, she knew where everything was.

"You heard me, show me what he did for you, so I can show you that I can do it better." Her long hair falling on her shoulders, she slid her Huskies t-shirt off, leaving her in a black sports bra.

You shifted on the bed, nervous but willing. She already had you naked, you were already so wet so you knew when you try and fail to get yourself off like how your ex did, she'd make it better. Paige always made it better.

You reached your hand down, sliding your fingers through your soaking wet cunt, gathering as much as your slick as possible, gasping softly. The feeling of your fingers ghosting your clit, you remembered that you were supposed to be doing this how he did, so you disregarded the spot your body ached and pleaded for physical contact, and jumped straight to inserting two fingers.

You looked at Paige, a look in her eyes you've never seen before. "Wait, he didn't even—?" She was confused but really focused nonetheless. You knew she wasn't really paying attention to what you were doing, she was; she was literally getting soaked at watching you play with yourself, but she just couldn't take her eyes off your pretty pussy. She would never be your 'friend' again after tonight.

You shook your head at her question and continued in fingering your self, curling your fingers at the right spots, maintaining the even yet somewhat hasty pace. Your panting started to get louder, your eyes fluttering closed every now and again. Slowly coaxing yourself to your high, you spread your legs wider, reaching your hand out, signaling Paige you wanted her to grab your hand.

She placed her hand in yours and she was immediately pulled on top of you, your mouth finding hers. Your hand never wavered in the work you were doing on yourself, which is why Paige swallowed the loud moan induced by your orgasm, as you slowly started to slow the rhythm of your fingers, riding out the small orgasm.

You don't know why you did it, you only were conscious of it after you had placed the fingers that were previously inside of you, into her mouth. Your jaw slack, jus a tiny bit, watching and feeling her lick your fingers, swallowing any trace of your she can hope to find. You couldn’t believe you were behaving like this. So dirty but so willing.

Paige moaned at the action, not trying to deny that what you had done could've made her come alone. She started to drag her lips from yours, to the corner of your lips, to your cheek, all the way to and down your neck, sloppy and lazy but sensual kisses were left in her wake.

She wouldn't dare leave any marks behind, your guys' team would calculate what went down her tonight. So she settled for non-visible hickeys. When her lips met your breasts, she took her sweet time with both. Her tongue swirling around your taught nipple, her free hand kneeding the other.

Your back was already arching off the bed, hands tugging at the sheets below you. The soft cries leaving your lips egging her on.

She moved across the other breast, a trail of purple and red trailing the way, her hand switched places. You couldn't take this...you needed her somewhere else. You loved this but holy was she dragging it out.

Before you could even ask—beg, her to move where you were so desperately wanting her, her hand was already spreading your leg open, lips following a foreign, yet so familiar path, all the way down to the curve of your thighs.

She started slowly, opting to tease you, but also educate you like she promised. You understood the significance of foreplay, hell you craved it in your evidently clear soon to be previous relationship, but you couldn't take the ache your pussy had for Paige. It's like it knew you needed her all along. It didn't help that you hated the prolonged attention, but also loved it. Watching her worship your body was something so unexplainably attractive.

The way she slowly placed soft kisses from your knees, massaging the soft skin of your calf's along the way, all the way up your thigh. The closer her lips got to your center, the more antsy you became. You needed her mouth to connect already. You couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh, my god. Paige...please." You sighed, your panting growing more and more viscous.

"Please what, gorgeous?" Her lips ghosted over your wet folds as she moved to the other leg, now blatantly teasing the fuck out of you, while she smiled and kissed every expanse she could.

"Please just eat my pussy already. I can't take it." You almost cried begging her to finally do something. She had you masturbate infront of her for christ sake.

"Whatever you want." She looked into your eyes, her pupils blown, a blissed out smile and haze on her face. Almost immediately after, her face disappeared in between your legs. Paige licked a stripe up your soaking cunt, from the entrance all the way to the most sensitive nerve ending.

The sound that escaped your mouth was borderline pornographic as the built up arousal finally was being tended to. The feeling of her slick tongue running one more stripe through your folds before swirling around your clit was something you absolutely could not imagine. Your mind in a foggy mess.

"You taste so sweet, baby." The name leaving her mouth ignited fuzziness that you felt in your toes all the way to your scalp. Her voice hoarse, mouth glistening from you, you could never get this sight out of your head; nor did you want to.

"Ohhhh, my god." It came out like a pure cry. The choked moans mixed with tears and strained sobs, elicited a newfound hunger in Paige.

Her mouth doing double time, her tongue swirling and licking perfectly paced, her lips sucking and kissing all the right places at the right time, started to build up the coil in your belly. The feeling growing more and more intense the more she praised you from between your legs. "You're doing so good for me, baby." You couldn't even breathe.

The coil snapping, the tension in your belly now releasing, a gushing mess now painted Paige's gorgeous face, your mouth agape.

You couldn't help but scream...almost. Your moan so loud, Paige covered your mouth with her hand. "Shh, don't want the neighbors to hear." Paige panted softly in your ear, before cracking the signature smirk.

The smugness she had while she saw the aftermath of what seemed to be the best orgasm you have ever had in your life. Your breathing still shallow, your chest heaving, the pattern of the way it rises and falls mesmerizes Paige. Her ego being fed tremendously watching the way you fell apart just by her going down on you.

She couldn't help but want to brag to your ex that he couldn't even make you feel half of what she just did. The accomplishment of getting you to look like this in her bed, your breath fanning over her face as she hovered over you, the accomplishment in having you like this, with her in her bed, was truly a miracle.

Paige loved it. She could go this whole night just fulfilling your needs, showing you everything you missed out on in your pointless one sided relationship. She intended to.

"Oh, my god. That was—" You stopped, your breath finally returning. "That was fucking amazing." You looked at the blonde who seemed to be content watching you fall apart.

The smugness on her face but the adoration of you being here, pure evidence that she was enjoying every second of it. "It was. Didn't know you were a screamer." The cocky Paige returned, forgetting keeping the moment remotely intimate. You smacked her arm that rested next to your body, and grabbed her face and kissed her.

You caught her off guard, her mouth open due to a small gasp, and took that as your chance to slide your tongue in her mouth. You two made out like horny teenagers. You two weren't that far from being teenagers, that was only a couple years ago, but you two made eachother feel like two young kids, absolutely enamored with the idea of each other that you couldn't get off of eachother.

You two made out, you slowly turning yourself so you could be on top. Paige knew what you were trying to do, allowing you to take control for now. You oulled apart, looking down at her, picturing this, saving it for the foreseeable future. Chasing your lips, Paige grabbed your face, pulling you into a deepening kiss. You two literally couldn't get enough of eachother.

Before you could even get the rest of Paige's clothes off, she grabbed your hips that were resting on hers, and pulled them forcefully over towards her chest. You gasped and yelped, suprised at the sudden force she was using. Hesitant to follow, you saw her hungry gaze go between your eyes and your now—again, soaking cunt.

There was no way. "Paige, no. Don't even think about it." You warned, a small intimidating look. It normally had an affect on Paige on the court, knowing when she saw it, you talked a big game and backed it up. But right now, in the bedroom, you were hers and she had the control.

Tonight was to show you what you were missing out on, and how to get a girl going. There was no way she'd let you have the control, no matter how much she wanted it. She'd save that for another night. Maybe she was getting too ahead of herself, but there was going to be another night with you.

"What are you talking about?" The smugness returned, along with a feigned clueless look. You couldn't take her serious with the fact that your thighs were damn near putting her in a chokehold, her hands inching you closer and closer to where she wanted you...where she wanted you to sit, preferably.

"Paige, i'm not about to sit on your face." You tried scooting back, forgetting that Paige was actually stronger than you. The ferocity in which she pulled your hips, your pussy ghosting her lips at the force and aim in which she yanked you, a small gasp escaped your sealed lips.

You yanked your hips back, giving her a pointed look. "I was trying to literally fuck you, not trying to sit on your face. Let me make you feel good, baby." Paige knew she could get away with calling you baby, you probably weren't thinking much of it when she said it. But Paige said it with conviction, just the way you did right now.

The name only egged her on when you used it in this context. The only context Paige wanted to hear it in. "Your making me feel good by letting me make you feel good. I promise i'm fine, I just want you to sit this pretty pussy on my face. Will you let me?" Her eyes sincere, the smirk playing on her lips slowly convincing you by the second.

"You promise?" You whispered, suddenly conforming to the blonde underneath you. Something about the way she talked easily convinced you.

"Yeah. Promise." You stared down at her, unsure. Not wanting to crush her, your thighs being pretty full, the muscle you've built over the years, and just the general size being something you've been insecure about since you were a little girl.  She knew that.

That's why when she saw the look on your face, she kissed your thighs. In whatever spot she could reach. She gave you a reassuring nod, smile on her face. Albeit you didn't know what kind—cocky or comforting. Either way, when she said what she did, you immediately obeyed.

"Sit on my face." You then moved both knees eye level with Paige, falling back slightly, your pussy ghosting her lips again. The second you put your full weight on her face, her mouth got to work.

The sensation and new angle elicited some explicit sounds. 'Didn't know you were a screamer' kept replaying in your head when you tried to quiet down the moans only Piage seemed to be able to pull from you, escaped your lips.

Her hands cupped your ass, pressing your body down impossibly closer and harder into her face. She seemed to be pushing so hard, you were scared you were going to suffocate her. Her tongue teased your entrance, swiftly ghosting in and out of it, before lapping at your folds and clit perfectly.

She ate you like a woman starved. Like if this was her last meal. You had enjoyed every second of this exchange. You reached your hand down slowly, softly moving your hand in slow circles on your clit, overstimulating yourself.

Paige took notice of your fingers now getting to work, a gravely groan reverberating into your wet pussy as she looked up at you, and quickly closing her eyes in bliss. She decided that since you wanted to touch yourself, she'd slide a finger or two into you. To really get you going. Wasn’t the most ideal positioning but she was going to make it work.

Her head bobbed subtly, effectively getting her tongue into the small space where her fingers were about to make an appearance. Inserting one finger, Paige watched, felt, and listened to the way your body reacted to her movements.

Using each reaction to her advantage. The small gasp you let out when she inserted herself into you, the way your breathing reluctantly changed pace, so she inserted another, noticing how your breath picked up. That's when she curled her fingers methodically to the pace she set for herself, matching the pace you set while you continued rubbing circles in your clit.

It didn't take long for Paige to brung you closer to the edge while her tongue picked up the slack for your fingers. You stopped your movements and let her do the work, she could tell it was good by the volume your pants and moans were sounding. She was working overtime while you ran your hand over her hair, eventually looking for another anchor to grip to while you violently come undone by your best friend. "Oh, my god. Right there. Don't stop." You panted, your jaw dropped.

Your legs started to shake, Paige's pace relentless while she finger fucked you in her bed, while she simultaneously ate you out. This wasn't the way you expected to spend your night, and neither did Paige, but holy fuck was it worth it.

"Don't you dare stop—Oh!" The coil snapped once again, a guttural cry and moan left your lips. You swore that any person who was passing by Paige's apartment would've thought you were filming porn. The moans you moaned were insane and absolutely the biggest turn on for Paige. She wouldn't lie and say she didn't already get off on just hearing you.

Yeah, she worked at you, and saw your oh so pretty parts, but listening to the affect she had on you, the comparison made between her and your ex and the ego boost that came with it, were just the perfect amount to get her off on just pleasuring you for the last two hours.

Your breath uneven, slowly moving your legs away from her face, your chest still heaving. She chuckled softly, before looking over to you, while you laid yourself next to her. "That's how it's done, baby." Paige held her hand up, trying to signal a high five.

You looked at her blankly, her seeing the absolute fucked our face you had, and then pulled you closer to her. Your body resting against hers; the stark contrast of your overheated body, compared to her cold and cool body.

The contrast easing the overwhelmed feeling you harbored just a little easier. "You did so good for me, baby. You looked so hot while I made you come. Couldn't believe it." You smacked her chest, feeling a little cringed that she had to see you and all the faces you could've made while you had the most earth shattering orgasms.

"Paige. Oh my god, stop." You laughed, she did too, You two laid there for a minute before she broke the silence.

"You're not going back to him, right?" Her voice now withdrawn from the cockiness and confident undertones, and just pure nerves and concern. She hoped you'd say no. That you'd choose to stay with her, and tell her he was just there until you realized your feelings for her were the same as the ones she's had for you all these years.

"No, I'm breaking up with him tomorrow. You think i'd go back to him, when he couldn't do half the shit you did with your tongue alone? Yeah, right." You looked up at Paige, your bestfriend. You couldn't believe this is what your relationship evolved to in a matter of two hours.

"Soo, that means..." Paige was hopeful. She just wanted you to say what she's been wanting to say for years.

"Let's date. I love you, you obviously love me," She looked away, embarrassed, and playfully pushed you away. You grabbed her arm, pulling her back so she could look you in the eyes. "Do you want to be my girlfriend? Serious."

"Serious. I'll be your girlfriend. Finally." Paige kissed you, slowly. Melting into eachother, the weight of the new relationship status now sinking in. You two were ecstatic.

You decided to clean up, showering, again, her inevitably joining you. When you both settled and were ready for bed. Too tired and fucked out to continue the movie—restart the movie—you two had started a while ago, it was quiet and dark in the room when Paige suddenly whispered, "I knew you weren't straight."

"Paige, got to sleep! Oh my god." You chuckled before smacking her with the pillow under your head.

"Jeez! Sorry! But I called it."

[sugarlywhispers]

viking!b.katsuki x fem!reader

a.n; i wanted to give viking!bakugou a try, and honestly, this is all @imaginationmess fault for feeding me fanarts of bakugou and his dragon🙃 luv you tho🤍

Viking Bakugou Katsuki who rides the biggest and most terrifying dragon that has ever existed.

A legend said that his dragon in particular had been going on for generations in his family, no one willing to risk their life to tame it. Until Katsuki’s uncle, Bakugou Kudo, did it. He had been the first in generations to ride this dragon. Yet he understood that the bond between dragon and riders was not consolidated between them.

When Katsuki was eight, the little shit escaped the hut and went towards where the nests were. Kudo almost had a heart attack when he saw the brat far off and almost there. He sprinted as fast as he could, a tragedy already displaying in his head –the kid being incinerated, turned to ashes, and his sister cutting his dick off for being a sorry ass uncle. Fuck, and he would had deserved it. Because even though he had tamed the beast, it was still very unstable to let anyone close to it; one of his own men had suffered the consequences of trying to get close, more than half his body had been burned. He was no longer part of their battles.

However, Kudo saw in first person how a dragon’s bond was created. Between his terrifying dragon and his little nephew.

It hadn’t looked much from his perspective, yet he felt the magical aura surrounding them. Katsuki laughed as he touched the dragon’s snot like it was a mer pup, happy and excited while climbing its leg with such ease until he was up on its back, right behind the head. The dragon himself helped the kid to reach the place. Kudo noticed then the beast’s eyes shining a very resplendent gold. Yep, that was definitely a bond.The kid was anything but scared, as he caressed the dragon's head, hugging it even.

Kudo smiled, shaking his head, hands over his hips as he took a deep breath, relaxing. The dragon was only letting him ride it because it knew that Katsuki was his bonded rider and Kudo was related by blood to the kid.

As years went by, the bond only became stronger and deeper. Kudo would ride it in battles, but once at home, the brat and the beast were like one. When Katsuki turned eighteen, Kudo retired from battles and settled down with a wife and kids at the village located next to that of where their family originally came from. From that day on, the brat became the dragon’s one and only owner.

Katsuki was the only human being able to control, care for and command this massive dragon, also becoming the nightmare of most villages in the world. Both, dragon and rider were vicious, deadly and feared.

You still remember the day Bakugou Katsuki landed on your lands. The bright blue sky suddenly turned dark, the huge dragon he rode clouding the sun above. Everyone knew what it meant. Destruction and chaos, the end of their peaceful lives.

The Leader of the village, your dad, didn’t waste time in trying to negotiate a truce between them.

And that truce is you.

You are forced to marry him, to leave your family, friends and life there and go with this barbaric man. You are a bit afraid he is some sort of savage. Rumors told how violent he was, how scary he looked with his scars and aggressive attitude towards everyone. Now that you have said man in front of you, you agreed with all of them.

You were expecting him to manhandle you, to treat you like another woman he picked to use for his own pleasure. Yet all you received since you stepped foot in his village, in his home, had been nothing but coldness and distance. He has kept to himself, doing his stuff and trying not to get in your way. Least to say, it has been completely awkward since the ceremony.

When you are getting ready for it, his mom enters his-your hut. She smiles, a sincere feeling in her eyes, “Being the daughter of a Leader sucks, ain’t it?”

You look down, a slight smile on your face that agrees with her but eyes filled with tears you’re holding back. “It does.”

You feel her hand on your shoulder, and the little squish she gives it in reassurance makes the knot in your throat tighter.

“My son is not a charming prince; however, I know the kind of man I raised him to be. You’re gonna be okay.”

You don’t say anything in response. You don’t even look back at her, but you think she didn’t expect it either as she walks out, leaving you alone. As you walk towards the entrance, fully knowing that once you cross it, your soon to be husband will be waiting at the end of the aisle, all you can wish is that Ms. Bakugou is right.

When the ceremony reaches its end, the old lady of his village drawing the symbols of union, love and family in your foreheads, Bakugou extends his hands for you to lay yours over his. You still haven’t looked him in the eyes, but you do what's expected for the ceremony. When your hands touch the skin of his, you can't avoid thinking how warm they feel. Big calloused, rough and strong hands surround yours, and you don't hate the feeling. On the contrary, it’s quite comforting. The old lady ties a beautifully white and gold silk ribbon around your hands, symbolizing the union of the souls.

While everyone cheers, you finally decide to raise your eyes towards him. Deep red eyes collide with yours, making a shudder run your body at their intensity. Surprisingly, it isn’t a bad feeling, but it is something you have never felt before.

A tingly feeling swirls in your stomach as you realize Bakugou Katsuki's face is getting closer and closer to yours, his intent clear. He is going to kiss you. Your first kiss. You close your eyes instinctively and his lips touch yours in a quick and short peck. Yet it feels like all the tingles in your stomach exploded, sending warmth throughout your whole body.

That has been the only close and physical interaction you have had until today.

Bakugou Katsuki decides to give you space to accommodate and get to know his village and people around.

It doesn't mean he doesn't want you. However, he never makes any sort of move towards you.

Until one day…

Bakugou got back that morning to the village after being away for almost four days with the victory of conquering another village, so you decide to bring him some of the sweet bread you have cooked as a welcome back. You have to admit, this time with him since the marriage ceremony hasn’t been bad. Civil, even. Despite his distance and cold attitude, he has never disrespected or forced you to nothing. Not even that first night as husband and wife. He didn’t even try, he simply picked one of the pillows and clothes to make a bed on the floor, closer to the entrance door, and slept there. You have been very confused. Your mum had previously told you everything of what was expected from a woman on the night of the ceremony. You expected even a fight between you two, because of course you didn’t want that to happen with a complete stranger like he was still to you.

Nevertheless, he never hovers over you. But you do feel his eyes on you whenever he’s around. He always makes some sort of sound for you to acknowledge that his presence is close. Katsuki is attentive to your reactions whenever you are both alone and doesn't even raise his voice at you. Ever.

Then again, he is his ruthless self with everyone else.

You tried looking for him around the village, but couldn't find Bakugou anywhere. So you walk towards the woods where you know the dragon's nests are, where they rest. Even though Bakugou has explicitly forbidden you to go near there, due to the danger their dragons were most of the time, even for the riders.

You are confident Katsuki will be there, so probably he will see you from a distance and you wont need to get that close. But when you arrive, you come face to face with the massive beast: Bakugou's dragon, Cweorth.

You have seen it at a distance, but having the beast up close is a completely different experience. Its whole body is red, with golden piercing eyes that feel very much like Bakugou’s itself. Its wings are huge as they spread in a stretching movement up high, almost taller than the big trees that surround the woods. You can even see some flare of gold in its scale that actually looks mesmerizing. Majestic.

Your basket falls to the floor in shock when the beast finally looks down at your small, minuscule being. It watches you intently, with a scowl on its face –like beast, like owner. But far away from feeling scared by it, you feel intrigued. You feel enamored even as you stand there, looking at such majestic creature.

Bakugou is actually several meters away, taking a bath in the lake close to the nests, cleaning all the blood and dirt off his body before going to the hut he shares with you. He has some scratches and cuts from the fights, but nothing deep or worrisome. He is very proud in saying he is the fucking best out there.

When he's walking through the woods back to the nests of their dragons, he sees it.

His whole body freezes. You are standing there, your arm and hand stretched upwards. His own dragon, the one who eats men like candy at Katsuki's own command, the one who has burned villages in seconds with his strong fire, the one who hates anyone’s touch or closeness that isn't Bakugou himself... His dragon has his snot close to you, letting you pet him with its eyes closed, enjoying your affection like a small puppy dog.

And he can not fucking believe what his eyes are seeing.

Of all the women he has had before you, none were brave enough to even look at the beast. They had all been afraid to death.

And there you stand, looking even fascinated by it. Eyes shining and smiling as you feel for the first time what its skin is like under your touch. You look… beautiful. Gorgeous. Heavenly sent. Fuck. You have him in your hands already.

Bakugou Katsuki then decides:

He will fucking kiss the ground you walk. He will give you everything you ask of him.

You want certain clothes to wear? He will search for them for you. You want certain foods? He will fly his dragon to wherever they are made or grown on. You want a land? He will fucking burn every single thing or life it takes to give it to you.

You want him? He will gladly give himself completely to you.

Well, he already is.

[inkedinshadows]

Little Rainbow

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: When you can’t comfort your baby daughter, you bring her to her dad, who always manages to calm her down.

Warnings: just lots of fluff

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: I thought I'd try my hand at writing second person pov instead of third. It just felt natural to write this one in 2nd pov. Maybe I'll stick with it in the future idk. This was born out of my baby fever btw, enjoy!

Azriel sensed you right before his shadows whispered of your arrival. He would recognize those steps and those soft wails anywhere.

A smile was already on his lips when the door opened with a small creak and you, his beautiful and loving mate, walked in holding your few-months-old daughter in your arms.

Leaning against the back of his chair, he watched as his shadows shot forward to greet the two of you, writhing around you and caressing your cheeks. You chuckled, but your daughter's soft cries stopped only for a moment before starting again, her little face even redder.

Azriel had spent centuries thinking he would never find love, that he wasn't good enough to deserve it. He was glad for his brothers’ happiness, and yet silently jealous of what they had. Brother, uncle, friend—he was grateful for it all, he truly was, but he longed for something more.

Then he met you.

Even before the mating bond snapped, he already knew you were the one. He had never been so smitten with someone in all his long years. He fell for you as quickly as a stone sinks in water, and finding out you were mates was just the cherry on top. He was convinced he could never love anything or anyone as much as he loved you.

But then you got pregnant. And when you gave birth, one look at the tiny bundle in Madja's arms was enough to prove him wrong. Seeing his mate holding his baby shortly after brought tears to his eyes, and he couldn't keep them from falling when you passed him Iris—named for the rainbow shining in the sky as she came into the world.

It was one of the happiest moments of his life, if not the happiest: looking down at the fragile, beautiful new life he had helped create.

But now, Iris was crying.

“One of those days?” he asked, his arms already outstretched toward his daughter.

“Yeah… sorry to interrupt you,” you answered with a sigh. You passed the baby to him and perched on the armrest of his chair. “But I tried feeding her, playing with her. I sang her all the lullabies I know. Nothing worked. She wants you.”

Azriel smiled down at Iris, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. And to him, to you, she was. You were never interrupting when it was about her.

“You missed me, little rainbow?” he asked softly, a scarred finger trailing down her red, puffy cheeks. His shadows followed suit to swirl around her little face as if they could wipe away her tears.

He'd been scared at first—scared he would somehow taint something so perfect with his scarred hands, hands that had done things he had never been proud of. Though you had reassured him many times, his every concern melted away completely only when Iris had grabbed his pointer finger and innocently put it in her mouth.

It was exactly what she was doing now. Under Azriel's adoring gaze, his daughter wrapped her tiny hands around the finger he had just used to caress her and began contentedly sucking on it, her wails stopping for the moment.

“I don't understand how you do that,” you complained, though your tone was soft, your eyes full of pure love and adoration as you watched your mate and your baby. “She refused her binky when I gave it to her. Every. Single. Time.”

Azriel finally looked up from his child and met your gaze. Amusement sparked in his eyes at your grumble.

“Don't take it personally, love,” he said, curling one of his wings around you and gently nudging you with it. “She said ‘mama’ the other day.”

Catching on to his little wing bump, you slid from the armrest onto his lap, even as you rolled your eyes at him. “She didn't say 'mama’. She was just babbling. She's too young to say words, Az.”

Azriel hummed thoughtfully, but his gaze slid back to Iris. She was still clutching his finger, and even though it had been almost seven months since she was born, watching her was as mesmerizing as the first time.

She had his eyes—hazel with a speck of green—but her hair was the same shade as yours. The two of you had initially spent hours simply gazing at her, whether she was awake or asleep, endlessly debating who she resembled the most. You claimed she had inherited Azriel's nose, he said she had your mouth. The truth was, it was too soon to know for sure, but neither of you cared. She was your rainbow, and she would always be perfect in Azriel's eyes.

The one thing he wasn't sure how to feel about was the lack of wings. After Feyre's tragic experience while giving birth, he had been relieved when Madja announced that your baby wouldn't have them. He never wanted to see you in such pain or risk losing you during childbirth. And yet, he was still Illyrian. Nothing could change that. A part of him longed for the chance to teach his baby daughter to fly, to hear the song of the wind and feel that unparalleled sense of freedom that only came from soaring high in the sky.

“Maybe it's the shadows.”

Your voice dragged him back to reality, and he turned to you with a furrowed brow.

“Why she's always calmer around you,” you clarified, gesturing to the shadows swirling around Iris. You caressed her head, and her eyes tracked back to you as she giggled around Azriel's finger. “They soothe her.”

Azriel smiled, his heart soaring at the sound of his daughter's soft laughter. His wing curled more tightly around you, drawing you closer so he could place a gentle kiss on your temple. “She's just like her mom, isn't she?”

You could only nod, returning his loving smile with one of your own. It was true—his shadows had always been a safe space to you. The first time he had seen you upset, they rushed to you, swirling around you and brushing your cheeks and your neck until you chuckled. From that moment, whether it was anger, sadness, or fatigue, they would leave Azriel's side to cheer you up before he could even take a step in your direction.

Your head came to rest on Azriel’s shoulder and you both watched your daughter's eyes grow heavy, her lids starting to drop as she stubbornly tried to keep them open, her hold on her dad's finger relenting.

“You fall asleep so easily in daddy's arms, don't you, little rainbow?” you whispered as you tenderly booped her cute little nose. “Just like mommy.”

Azriel chuckled, placing his now-free hand on the small of your back to gently nudge you to stand up. “Let's go to bed, love.”

You rose from his lap, and he immediately felt the absence of your warmth against him, but you only stood in front of him with that cute frown of yours—the one that created a small crease between your brows that he always wanted to smooth with his thumb.

Azriel knew exactly what you were thinking.

During the last month of your pregnancy, he had asked Rhys to keep missions away from Velaris to a bare minimum. And after Iris was born, he had stopped taking on any missions that required him to be away for more than two days, because he simply couldn't bear the thought of being separated from you and his baby girl. After centuries, he had finally learned the meaning of the word “delegate”. But sending his spies on jobs he'd usually do himself had led to a high pile of documents and reports on his desk—a pile he mostly tackled after you and Iris had gone to bed.

“I'm done working for tonight,” he reassured you, standing up and rocking Iris in his arms. “It can wait.”

It couldn't, not really. Some of those papers had been sitting on his desk for days, and the Azriel he was until seven months ago would have recoiled at the mere thought of unfinished work. But that was before an eternal rainbow added even more colors to his life than you already had.

You only smiled at him and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Let's go to bed, then,” you repeated before turning to walk out.

Azriel followed you, his baby’s eyes fluttering open at the movement and darting around as he walked down the pastel-blue hallway. She was always so curious, even when tired.

Not wanting to risk Iris deciding she’d rather stay awake and explore than sleep, Azriel began to hum her favorite lullaby. You glanced over your shoulder at the sound of his deep voice resonating off the walls, a soft smile on your lips as you watched the shadows gently sway to the melody.

He met your gaze when you stopped in front of Iris’s room, where you had painted the walls a light shade of pink while Azriel assembled the cream-colored furniture. He shook his head and gestured for you to keep walking, never interrupting his soft singing as Iris’s eyes fluttered closed once more. You raised an eyebrow but continued toward your bedroom at the end of the hallway.

You had recently started getting Iris used to sleeping in her own room instead of yours, with both doors left open for the rare times she still woke up at night. But tonight, Azriel wanted to hold both his girls in his arms.

Iris was fast asleep by the time Azriel gently placed her in the center of your large bed, careful not to wake her up. She rolled onto her tummy and let out a content sigh that had you both staring in awe.

You turned to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. “You didn't want her to sleep alone?” you murmured, your tone amused.

“I couldn't,” he answered with a smile, his fingers tangling in your silky hair. “She missed me, you said it yourself.”

You chuckled, leaning up to peck him on the lips.

Azriel didn't let you pull away.

It felt like a lifetime had passed since he last had some alone time with you. If it wasn't Iris needing attention and care, it was his duties as spymaster keeping him so busy that you had resorted to dragging your favorite armchair in his study, where you would curl up with a book during your daughter's nap time. Sitting in comfortable silence as you each focused on your own tasks was better than being apart.

He felt you relax, melting against his body as he deepened the kiss, and only then did he pull back to rest his forehead against yours.

“And I missed you,” he whispered. Your cheeks were warm under his touch and he took a moment to just breathe in your familiar, soothing scent.

“Then you should have let Iris sleep in her crib, my love,” you said with a glance at your daughter. A mischievous gleam entered your eyes when they settled on him again. “Because I really miss you too.”

Azriel's soft laugh echoed in the room, and he kissed the top of your head. “Tomorrow,” he promised. He could make those reports wait a bit longer.

You smirked, stealing one last kiss before stepping back to peel off your clothes. He took a moment to admire you—your smooth skin, the dip of your hips, the soft curve of your stomach that remained from childbirth—but he quickly undressed as well, and soon you were both in bed, with Iris nestled between you.

Azriel placed a broad hand on her back to draw her a bit closer, and his wing draped over you as you scooted over, enveloping the three of you in a warm, dark cocoon, the silence interrupted only by your daughter’s soft snoring.

He felt you move in the dark and guessed you had just kissed Iris when you murmured, “Goodnight, my rainbow. Even though you didn't let me sing you lullabies.”

Azriel didn't need to see your face to know you had a loving look in your eyes and a playful smile on your lips.

“Of course she prefers my lullabies,” he teased, brushing his thumb over Iris's back. “She's her daddy's girl.”

For a moment, he was tempted to fold back his wing and let the moonlight caress your face, just to catch your cute pout as you said, “I used to be your girl.”

“You still are, love. You're both my girls,” he assured you, letting his wing lower over you like a second blanket. “You're my family. There's nothing I love more than you and Iris.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice now stripped of all playfulness. Only pure, undiluted sincerity remained, warming his heart. “Both of you.”

Silence fell again, and it wasn't long before your breathing evened out as you drifted into sleep. But Azriel stayed awake a while longer, listening to the steady rhythm of his mate's soft sighs and his daughter's occasional snorts.

His own little family—everything he had ever wanted, more than he had ever dared to hope for.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @andreperez11

[ponderingmoonlight]

Satoru Gojo purposely keeping the scar you gave him instead of using reversed technique

Pairing: husband! Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: When his skin gets busted by your sheer excitement, it doesn't feel right to Satoru to use his reversed technique and simply heal.

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, Yuji's "death" scnene in season 1, blood lol

Thank you dear anon for aggressively reminding me that it's canon for Gojo to not have any scars, it really helped me cooking up that fic! 🤍

Every step feels like hell, the only thing that keeps you from collapsing onto the floor being the reassuring hand of your husband on your shoulder.

This can’t be true, it’s just impossible. Yuji Itadori was a member of Jujutsu High for a few weeks, just started to get to know this world better. This was supposed to be an easy mission, the three of them should have made it out alive with ease. But apparently, Sukuna decided to show up. And apart from injuring Megumi, he violently took Yuji’s life by ripping his heart out. A heart made of pure gold, a heart so precious that you couldn’t help but care for that boy the minute you saw him.

But now he’s dead.

Your hands start shaking immediately the minute you step into this cursed room you visited far too often, gazing at Yuji’s body covered by a cloak. This isn’t a bad dream. No, the blood covering the white cloak tells you more than urgently that Yuji Itadori isn’t there anymore.

“Please tell me that there’s a chance he’ll come back”, you mutter.

Oh, how much both Shoko and Satoru hate to see you like that. It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High how deeply you care about your students, loving them like your own children. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a student die in front of your eyes. In times like these, jujutsu sorcerers pass away like flies. But Satoru knows what you’ve seen in Yuji, that he somehow reflected parts of yourself. And still, you weren’t able to protect that boy, both Satoru and you coming too late to rescue him.

“I really wish I could, but he shows no signs of life. I’ll move on to autopsy now. If you want to say goodbye…Maybe do it now and leave afterwards.”

Satoru wraps his arms around you just in time before you slide onto the ground, holding you tightly against his chest.

“This is not fair”, you breathe out, head still not able to accept Yuji’s farewell.

He was so young, so full of life. He doesn’t deserve to die, he still had so much ahead of him. There needs to be something you are able to do. Aren’t Satoru or Shoko able to use their cursed technique?

“He didn’t show any signs of life for hours by now, (y/n). Not even Shoko or me are able to bring him back to life. I’m so sorry”, he mumbles against your ear out of nowhere.

So this is really how it ended? With Yuji getting killed by none other than Sukuna himself? Like in trance, your wobbly legs carry you to the autopsy table his lifeless body lays on. You want to stretch out your arm, want to look at that precious boy one last time before Shoko does her job.

But you can’t.

“I can’t look at him”, you blurt out.

With a swift motion, you turn around and burry your face against your husband’s chest.

“It’s okay babe, just look at me, okay? You don’t have to do this.”

Satoru’s arms keep you from losing yourself completely, soak up your falling tears while his head rests against yours. Oh Yuji, you’ll never be forgotten. All the laughter’s both of you shared, his potential, how he always cared about others. You will think about him every time the sun starts to rise, when new students get greeted, when you kill another curse-

“Hey, what’s up? Huh, what are both of you doing here, Gojo-sensei?”

This voice…

That was Yuji Itadori.

Out of instinct you turn around rapidly, not even noticing how the back of your head crushes into Satoru’s forehead with full force. He sees starts, blood taking his sight in an instant while his mind isn’t even able to comprehend it was Yuji who just spoke.

“Yuji! Are you okay? Are you hurt? You’re back!”, you babble out, embracing the boy in a tight hug.

“To be honest I don’t even know what happened last and I’m pretty hungry…Oh, you’re bleeding Gojo-sensei!”

You’re…bleeding? You turn around in confusion, following Yuji’s eyes.

“OMG SATORU!”, you cry out, the sight of your husband covered in his own blood shocking you to your core.

When did that happened…Was it…you?

“I guess you were so happy to see Itadori that you’ve forgot about me standing behind you”, he mutters amused.

“Babe I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so carried away and-“

“Don’t worry about me. Reversed technique, remember? I’ll be whole in seconds. Just look after Yuji, I love you.”

You let out the breath you were holding, the bright smile forming on your gorgeous face making Satoru forget the world around him for a moment. You are so caring, so passionate. And you are his wife.

“I’m a lucky man”, he mutters to himself while pressing the tissue Shoko handed him against his wound.

There you sit, gently caressing Yuji’s cheeks and asking him over and over if he’s okay.

“You really are. This isn’t a problem for you, right?”, Shoko questions with one glance at the laceration on his forehead.

The shocked look on your face replays itself over and over in his mind, lets a chuckle escape his lips. With the help but his reversed technique, it would be way too easy to get rid of that minor wound. Within seconds, there wouldn’t even be a scar left, just his flawless skin. But…it was you who did this to him out of sheer excitement. It sure would be nice to look into the mirror and get reminded of you daily, right?

“Oh, I might as well keep that”, he replies with a sly grin.

- a few weeks later -

You sit on the edge of the couch, desperately waiting for that time of the day. Even after being married to that force of a man for 4 years now, you find yourself getting all excited when he announces that he’s going to shower. Because going to shower means that he’ll come out just wearing boxers with his body still a little wet and his hair sticking to his face in that delicate way.

“Still waiting for me, huh? It’s not like you can see me naked every time you want, babe”, he finally purrs.

Your heart skips a beat. This man…How is it even allowed to look so breathtakingly gorgeous? The way a single droplet of water runs down his cheek, how he gently strokes his damp hair back.

Wait. You squint your eyes a little harder. What is that on his forehead?

“What do you have there?”, you question, rubbing your own hand against the ride side of your forehead.

This almost looks like a scar. But Satoru shouldn’t have scars. After all, he’s able to use reversed technique, healing himself in the matter of seconds. Is it just dirt? No, that definitely looks like scar tissue.

“Oh, it’s nothing”, he immediately tries to brush you off, pulling his hair back into his face.

“No way Romeo, come back here right now”, you demand.

With a swift motion you lift yourself off the couch and hunt after him.

“Is that a scar?”

“It might be…”

“Why didn’t you just heal it? Show it to me!”

When you finally catch him, you slick his hair back again. Only to be greeted what indeed looks like a middle-sized scar. But why and how did this happen, why didn’t he just heal like he usually does?

“You really don’t know where this came from?”, he challenges you.

You blink a few times. What the hell is your husband talking about?

“Why would I know where this came from?”

“Because it was you, (y/n)?”, he playfully bites back.

You? Your mind races, searching for a single moment you ever hurt your husband. You were never really able to even hurt him, no matter how berserk you went in training. When was the last time you even wounded him? But wait, there was this one time you made him bleed, that one time when…

“This was when Yuji woke up-“

“EXACTLY!”, Satoru cries out and gives you a round of applause.

“But why did you keep it? You said you’d be able to heal it…”

“Because I didn’t want to. This scar right here”

Gently, he takes your hand in his and traces the soft scar with your fingertips.

“will always remind me of what a wonderful human being you are.”

Oh. Your eyes turn glossy in an instant, staring up at your loving husband while he gifts you with the most breath-taking smile you’ve ever seen.

“Satoru”, you breathe out.

There is no time to waste. You wrap your longing arms around his tall frame tightly, aiming to never let him go again.

“Every time I look into the mirror, I think about my wonderful wife”, he mutters into your hair.

“Y’know, you could just take a picture of me or something-“

“No. I would rather just keep that scar of my wonderful wife smacking me over a student.”

You hit him playfully over his comment, a giggle escaping your precious lips.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that…”

“I’ll always tell the story like this.”

Tags: @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp@localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo

Dividers by @saradika 🤍

[keerysfreckles]

coming of age — MV1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!driver!reader

summary: in which a silly bet between the two redbull drivers becomes a reality when y/n wins the first race of the 2024 season.

warnings: not proofread, sorry for spelling mistakes!!

a/n: LET ME COOK ‼️‼️

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

ever since y/n l/n joined f1 in 2019, joining her best friends, lando norris, alex albon and george russell, her life flipped upside down.

she's been in four teams since her debut. she started in mclaren with lando in 2019, then got told the news carlos sainz would be taking her seat in 2020.

she then got moved to williams, which proved she deserved to be in a better car. she excelled as best she could with what she was given, securing the 10th spot in the drivers championship. but she wanted more.

so for the next two years y/n joined ferrari, alongside one of her formula one idols, charles leclerc. both ferrari drivers proved they earned their spots every year, until y/n got into a crash during an australian free practice. to put it lightly, she was forced to use crutches for the rest of the 2022 season. therefore at the end of 2022, she was told carlos would replace her for the upcoming years.

january 2023 rolls around, and y/n still didn't have a seat. however, a certain redbull driver had his eyes on her ever since she joined, watching as she made her way up the fornula one ladder. climbing each step in order to get to the podium, but not a win. the driver believed if she worked at redbull, she'd get that long awaited win.

so max verstappen had a plan. he spent the whole week trying his best to convince christian horner to take y/n in for the 2023 season. they needed a second driver anyway, and needed to announce it as soon as possible.

after days of constantly bothering the team principal, it was finally announced to the world that y/n would be joining redbull under a multi-year contract.

to say y/n excelled in redbull the past year would be an understatement. y/n was proudly on the podium nineteen out of the twenty-three races held. so close to the win, but always settling for second and third place.

y/n was done settling. she knew 2024 was going to be her year, and the pre season training was already going more than smoothly. both her and max were the fastest on track every day, with merely seconds between them.

from her first day in the redbull car, y/n and max had a bet going on; if y/n could win whatever race they were participating in that weekend, she'd have to kiss max. it started out as a small joke, but y/n couldn't help but wonder what max's lips would feel like on hers. would it be a quick kiss? or something more? all questions that wouldn't be answered until she won, and she was trying to do that here in bahrain.

it was a redbull front row, making the start of the race easy for both drivers. both pit stops went by smoothly, and their strategies were working wonders.

with only five laps to go, her race engineer spoke into her ear pieces.

"pace is still good, max is in front with 1.3 second gap," john spoke calmly, watching through the screens from the pit wall.

y/n replies shortly, before focusing back on the task at hand. every single race she's wanted to beat max, but this time felt much more real. maybe there was more adrenaline from the crowd, or maybe the car was going faster this year. whatever it was, she wouldn't know.

"gap .9 now, drs is enabled."

y/n pressed a button in response, turning on her drs as she passed down the straight. the muffled screams from the outside world seemed to get louder and louder as she got closer to the rear of max's car.

if she blinked, she would've missed the moment she finally over took her teammate. for a second, even she was confused.

"did we just pass max?" she asked john, her voice shaking slightly.

john chuckles into the microphone, "you did my dear. only two laps to go now, keep the pace."

y/n did as instructed. the world around her went quiet again as she saw the checkered flag, only a few feet away from her.

"y/n l/n wins her very first formula one grand prix! she wins in bahrain, making it a redbull 1-2 this evening!"

y/n instantly screams into her helmet, hearing the laughs and shouts from the pit wall and redbull crew coming out of the garage.

she slowed down for a cool down lap, waving and pumping her fist as she drove by the grand stands. max drove besider her now, giving her a thumbs up. he could practically hear the girls laughter and cheers from his own car.

y/n wasn't sure when the tears started to flow, but she kept wiping her face after taking her helmet off. as soon as she weighed in, she was running to the redbull crew waiting for her behind the barricades.

she yelled before being lifted into the air by the sea of navy blue. y/n was on cloud nine as she was being set back down onto the ground.

christian was waiting just outside the barricade, with his arms wide open.

"you stinker! i knew this day would come," he congratulates the girl, enveloping her in a warm hug.

the smile never leaves her face as the drivers come to congratulate her. max gives her a hug first, and y/n can't tell if he kissed her temple, or if she was just imagining it with all the adrenaline coursing through her.

lando was next, considering he got third, he was already waiting for her once he parked his car. he spun her off the ground, when the other 2019 rookies came running up to the pair.

a cameraman patted lando on the shoulder, gesturing for them to lift y/n up. he complied, as the three boys somehow lifted y/n onto their shoulders, posing as the shutters of the camera went off.

carlos and charles congratulated her next, both telling her how proud they were of her.

finally being able to sit in the middle seat in the cool down room felt unreal for y/n. putting on the winner's hat was more than enough, but sitting in between lando and max sealed the deal.

lando got to the podium first, with the mclaren crew cheering him on from the ground.

max was next, still with a big smile on his face, despite not winning the race.

finally y/n emerged from around the corner. y/n's heart swelled as the crowd below her cheered louder than anyone has ever heard it before. lando and max both held out their hands for high fives as she stood on the top of the podium.

she couldn't control the smile on her face as she recieved your first medal, and first formula one trophy. as anyone else wouldve done, she held the trophy low to the ground as the crowd below started to roar. once she lifted it above her head the crowd went wild once again.

she watched proudly as max and lando were handed their trophies, lifting them above their heads as well.

y/n basked in the bahrain sunset as the national anthem of her country played through the speakers. shortly after the austrian anthem played, while both her and max looked down to their team in awe. neither of them would be where they are today without them.

not even a second passes after the austrian anthem is over, and max and lando are ambusing y/n with their champagne. she laughs and screams as the cold alcohol sprays down her racing suit. she tries her best to spray max and lando, but can't help but continue wiping her eyes as a mix of tears and champagne fall down her cheeks.

as y/n's still wiping her eyes and the champagne in the bottles is almost empty, max takes her chin softly in his hand. she looks up at him, her heart starting to race again once she realized what her win means in terms of the silly bet the two drivers have.

y/n would've gladly payed a thousand dollars to see the look on everyone's face when max pulled her lips to his. still with her champagne bottle in one hand, she grabs onto max's bicep. making her realize he's really here and kissing her, and to keep her on her feet.

lando was the most caught off gaurd. he turned just in time after leaning down to grab his trophy. his eyes went wide as he watched the two redbu drivers.

the redbull crew all cheered, all silently hoping this moment would happen. they all knew about the longing glances between drivers, and how they got along so quickly when y/n first joined the team.

"finally a race winner," max mumbles against the top of y/n's head, kissing her hair. he wraps his arm around her as the two begin to walk out of the champagne covered platform. she waits for lando, pausing her and max's movements. once lando's by her side, she walks with both of them. her smile still never leaves.

after getting a group picture and video with the redbull crew, and probably taking a million pictures to post on the teams social media platforms, y/n and max go to their drivers rooms.

y/n facetimes her parents quickly, knowing how early in the morning it is for them.

finally changing into dry and much more comfortable clothes, a knock interrupts her thoughts.

"race winner looks good on you," max smiles after closing the door behind him.

y/n can't help but laugh, her smile growing once again.

"i can't believe it finally happened," she shakes her head. max sits on her sofa, watching as she packs her backpack.

"we all knew it would happen, it was just a matter of when," max states, causing a small blush to adorn y/n's cheeks.

"i hope you know i'm more than proud of you," max admits, fiddling with his fingers in his lap.

y/n zips her bag, not looking at the dutchman next to her, "yeah, the whole team seemed so." she laughs again at the thought of how happy the redbull garage was for the girl.

max chuckles, "no y/n, i'm saying i'm more than proud of you." he looks up at her now, meeting her eyes.

"thank you max," she smiles again.

before he can contemplate his own thoughts any further, he stands to walk out of the room. he rubs his hand on y/n's shoulder before exiting, "i'll be right out, so we can walk out together, yeah?"

y/n's lucky to catch max's attention just as his hand grabs the door handle.

"i'm surprised you stayed with your word, and kissed me today," y/n turns to face max.

he turns as well, still leaving a fair amount of space between the two of them.

he shrugs and y/n doesn't miss the slight blush on his cheeks, "well yeah, a bet's a bet. no one can back out of one."

y/n takes a few steps forward. the confidence could've been from the dying adrenaline, but whatever it was from, she was going to use it.

"so if it weren't for the bet, you wouldn't have kissed me?"

max chuckles, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. a stutter becoming more prominent between every word, "no, no i mean if it were a right time i would've kissed you. i just wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable, yeah?"

he continues stumbling over his words, causing the girl in front of him to giggle. his heart bursts at the sound.

"are you just going to stand there while i make a fool out of myself?" he asks, out of breath from rambling. his hands fall to his sides.

"i could," y/n states, watching max's smile falter slightly. "or i could just kiss you."

before max could get a proper response out, y/n leans up to press her lips against his for the second time that night. his hands instantly find their way to her waist, as hers hold both sides of his face.

"so if i won a race earlier, would i still have gotten a kiss?" y/n asks, just centimeters away from max's lips.

"screw just a kiss, we would've been a couple a whole lot sooner."

max cuts off y/n's giggle with another kiss.

the second kiss of many between the drivers.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Hey, how are you?] Simon Riley*F!Reader

Ten years ago, Simon lost you due to his mistake, and he meets you again after these years of regret.

Hurt and comfort, Happy Ending

“Are you married?”

He always be asked when others see the ring on his finger.

“No.” He answers while taking another sip of his wine, letting the person realize it’s a topic they don’t have the authority to dig in.

He still remembers the vow he chanted as he put the ring on your finger.

The memory is as clear as the day you left the house, and he never saw you again.

It’s his fault, you didn’t shed many tears when he yelled at you, saying that you will never be able to free him from his nightmares, who do you think you are? a fucking philanthropist?

He knew he screwed up everything the moment his taunt escape his mouth.

No, No. I didn’t mean to say that, I need you, I love you, please don’t leave me.

He watched you lower your head, trying in vain to hide your sadness, but your heart was already shattered into pieces, by him, the man who promised to protect you by any means.

I’m sorry.

The words stuck in his throat when he looked at you stepping out the threshold with your belongings.

Please stay.

The greedy wish was buried inside his heart when you stopped for a second. “Bye, Simon. Take care.” you whispered, and disappeared into the aisle.

Ten years, he’s still unable to move on.

He brainwashes himself repeatedly, she will have a better life without you.

Yet he still opens his phone every time he finishes his therapy sessions, looks at your number, and just stares at the screen for minutes.

His thumb lingers on the “call” button but never dares to press it.

Hey, are you doing alright? I’m sorry, I want you back. I went to therapy after that day. I’m not the same person caged in his past anymore.

I miss you so much.

but how selfish he is if he interrupts your life now? Such a nice person like you deserves someone to cherish you nicely, and treasure you with their whole heart.

That’s why he now stands afar from you, watching you behind the veil of autumn’s breeze.

You’re still stunning, time doesn’t deprive your beauty even a bit.

He gazes at you for a long while, and when you turn around and spot him, it’s obvious that you’re in shock and come to a halt.

The world keeps moving, but the time seems frozen between you two, as you both set eyes on each other and never dart.

You head towards him as he starts hesitating to take the first move.

“Hey.” You look at him with a shallow grin on your face.

“Hey.” He mumbles.

The silence fills the air, but no awkwardness, he’s just too indulged in your presence, which he has been dreaming of for years.

Sorry for that day. How are you doing now? Have you married? Have a partner?...

He has too many things he wants to ask, but his thoughts are like matted wool, until his eyes land on the ring on your finger.

“You’re marrie—“ He questions without a second thought, but the words get cut off instantly due to his realization.

because the ring is paired with the one on his finger right now.

It’s not until you chuckle that he’s back to reality.

“Yes, I’m married, about ten years ago? to an idiot man.”

“Why did you marry him? he’s a bloody dork.”

“Good question. or maybe that’s the reason why I married him.” Shrugging, you then meet his gaze with a smile “How about you? Are you married?”

“Yeah, ten years ago, to a woman that’s too precious for me, so I lost her.”

“If you meet her again, what do you want to tell her?”

“I’ve improved. I’ve reached for help and now I’m not the same man anymore.”

“Anything else you want to say?”

“I miss her every single day, and I hope I can have her in my arms again.”

“Well, I don’t know about her.” you step closer to him. “But I’m sure she will love to have some tea with you as her first compensation from you, what do you think?”

He blinks at the hand you reach out at him, and slowly, he takes it into his palms, that’s befitting to drive away the chill.

Your hand fits well in his, like it’s made for him to serve it with all his warmth, and he’s sure that he will never let go of it again.

“My pleasure.”

a/n: lemme give Simon a fucking punch/j

[eddiemunsonw]

Gossip in town

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve love a good gossip. There's some joy in talking about other people's misery to distract from yourself from your own miserable dating life, right? Besides, that's what friends do. Right? 'Cause that's what you are. Friends.

CW/Disclaimer: Uhhhh some s m u t. Other than that just romance, banter, cute shit. Maybe the cute shit deserves a warning too.

Author's note: We love to say that Steve enjoys to gossip, so I figured I'd drabble something out. Turned a little longer than planned!

Words: 4983

“You need to make him stop coming in here, he’s ruining our brand!”

As you heard Romaine, your colleague, complain, a smile plays on your lips. That could only mean one person.

Steve.

Romaine glared at him from behind the table she was folding clothes at and he raised his brow with little interest. His sailor outfit was a stark contrast to the high-end fashion you sold in the store you worked at and you thought it was the funniest thing ever. The first week, Steve had been too embarrassed to even leave the ice cream parlor. By now, he couldn’t give two fucks. And knowing Romaine hated it only made him come by twice as often.

“Y/N, Y/N!”

His impatient calls made you giggle and you revealed yourself from around the corner to put yourself into his field of vision. He gave a nod of recognition and then started to approach you with big steps.

“I’m taking my break,” Romaine announced, in an attempt to keep you from going anywhere. One person always needed to be in the store, and it was just you two that day. Steve knew about this rule by now, so he rolled his eyes, grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the fitting rooms.

“Still technically in the store,” he mumbled, flashing you a grin as he took note that none of the fitting rooms were being used. With one smooth move, he pulled back a curtain, nudged you inside, followed and closed the curtain again behind him. He was a little out of breath, either from excitement or because he fucking jogged to your side of the mall. Must have been a sight for sore eyes.

“You were fucking right,” he hissed, not wasting a second as he spilled the tea. You covered your mouth to prevent a gasp and he pulled your hand away as he nodded. He needed not to tell you what, or who it was about. It had been the main topic of your latest gossip, so it was obvious he was talking about Ben Swimmer, one of his old classmates. Steve rested his palm flat on the wall behind you, kind of locking you into the corner of the fitting room.

“Yes, yes keep that mouth open, cause there’s more.”

His excitement was mixed with disgust, given by his expression. His fingers tapped a rhythm on the wall. You swallowed. Not sure if that had to do with the story at all, as you looked up at him.

“No… What is it?!” you asked impatiently. Steve smirked, loving to keep you on edge, and leaned a little closer because that’s what you do when you gossip.

“He wasn’t just cheating on Tessa with Vivian, but also with Brenda…”

“No…” you whispered, giving him a look of disbelief, mouth in fact still agape. Steve cocked his hip to the other side and nodded several times in a quick motion.

“Oh yes. He came into Scoops with her just now, in broad fucking daylight. And guess who also popped up at the mall?”

“Tessa. Of fucking course.”

Steve nodded.

“Tessa. So they’re sitting there eating their ice cream with two spoons, all gooey and sickeningly adorable if he hadn’t been a dick… when Ben sees Tessa, but she hasn’t seen him yet. So I’m watching, right, and suddenly Ben looks at me and tells me to let him go out the back with Brenda.”

“Oh now he wants to talk to you. Dick.”

Steve clapped his thigh with his free hand and made a gesture.

“Right?! So I said that was against company policy and that I unfortunately couldn’t help him. And then I walked forward and accidentally knocked a chair over,” he grinned as he replayed it in his head, “gathered a bit of attention, so weird,” his eyes widened as he spoke, “Tessa’s attention too. You should’ve seen it. I wish you could’ve seen it.”

His sigh filled the small space as he leaned his head back against the thin wall of the fitting room. He knitted his brows together and dropped his hand from the wall to your shoulder, closing his eyes momentarily as he let his brain catch up with his mouth. He seemed a little lost in thought, with his hand gently massaging your shoulder and his chin tipped up towards the ceiling. He didn’t move his head as he looked down at you and you wondered if he had any idea what he looked like right now. Somehow all the adorable-ness his outfit gave him was taken away and replaced for something else by just that one glance along the bridge of his nose.

“Was she mad?” you asked.

“Oh, she was seething. Shouted all sorts of shit at him. I had a lot of cleaning to do after she threw her milkshake in his face, but it was worth it. According to Ben I’m dead by the way. So now you know who to name as a prime suspect, should I ever disappear.”

“He better not.”

Steve shrugged.

“Would be worth it.”

—

The bell above the door of Family Video clanged as you rushed in. Robin lifted her head but was clearly still counting some tapes in her head as she gave you a vague greeting and immediately focused back on her task at hand. Steve on the other hand, immediately poked his head above an aisle and approached you even before you could reach the counter.

“Jake’s gonna ask Trisha to marry him after graduation.”

You gasped and immediately punched his chest, causing him to “oomph” and giving you a look of disbelief. Before he could ask why you punched him, you gave him the answer.

“I came all the way here to tell you that! How’d you even find out?!”

Steve grinned and grabbed the hand you punched him with as he noticed you were subconsciously rubbing your fingers over your knuckles.

“Overheard Brenda and Kate talk about it here earlier,” he said with a nod towards the romcom aisle.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “for once I thought I would have something good to tell you…”

Your pout deepened as you crossed your arms, shaking off his touch. Steve simply replaced it by putting his hand on top of your folded arms, his fingers walking a path from your elbow towards your wrist.

“You did! I just knew it already,” Steve said with a chuckle. He watched you pout for a little longer as his fingers played with the hair tie on your wrist absentmindedly. You were too focused to keep up the play that you didn’t notice his hesitation.

“Hey, wanna watch a movie tonight?”

Just then, as if on cue, Robin poked her head above the horror aisle.

“Yes!”

Steve glanced backwards and smiled softly at Robin, though as he nodded his expression looked a little off. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek until he saw you nod and released some of the tension he was subconsciously holding.

“Yeah let’s. Which movie?”

Steve shrugged. He hadn’t really thought of that. By now he had watched too many to count and there were only so many times you could watch the same movie in a week. He picked up the hair tie between his fingers and let it snap back on your wrist as he bit back a smile. You glared at him playfully, looking for something you could do in return. For a moment, he watched you in stunned silence as you brought your hand up to his neck, trailing your fingers through until you reached the back and yanked at it. Steve gasped and grabbed your hand, twisting you around until he had both your hands behind your back, his chin tucked into your shoulder.

“Caught you.”

As you relaxed in his arms, his breath tickled your neck. Somehow, neither of you had noticed Robin rounding the aisle and as she stopped in front of you, an impatient huff left her lips.

“Well? What movie, guys?” Steve froze around you for a moment and you slowly felt his grip loosening until he stepped aside to check out some of the movies they had.

“Uh…”

You held onto your own arms, realizing your cheeks were heating up and you took a quick few steps towards the door.

“I’ll let it be a surprise, see you tonight! Your place, I assume?” you asked Steve without looking at him.

“Yeah, sure.”

You left and Steve busied himself browsing through the movies with his fingers without remembering any of them.

“You seemed disappointed when I joined movie night.”

Steve gave her a harmless glare.

“Huh? No I wasn’t.”

Robin gave him an empathic smile.

“If you say so.”

Steve shook his head with a laugh.

“We’re just friends, Rob. It’s not like that.”

—

3 years later

It was a Saturday night and you sat on the couch in Steve’s apartment, where you spent so much time you should honestly start paying rent. Not to mention all the products that you had in his bathroom, and the spare set of clothes in his closet. It was a little much, but your home was cramped, and it had been hard to find a place of your own that you could actually afford.

Steve had found a part time job as a basketball coach and filled the rest of his time either with you, Robin, the kids or his failed dates.

But mostly you.

“Do we really have to watch this romantic piece of bullshit?” Steve groaned, flipping over the tape in his hand. It looked small when he held it, somehow.

“Hey now,” you shushed him, “just because Jillian didn’t let you get into her pants doesn’t mean romance is a no go now. Besides, it’s my day to pick.”

You got up to put the tape in and when you sat back, his arm was already waiting for you. His blunt fingernails teased your shoulder as you settled against him.

“She would’ve let me, I was so sure of it. But after she came back from the bathroom she suddenly acted so fucking weird…” Steve mumbled as he thought back on it.

“Maybe she suddenly got her period?” you opted. That surely was something that could make you want to flee out of nowhere. Steve rolled his eyes.

“So? There are pads and tampons,” Steve sighed. They were yours, or so Steve had said when you had asked why there were pads and tampons in a little basket in his bathroom. So you didn’t have to bring your own all the time, had been his reasoning. It was sweet.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know.” “Or maybe she thought you had a girlfriend you were cheating on,” you offered gently. Steve groaned and leaned his head all the way back on the headrest.

“Robin said the same. But if I had had a female roommate no one would bat an eye, so what’s the big deal you’ve got some of your stuff in here?”

“Well, because you don’t have a roommate, I guess?” you suggested with a shrug. His fingers lay flat on your shoulder now, giving it a light squeeze on occasion as he was thinking.

“Whatever. I don’t want a girl that can’t communicate anyway. Like, remember that whole ordeal with Nigel and Yessica? All that drama when it could’ve been solved if they had just asked each other rather than leaving it up to the town’s gossip?”

“Yeah, well… at least it gives us something to discuss.”

Steve nodded, but it seemed that he already was too lost in his own thoughts.

“I want someone who’s straight forward. Honest but kind. Funny. Warm. Also witty, sarcastic… just someone I can spend all day with without being bored. Where I can fully be myself without worrying about anything,” Steve mumbled.

“They’re out there, Steve, I’m sure of it.”

He glanced at you, face a little too close for comfort.

“What about you, then? When was the last time you dated?”

“Uh… Rick.”

Steve scowled.

“Rick.”

“He was fine.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Oh please. If you told me he had bodies buried in his garden I’d believe you.”

This time you rolled your eyes, sitting up a little so he had to remove his arm.

“Yeah, of course you would, because you hated him for no fucking reason.”

Steve’s lips thinned a little but he gave you your space. Leaned back a little, though he kept his thigh against yours.

“I had many valid reasons. For one: He sucks.”

You laughed dryly and shook your head.

“That’s an opinion, not a reason. You basically chased him away.”

“For the better! You know I’m right.”

“If it were up to you, none of the guys are a good fit for me.”

Steve watched as you got up from the couch to grab a beer and wordlessly asked for one too. You sat down on the far end of the couch, away from Steve. He took a sip without removing his gaze from you and lifted one leg on the couch so he could turn to face you.

“Because they’re not.”

“So it’s me.”

Steve frowned and shook his head. Somehow he had shifted closer on the couch without you noticing. His knee touched your thigh.

“What? No. It’s all of them.”

“My standards are just too high, I guess.”

Steve shook his head, his hand finding your knee.

“Shut up, they’re not. You deserve someone who actually appreciates you. All of you.”

A silent implication there, considering he knew all about your dating life. After Rick, you hadn’t even bothered. You dated them only to numb the pain of listening to Steve’s date stories. And since for some reason Robin refused to listen to them, you were the designated person to tell.

Thanks, Robin.

“Yeah, well, so do you.”

He gazed into your eyes, his face so much closer than you had anticipated when his finger lifted your chin gently.

“I appreciate all of you,” he said softly. You watched him silently as you connected the dots of his earlier spoken words to his current ones. His thumb caressed your cheek as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“You’re… we’re friends,” you said softly, too scared to trust what his words implied.

“Can’t we be more?” Steve asked, his voice soft as silk.

“Can we?” you whispered.

Steve nodded, his gaze dropping to your lips as he leaned in closer.

“Yeah.”

He cupped your jaw a little stronger as he kissed you, as if he was scared you’d slip from his fingers the moment his lips brushed yours. You leaned forward, his hand resting on his chest. He let out a sweet sound when your fingers happened to brush his nipple and you used that leverage to swing your leg over his lap. His hands found your waist easily as he teared away his lips from yours to explore your neck.

“Ah, Steve,” you whispered, encouraging him to continue. You let your hands roam over his chest until that wasn’t enough and you let them dip under the hem of his shirt. He broke his attack on your neck to look at you hungrily as he lifted his arms above his head to take off his shirt, followed by a hesitant brush of his fingers along yours. With a nod, you gave him the permission to take it off and the look of appreciation at the sight made you feel warm inside. His hands found your waist again as he buried his face in your chest, licking the crevice of your boobs all the way up to your neck.

You felt how hard he was when you shifted your lips and a groan left him.

“Steve… when you said, more, what did you mean?” you asked softly.

Steve leaned back to look at you, eyes searching your face with urgency.

“I— Like, everything? Sorry— Did I… is it too much? Am I too much?” he rambled, a sudden nervosity taking over his system as his hands dropped from your body.

“No! No, Steve, you’re never too much, silly,” you told him quickly, smoothing out the frown in his forehead with your thumb. “I just wanted to make sure this isn’t like a… friends with benefits thing, for you,” you grunted out, cheeks heating up.

Steve let out a relieved sigh and his hands found your waist again, gently digging into your pliant skin.

“I’ve been your friend with benefits for all I can remember. Your kindness, sarcasm, wit, humor, honesty… all of that and more I have benefitted from for the longest time. I just… I’d want, like, to be your boyfriend with benefits. To have it all but to have all of you as well. Want you to be mine, Y/N. Mine only,” he told you sincerely. His eyes slowly turned a little mischievous as your smile relaxed and he moved his hands up to squeeze your boobs as he bit down on his bottom lip with a smile.

“And if that means I also get to, kiss you and stuff, all the better,” he said with a cheeky grin.

“And stuff, huh?” you mumbled affectionately, your thumbs finding his nipples to rub slow circles. Steve’s eyes rolled back and he nodded as he bit back a groan.

“Uh-huh,” he sighed, “god, keep doing that.” A beat. “Please.”

You smirked and rolled your hips slowly against his.

“So polite,” you murmured as your lips found his neck.

“I - ah - would like to say I was raised that way but I guess I’ve just always had it in me,” he said with a chuckle while his hands toyed with the sweatpants resting on your hips still. You laughed softly and hummed in agreement.

“It’s a little too hot for these sweats, don’t you agree?” he asked then, a finger teasing along the waistband.

“Yours too.”

“Can I keep my socks on?”

You leaned back and gave him a glare as he burst out laughing.

“See?! Rick was not fine at all.”

“Shut up. What about Layla with her “call them mommy milkers” spiel?”

Steve bit his lip with a smile.

“That never happened, actually. Tried to make you jealous and failed.”

“You thought that would make me jealous? It just made me reconsider my crush on you.”

“Ouch?”

“Just not big on the whole mommy thing.”

“Yeah, well, me neither.”

Steve kissed your collar bone and let his hands slide down your back to grab two handfuls of your ass. You let out a sweet noise, edging him on.

“Back to point one…”

“Back to Rick with his Star Wars socks during sex…”

He pushed you against him, rolling his hips just in time. Not even Rick with his socks on could ruin this feeling for you. Steve moaned softly into your neck as he found just the right angle for the best amount of friction.

“He came within a minute.”

“Assumed as much. Could tell you were lying your tits off when you said it was somewhere between two and five minutes. As if anyone times that.”

“You said you could last fifteen.”

“Cause I can!”

“So you timed it,” you told him dryly.

Steve rolled his eyes and pushed down your sweats, making you get up to take them off so he could do the same.

“I can last as long as you need,” he promised you, “and look, my socks are off.”

“Still wearing too much clothes,” you mumbled as you snapped the waistband of his boxers. Steve laughed and turned you around so your back was facing the couch. His lips traveled down your chest as he unclasped your bra with one hand, not wasting a second to circle his tongue around one of your nipples as his fingers squeezed the other not too gently, eliciting a yelp from you. You yanked at his hair and he laughed breathily around your nipple.

“Like it when you do that,” he admitted. “Nearly had me chub up when you did it that one time.”

He didn’t need to tell you which time. It had been the one and only time you both had let it come a little too close for comfort. At least, too close to keep up the pretense that you weren’t into each other.

“Could tell. Your cheeks turned pink.”

Steve’s lips explored your stomach while his hands squeezed and fondled your curves. He hooked his fingers around your underwear and easily pulled them down while his lips followed the fabric until there was nothing covering your pussy. He barely let you step out of them before he pushed you down on the couch and lifted your legs over his shoulders. He took his sweet time kissing up your thighs, though you could feel through the tremble of his fingers that he was as impatient and nervous as you were. You had been watching him worship your thighs with his eyes closed, but the moment his lips wrapped around your clit he gazed up at you through his lashes.

“Steve…”

He grinned against your skin and slowly licked a stripe along your swollen lips, gathering juices to slicken up your clit with. Your hand was back in his hair before you knew it, his head bobbing as he started to eat you out hungrily. Noisily. Hands digging into the plush of your thighs as he opened them wider for better access. That fucker knew he was good at this.

Your hips bucked up to grind against him in tune with your moans and he strengthened his grip to keep in control of the pace, which he then brutally slowed down. You were about to complain when suddenly he went to town on you at full speed, his nose hitting your clit just right. The grip on his hair was none too gentle and you felt his warm moans vibrating against you. His tongue lapped at you impatiently, eyes focused on your flushed expression. He relished in the feeling of your thighs tightening around his face when you came all over his tongue.

He bullied your clit a little longer, smirking against your thigh before kissing it as you pinched his cheek to stop him. When he got back on his feet, you noticed his boxers had disappeared without you noticing. His cock was hard, the head slick from precome.

Wordlessly, you shifted on the couch and grasped his thighs to pull him close. He cupped your cheek, unable to hold back a moan as you wrapped your lips around the head and sucked none too gently. Soon enough, his hand was holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail despite letting you decide on the pace. You loved taking control. When you looked up as you bobbed your head noisily, he threw his head back with a groan. He needed to look away if he wanted this to last longer than a goddamn minute. You smirked around his cock and picked up the pace, relentlessly taking more and more of his length until your nose brushed the coarse hair above his base.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N…”

He couldn’t help himself, his grip tightened on your hair and you felt him quickly thrust his hips. You let him and absently realized this was the first time you enjoyed the salty taste of his come in the back of your throat. He broke it off halfway, giving your cheek a sweet caress before turning around to grab a condom that he apparently stored in the drawer of the coffee table. You impatiently slapped his ass, making him yelp and accidentally tearing the first condom.

“Menace, that was a perfectly fine condom,” he complained with his back to you, and you could tell he was smiling. You shrugged and leaned forward giving the spot you slapped a kiss instead. And then a nibble.

“Your ass looks biteable, y’know that?” you mumbled, kneading his ass with a longing sigh as you remembered all the times his ass had looked so good in his jeans.

Steve laughed.

“Yeah, well, so does yours.”

He turned around, condom wrapped and ready, though Steve seemed to hesitate.

“Second thoughts?” you asked, unable to filter your worries.

Steve scoffed and shook his head.

“Of course not, silly. I just— Come on.”

He grabbed your hand to pull you up and started guiding you to the bedroom.

“Want you to be comfortable,” he explained, and if that didn’t make you melt…

He propped up some pillows just perfectly and made sure you were comfortable before he positioned himself above you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss the part of your body that covered the heart that carried so much love for him. His hand slipped between you two, playing with you some more so he was certain you’d feel good once he’d go inside. He kissed you deeply, slowly, really taking his time compared to your first kiss. You both loved kissing. It was one of the many things you had shared complaints about when your dates weren’t into it as much. You had lost count how many times you had mentioned you could kiss for hours, secretly thinking of the other person.

Steve gazed into your eyes as he pushed inside slowly, his breath hitching as the sensations overtook his body. He moved without a rush, relishing being able to watch your expression as he fucked into you. His moans escaped from his lips whenever your lips weren’t against his to silence them. His tongue darted out to lick your ear and a gasp left you as he moved down and bit your neck. Your nails scratched his back as his thrusts became harder, your moans no longer contained by the press of your lips. You wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him to fuck deeper. Sweat dripped from his forehead, mixing with yours as droplets found a way into your hairline.

“Y/N… baby, fuck…”

Slow, hard thrusts helped him ride out his orgasm while his hand flicking over your clit got you clenching around his cock until you knocked over the edge. The muscles in his arms were shaking as he kept himself from collapsing on top of you, so you poked his side to make him collapse anyway.

“Oof,” you groaned, followed by a laugh.

“I was trying not to crush you,” Steve mumbled into your neck, humming pleasantly as he inhaled your shampoo.

“Maybe I wanted you to crush me. Needed some pain to know if this was all real.”

“Sure hope it’s real. Never came this hard.”

You snorted.

“It didn’t take fifteen minutes, though,” you told him, even though you had no idea.

“I told you I’d last as long as you needed me and uh, by the way you tried to clench my dick off I think I did just fine,” he responded cockily through a giggle.

“Touché,” you mumbled.

“Mmmm.”

Steve gave you a kiss, slowly, sweetly. He rested his head next to yours, slowly moving his body off of you in favor to pull your leg over his waist as he cuddled you close.

“Would it be too soon to tell you that I love you?” Steve asked, looking at you with what you could only describe as love in his eyes.

“Normally that’s a definite red flag, even you said so,” you said teasingly as you combed your fingers through his damp chest hair. “But if I said I love you too, then that would make two red flags, and two negatives is a positive, right?”

Steve shrugged, a smile spreading on his face.

“I’m sure there’s an argument against that, but I was never good at math anyway.”

“Me neither.”

Steve smiled and put his hand on top of yours.

“I love you.”

You leaned in for a soft kiss.

“I love you too.”

He watched you quietly, content and happy. At least, until a frown formed on his forehead and he cursed softly.

“What is it?”

“I lost the bet.”

You pushed lightly against his chest.

“This better not be one of those movie plots where you pretend to fall in love with someone for a bet and then supposedly actually fall for them and shit,” you tell him with narrowed eyes, although you knew Steve would never do that.

Steve laughed and shook his head.

“Nah, Robin bet me that I’d sleep with you the moment we’d confess our feelings to each other, and yes I say each other because she was convinced you liked me too and I did not believe her. So I said bet, because I thought this,” he said as he gestured between you both, “was never gonna happen. So… yeah. Well. No regrets, though, obviously,” he mumbled, stealing another kiss.

“What did you bet for?”

“Taking her shift every Saturday, even if that means a double shift for me,” Steve groaned, “and you know what she said? She said: ‘It will be for the better, because I know you two. I don’t wanna be around when you fuck like rabbits in the adult section.’ as if we’d ever—”

You gave him a look.

“Okay, she was probably right but still! Ruthless, that one.”

“She’s gonna be soooo smug…” you mumbled.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be hell.”

“I’ll just ravish you on a random Tuesday to torment her,” you shrugged and Steve laughed.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Thought you would.”

His hand wandered over your thigh and he smirked slowly.

“Wanna take a shower? There’s a girl who left basically all her toiletries here so I’m sure there’s something you can use.”

“How convenient.”

“Very.”

Steve’s gaze was absolutely smitten, and you were pretty sure your expression matched his perfectly.

FIN

If you enjoyed reading this, please know that comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Likes are lovely but sadly do nothing to spread the fics around! Help your favorite writers (not saying me - in general) out like that so you can continue to enjoy consuming the free work they put out, it's a win-win.

[pseudowho]

Daylight Robbery

Gojo Satoru likes when other men stare at what they can't have...but maybe he's underestimated Nanami Kento.

Warnings: 18+, cucking, I actually like Gojo so please don't misunderstand me 👀

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When a cuckoo visits a nest, he brings a most precious treasure, places it amongst others like it (but not exactly like it), and leaves.

And this is, of course, the most crucial point; for he does leave, and takes nothing with him.

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"Oi! Nanamin. I've got a favour to ask."

Nanami Kento stood, abruptly, looking at his watch and flapping his newspaper shut-- "My, my. Just look at the time."

"Don't be that way-- Nanamin, come back-- it's about my girl."

Nanami stopped, his hand upon the door handle. Gojo's smirk grew fast, grinning wolfishly, a squirm of possessive pleasure unfurling in his belly and his cock.

"Thought that might stop you...yeah, I've seen you looking. Can't have her though, right? My girl."

Of course, he had looked, at first, Nanami thought, his fingers on the handle. He had looked upon you, in all of your finery-- those glittering smiles, the rubies upon your lips, the marble-carved touches, so deliberately and exquisitely formed. Only after your heart and the life of you, had granted you animation, had Nanami then watched, now art in motion, art with a story.

"You can have her. If you want."

Nanami maintained his composure. Barely. He turned to face Gojo, stern and impassive.

"For one night, and one night only."

Ah. I see. You would like that, wouldn't you.

"And I get to watch. What do you say?"

A dozen questions flew through Nanami's mind, and none of them for Gojo. Nanami's cock twitched now, despite himself, calculating on bated breath.

"Sure. I'd like that. Tonight? Tell her to wear something...comfortable."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You'd only have said yes to Satoru, for the other guy to be him.

As he stepped into Satoru's bedroom, gracing you with a gentle, reassuring smile, you softened, feeling so exposed and foolish in your lingerie. You glanced over at Satoru, barely lit in the dark, fingers on his temples with one pinched between his teeth, the other hand grazing lightly over his already hardening cock.

Nanami stepped over to you, sat on the bed and looking up at him with the tiniest glint of fear. His hand reached out, strong and soft, and cupped your jaw, brushing a thumb over your lips.

"I thought I said something comfortable," he chided without malice. Your lips parted just-so under his thumb, the briefest flick of your eyes towards Satoru, a half-hearted shrug and an awkward smile. Nanami snorted, derisive.

"I understand you," he purred, leaning down to you, both hands cupping your face as he whispered against your ear, "remember...you're in charge, darling, and I am entirely at your disposal."

"Nanami...I-- I don't know...where to start." Kento hummed, nodding, his thumb moving to stroke your cheek. Despite his outward self-control, your face was directly in front of his groin, and you could see a bulge, huge and heavy, under his tan trousers.

"Kento," he insisted, "please. After all...if I treat you as well as you deserve...it's my name you'll be crying out tonight. Not your boyfriend's."

Satoru shuddered in the chair in the corner, smirking, a hushed clink as he undid his belt, reaching down to hook his long, pale, pink-tipped cock free of its restraints. His hand reached down to cup his balls, rolling and fondling them in his palm, until beads of pre-cum began to dribble onto the neat white hair leading down his belly.

"F-Fiancé," you corrected, captivated as Kento's arms moved to bracket you, nosing at your neck, the shell of your ear, hips nudging you up the bed until you settled, feather-light, on sinking pillows. Kento huffed lightly.

"Yes. My apologies. Your fiancé." You were splayed beneath him, helpless as a kitten. Satoru was tall, and big, but...nothing like this bronze Adonis above you. Broad and mountainous, Kento's shoulders rolled, his breathing getting heavier, whiskey-brown eyes drunk on you. It was just he and you in the room, you were sure. And you felt so...safe.

"Well, then," Kento hummed, one hand reaching under your back to unclasp your bra, deft and dexterous, "I'm going to treat you like it's your very first time. Please, tell me if you want me to stop."

"Don't." You urged, swallowing a sigh of relief as your corseting bra unclasped, "Don't stop," and Kento's eyes smiled at you.

"Is that better?" He whispered, kissing your forehead with such tenderness, you could have wept. Kento felt the way you pressed up against him, thrilled, roiling with such righteous rage at your misuse.

If Satoru had not been so captivated by the way Kento trembled with restraint above you, at the way your nipples pebbled as your bra was pulled softly from your body, he would have felt the fine thread of uncertainty that ran through him, as Kento treated you like spun sugar.

Used to dulling himself, Satoru gripped his cock, sighing and cursing as he stroked himself slowly, reaching to the table beside him to grab a bottle of lube, pumping it over his twitching cockhead.

Hearing the little wet sucks of Satoru's hand, masturbating himself with practiced strokes, your head tipped to watch him, teeth gritted and hungry as he watched you graze your hands over Kento's thick, corded biceps.

"Get on with it, Nanami," Satoru sniped, "or do you not know what you're doing with a girl like her? Scared I've ruined her for you?"

You blushed, moving an arm up to cover your face, as Satoru teased you both. Kento shushed you, removing your arm, pressing a kiss to your inner wrist before plaiting his fingers with yours, calm, confident and ungoadable.

"She's a rare gem, it's true," Kento answered, more to you than to Satoru, "and certainly not one that could be ruined by something so...insignificant." You felt a hot appreciative surge in your belly, so overwhelmed by the want in Kento's eyes, by his advocacy of you. His thumb was brushing over your lip again, eyes flicking between your mouth, and looking deeply into the heart of you.

"I'd kiss you," Kento whispered, "but only if you wanted me t--"

All at once, you grabbed Kento by the tie, pressing your lips to his, your first drink after a month of summer, tangling your fingers into his blond hair. Kento grunted against your mouth, pressing his body down onto yours, letting you lead the kiss, but guiding you into unexplored waters. You waded through them, calm, exotic and unfamiliar.

Kento kissed you with all the warmth and precision he had promised. Each time you tried to push the kiss further, he held you warmly back, controlling your desperate haste for your own sake. He pulled away from your mouth, a fine string of spit connecting you, and you seared at his refusal to use you, your breasts untouched, pussy untouched, so virtuous. Kento's mouth sucked at your neck, leaving his mark, subtle and inconspicuous, as he spoke to you.

"Would you like to undress me?" He offered, your hand still clutching his tie. You felt like you'd been given a gift to unwrap.

"Yes," you pleaded, body thrumming with the need for his skin on yours, "god yes, I--I'd love it. I love--...yes. Please."

"Good girl."

Kento continued to lap at your skin, his hands now ghosting over your hips, the soft plush of your belly, the dimpling in your thighs. Your hands shook, never thinking for a second that you could be edged by something as simple as removing Kento's tie, unbuttoning his shirt; simplicity made erotic. By the time you had pushed his shirt off his shoulders, caught on his brown leather harness, your irritatingly stringy underwear felt tight, wet and clingy with your own arousal.

"How wet are you, baby? D'you think he can fuck you as well as me, hmm?" You jumped at Satoru's voice from the corner. Hesitating to answer, unsure if Satoru would like what he heard, you chose silence, whimpering softly as Kento's tongue moved over your breasts, achingly close to your sensitive peaks. Satoru's breathing came ragged, watching another man devour you, just so he could wrench you away after...his hand gripped the base of his cock, twitching and wet, gasping with the effort to not spend himself all over his belly.

Your fingertips ghosted over Kento's harness, thoughtful. Just as Kento was about to graze his lips over your plump nipple, he stopped.

"You like it? My harness?" He chuckled, his hand rising to brush over yours, still fingering the brown leather. You bit your lip, nodding. Kento understood fully; in moments, he had stripped his shirt, replacing the harness only. You almost melted at the sight of him above you, buckling the harness over the front of his pecs, his own nipples being grazed by the tight leather press.

Kento watched you shudder, taking your hand, stroking it over the leather, down his belly towards his belt, feeling the veins of his V-line tracking down to his cock. Your mouth watered, and Kento shivered as your fingers tickled just beneath his belt.

Not breaking eye contact, Kento lowered his mouth back to your breasts, resuming as he pulled your nipple into his mouth, moaning around you at the sweet yielding softness. His tongue traced you so gently-- too gently, for the relief you needed.

"Harder-- please, Ken..." Kento acquiesced, ever your servant, as he drew your nipple deeply, the pleasure tangy and sharp as your nipple grazed the roof of his mouth, his thick fingers kneading and rolling your other breast. Your hips bucked up against nothing, and you whimpered in despair, no longer used to such ceaselessly tender foreplay. Your hands tangled in his hair, trying to push his head down your body, and Kento mumbled, voice husky and rumbling against your spit-wet nipple.

"Where do you want my mouth?" Before you could answer, Satoru interrupted, his voice low and feverish, working at his balls again with one lube-wet hand, flicking at his own nipples beneath his white undershirt.

"Eat her out, Nanamin. I want to see how fast you can make her cum...or, if you even can." Kento smiled at you again, soft, not rising to the taunts, casting an embargo on the forced air of toxic masculine competition.

"Let me know...if it's too much," Kento offered, his mouth kissing down your belly. As he reached your underwear, all silky straps and ties, Kento paused, tongue grazing just above them.

"Do you like these?" He asked, sincere. You bit your lip, mortified at having been read like a book.

"No," you whispered into the back of your hand, too quiet for Satoru to hear, "not really."

Kento hummed. His strong hands gripped your underwear, snapping one side at a time. Satoru groaned at Kento's fractured restraint, his thighs and back prickling with the edge of his orgasm; "Oh fuck, baby...you see how bad he wants you? Shit. Gonna look so beautiful with his cock inside you...get on with it, Nanamin."

Kento knelt above you, removing the scrap of your underwear, tossing it aside to his shirt. He looked down at you in reverence, his fingertips grazing past the puffy lips of your pussy, to dip his fingers into your wetness, lubricating himself with you. As Kento brought two fingers back up to gently pinch your clit, rolling it between them, he sighed, whispering again at your mewls and cries.

"Beautiful...gorgeous. You take as long as you need."

Kento undid his belt, chest straining against his harness, abs and pecs twitching as he fingered you with devastating expertise. He had imagined you like this so many times, mathematic in his fantasies, calculating how he would orchestrate your divine undoing. His free hand undid his belt, lowering himself to his belly as he rucked off his trousers, boxers and socks, his desperately aching cock now sandwiched between his abs and the bedsheets.

When Kento removed his fingers from your clit, you shot up on your elbows to look down at him with a cry of remand. Your breath caught at Kento gazing at your slick on his fingers, dipping them into his mouth, long pink tongue licking them clean and shivering at your taste.

Satoru's head pressed back against the chair, arching into his hand with a breathless laugh; "Doesn't she taste good, Nanamin? Don't worry...I'll finish her off, if you can't get her there." Satoru didn't know how much longer he could keep going, his cockhead a deep, angry pink, balls tight and full from almost spilling into his hand so many times, determined to outlast Kento. The thrill of the chase consumed him in holy fire.

Kento's eyes twinkled at you, unflappable, chuckling at how you bit your lip down at him, embarrassed by him tasting you with such enthusiasm. He chuckled as you covered your eyes again, nuzzling your inner thigh as you giggled, sharing a moment of companionable silliness. Kento broke it swiftly, dragging you out of your wall-breaking moment, by nuzzling his nose between your folds, and you gasped, moaning, high and long.

Kento had built you up with such precision, that by the time the tip of his tongue slid between your folds, flicking from side to side to part them and lay claim to your neglected bud, you came with a jolted cry, one hand clutching the pillow behind your head, the other entwined in his hair, pressing his face down into your bucking sex.

"--oh fuck-- shit, baby, are you serious? For Nanamin, huh? Fff--fuck-- so fucking beautiful." Satoru was shaking now, competitive bile rising in his throat, sorely tempted to throw Kento off of you, jealously coveting you in a way he hadn't earlier.

Satoru yanked his balls away from the base of his cock with a stilted growl, gripping himself, staving his orgasm away. He wouldn't waste a single drop of his seed until he could throw Kento out, and show you how a real man could fuck you. Kento knew the rules; he could not stay after to watch, and he could not spend his seed inside you. That privilege was Satoru's alone. Satoru ripped his blindfold off with a hiss, tossing it aside, staring into you and Kento and seeing you both in his own unique completion.

Kento wrapped his forearms around you, looped over the top of your thighs, licking you softly down from one orgasm, nuzzling you until you trembled, before lapping you back into his lips, and beginning to build you again, delicate, piece by piece.

"Kentooo-ooooo...aaahhhhh--put your--put your tongue in me-- please please pleas--"

Satoru almost ejaculated untouched, hearing you beg and twist under Kento's hungry tongue. He could see Kento's euphoria from your taste and twitches beneath his tongue. He could see the way Kento subtly fucked himself against the sheets, denying himself, and looking so cool about it, but still undeniably just a man.

"Shit-- baby-- see the way Nanamin's fucking our bed, huh?...fuck, why wouldn't he-- taste so fucking good, should we even let him fuck you, hmm?"

As lights and stars fell in your vision, rutting your clit against Kento's nose, his tongue licking as deeply as he could penetrate inside your cunt, you wondered faintly, that Kento was not fucking you, but making love to you instead. You felt wholly possessed, worshipped.

With Kento at your altar, you revelled, divine and cumming over, and over, and over, lost in some blissful fever-dream. Time lost meaning as he made you fluid beneath him.

Satoru moved to stand, and, still with his face between your legs, guiding you down from another orgasm, Kento raised one impeding just-a-moment finger to Satoru. Satoru's breaths were ragged, and he released his grip on the arm of the chair, moaning weak little moans as his aching cock sat, sore and in desperate need of something softer than his own hand.

Kento kissed his way back up to your mouth, face cupped, swiping the tears from your lashes with his thumbs.

"What do you think?" He whispered, teeth nipping at your tilted throat as you panted and shivered beneath his touch, "Can I give you what you want, goddess?" You nodded, short and incoordinate, and Kento could have burst with covetous pride to feel you hook your legs up and around his back, urging him, inviting him in.

Kento growled, feeling his leaking tip ghost the puffy tight wetness of your entrance. His breath caught in his chest, pins and needles all over his hips and cock as he bit back his orgasm, his brain fighting him with the image of you with his seed dripping all over your folds.

"Like it's your first time," Kento repeated, dipping his thumb over your tongue, groaning in approval as you sucked it, doe-eyed and supple and desperate to taste him, "I'll be gentle...I promise." You shivered, born anew as he began to press his cockhead inside you, both of you balanced on a knife's edge.

Satoru could have wept; your insistence on Kento taking you in missionary, of all positions, shielded you from his view, Kento's cock about to penetrate you behind the plush of your thighs.

"Stop," Satoru ordered, voice rasping, dry, clipped, "I'm here to watch, and you're here to do as you're fucking told, Nanami."

Nanami caught how your face twisted in frustration, anger at having been interrupted. He rose one hand to plait with yours again, licking your jaw as he stroked his cockhead between your folds, teasing your clit, shivering as he slyly encouraged you to give him a pussyjob. You mewled, feeling a hot dribble of pre-cum over your clit, dripping down towards your entrance.

"I only follow one person's orders here, Gojo," Kento rumbled, pressing his slit over your hard little bud, wiggling them together with a hiss so your most sensitive spots slipped together as puzzle pieces for a moment. You felt yourself, shaking like a leaf, feeling such copious amounts of Kento's arousal seep out around the seal his slit had made over your bud. You felt dizzy, clutching Kento's beautiful, clenching arms.

The centre of your world focused so entirely on Kento, you had placed yourself into the palm of his hand, aching for him to control you in a way that was so thoroughly in defence of you.

"Besides," Kento said, pressing his cock deeper now, husky as he felt your tight, gummy walls suck him in, "you should watch her face instead of her pussy...it's the best part."

Satoru whimpered, moaning as he fucked up into his own fist, lube splattered onto his groin, white hair wet with fluids; all for the look on your face as Kento bottomed out, thick and long and filling you with his oozing perfection. Your jaw fell slack, eyes dewy as you drank in Kento's muscular form, still bound by his brown harness. You sobbed with relief at the blissful stretch of his cock within you.

"So good...not too big for you, sweetheart? So brave...move yourself around my cock when you're ready."

You gripped Kento close, your arm round his chest and gripping his harness from the back, face buried into his chest. Your sob of relief at having been filled, threatened to grow into full tears at the exquisite beauty of being possessed with no selfishness. Kento felt you, one enormous hand tangled in the back of your head, the other leaning above you, intertwined with your free hand.

Kento was stock still, mumbling into your hair, kissing your ear, as you rolled your hips upwards, sweeping your slick pussy up and down his length, fucking him as he caged you in. Kento cursed, sweating and groaning, the leather of his harness creaking as his chest strained against it. His brow furrowed, and he cupped your hip in one hand, guiding you to keep sliding your pussy around his throbbing cock, rutting deeply down into you to meet your thrusts.

Hearing your gorgeous little mewls at Kento's blunt cockhead kissing your cervix was Satoru's last straw. His hand stuttered around his cock as he threw his head back, his orgasm hurtling over him with force.

"--agghh shit-- no more, I can't-- fuck you Nanami, you piece of--piece of shit--" Satoru's seed spattered over his belly, dripping down his hand, cock and balls as he groaned, interrupted by breathless, fractured gasps. He watched Kento's hips pick up pace, and watched as you pressed your forehead to his, all honey-rich and sweat as you panted into each other.

Kento couldn't have cared less about Satoru's jealous spitting, for he was wholly possessed by a primal urge to take you, and make you his. He kissed into your belly with his cock, gasping, feeling your walls clench around him, milking so much pre-cum from him that he shook, hot and thirsty, grunting against your clamouring lips.

Kento locked your ankles behind the small of his back, tipping your hips back into a press, pushing you past your pussy's limit to take any more of him. He rutted into you hard, barely pulling back, bullying your spongy walls with savage attentions, fully feral.

"--come on, girl--such a good girl, gonna--ahhh fuck gonna--hold--hold onto me--"

Taking full advantage of Satoru's dopey post-orgasm laxness, Kento pushed himself past the point of no return, loving you greedily and with no intention to share. Kento felt his balls tighten up, his seed loaded and ready to spill.

Satoru realised a moment too late; "--Nanami--pull out--don't you fucking dare--"

Kento came with a bark, feeling his cum start to pulse into you in long, thick spurts. Satoru darted forwards, still messy with his own cum, still half-dazed. Kento slung out an arm, his fingers fixing round Satoru's throat as he grunted, deep husky moans as he continued to spurt inside you, Kento's face the picture of serenity and rage.

Fingers gripped tight around Satoru who stood, teeth bared and considering murder, Kento came down from his high, panting, still rutting lazily into you. You lay, euphoric and full of thick cum, so sticky that it coated your inner walls, clinging to your slick pussy, barely leaking out as Kento pulled out.

"Sorry," Kento huffed, voice uncharacteristically light, "not sure...what came over me. You know what it's like, Gojo."

Kento released Satoru, reaching down to swipe your hair from your eyes, his own amber and affectionate; "Want me to run you a bath?"

You laughed softly, trying to cover your blushes. Satoru gripped Kento by the shoulder, throwing him back. Kento stepped smoothly into it, still looking longingly into you like Satoru was less than the most fleeting of irritations.

"Shut the fuck up, Nanami. Get out."

Satoru climbed over you, pressing you back onto the bed. Feeling his once familiar, adored body and kisses felt so curiously alien. As if you had been overwritten by something so much...more.

Satoru mumbled sweet nothings into your throat, restraining and possessive, as he lined his cock up with your entrance. A core instinctive knowing took control, and you closed your legs with an odd finality.

As Kento did up his last button, you looked to him as his eyes caught yours, fire burning within. He stepped away with a gracious nod, and with the click of the door, your stomach fell.

For Kento had left something behind, blooming within you, and took a part of you with him, pocketing something which you would surely be obliged to follow.

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It took Satoru many years to accept his own mistake. He did not accept it, when you told him you were leaving him. He did not accept it, when Nanami opened his doors to you and your suitcases, in the wee small hours of the night. He did not accept it as he watched you bloom, belly round and full with Nanami's growing seed, Nanami's hand overlaying yours, holding you and your baby. He did not accept it as he saw something between you and Nanami, that he had never felt between himself and you.

His mistake, was that Nanami Kento would not partake in cuckolding.

For Nanami Kento was not a cuckoo at all, but a thief, of the highest calibre.

[fangswbenefits]

Memories

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You are ready to tell Miguel he is going to be a father… but he isn’t.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

Hurt/comfort. Fluff. I teared up writing this and figured I needed someone else to share the pain with me :D

“Miguel.”

You looked on as the man before your eyes paused the video on the hovering screen.

“It’s late,” he said in a low voice, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Did something happen?”

The lump in your throat was hard to swallow at first as you realised he was once again replaying old memories. Miguel O’Hara was stuck in the past while trying to preserve the future.

“I have something to tell you.”

You had considered waiting until he got back home, but you needed to let it all out now.

He turned to fully face you and stepped from the platform. The closer he got to you, the more you felt your anxiety soaring.

“Did something happen?” He repeated, planting a soft kiss to your forehead. “You should be home.”

This is what Miguel did. He took care of others. He couldn’t help it, even if his lifelong concern got in between the two of you.

Or three, you should say.

“I wanted to tell you now,” you smiled briefly as you took his hand in yours while taking a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

His red eyes widened slightly and then… nothing.

He merely stood there as if frozen in time, the grip on your hand slowly faltering.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

“How?”

You arched an eyebrow. “Really? You’re asking me how?”

“No! I mean…” he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When did you find out?”

“Today.”

Giving your hand a final squeeze he let go, his warmth suddenly vanishing.

“Huh… I thought…” your next words died in your mouth and your heart dropped.

Seeing him walk up the platform steps left you speechless. You thought he wanted this… to rebuild the life that he lost.

Tears began to sting your eyes, but you refused to let a single one stream down your face.

A video of his daughter giggling and running around started playing and you saw him clenching his fists. Her giggles echoed through the room breaking the silence that had settled.

“Miguel O’hara, look at me!”

Had this been a mistake? Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe you two had rushed things.

“Miguel,” you called out again, anger filling you with such intensity you felt like shooting your webs at his back to have him turn around. “I’m carrying your child. Look at me!”

The cheeky giggles stopped at once and nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

Miguel did what you asked and that’s when you saw a single tear running down his hardened face.

In that moment, your anger shattered and the overwhelming need to take care of him took over.

You promptly joined him on the platform, burying your face in his broad chest. His arms circled you in a tight embrace, and you remained silent for a while.

“I’m broken.”

“Miguel… don’t…”

He heaved a deep sigh. “You deserve better.”

It wasn’t easy to go through his insecurities with him. He had built a wall around him that kept people out.

“I can’t forget her…”

Miguel O’hara had once been responsible for the destruction of

“I don’t want to forget her!” he nearly yelled, pulling you away from his embrace as his red eyes flickered with hurt. “I don’t… I don’t want to move on without the memory of her…”

You brought both hands to frame his face. “Miguel, I am not asking that of you… she will always be part of you.”

He refused to look you in the eye, his jaw tensing.

“I thought you wanted this…” you whispered, voice cracking.

“I do.”

You felt like crumbling down inside. “I thought you’d be happy.”

Miguel’s eyes met yours. “I am.”

“Then…”

He shook his head. “You don’t get it. I’ve been telling myself I’m worthy of a second chance for a long time. I tell that to myself every single day,” he paused momentarily to place a large hand on your belly. “But maybe I am wrong. I’ll mess this up, too.”

Your hand came to rest atop his and you offered a kind smile. “You won’t. You’re still healing. You need—”

All of a sudden both hands came to grip your arms and that’s when you saw panic splattered across his face.

“You don’t get it! I can’t lose you,” he said, eyes darting from your face to your belly. “I do all of this, because I owe an unrepayable debt. My mistake cost the lives of so many. And I’m being selfish again…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You suddenly said, breaking free from his grip. “Why do you think I chose to be with you? To build a family with you? You’re the most honourable person I know,” you added, not able to hold back a few tears. “Yes, you made a mistake,” his face hardened. “But you paid for it. You paid the highest price.”

He was getting ready to interrupt you, but you raised your hand. “You’re going to be a father again and don’t have to forget her. She lives in you and in all that you do.”

“What would I do without you?” he finally spoke.

You chuckled, placing the softed kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’d probably set camp here in this room, and live the rest of your lives as a hermit.”

Miguel silently glared at you and when he got down on one knee, you felt all the love and adoration for him crashing down on you.

“You’re going to have an amazing mother,” he whispered softly before placing a kiss over your shirt.

Your fingers tangled in his thick brown hair before pressing the side if his face flat against your belly. “And you’ll the best father.”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Tenacity

Pairing: Boston Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Joel Miller will never allow himself to take what he wants and you know that. How can a broken shower make him realize it's too late and he's already fallen for you? (Or Joel fucks you on his beat up couch in the QZ.) Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, riding, apocalypse birth control, old furniture doing old furniture things, a grown man dealing with feelings, apologies for the Tess erasure. Words: 2,300

A/N: @ohheypedrito mentioned couch Joel and I couldn't help myself, I am forever in her debt. Thank you to @jennaispunk for beta'ing

Masterlist

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He knows he shouldn’t have let you in, he should’ve stayed silent and let you think he wasn’t home, but he can never say no to you, a fact you’re well aware of. Your shower has been broken for months, sure you can ask another neighbor, but Joel’s place is your first choice, never bringing a towel, always choosing to wrap yourself in his scent. 

You smirk that devilish look and without a word saunter into his bathroom. He settles on the couch, large body dipping in the underfilled cushions, his back aches after a long day of work. The last thing he needs to deal with is his budding erection pressing against the metal zipper but he just can’t stop thinking about your body dripping wet in that damn dirty shower of his. 

He’s exhausted, his head thuds against the floral wallpaper turning yellow with age and decay, he can only assume this miniscule apartment once belonged to a nice old woman who liked soft pretty things. Joel too likes soft pretty things, the one he likes the most just happens to be you, currently happily humming behind the bathroom door you refuse to fully close. His eyes focus up on the dingy ceiling above praying for a reprieve from the emotions that bloom within him whenever he thinks of you. 

The tap turns off, he steels himself, straightening his sore body. God damnit, he thinks throwing an arm to stretch across the back of the couch. The hand resting against his upper thigh nervously taps against his jeans. Funny that you’re the only thing in this world to make him anxious and yet your presence always leaves him tranquil.  He already knows where this will lead, he must be some sort of masochist, never feeling like he deserves your attention but still accepting anything you’ll gift him. 

The sound of your post shower routine floats across the small room. Curtain opens, curtain shuts, pitter patters of your feet to the towel rack, a woosh of the heavy fibers settling against your body, your contented hum that prickles against the back of Joel’s neck. You’re the only bright spot in this hellhole, a shining ray that blinds his mind and heart whenever he wonders how someone like you can exist in a world like this. 

The dim living room floods with a beam of light from the bathroom, steam billows out of the doorway, your form wrapped only in his towel steps out of the fog, he swears this might be what heaven looks like. There’s enough space for you to change into your clothes in the bathroom, but you never do. 

That smirk shows up again, heaven and hell existing in one crooked grin stretched across your mouth. Joel’s never been a religious man, sure he’s prayed during hopeless times in his life, but tonight, he prays to whatever being that will listen to give him the strength so he may provide you everything he has without falling even harder. 

Temptress… your foot rests atop the coffee table, delicate hands running along your outstretched leg rubbing sweet smelling oil across your skin. Joel knows his body is marred and battered, rough and calloused, he questions why in the hell you’d ever want your silken curves anywhere near him. You switch legs, if only the room was brighter he could turn his head just a bit and look up the towel. 

No need for that, a telepathic wave treads through his brain as he watches you unwrap the towel and toss it aside. Naked and standing only a few feet away from him, he knows it’s not voyeurism when you’re so eagerly inviting him to look but he still feels an inkling of shame. Sweet, sweet girl. Your oil coated palms leave a trail of sheen across the skin he can’t wait to taste. Silently, you saunter over, small bottle of oil in hand, he knows how your skin tingles from the peppermint after applying, he can almost feel it warming his lips. He leans forward, palm instinctively outstretched for you to deposit a few drops of oil into his awaiting hand.  

You turn around and kneel on the floor, his hands start at your shoulders lightly rubbing across your skin, tracing the path of your spine. He’s hesitant to put too much pressure, always afraid to deface the gorgeous individual you are, neglecting the fact that this always leads to you heedlessly asking him for more. The oil smooths his movements, your head bobs back and forth melting into his touch. There’s no type of divinity he’d ever worship in the apocalypse, but he surely finds devotion with you and the symphony of quiet moans that leave your lips. 

“Feels good,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

He takes a deep breath letting his lungs deflate a long exhale, your gratitude unlocking another long buried sense of ease. Manners are lost in this world, you’re such a rarity. 

He doesn’t count himself as a lucky man, but when you turn around and nuzzle your clean face against his soot and dirt covered jeans he just might feel like he’s won the lottery. You plant a kiss against his bulge before pulling yourself up to straddle his lap. Joel’s hands subconsciously station themselves against your back, fingers lightly digging into your damp skin. Suddenly his back no longer ails him. 

“When’s the last time you bathed Joel?” You’re still warm from your shower, you cover him like a velvet blanket. 

“This morning,” he croaks out, overwhelmed by the sensation of you.   

“Mm. Did you think of me while in it? I know you have a habit of doing that.”

He nods, your eyes pooling with desire at the confession. 

His denim shirt feels constrictive, your bare skin is too tantalizing, he fidgets underneath, restless from the sensation of his heavy clothes. 

No need for that, rattles through his lust-addled brain. Your hands begin deftly unbuttoning his shirt. He loves the way your mouth drops and your head shakes incredulously whenever you get the first glimpse of his bronze skin. He loves that he’s been with you enough to know exactly how you’ll react to him. 

His shirt lands atop the towel.

“Perfect aim,” you smile.

Joel chuckles. You’re the only being on this earth that can make him laugh. 

You lean forward, placing your ear against his heart, he takes the longest, deepest breath getting lost in the moment, forgetting how much he likes to think he can fight this feeling. He can smell your yarrow shampoo mixed with the peppermint, this world literally stinks, and yet here you are fragrant and pleasing. 

Your hand brushes back and forth against a patch of chest hair, the other dragging up and down his arm. He loves when you pet him, nothing calms him more. He still can’t come up with an exact reason why he refuses to let himself have you when you’re the only thing he longs for. You’re torturing him right now, he wishes you were clueless about the power you hold over him. 

He places a kiss on your hair, breathing in your scent, he just can’t help himself.

“Wish I had wallpaper this pretty in my apartment,” you muse. 

“No need for the wallpaper, you’re pretty enough,” it escapes his lips before he can stop it. 

“Oh really?” Pulling back and sitting tall atop his lap, your eyebrow arches. “You think I’m prettier than faded old lady wallpaper?”

God damnit, your mouth is too goddamn smart. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I do. You’re pretty too.” 

He wants to kiss that godforsaken smug smile off your lips. 

No need for that, crowds his mind, much like your lips do now against his. His mouth opens to accept your tongue. He groans against your mouth when you yank his hair, pulling his head back so you can lick into his mouth. He chases your mouth, sucking your lower lip between his plush lips. Your cunt finds the tent in his jeans and begins rocking against it. Your kiss turns sloppier, tongues rolling against each other, hot breaths intermingling. Your lips move down to nibble his chin, licking your way down to his neck. He growls your name when you clamp down and suck the tanned skin into your mouth. 

He needs to feel you against all of his skin. 

He’s never hated his belt more than right now as he clumsily unbuckles it between your writhing hips. 

“Christ,” he barks, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, you give him a temporary reprieve from your grinding as he raises his hips and yanks his pants down. 

He gathers you into his arms and leans forward, swiping the old books and magazines off the coffee table top laying you across it. 

He kicks out of his jeans, his knees protest as he sinks to his knees in front of you splayed across the oak. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head and flutter shut at the first taste of you. Tangy, sweet, all woman, all his, for as long as he thinks he deserves. 

Sweet, sweet girl.

Your coos and purrs dance through his ears twisting their way into his heart. He licks a stripe up your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit and flattening against it. Your hands climb all over his hair, grasping and pulling, he loves when you take what you want from him. Forcing him to hand himself over to you, body, mind, soul, heart. Whether that be a shower or his tongue against your pussy.

He could stay here forever, the rest of his body still as a statue, just his mouth allowed to move against your sweet cunt, fucking you with his tongue, massaging your clit with his lips. 

Your hips thrash against his face, legs wrapping around his head, pushing him even farther into your searing pussy. 

He can feel you begin to dissolve into him, your thighs trembling against his ears, the pressure of your legs wrapped around him increasing. He’s encircled by all of your beauty, your slick pours into his mouth as your orgasm explodes into him. He drinks down everything you give him, never able to be greedy outside of his time spent with you writhing and naked under his touch. You unlock your legs, your body still quaking from your climax. 

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

His cock stands weeping between his legs, he gathers the precum and spreads it across his tip before pumping himself watching your eyes hungrily focus on him. 

You spread your legs farther open with an unspoken invitation for him to take your pussy for his keeping. He accepts it, his wide cock slowly engulfing in your wet heat. 

You gasp and smile at the sensation, he feels his walls crumble.  

God damnit, there’s that damn smile again.

He loves how you take him, drawing your hips against his, the two of you tangled in hedonistic harmony here in this hellhole of a quarantine zone. You’re the only reason he stays. 

He’ll never allow himself to say it, he fights like hell to not feel it, yet another battle he’s going to lose. 

He bends forward, your head pinned between his forearms, he sucks at your lips, you can taste yourself all over his mustache. His cock slides in and out, pace turning more punishing the louder you cry out. Neighbors be damned, you’re the only one he likes, at least they’ll know you’re his. 

His weight presses against you and the rickety coffee table, both shaking as he pummels into your pussy. A crack emits from the leg he’s been meaning to fix, the decrepit coffee table disintegrates underneath all of his power. He’d laugh at his luck if he wasn’t so fucking turned on by you. Joel gathers you in his arms, throwing himself back against the couch, his cock never leaving the heat of your entrance. You sink fully down on him, his cock hitting the gooey spot inside of you that makes you liquefy. 

Sweat drips down his face, he’s so fucking tired already knowing his body will protest everything he’s put it through, but you’re worth it, the strangled noises you’re panting out will soothe his sore muscles come tomorrow. 

He nips at your jaw, licking the sheen of sweat on your skin and tasting the prickling peppermint. His nails rake against your back, you’re so fucking smooth, the harder you ride him, the deeper his nails press into your skin. 

Your body grows tense above him, his lips crush against yours wanting to gulp down all of your screams. You’re shattered by him again, his cock feels like the only thing tethering you down to this earth. He’s close, so fucking close. His orgasm has been waiting for you to pulse around his cock, your softness squeezing his last bit of resolve. 

Joel pulls out, immediately bemoaning the cruelty of not being able to cum inside you. One, two, three, pumps and he’s cumming against your stomach, your head angling down, wide eyes watching as the white ropes drip down your skin. 

Your ear finds his heart again, Joel knows it’s racing and you can hear it. He kisses your hair, humming a satisfied groan. Little does he know this is your favorite part of your shower visits, knowing that for just a short period of time you’ve made him happy. 

“I guess you’re going to need a new table.”

“I’ll be able to fix it, used to be a contractor.”

He surprises himself at the divulgence, reminding him to keep you at arms length, you’re too good for him. 

No need for that.