#I EXPECT CHEERING AND CLAPPING FROM ALL OF YOU

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Cool Points (Part 2)

Pairing: Lando Norris x female!Reader (pro footballer player)

Summary: Having fought long and hard for custody of her two younger siblings, Y/N was ready for smooth sailing at least until the F1-obsessed twins became teenagers. What she wasn't expecting was for Lando to come and turn her world upside down

Warnings: Swearing, a lil angst, talks of past child neglect and allusion to past child abuse, slow burn to start but largely just domestic fluff so we good

Word Count: 4,866

A/N: Part two - I hope you guys enjoy. There'll be one more part to bring us to present day, so just a lot of domestic fluff to come. Please let me know what you thought and if you'd like to see more F1 writing in the future ❤️

Part One

2022 (Age 22)

“Y/N - hang back a sec, if you would?”

Y/N slowed to a jog, gesturing to Tara to continue onto the changing room without her as she turned around to face where their coach, Jude, and captain, Liza, were standing. From one of the stands, she could still hear her siblings and Lando cheering - she was sure they had made a game of it, to see who of them could cheer the loudest for their training, but Y/N couldn’t particularly find it within herself to care.

“What’s wrong?” She panted, hands on her hips.

“Take a second to catch your breath,” Jude ordered. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Liza said, practically beaming at her.

Y/N was going to miss Liza - she had announced at one of the training sessions the previous week that she would be leaving Chelsea. She had been Y/N’s captain ever since she herself had signed her contract when she was 18, and she knew it had been Liza who had vouched for her place on the national team both in the Olympics and the World Cup. More than that, she had been a valuable character witness during the adoption hearing for the twins, vouching for Y/N’s capability as a guardian to the two kids.

“Good work today,” Jude started. “There’s for sure been some improvement with your footwork - and your teamwork with Tara-"

“It’s like you’re telepathic sometimes,” Liza cut him off. “Which is exactly what you want for your midfielders.”

“Ah - thank you,” Y/N said, not quite sure what to make of the sudden compliments. 

“When Liza told me of her plans to leave, I asked if she had any suggestions for who should be named Captain,” Jude began. Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest as she began to connect the dots.

“I put you forwards,” Liza confirmed. “I think you’re ready.”

“I’ve been watching more closely for the past week and I have to agree.”

“I… I’m flattered,” Y/N began slowly. “But - my schedule, and there are others who have more experience.”

“Maybe - but the team listen to you, they respect you,” Jude informed her. “Just - think about it for now. We’ll schedule a meeting to go over it next week, alright? I know you have… other commitments.” As if on cue, there was another shriek of laughter from the stands and Y/N had to smile. “But we can work something out, okay?”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good man,” Jude said, clapping his hand on her shoulder. “Now - it sounds as though you’ve got some adoring fans to get to.”

“Yeah - sorry again about that. The Goblins insisted Lando come to watch training,” Y/N said apologetically.

“It’s nice to have them here - it’s been a while since you’ve brought them.”

“Despite my best attempts, they still have minimal interest in football.”

“A shame - suppose it doesn’t help that your boyfriend’s an F1 driver, he’s bound to be encouraging that.”

“Me and Lando aren’t together,” Y/N dismissed immediately. “But he definitely has a hand in their continued love of all things Forumla One.”

“I’ll certainly miss them when I leave the team, though,” Liza inputted, making Y/N roll her eyes.

“Please - when I told Haz you’d signed a new contract, she asked if I’d buy her merch for your new team because she wants to change allegiance. Absolute nightmare child.” 

“That’s my girl,” Liza laughed.

Y/N lifted a hand as she jogged away from her manager and old captain, her mind racing with thoughts of what they had proposed. When she got to the changing room, only Tara was still inside, brushing her hair out.

“What did they want? Offer you the captaincy?” 

“How’d you know?”

“We’ve been taking bets as a team,” Tara shrugged. “Which you’d know if you ever came out for team drinks,” she added, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“I try and come for the first round!” Y/N protested, grabbing her towel and heading towards the showers. Tara followed her, leaning against the wall with a grin.

“And you always pay for the first round - which is why we keep you around,” she got a more serious expression then. “But it’s true, then? They made you captain?”

“They’ve asked me to think on it,” Y/N corrected, beginning to strip.

“You’re going to say no, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know - maybe.”

“Your twins would be fuming if they know they’re the reason,” Tara warned her.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the changing room door and the sound of Haz’s voice calling for her.

“I said I’d think on it and I will.”

“Talk it through with them - they’re old enough to understand and have an opinion, Y/N,” she hesitated before her grin widened into something sharper. “And tell Lando, I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say.”

“Don’t you have a date to get to?” Y/N laughed, not bothering to correct Tara’s words - her best friend knew exactly what was going on with Lando, and just liked to tease her about it. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Tara put her hands up and turned away. “I’ll let Haz know you’re just showering.”

Y/N showered quickly and changed into some regular clothes before stuffing her kit into her sports bag and putting it over her shoulder. Haz was waiting outside, leaning against the wall opposite the door to the changing rom with her nose buried in a book.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Queenie,” Y/N said, smoothing her hand over her sister’s hair. 

“Took so long I had to turn to studying,” Haz huffed, but there was a tiny smile tugging at her lips.

Y/N laughed, leading her sister outside, where Lando had managed to get his hands on a football, and was kicking it back and forth with Tony. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the scene.

“Thinking of switching sport?” She teased.

Lando turned around, a beaming smile on his face.

“You were awesome!”

“It wan’t a match,” Y/N laughed, ignoring the fluttering of her heart.

“She’s also great in matches,” Tony inputted quietly, kicking the football over to Haz.

“Of course she is!”

“You could come to a match,” Haz offered eagerly, booting the ball over to Lando.

“I’d love to!” 

“If you hang around until next year you could come to the world cup,” Y/N joked.

“Have you been selected for the team?” Lando asked excitedly. “Is that what they wanted to talk to you about?”

“They floated team selection, like, a month ago. I think the Olympics means that I’m likely going to make the team - especially since Chelsea’s at the top of the league anyway,” Y/N dismissed. 

“Well I’ll certainly still be around next year so I’m definitely going to hold you to World Cup tickets,” Lando informed her. His words warmed her from the inside out. 

She hadn’t expected to hear from him again after Silverstone last year - after they had kissed and she had insisted it couldn’t go anywhere, she’d assumed he’d lose interest. But that hadn’t been the case - instead, the opposite had happened. 

He had made himself constantly available to her - he’d text her about his strangest thoughts, and would send her pictures from the Paddock of his fellow drivers for her to show to the twins. He’d call her to listen to her worries about her siblings - offering words of support or just an outlet for her constant fears, and always tried to assure her that she was doing a good job raising them. 

Lando had even invited the three of them to stay with him in Monaco over the twins’ half term during the football off-season. It had been a brilliant week - Lando had organised a packed itinerary for them all, and Y/N knew that the twins were still bragging about the trip to their school friends.

If she was being entirely honest, Y/N wasn’t sure what she would have done without his support over the past year.

She had tried to return the favour - if she saw he’d had a hard race, or seemed distant over his messages she’d do her best to cheer him up. Either through sending him pictures of the twins messing around, or by recalling a funny anecdote of her own, or just offering a free ear if he wanted to complain. 

And at some point over the last year or so, she had started to believe that he really was here to stay.

“Come on - lets get some food,” Y/N said, receiving the ball that Tony kicked towards her. She picked it up and chucked it back through the door that she had just come out of.

“Rabbit food?” Haz asked, scrunching her nose in distaste.

“Only for your sister and me, you two can get whatever you like - my treat,” Lando assured her, sharing an amused glance with Y/N.

“What do you feel like?” Y/N asked the twins. 

“Pasta?” Tony suggested immediately, as Y/N knew he would.

Later that evening, the four of them were walking back through the streets of London - the twins ahead of them each holding an ice cream as they chatted about something to do with their friends.

“Thank you for watching them, by the way - I’ve not really said that yet,” Y/N said, breaking the silence at last.

“Of course,” Lando snorted. “I’d remind you that they’re good kids, but I think they’re going to start objecting to that soon.”

“I’m not ready for them to go full teenager,” Y/N groaned at the reminder. 

“Think they’ll be like you were?” Lando asked curiously.

“God I hope not.”

“Why? Were you a troublemaker?” There was so much glee in the question that Y/N had to think for a second about how honestly to answer. She didn’t want to ruin this, she didn’t want to break the causal, cheerful atmosphere around them.

Then she looked over at Lando, who was staring at her expectantly and there was something so achingly soft in his expression that she knew for the first time that she wanted to tell him everything - anything that he wanted to know about her, anything that he was willing to ask, she was willing to share.

“More like the opposite,” Y/N admitted, going for a casual shrug, but knew the movement was more jerky than she was aiming for. “I was scared of causing trouble. I… didn’t want to give my parents any more excuse to be angry, you know?”

Lando stops walking, reaching out and carefully circling his fingers around her wrist to pull her to a stop as well. There’s open fear in his eyes and Y/N wants to reassure him, wants to hug him and promise that everything is okay.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked in a whisper. 

Y/N tried for a smile, but knew it came out as more of a grimace. She carefully moved her wrist so that their hands linked together instead, and she tugged on their now joined hands to get him to start moving again.

“They were bad parents,” she told him in lieu of a straight answer. Lando sucked in a breath, but when Y/N looked at him again, he just nodded - apparently deciding not to press further. “I want them to feel safe enough to be… nightmares, you know? Like I’m dreading them becoming teenagers, but I hope that they feel safe enough to cause trouble at all? Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does,” Lando confirmed quietly. “I meant to say, by the way - my mum wants to meet you.”

“She what?”

“Well - she was actually asking if there was anything she could do to help you out with the twins,” Lando clarified, “and then said I should bring you three for dinner some day,” and Y/N laughed. 

“You talking to your mum about me, Norris?”

“Is that such a surprise?”

Y/N had to look away in the hopes he wouldn’t see the embarrassment at how earnest he sounded. He chuckled lowly and squeezed her hand.

“Well that’s very kind of her.” She hesitated before adding: “And you.”

“Of course, Cap,” Lando said softly.

“Oh! That reminds me!”

“Yeah?”

“Guess who’s being considered for Captain?”

“At Chelsea?” Lando asked excitedly. Y/N beamed and nodded.

“I mean I’m not sure I’m actually going to accept and-“ Y/N began to ramble, before being cut off entirely.

Lando whooped and dropped her hand. But before she could mourn the loss of contact, his hands were on her hips and he was lifting her up to spin her around. A laugh bubbled up from her and she locked her hands around his neck, desperate for balance. He placed her back down carefully on the ground and they grinned at each other, the moment finally broken by the twins questions.

“You’re sure you're not together?” Haz asked.

“Has something happened?” 

Y/N saw a flash of pain in Lando’s eyes, and Y/N ached with want.

But rather than closing the gap between them further, she cleared her throat awkwardly and stepped out of the safe circle of his arms.

“Jude’s asked me to consider taking over as Captain,” she told them, forcing herself to keep her attention on them and not Lando. Trying to remind herself that remaining just friends was for the best.

2023 (Age 23)

“Is that the Captain of a world cup winning team I see?” Lando’s voice was loud even over the thumping of the music playing in the club. 

Lando was sitting back on a couch in the VIP section of the club - his legs were spread out beneath the table, and he was wearing a white shirt which was only half buttoned up. His eyes were slightly glassy, his hair was a mess, and one hand was clutching a glass that looked on the verge of being spilt.

There were some girls at the table too, one of them clearly vying for Lando’s attention - and Y/N had also recognised several of the other drivers on the grid as she had walked through the club in the search for her friend. Many of them had called out greetings and congratulations to her, recognising her now from the amount of time she had spent with Lando over the years.

The jolt of envy that ran through her from seeing the pretty girls around Lando was quickly extinguished with how her friend’s face had lit up in a bright grin at the sight of her and how he had immediately tried to stand up, knocking into the table in front of him.

Y/N snorted as Lando pushed at the people blocking his exit, and practically fell into her, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink down her back as he hugged her.

“Congratulations!”

“You've already said that,” Y/N reminded him, hugging him back tightly.

“Not in person! You didn’t come to the Paddock,” Lando pulled away with a pout.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N laughed. “Tara wanted to explore and I felt bad just leaving her.”

“She could’ve wanted to explore the Paddock,” Lando huffed, but it was short lived as he grabbed hold of her hand instead and began to pull her through the club.

“She came to the race today with me! Where are you taking me?” 

“To get a drink - you need to catch up!”

“Tara and I had a couple before we got here,” Y/N promised him, though allowed him to continue to lead her through the crowds. 

“Where is Tara? I wanted to say hello.”

“She immediately got waylaid,” Y/N admitted. “I’d be surprised if she makes another appearance tonight.”

“Really? Good for her!” 

“Jealous, Norris?”

Lando turned back to look at her, eyes crinkled with mischief.

“She’s not the footballer I’m interested in.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, but she just laughed at him.

“I never said - but you drove well today,” she said in an attempt to change the subject. She lent against the bar beside him as he ordered on her behalf.

“I didn’t win or anything,” Lando dismissed immediately.

“You still drove well,” Y/N shrugged. 

“You think?” Lando asked, his words more vulnerable than usual. 

“Of course I do,” Y/N responded.

Lando seemed to hesitate for a moment before drawing her into a tight hug again.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Y/N whispered. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”

“Don’t apologise! You’ve been killing it, Cap.”

“I know - I just wish…”

“Yeah… I know,” Lando agreed with a soft smile. “Missing the twins?”

“You have no idea,” Y/N groaned. “They were so mad when I told them they couldn’t come  to the Netherlands to see you. But they stopped complaining as much when I said they’d be staying with your parents.”

Lando took the two glasses being offered to him and handed one off to Y/N, before taking hold of her hand and pulling her back through the crowd towards the table.

“They’re would’ve been welcome,” Lando informed her, squeezing her hand.

“I know,” Y/N agreed, taking a sip of her drink. “But Tara’s been on at me to take some time for myself, you know?”

Lando focused back on her, eyebrows raised in surprise. Y/N squirmed with embarrassment at his considering gaze.

“I’m glad,” he said at last, his smile slowly creeping back across his face.

“Yeah?”

“Course - even if I do miss my personal fan club,” he teased.

“I can’t believe Haz finally changed allegiance,” Y/N groaned. 

“I can’t believe it was Oscar that made her,” Lando laughed. “You have no idea how betrayed I was when she told me.”

“She’d determined she’s going to be his race engineer one day,” Y/N confided. 

“She's wearing Papaya and that’s what’s important.”

“Tony’s always going to be rooting for you, Lan, don’t worry.”

“And every other weekend I get your undying support too, right?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N teased. “The twins are old enough that they want my support anymore - maybe I’ll start wearing red instead?”

Lando downed his drink.

“You want to say that again?”

Y/N bit her lip. She hesitated, then mimicked his action, grimacing a little at the strong aftertaste.

“I’m just saying - I think Charles Leclerc might be my favourite driver on the grid right now.”

“Charles Leclerc had a DNF today,” Lando said, his voice carefully measured.

“It happens to the best drivers,” Y/n shrugged, reaching behind Lando to place the empty cup on the table. Lando did the same, though kept his careful gaze on her.

“Bold words for someone who voiced their support for me on TV today,” Lando said.

“You saw that?” Y/N squeaked, unable to maintain the teasing in the face of the interview she had been drawn into earlier that day. 

Her and Tara had been approached where they had been watching the race, having been recognised from their recent win in Australia. They had just asked a few questions about that last match - some jokes about how they were celebrating the win by coming to the Dutch Grand Prix, and then asked who they would be supporting for the day.

Y/N had answered with Lando’s name without thinking, not really expecting that it would get back to her friend. 

“Of course I did,” Lando chuckled. “And, your brother texted me about it.”

“Little snitch!” 

“It’s called loyalty!” Lando exclaimed. “Which you also showed - so don’t try that shit about being a Ferrari fan!”

“I just don’t want you getting a big head,” Y/N told him. “I’m going to keep you humble right up until you get your World Championship - then I’ll let you start bragging."

“Until? Not if?”

“When you become World Champion,” Y/N confirmed. “Not if.”

Lando bit his lip, then grabbed both of her hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on - we’re going to dance!”

“No! No we’re not!” Y/N immediately argued, half-heartedly trying to pull away from him. Lando just tightened his grip, beaming at her and tugging her into the mass of moving bodies.

“Yes we are!”

“I’m going to need so many more drinks before I start dancing, Lan,” Y/N protested, even as she allowed herself to be pulled. She knew she’d do anything that he asked of her. Anything that would keep that smile on his face.

“That’s something I can manage.”

The next couple of hours passed in a blur - Lando hardly left her side all night, periodically dragging her to the bar for another round of drinks or shots, before pulling her back to the throng of people dancing. Occasionally they would be joined by someone else - Tara made a brief appearance before going home with the woman she had pulled when they first got to the club, and some of Lando’s fellow drivers and their girlfriends would join them every now and then. Once in a while, they would be tugged into a group photo, their fingers laced in most of them, and if that wasn’t the case, then Lando’s arm would be thrown over her shoulder to pull her into his chest.

But by the end of the night, it was just the two of them left.

Three in the morning, and Lando was once more tugging her by the hand to lead her out into the cool night air, having stopped to collect a jacket from the cloakroom along the way.

“Where about are you staying?” He asked, and his voice was hoarse from having been singing along to the songs all night. 

“I’ve got an Air BnB like… fifteen minutes away from here,” Y/N’s voice felt loud in the sudden quiet of the night, but the alcohol still in her system stopped her from caring too much. 

“Let me walk you back?” Lando sounded hopeful.

Y/N gave an over-dramatic sigh, just to hear him laugh again.

“I suppose I’ll allow it.”

They set off down the street, Y/N pulling out her phone to navigate. But she quickly got distracted by the messages on the home screen. The first of which was from Lando’s mum, who had sent her a picture of the twins helping out in the kitchen.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah - just your mum was sending me updates,” Y/N confirmed, angling her phone towards Lando so he could see the picture.

“She was so happy you asked if they could stay with her,” Lando said, swinging their still joined hands.

“She offered first!” Y/N said defensively.

“I know! I was being honest! She was so happy, Cap. She just wanted to help you,” Lando shot her a sly look. “Her and Tara would agree that you need to take some time for yourself.”

Y/N squeezed his hand.

“I’m trying.”

“I’m happy to wait,” Lando told her, answering what she didn’t say.

“I can’t… ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me to do anything.”

“I don’t want you to have to wait, Lan.”

“Sometimes you look at me…” Lando trailed off and shook his head.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismissed. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”

He didn’t let her answer, dropping her hand so that he could instead wrap his jacket around her. Y/N allowed herself to be moved, but when Lando tried to walk on, she snagged her fingers in his shirt and he immediately stilled.

“Tell me.”

“Sometimes you look at me, and I think you’re talking yourself out of it. Like, the wait could be over, but you’re looking for excuses and telling yourself to hold off.”

“Lando-”

“And it’s okay, because I will wait,” he continued, staring at a point over her shoulder. He was still smiling, but it was sadder, more troubled than before. “Of course I will. Until you’ve convinced yourself I’m going to stay, or that I love your siblings as much as I love you-“

“Lan-“ Y/N���s eyes widened at that confession, her heart dropping.

  “And I don’t know, maybe I’m delusional, because I will wait. And being your friend is enough for me. Because I may have started wanting something casual when I first messaged you, but this is so much more to me now. You and the twins - you’re everything to me, Cap.”

“You love me?” Y/N managed to get out. 

When Lando at last met her eyes again, there was no denying the fondness in his expression, and he reached to smooth down some of her hair that had gotten messy in the club.

“How could I not?”

Maybe later, she would blame it on the night. On the atmosphere, of the amount that they’d had to drink, of the fact that she was still riding the high of her World Cup win. Or maybe how he was looking at her, the same way that he always looked at her, only this time she was letting herself see it, and letting herself believe him.

But she surged forwards, reaching up to pull his face down to hers, connecting their lips. Lando made a muffled noise of surprise, but responded quickly, pressing forwards immediately - his hands went to her cheeks to pull her closer, and his tongue swiped across her bottom lip, asking for access.

She opened her mouth for him, and felt one hand drop down to rest on her waist. She allowed her own fingers to tangle in his hair, clutching at the soft strands, desperate to hold onto him. She closed the last minute gap between them, stepping so that she was pressed up against the hard line of his body, and Lando sighed gently at that last piece of contact.

Then, he pulled away, his face dropping to rest in the crook of her neck, his lips pressing gentle kisses to the exposed skin there. Y/N continued to run her fingers through his hair, and she felt his lips turn up in a smile at the sensation.

“Tell me now,” he whispered.

“Tell you what?”

“That this is just another kiss we’re not going to talk about. Tell me now, straight-up so I’m not agonising over it later.”

“I don’t want to,” she admitted in a small voice.

“Yeah?” Lando asked, finally pulling away so that he could meet her eyes. Y/N gave him a wobbly smile.

“I love you too," she managed to get out. “For what it’s worth.”

Lando brushed another kiss against her lips, grinning.

“Everything. It’s worth everything,” then his smile dimmed, his eyes searching hers. “There’s a ‘but’ coming, isn’t there?”

“I can’t… put you first. You deserve someone who can,” Y/N said at last, idly playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

“That’s all?” Lando asked, smile brightening again. “Darling - that’s not news. You’re a sister first, I get that. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

He went to kiss her again, but Y/N ducked away.

“Lando, I’m being serious. I just… I don’t want you to be upset when I have to put them above you. Because they will…” she sighed. “They’re always going to be first to me. And I know that’s not fair to you, which is why-“

“I know,” Lando laughed. “I know that’s why you always pull away. I know they always come first. I know you’re worried about my relationship with them. I know you, Cap. I promise. I know all of it, and I still love you, I still want to be with you, okay?”

“Our dates are going to be crashed all the time,” Y/N warned him. “And I spend half my free-time teaching myself their homework to help them study. And the other half is spent ironing their uniforms.”

“I’ll spend our dates ironing happily.”

“That was not the take-away!” Y/N laughed. Lando kissed her forehead, still grinning.

“You’ve told me you loved me, the rest is just a bonus,” he joked.

“I’m trying to give you an out!”

“I know - I don’t want it,” he responded cheerfully, kissing her again.

“Tomorrow,” Y/N said decisively, pushing him away - not that there was much force behind it.

“What?”

“We’ll talk about it properly tomorrow, when we’re not drunk,” she insisted.

“Promise?” 

“You sound so eager,” she laughed, turning away and reaching for her pocket for her phone.

“I’ve been waiting for this for, like, two years. Since we met in person at least,” Lando promised her, immediately going to tangle their fingers together again.

“For a conversation?” She joked.

“For this conversation,” he agreed.

Y/N bit her lip to try and stop herself from smiling too wide. She would wait to see what sobriety brought, though her instincts were telling her that this was it. That nothing she would say when they woke up would dissuade him. And she was tired of pretending that she wasn’t in love with him, tired of pretending that she didn’t think that her and Lando were endgame.

[twola]

Firewater - Chapter 21

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader. explicit.

Susan Grimshaw was suddenly at your other elbow. “Sit. We need to talk.”

“Oh hell,” you muttered.

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HENNIGAN’S STEAD, NEW AUSTIN, MARCH 1898

It started with you trying to sneak an extra biscuit.

You were halfway to the provisions table, hoping Pearson was too distracted gutting a fish to notice, when Abigail appeared like a damn ghost behind you.

“You got a minute?”

You flinched. “What? Why?”

Susan Grimshaw was suddenly at your other elbow. “Sit. We need to talk.”

“Oh hell,” you muttered.

They herded you — like actual livestock — behind a wagon, where Grimshaw had already set up a crate for you to sit on. You blinked.

“I-I didn’t do anything.”

Abigail just folded her arms. “You did, alright. About six months ago.”

Grimshaw sat with the prim, terrifying posture of a schoolmarm. “You’re getting bigger. Time we had a talk.”

“About what?”

Grimshaw gave you a flat look.

Abigail sighed. “You’re gonna give birth, sweetheart. It's… it’s work. And we’re gonna tell you what to expect.”

You swallowed. “...Is this gonna be bad?”

Grimshaw sniffed. “Have you ever tried to push a honeydew melon out your cunt?”

Your soul left your body.

Abigail nodded. “It’s like that. Except the melon’s alive and movin’ and usually turnin’ the wrong way at the worst possible time.”

“Oh my God-”

“You’ll scream,” Grimshaw said matter-of-factly. “And bleed. And you may shit yourself.”

Abigail held your shoulder and added, “Not always, but it’s best to be prepared for it. And someone’s probably gonna have to hold your leg back while you push. You’ll think you’re gonna die. You won’t.”

“Probably,” Susan said.

“Oh, wonderful,” you croaked.

“And contractions,” Abigail went on, “they’ll start off like cramps. You’ll think, This ain’t so bad. Then they’ll get worse. Like, bite-down-on-a-rope worse. And they’ll come faster, like they’re trying to kill you in waves.”

“And if your water breaks before the midwife gets here,” Grimshaw added, “make sure you don’t sit anywhere with upholstery.”

“We don’t have any upholstery!” you snapped.

“Well, good. We learned our lesson with Abigail then.” She pulled out a fan from God-knows-where and began fluttering it. “When the real labor starts, you’ll want to squat, or get on all fours, or throw a punch. Don’t let Morgan stand behind you… he’ll faint.”

“I won’t,” you muttered. “I think.”

Abigail narrowed her eyes. “You say that now. But once the head starts showing? That man’s gonna lose it. And then there is the possible tearing....”

You clapped your hands over your ears. “Nope. No. Absolutely not.”

“Sweetheart,” Grimshaw said with brutal cheerfulness, “it’s better you know. It’s like rippin’ your own britches seam out from the inside.”

“Why are you telling me this?!”

“Because if nobody told me,” Abigail said, “I might’ve run into the woods and given birth like a squirrel. And Susan caught my afterbirth in an old stew pot. So. We’re doin’ you a favor.”

You stared at them, horrified. “This is not a favor.”

Abigail patted your arm. “Just breathe when it starts. Deep in through your nose. Don’t panic.”

“And for God’s sake, don’t let Morgan try to be helpful unless he’s boiling water or holding your damn hand,” Grimshaw said. “And make sure someone has fresh linen for the baby, a blanket for you, and whiskey for everyone.”

You just sat there, pale, clutching your biscuit like it was the last joy in the world.

“...Can I go now?” you whispered.

Abigail and Grimshaw exchanged a satisfied look.

“I think she’s ready,” Abigail said.

“For the talk,” Grimshaw clarified. “Not the birth. That’ll break her.”

“Fantastic,” you muttered, already planning to find Arthur and throttle him.

Maybe you had been insatiable these last few weeks.

But now?

Now, all you wanted was to shove a pillow between your thighs and never be touched again.

-

Arthur wandered up the path from the creek with a couple of rabbits slung over his shoulder, still damp from cleaning. He was humming, relaxed, blissfully unaware that you had just been emotionally waterboarded behind a wagon by two women with absolutely no filter.

He spotted you first, sitting frozen on a crate, a cold biscuit in one hand, your face blank with trauma.

He stopped. Brows furrowed.

“You alright?”

You blinked at him.

Then blinked again.

Then slowly turned to face him, voice flat as a plank. “Did you know it’s like pushing a melon out?”

Arthur tilted his head. “I mean… I reckon?”

“Out of my cunt, Arthur.”

“…Alright.”

“And I might shit myself.”

Arthur dropped the rabbits.

“What the hell-?”

Abigail leaned around from behind the wagon, smug as a cat with cream. “She’s learnin’ what’s ahead.”

Grimshaw joined her, sipping from a tin cup like she hadn’t just shattered your spirit. “Don’t worry, Mister Morgan. We told her not to let you look when the crowning starts. Don’t need you passin’ out and cracking your skull.”

Arthur blinked. “I-I wasn’t plannin’ on…what the hell’s a crowning?”

“I need you,” you interrupted, standing slowly, with the grace and rage of a woman on the edge, “to come here. Right now.”

He stepped forward cautiously, hands raised as if you were holding a weapon.

You stepped into his space. Stared him in the eyes. Then reached up and grabbed a handful of his shirt.

“Arthur,” you whispered, “if you ever put a child in me again, I’m gonna knock you clean out with Pearson’s stew pot.”

He blinked.

“Then I’m gonna tie your ankles to a horse and drag you behind it across the damn state while shouting every detail they just told me.”

His mouth opened. Then closed. “…Is this about the melon thing?” he asked warily.

“Yes, Arthur,” You pointed at Abigail and Susan, who looked extremely satisfied with themselves. “They ambushed me.”

Grimshaw lifted her cup. “We call it preparation.”

Arthur slowly, very gently, reached out and took your biscuit from your hand. “I’ll go get you another one. And maybe some tea.”

“Get whiskey.”

He hesitated.

“Arthur.”

“Right. Whiskey.”

He turned to go, muttering something about stew pots and demons and “Jesus Christ, Susan.”

You sat back down on the crate, arms crossed over your belly, scowling like the world had personally wronged you.

Grimshaw patted your shoulder.

“You’ll do fine, sweetheart.”

“I’m not speaking to either of you again until the baby’s walking,” you muttered.

Abigail just smiled. “You say that now. Wait till your water breaks on Arthur’s cot.”

You gave them both a murderous glare.

And then, despite yourself, you laughed.

Because, horrifying as it was, you couldn’t imagine going through it without women like them around you.

Even if they did describe childbirth like a battlefield.

–

That night, you were lying stiffly on Arthur’s cot, wrapped in a blanket and not speaking. Not reading. Not sewing. Just lying there, eyes pointed at the ceiling like you were seeing the face of God and He was deeply disappointing.

Arthur ducked into the tent, his boots scuffing the canvas.

You didn’t look at him.

He held something in both hands — a small cup of tea and a flask, which he hesitantly held out.

“I… uh… I brought whiskey… tea,” he offered. “Sorta both.”

You didn’t move.

“I also told Abigail not to talk to you again unless it was about biscuits.”

Nothing.

Arthur sighed and set the cup down. Then, slowly, he sat on the edge of the cot and rubbed a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t know it was gonna be… all that. Thought it was mostly just pushin’ and swearin’. Maybe cryin’ a bit.”

Your eyes slowly slid over to him. “Melon, Arthur.”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly. “That part got me too.”

“And tearing.”

Arthur went pale. “Okay let’s…let’s maybe not go over it again.”

You sat up slowly. “And there’s afterbirth.”

Arthur stared at you like you'd just told him he’d have to fight it.

“There’s a second birth?” he whispered.

You nodded solemnly.

Arthur made a small choked noise and ran both hands down his face.

Then he turned to you, all serious now, like he was trying to get this right.

“Listen,” he said. “I ain’t real smart about this stuff. Never seen it, and I damn sure never talked about it. But I know this-” he reached out and took your hand, lacing your fingers together, rough and warm, “you ain’t gonna do it alone. Not for a minute.”

You watched him carefully.

“I’ll be there,” he went on. “Right there beside you, even if you scream at me or tell me to go to hell. I’ll hold your hand, just like I am now.”

His thumb stroked across your knuckles.

“And I swear, I won’t look at your cunt… Not unless you ask me to.”

You snorted, just once, but it cracked the tension in your chest.

Arthur brightened.

“I’ll even hold a towel,” he added. “Or boil water. Or… or punch Dutch if he says anything dumb.”

Your smile widened, a little helplessly. “You’d punch Dutch?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You leaned against him, burying your face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you, protective and gentle, pressing a kiss into your hair.

For a long moment, you just breathed.

And then, muffled into his neck, you murmured, “You’re still never getting me pregnant again.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Pause.

“But y’know…”

You pulled back and gave him a sharp look.

He held up both hands. “Just sayin’! I like the part that gets us there.”

You groaned and shoved him onto his back, flopping on top of him hip-first with a muffled oof.

He laughed, winded, holding you close anyway.

[anonymous-dentist]

Yes, yes it is, because King Bad takes one look at Lukey and immediately declares, “Pangi, he’s one of yours.”

Lukey somehow manages to both pale from fear and go red in indignation. “Excuse me!?”

Pangi asks the same question at the same time, because hello???? What are we saying???

King Bad nods. “Mhm. You can’t just expect to waltz in here and become a proper demon, even if you are a fallen angel. I need to know you’re worth keeping alive, so!”

He claps his hands together in cruel glee. “To prove your worth and your loyalty, you’re going to follow Pangi around for the next ten thousand years and make sure he finally locks in and does his duties.”

Oh no

“A servant?” Lukey complains, disappointment written all over his stupid face. “Really?”

“Yeah, really?” Pangi asks, throwing this poor dude a bone. “I’m literally always locked in, you know this.”

Bad taps his chin. “Well, I suppose that you could spend ten thousand years in the dungeons instead… Hannah has been looking for some fresh meat…”

Pangi, a demon, shudders at the thought. He loves Hannah, but wow, she can be scary…

Lukey grimaces. “I guess I’ll be a servant, then.”

“Great!” Bad cheers, dark leathery wings flapping happily behind him and knocking over a rack of Pangi’s least favorite spears. “Pangi, he’s all yours.”

In which Pangi, the Crown Prince of Hell, is having a lovely stroll near his favorite lava river when some fucking guy falls out of the sky and lands right on him. He’s in all white, completely unconscious with a faint purple tinge to his skin

This dude is dead, which wouldn’t be as crazy as it is if it wasn’t for the fact that Pangi is like 99% sure that he’s a fallen fucking angel

With nothing better to do, Pangi hikes the angel over his shoulder and start bringing him to his place. Cause it’s either this or his, ew, j*b, so yeah

[nosleep83]

MIKEY IN THIS SCENE I LOVE HIM SM ATSHSJAGSBJS

[chososcutie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ HONEYMOON OR BUST ⸝⸝ .ᐟ⋆

pairing ── satoru gojo x reader

teaser ── after being forced into an arranged marriage, you're expected to have heirs, with a husband who hates you! will a honeymoon that leaves you stuck with him in a snowy cabin for a week filled with awkward moments and charged tension change that? or will it reveal the harsh reality of the cold, loveless marriage you've been forced into?

content ── fem!reader, angsty ending, spitting, degrading, rough fucking, hate sex, forced proximity, masturbation, fingering, breeding kink, oral (fem!recieving), teasing, pregnancy, mention of cheating, thigh fucking, pussy slapping, slight misogyny, name-calling, one bed troupe, accidental indecency, enemies-to-lovers

count ── 8k

PART I

heirs.

the word lingers in your mind as the banquet ends, as you walk out in your too-tight wedding dress, even as the carriage comes that was to take you to your honeymoon.

it wasn't fair.

they had never told you that this was expectation.

not only had the monarchy stolen your life, your future, your dreams, but now they were forcing you into a mother?

your face darkens, shadowed by the veil, as you walk beside your husband, the send-off for the honeymoon commencing.

"long live the king!"

"may the crown forever be bound upon your brows!"

"may god bless you with a fruitful womb!"

next to you, satoru's jaw tightens ever so slightly, his haunting silence, coupled with his formal white robes sweeping behind him giving him a ghost-like illusion.

you didn't know what he was thinking, but at least you knew he had been out of the loop too, judging by his cold expression.

from the sounds and looks everyone around you were giving however, you knew that they were assuming you were both just itching to rip off each other's clothes and consummate the marriage, but you didn't even know if you could stomach to look at him let alone touch him, and from the storm brewing in his cerulean blue eyes, glinting with something dangerous that warned not to be messed with, you sensed he felt much of the same.

you're snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of hoofbeats and a heavy, latched door creaking open halfway, revealing the mode of transportation you were to take.

and oh, was it a sight to behold.

fully decked out in lace, satiny curtains draping over the windows, it was painted a pinkish rose gold and pearly white hue, adorned with golden wheels that seemed to swell under the light of the fading twilight sky.

it was a love carriage, meant to bring feelings of romance and tension into the air, perfect for a couple heading to their honeymoon.

but unfortunately for you, however, this arrangement was anything but romantic.

the terse quietness between the two of you only thickens tenfold once the doors slam shut behind you, the loud clapping and cheering of the people watching you two abruptly cutting off as you're left alone together for the first time that night.

and for a long moment, no one speaks.

but just as you think you’re in the clear, starting to relax into the seat, you hear satoru's hollow voice, tinged with bitterness as he continues looking straight ahead. "did you know?"

you quickly turn to face him, shock creeping its way into your words. "how could i have known? i told you that i didn't want this either but you seem to believe it's all my fault."

“i never said that.” he says dryly.

you both lapse into silence once more, your hands curled into neat fists in your lap while satoru sits stiffly, back straight as a board.

the nerve of this man. for him to assume you wanted this marriage, that you wanted his kids, that you even wanted to be queen.

you shook slightly beside him, infuriated and wondering how you were ever going to get through this cursed honeymoon.

from the bits and pieces of this arrangement you had been made aware of, it was to take place in a distant, secluded cabin, decked out with a master suite and hot tub, in a mountainous taiga.

when you thought of an ideal honeymoon, you had always dreamed of going somewhere faraway and warm, a nice contrast to your own dreary kingdom with its blustery weather and snowcapped peaks. but that, along with everything else in your life, had been stolen from you, snatched out of your control and decided for you.

just like him.

you look over to satoru again, only to find him as far from you as possible, sulking while he stares out the window pointedly. his arms are folded across his silky white monarch robes, the contrast between his royal lineage and childish antics almost jolting.

finally, a couple hours later, you arrive at your secluded honeymoon estate: a big wooden framed cabin with high cobblestone chimneys, with a roof topped in powdery white, and heavy log walls awaiting you both.

the idea was to have a completely deserted, isolated cottage in the middle of the woods all to yourselves so you can focus on.. indulging in each other, and sealing the marriage forevermore so to speak.

and it was half working so far because the second the carriage set off again back the way it came, it was just you and satoru.

alone.

together.

"i.." you begin uncertainly, but he quickly interrupts, voice brisk and cold.

"you take the left side rooms, and i’ll remain on the right. over the duration of this week you are not to bother me, until i decide fit." he says crisply, before walking away from you toward the estate, his robes swishing behind him.

oh. so that was how it was going to be?

you stare after him for a moment, hurt creeping into your senses for a brief second before you shake it off. just when you had thought you two were finally getting to have an understanding of each other...

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ── DAY ONE ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰

on first sight, the cabin looks large, at least enough to fit two people and still be spacious, but the truth was the inside was tiny. cramped, even.

the second you enter, you’re instantly slapped in the face with the heady scent of loud, sensual perfume and rose petals making a pathway across the planked wooden floor.

irritatedly, satoru ducks his head through the doorway. he was too tall to even fit!

“well.” his gaze sweeps around, making mental notes of what your arrangements would be. “it seems to be.. smaller than i imagined.”

it was a three-room cabin to be exact, with a bed, a bathroom, and a cramped kitchen. the only saving grace was the bubbling, frothing hot tub outside with more rose petals decorating the top along with two flutes of champagne set beside it romantically.

“let’s see how big the bed is..” his broad frame disappears into the room, with you following suit as you take in the obnoxiously overdone romantic setting.

there’s candles, dimmed lights, the works. it was like they were begging you to fuck each other.

the bedroom was even worse.

a king size, with curtains draping over everything dramatically, it was a sight in itself, maroon red covers highlighting the seductiveness of the room.

“looks like we’re sharing a bed again.” you come behind him, trying to suppress the scorn in your voice unsuccessfully, watching as his shoulders tense in agitation.

“they told me it was bigger..” he mumbles, eyebrows furrowing with a scowl.

with a small sigh, you flop onto the bed, your overly exuberant wedding dress you were still wearing billowing around you, and lifting up slightly.

you didn’t realize how much however, until you hear satoru’s soft inhale of breath and look down to see your delicate lace garter exposed, wrapped on your plush thigh with a pretty white bow.

you had forgotten your wedding dressers had made you wear one for the purposes of tradition, and you had relented solely because of the fact you were certain that, garter or no garter, satoru would not touch you either way.

noticing his visible reaction, you can’t help the urge to sling your leg further upward to reveal more of your tantalizing skin, his eyes devouring every inch you offer him.

before you can go any further however, he reaches for you, warm calloused hands skimming across your skin, and igniting a fire low in your stomach as he pulls the poofy tulle of your skirt down to cover you again. his hands linger for a moment longer than necessary before he draws back, a firm little scowl gracing his pink lips.

“it's not ladylike to showcase yourself off like a slut, princess. didn’t your kingdom teach you that?”

he spits 'kingdom' out like a foul tasting word, not giving you the chance to respond before departing again, the bathroom door slamming closed behind him.

the second he leaves, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, the ghost of his searing touch still fresh in your mind as you lay back against the covers, eyes wide.

later, as you're tucking yourself into bed after changing out of your stuffy wedding clothes, satoru finally reappears.

his hair is sticking up in wet little spikes, and he’s wearing a baggy shirt and sweatpants. leaning against the doorway with his hands folded across his chest, he's the epitome of effortless beauty.

"god, so eager to be in bed with me already, hm?" he tilts his head at you, sharp blue eyes boring into yours, his tone cruel and mocking.

you scoff, turning on your side to face away from him. "yeah, you wish."

he hums softly in disagreement, before the mattress dips under his weight as he slides in to bed next to you.

with all the lights off, and flickering candles casting the room in a warm glow, the moment becomes more intimate, the press of his body to your back causing you to become sleepy beneath the covers.

pathetic, you think to yourself ruefully.

you should hate the man for everything he had said and done, but all you seem to do is just let him have his way, complying like the good little wifey you’ve been reduced to.

but before you have time to further evaluate and let shame overwhelm you, you begin to drift off, the promise of dark surrender claiming you.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ── DAY TWO ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰

when you wake up in the morning, the bed is empty with nothing but rumpled sheets left in satoru's place, and after eating some breakfast, you decide now is as good a time as any to take some time to yourself, and try out the hot, new bubbling jacuzzi in all its glory, before he gets back.

luckily, along with the cottage you were staying at, clothes and swimsuits had been provided, curtesy of the royal family, and should be in the drawer right.. there!

"aha!" triumphantly, your fingers feel the stretchy elastic texture of a bathing suit, pulling it out only for your eyes to practically pop out of your head at the sight before you; a matching white tiny tube bikini top, paired with minuscule thong bottoms.

"no no.." you murmur under your breath, quickly rifling through the drawer for other options, but of course, that's the only bikini there is.

you sigh to yourself. naturally, your tits were going to be popping out of this top, and your ass would be exposed, but you would just have to make it work.

squeezing into it proved to be a bit of a challenge as they obviously hadn't taken your sizing into consideration, but you manage to do it with minimal cleavage being pushed up though more than you would like.

and finally, finally, you get inside the jacuzzi, the water steaming hot and bubbling, your head lolling back with pleasure as the jets do their work.

"ughh, this is just what i needed after.. satoru?"

you startle as you see the familiar white-haired man standing in front of you, widened azure eyes taking in the way you're sprawled in the hot tub, foam surrounding you in your skimpy little bikini and leaving practically nothing to the imagination.

instinctively, you slink down into the water, hoping he can't see you too well.

"can’t a girl enjoy herself alone? i’m trying out the jacuzzi."

his eyes rove over you intensely, expression unreadable. "your tits are out."

after a moment of silence where you clear your throat awkwardly and shift, he doesn't get the hint, brazenly going on. "hah.. but you knew that, right? you probably want me to look at you, yeah? show off those pretty breasts because they're all you have to offer.."

"oh just shut up! leave for god's sake!" you growl, teeth gritted so tight you're surprised they don't crack.

but instead of relenting, his brows furrow, as if contemplating something.

“hold on, i think i have a swimsuit too..”

that led to a few minutes later when a very shirtless satoru, wearing swim trunks that look a size too tight, slides in beside you.

you try to look anywhere but his muscular chest, but it proves difficult with the way his arms reach up around his head, biceps prominent and pale pink nipples tantalizingly close to your face.

instantly as he gets in, his shorts plaster themselves like a second skin to his muscular thighs, revealing a very big bulge straining against the fabric, the sight so erotic your cheeks flush as you look away.

he sighs softly while the steaming hot water laps around his body, tilting his head to look at you. “so about that swimsuit.. is skimpy the look you're going for, or do you enjoy whoring yourself out..?"

you wave him off with a scoff. “yeah, yeah. you're the one wearing speedos.”

satoru moves slightly at that, shifting into a manspread, with his hips lifting up and his cock so noticeably outlined, you can’t help it when naturally your eyes are drawn toward him, mouth going dry at his pure size. you only manage to tear yourself away when you hear his soft hum of amusement next to you.

"well clearly you like it, you dirty little slut."

guiltily, you glance up, about to stutter for a response when his eyes search yours, heat swirling in them for a second as his lips hover over yours.

just a little closer and..

“are your nipples always this hard or is it just for me?” smugly, he glowers at you and with a horrified glance down, you find he’s right, your nipples pebbled and standing at attention, almost see-through in your flimsy excuse of a swimsuit.

you quickly get up, water rolling off your sheened body, glaring daggers at satoru. screaming out a “shut up perv!” before disappearing back into the house, satoru watching your ass jiggle in the tiny microthong you had on with curved lips and a growing boner.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ── DAY THREE ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰

after yesterday’s disaster of a tranquil time in the jacuzzi, you decided today that you would take advantage of the wintry landscape you had become stranded in, and hike through the taiga trees alone.

it hadn’t seemed like a bad idea at first, it’d do you good to get out of the house and away from that royal pain-in-the ass, but now two miles in, frozen cold, shivering, and more than a little lost, the idea wasn’t as appealing.

"f-fuck.." you shudder, blowing on your hands and rubbing them together while peering around at the haze of trees, each so similar you can't tell if you've been walking in circles this whole time or not. "s-so c-cold.."

and then, just as you go to step, twigs cracking underfoot, your ankle twists, your heart dropping as you hear a snap! before pain washes over your entire leg, and you tumble down onto the icy ground, everything going black.

── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・

when you regain consciousness again, you feel yourself being jerked and jostled around, still heavily disoriented.

you're moving, you realize, and someone is holding you, a toned chest radiating heat pressed firmly against you, along with arms looped underneath your legs, carrying you bridal style.

he huffs softly in your ear, and instantly, you recognize his breathing patterns from the nights you had spent in the same bed.

satoru.

for a second, you let yourself slump into his tight grip, your leg aching, and eyes half-closed, but then the hand he's using to support underneath your legs tightens, squeezing you, and you feel your breath stutter.

“i know you’re awake.”

dropping the act, you blink your eyes open to stare at his looming figure. how did he find you? when you hadn’t returned, had he been worried about.. you?

“don’t read too much into it.” he says gruffly, shifting you in his arms as he opens the door to the cabin, and carries you to the bedroom to lay you gently down.

“now where does it hurt?”

you sniffle, trying to sit up to show him, but quickly he pushes you back to lay down, his hand splaying across your chest and shoving roughly, the action almost provocative.

“words.”

“m-my ankle. i think i twisted it, and when i fell, i heard a snap.”

his gaze is focused on your foot, and he nods, before holding it up to examine.

“it doesn’t look broken. i’ll get some ice and wrap it, but it’s probably just a sprain.”

he stands up, but before he can leave, you grip onto his sleeve, stopping him. he looks back, eyes raking over your face.

“hey. thank you, for saving me.”

his eyes linger on your lips for a second before he turns back around. “it was nothing.”

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ── DAY FOUR ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰

with your sore ankle, you hadn’t been able to move around as much, and as a result, had been cooped up in the stuffy cabin with satoru, his habits getting increasingly more and more annoying as the hours went on.

"sa-toru! put the fuckin' toilet seat down, damnit!"

you hear his voice lilted with mockery as he calls back, "oh my, what a filthy mouth you’ve got on you.."

you want to slap him. you're going to slap him.

in an effort to calm yourself, and keep yourself occupied, you decide to take a bath, thinking the hot water will soothe your violent urges, and your achey ankle.

a few minutes pass, with you wallowing in tepid water, cold and wet, and with a frustrated groan, you get up, realizing this isn’t helping. silken droplets roll off you in beads, as you prepare to grab a towel when suddenly..

creeeeak!

"you wanna take a little longer? c’mon some of us gotta..”

satoru stops in his tracks, head poking through the door when he spots you, completely naked, your body dripping wet and glistening. his blue eyes immediately rake up n’ down, and you swear his pants grow bigger, heat rising to his cheeks.

“satoru! i’m.. get out!”

your hands fly to cover yourself, while he’s left checking you out shamelessly, practically drooling as he eyes you like a dog in heat.

“get! ouuuut!” you slam the door in his face before slumping down, staring in disbelief as your hands slowly fall to your sides.

oh. my. god.

this man really was going to kill you.

── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・

you realized that in your marriage, you would have to see each other intimately eventually, especially now that you were expected to have heirs, but it was still so unexpected for him to barge in on you like that..

you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment at the memory as you lie in bed, waiting for satoru to come to your shared room, and poke fun at you.

but.. the moment never comes as seconds stretch into minutes and then to hours, and darkness steadily overtakes the room.

maybe he had finally decided to sleep on the couch..

huh. you turn over, eyes beginning to droop in the quietness of night. oh well. at least you had the bed to yourself!

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ── DAY FIVE ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰

two big, calloused hands come to your plush thighs, pushing them apart with a soft sigh, already fucked out just by the sight of your drenched pussy, glistening with strings of your slick arousal running down between your legs.

he murmurs something too low for you to hear, before two thick fingers come to glide over the slippery sheen of your cunt, causing your hips to buck up instinctively, the space between your thighs widening. he obediently lowers his head before nuzzling it between you, and staring up at you with big azure eyes that practically beg for you to let him eat your pussy.

“toru..” you manage to breathe out through small heaves, and that’s all it takes for his hot, slithery tongue to run up your folds before beginning to lap sloppily at your pulsing core, uncaring of the pools of spit and drool he’s leaving in his wake.

“hah.. s-shit, slow down..” you whine, eyes scrunched closed tightly at the foreign feeling, and building heat in your abdomen. no one had ever touched you like this before.

encouraged, his head presses further into you, soft mussed hair tickling you as his nose bumps your clit with every kitten lick on your throbbing nub, until you feel hot all over, and a weird sensation fluttering around in your stomach.

you feel satoru moan into you, hands coming to your hips to press you harder into his eager mouth as you grind your pussy sloppily on his face, chasing the feeling of the very tips of white pleasure starting to blacken the edges of your vision.

your walls clench as his tongue pushes in to you, before he pulls back, smacking his lips together and taking your puffy bud into his mouth and sucking hard, groaning out at your sweet candied taste.

your mouth drops open, a hoarse moan spilling out as your legs tighten around his head, and then you’re cumming harder than you ever have.

── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・

you tear your covers off, body covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, and panting heavily, your panties absolutely soaked through.

a wet dream. you had just had a wet dream about satoru.

fuck.

you slowly swing your feet from the bed, placing them down gingerly on the creaking floorboards, praying he wasn’t up.

you needed to clean yourself up after the embarrassing mess you had just made, so you head to the bathroom, being as quiet as possible.

and just when you think you're in the clear, pushing the slightly ajar bathroom door to open wider..

plap! plap! plap!

satoru, in all his glory stands before the mirror, head tilted back and panting softly with his tongue lolling out of his mouth and a hand wrapped tightly around his cock, stroking himself off furiously.

and the first thing you think is that he’s huung. absolutely enormous, his reddened length twitching and oozing with sheens of glossy precum dripping all over his hand and down his wrist, veins thump thumping! an erratic tempo as you watch his throat bob in a swallow.

he must already be close, judging by the soft grunts he's letting out and the increasingly filthy noises his hot, pulsing member makes as his hips thrust in and out of his hand, fat cock just weeping with syrupy slick.

schlick! schlick!

in fact, he's juuust about to cum, his breath picking up speed as his thrusts get sloppier, squeezing his veiny base hard when you finally speak.

“satoru.”

that single breath of his name is all it takes to finally snap his attention toward where you’re staring at him, his cerulean eyes widening as his hand instantly stills.

but it’s too late.

his drooling slit is already gushing ribbons n' ribbons of hot, sweltering seed, oozing out in creamy little pulses as he shudders, trying to fight it even as his eyes roll back and his hips twitch pathetically.

his half-lidded eyes make their way over to you, and the sight of him is almost pornographic: muscular hulking frame with splatterings of cum pooling all over his abdominals, and seemingly endless spurts of his load continuously spilling out of the reddish divot on his thickened tip.

it's then that you're finally able to make yourself move, tearing yourself out of your trance as you slam the door hard, sprinting away to anywhere but where he is.

── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・

you don’t see satoru for the whole rest of the day.

at least, not until it starts snowing, and snowing hard.

a blizzard, would be the only way to describe it, as flurries of icy white swirl around in frenzies, the snow on your door piling up inch by inch, until at least a foot blocks the doorway.

of course, satoru finally reappears right before the snowing worsens, and the weather condition becomes severe.

you swallow thickly, looking up at his impassable face, wondering what you're going to say to break the silent tension before suddenly..

BZZZT!

the lights flicker, before shutting off entirely, leaving you both in utter pitch-black with the snowfall steadily increasing outside, raging against your windows with growing intensity.

the electricity.

“shit..” you breathe, the darkness discombobulating you as you try to find yourself, hands waving around only to encounter something thick and hot, jumping beneath your touch, and an involuntary noise caught between a groan and a whimper leaving satoru’s mouth.

oh god.

“that was my-”

“yep got it..”

before he can say more, you start walking away, cheeks burning and glad that he at least couldn’t see your face in the dark.

you needed to fix the electricity before you could worry about satoru, and so you try to make your way toward where you knew the power box was located, stumbling and tripping as minimally as you could manage.

just as you think you’re about to make it though, your head knocks hard against someone else’s, practically rattling your teeth with the force of it.

“oh my god, try and be a little more careful, why don’t you? fuck.” comes a slightly raspy baritone, as familiar as it was infuriating.

“satoru? uungh ow..” you rub your head sorely for a few seconds, before starting to place your hands around to locate the circuit breaker.

“what do you think you're doing?” his hands brush yours for a second as he reaches across you to start fiddling with the panel you had just found.

“fixing our electricity, how about you?”

he chuckles, the sound condescending. “just back up, let me take care of this. it’s a man’s job after all. you probably don’t even know what a fuse looks like.”

your jaw drops open. “you misogynistic fucker. you’re saying that because i’m a woman, i can’t do it?”

“no, i’m saying that a prissy little bimbo like you can’t do it. that has nothing to do with women.” he opens the panel with ease, arms casually stretched around you as he works.

you’re practically shaking with anger now at his almost constant undermining remarks of your stature and capabilities. it was all getting to be too much.

unaware of your oncoming rage, his hand feels around inside before you hear the soft flick! of a switch, and the lights turn back on.

satoru turns to you, mouth smugly curved up as he mock-dusts his hands. “easy-peasy.”

you’re on him in a heartbeat, face inches from his as you curl your hand around the collar of his shirt, pushing him hard against the wiry boxes and circuits littering the walls. “why are you so determined to treat me like some commonplace whore who can’t even separate her right hand from her left? why can’t you treat me like a person? i’m your wife for god’s sake, you’re supposed to have heirs with me and lead this kingdom to prosperity at my side, and you can’t even let me flick a goddamn switch?!”

he pauses, and it surprises you when you feel his chest shaking beneath your palms, mouth wide and laughing, almost maniacally. “god. why does everyone keep talking about heirs?”

you swallow, watching him go on, giggling with hysterics, the sound almost chilling.

his head slowly falls back, looking at you then, crystalline eyes wide with something dangerous and rough glinting in his pupils.

“they want heirs, huh? let’s give it to them then, sweetheart.”

you gasp as in an instant, he has you against a table, flipping you effortlessly as his hot, pulsing cock presses up against your ass, his hips rolling forward with a small groan.

you can’t help the way you buck back into him, body begging for more as your breathing increases and your core pulses with need.

“you like that, huh? heh.. fighting so hard to say you’re not a whore yet you melt at the slightest touch..”

“oh s-shut up.” you grit out as his grinding increases, clearly getting more n’ more worked up by your arguing. “you’re the one who.. ah.. was jerking off.. ngh.”

he growls at that, forcing your head back with a sharp tug to your hair. “that’s just a natural physical form of release. was just a bit.. hnngh.. pent up, is all.”

you arch your back and tantalizingly begin to sway your ass against his throbbing boner, his head tipping back with a hoarse grunt. "you're sure it wasn't a coincidence that you just happened to see me naked before that?"

his hot breath huffs against you as he humps into you with fervor, grabby hands making their way to your hips to pull you harshly against him, forcing you to bend over more as his fat cock nestles into your clothed cunt. "j-just shut up, and take off your pants.."

without wasting another second, your fingers hook in the waistband, shoving them off you as you let clothing pool to the ground before shifting to widen your legs.

“fuck, you’re dripping princess..” he moans softly as his thick fingers come to dip inside your panties, smearing globs of your sloshing slick around.

you whine, trying to move yourself back into him for more but he quickly pulls his slender digits out, popping them into his mouth and sucking your essence off with a groan.

“oh c’mon, just fuck me already!” you pant, getting impatient as you curl your fists tightly around the edge of the table.

“stupid.. hah.. kingdom forcing me to marry a fuckin’ brat..”

you mewl then as you feel him coming to wedge his hot, weighty shaft pulsing and throbbing against you bare, his soft breaths becoming sharper in your ear as he slathers his oozing, slippery sheens of glossy precum on you.

“they wan’ a heir so bad, i’ll give ‘em a heir.. now, open those slutty legs..” he whispers roughly, sounding strained and desperate as his hand snakes between your thighs to part them enough to slide his cock in between, slowly fucking into your tantalizingly plush skin.

and then, you’re gasping for breath, your body feverish as his thickened, angry mushroom head is bumpin’ hard against your pussy, causing you to clench around nothing.

chuckling hoarsely, he grips his weeping length tightly before roughly slapping it against your cunt, again n’ again until you’re practically sobbing, “please, sa-toru! god, ngh.. put it in, put it in..!”

teasingly, he swipes his thickened cock head against your entrance, collecting your generous slick, before pushing juuust the tip in, enough for your walls to tighten harshly in an attempt to suck him in further but to no avail.

“you ready to give the crown a baby? yeah?” his hand comes to wrap tightly around your throat, almost choking you as he purrs into your ear. “gonna be all pregnant swollen up with my kid? these pretty tits filled with milk?”

for emphasis, his other hand roughly grabs at your breast, squeezing tightly, and making you cry out, bucking back into him.

"yes! just.. give it to me 'toru fuck!"

he snickers, and then, in one harsh, ruthless thrust, buries himself to the hilt deep inside you, until his tip is pressed up right against your cervix, and heavy, twitchy balls slap your ass with his sheer force.

your tight, gummy walls instantly clamp hard around him in welcome as you practically scream, clawing at the table desperately.

"yeahh sweetheart, milk me dry.. you want this fuckin' baby, don'tcha?" he reels back his hips, before harshly plowing into you, the slap! of skin against skin echoing as his brutal pace makes your mind go blank, eyes half-lidded and jaw slacken with drool seeping from the corners. you were already cock-drunk!

his nasty hips only grow rockier as you pant out a dazed, "toru.. hnngh!" and he quickly reaches a hand to pull back your head, tapping on your cheek meanly. "open."

you do, and his eyes flicker before he leans forward to spit a heavy wad of hot, pooling saliva into your awaiting mouth, watching with satisfaction as you swallow instinctively.

you feel his hands reach down, both of them curling around your stomach to hold you steady, as he heaves out a, "ohh-h, i'm.. ah.. allll the way in here."

his palm slides to your abdominals, just above your belly button, where the veiny outline of his girthy cock is barely visible, disappearing and reappearing obscenely with every punctuated thrust.

his curved dick hits directly into your cushy, sweet spot and you can't help but squeal, trying to both grind on him and move away from the huge, twitching member absolutely ruining your insides.

"stop.. hnngh.. squirming!" satoru's eyes are rolled all the way back in his head as he continues to hit even deeper into your poor, abused cunt, landing a sharp smack! on your twitchy clit, your pouty sheened lips opening in a small o'.

he rocks himself steadily into you, before you're sobbing out so brokenly, your tummy knotting tighter n' tighter until achingly you register the way you're cumming and cumming hard, so much slick gushing out of you, the force of it pushes satoru's cock back a few inches, small heaving gasps coming from you as your vision turns black and spotty.

he groans then, cerulean eyes peering so hazily at the messy sight laid before him as sloppily, his pace is increasing with an almost primal kind of need, his textured, washboard abs bumping against your back while he mashes his thickened tip into your cervix repeatedly.

and then, you feel him shudder behind you, dragging his hefty, swollen cock languidly deeper into your pulsating walls, as loads n' loads of sweltering hot, glossy white seed are oozing steadily into you, so much of it that it's pooling below you, your overspilling cunt gaping as it trickles down between your thighs.

"take it, take it all.." he's heaving out from behind you, hands coming to splay out on the table in front of you as he pushes his hips experimentally forward, watching the way more creamy filth instantly sloshes down your legs.

and then, he's spinning you around and lifting you by the hips to lay flat against the table, roughly shoving your legs up by your head, heavy cock still oh so hard and swollen inside of you.

growling a sultry, "damn kingdom wants me to fuck a baby into you so bad then that's what they're gonna get.."

⊱ ׅ ۫ ׅ✧ ── DAY SIX ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰

the next morning, you wake up so sore and battered from the night before you can barely move.

after going for several rounds, satoru taking you in every position imaginable, you both had collapsed onto the bed in a tangled heap of arms and legs, your sweaty bodies molded together stickily, and now with morning sunlight filtering through the window to shine brightly onto your face, you open your hazy eyes to find satoru's face nuzzled into your neck, snoring softly.

because even after all that rough sex and hate-fucking as he spat on you, degraded you, and cooed at you mockingly while you struggled to take all of his monstrous cock on your own, he was still cuddled up to you like a sleepy puppy, his soft white hair tickling you as his arms wrap around you, holding you tighter.

"satoruu.." you poke his cheek, shifting in his arms.

he only lets out a small whine of protest before moving his pale freckled face away from you in irritation.

oh for fuck's sake. you manage to free both hands from where his heavy body has you pinned, before shoving on his chest as hard as you can.

thump!

he groans, cerulean blue eyes instantly opening to glare up at you as you peek over the edge of the bed at him.

"fuck was that for?" he demands, toned back and muscles rippling tantalizingly. he was still naked from last night.

you blink at him innocently, tender doe-eyed gaze growing even more sickly sweet. "need you to get up. i want a bath."

he grumbles, rubbing a hand over his face in annoyance. "yeah? why can't you do it yourself?"

you pout at him, glossy lips sticking out dramatically. "you were the one who made me all messy n' sticky! s' only fair!"

"well who said they wanted me to cum all over her t-"

he's cut off as a soft pillow comes sailing in the air toward him, hitting him straight in the head with a small "oomph!".

"shut up, and make me a bath." you say plainly.

he grabs you so quick you can only squeal as he stands and grips the soft skin of your hips tightly, pulling you toward him and pinning you while his mouth huffs above yours.

"wanna say that again? i don't take demands from naughty princesses like you." his eyes narrow, flickering with heat. "and what you did last night was naughty."

you try and push his broad frame off you, but when that doesn't work, decide to instead try another tactic. "yeah? help me remember, was it when i rode you just like this..?"

you make an effort to squirm and grind your body under him, adding a few overexaggerated moans for effect, watching as his eyes turn half-lidded, his breathing coming in faster pants.

"orrr was it when i sucked your cock so good, you were almost in tears..?" teasingly, you let your eyes roll back, mock-gagging while faintly bobbing your head.

he swallows thickly, and you look down to see his length, leaky and hard, pulsating to life right before you.

"oh oh! i know! was it when i.."

quickly, he slaps a hand over your mouth, groaning out a, "fuck just shut up!" before his mouth is on yours, and he's claiming your tongue in a hot, sloppy kiss, as his hands find their way dragging down your body lower n' lower until his heated kisses and rough touches are all you can remember, teasing and mocking long-forgotten.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ── DAY SEVEN ── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰

today was the day that you both would return to the kingdom, escorted by horse-drawn carriages, and royal banners waving in the air, welcomed to the palace as official monarchs.

it was a big day, and you tucked your lip between your teeth nervously as you laced your corset up, fluffy tulle skirt sweeping around you.

after today, you would be queen of the gojo clan, forever dutiful to the throne up until the day you died.

you swallow thickly, making some last minute adjustments to yourself in the mirror when suddenly you feel a sharp, stinging smack! to your ass.

before you can react, satoru is already sidling up behind you, pressing his front flush against you, thick girthy outline prodded into your back as he whispers, “that dress is so tight on you.”

“toru, you pervert!” you wheel around, scowling firmly as you push him back, trying not to reveal how dizzy his touch makes you, watching him stumble back with mouth curved in a smirk, his eyes heavy and lustful.

“quickie before we go?” he steps forward again to close the distance, hand wrapping around your waist as his hips roll forward temptingly, causing you to suck in a breath, restraining yourself.

“no! they’re close, i can see the carriages in the distance!”

it was true. faintly outlined in the horizon, a whole army of royal steeds were quickly approaching, trumpets distantly playing with the stamp of the gojo clan drawn up high.

“fine.” he huffs, dragging you to him to spin you around and catch you in a dip. “how ‘bout a kiss?”

your eyes narrow on him suspiciously but you relent nonetheless, his glossy, candied lips crashing onto yours in a craze as he takes much more than a kiss from you.

he sucks your top lip into his mouth loudly, groaning softly at your taste before his tongue lewdly tangles with yours, pools of hot saliva mixing together.

in fact, you’re so caught up in him, you don’t even realize he’s moving you both until he slams you against the wall, one hefty thigh slotting its way between your legs to hold all of your weight, never breaking the kiss.

“toru.. mmph!” you try to break away to speak but he doesn’t let you, fervent mouth sliding against yours as he slowly lifts his leg higher, until he’s applying pressure directly to your pulsating core, an instinctive moan drifting its way out of your mouth.

you drag yourself along his thigh urgently, grinding back n’ forth and letting out small whimpers into his mouth, but suddenly, he stops, breaking the kiss with strings of saliva stretching between your lips as he peers at you, panting softly.

the moment turns more intimate as he hesitates, hand coming to caress your cheek almost softly, his eyes studying you with something you can’t quite decipher. “you know things are going to be different once we return to the kingdom, right?”

you hesitate. “different..?”

at the furrow that appears between your eyebrows, your eyes drifting to the fast-approaching carriage, he kisses you on the lips, this time softer, gentler, as if he’s apologizing for something you don’t know about, his hands drifting around your waist to press you firmer into him. “come, my queen.”

and with that, his hand comes to curl at the small of your back like he hadn't said anything, ushering you out the door and toward the carriages awaiting you, leaving your mind to spin with a complicated mess of emotions.

a few weeks go by following you and satoru's arrival to the kingdom, and you had slowly begun to see him less and less, as the demand for his presence steadily increases, his duties causing him to be away from the palace almost constantly.

and though you hated to admit it to yourself, the times he would come home, hurried and barely sparing you a glance before being rushed away, something different and unexpectedly warm would blossom up into your chest at the sight of him.

sometimes, he would sneak away to find you in your room, his eyes heated and low as he quickly pinned down your plush body, his chubbed cock already grinding against the softness of your stomach while he would kiss you tenderly like there wasn't anyone else in the world but you.

and, in the deep, achey recesses of your heart, that longed for something resembling affection without ever truly receiving it before, it felt like making love.

always by the time you woke up in the morning though, he'd be gone, nothing but rumpled sheets left in his place and the clinging scent of his cologne.

and as time passes, he appears less and less, until you never saw him at all, stuck lording over a lonely castle with nothing but the servants to keep you company, as even then your mind was clouded with thoughts of that familiar, infuriating smirk and enchanting blue eyes.

until one fateful day, it happened.

you had woken up, your head pounding and more than a little dizzy, feeling acid rush to your throat and fill your mouth, running to the toilet to gag over it, before slumping back down defeatedly.

you had been feeling sick lately, a little out of sorts with your body, and had also noticed how you were beginning to grow softer in some parts, more plush and chubby where you had once been less so.

and as you sat, with your head in your hands, leaned over the ceramic toilet bowl, you felt it.

a kick.

just barely, but you knew then, that you were with child.

you felt tears beginning to prick at your lashes, the joy of life setting in as you imagined how satoru would react, hoping that this would at least mean he could stay home more frequently, caring for you and cooing over your belly with a fatherly smile on his lips.

as soon as you're done cleaning yourself up in fact, putting on a sheer silk gossamer that showed off your tummy's newfound plumpness, you're already sending the servants off to retrieve satoru at once, sitting primly on the bed as you wait, with thoughts of his face when he found out already running through your head fondly.

finally, you hear the tell-tale creak of the door, and then rapid footsteps approaching as a slightly rumpled satoru appears, running his hands through messy white hair, looking as beautiful as ever.

“sorry, was busy.” his eyes dip down to what you’re wearing before flicking away, seeming almost distracted and out of it. “did you need something?”

you shift, smile slightly dimming. “yes, actually, i was just going to tell you.. well.. i’m expecting.”

he doesn’t even react to your words, nodding briskly like this was planned all along as he turns to leave again. “good, now that we have the heir, it’ll make a lot of things easier.”

he’s halfway out the door when you pull him back by the sleeve, eyes searching his.

“you aren’t going to stay with me?”

he sighs, turning back as if talking to a confused child. “of course not, i have kingly duties that need immediate attending. you will stay with the child, until its of an independent age to be comfortable on its own.”

your eyes narrow on him. “why are you treating this like a business transaction? i’m your wife, your queen, and i’m carrying your future child. don’t you care about that more than your kingdom?”

he rolls bored, blue eyes, the conversation obviously too dull for his tastes.

“i told you this was never going to be anything more than a marriage of convenience.” he moves to leave again, but you block the door, tears starting to brim in your eyes.

“so all of this meant nothing?”

he stares at you hard then, his next words ones you would repeat to yourself for the rest of your life. “it never was something to begin with.”

in a final attempt to get him to stay, you whisper hoarsely, “i-i love you, doesn’t that mean something?”

his cold, mountainous eyes that have never been more distant from you turn mean then, into something harsh, something angry. “you don’t get to fucking say that. not after everything you’ve done to ruin my life.”

you shove him slightly then, tears starting to spill down your cheeks. “what have i ever done to you besides be your wife?”

he looks away, swallowing angrily. “before you came along, i had a wife. a very pregnant wife. she wasn’t royalty but she was mine. and then my stupid father found out about us, and arranged a marriage immediately in place of her, to avoid scandal and protect the gojo clan name. bringing you.”

you can do nothing but stare, eyes wide as your body seems to cower before him. “w-what? you have another woman?”

he rubs a hand over his face in frustration at his inability to get through to you. “don’t you get it? you’re the other woman. this..”he gestures between you wildly. “.. is nothing more than publicity and a cover-up.”

you sniffle softly, as he roughly pushes past you to get out the door.

that was the last time you ever saw him.

© 2025 CHOSOSCUTIE. please don't copy or translate any of my works. all rights reserved.

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[crushpunky]

drew and actress!readers on hot ones

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is based partially off of the new hot ones interview with the obx cast. just imagine drew and actress!reader are on opposite teams rather than drew being the question person lol. yall really seemed to like the last interview-fic i did so voila <3

“I’m already sweating.” Madison said, fanning herself as they filed into the studio. Lights and a white backdrop surrounded a table covered with wings, four chairs on each side. They’d already been briefed on how things were going to go, the eight of them divided into two teams and answering questions, their answers deciding whether or not they’d be subjected to one of the very hot wings laid out in front of them.

Drew came up behind y/n, pulling out her chair for her before heading to his own seat opposite her. She smiled at him, soothing her dress down as the rest of the cast sat down. Madelyn, Rudy, and Carlacia took seats on her team whereas Drew sat with Chase, Madison, and JD opposite them.

“You better not be expecting me to go easy on you, Starkey.” Y/n grinned, resting her chin in her hands as she looked at the man across from her, his eyes crinkling as a smile crept across his face.

“You better not be expecting me to go easy on you, my love.” Drew raised his eyebrows teasingly.

“Ok, are we ready?” One of the producers asked, to which the cast responded with excited (or perhaps anxious) cheers. The camera focused in on Chase, who reached and spun the bottle of hot sauce sitting in front of them, the ultimate decider of which team would go first. It spun for a moment before landing on Madelyn, her teammates erupting with hollers as Chases picked up one of the cards.

“Alright, Mr. Rudy,” Chase smiled cheekily. “Outer Banks has hooked viewers with its countless twists and turns, however, name one storyline you think should’ve never made it out of the writers room.”

Everyone let out some groans and giggles as Rudy began to lose himself in thought… and continued and continued to think.

“Is there a time limit on these?” JD quipped, causing Rudy to roll his eyes, stroking his chin in playful contemplation.

“This is off to a great start.” Y/n said, elbowing Rudy lightly.

“Ok, ok!” Rudy said. “I’d say… I wish they didn’t switch to the second treasure so fast. They should’ve stuck at the first treasure longer.”

“That sounds like an answer to me!” Carlacia clapped as the team opposite them picked up their wings with a groan. They each took a bite, chewing for a second before they all reached for the drinks in front of them.

“Shit.” Drew swore as he took a long sip of milk, his cheeks already beginning to flush a bright red.

“Don’t worry there’s more where that came from.” Y/n grinned as Drew shook his head. Y/n reached in front of her, grabbing another one of the question cards.

“Oh, JD,” Y/n read in a sing-song voice, “Outer Banks centers around a group of teenagers, but our cast ranges from 24 to 33 years old. Which of your costars is the least convincing teenager?”

The table erupted into “oohs” as JD surveyed his co-stars, a nervous grin on his face before his gaze landed on Chase.

“I think I have to say Mr Chase Stokes.” JD chuckled.

“Is it because of the beard?” Chase teased as y/n and her team picked up the wings in front of them. With a deep breath, y/n took a bite, her mouth immediately bursting with heat. With a groan, she reached for the ice water in front of her, hoping to soothe the fire in her throat as her eyes began to water.

“No more jokes, baby?” Drew asked as y/n fanned herself off with her hand. Y/n rolled her eyes, tossing the old question card at him. Drew picked the next card, his gaze locking onto the girl in front of him.

“Oh, perfect. Y/n,” Drew began, “part of Outer Banks’ charm is the chemistry between the cast. That being said, who here is the worst scene partner?”

“Oh no!” Y/n groaned, putting her face in her hands as the table broke out in gasps and laughter. She stole a glance at the second wing in front of her, royally coated in fiery hot sauce before thinking of an answer.

“Ok, ok! I’m going to answer, but,” y/n said with an anxious giggle, “you have to let me explain!”

Her co-stars leaned in, each of them with looks of anticipation covering their faces as y/n sat up straighter in her seat.

“My answer is…” y/n paused for dramatic affect, chewing at her bottom lip nervously, “Drew, but—”

Everyone erupted into shrieks and laughter, Drew’s jaw dropping at his girlfriend’s answer. Madelyn covered her mouth, locking eyes with Carlacia before they both turned to y/n.

“No, no, no! You have to let me explain!” Y/n reached across the table, grabbing Drew’s hand, his mouth still agape.

“This is going to be good.” Rudy chuckled.

“He’s not a bad scene partner, he is just so different from Rafe and always makes me laugh, so it takes us a million takes to get a scene done!” Y/n clarified, Drew’s shocked expression melting into a small smile.

“See, you’re just such a funny guy and I love you so much that it makes it hard to do scenes with you. It’s a compliment, really, baby.” Y/n finished with a quirk of her eyebrows, her costars swooning as the couple gazed at each other softly.

“Good save, good save.” JD teased as he and his team reached for another hot wing. The game continued for several more rounds, various questions, and, of course, lots of spicy wings, until they finally made it to the finale.

The table was moved out, their seats being arranged in a circle for a cutthroat game of musical chairs that would ultimately determine the winner of the game. Round after round, the numbers dwindled until one chair and two players remained: y/n and Drew.

“No mercy, y/n!” Madelyn shouted from the side as y/n and Drew rounded the chair slowly.

“C’mon Starkey boy!” Chase cheered. Y/n looked up for a moment, her eyes meeting with Drew’s as the music suddenly stopped. Before she knew it, Drew’s arms wrapped around her torso, lifting her off her feet with a shriek. He quickly sat down in the chair, pulling her down with him, and winning the game.

“Sorry baby,” Drew smirked, pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek. Y/n groaned playfully, tossing her head back to rest on Drew’s shoulder as the two of them laughed in the chair.

“You’re lucky I love you, Starkey.” Y/n grinned, kissing Drew’s jaw.

“Do you? Do you really?” Drew teased, nuzzling his nose into the crook of y/n’s neck, causing her to squeal with laughter. In all her life, y/n would’ve never expected that she in all her competitive nature would be ok with losing a competition, but here she was, happy as ever.

[blank-potato]

my kid's better than your kid

Pairing: John Walker x Reader

Summary:

“Listen here, Captain Suburbia,” you sneer. “Anyone with two functioning eyes could see your kid bodychecked mine like it was hockey practice.” “Well, the ref didn’t see it that way. So move on,” he snaps back without missing a beat. “Absolutely not! This is about accountability.” “There’s no need to give my kid a red card just because your kid—” John starts, hands gesturing like he's trying to explain away a traffic ticket. “Don’t even finish that sentence,” you fire back, jabbing a finger at his chest. “If you even imply that she was overreacting, I swear I’ll—” He holds up his hands, that smug look never leaving his face. “Hey, relax. Just saying, maybe things wouldn’t get so dramatic if you stayed on your side of the field.” You narrow your eyes. “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.” Or You and John's kids are in the same soccer league, and after you get into an argument on the field over your kids, you start seeing him everywhere. It's hate at first sight.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, hair pulling, mirror sex, oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, breeding kink, sexual overstimulation, John Walker is a biter, No Superhero AU!, slow burn, enemies to lovers, dead spouse (I killed off his wife oop), John being a good dad, Ava Starr cameo

WC: 12.0k

A/N: I feel like John would be one of those dads who's coaching from the sidelines at their kids' game, so I wrote this. I'm also obsessed with him right now so expect more fics

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

Some might call you intense or insane.

A little crazy, definitely.

There’s a fire in you, always has been, and when it comes to your daughter, you didn’t play around. Every aspect of her life was important to you, especially her Saturday morning soccer games.

Though you didn’t know what intense was until you saw that dickhead across the field. Blonde hair, a trimmed beard, built like he probably hits the gym four times a week. His biceps flexed under his white shirt every time he threw his arms up at the ref, which, to be fair, was often.

If he weren’t so obnoxious, you might even find him hot, but you totally don’t find him hot. He was pumped up, red in the face, and just as invested in the game as you were. Pacing like a coach who got fired but still showed up anyway. He was shouting directions, clapping like his kid was about to be scouted, and cheering like it was the World Cup and not just a rec league game on a patchy field behind a middle school.

He was showing you up, so you started cheering louder for your kid. Because if this is a competition, you're damn well not losing it.

“That’s it, Lily! Give ‘em hell!” You shout, your daughter just smiles at you and goes back to playing, used to your competitive nature.

The man takes notice of you and looks at you like he isn’t also acting like a lunatic before cheering even louder. That rubbed you the wrong way. What gave him the right to look at you like you were the problem?

Then it happens.

You watch as your daughter gets slide-tackled for no reason.

And the ref? Doing fuck all about it.

“What was that call, ref?” you shout, already on your feet.

“I—” the ref starts, backing up as you approach. 

You trudge towards him, angry but trying to maintain a look of composed fury, like you weren't two seconds from setting the field on fire. 

The ref was used to your antics, and now every time he saw you storming towards him, he’d be sure that he’d be going home with a headache.

“No yellow or red card? She got slide-tackled,” you bark.

“It’s—”

“She didn’t even have the ball!” you snap, the words ripping out of you like they’ve been waiting. You’re so fired up, so high on rage and love and disbelief, you swear you could take flight.

“It was an accident, so there’s no need for that,” a voice cuts in, calm and condescending in the worst possible way.

You turn, and it’s him, the guy from across the field. The look on his face, the matter-of-fact tone, the casual smugness oozing off him like cologne. You hate him instantly. It was that easy.

“I’m guessing that was your son that ran over my daughter,” you say, each word clipped like you’re trying not to launch them at his face.

“Ran over?” he snorts. “Talk about an exaggeration.”

“It’s soccer, these things happen. You don’t have to throw a tantrum just because your kid's team is down two,” he adds, smirking like he thinks this is witty banter and not a declaration of war.

You scoff, hands on hips, already stepping into his space. The ref backs off like a man realising he’s standing between two charging bulls. This wasn’t a sideline spat; this was two planets colliding, and he wanted no part of the fallout.

“Listen here, Captain Suburbia,” you sneer. “Anyone with two functioning eyes could see your kid bodychecked mine like it was hockey practice.”

“Well, the ref didn’t see it that way. So move on,” he snaps back without missing a beat.

“Absolutely not! This is about accountability.”

“There’s no need to give my kid a red card just because your kid—” John starts, hands gesturing like he's trying to explain away a traffic ticket.

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” you fire back, jabbing a finger at his chest. “If you even imply that she was overreacting, I swear I’ll—”

He holds up his hands, that smug look never leaving his face. “Hey, relax. Just saying, maybe things wouldn’t get so dramatic if you stayed on your side of the field.”

You narrow your eyes. “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.”

“That’s it! Take this off the field,” the ref finally blurts, hands up, voice cracking. “The kids have a match to play!”

You exhale sharply and hard through your nose, fists clenched at your sides. You try to calm yourself down, jaw tight, heart pounding. You sit and look out at your daughter, brushing grass off her knees and already back in position. 

She's tougher than you give her credit, but that didn’t change the fact that you wanted to put that guy’s head in the ground. 

After the game, her team, the Honeybees, lost after a few missed goals and lots of questionable calls, but your daughter was still laughing with her friends, unfazed in the way only kids can be.

You, however, were still stewing in quiet indignation when you spotted the world’s biggest jackass, in your humble, entirely accurate opinion, making his way toward you.

“Oh. It’s you,” you say, arms crossed automatically.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your loss,” he says, all fake sincerity, like he wasn’t two seconds away from being shoved into a juice box cooler.

“How mature.”

“I try,” he replies with that same maddening, self-satisfied grin.

You narrow your eyes, ready for whatever condescending nonsense he might say next. If he says “good effort”, you’re swinging. Choosing not to let him fuck with you, you tell him what’s what. 

“Your team only won because of the ref’s bad calls,” you say, arms still crossed, tone sharp enough to slice fruit.

“Oh really?” he replies, lifting an eyebrow like he’s genuinely amused. Like this is his idea of foreplay.

“Yeah. My kid was dynamite out there.”

“So was mine,” he says back instantly.

“I mean, sure, but my kid has the most assists on her team,” you say, trying to keep your cool, even as your voice edges higher.

“Assists,” he echoes, nodding slowly. “Not goals.”

You blink at him. “Are we seriously doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he says with mock innocence, hands raised like he’s never been petty in his life.

You press your lips together, biting your tongue so hard it might bruise. You didn’t want to, you really didn’t want to, but it slips out anyway.

“My kid can out-pass, out-hustle, and outplay any other kid on that field.”

He grins like he’s been waiting for this.

“Well, my kid can run circles around your kid while tying his cleats.”

Your jaw drops slightly. “Alright then, my kid was able to run a full field drill without missing a pass when she was five.”

“Well, mine could do cone drills backwards while coaching his teammate through theirs.”

Your eye twitches at that and he delights in seeing you so bothered.

“Lily has a killer left foot and once scored a hat trick with a stomach bug.”

“And Tommy is a human wall on defence.”

“Oh, please. Lily once did a bicycle kick and landed on her feet. What’s Tommy got?” You say, crossing your arms. 

“Perfect attendance and a clean penalty record.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at ‘clean penalty record’ but you keep it moving.

“Lily brings orange slices for the whole team.”

“Tommy brings strategy diagrams and pep talks.”

You pause, blinking. “Are we… bragging about how nice our kids are now?”

“Seems like it.”

You both go quiet for a beat, then he adds with a smirk, “Still doesn’t mean your kid’s better. I think you should admit to defeat.”

You step forward, just enough to make a point. “I’ll admit defeat when the Honeybees start losing because of their own mistakes, not because your future linebacker throws elbows like he’s in a bar fight.”

He actually laughs, and it’s a little too charming for your liking. Before you can wrestle with what that means, you hear a voice. 

“Dad!” his son calls from across the field, waving dramatically. “Hurry up, you promised we’d get ice cream!”

He glances over his shoulder, then looks back at you with that same smug glint in his eye.

“Again, enjoy your loss,” he says, already turning. “And get used to it. The season’s still young.”

You narrow your eyes. “Until next time, Captain Suburbia.”

He chuckles and starts to walk away, but pauses, turns back with a smirk plastered on his face.

“John,” he says. “My name is John.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

“Uh, what are you doing?” 

“Hiding.”

“From?” Your friend, Ava, says as she looks around for the apparent danger. 

“John.”

Ever since that day, you were livid with the dickhead you knew as John Walker. You had never hated someone so much from just one meeting. You never wanted to see him again, but you did while shopping.

Ava takes a peek, “Oh, the hot soccer dad? Which one is he?”

You never described him as hot but Ava figured from the way you were losing your mind over him, you thought he was. 

“Blonde, beard, tall and wearing a blue shirt.”

Ava sees him in the fruit and veg aisle and hums in approval, “Is he single? He’s right up your alley, no?”

You nudge her arm. “I don’t know. I mean, I didn't see him with anyone at the game…” You say your voice drifting off before you're back to your senses. “Whether or not he's single is irrelevant! He’s a complete asshole.”

“Just because he's an asshole doesn’t mean he’s not good in bed.”

The death glare you give her is intense and could be considered lethal, but she laughs it off. 

“Let’s be honest, if you weren’t attracted to him, you wouldn’t be so riled up.”

“Oh, please, I’m not into evil blonde men.”

Is he hot? Yes. But his evilness outweighs the hotness. 

“Well, the evil blonde man is coming your way.”

You look towards the end of the aisle to see that Ava was right, so you immediately duck down behind a tower of soup cans. 

“Please come out from over there,” Ava whispers but you protest, hoping you can camouflage yourself and become one with the cans.

Ten seconds pass, and you hear your name in that familiar voice and know you’ve been caught.

“Oh. Hi.”

Your attempt at being nonchalant is honestly pitiful, but not more pitiful than him knowing you were hiding from him.

“Don’t mind me, go back to whatever this is,” He says, gesturing to your hunched-over, goblin-like stance. He reaches over you and grabs a can off the shelf, walking off without another word. 

“See? No need to panic. He was perfectly civil,” Ava chimes in.

“Only because he caught me in a state of weakness. He has the upper hand, and he’s already plotting against me. I can feel it.”

“He’s a soccer dad, not a supervillain,” Ava sighs, helping you off the floor, concerned about the effect he was having on you, but then again, she was always concerned about you. You regularly lose your mind at your daughter’s soccer games so she has just cause. 

“I need to grab the wine, I’ll meet you at the checkout,” Ava says, and you nod, letting her walk off. 

You had to circle back around to get the limited edition coffee you had become obsessed with anyway. You get to the aisle and your eyes widen when you realise that there’s only one left. Your hand flies to grab it, you can already imagine it in your trolley, and it looks good. It looks happy, like it's ready to be at home in your pantry.

But at the same time, another hand wraps around it, the hand belonging to John, because fate was still playing in your face. 

“You.”

You thought you were done with him for the day. Clearly, the universe had other plans.

John raises an eyebrow, not letting go. “Come on. Be a gentleman and give it to me,” You say, trying to force a smile. 

Your grip tightens, so does his.

“I don’t think so,” he says smoothly, as if he weren’t just on the verge of sparking a full-blown aisle standoff. “It’s the last one.”

“I know.”

“I’ll have to go across town for another,” You say, your eyebrows knitting together. 

“Cry about it.”

You tug on it a little, but he doesn’t budge. The item wobbles dangerously between your hands.

“Are you even trying?” he asks. He was so good at being a smug bastard, you wonder if he was born like this or if he honed this craft. You open your mouth to really let him have it, but you don’t even get the chance. 

Without another word, he snatches it clean from your hand in one smooth move, drops it into his trolley like he just won Olympic gold, and starts walking away, whistling.

You stand there, mildly offended but mostly impressed.

“Oh no, you did not just—” you march after him.

“Too slow, sweetheart,” he calls over his shoulder without turning around. “Better luck next time.”

“I hope it’s expired!” you shout after him.

You stop walking and watch as he struts off with your coffee like he was the King of Aisle Seven, you were planning his downfall in at least three different ways.

And two of them involved shopping carts.

After the grocery store incident, you were looking forward to having a reprieve from John Walker. But it was like fate or something more evil was forcing the two of you together. You have a PTA meeting the next night, and who do you see there but John, who was now becoming a permanent fixture in your life. 

You sigh and sit in the only empty seat, which was next to him.

“Let’s not even speak,” You suggest you say as soon as your butt hits the seat.

“Fine with me,” John replies as he crosses his arms, looking away from you. 

You sit there tapping your foot. It was almost painful being silent when everyone else was having conversations. Especially when you were next to a thief. You didn’t even get the opportunity to yell at him properly for swiping your coffee.

You finally break, “What you did yesterday was shitty.”

“And I thought we weren’t going to speak.”

“I’ll be sick if I don’t call out injustice when I see it.”

John laughs, and you want to strangle him. “You’re still thinking about that? I’m constantly on your mind, aren’t I?”

You shift in your seat, feeling the heat climbing up the back of your neck. How dare he even suggest that? Yes, you were thinking about him, but only about all the ways you wanted to destroy him.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap under your breath.

The meeting starts before he can muster up a comeback. You catch yourself zoning out as the agenda drags on, filled with tedious updates about the bake sale and a desperate plea for chaperones for the 3rd-grade trip to Lake Maribelle.

You swing your leg absentmindedly and accidentally bump his shin. It’s genuinely an accident.

“Did you just kick me?” he whispers.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t taking up half the space with your big—”

“You’re unbelievable—” He interrupts, turning his body to face you.

“—gangly legs, then you wouldn’t have gotten hit,” You whisper your sentence over his.

Your whispered bickering is only interrupted by the teacher at the front calling both your names.

“You’ll help chaperone the trip to Lake Maribelle?”

With all those expectant eyes on you, how could either of you say no?

“Yeah…”

“Of course…”

You both reply sheepishly at the same time.

“Great, I’ll sign the two of you up.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

Stepping onto the bus, you watch as Lily disappears to go sit with her friend, leaving you with a slight pang of loneliness. You head to the front and slump into your seat, next to who else but John, because you can’t even be surprised. You really needed to start arriving at places earlier to avoid sitting next to him, but here you were.

It’s a four-hour ride, and you can already feel your exhaustion creeping in. You try to keep yourself alert, but your eyes are heavy. Before you know it, your head tilts to the side, falling onto his shoulder.

John glances down at you, noticing how tired you look. He’s always been perceptive like that. He doesn’t say anything at first, just shifts slightly to give you more space. But when he feels you drift further, he gently shifts, adjusting his posture. His shoulder feels like a small slice of comfort amidst the exhaustion.

He lets you use his shoulder the whole ride. You looked quite peaceful when you weren’t trying to rip his head off, quite beautiful too. John catches the thought and tosses it out. He couldn’t be caught slipping, you were his mortal enemy after all.

The bus reaches the camp, and suddenly, it jerks to a stop. Your head flies forward, but before you can react, John’s hand shoots out, catching your forehead in the palm of his hand just in time.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a little embarrassed but too tired to really care.

He just hums in response, his fingers lightly grazing your skin for just a second longer than necessary. “Quick reflexes.”

Hoping off the bus, you notice the camp leaders waiting to greet the kids. You stand off to the side ensuring everyone gets off the bus when you notice one of the teachers, Miss. Lucas, sidling up next to John, laughing a little too loudly at something he barely said. Your eyes narrow without even realising it, and your fist subconsciously tightens. It’s like a sudden surge of irritation hits you.

The worst part is that you don’t even know why you're so bothered. You’re pretty sure it's just your general distaste for him as a person, and anything he does seems to irritate you. That felt like the easiest explanation. No need to dig deeper into that nagging feeling in your chest, like someone’s poking it with a stick. You shake it off, willing yourself to focus on something else, anything else.

After you get the kids all settled in for the first activity, though, it hits you like a ton of bricks. The exhaustion. You’re winded in a way you don’t remember being before. You try to shake it off, but it’s clear that you’ve reached your limit for the day. This trip wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, and now, even a simple walk feels like you’ve run a marathon.

You take a deep breath, looking around for a moment to regain your composure. There's no need to make a bigger deal out of it. Just power through, you tell yourself. But it’s harder than you expected, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s more than just the physical exhaustion that's weighing on you.

But at least John was out of sight. You didn’t have to see him on the nature walk or the obstacle course, but you’d have to supervise the canoeing together. You make it out there first, sitting on the dock as the kids are getting in the canoes with the instructors. A smile tugs at your lips as you see how excited Lily is, her face lighting up as she waits for her turn, then spotting you in the crowd. She waves enthusiastically, and you wave back, your heart swelling just a little at the sight of her so happy.

“Nice day out,” John says, looking out at the water. You’re shaken to your core. Not just because you didn’t hear him walk up, but because of what he said. What was this? A normal conversation starter?

You open your mouth to respond, but you're cut off by Miss. Lucas' syrupy voice slicing through the moment like a dull butter knife.

“It really is, and John, you really should wear sunglasses. With how blue your eyes are, the way the sun hits them is just distracting,” she purrs, twirling a lock of her overly straightened hair.

It’s laced with flirtation and just enough condescension to make your skin crawl.

You roll your eyes — hard.

John notices.

“What? You don’t like the sun?” he asks, amused now, that sharp gaze flicking to you like he already knows he’s poking the bear.

“I like the sun,” you answer evenly.

“Then what were you rolling your eyes at, huh?”

You’re so tempted to say exactly what’s on your mind. To call out Miss. Lucas’s thinly veiled thirst trap of a compliment, but you catch yourself. The last thing you need is her holding some petty grudge against Lily over adult nonsense.

So instead, you force a too-sweet smile and say, “None of your business.”

He chuckles, clearly entertained.

Miss. Lucas doesn’t seem to notice any of it. She’s still lingering like a wasp at a picnic.

John tilts his head, a grin still playing at his lips. “Touchy.”

Stepping into your space, he does that thing, that infuriating thing, where he leans in just enough to make your breath hitch but not enough to break any rules.

You guys just couldn’t seem to be near each other without someone stepping over the invisible line.

“And you’re observant,” you shoot back, voice low. “Someone might think you’re a little obsessed.”

His brow lifts. “Is that right?”

“You know what? I’m sorry, I'm being rude. Let me ask you this,” you say, your voice sweet and dangerous all at once, “Do you like water?”

“What kind of question is—?”

Splash.

He never finishes.

You shove him clean off the dock, and he crashes into the freezing lake with a satisfying crash. A few heads turn at the sound, followed by laughter, mostly from the kids.

John surfaces, sputtering, slicking his hair back with both hands as he glares up at you like a betrayed golden retriever.

“It’s freezing!” he shouts.

“Oh no,” you gasp dramatically, hand to your chest. “Is it? I had no idea.”

He blinks the water from his eyes, slow and deliberate, before gripping the edge of the dock with both hands and pulling himself up in one smooth, effortless motion.

It’s… a problem.

You might hate the man, scratch that, you definitely hate the man, but God help you, he had the audacity to look good doing literally anything. The sunlight caught the drops of water rolling down his arms, his shirt plastered to the ridges of his abs and the degenerate part of your brain wanting to see them with his shirt off. 

His hair dripped, tousled and messy in a way that looked too perfect to be accidental. It was like watching someone climb out of a cologne commercial.

You bite your lip instinctively, then immediately cover it up with a cough and a scowl.

He strides toward you, soaking wet, every squelching footstep a declaration of petty war. You’re forced to crane your neck to meet his eyes as he stops in front of you.

“You’re lucky,” he says, water still dripping from his sleeves, “that one of us knows how to act like an adult.”

You raise your eyebrows, lips twitching despite yourself. “You sure it’s you?”

He huffs a humourless laugh, then turns and walks down the dock toward the cabins, leaving behind a trail of wet footprints and a hundred silent thoughts you’re too proud to say out loud.

You watch him go and tell yourself it’s because you want to see if there’s the off chance he falls in. 

Definitely not because of the view.

You’re watching your back the rest of the day, fully expecting some form of petty revenge. A frog in your shoe, a cold fish under your pillow, maybe even your toothbrush mysteriously tasting like lake water. But nothing happens.

No pranks. No payback.

You’re in the clear.

Now, sitting by the campfire, the sky a hazy lavender above the treeline, things feel… calm. The kids are running wild around the open field, fireflies blinking to life as marshmallows roast and someone strums a guitar softly in the distance.

“Hi,” a small voice says beside you.

You turn and see Tommy, John’s son, standing there with a hesitant smile.

“Hey, having fun?” you ask, shifting to make room.

He nods and sits next to you, pulling his knees up to his chest. “The nature walk was pretty cool, and me and my friends loved  the obstacle course. And the canoeing was fun too… even though you pushed my dad in the lake.”

You groan lightly, a hand going to your face. “Yeah, about that…”

The guilt hits, a pang of embarrassment. You knew your behaviour was juvenile. Funny, sure, but maybe not your finest moment, especially in front of the kids.

You laugh under your breath and shake your head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It was pretty funny,” Tommy admits, “And I know you and my dad have problems.”

You feel even more ashamed that it was bleeding into your kids' lives too.

“My dad can be a lot,” he says, kicking a pebble with the toe of his shoe. “But he’s just… I don’t know. He tries really hard. Especially for me.”

It helped you understand John a little better. The bluster, the sarcasm, the stubborn streak a mile wide… It wasn’t just pride or ego. It was effort. The kind that comes from someone trying to do right, even if it comes out messy. You could appreciate that because you were the same way.

And if he’d raised such a polite kid, then he couldn’t be all bad. Not even close.

“Have you seen him, by the way?” Tommy asks.

“Not lately,” you say, then gesture toward the table behind you. “But you can have some marshmallows while you wait, if you want.”

“Sure!” he says, lighting up as he grabs a stick and starts roasting.

John comes back to see something he wasn't expecting. The bane of his existence, laughing with his son and roasting marshmallows. Tommy didn’t warm up to most people that easily, so when he sees him lighting up with you, his opinion of you shifts. Maybe you weren’t an evil witch. 

You still got a bucket of freezing lake water poured over you the next morning, though. 

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You’re out running errands, finally—blissfully—alone. Lily’s spending the weekend at your parents' place, which meant you had time to catch your breath, clean without stepping on glitter, and maybe finally recover from the whirlwind that was the school trip.

You understood John better. You still thought he was annoyingly smug, sure, but maybe not completely irredeemable.

But you weren’t getting ahead of yourself. He was still the same cocky asshole you met yelling across a soccer field... right?

Just as you’re mulling that over, tongue in cheek, deciding if you’d imagined all the softness, you feel your car begin to slow down.

“What the—?”

You frown, tapping the gas. Nothing. A few panicked beeps. Then a sputter.

You manage to pull off to the side of the road just as the engine completely gives out, your car coasting to a reluctant stop.

“No, no, no!” you shout, slamming your palms against the steering wheel.

This couldn’t be happening. Not today. Not when you finally had a few hours of peace and you were this close to getting Thai food and going home to binge terrible reality TV.

With a heavy sigh, you get out and open the bonnet, even though you have no idea what you’re looking for. Wires? Steam? A glowing red light labeled you’re screwed?

You’re standing there, staring blankly into the guts of your car, when you hear it, a car slowing down behind you and parking behind you. 

You barely glance back, already waving them off. “Thanks, I’m good—”

But then you hear a too-familiar voice say, “Well, that doesn’t look promising.”

Of course.

You turn around slowly.

And there he is.

John Walker, ladies and gentlemen. 

“Need a hand?” he asks, already strolling over like he’s been waiting his whole life to rescue you.

“I uh…” You start becasure you’re so tempted to say “I got this” but the moment your eyes look back at whatever the fuck is going on in your car, you sigh.

“Do you have a toolbox?” he’d asked.

“Yeah, it’s in the boot,” you’d said, thinking nothing of it.

Then he came back, popped the hood, and casually peeled his shirt off with a warning: “Don’t read into anything. I just don’t want grease on my shirt.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you replied, a little too quickly.

You didn’t say anything, but that sure as hell didn’t stop you from watching. Because damn. The man was all broad shoulders, and strong arms that had no business looking that good twisting bolts.

You could’ve watched him work all day.

“Try starting it,” he called, interrupting your horny thoughts.

You slid back into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and the engine roared to life. It’s a miracle.

“Thank you, seriously.”

He leaned over the hood, smug smile fully loaded. “No problem. That should get you moving, but you definitely need to take this to a garage. I can come with you, if you want.”

Seeing the way your face contorts, he follows up with an explanation before you start berating him again. 

“You’ll need a ride home after, won’t you?”

“Oh, true… I guess I’ll take you up on your offer. I mean as long as I'm not keeping you from Tommy, am I?” You say as you watch him put his shirt back on.

“No, he's at his grandparents’ place.”

“Oh same with Lily,” You admit.

“Guess we have some errands to run together then.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You arrive back home in his car and say “Home sweet home,” because you didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about. Ever since you watched him fix your car, haggle down the price of your repair with the mechanic and drive you home, you’d been in a bit of a daze. A ‘John Walker is the perfect man’ daze to be exact.

“Do you ... wanna come in?” You say, the words escaping you, but what you didn’t expect was his reply.

“Sure.”

You welcome him in, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as John casually walks around your house. 

It was clean, for once and cosy too, filled with little signs of your life with Lily. Pictures lined the walls: school plays, messy birthday parties, soccer games. Her drawings were stuck to the fridge with mismatched magnets.

“This you?” John asks, voice tinged with amusement.

You turn to see him holding a framed photo from the shelf, a younger you, maybe around Lily’s age, standing proudly in a baseball uniform, cap askew and a dirt-smudged grin on your face.

You roll your eyes but smile. “Yeah. I peaked in Little League.”

He chuckles, eyes still on the photo. “You look like you were about to take someone out at home plate.”

“I probably did.”

He glances over at you, that familiar smirk on his face. “Not much has changed then.”

You snort. “Are you calling me aggressive?”

“I’m saying I’d definitely want you on my team,” he replies, setting the photo down gently. “You were a force to be reckoned with, no doubt,” he says with a chuckle.

“Always.”

“Are there more?” he asks, leaning a little closer with that annoyingly charming glint in his eye.

You cross your arms, sitting back a little as you narrow your eyes. “Nuh uh. We are not going through my baby pictures.”

“Yes, we are.”

And five minutes later, you were both on the couch with a photo album spread across your lap.

“You even look like a soccer ball in this one,” he teases, pointing to a photo of you in a puffy striped onesie.

“I bet you were an ugly baby,” you fire back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“I’ll have you know I was adorable. Practically a Gerber baby.”

He flips a page and pauses. “Is this you or Lily?”

“That’s Lily,” you say, your smile softening.

“She looks just like you.”

“I like to call her my twin,” you laugh. “And she hates it.”

Time ticks by, and you barely even notice it. The room has dimmed with the setting sun, shadows creeping in, and a warmth building low in your stomach. You’ve been flipping through photo albums for what must’ve been hours, laughing and teasing each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Then you hear it, John’s stomach growling, loud and unmistakable. You glance at him, and he’s already giving you a sheepish smile. Clearly, you’re both thinking the same thing.

“I was going to order Thai,” you say casually. “If you wanted to stay for dinner.”

He hesitates for only a second. “I’d like that.”

Later, the two of you are curled up on the couch, takeout containers spread between you, Real Housewives playing in the background. The chaotic drama on screen contrasts with the quiet ease between you.

It had been so long since you’d just relaxed like this with someone—someone who wasn’t Ava or Lily. And it felt good. Easy. Right.

“I have a suggestion, feel free to say no.”

“Hit me,” John says, leaning back against the couch, one arm draped over the cushion behind you.

You bite back a grin. “I have a bottle of whiskey that’s begging to be opened. Wanna throw on some music and help me put it out of its misery?”

He lifts an eyebrow, a slow smile creeping onto his face. “Why not?”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You shouldn’t drink around him. At this point, you were touchy and honestly just saying shit for the sake of saying shit. You’re not too drunk but definitely tipsy enough to say whatever comes to your mind. 

“I haven’t seen Tommy’s mom around. Did you guys split up?” you blurt out, half-curious, half-dreading the answer. You feel a drop in the atmosphere as his hands seem to tighten on the glass. 

“Sorry, you don’t need to answer. That was weird of me to ask…” You're trying to backtrack as quickly as possible.

“Oh no, it’s okay, she uh,” he says quietly. “She passed a few years ago.”

You pause, your posture softening. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s alright,” he says, voice low but steady. “Still tough without her, but we manage.”

He glances down, like he’s trying to ground himself before continuing.

“I’d like to say I was a good husband, but I was always away in the army. I could’ve been better before she…” He trails off, eyes now solely focused on the liquid swirling in his glass. 

You stay quiet, wanting to listen rather than rush in. 

“When I came back from my last tour, she was already sick. But for a while, we were okay. We were happy. Then she got worse. It was hard seeing her like that when she was so full of life before I left. I felt like I had missed so much, and when she…” He pauses again, his voice catching in his throat like he was being choked. 

“Tommy’s the only thing that kept me going after. I’m always scared I’ll mess things up with him and miss the important stuff. That I already am.”

He exhales sharply, almost laughing at himself. “Shit. Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“Not at all,” you say gently, shaking your head. “And I can tell you’re a good dad. Anyone can. He's such a sweet kid and he adores you.”

He looks at you then, and for once, there’s no smirk, no one-liner. Just quiet gratitude.

“Thanks,” he says. “That means more than you know.”

You both take another drink, the burn lingering in your throat like something you don’t mind holding onto for a while.

“What about you? I noticed there aren’t any pictures of Lily’s dad around,” he asks, voice softer now, like he’s not just making conversation anymore.

“We got divorced ages ago. He was a total disaster.”

You let out a dry laugh, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

 “We got married too young, had Lily, got divorced two years in and… I honestly can’t even remember the last time he showed up for her. No birthday messages, no calls. Nothing.”

You pause, trying not to let the anger twist your words.

“It’s a shame because she’s so amazing,” you add, staring into your glass. “And her dad doesn't give her the time of day and never has. She deserves so much better than that, and I wish I could be everything for her, but I…”

John’s quiet, listening. Really listening, giving you the space that you gave him. 

“It’s hard doing it on your own,” you say, looking up at him. “I know you get that.”

He nods slowly, then offers a small, warm smile. “It’s his loss. She’s a kick-ass kid with a pretty kick-ass mom.”

You laugh, the real kind this time.

“I genuinely thought you were about to fight me the day we met,” he says, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

You grin. “I was about to fight you.”

“Very hot.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling and, for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel exhausting to let someone in.

“Okay, Mr. Tight-White-Shirt,” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

He smirks instantly. “Ah, so you were ogling me that day.”

Damn. You walked right into that one.

“A woman can’t appreciate the male form?” you say, all mock innocence.

John laughs, shaking his head as he takes another drink. The music shifts, a different song now, low and smooth, some classic jazz number that’s always sounded like warmth and memory and late nights.

You perk up instantly. “John, we have to dance.”

He blinks. “What?”

“C’mon!”

Before he can argue, you’re already pulling him to his feet drunkenly. He hesitates for half a second, then relents because, of course, he does. His hands find your waist, cautious at first, and you wrap your arms around his neck as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I can’t remember the last time I slow danced,” you murmur against his chest.

“Same,” John says quietly. “In all honesty, it was… probably my wedding.”

 “Damn, me too,” You let out a low laugh. “Did you go all out?”

“We tried,” he nods. “We had lessons and everything. I remember practising in our tiny apartment, knocking over chairs and swearing a ton.”

She grins. “I bet you were shit.”

John, very much in ‘John’ fashion, gasps. “Correction, I was the shit.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna show you. Get ready to be dipped.”

Your eyes widen as you look up at him, suspicion written all over your face. “No way. You’ll drop me.”

He smirks. “I won’t. Trust me. I’m strong and very capable.”

Before you can protest again, he spins you, just fast enough to make your stomach flip. And you squeal, laughing as you come back into his arms.

“See?” he says, proud as hell. “Didn’t hurt a hair on your pretty head.”

You’re still laughing, slightly breathless, heart thudding in your chest for reasons that have very little to do with the dancing.

“I hate to say it,” you murmur, “but that was quite smooth.”

“Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might think you like me.”

You look up at him and realise, you’ve never been this close to him, unless you count getting in his face at a soccer match, but this was different. It was a whole new type of tension. 

“Whatever…” you say, but it comes out with no bite. Not even close.

Maybe because you’re tipsy, but under the dim lighting of your living room, with the jazz still murmuring in the background and that stupid, crooked smile on his face.

You reach up, fingers brushing his cheek before you even fully realise what you're doing.

“I like your beard,” you blurt out, your thumb lightly grazing the line of it.

He blinks, surprised, not because of what you said, but because of how gently you said it.

“Yeah?” he says, voice a little quieter now.

He’s not able to get another word out before you’re kissing him, soft and tender. His hands cup your face as he kisses you like there’s a magnet pulling you to him. Your hands roaming over each other’s bodies, hands desperate to touch skin. He lifts you off the floor, your lips not breaking contact. You wrap your legs around his waist and his hands cup your ass as he walks you over to a wall. Pressing you against it and kissing your neck like he’s trying to consume you. “Oh, John…”

Breathing heavily and looking into each other’s eyes.“Upstairs, first door on the right.”

Your back hits the wall again, but gently this time, his lips brushing over yours before pulling back just enough to ask, “You sure?”

You nod, breathless. “Go.”

He carries you like it’s effortless, one hand steady beneath your thigh, the other gripping the bannister as he takes the stairs two at a time.

Reaching the top, he kicks the door open with his foot. The room is dim, the late evening light bleeding through the curtains, but neither of you cares. You pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. His mouth is on yours again before it hits the ground.

You fall into the bed together, tangled and wild and urgent, but with something else beneath it all. Something tender. Like every kiss and touch is catching up on lost time you didn’t even know you missed.

“Mind if I leave marks?”

“You can,” You gasp out and he goes to work, biting and sucking your skin. In all honesty, your drunk brain needed a memento, a way to remind sober-you that this wasn’t some sex dream. 

You feel his strong hands wrap around your wrists, and he squeezes them. Not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel his presence. 

“I want you,” John breathes and it sounds so good hearing it. Like you had both finally done away with pretense and given in to what you wanted to do since you met which was rip your clothes off and fuck eachother senseless. 

He starts kissing his way down your body, taking  his sweet time in making you feel good. Reveling in the way you react to him.

When he reaches your panties, he doesn’t hesitate to tug them off his teeth and the sight of him doing that nearly kills you. 

He starts eating you out like a man possessed, his beard tickling your inner thighs. He needs your pussy on his face and he needs it now. As he licks and sucks, driving you insane, your legs start slowly closing, trying to shy away from how good it felt. He catches them, prying them back open. 

“Keep them open for me.”

You nod but he wants more than that.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll keep my legs open for you,” You say and you think you’d do the splits on his face if he wanted. 

“Good girl,” he smirks before going back to ruining you. It had been too long since you felt like this, but even then, you had never felt like this. You were feverish and sensitive, fighting to keep yourself sane. You never recall feeling like you were dying of happiness when anyone else had gone down on you. Must be the John Walker effect.

The more you struggle and shake, the more pressure he applies. His hand rests on your stomach to hold you in place as he sucks on your clit.

Feeling the pleasure growing, you instantly try to muffle your moans with your fist. He moves his mouth away from your aching core and reaches up with one of his hands, moving your fist away. You look at him with reverence and surprise.

“You don’t need to hide…” He says, his other hand still moving inside you, “I want to hear you.”

You don’t speak right away. You just look at him, this man who had once driven you absolutely insane, who now felt like the only person who could see through all the armour.

“I’m not used to being seen,” you finally whisper.

“I know,” John says, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “But I see you.”

He moves back into position between your legs, and you let him have every moan you have. 

“John!” 

You finish, back arching, legs trembling and clenching down on his head with your thighs so hard you’re scared you might kill him. 

But he doesn't stop, instead going faster. “H-hey!” You moan out as you kick your legs around, which he clearly takes as a challenge.

Wrangling your legs and pinning them over your head, your body now in the shape of a backwards C.

“You’re lucky I’m not tying you up,” John comments and you shiver at how good that sounds. 

He gets up on his knees, continuing to lick at your trembling folds as he fingers you even faster, adding a third finger that had you moaning in desperation.

It's like he's set your whole body on fire, the feeling of your lost orgasm threatening to push you straight into another one.

“John, it’s so…” You croak, your eyes focusing and unfocusing. “Think I’m gonna cum again.”

At this point, your voice is hoarse, each touch he’s giving you making you scream and cry out like you’ve never done before. 

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl and cum for me?”

You nod, your eyes gassy with tears, “Wanna be your…your good girl.”

You could feel something coming, as he goes back to sucking on your clit, his fingers massaging your G-spot. 

It only takes a few moments before you're letting your body relax and squirt all over his fingers, the pleasure washing over you in waves. You’re too undone to make a noise, breathing heavily and choking on air. There are a few seconds where you think you’ve died.

He unfolds you, and you lie back down on the bed, needing him instantly. 

“John,” You whine, reaching out for him, and he’s right there, pulling you into his arms and taking care of you.

“What about you?” You ask. He had just about taken you to heaven and believe me you wanted to return the favour.

“Next time.”

Your heart flutters with the thought of a ‘next time’.

“Okay,” You snuggle against him and fall asleep together in pure bliss.  

You wake up in the morning, expecting to feel John’s arms around you. But there's no one there. You sit up and look around, but find nothing. No note explaining where he was and his car's no longer in the driveway.

You came to the conclusion, he woke up, saw you and decided that it was a mistake. It was disappointing but you’re used to being disappointed.

So much for ‘I see you’. 

So much for ‘next time’.

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

The next couple of days are a blur, it’s back to business as usual. Soccer practice, laundry, answering emails with a fake sense of urgency. To anyone else, it seemed like nothing had changed, but not to your daughter.

“I saw Tommy yesterday,” she says casually as she sets her backpack down.

“Oh? How is he?” you ask, trying to sound neutral.

“Great, but his dad didn’t look too happy…”

Your ears perk up at that. He was also miserable? Good. It was his fault anyway… wasn’t it?

“You don’t look happy either.”

You flinch at how blunt she is. You should’ve known, there was no hiding anything from her. She might only be a kid, but she could read you like a book.

“Lily…” you start, but she cuts you off with the maturity of someone far beyond her years.

“Just be adults and talk to him…”

“It's not that simple,” Your voice is shaky with uncertainty. You're not even sure you'd be able to speak if you were face-to-face with him again.

“Well you need to especially since I’m going over to Tommy’s today.”

“You what?” you say, nearly falling out of your chair.

“You said I could,” she adds quickly. “Last week, before… whatever this is.”

Damn it. She was right. You had completely blanked on that. It was before the whole thing with John went bust.

You were conflicted with how you felt about John, but you wouldn’t let your issues affect her. 

“Fine, go get your stuff. We leave in five.”

You drive over to his place, your heart dropping lower and lower as you get closer to his house. Your fingers grip your steering wheel like it’s your lifeline. 

“You’re not coming in to say hi?” Lily asks almost incredulously.

“I think it’s best I don’t. I’ll be here at 6 to pick you up. Have fun!”

Lily doesn’t say anything at first; she just looks at you, brows raised, lips pursed like she’s debating whether or not to push. Was that what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of your judging looks? You didn't like it one bit. 

But in the end, she sighs, unbuckles her seatbelt, and grabs her bag. “You two are so dramatic.”

He sees her first, ruffles her hair, then his gaze shifts past her, locking with yours through the windshield. It only lasts a second, but it’s enough. You look away first.

Then you drive off, trying not to think about him. 

Hours pass, John is very much on your mind the entire time, and before you know it, you’re back at his house to pick up Lily. Walking your way up the driveway, you feel your nerves creeping in. You hesitate a second before ringing the doorbell.

“Hey,” John greets you, opening the door—and he looks just as good as the last time you saw him, maybe even better.

“Hey yourself,” you reply awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

There's the sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs, and then Tommy appears, greeting you with a wide grin.

“It’s time to go already?” Lily calls from behind him, voice dripping with faux innocence. She was laying it on thick.

Before you can answer, Tommy jumps in. “Can you and Lily stay for dinner?”

“I don’t know…” You start, unsure how to say no politely.

“Dad, convince her. We’re having your famous spagbol,” Tommy adds, eyes hopeful.

You catch the look on his face—so earnest, so excited—and then turn to John. An easy smile creeps onto your face despite yourself. 

“Famous, huh?”

John smirks. “It’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

By the time dinner is ready, it feels easy with him, dangerously easy. You sit around the table with him and the kids, laughing between bites of spaghetti, the kind of domestic quiet that used to feel foreign now curling around you like a blanket. It felt so right. But still, there’s that persistent whisper in the back of your mind — If he wanted this, really wanted this, he would’ve stayed that night.

Before you can spiral too deep into your own thoughts, Tommy pipes up brightly, “Can Lily and I have a sleepover?”

You glance at John, caught off guard. “Lily and I should really get going, plus Lily doesn’t have anything to change into.”

“I brought clothes and my toothbrush,” Lily says far too quickly.

You narrow your eyes. “And why did you do that if you were just supposed to stay for the afternoon?”

Lily and Tommy exchange a look — a guilty, sheepish look that screams we planned this.

John chuckles under his breath, clearly catching on. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says, glancing at you. “I could set up a spot for Lily in Tommy’s room.”

“You should stay too!” Tommy adds enthusiastically, eyes shining with innocent matchmaking energy.

“I don’t have any pyjamas to sleep in, Tom,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“You can borrow my dad’s!” he says like it’s the simplest solution in the world.

You blink. These kids were really committing to the bit.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” You begin, your voice a little quieter, your gaze flicking to John.

“You wouldn’t be,” he says, meeting your eyes. “I have a guest room. It’s yours if you want it.”

His voice is calm, but there’s something soft in it. An invitation. Like he wanted you to stay. 

“It’s decided then,” Your daughter interjects before you can try to squirm out of it.

You had been tricked by two 9-year-olds; this was a new low. 

The hours drifted by as you sat in the living room, all watching a movie together.

Your eyes were fixed on the screen, but all you could think about was John. The fact that sitting just a few feet away, but still felt so far away. 

Though if you had turned your head to look at him, you would’ve seen him looking back at you. His gaze would tell you everything you wanted to hear, but alas, that isn’t fate’s plan. 

The movie ends, and the kids groan when John tells them it’s time for bed. It’s a whirlwind, as they rush around tuckering themselves out. Entering Tommy’s room, you go over to Lily, who’s already in bed, ready for you to tuck her in. You pull the blanket up to Lily’s chin, smoothing her hair like you do most nights, your voice soft in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

“Remember, be an adult,” Lily says, reminding you not to be a coward, essentially. 

“Goodnight, Lil,” You reply before kissing her forehead. Maybe, just maybe, you’d consider her words. 

“Goodnight, Mom,” she murmurs, already half-dreaming.

You stand slowly, and as you turn to leave, you notice Tommy looking at you. His eyes are peeking out from under his blanket, lids heavy but alert.

You pause. “Do you want me to tuck you in, too?”

He hesitates, then gives the smallest nod, like he’s not quite sure he should, but wants to anyway.

You gently and carefully tuck him into his covers like you had with Lily. “There,” you whisper. “Comfy?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing one eye. “Thanks, Mom.”

You’re shocked hearing him call you ‘Mom’. You glance down at him, already drifting off, lashes fluttering against his cheeks, completely unaware of the weight his words carried.

You swallow and manage a quiet, “Goodnight,” brushing his hair back gently before slipping out of the room. What you don’t know is that on the other side of the hallway, just out of sight, John is standing perfectly still.

He’d heard it too.

He didn’t know how to respond to it either, wasn’t sure what it meant or what came next, but for now, he was just… happy. Happy that his son felt safe with you. 

Later that night, you lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling of the guest room, your thoughts louder than the quiet hum of the house. The shadows shift with the streetlight outside, but your mind stays frozen. You were wearing his shirt, and he was on your mind. It smelled like him, and you could imagine his arms around you. You bury your face in it, wishing that he was with you and not in a room down the hallway. 

You needed to confront what happened that night. You hadn’t talked about it since. It lingered like static between you, unspoken but never forgotten. And you couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t matter, not when it meant everything. 

You needed to know if he wanted you when you’re both sober.

So, gathering every ounce of courage, you throw off the blanket, slide quietly out of bed, and make your way down the hall to his room. The floor feels colder than you expected. Or maybe that’s just your nerves.

You stop in front of his door.

Raise your fist.

And then… freeze.

You stand there for what feels like forever, five minutes, at least, your knuckles hovering midair. Your heart pounds loud enough to fill the silence, your thoughts racing. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if that night was just a mistake?

Suddenly, the door swings open, and it startles the living hell out of you — your fist, already midair, connects squarely with his face.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper-shout, eyes wide as John stumbles back, one hand instantly flying to his nose.

“Shit,” he groans, squinting in pain and trying to blink away the surprise. “You can throw quite a punch.”

“Oh my god, John. Holy fuck. I am so, so sorry,” you ramble, panic surging through you as you hover uselessly in front of him. “Let me get ice, I’ll fix it… just, don’t die.”

You spin around and scuttle off toward the kitchen, trying to keep your footsteps light even though your heart’s thudding like a drum solo. The freezer is a disaster. No ice trays. Who doesn’t have ice trays?

You spot something. Grab it.

Moments later, you return with a sheepish expression and a frozen bag clutched in your hand.

“I couldn’t find an ice tray,” you mutter, pressing the bag gently to his face, “so I got peas.”

You sit down with him on the bed, holding the bag of peas to his nose. “That won’t bruise or anything, right?”

“No, I’ll be okay. Worried about my handsome face, are you?” John jokes, and you’re just glad he has a sense of humour about it. 

You groan and drop your forehead onto his shoulder, mortified. “This was not how I pictured this going.”

His hand gently touches the small of your back. “You were coming to talk to me, right? About… us?”

You nod against him. “Yeah. Before I assaulted you.”

“Let’s start there,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes with a crooked smile. “Because I was kinda hoping we’d finally talk about it too.”

“Really? It didn’t feel like that since you ran,” you say, voice low. You were trying not to sound hurt, but you were. He weighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders and moves his bag of peas off his face to look at you.

“You’re right to be mad. I just… I panicked when I woke up next to you.”

“You were regretful,” you say, attempting to finish his sentence. His eyes widen, and his mouth parts like he’s about to protest.

“No, no—that’s not it at all. I was scared. That if you saw me when you woke up, you’d think it was a mistake.”

He takes a breath, shuffling closer. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You’re such a pain in the ass, always calling me out and keeping me on my toes. But also kind, and funny, and you make me feel so… alive.”

His hand lifts gently, your cheek resting against his palm. It feels perfect, like this is what fate had in store all along.

“I'm an idiot for running but I do like you. I’m falling for you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, heart racing. “I’m falling for you, too, John Walker.”

Pulling him in, your hands still cold and wet from holding the bag of peas, but he doesn’t care. You kiss him like it’s the only thing keeping you upright—like if you stop, everything might collapse around you. 

The two of you pull your clothes off each other's bodies but there's no rush. Each layer that comes off brings you that much closer together.

Now completely naked you sit in front of him and you can see why he has all that confidence. His fingers tangle in your hair and he's about to kiss you when you stop him.

“Will they hear?”

“There's a couple rooms between us, they won't hear as long as you're not too loud.”

“We both know that's going to be a challenge,”You say, recalling the way you were hollering when he ate you out. You're surprised that none of your neighbours issued a noise complaint.

“You need to try or I'll have to find something to gag you with,” John suggests, his voice low and sultry.

“Don't threaten me with a good time.”

He pressures you back into the bed and bites your neck hard enough to leave a big mark.

“You better hope no one asks about that.”

“Let them ask, you can explain to them exactly what I did to you.”

The marks don't stop there. By the time he's done you look like you've been attacked by a wild animal. Hickeys and love bites littered all over your skin, each one a testament of John's desire for you.

“Need you inside me,” You pant out already guiding him towards you with your legs. 

He looks down at you with hooded eyes the anticipation eating you alive before he wraps his arms around you and carries you off the bed.

“Where are we—?” You start but don't finish as you notice he's plopped you down right in front of a mirror.

It's the perfect solution for when someone wants to fuck you from behind and see you fall apart of their cock. Thank everything for whoever invented mirrors.

He lightly kicks your feet apart, hands gliding up your body before resting on your boobs.

You getting back against him, trying to feel him and needing him to fuck the daylights out of you. It had been long enough and you were tired of waiting. 

“Impatient, aren't you?”

“I just need you. Don't make me suffer,” You pout, the mirror capturing the needy look in your eyes. 

“Well, who am I to say no to you?” He says before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in.

Anticipating the screen you were about to let out, he covers your mouth with his hand.  Only the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing in the room. 

“Look at yourself, look at how quickly you feel apart for me,” John whispers against your ear. And he was right. You were a complete mess after only a few thrusts, eyes watery as your neck arches into him.

“So good,” You manage to get out without screaming. He grabs you by the hair, exposing your neck too him as he gives you a few more hickeys for good measure. Rocking your hips into you as he paints your neck with his lips.

Suddenly, your hips are being lifted into the air as he wraps his arms around you as if getting ready to suplex you. The way he starts fucking you is just as disorientating as a suplex would be. He's hitting your sensitive spot dead on turning your legs to jelly as they dangle in the air.

He's manhandling like you're a doll and you love it, especially when you can see it all happening in the mirror. The way his veins on his arms were popping with effort as he milks his cock with your pussy like you're a fleshlight.

“That's it, breed me, John.”

Hearing you say that only made him double his efforts.

“Is that what you want? Want me to get you pregnant?” John says, his fingers gripping your hips, clearly excited at the prospect. You nod desperately like you need to have it or you'll die.

You gasp, whimper, cry and reaching out for anything to keep you quiet.

“N-need you to fill me up,” You stutter out, “Need your cum in me.”

Then you're given a brief break when he pulls you back from the mirror, tossing you back into the bed. But two seconds don't even pass before he's feeding his cock back into your needy hole.

“J-john!”

You squeal a little too loudly and never you know it his hand is on your chin guiding your own panties in your mouth. 

“Such a pretty sight,” John says as he cages you, fingers intertwining as he pins you against the bed.

 You know you won't be able to keep going much longer. Wrecked doesn't even begin to describe what you were and your orgasm was about to knock you into a whole new dimension.

Feeling his cock twitch, you lock your legs around his waist and he finishes deep inside of you which triggers your own orgasm. His hot cum fills you up, painting your fluttering walls as he effectively breeds you.

The both of you lay there catching your breath as your orgasms pulse through you. This was what life was about; having sex with hot single dads. 

You come back to your senses, just barely and have an evil idea.

Seeing the opportunity fate had presented you for payback, you flip your positions climbing on top of him and riding him into overstimulation. A strangled cry that was supposed to be your name falling from his lips. 

“Baby…” John whimpers as his body tenses up, abs contracting like he's already about to cum again.

You could get used to having him at your mercy, bottom lip trembling as he tries to keep it together. 

“I like seeing you like this. So desperate for me and only me.” You pulling him to your lips by his hair. He groans but he's into it, he'd let you have your way with him just as much as you let him have his way with you.

“Only you,” He replies and you believe it. 

Your hand away from his hair, letting John's head hit the mattress, before going in and leaving your own string of love bites. He bites his lip, all but writhing under your soft touch. 

“Someone might see those.”

“Then you can explain to them what I did,” You say throwing his words back in his face.

You keep fucking until you tire yourselves out, your bodies sticky and heaving. It was as good as you imagined it would be and you're kicking yourself for not giving in earlier.

John's hand rests on your thigh tracing little patterns as you play with his hair when he asks a very pertinent question.

“Are you on birth control?”

Your eyes widen when you realise you are in fact not on birth control. With the downright sad lack of sex you were having before John walked into your life there was no reason to be on it.

“No”, You gulp,“We'll talk about it in the morning?”

John hums in agreement and holds you against his chest in a vice grip that screams “You're mine.”

In the morning, you’re happy to feel John’s arms still wrapped around you, his face pressed against your shoulder, his breath slow and even. Peaceful.

“Who wants pancakes?” you call out, later in the kitchen, sliding a golden stack onto the table with a grin.

You have a slow, sweet morning breakfast—the kind where everyone’s still in pyjamas, laughing over spilt flour and slightly burnt edges.

“Oh! Let me go get the syrup. Can you show me where it is, Tommy?” you ask.

Tommy nods enthusiastically, hopping up and heading toward the pantry with you, eager to help you find it.

Back at the table, Lily narrows her eyes at John, clearly sizing him up. Then, dead serious, she delivers:

“If you hurt my mom, you die. Understood?”

John blinks, caught off guard for a second, but then a slow smile tugs at his lips. He knew exactly where she got that intensity from.

“Understood.”

“Good,” Lily says, her expression finally softening. “You make great spagbol so I'd hate to have to kill you.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

It’s been a few months since you and John started dating — the kind of comfortable, lived-in months where you had keys to each other's places, regularly took the kids out together, and fell asleep on the couch on each other. 

Unlocking the door, John and Tommy step inside, and they’re immediately hit with the scent of burnt toast, a low hum of music, and the unmistakable energy of mild chaos. They were here to pick you and Lily up to carpool to the Saturday morning game, but it looked like they’d walked into a warzone, and at least it smelled like pancakes.

“Morning!” Tommy calls out as he looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. 

“Oh hi, guys,” you pant out from somewhere in the kitchen, out of breath and flustered. He doesn’t need to be able to see you to know you’re going through it.

Lily’s sitting at the dining room table, calmly sipping orange juice like she’s been through this before. Tommy runs over and sits beside Lily, swiping a pancake off her plate.

“Mom’s having a meltdown,” she says, totally unbothered. “It’s pretty intense. She yelled at the coffee machine.”

John raises an eyebrow and walks to the kitchen, and there you are, wearing one sock and a hoodie that you actually stole from John, batter on your cheek, surrounded by open containers and the remnants of pancake making.

“It’s so good to see you,” You cry as you practically jump into his arms. You let go of him so you can continue your spiral when he stops you. 

“Honey, you’re running around like a headless chicken. Let me help,” John offers.

You hesitate, then sigh and reach into the mess on the counter and pull out a hairbrush. “Can you finish braiding Lil’s hair for me? She’s lost her lucky cleats, and I need to find them before we leave.”

“On it.”

He kisses your forehead, warm and steady, before heading into the kitchen.

Lily watches him approach with guarded suspicion. “Please don’t mess this up.”

John grins. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional.”

He ruffles her hair on purpose, just to rile her up, and she bats his hand away with a huff and a laugh. 

Meanwhile, you’re darting around the house in full-on panic mom mode — lifting couch cushions, checking under the bed, even inside the fridge for some reason (you never know), until finally, you spot the missing shoes. Inside her toy chest, naturally, buried under a plastic tiara and two mismatched Barbie legs.

You walk back into the dining room to the sound of laughter, Tommy’s head thrown back as John tells some ridiculous story, funny voices and all. Lily’s giggling along too as he finishes tying off the braid with surprising skill.

You lean against the doorframe, heart swelling. It’s loud, it’s messy, but it’s yours. And in that moment, it hits you: this is what happy looks like.

“Found it,” you say, holding the shoes up triumphantly.

John looks up, grinning. “See? I told you everything would come together.”

You smile at him. This is perfect; he’s perfect.

“Are we ready to go?” you call out, grabbing your bag and keys.

They respond in a chorus of “Yeah!” and “Almost!” as shoes squeak across the floor.

Clambering into the car like a small tornado, Tommy buckles in and grins over at Lily. “Losing team’s parent buys ice cream,” he declares.

“Ohhh, bold move,” you say, raising your eyebrows in the rearview mirror.

“Looks like you’re buying ice cream,” John says smugly, sliding into the driver's seat, glancing at you like he already knows today’s outcome.

“In your dreams,” you shoot back, smirking as you start the engine.

This was the kind of happiness that sneaks up on you when you’re not paying attention—and all it took was yelling at a hot dad at a soccer game.

Masterlist

[bueckeroses]

HER CHEERLEADER ⋆ 𐙚 ̊. — paige bueckers

Synopsis: In Paige’s last year at UConn, she expected to keep her head down, focus, and enjoy her last year of collegiate basketball. Little did she know a shy cheerleader with a pretty face would change that.

paige bueckers x lesbian!reader

content: swearing, unwanted advances by a man 🤢 but paige saves the day dw, alcohol, smut, smut and smut ! fingering, teasing, multiple orgasms, humping, scissoring, shy!reader, dom!paige

notes: my first post !! hope you enjoy 🥹 also i know south dakota was paige’s last home game but this follows my own timeline lmao so let’s pretend it was one of the first. also take a shot every time i say paige bueckers.

The stadium, every seat filled to the brim with clusters of people, was alight with the excitement of the ongoing game. Stomping feet, clapping hands, and shouts of cheers were the few sounds entering your ears, all because of one team: the UConn Huskies.

One of the first of their home games, UConn were nearing the end of their match against South Dakota State, essentially securing their win with double the points against the opposing team.

And of course, the star of the show whose name was plastered as the main event at every UConn game, was Paige Bueckers.

Her near perfect scoring this game couldn’t be refuted. The way she played like she had everything to lose, her dominance on the court, and her smile of confidence every time the ball she threw landed in the hoop was downright addicting to watch.

The girl had every pair of eyes in the room drawn to her. And, of course, that also meant yours.

Sat on the floor amongst your team, your pom poms shaking in an organised routine along with the other cheerleaders, you watched on with great interest. Basketball was always a sport you wouldn’t particularly choose to watch in your spare time, but ever since you joined the team, you had discovered a newfound passion for the game. And — much to your dismay — it was majorly because of the attractive blonde basketball player.

It was your first year on the cheerleading squad, after your best friend ( who sat to the right of you ) begged you with every fibre of her being to try out for the team. Her sole reasoning and main argument for you donning the cheerleader uniform was that you were desperately single, and needed a basketball girlfriend pronto. You, instead, wanted to join because you were tired of your boring routine: attending lectures, studying, occasionally partaking in a party your friends dragged you to, and ending most nights alone in your dorm, watching romance films until you felt the loneliness seeping into your body.

So far it was a welcome change, all the girls on the team were lovely and extremely friendly. You had briefly met some of the players you were cheering on but had yet to be fully introduced to them; you doubted you would be sitting down and swapping life stories with them anytime soon, however. Their schedules, especially with the new season, were probably completely hectic and busy, and you doubted they had time for even themselves.

Cheers erupted as Paige secured another hoop, you and the rest of the cheerleaders jumping up and celebrating the 3 point throw. Your best friend, Catherine, who was infamous for her constant teasing and outspoken attitude leant over and spoke with a shit-eating grin on her face, acting as if she was in on a massive secret that you weren’t. “Did you just see that look Bueckers gave you? Like you were a dessert she couldn’t wait to devour once the game is over?”

Your head whipped around to face her, an incredulous expression painted on your face. You laughed slightly at the out of the blue comment, not even a little surprised at the beyond ridiculous statement escaping from Cat’s mouth. “You’re kidding, right? Paige doesn’t even know I exist, she was probably looking at someone else.”

You sat down once more with the rest of your team, your best friend not willing to give up so easily with her taunting; the blush rising on your cheeks simply giving her more ammunition.

“C’mon, Y/N. Please don’t tell me you’re as blind as I think you are. That was, like, the third time Paige looked at you this game, and who could blame her? You look fucking sexy!”

Your rolled your eyes, shaking your head in flat out refusal. The stadium erupted into cheers for the millionth time that night; Paige aiding Sarah Strong to score a two pointer. The many pom poms surrounding you made it harder to hear a single word Cat was saying, and you thought it was for the better. You waited until the stadium calmed down somewhat before replying to her.

“Drop it, Cat. There’s no way Paige Bueckers was looking at me. I’m like — I dunno — an ant compared to her!”

Now it was Cat’s turn to roll her eyes, “Well to me it looked like Paige was ready to strip you naked with that one look, but what do I know?”

“Nothing, apparently.” Your conversation was cut short by the last score of the night, KK Arnold managing to sneak one last shot in before the timer quickly fell to 0, the score being 91-57 to UConn.

Your team quickly praised the win of your college, jumping up with the most enthusiasm that entire night. The players of both teams slapped hands in their traditional, respectful way, whilst you and the rest of the girls wasted no time jumping into your end of game cheer routine, a simple show of celebration for UConn that added to the atmosphere of excitement circulating the stadium.

After the quick show was over, the players made their rounds around the audience to show their appreciation, whilst you and your friends waited until most of the crowd had dispersed before exiting yourselves. Whilst biding your time, however, you just couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the famous blonde. Paige’s pony swished back and forth as she walked quickly with her team, her smile of pure euphoria an addicting sensation to you. And, much to your notice, the sweat on her body — the majority on her rather muscled arms and back — gleamed underneath the bright lighting.

Heat rose on your face as you imagined if there was some semblance of truth to Cat’s words, that the fine basketball player who captured many hearts of fans was actually interested in you. You quickly realised you were being ridiculous, however. The only way you were going to be with Paige Bueckers was in your dreams, and you were lucky if even that happened.

As if knowing there were a certain pair of eyes on her, Paige’s head turned in your direction, her heated gaze locked onto yours. Despite desperately not wanting to, you quickly turned away, biting your lip as you hopelessly wished Paige didn’t think you were a creepy fan obsessed cheerleader who stared at her constantly ( and maybe you were, but she didn’t need to know that ).

You willed yourself not to return her gaze as you collected your belongings and helped your team with the end of game shenanigans, partaking in conversations with a few of the girls to distract yourself from your sweaty palms and butterfly filled stomach.

At this point, you would do anything to get your mind off of the 6 foot girl who made your heart race a little too fast.

Every bone in Paige’s body ached, the delightful soreness of a game well played was Paige’s ideal end to the night; her aching muscles were a small price to pay for another hard earned win under her belt.

The feeling of being one game closer to the end of her time at UConn was bittersweet, but she had a long ways to go until the official goodbye of her college career; she would savour every moment knowing she worked her absolute hardest to get to the position she was in right now.

Scalding water trailed down her naked body, her hand pressed against the stone wall of the shower as she let the water soothe her throbbing muscles ever so slightly. She ran a hand down her face to remove the sweat of the match, droplets clinging to her eyelashes as she gazed upon the flooring of the stall.

Paige Bueckers was not one to linger in the shower for long. Much unlike Jana, who had the team wondering constantly if she somehow fell asleep in the shower stall because of how long the girl took. No, Paige was quick and efficient, not wanting to fall victim to the shower thoughts that would undoubtedly keep her trapped under the hot water. Despite her quick showers, though, Paige always made sure she was clean and smelled good before exiting.

Today, however, was different, because she had far too many thoughts that she wished to deal with before she left the stadium. And they all revolved around a new cheerleader, whose perfect, pretty face couldn’t escape her brain.

Paige had only seen her a handful of times before, noticing that she was a new member amongst the returning cheerleading team of the UConn women’s basketball.

Paige was not one to be distracted by pretty girls. Not like Aubrey, whose smooth talking and flirtatious ways had every lesbian in a mile radius in love with her. Paige was the opposite. She was aware of her sexuality — had known for years she was gay — but she lived and breathed basketball, and other than a few flings here and there, she focused her entire attention on the sport.

Until now, apparently.

Washing the shea butter shower gel gently of her skin, she exited the shower before her thoughts ran too deep. She donned her sports bra and sweats, throwing her towel over her shoulder as she entered the locker room, where most of her team were relaxing.

“There she is! How you feeling, Bueckers?”

Paige smiled at Kaitlyn, setting her towel on the side as she walked towards her open locker to retrieve her trainers. “Fucking sore is what I am, how’re you guys feeling?”

The girls answered in turn, conversations flowed about the game they just had, one of their best matches to start the season with. They had, of course, already delved into their run down of the match with Geno, so their talks now just focused on their joy of winning.

Spirits were high, and Paige savoured the moments of just relaxing with her team. And then, of course, KK Arnold: troublemaker and known for her jokes, had to open her mouth and taunt her favourite friend.

“So, Paige, do you wanna share with the class your undying love for the newest cheerleader?” The girl had a large grin on her face, her hand on her heart like she was narrating a Shakespeare novel in a drama class. She was clearly loving that she had a new target to tease her best friend with.

Paige scoffed, rolling her eyes lightheartedly at the comment, deciding not to reveal her true feelings out in the open. “Delusional is what you are, KK.”

Leaning against her locker, her arms crossed as a joyous smile appeared across her face, Azzi Fudd decided to betray her years of friendship with Paige to side with KK in the matter ( or that’s how Paige saw it as, anyhow ). “No, KK’s right, it must’ve been, what? One, three, ten times you must’ve stared at the girl?”

Sarah giggled at Azzi’s comment, piping up that she agreed with them both. “You gotta admit, Paige, it was basically love at first sight.”

“Okay, is it all gang up on Paige day? The fuck is this?” Paige reached for her hoodie, now wanting to escape from the group of hyenas as soon as possible. There were barely any secrets held back between the team, so Paige wasn’t exactly surprised they had picked up on her latest … crush.

The instigator began to laugh at the mess she created, KK standing up and reaching for her jacket. “Not that I can blame you, Paige, she is fucking gorgeous. If you don’t claim her soon, I might have to swoop in and—”

Paige, using the towel that lay on the bench, whacked KK’s arm, ignoring the dramatic yell the girl let out. The girls laughed, Aubrey piping up with a comment that Paige was already protective of her future girlfriend.

“Look, I don’t even know her name, let alone if she’s gay,” Paige sighed, begrudgingly admitting to her friends the next part. “Besides I don’t think she’s interested, she couldn’t even look at me.”

“Yeah, because you’re Paige fucking Bueckers. Of course she’s nervous as shit to look at you!” KK retorted.

Ayanna, strapping her bag across her chest in a hurry to no doubt see her girlfriend, even put her two cents in. “Yeah, when I went over to Lili at the end, your girl was basically sneaking glances at you every 5 seconds.”

“Yeah, I know her best friend, Cat. Apparently, she’s just an extremely shy person.” Azzi leant over to put her trainers on, tying her laces as she added, “Oh, her name’s Y/N by the way.”

Ignoring their teasing until they had another conversation to focus on, Paige couldn’t help but think of the new cheerleader with her cute doe eyes, shy smile, and perfect uniform that fit snugly against her body. She didn’t know if there was any truth to Ayanna’s comment, but it did nothing to help her heartbeat slow.

Y/N, a pretty name for a pretty girl. Fuck, she thought, she was completely fucking screwed.

Attending a party was honestly the last thing on your mind tonight. When your new friend on the team, Hanna, had knocked upon your door and dragged you out of your dorm with a quick explanation of ‘party!’ you knew you had no choice but to agree.

The majority of the cheer squad were holed up in Hanna’s rather large dorm, Cat focused on applying a generous amount of makeup on her face before dragging you to sit by her side, demanding you pretty up for your future girlfriend. “Paige will definitely be there tonight. They can’t drink alcohol, but them players party hard. Trust me.”

It didn’t take long for you all to get ready and make your way to the party. You had to borrow one of Hanna’s roommate’s outfits, a black mini skirt and a crop top that showed far too much cleavage than you were comfortable with. Your friends spoke the opposite, however, saying unabashedly how sexy you looked.

The bodies of young college adults either high or drunk mingled in the large house, music blaring and lights flashing as you entered.

It didn’t take long for you to loosen up, two drinks in and you were beginning to feel the normalcies of college life. You weren’t drunk by any means, just not as sober as you were entering the party. Cat, much to your amusement, was chatting up her latest fling, the closeness she had with the guy basically inferred that she would most likely be leaving with him tonight. Of course, as she always did, she would make sure you were okay first before she left.

You had gone to collect another drink whilst Cat was busy, deciding three was your maximum for tonight. On your way over, however, you accidentally bumped into someone. Your eyes looked up to see Dylan, a guy in your business class who often overstepped his boundaries with you. Flirty comments and unwanted advances were usually his forte.

“Oh, hey, look who it is.” Dylan wolf whistled as he looked you up and down, not at all shy with his gaze. He was definitely drunk, barely standing straight as his speech began to slur. “Damn, you look hot as fuck, Y/N.”

You winced at his words. For one: you were a lesbian, and even if you didn’t shout it from the rooftops, it was pretty obvious to anyone who knew you. And second: even if you were interested in guys, you were 101% sure that Dylan would be at the bottom of that fucking list. But still, your shy demeanour meant you hated confrontation, so you tried your best to be polite.

“Um, thanks, I guess.” You attempted to quickly move around him to avoid any further conversation, but his large frame was blocking the table where the drinks were located. “I just wanted to get a drink is all—”

“Hey Y/N?” He attempted to grab your waist, one that you thankfully managed to dodge. Still, he attempted his best to move closer to you. “You wanna get outta here? You know, go somewhere a little more private?”

You immediately shook your head in refusal, wanting to move backwards to escape his presence but bodies of dancing people made you unable to do so. You weren’t exactly the shortest person, but your height wasn’t much compared to a 5’11 guy who filled every checklist of a stereotypical jock. He was either too drunk to get the hint or simply didn’t care. You spoke with a more pleading tone now. “No, I’m not interested—”

“Hey!” A loud — and rather aggressive — voice shouted out overtop of the deafening music beating against every surface in the house. At first the voice seemed distant, but you soon recognised that the person was behind you, getting closer as she continued to speak with hostility laced within every syllable. “Get the fuck away from her.”

Turning your head to look at your saviour, you almost couldn’t believe it when Paige Bueckers sidestepped around you, wasting no time before instantly shoving your harasser off of you. She was not gentle with her push, and Dylan was more than shaken up, stumbling back a few steps from the force of the blow. Her height also helped somewhat, she stood a few inches taller than him and she basically towered over you, stepping in front of you so her whole body covered yours.

To your belief, the guy was bordering on an absolute moronic level of drunk. Completely ignoring the fact that he nearly fell into the table behind him, he attempted to lighten the mood, despite having a pissed off, 6 foot basketball player in front of him. “Oh shit, Paige Bueckers!— ”

Paige didn’t even allow him to finish his sentence before interrupting him, standing somewhat close to him so he could hear her every word, but not straying too far from you. You could barely see Dylan because of her frame obscuring your view. “I fucking swear,” she began, gritting her teeth as anger seeped through her every word. “If you ever go near her again, I will fuck you up. You hear me?”

Despite being content with never seeing his face again, you desperately wanted to witness his reaction to Paige’s vitriol, so you stood on your toes to look over her shoulder. What you saw satisfied you immensely, a choked laugh escaping your lips.

Dylan’s face was full of intimidation and fear, nodding his head vigorously to show he understood what Paige had demanded. At least even in his drunken stupor, he was smart enough to not pull out the macho man card, and accepted that he was simply in a losing battle.

“Good,” Paige nodded, her tone now emanating with a calmer, less aggressive rage. “Now, fuck off.”

He quickly scampered away, losing himself in the crowd of dancing bodies clambering together. Paige watched on for a couple of seconds, ensuring he was far away from you. You were almost dumbfounded at what had just happened, the whole moment going by far too quickly for you to decipher it.

Paige soon turned back to you, her gaze settling on yours within an instant. The tension between the two of you was so palpable you could almost feel it in the air, and you quickly took your chance to admire her, your eyes roaming over her entire physique.

Her hair was slicked back in her infamous bun, the studs in her ears matching the simple chain around her neck. She wore a UConn hoodie and black jeans, a casual outfit that had you looking rather overdressed when compared to her. She had no makeup on her face, and the confidence she displayed mixed with just her in general was such a turn on for you that you had to calm yourself down before she spoke.

Paige gave you a brief look up and down, her eyes settling on yours as she took a step closer, head bent ever so slightly to accommodate the size difference. “Hey,” she spoke, her voice miles softer now it was directed towards you. “Are you okay? The guys around here can be fucking assholes.”

You kept your gaze on her blue eyes, finding it a million times harder now to draw your stare away that you were so close. You couldn’t help but think to yourself how fucking hot she looked: her outfit, the way she tilted her head so she could hear you when you eventually spoke, how she gripped her phone in her hand, the way her hand flexed as she gripped her phone, just her fingers in general—

Basically, you were fucking screwed.

And then, you realised you hadn’t even answered her back, because you were too busy fucking staring at her. Idiot.

“Oh! Um.” You shook your head to attempt to get rid of the dirty thoughts laced within every part of your brain where Paige was concerned, and attempted to muster a normal conversation with the girl. “Y-yeah, I’m okay. Thank you so much for that, you honestly didn’t have to.”

Paige took her chance to move one step closer, the closeness between the two of you now doing nothing to help calm your racing heart. She shook her head in refusal. “Nah, I can’t stand it when ugly as fuck guys refuse to leave pretty girls alone.”

Oh. Oh.

Despite the almost dark lighting in the place, — harshy lit leds being the only source of light in the room — you could feel feel how flushed your cheeks were, the heat of nervousness rushing to your head.

Paige fucking Bueckers just called you pretty. You honestly wouldn’t be shocked if you had a heart attack in the middle of this party; your heart was basically threatening to jump out of your chest with how fast it was beating.

You couldn’t help the cheesy smile that graced your lips. Your grin so wide as you avoided eye contact, tucking your hair behind your ear as you glanced at the floor, building up the courage to take a step further towards her, nearing chest to chest with the girl. Raising your eyes to hers, you managed to take ahold of your shy nature to give her a proper reply.

“Well, I appreciate it. Seriously, thank you.” You debated asking your next question, but decided your usual nervous personality was being thrown out the window tonight. “Are you here with anyone?”

Paige smirked, probably taking your question as you flirting … which you definitely were. You didn’t have too much practice when it came to chatting up girls, as you were usually too oblivious to notice when they were interested in you. Luckily, Cat’s comments earlier that day about how Paige was attracted to you had taken root in your brain, making you more confident than you usually were.

Your eyes were fixated on her every move, especially when her tongue poked the side of her cheek; the motion had you so focused it was hard to draw your eyes away. She probably took notice to your constant staring, but honestly, it was almost impossible to look away from her. Simply put, she was addicting.

Paige tucked her hands into her hoodie pocket before replying. “Just my team, most of them are out there flirting though, so I got left behind.” The music then changed, switching from a calm R&B song to a more upbeat and deafening pop tune, making it all the more harder to hear each other.

Paige bent her head closer to you, her mouth hovering near your ear, her lips just barely brushing your skin as she spoke. The breath that escaped her had goosebumps trailing all along your body, starting from the back of your neck and moving downwards. The close proximity did nothing to calm you down by any means, only heightening the sexual tension that was already amid the air between the two of you. “And you?”

The now extreme closeness had you stumbling over your words, making it all the more obvious how affected you were by her mere presence. “I-I came here with my team as well, but I don’t have a clue where any of them are. My best friend is probably making out with some guy.”

Your eyes settled on the drink table, and quickly averted your gaze. Nothing seemed less appealing to you than drinking another sip of alcohol tonight, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were literally flirting with Paige Bueckers, you wouldn’t be lingering at this party at all. You decided to voice that to her, even if you wanted to stay to spend every second you could with the girl.

“Honestly, I was just gonna go home after one more drink. Partying’s not really my scene. Especially with what happened before…”

You took your chance to face Paige, wanting to see her face fully and not glimpse at her out of the corner of your eye. Her gaze softened, her tone becoming more gentle after your confession.

“Hey.” Her hand automatically reached for your waist, her tender touch settling on the bare expanse of your skin. Immediately, your nerves were set on fire, your face heating up as you felt Paige’s caress. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were beginning to feel turned on at the feel of even a simple touch from the basketball player.

You had just met her, and yet you couldn’t help but feel so deeply attracted to her.

She carried on speaking as if nothing was amiss. “You wanna leave? I can take you to your dorm if you want? I was gonna leave soon, anyway.”

You were rendered speechless for a slight second, taken aback by the kind gesture. It probably wouldn’t seem like much to someone else, but this was Paige Bueckers. You know, famous basketball player who had everyone falling at her feet. She probably had a million other important things to do tonight than walk you home. And yet, she was offering anyway.

Fuck. You were falling deeper than you realised.

“You … you’d do that? You’d walk me home?”

“Yeah,” Paige laughed at your expression, assuming you looked absolutely dumbfounded. “I’d rather you get home safe, I don’t trust that slimy fucker not to bother you again.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, crossing your arms over your chest. Paige dropped her hand from your waist, and you immediately began mourning the loss of her touch. “I think you scared him off for good.”

“I fucking better had.” She replied seriously, briefly — but not subtly — flicking her eyes one last time up and down your body before adding one more comment. “You ready to go now then, Ma?”

You nodded, a shy smile planting itself upon your face at the nickname. Her hand once again found your waist, and it was almost like she was craving the touch of you; not that you were complaining. Odd to think, it was like Paige’s hand was meant to be there, both of your bodies fitting together in all the right places.

You two soon made your way outside, breathing in fresh air and escaping the bustling crowd of drunk college students. You quickly sent a text to Cat, wanting to let her know where and who you were with, adding sporadically at the end of the message that you would let her know all the details tomorrow.

The odd person was seen loitering outside the building, either drunk, high, or sober enough to walk home. You and Paige soon escaped the presence of others, and found yourselves alone in the other’s company.

Even though the silence in the air was comfortable, you still wanted to fill it with conversation; selfishly just wanting to listen to Paige talk. You didn’t get a chance before you began to shiver, however, the cold air settling goosebumps along your skin. Paige, not walking too far from you, began to notice the shaking movement. “Hey, you cold?”

“Oh,” you started to reply. “I’ll be okay.”

Paige began reaching for the bottom of her hoodie, pulling the piece of clothing off her body. As she did so, you caught a glimpse of her stomach, her shirt riding up with the movement. Your breath hitched, immediately looking away so Paige didn’t catch you staring obsessively at her. It seemed too late though by the smirk on Paige’s face.

“Here,” she said, stopping you in your tracks and popping the hoodie over your head despite your protests. Your hair was quite frankly a mess after that, and Paige couldn’t help but tuck a piece behind your ear while you pulled your arms through. “Now you won’t freeze to death on my watch.”

“Thank you.” You laughed heartily, “You’re my knight in shining armour tonight.” The sweet smell of Paige’s perfume lingered on the hoodie, and you turned your head to bury your nose in the hood settling on your shoulder. It looked like you were attempting to heat your face up in the warm material, but secretly you just wanted to catch more of Paige’s scent.

Whether it was Paige’s obvious actions towards you, or your own confidence growing by the second, you decided for once in your life to be bold. You decided it was now or never to go after something you truly wanted, and to not let your shy self stop you.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Damn, one more thing, Ma? You’re a needy one.” Paige joked, purposefully walking into you, nudging her shoulder against yours to show her banter.

You jokingly rolled your eyes, biting your lip as the smile on your face faltered ever so slightly as you began to speak. “Earlier today, at the game … was it me you were looking at? I mean, if you were staring at some other girl, it would be no problem at all! I was just wondering—”

You were soon cut off from your rambling. Despite walking for a good length of time, you hadn’t even realised the two of you had reached the building to your dorm. The reason you were stopped short was because someone — coincidentally— walked out of the building the same time you and Paige neared the entrance. The universe, as you interpreted it, was basically saying fuck you.

You were honestly embarrassed by your question, and you started to feel annoyed at yourself for ruining what seemed to be the almost perfect night. You and Paige were quickly in the elevator to go to your room, and you were somewhat confused as to why she was accompanying you.

The two of you were soon outside your dorm room, having not said a single word to each other since you had spoken up before. You turned around to face Paige, not wanting to end the night on a sour note, never knowing if you were going to speak to her again. Maybe a little dramatic, but she was essentially a celebrity on campus, and you were an unknown cheerleader who was a regular student. It wasn’t likely you two would cross paths like this again.

Paige, however, must’ve had the same thought, as the two of you began to speak at the exact same time. “Hey, I’m so sorry for—”

“Shit, Y/N, I—”

You both stopped, laughing slightly at the incredulous moment. Her smile was honestly addicting to witness, the fondness in your heart growing ever more bigger at every single thing Paige did. The tone turned serious once more, Paige now being the one to speak up, rambling as she let her thoughts out without missing a beat.

“Fuck — to answer your question, of course I was looking at you during the game. I mean, you’re fucking gorgeous.” She raised her hand to scratch the back of her neck in a nervous gesture, her accent coming out stronger now. “It sounds cringey as fuck but I honestly couldn’t help myself. Usually basketball is what I focus on, but recently … I don’t know, you’ve changed that, and I barely fucking know you and you’ve basically got me falling at your feet—”

This time, you couldn’t help yourself.

You reached up to kiss her, your hands looping around her neck as you lost yourself in the kiss. Paige immediately reciprocated, her head turning to the side to fully immerse herself into the kiss. Her hands reached back to rest on your waist, the touch warm and welcoming on your skin.

The kiss soon turned heated, Paige’s tongue quickly gaining entry into your mouth, all the while pushing you up against your door, her hand coming up to rest beside your head. After what seemed like a lifetime of making out, her knee found its place between your legs, allowing you to grind up against her; your mini skirt basically non-existent as it rode up your thighs, making it easier for Paige to move her leg, gently applying pressure on your pussy.

You weren’t this kind of girl — you know, hooking up with someone like five minutes into meeting them — but with Paige, it was different. It was like the two of you had known each other for months with how comfortable you were.

“Fuck— Paige.” You whimpered, resting your head on her shoulder as she began to kiss down your neck, licking occasionally and varying her kisses from gentle to hard. It was like she was mapping out your body, wanting to get familiar with every inch of it. She took her time doing this, as if she was savouring every single moment, committing each act to memory to reminisce on later.

“You wanna do this, Ma?” She breathed out, kissing her way back up to your lips before pulling away, looking you in the eyes whilst speaking. Her knee wasn’t letting up between your legs, the pressure building in your stomach. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back onto the wall to maintain your posture. She placed her hand on the side of your face, her thumb playing with your bottom lip as you opened your eyes to gaze upon her face.

“I’m gonna need an answer, baby.”

A slight moan escaped your lips, and you hoped to God the other people in their dorms were either at the party or fast asleep. You nodded in response to her question, “Yeah— yes.”

Paige smiled at your answer. You knew that if you had said no, Paige would’ve accepted that without question, and immediately would have left you alone. That was the last thing you wanted, though. The tension between the both of you, was too high to simply be abandoned, and you desperately didn’t want to say goodbye to her. Selfishly, you wanted her all to yourself tonight.

Turning around, you dug your hand in Paige’s hoodie for the keys you had placed there earlier and fumbled to unlock the door. Paige, who seemingly couldn’t help herself, placed her hands dangerously low on your back, kissing the side of your neck once more as you finally opened the door.

You dragged Paige into your room, pulling her by the arm as she shut the door behind the both of you. She didn’t waste a second before pulling you into her, her mouth attacking yours once more. She reached to rid you of her hoodie, throwing it carelessly across the room.

In your haste to get ready hours before, you had left one lamp on, and the dim lighting in the room was all you needed. It added to the sexual atmosphere now pulsating around the room.

You backed up until you felt your knees hit the edge of your bed. Paige reached down to hoist you onto the bed, gently leaning over you until your back was flush against the mattress. She had one hand propped on the bed next to your head whilst the other was on your waist; simultaneously kissing you while her hand moved lower and lower, teasing you slowly.

You whined pathetically, knowing at this point the only thought in your brain was Paige. You had never crushed so hard on someone so quickly before, and the evidence of that was clear in your body. Your pussy began to throb at the mere touch Paige was giving you, and you desperately needed her to alleviate the pressure.

Paige, however, seemed to have different thoughts. Her touch was slow and teasing, wanting you to feel every single inch of her caresses as she ran her hands up and down your body.

You appreciated that she wanted to take her time with you, but you desperately needed her to do something. You decided to give her some ammunition to speed up the process. You leaned up to gently bite her lower lip, licking and kissing her mouth with an almost desperate fervour.

You leaned back to view her face, her expression full of want and lust as she watched you rid yourself of your mini skirt, throwing it across the room to join her hoodie. Paige’s hand immediately went to one of your thighs, moving her touch up and down while she chuckled slightly. “Damn, Ma. You’re a feisty one, huh?”

You leaned up again to kiss her, this time slow and steady. “I just need you.” You basically whispered, the sexual tension almost becoming unbearable for you to endure much longer.

Teasing you no more, she reached down to kiss you, hard, a satisfied smile growing on her face. Her hand found itself on your underwear, the thin g-string doing nothing to conceal how wet you were, the tight material clinging to your pussy. Paige didn’t waste a second before removing it from your body, leaning down to whisper in your ear as she flung the piece of clothing aside.

“Don’t worry, baby. I gotchu.”

She rid you of the last piece of clothing you were wearing — your top, and thank goodness you decided to forgo a bra tonight — and didn’t waste one more second before diving into you.

Her hand reached down to your pussy, her fingers mapping out every inch of your folds; your wetness making it so much easier for her to feel her way around. She purposefully danced around your clit, knowing where the small bud was but not yet touching it, all to make you moan and beg pathetically underneath her.

She didn’t leave your boobs alone, either. Her mouth wrapped around your right nipple, sucking and playfully biting it. Only when she felt that one had received enough attention did she move onto the next, giving the sensitive peak the same treatment — more so biting it to once again tease you even farther.

“Fuck… Paige, please.” You begged, and only then when your breath hitched did she turn her attention to your clit, rolling the bud between her fingers. You let out a full moan, closing your eyes and feeling her mouth on yours, her tongue gaining access, kissing you seductively and turning you on even more than you thought possible.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fucking wet.” She whispered against your lips, kissing away your loud whimper as she entered a finger into you, pumping it easily with how slick you were. You didn’t think you had ever been this wet in your whole life.

“All because of you.” You managed to get out, wanting her to know only she could make you like this, fucked out dumb on your own bed. You just wanted the feel of her all over you, and she was giving you exactly that.

She easily slipped a second finger in — probably gaining confidence because of your comment — and she skilfully began to curl her fingers whilst pumping them inside you, her other hand busy playing with your clit.

It sounded dramatic as fuck to say, but you swear you began to see stars, the dark lighting in the room doing nothing to help your vision.

“Paige! Fuck, please … kiss me.” You begged. You decided you would save your dignity for the moment and be embarrassed by how pathetic you sounded later.

Paige must’ve thought the opposite to you, however, as she quickly followed your request, kissing you while continuing with her movements, not letting up with the speed. She gazed upon your face, and thought it was kind of hard to see her because of the darkness, you knew she was gazing at you with pure admiration. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Her words were what tipped you over the edge. You let out a small gasp, you hand gripping her toned arm as Paige began to kiss down your neck, letting you cum. “Fuck,” you whined, convulsing around her fingers as your thighs began to shake.

“That’s it, Ma, just let it out.” She spoke into your ear, her fingers not easing up until she milked every last drop out of your orgasm. You knew then, for a fact, that Paige definitely enjoyed making you cum. She removed her fingers, giving you pussy a slight slap as she leaned back, licking her fingers right in front of you.

“Fuck… you taste sweet.” She smiled, rendering you speechless for what seemed like minutes. You decided you were far from done for the night. Despite having just cum, you honestly craved another orgasm. Not that there were a lot, but your past experience never had you as desperate as Paige did.

Just now realising you were the only one naked, you reached up to kiss her once more. Reaching for the bottom of her top, Paige pulled it off, your pussy throbbing with a deep desire when you saw that she was without a bra, too. “Round two already, baby?”

“You’re driving me crazy.” Was all you replied, watching as Paige stood to remove her jeans, her boxers pulling down with the movement as well. She soon hovered over you once more, returning her mouth to yours. You, however, soon decided to try and give her the pleasure she had graced you with tonight, wanting to thank her in your own way.

You gently flipped her over, her height and athletic stature made it almost impossible to manhandle her the way she did you. Paige seemed to enjoy the direction you were taking this, however, as she quickly slid her hands over your waist and ass, squeezing slightly as you bent down to kiss her sensually.

Her hand reached up to wrap around your neck lightly, moving her hand down to squeeze one of your boobs. “You’re killing me. You know that, right?”

Now it was your turn to smile, deigning not to reply as you sat back. Your thighs were straddled around her hips, your pussy just shy of touching Paige’s. Maintaining eye contact, you began to lower yourself on top of her, both of your folds merging together the best they could in the position you were in.

“Shit, baby.” Paige breathed out, your high whining and her low moans mixing together as you began to ride her, moving backwards and forwards, picking up speed eventually. You mentally thanked yourself for joining the cheerleading squad, as it allowed you to gain stamina you definitely did not have before.

Paige’s hands gripped your hips, helping your body move fluidly. If possible, it made you even wetter to see the veins flexing in her hands and arms, the many hours of bouncing a ball giving Paige unimaginable strength.

You whined, your body giving your all as you picked up speed, Paige gripping your chin to bring your head down to her level, kissing you before flipping you over. You were now on the bottom; she lifted one of your legs, your thighs now slotting between Paige’s as she began to grind her pussy against yours.

“Paige! … Mmph.” You whined. This new angle had your clits rubbing together, the mix of Paige’s wetness and your cum making it so easy for Paige to basically fuck you. She had one hand wrapped around your thigh and the other around the side of your face, still gentle as ever in her touch as she leaned down to kiss you.

“You gonna give me one more?” She breathed against your lips, not letting up in her movements. You couldn’t even give her an answer, as before you knew it another orgasm was ripped from you.

All you could do was whimper Paige’s name over and over as she began to quicken her movements, chasing her own high. It wasn’t long before her hips began to stutter, her own orgasm ripping through her body.

She began to slow in her movements, her face slotting in between your neck as you both tried to catch your breath. “That was…” You began to speak, your voice soft and damn near broken. “…wow.”

Paige’s breath hitched with a laugh, moving her body off of yours and under your sheets, lightly draping them over the both of you. “Damn right it was.”

You didn’t hesitate before curling your body into hers, wrapping your leg around one of Paige’s as you buried your head into the side of her neck. She easily slid an arm around around you, dragging you as close she possibly could.

You were silent for a few moments, realising how deep you felt in your attraction to the basketball player. You knew for a fact that you didn’t want to say goodbye to her anytime soon, knowing your fragile heart was already clinging onto her.

You spoke in a hushed tone, needing to say the words before they consumed your every thought. “Was this, uh, a one time thing?”

You felt Paige’s head turn to look at you, her hand cradling your face as she attempted to pull your face to gaze at her. You were still too nervous to look into her eye, but she wouldn’t let your comment slide without intervention. “C’mon, baby. Let me see your face.”

You let her gently move your face until it was eye level with hers, not helping herself as she placed a delicate kiss on your lips. “I ain’t letting you go, Ma. I promise. I’ve never… felt this way about anyone. I think I’m fucking falling for you.”

You smiled shyly, your heart fluttering with such warmth and joy it was hard to wipe away. Your own hand reached up to Paige’s face, moving your thumb gently across her cheek as you turned to kiss the hand that was cradling your face.

“Good,” you spoke. Confidence now creeping into your words. “Because I feel the exact same way.”

Paige smiled, the heartfelt motion warming you. She leaned in to kiss you once more. The hour was late, and yet all she could think of was spending every minute wrapped up in your body. The two of you feel asleep in that position, comfortable and safe in the other’s arms.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Your people

Tags: trueform!Sukuna x fem!reader, virgin!reader, plussized!reader, reader has a vagina, Sukuna has two dicks, softer!Sukuna, Sukuna’s a chubby chaser, exhibitionism, praise kink, not proofread, nsfw, mdni

Synopsis: Sukuna makes you his queen, and he takes you for the first time in front of all his people.

An: This is based off a hentai I saw once. I do not remember the name 😭 Also, I apologize I gave up on this fic and it quickly derailed to mindless smut.

“I don’t… I don’t think I can do it…” You stumble over your words as you look towards the glass door that leads to your expansive balcony. All of Sukuna’s… and your subjects will be able to be seen from the balcony. You’ll be on full display.

Sukuna cocks an eyebrow at you as he witnesses you getting cold feet. It was to be expected. You’re fully human with morals and a conscience intact. Curses rarely ever had those two things. Besides, you weren’t use to the customs of the court.

“You don’t wish to be claimed by me in front of my people?” He asks, leaning against the door to block your vision of the outside. It was tradition for the king to take his wife in front of all of his subjects to mark her as his territory. While Sukuna didn't abide by most traditions, he was quite fond of this one.

This also held double meaning for curses. A virgin queen being taken by their king in front of them was said to bring prosperity and power amongst all of them. The sight of innocence being tainted by the true apex of evil was empowering for all to witness.

“It’s.. I..” Your words keep failing you. Sukuna, giving you a fair shot, had warned you about this custom. He had been courting you for a while now, but he always declined taking things any further than dry humping. When you flat out begged for him, he finally told you his reasoning for keeping your virginity intact.

It’s just a one time deal. It’s basically consummating your marriage to him… in front of 500 curses… No big deal, right?

"I want to keep my dress on." You compromise. Maybe the experience would be less humiliating if you weren't fully naked and vulnerable.

Sukuna's eyes wander your form twice over as if he's carefully calculating if he could sacrifice the pleasure of seeing your tits bounce with each thrust.

"You wish for me to hike your skirt up and pull your panties down like you're some quick fuck?" He tsks, rolling his eyes. "You are my wife. I'm going to take great pride in undressing you."

"For 500 curses to see,” you mutter as you avoided his gaze.

"They're going to see me naked as well." Sukuna shrugs like it's just another day for him.

“It’s different for you. I don’t know if you have the ability to feel shame,” you retort.

“You feel shameful about your body?” He asks as he cocks an eyebrow up. “No.. no, that just won’t do. My queen will not be shameful. Come here.”

You swallow thickly before slowly rising up from where you were sitting. Your feet barely pick up off the floor as you scoot yourself closer to him.

Sukuna clicks his tongue with disapproval before he wraps a firm but gentle hand around your arm. “Trust your husband and your king on this,” he whispers into your ear before he walks you out onto the balcony.

Your heart beat pulses wildly as you look out to the crowd of curses that gathered around the estate to watch you and Sukuna solidify your marriage.

Claps erupt from the crowd. Those who are able to cheer begin to do so.

Sukuna’s hands rub up and down your arms encouragingly. “They’re here to watch you, my flower.”

He then slices his hand through the air, and the crowd goes silent. “Kneel before your new queen.” His voice demands lowly.

The swarm of curses immediately bow their heads down, touching their foreheads to the dirt beneath their feet. Not one dared to defy Sukuna.

Nerves swarm your stomach. You can’t believe that you’re actually about to go through with this. Why did you have to fall in love with the king of curses?

Sukuna stands behind you, and his lower set of hands are placed on your hips while his upper set is still rubbing your shoulders and arms. He tilts his head down towards the crook of your neck.

“Let yourself feel me, flower.” His voice rumbles in your ear before his lips gently drag against the crook of your neck, causing you to shiver. He then presses slow open-mouthed kisses along your neck towards your collarbone to your shoulder.

You slowly allow your eyes to flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. No one dared to utter a word while Sukuna held his court’s attention. The only soft sounds to be heard were the sounds of his lips pressing against your skin.

His upper set of hands slowly untied the corset to your dress, and he used his thumbs on his lower set of hands to massage your hips and back. “Doing so good for me, petal. Do you want more?”

You sheepishly nod in response with a small hum of approval. You do want more, even if there was a crowd of curses before you.

“Mmm, that’s my queen,” he hums against your skin, nipping at your neck as his hands work faster to get the dress off you. To say he’s excited would be an understatement. It’s taken every bit of self control in Sukuna to not plow you into oblivion every time your sweet lips meet his.

The white fabric rustles as it falls to the ground. Per Sukuna’s request, you’re completely bare underneath. You bite your lip, leaning your head back towards his shoulder as you feel the shame seeping in.

“They do not see you, petal. Their eyes are on the ground,” he reassures you lowly. “This is for me right now. Do you understand?”

Your body shifts slightly, still feeling shy about your current predicament.

“Face me.” He steps back away from you, letting his hands fall to his sides as he expects for you to turn towards him, which you do… slowly.

Sukuna grunts lowly. The sight of your full breasts and plump hips greet him. Your plush tummy that acts as protection for your sacred womb makes his dicks harden in response. His eyes trail over the stretch marks that spread along your thighs and stomach. He feels his breath grow shallow. How do you not see the way your body appeals to him?

“The moon and the stars quake in the presence of your beauty. You are most precious to me, petal. You do not need to worry about anyone’s opinion on you other than your own. If anyone has anything to say, they can bring their concerns to me, and they’ll be dealt with swiftly.”

You feel tears sting in the back of your eyes. Despite marrying the incarnate of evil, Sukuna has been kinder to you than any human on this planet, even if he is rough around the edges.

“I love you, ‘kuna. I’m sorry to burden you with my own self conscious behaviors.”

“Why are you apologizing to me? You haven’t wronged me. Don’t apologize.” His hands reach up and gently cup your cheeks. “Let me have you wholly. I’ve been very patient, and now, I wish to claim my queen.”

Your hands find his chest as you slide your palms down his silk robes. The robes do absolutely nothing to hide the two monstrous cocks beneath them. You glance down and bite your lip gently from the sight. How you’re going to fit both of them inside you…? You’re unsure.

“I’m ready,” you softly respond with a small nod.

“Ready for what? Be specific.”

“I’m ready for you to take me, ‘kuna. I want you to claim me in front of your people and let them know that I’m entirely yours and no one else’s.”

One of his lower hands roughly swats against your round ass, causing you to jump forward slightly and gasp. The fat on your ass ripples from the harsh blow. One of his other hands reaches up and grabs your chin roughly, tilting your face to look up at him. “Good girl.”

His lips enraptures yours, and one of his lower hands slips between your thighs. When his fingers are met with slick, he groans into your mouth.

Your hands roam his chest through his robes as he slowly begins to rub his thick fingers against your slick folds. At this point, it's just you two. Your mind hasn't even thought about how your body looks or if the curses are gazing up at you.

Wanting to have skin-to-skin contact, you work to slip his robe off of his wide shoulders, exposing his scarred body for the world to see. Your fingertips gently dance across each and every discolored marking on his skin.

"You're testing my patience, petal." His voice is nearly a growl in warning, and he swiftly plunges two fingers into your tight wet entrance. The wet sound almost came across as a 'pop' while your cunt worked to accommodate his fingers.

"O-oh! shit..." you pant, burying your face into Sukuna's collarbone.

"I know, petal, I know. I have to prep you." The obscene sounds of his fingers slowly pumping in and out of your wet channel filled the air. "Fuck. You're doing so good for me."

"S'kuna..." you whine, grabbing onto his arms for stability. Your knees nearly buckle as he stuffs in a third finger.

"'s gonna be a tight stretch, petal. You can take it though. You're gonna take whatever I give you, isn't that right?"

Your eyes are damn near rolling into the back of your head from how good his fingers feel. You finally get to soothe the dull empty ache that's been impossible to ignore since you and Sukuna became serious.

"Oh my god," spills from your lips as soon as he curls his fingers, pressing against that one spot that causes flurries to dance across your vision.

"I am your god, and you're going to worship me with that pretty little cunt of yours." He suddenly withdrew his fingers, drawing a whine out from your lips.

"I was close..." you whimpered as he spun you back around to face the curses who were still kneeling before you two. His hand shoved you against the railing, guiding your hips to arch back towards him.

"Don't worry, petal. You'll be close again before you know it." His hand wraps around one of his cocks, carefully fisting it as he looked at how pretty you were on display for him.

"Rise, and witness your king claim his queen," Sukuna ordered his people. His tip slowly nudges between your folds, gathering your slick onto his head.

You're too needy to even pay any mind to the curses. Your eyes were half-lidded, clouding your vision. You instinctively pushed your hips out more for your husband.

"Look at you," he lowly purred as he leaned over your back, pressing kisses against your ear and neck. His cockhead slowly nudged its way between your silken walls. His lower hands gripped your hips tightly. "Fuck... biiig stretch, petal."

"O-oh! Oh fuck-!" Your hands gripped the metal railing tightly. The intrusion was way more intense than you could've imagined. Involuntarily, tears sprung into your eyes.

"Such a fucking good girl~ Shit. You've been holding out on me, huh? Fuckin' cunt is tighter than I expected."

You choke out a gasp as he has to forcibly shove his hips forward to even make any progress. Your snug grip nearly has him locked in place while your soaking wet cunt tries to swallow him in.

"Su-kuna.." you whine between hiccups.

The curses are all watching in awe as Sukuna stretches you out with only one of his cocks. The other is smushed between your pillowy thighs, glazing them in a sheen of pre-cum. It feels like the crowd holds their breath until they spot it.

The light dribble that runs down one thigh... the subtle red ring around one of Sukuna's cocks. You feel a soft 'pop' inside you as Sukuna pushes past the tight ring of muscle.

"Ohh, there it is. You're all mine now, flower." He continues to slide in until he's fully sheathed. It nearly feels like he's trying to bully his way straight to your womb as his tip rubs against your cervix.

Your entire body is tingling, and you feel your legs already begin to tremble. This is what you get for marrying a monster.

It feels like his natural musk floods your nose, and you feel him everywhere possible.

Sukuna grunts as he tries to pump his hips. Key word: tries. It feels like his cock is being sealed by your warm gummy walls. "Ngh... you like that so much you don't wanna let me go, huh?" he taunts as he has to begin jerking his hips back and forth to get any sort of friction.

His lower cock is so heavy between your thighs. His thick shaft rubs against you, spreading your clear fluids everywhere. The sounds of sticky wet plaps are impossible to ignore.

"So good-! Fuck, you're so d-deep!" you pitifully cry while one of his upper hands grabs a handful over your hair, jerking your head up to look at your people.

Instead of the disgusted glares you expected to see, you're only met with gazes of wonder and amazement. They're truly enamored by you and your body, watching the most natural yet primitive action in the world.

"I can't believe I waited this long to feel you wrapped around me, flower. You feel like fucking heaven," he growls into your ear as his hips finally settle on a punishing pace. Your body is nearly knocked forward over the ledge with each brutal thrust.

Your cunt flutters around him as you feel a knot settle into your stomach. "I... Oh god, I'm gonna- I'm close, S'kuna..."

"I told you so." he grunts as his cock continues to bully its way against your cervix. He's leaking copious amounts of hot pre-cum inside you, lubricating you adequately so he can slide in and out. "Let go, petal. Soak my cock."

Your eyes squeeze shut as you hold your breath. Sukuna's red ochre eyes watch as your face twists in pleasure. "Breathe," he demands.

As soon as you push out a breath, you feel your orgasm break. Your cunt spasms uncontrollably around his girthy shaft as you babble about how good his dick feels inside you.

"God-fucking-dammit," he manages to strangle out. His thrusts grow rougher as his pelvic bone slaps against your ass rapidly, chasing after his own orgasm. "You ready, petal? Here it comes..."

He hunches over your back before his teeth dig into the flesh of your shoulder. You writhe in his tight grip as his cock floods you with his seed. You lean your head back against his shoulder as you're reduced to a mewling mess.

The curses surrounding the estate begin to cheer and clap loudly. Most of these curses have been alive for several hundred years, but they hadn't seen a claiming ritual yet. It was a joyous occasion for them.

Sukuna slowly relaxes his grip as his hips slowly rock against you, fucking you through your orgasm as well as his own.

"That was a lot," you murmur in a slurred tone, thoroughly fucked-out after your first time.

"You want some praise now?" Sukuna's gravely voice rumbles from behind you. He's gently coating your skin in sweet, soft kisses. "You've only done half the work, you know..."

You're about to bite back some remark, thinking he was referring to how he was the one doing most of the moving. However, your words die in your throat as he slowly drags his cock out from the warmth of your entrance.

He then reaches down, and he guides his second cock inside, plugging you up once again. One of his other hand then cups your breast, lightly pinching your nipple as he chuckles from the sounds of your whining.

"W-wait! I'm already sore.." you whine as you try to scramble away from his second monstrous cock. His tip was dark red, and you could feel him throbbing inside you already from neglect.

Your cunt was already accepting him in even if your words were misleading. Your body craved him, all of him.

"Don't be lazy, petal. I'm no where near done with you yet."

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby

[sakuraszn]

﹒♡ CONFESSION ft. katsuki bakugo

cw: lots of fluff, flustered bakugo. he’s such a cutie

The ramen shop was packed, the air filled with laughter, chatter, and the rich aroma of broth and grilled meat. The entire Class 1-A had squeezed into the cozy little restaurant to celebrate Todoroki’s recent jump in the hero rankings.

Bowls clinked, chopsticks clashed, and the energy was electric as the group indulged in warm food and lively conversation.

And at the center of it all—Katsuki Bakugo sat stiffly, arms crossed, scowling into his half-finished bowl of ramen like it had personally offended him.

Not because he wasn’t happy for Todoroki.

Not because the food was bad.

But because of you.

You, sitting just a few seats down, laughing at something uraraka had said, your eyes crinkling, shoulders shaking.

And it was driving him insane.

For weeks—no, months—Bakugo had been dealing with this… feeling. This stupid, irritating, suffocating feeling every time you were near him. It was different from the rivalry-fueled adrenaline he felt in battle, different from the pride he carried when he improved as a hero.

It was something he didn’t understand, something he couldn’t control.

And he hated that.

But tonight… tonight was the night he was going to do something about it.

Or at least, that’s what Kirishima and Sero had forced into his thick skull before they even walked into the restaurant.

“Dude, you’ve been acting weird around them for weeks.”

“Just tell them! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh, I don’t know, idiots, maybe they laugh in my face and never talk to me again?!”

“Oh please, she would never—”

“Shut up. I’ll do it when I damn well feel like it.”

But now that he was here, surrounded by people, nerves bubbling in his gut like an active volcano, feeling like it was a lot harder than he expected.

“Bakugo,” Kirishima’s voice cut through his thoughts, low enough that only he could hear. “You good, bro?”

“I’m fine,” Bakugo growled, barely glancing up as he stabbed at his noodles with his chopsticks.

Kirishima raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? ‘Cause you haven’t insulted Kaminari in like ten minutes. I’m starting to get worried.”

Sero snickered. “Pretty sure that’s a new record.”

“Shut the hell up.”

Kirishima and Sero exchanged glances before the redhead leaned in again. “Are you actually gonna do it?”

Bakugo exhaled sharply, gripping his chopsticks so tight they nearly snapped.

“After this.” His voice was firm. Final.

Kirishima grinned, nudging Sero. “Told ya he’d do it.”

“Hey, I had faith,” Sero said, shrugging. “Just not a lot of faith.”

Bakugo shot them both a murderous glare, but before he could verbally rip them apart, Iida clapped his hands together, signaling for attention.

“If I may have everyone’s focus for a moment!” Iida said, standing up. “I’d like to propose a final toast to Todoroki!”

Todoroki, who had been quietly enjoying his meal, blinked as everyone raised their glasses. “Oh,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Thank you.”

“To Todoroki climbing the ranks!” Iida declared.

“To Todoroki!” the class cheered, clinking their glasses together.

You turned, smiling at the dual-haired hero. “You really deserve it, Todoroki. We all knew you’d make it far.”

Todoroki’s lips curled into a small smile. “I appreciate that, Y/N.”

Bakugo scowled.

It wasn’t Todoroki’s fault, but hearing you say his name like that, so softly, so encouragingly—yeah, it bothered him.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

As the night wound down, people started finishing up their food, settling their bills, and stretching lazily before making their way out.

“Damn, that was good,” Kaminari sighed, rubbing his stomach. “I think I ate too much.”

Mina laughed. “You definitely ate too much.”

One by one, people began saying their goodbyes, heading off in different directions toward the dorms or home.

And that’s when Bakugo knew—this was his moment.

You were slipping on your jacket, adjusting your scarf when he finally forced himself to move.

Kirishima shot him a thumbs-up from across the room, and Sero winked.

Bakugo rolled his eyes before stomping over to you, heart hammering wildly in his chest.

“Oi.”

You looked up at him, blinking. “Oh, hey, Bakugo! What’s up?”

He inhaled sharply through his nose. Okay. Just say it. Say it, dumbass.

But the words wouldn’t come out.

Instead, he found himself standing there like an idiot, fists clenched at his sides, staring at you.

You tilted your head, confused. “Uh… you okay?”

His jaw tensed. This was already going horribly.

And then—because frustration was the only thing that ever helped him push past his nerves—he blurted out:

“Are you really so oblivious?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair before pointing at you aggressively. “You! You’re oblivious! Have you seriously not noticed?!”

Your confusion deepened. “Noticed what?”

He exhaled sharply, cheeks burning. His whole body felt like it was about to explode.

He had two options: Keep making a fool of himself or just say it and get it over with.

He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaled, and then—

“I like you, dumbass!”

Silence.

Bakugo cracked one eye open, stomach twisting into knots.

You were staring at him.

Not laughing. Not recoiling. Just… staring.

Then—

“You… like me?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s what I just said, idiot.”

A slow smile crept onto your lips. “You like me?”

His face turned an even darker shade of red. “Yes! Stop making me say it, damn it!”

You let out a laugh—light, airy, and filled with something he couldn’t quite place. “Wow,” you said, grinning. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t easy.” His voice was gruff, but his hands were twitching at his sides, resisting the urge to do something—anything—with them.

You stepped closer, peering up at him. “You know… I like you too.”

Bakugo’s brain short-circuited.

“…What?”

You laughed again, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I like you, Bakugo. Have for a while now.”

His heart stopped.

Then jump-started at triple speed.

“What?”

You shrugged, smirking. “What? Are you oblivious?”

His eye twitched. “You—you little—”

You poked his cheek and laughed. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed kat’ I’m just messin with ya.”

He exploded.

Not literally. But his entire soul combusted.

“Shut the hell up!” he barked, face practically glowing red.

But you just laughed again, softer this time. Fond. “So… now what?”

He swallowed, heart still racing. “Now… now you let me walk you home, dumbass.”

You beamed. “That sounds nice.”

And as you started walking together, Bakugo felt something strange settle in his chest.

Warm. Light.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

SAKURASZN © 2025 !

[f1ora1f1owerswrites]

the way he loves you

Summary: The Dagger Squad starts to notice the subtle ways Jake Seresin shows his love for you, from quiet moments at home to stolen glances at the Hard Deck. As each of them pieces it together, they realize Jake isn’t just Hangman—he’s yours.

Warnings: use of Y/N, she/her, fluff.

Word count: 1121 (oops i got a bit carried away)

A/N: someone reposted my last “curious gazes” and requested one with all the daggers, and i’ve been thinking about it ever since. i finally got time to write it so i hope you enjoy, i’ve been loving these!!

***

Jake “Hangman” Seresin had a reputation for being bold and larger than life. To most, nothing more than a cocky, overconfident pilot, the kind of guy who never seemed to take life too seriously. But when the Daggers met you, they began to see a side of Jake they’d never expected—a side that made them realize there was far more to him than they ever realized.

And it happened in little moments, each one chipping away at the image of Hangman and revealing Jake.

***

Phoenix

Natasha had always been sharp. She could read people easily, and Jake was no exception. She’d noticed the changes in him before anyone else: how he wasn’t as quick to boast, how he lingered on his phone more often, smiling at something no one else could see.

Still, it wasn’t until that night at the Hard Deck that she put the pieces together.

Jake walked in with you by his side, and Natasha immediately noticed the way he looked at you. It wasn’t the casual charm he used on everyone else—it was softer, almost reverent.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Jake said, his voice filled with a kind of pride that made Natasha blink in surprise.

You smiled and waved, introducing yourself as Jake’s girlfriend, though you didn’t need to. Natasha had already figured it out.

She watched as Jake stayed close to you all night, not in his usual attention-seeking way, but quietly, as if he couldn’t bear to let you out of his sight. When you laughed, he leaned in just a little closer. When you spoke, he listened like your words were the most important thing in the world.

Later, as Jake brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek and a soft smile, Natasha smirked and leaned over to Bob. “He’s gone.”

Bob

Bob Floyd noticed it in the details, in the quiet moments that others might overlook.

When Jake and you invited the squad over for dinner, Bob didn’t know what to expect. He’d never pictured Jake as the hosting type, but as he stepped into your cozy home, he could tell this was different.

“Make yourself at home,” you said warmly, handing Bob a glass of sweet tea.

Jake was in the kitchen, wearing an apron—an apron, of all things—as he stirred something on the stove. Bob couldn’t hide his surprise.

“You’re domesticated, Seresin,” Rooster teased, leaning against the counter.

Jake smirked without looking up. “Happy wife, happy life,” he said easily, earning a laugh from you.

“Not your wife yet,” you teased.

“Yet,” Jake said, glancing at you with a grin and tossing you a wink that made Bob’s chest ache with secondhand fondness.

Bob noticed the way you moved around each other, wordlessly passing utensils and dishes, finishing each other’s sentences. There was a quiet rhythm to it, a kind of unspoken understanding that came from deep love and trust.

When dessert came out, Jake set the plate in front of you first, brushing a kiss to your temple. Bob caught the way you smiled, the way Jake’s hand lingered on yours for just a moment longer than necessary.

Bob glanced at Phoenix, who raised her eyebrows knowingly. “That’s love,” she whispered, and Bob couldn’t agree more.

Rooster

Bradley Bradshaw noticed it during a pool game at the Hard Deck.

Jake had always been competitive, but tonight, he wasn’t playing to win against the squad—he was playing to impress you.

Every shot he made, he’d glance over at you, his grin widening when you clapped or cheered. But it wasn’t just the showmanship that caught Bradley’s attention. It was the way Jake handed you the pool cue, guiding you through your shots with a patience Bradley hadn’t thought him capable of.

“Am I doing this right?” you asked, laughing as you tried to line up your shot.

“You’re perfect,” Jake said softly, his voice so low that only you and Bradley heard.

Bradley rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at his lips. “You’re whipped, Seresin.”

“And happy about it,” Jake shot back, winking.

Bradley couldn’t argue with that.

Payback & Fanboy

Fanboy and Payback noticed it on the beach.

It was a rare day off, and the squad had decided to hit the sand for some football and relaxation. You’d tagged along, sitting under an umbrella with a book in hand while the others played.

Jake kept sneaking glances at you between plays, his grin growing every time you looked up and smiled.

When the game ended, Jake jogged over to you, dropping to his knees in the sand beside your chair. “Having fun?” he asked, brushing sand off his hands.

You smiled, closing your book. “Always, when I’m with you.”

Mickey nudged Reuben, jerking his chin toward the two of you. “Look at him. That’s not the Hangman we know.”

“Nope,” Reuben said with a grin. “That’s Jake. Big difference.”

Coyote

Javy had known from the beginning.

He’d been there when Jake first mentioned you, his voice tinged with something Javy hadn’t heard before: vulnerability. He’d watched as Jake navigated the early days of your relationship, unsure of himself in a way that was both endearing and rare.

At a barbecue one weekend, Javy pulled Jake aside, nodding toward you as you chatted with Phoenix and Bob.

“She’s good for you, man,” Javy said.

Jake nodded, his gaze fixed on you. “Yeah. She is.”

“You ever gonna tell her how whipped you are?” Javy teased.

Jake smirked. “She already knows, no need to say it.”

The Moment They All Realized

The squad’s collective realization came during another gathering at your house.

It was late, and the group was sprawled across the living room, laughing and swapping stories. You were in the kitchen, tidying up, when Jake disappeared without a word.

A few minutes later, he returned with a dish towel over his shoulder, carefully carrying a handful of freshly washed glasses.

“Need a hand, sweetheart?” he asked, walking straight to you.

The room went silent as the squad watched him press a kiss to your temple before helping you dry the dishes.

Phoenix broke the silence first. “Holy shit. He’s a househusband.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Jake looked over his shoulder with a smirk. “Jealous?”

“Absolutely,” Natasha said, grinning.

As the laughter died down, Javy raised his beer. “To Y/N,” he said.

You looked up, surprised. “To me?”

Javy nodded. “Yeah. You turned Hangman into Jake. And we love you for it.”

The squad cheered, and as Jake’s hand found yours, you squeezed it, your heart full.

Because while Jake might not have always been the loudest about his love, the people who mattered most could see it clear as day.

[narcjsistx]

— 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀, 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐀 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐕? ; micheal kaiser

i honestly don't know, it's all quite random!! it could be a spinoff of this one but with the little girl's name i used for this. i felt creative, but it disgusts me this shit </3

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

"mama"

"what, baby?"

"is that dada on TV?"

You look up from your magazine, looking towards the flat screen television: the image of your husband, while he is flanked by his faithful teammate Ness, is shown while the program commentator gives a brief introduction of the match just played, but Anneliese is still too young to understand what the man is saying. A small smile appears on your lips as you look at your daughter, so enchanted to see his father on TV

"It's dada. That's why he can't stay with us for these days, he's near Munich" you say stroking her blonde hair, yet another trait she picked up from Kaiser "Do you remember that town we visited a few months ago? He's there" you say, and Anneliese nods "Ness Ness is here too!" the little girl says, as an image of Alexis is projected onto the screen. You nod, amused "Yes, he's with dad. They're playing an important match"

Anneliese knows what her father does for a living, more or less. She knows that he travels often and kicks a ball, and unexpectedly he also gets paid quite handsomely. She remember your work better, but maybe it's just a matter of habit

But actually, it is the first time she has seen Kaiser on television, or rather, the first time dhe has seen him and can remember him; it already happened when she was younger, but she was only a few months old, it's impossible for her to remember it

Kaiser has been out of town for a few days but he should return tomorrow morning, and the television is only broadcasting the replay of the game he played this morning, but which Anneliese didn't see, perhaps that's why she's so surprised. The commentator speaks quickly while the passes between the feet of Micheal and Alexis become faster, and closer and closer towards the net. The crowd cheers for the Bastard Munchen prodigy, while the ball, with a powerful Kaiser Impact, ends up in the net with a sharp hit

Anneliese jumps from the couch, coming to the front of the television as the screen shows Kaiser bowing to the crowd, proudly showing off his tattoo and smirking, the one you've known for practically your whole life. Your little girl's smile, the one you've loved since her first breath 5 years ago, makes you smile almost spontaneously as you hear her clap her hands "Dada, dada scored!"

The shot now shows a reporter inches from your husband, sweaty but tremendously handsome: Micheal runs a hand through his blond hair, while the man clears his throat "Spectacular match today! Excellent result for Bastard Munchen, but no one expected less from the team's number 10"

"Yeah? You have to keep expectations high, whether they're from your fans or your family. But I think everyone knows what my preference is"

"No doubt, after all you often dedicate goals to your daughter or wife. Thoughts on them?"

"What else is there to say, other than that I love them? Every goal is for them, only them"

You smile, placing the magazine now located in your lap. Anneliese opens her mouth in shock, running around the couch "He dedicates it to us, he dedicates it to us! Dada is fantastic, isn't he?"

"He is. He really is"

They are sincere words, because you could never want anything else other than this: your perfection, your husband, your daughter

[cinnamongrl2006]

♱ Knight!Simon Riley x Princess!reader ♱ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

a/n: I love knight x princess stories, maybe because I want a strong capable man to take care of me, oh well, who knows. Also, I can't write accents phonetically for the life of me, so take what I give you plspls!!

warnings: fem reader, pure fluff, sfw

────୨ৎ────

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who fell in love with you the second he stepped foot in the castle. He was assigned to watch and take care of you, the princess, before a worthy suitor whisked you away to another land, where you were to rule as queen.

That was the plan your family, your kingdom had set out for you, that was the future that awaited you. That was the future you wanted, or so you thought until you met him, your knight. The townspeople and the people of the court called him Ghost, they worshipped him almost as if he was a legend, they feared him.

He was tall, big all over. He'd expected you to be somewhat reluctant at his sudden proximity, scared of him, repulsed at his appearance— at his grotesque appearance, he thought, big gloved hands gripping the sword in his belt, face covered by his dark helmet. He expected you to treat him like all royals treated the service, like a lap dog, like an appendage, a simple accessory.

But you didn't. You looked at him like he hung the moon and stars, spoke to him as an equal, regarded him with wide eyes. You sat by the training yard when he'd practice swordfighting, a hand over your eyes to shield yourself from the sun, and you'd clap and cheer him on.

A week later he told you his real name, Simon. "But you can call me Si, love." He said it softly, walking you to the drawing room with a hand on the small of your back. His fingers tightened against the fabric of your dress when you repeated his name softly, to remember it better you'd said.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who started to get closer to you, to trust you, quicker than he usually did. He thought maybe it was because of the way you smiled at him when you caught him staring, or the way you laughed at his totally unfunny jokes like they were comedy gold.

At night, after he walked you to your quarters he'd go and stand under your window, because you always wanted to keep talking to him past your bedtime. You thought it was a shame it was dark outside when he had his helmet off, his voice was so deep, and his hands so big, his touch so warm— he had to be handsome.

He'd read to you, perched against a tree trunk, looking up at the balcony where he could make out the outline of your frame. He'd stay there with you until you started to yawn, and the sky turned orange, right before the birds sang. And then he'd walk back to his quarters and get as much sleep as he could before he had to be at your door again, picking you up after you got dressed, steering you to the dining room with a hand on the small of your back.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who, after weeks of dismissing your pleas, takes off his helmet in front of you. He doesn't like taking it off when he's at work, doesn't like being Simon when he's in the suit and armor, but for you he's already made an exception. He's surprised when you pull him down for a kiss behind a tree. You're taking a walk on the far side of the gardens, where the trees are tall and the foliage thick, and the sun doesn't get in your eyes.

After that day it became a common occurrence; you'd pull on his arm and steer him outside of the throne room. Tell your mother you were going for a walk, you'd be back before dinner, and you'd spend the entire afternoon tangled together under a weeping willow.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who told you he loved you one of those afternoons. Your head rested on his chest— armor discarded a while ago, his undershirt billowed in the wind— listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart and the rumbling anytime he spoke.

You had been telling him about a painting class you'd taken that day, his hums and caresses lulling you to sleep. It was the perfect occasion for him to say it, he couldn't hold it in any longer but he feared scaring you away if he said it out loud, the reality of your situation weighed heavy in his heart.

So he leaned his head down and kissed the top of your head, and with his lips pressed against your hair he said it.

"Love you s' much, sweetheart."

For a second he thought you really were asleep, and his words, his adoration for you, would stay a secret that only the trees that grew among you would know. But he felt you stir in his embrace, felt your hands snake around his neck, your lips find his jaw.

"Love you too, Simon."

────୨ৎ────

@cupidsworstcrime convinced me to write this 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Requests are open!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #03. CORPSE BRIDE

𐙚 topic。．when you turn down yandere hsr men’s proposals.

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。general yandere themes, suggestive content, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and boothill. sunday and aven are regular additions to my posts lol, wrote boothills less intense bc he’s too silly to imagine

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ ‘convinces’ you

。he will actually try to coax you into it. he doesn’t want to just force things onto you, that isn’t really what he wants 。“ill make you the happiest pretty bride, doll, just believe in me, hm?” 。continues to sweet talk you, telling you what he can do- buy you pretty dresses, give you anything you want, and he lists luxury after luxury. 。and he follows through his promises. even if you are being really disobedient, he’d still buy you more luxury than you could ever ask for. you will start questioning if you really don’t want this marriage- which is exactly what he wants you to do, to make you doubt yourself. 。his list goes on and on- a vip ticket to the Reverie, first row tickets to robin’s concerts, only the finest things that only his class of people could ever get their hands on. 。but in that list, he conveniently puts out ‘freedom.’ 。if you disagree, he’d pout, asking you why- and when you tell him you want to be free from him, he’d laugh, calling you a silly girl. 。“i already gave you a choice when we met. it was your choice to pick a card from an unknown pile.” 。he’d have the wedding commence in some really luxurious property of the ipc, and he will, invite your family over- he’s merciful. but is it mercy when you know you won’t see them ever again? 。“it would be a shame if they don’t see the happiest moment of your life.”

STANDING there with the most beautiful dress you could humanly ask for, your expression is nothing but a shell as Aventurine smiles at you through those shades. Your eyes are everywhere but on his eyes, when you stare at them, you feel like you’re losing yourself.

you are glad your gown came with a veil over your head, nobody can see your dead eyes, except him.

As the officiant goes on with the questions, you grip your bouquet a little harder to the point you feel their stems crumple, just like your shriveling heart.

You snap out of it after hearing silence- you see his expecting eyes on you and you nod blankly. “I do.”

And your husband smiles even wider, and he steps closer and slowly, while staring at you with uncomfortable adoration through those tantalizing purple eyes, he kisses you. You are expecting a tender kiss in a ceremony; but his gloved hand sneaks onto the back of your head, pulling you in hastily.

“I love you so fucking much, princess—” he breathes into you, brushing aside the saliva that trickles down your chin after his intrusion. “It took quite a while, but you’re finally all mine.” He pulls up your hand that has your forced vow on it, he chuckles and softly kisses your fingers.

“‘m gonna make you so happy, so ecstatic, that you’re gonna thank me for it, love. you will thank me that I restrained you from everything else.” he whispers, and the people clap, cheering; your family too, who smiles, knowing nothing that it would be your last reunion.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ breaks you

。he just takes it on another level (and does not find your struggles entertaining unlike the former) 。he will be, really heartbroken at first. the head of the oak family asking you to be his lifelong sweetheart is almost like him giving you his life. you are his entire world- and the world has rejected him. 。“…I see. was I not good enough for you, angel?” 。although his emotions will be very hard to control, he’s very used to commencing plans. he’d tell you that he could ‘talk this out’ with you. unfortunately, it’s not a choice, but rather, an order. 。sunday is a ‘the end justifies the means’ kind of person. he will do any means to make you eventually accept your fate. that will include imprisoning you in some faraway place and leaving you abandoned for so long, you will be broken, wishing for any interaction. food is only given to you through a remote device, with no human interaction. 。sunday itches to be with you- he is compassionate for you, his heart will ache to see you sob into an endless cacophony. a part of him will be tempted to go to you and be with you physically, not watching you from a screen. 。he will repeat it- he will visit once a blue moon, comforting you, asking you if you changed your mind. when you ask him when he’d release you, his expression will harden. 。“it seems you haven’t learned anything, sweetheart.” 。if you are still stubborn, he will be a little impatient. he will speed up the process by adding new things in- maybe making you dream of a lovely, free life and when you wake up, you’re just alone. he will not resort to anything violent, he cares too much about you to hurt you. although, ‘hurt’ in his dictionary doesn’t apply to mentally hurting you. 。you will sob and show your most dramatic, fragile sides to a descent of madness, thinking you are truly alone until sunday comes to visit. you are wrong, though- sunday has always been with you, just not physically. 。he has always been watching you cry into the void through a screen. always.

MAYBE you have finally lost your mind, because when Sunday comes to visit you and your dull prison, you collapse to your knees and immediately plead him.

“Please,” you sob, clutching his legs desperately- he doesn’t crouch, but looks down- almost like a god addressing its follower. Sunday is no god for you, but you beg like he is.

“Please what?” He looks at you, fingers brushing over your hands, tilting his head just the slightest. His golden eyes glitter in the dim light. He is waiting for only one answer, there is only one correct answer to his question.

But you do not give him the right one. “Please just let me go,” you break down. Your heart is throbbing from all the crying, vision blurry and your head is light with no energy to talk anymore.

His gentle, serene smile immediately warps into that of a cold one. “Try again?” His fingers grip your hands hard, warning you that his patience is running thin.

When you remain silent except for your sobs, he crouches down to stare at you on eye-level, boring holes into your fearful expression. Unlike his deadly gaze, his words are soft and flow out quickly like a river- albeit with a sigh of exasperation. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to stop this just because you beg.” His hand pushes yours against the floor to knock you down, figure towering over you as he leans in to whisper- “—although, they’re very pleasant to listen to.”

“Honestly, I don’t get why you are struggling right now. It’s so easier to accept your eventual fate. Unless, you do like to seek pain.”

His other hand goes over your stomach, then slides tantalizingly slow up your body- you shiver and tremble at each touch that is too foreign to you. Cold fingers cage your neck and you choke on your breath.

“I’m not planning on hurting you, angel.” His voice is still gentle, but his eyes are telling another story, they seem keen to hurt you again and again. “But I did say I’ll resort to other… methods. Since none of them seem to work, I suppose the only solution would be caging you with a baby.” When your eyes widen, he laughs dryly. “The look on your face tells me that you didn’t expect it. But you will be my loving wife, dear. You will not be able to run or reject me, not when your own child is at stake. It makes only more sense to… make you bear children. My children.”

As he watches you struggle under him, trying to breathe, he feels like he has entered ascension. Soon, one of your pretty fingers will have his ring, and very very soon, he will have his first child- the very thought of him makes him lose his mind. He so wishes to make you his, claim you inside, watch your pretty pussy gush out his cum while he’s pressing deep into your womb- but he also wishes to see a mini version of him, or you. He finds it too adorable to withstand. He will vow that his children will grow up pure and innocent.

“We will be the happiest family in the world,” he purrs. “And I’ll make sure of it.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིOOTHILL ⇢ will try to prove himself

。maybe a little similar to aven. but while the latter will materialistically give you things and spoil you around to convince you, boothill will more likely show himself off instead. 。“i can fudgin’ shoot an ipc lackey in the head from miles away, sugar- ya can’t see that ‘n any other guy.” 。he’ll try to show you his capability to protect you- which will likely end up in multiple people dying but as a galaxy ranger, he has morals, so he will probably use the ipc as his shooting dummies 。overall he’s sweet even if you reject his proposal- he will likely be furious, just not at you. 。oh lord but during the day you rejected him, be prepared for multiple news flashes of dead people across the street. the amount of emotion will be too much for his consciousness to restrain 。when you confront him, he’d apologize, albeit a little too nonchalant. 。“‘m sorry sweetie, got a lil outta hand last night.” 。per your wish, he won’t kill anyone who’s unrelated and innocent- but he’d still go on a killing spree in the ipc headquarters to the point you are blacklisted on their list because he would shout your name and rant why you didn’t accept him while he shoots his gun all around the place.

“BOOTHILL, what the hell are you doing?” You frown when he returns- even after rejecting his proposal, he drifts around you like a lost stray dog. And he is always covered in blood, looking furious- but when you talk, his expression simply melts away like butter to a grin that shows his sharp teeth.

“What do ya mean what I’m doin’? Makin’ sure nobody hurts you.” He snickers. He smells like metal, like he always does, but this time it’s overpowering, which lets you know what he’s been doing.

“I don’t need protection, Boothill. You can just leave me alone.”

You’re beyond annoyed at his clinginess. No matter how many times you reject him, he’d always come back, showing something new off to you, and half the time it wasn’t anything pleasant, but rather his list of crimes.

“Aww, don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He chuckles and flashes a grin and his other metal hand spontaneously pulls you into his embrace— you jump. When did his hand get there? “All I wanna do is to make sure my future wife is safe and sound. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“I told you, I’m not going to accept-“

“Ah ah! Wait and see, you will be, I promise. But don’t drag the chase a lil too long. Even I get impatient.” Something cold pressed against your forehead and you realize it’s his gun. When your expression turns aghast with fear, he barks an amused laugh.

“You scared of this? Nah, I’d never hurt ya. Won’t wanna turn your body into metal like mine.” Although he says this with a dark smirk, he doesn’t remove the gun. “The sooner you agree to it, the merciful I become. Ya don’t wanna see innocent guys die because of your stupidity, hm?”

[casssmalefantasy]

OFF MUTE — PAIGE BUECKERS X READER!

| synopsis: you never thought your casual scroll on tiktok would land you on a live with kk arnold and paige bueckers. but a last-minute song request, a few suspicious smiles, and one dm later… you’re starting to think paige might’ve just found her new favorite singer.

| warnings: secondhand embarrassment, lots of flirting, suggestive banter, minor swearing, social media chaos, and hints of mutual pining

| word count: 3.2k / part two

you’ve been a uconn wbb fan for a minute now. it started out casual—just catching games on tv and watching clips on twitter—but it quickly turned into something deeper. the kind where you know their next five matchups, have favorite pregame fits saved on your phone, and would absolutely fake confidence if any of them ever looked your way in person.

you’ve already been to two home games this season, and yes, you may or may not have replayed that one clip of paige doing a no-look dime to azzi like thirty times.

so when you see kkarnold2 pop up in your tiktok live notifications, your fingers move before your brain even catches up.

you click in.

the screen loads, and there they are—kk and paige, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on what looks like paige’s bed, a mountain of snacks behind them and the sound of a basketball game from the tv playing in the background.

“we live. what’s up girly pops,” kk says immediately, grinning into the camera. she does a peace sign while sticking her tounge out, and paige snorts beside her.

“hey girly pops,” paige mimics, reaching for a gummy worm. “i sound just like camera, huh?.” she says while smirking.

“girl boo,” kk says. “you lucky i invited you. the people don’t come here for you.”

“bold lie,” paige says, looking directly into the camera now. “they definitely come for me. watch this—”

she leans in closer. “talent show.”

and just like that, the comments start exploding. people are begging to go live. some are typing “i can do a backflip on command” and others are already screaming “PAIGE I LOVE YOU” in all caps.

you laugh to yourself, just watching. you remember the last “talent show” live they did. someone tried to do a magic trick and exposed themselves accidentally. it was chaos.

kk starts accepting people randomly—one girl screams as soon as the camera flips, another guy attempts to rap, and two different girls sing a snippet of sza before fangirling too hard to finish.

you pause for a second. bite your lip. then… screw it. you hit the request button.

you don't actually expect anything, though.

“ooh hold up,” kk says, squinting. “this username kinda cute. should i let them in?”

paige leans over to look at her screen. “wait, show me the pfp.”

there’s a beat.

then paige goes quiet. really quiet.

so quiet you hear her say under her breath, “pretty.”

but the mic picks it up.

kk turns to look at her, then immediately starts grinning. “paige.”

before you can panic and back out, your screen changes.

you’re live.

with paige bueckers staring directly at you.

“yo!” kk cheers. “we got a new one. say what’s up!”

“h-hi,” you manage, trying not to sound like your heart’s doing jumping jacks. “uh… i wasn’t actually expecting to get in.”

“too late now,” paige says, smiling. “you’re here. what’s your talent?”

you blink. “uh… i sing.”

“yesss,” kk claps. “okay pick a song, we ready.”

“you pick,” you say, a little bolder now. “what do you want to hear?”

paige doesn’t even hesitate. “sza. sing ‘love language.’”

you raise an eyebrow. “is that your favorite or something?”

paige shrugs, but she’s smirking. “might be.”

you set your phone down, take a breath, and hit play on the instrumental in the background.

the second the first note drops, paige mouths the intro. then stops completely once you start singing.

you’re locked in now—soft, smooth vocals floating through the speaker. eyes half-closed. completely in your element.

the chat explodes.

@buckets4bueckers: WAIT SHE CAN ACTUALLY SING

@kkarnoldstan420: PAIGE LOOKING LIKE SHE'S IN LOVE RN

@d1gf4paige: this girl is fine AND talented??? bye.

@fuddnation: paige got her mouth open 😭

@bueckherdownbad: THE WAY PAIGE LOOKED AT HER??? I’M SWEATING

@paigesgfconfirmed: y’all this is the real draft night

@szaandslay: girl sang sza and stole paige’s heart on live… legend

@loveandlayups: paige better dm her RIGHT NOW

you keep going. full verse, chorus, little riff at the end.

when you finish, there’s a few seconds of silence.

then—

“oh my god,” kk says. “no cause you ate that.”

“like, actually,” paige says, still staring. “you’re insane.”

you glance at the chat. one comment catches your eye: “paige been smiling since she joined.”

paige reads it too. she covers her mouth, laughing. then leans out of frame and lightly punches kk in the arm.

“you see how they got me lookin right now?”

kk cackles. “you did it to yourself.”

“nah. don’t even start right now.” paige says

you’re blushing hard now. “okayyyy i think it’s time to pass the mic to someone else.”

paige frowns. “what? no, sing another.”

you shake your head, trying to keep it smooth. “wish i could, but i got homework. maybe next time.”

kk nods. “respect. education comes first. even if paige is heartbroken.”

“literally shut up,” paige says, half-laughing, half-hiding her face.

she suddenly turns to kk. “wait—mute the live real quick.”

kk gives her a look, but does it.

the screen goes silent for twenty seconds. they’re clearly talking. paige’s hands are moving a lot.

then the live un-mutes.

paige leans back into the camera. “thank you for joining. you’re seriously amazing.”

“come back next time!” kk adds. “we need some more.”

you smile. “will do. night y’all.”

the second you leave the live, your phone buzzes.

followed by: paigebueckers and kkarnold2

then—another notification.

dm from paigebueckers:

hey. you really killed that. we should talk more sometime.

and you sit there smiling, already typing your message back to her.

[ruesol]

Boxer!Sukuna who dedicates his first ever win to you

Note: female reader

Masterlist

Your heart was racing. Sukuna had prepared you for the fact that boxing arenas could get overwhelming with the constant yelling and cheering for violence, but you still felt uneasy watching your boyfriend receive punch after punch.

You knew your boyfriend was just a rookie boxer but you couldn’t help but pray that by some miracle, he would be able to defeat his opponent. He had been training specifically for this match for the past two months and had sacrificed his blood, sweat and tears for it. It didn’t help that his opponent was a seasoned winner.

Your chest tightened as Sukuna was struck down once again. All you could think about was how he would study his opponent’s moves late at night while you stayed up with him. You pressed your hands together, hoping that he would win by some miracle.

Almost as if on cue, Sukuna managed to dodge a critical hit and wound his arm to absolutely knock out his opponent. The other fighter fell on to the ground and did not get up even after the countdown. The referee grabbed Sukuna’s hand and raised it in the air as the crowd erupted in cheers.

You let out a sigh of relief and clapped as loudly as possible for your boyfriend’s triumph. It was his first win as a professional boxer. He was going to start making a name for himself pretty soon and you could only imagine what was to come after. He deserved this. It was all because of his hard work and resilience.

Sukuna’s tired eyes searched for yours in the VIP box and you smiled at him. He returned an exhausted one back to you and proceeded to do something you never expected.

He kissed his fingers and pointed to you, all your friends and in the VIP box began clamoring with teases and giggles.

Even while being adorned with his belt, Sukuna’s eyes never left yours. He mentioned earlier that your presence was integral to his success but you never knew it was to such a degree. You blew him a flowing kiss and he chuckled at the sight. He didn’t even bother to look at the cameras looming around him until his manager told him to pose for the pictures.

Of course, after his first win, he was immediately subject to a press conference. He sulked at first, hoping that he could share at least a moment with you before being bombarded with questions but he decided to get it over with so he could go home soon.

“Mr. Sukuna, how do you feel after your first win.”

“Fucking tired.” Your bruised and battered boyfriend replied. The crowded erupted into a few giggles and murmurs at his deadpan reply.

“Would you like to mention any people that helped you become a good fighter?”

“Aside from my coach, I want to dedicate my win to my girlfriend. She put up with a lot of my shit while training.”

You giggled at his reply from backstage. Supporting wasn’t a chore but it was extensive work. Cooking twice the amount of food so he could bulk, constantly having your sleep disturbed because he would train in the early hours of the morning, and not go too crazy when you ate out on dates was difficult but well worth the effort.

-

After the press conference, you two were back home. Sukuna had retired to your bedroom while you did the finishing touches of your night time skin care.

“The winner of today’s fight commands his woman’s presence.” Your boyfriend called out, urging you to hurry up. You put away your containers and walked to the bedroom. “I’m here, your majesty.” You sarcastically replied as you laid down next to him. He had a frown on his face from being alone.

He opened up the blanket to let you in and slotted you next to him with your back facing his chest. His arms wrapped around you as he tucked your head under his chin. “I forgot to congratulate you earlier.” You speak out.

He hums and squeezes you. “Thanks. Only took you 3 hours to say that.” You could almost feel him sulk.

“Can you blame me? You were surrounded by people. I needed to let you have your moment.” You reasoned.

“What about when we were driving back? It was just you and me in the car.”

“You fell asleep as soon as your ass touched the seat.”

He scoffed at your reply and pushed you away. “Whatever, it’s not like getting a congratulatory kiss from my girlfriend was the only thing I wanted.” He said as he turned his back you.

This man was a big baby. The world saw him as an upcoming and fearful fighter but here he was sulking over the fact that you didn’t give him attention.

You giggled and rubbed his back to soothe him. “I can still give you a congratulatory kiss if you want.” For a second, you swore that he almost turned around but he gave you the silent treatment instead. “Kuna,” you whined. As much as you cringed while saying it, you knew using that nickname was his weakness.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, baby. Let me give you the kind of kiss a winner deserves.” You said as you rubbed his stomach. The man turned around, eyes not meeting yours. He was still sporting the frown from earlier.

You held his face in your hands. Your fingers traced his tattoos and you could see his eyes rapidly moving because of your touch. You giggled and moved your fingers to his lips. Luckily, his opponent missed them during the fight so you could easily kiss him.

You slowly pressed your lips against his and he immediately reciprocated. While your touch was delicate with your hand on cradling face, his touch was rougher. His hand entwined in your hair as his body pressed to yours. Your tongue entered his mouth and he gladly welcomed it which a slight suck.

His free hand travelled down to your waist and rolled you on top of him. The kiss would’ve gotten more heated if he didn’t wince all of a sudden.

“What’s wrong, Kuna?”

He propped you back down on the bed. And grabbed the area right beneath his chest. “Ah shit, I forgot about my rib getting bruised.” You grimaced at the thought of him being in pain.

“Want me to get some ice? I can always sleep on the couch so I don’t end up accidentally kicking you.” You said out of concern.

His eyes widened and he quickly shook his head. “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad.” He grabbed ahold of your waist again and just pulled you close to him. “I didn’t win that trophy so my girlfriend could sleep on the couch. And since I’m a boxing champion, I can handle a few punches from you.”

“But-“

“Shush.” He pecked you on the lips to keep you from protesting. “This is how I wanna celebrate my first win. With you next to me.”