#I like the contrast between her when she's on a mission and when she's at home
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harryssyndrome · 21 hours ago
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The Red Key | h.s (AU)
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summery: When a rogue agent threatens global security with a deadly bioweapon known as Red Key, two operatives-Harry and YN-are drawn into a high-stakes mission where trust is fragile and betrayal cuts deep. YN, hiding her true identity behind a glamorous cover, must get close to a man from her past, while Harry races against time to stop a looming catastrophe. As the lines between duty and desire blur, the duo must outwit a cunning enemy and confront secrets that could destroy everything.
word count: 2.8k || Masterlist 🔫❤️‍🔥
A/N: Felt a little inspired by mission impossible II so why no 😌 I hope it’s nice little thing to read😅 warning? not proofread. It’s a mini series so a part or two. I’m sorry if it’s shit, I tried my best. my life’s a mess so… I’m not at my best, I’m posting after so long. it’s been in my draft for months, I promise dadrry are better. Like & reblog are appreciated, let me know if you wanna be added to the tag-list, feel free to leave comments. Mwah! 💋
Tag-list: @wheredidmyeyesgo @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 @cherryloveshs @harryyloverrr | Tag-list is OPEN || Request are OPEN
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The grandeur of the gala was designed to impress. The sprawling ballroom was a display of unapologetic wealth, with every detail meticulously curated to reflect the stature of its host. From the cascading crystal chandeliers that bathed the room in a soft golden glow to the opulent red-and-gold tapestries adorning the walls, everything screamed excess. Waiters moved like shadows, weaving seamlessly through the crowd with silver trays balanced expertly in their hands. Glasses of champagne and delicate hors d’oeuvres passed from tray to guest in a rhythm as choreographed as the string quartet’s melody.
YN stood near one of the massive arched windows, her reflection a shimmering silhouette against the night. Her dress—a figure-hugging gown of midnight blue sequins—caught the light with every subtle movement, transforming her into a walking constellation. She looked every bit the rising singer she claimed to be, her soft smile and easy confidence drawing glances from all corners of the room.
But beneath the surface, her mind was focused and sharp. This wasn’t her world—no, it was her stage. And tonight, her performance was a heist.
Her mission was clear: retrieve the Red Key. Hidden somewhere in this labyrinthine estate was a device that could destabilize the world’s balance of power. The encrypted USB, codenamed the Red Key, housed a revolutionary program capable of dismantling even the most secure systems. For YN, this wasn’t just a job—it was a gamble. The paycheck was astronomical, enough to wipe away her debts and buy her freedom. But failure? Failure meant more than just losing her reputation—it meant death.
As YN surveyed the room, she felt the weight of her double life settle heavily on her shoulders. On the surface, she was a singer—a talent just beginning to garner whispers of fame. Her soulful voice and enigmatic stage presence had made her a subject of intrigue in elite circles. But in reality, her music was a façade, a clever cover that granted her access to places like this. She wasn’t here to perform. She was here to steal.
Her target was Lord Carlisle, the eccentric billionaire hosting the gala. Known for his insatiable appetite for collecting rare and dangerous artifacts, Carlisle was rumored to have acquired the Red Key through the black market. It was locked away in his private server room, and YN had spent months studying the estate’s layout to plan her approach.
She sipped her champagne as her eyes roved over the crowd. Carlisle stood near the center of the room, surrounded by sycophants and admirers. His laughter boomed over the delicate strains of music, his booming voice a sharp contrast to the otherwise refined atmosphere. YN’s lips curved into a small, calculated smile.
The first step was simple: blend in.
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YN wove through the crowd with practiced ease, exchanging polite smiles and nods with other guests. She stopped briefly to admire a display of Carlisle’s prized artifacts—ancient relics encased in glass—and engaged in small talk with a curator who seemed all too eager to share their knowledge. It was all part of the act.
But as she moved toward the east wing—the restricted area where the server room was hidden—a prickle of awareness crawled up her spine. Someone was watching her.
She turned her head just slightly, catching the gaze of a man leaning casually against the bar. His tailored black tuxedo fit him like a second skin, and his dark curls fell perfectly into place, framing a face that seemed carved from marble. But it was his eyes that held her attention—intense and unrelenting, like they could see straight through her.
She recognized him instantly. Harry Styles.
MI6’s golden boy.
Her stomach clenched. If Styles was here, the stakes were higher than she’d anticipated. MI6 didn’t send agents to fancy galas for no reason. They sent them to stop people like her.
Their eyes locked for a moment, and he raised his glass in a mock salute. His lips curved into a faint smile, but there was no mistaking the challenge in his gaze.
YN forced herself to return the smile, her mind racing. If Styles suspected her, she couldn’t afford to let it show. She turned away and resumed her path toward the east wing, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Nice voice,” a smooth voice interrupted her thoughts.
YN stopped mid-step, cursing inwardly. She turned slowly, schooling her features into an expression of mild curiosity.
Harry stood just a few feet away, his posture relaxed but his eyes razor-sharp. Up close, he was even more disarming, his presence exuding a quiet confidence that was impossible to ignore.
“You haven’t heard me sing yet,” she replied, her tone light and playful.
“I don’t need to. I have an ear for talent,” he said, raising his glass to her.
YN kept her smile intact, though her mind raced with contingency plans. “Good to know. But I should be going—people to meet, champagne to drink.”
“Of course. Don’t let me keep you,” he said, stepping aside with an almost imperceptible bow.
But as she walked away, she felt his eyes follow her, a constant weight pressing against her back.
The east wing was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of the gala. August moved swiftly, her footsteps muffled by the plush red carpet. She reached the server room without incident, her fingers brushing over the keypad as she punched in the code she’d memorized.
The door clicked open, and she slipped inside.
The room was a technological fortress, lined with sleek black servers that hummed softly in the cool, climate-controlled air. YN pulled a decoy USB drive from her clutch—a fake designed to bypass the system’s defenses—and plugged it into the main console.
Her fingers danced over the keyboard as she navigated the system, bypassing layers of encryption with practiced ease. But just as she accessed the folder containing the Red Key, a voice shattered the silence.
“Mind if I cut in?”
Her blood ran cold. She spun around, her heart hammering in her chest.
Harry stood in the doorway, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp gaze told her he wasn’t here to make small talk.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice steady despite the panic clawing at her throat.
“I could ask you the same,” he replied, stepping closer. “But I already know. You’re here for the Red Key.”
Her mind raced, calculating her options. She could lunge for the taser hidden in her clutch, but something told her he’d see it coming.
“And you’re here to stop me?” she asked, her tone edged with defiance.
“Not exactly.” He glanced at the flashing red light above the door. “You tripped a silent alarm when you accessed that panel. Guards will be here in less than a minute.”
She cursed under her breath. The system must have detected the decoy USB.
“Fine,” she said, stepping away from the console. “But this doesn’t mean I trust you.”
“Good,” he replied with a smirk. “I don’t trust you either.”
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The escape was chaos.
The guards arrived in droves, their shouts echoing through the hallway as they fired warning shots. YN and Harry sprinted down the corridor, their movements perfectly synchronized despite the tension crackling between them.
“In here!” Harry barked, pulling her into a narrow service elevator.
The doors closed just as a hail of bullets slammed into the metal.
YN leaned against the wall, catching her breath. “This isn’t exactly how I planned my night.”
“Really? I thought you were enjoying yourself,” Harry quipped, adjusting his cufflinks as if they weren’t running for their lives.
She glared at him. “Don’t get used to this partnership.”
“Believe me, I won’t.”
The chase ended in the estate’s garage, where Harry hotwired a sleek black car with alarming ease.
“You’re full of surprises,” YN muttered as she slid into the passenger seat.
“You have no idea,” he replied, revving the engine.
The tires screeched as they sped out of the garage, leaving the estate and its chaos behind.
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The car sped down a winding road that cut through a dense forest, the headlights slicing through the darkness. Harry’s hands gripped the steering wheel with practiced ease, his gaze focused on the road ahead. YN sat beside him, her arms crossed and jaw clenched, the tension between them palpable.
She broke the silence first. “You didn’t have to get involved, you know.”
Harry glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable. “And let you fumble your way out of a shootout? Tempting, but no.”
“I had it under control,” she said, her tone sharp.
“You’re welcome,” he shot back, his voice tinged with amusement.
YN exhaled sharply, turning her gaze out the window. The forest blurred into streaks of black and green, but her mind was fixed on the mission. The Red Key had slipped through her fingers, and she wasn’t sure if she could salvage the situation. Worse, she was now tethered to Harry Styles, MI6’s golden boy, whose motives remained frustratingly opaque.
“Where are we going?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“To regroup,” Harry replied. “You’re not the only one who wants the Red Key, you know.”
YN frowned. “So, what’s your angle? You swoop in, play hero, and then what? Hand it over to your bosses so they can lock it up in some classified vault?”
Harry smirked. “Something like that.”
Her frown deepened. She couldn’t afford to let MI6 take control of the device—not when she was this close to securing her freedom. But for now, she needed Harry’s help to stay ahead of Carlisle’s men.
They reached a secluded safe house an hour later, a modest cabin hidden deep in the woods. Harry parked the car and stepped out, moving with the casual confidence of someone who’d done this a hundred times before.
“Make yourself at home,” he said, unlocking the door.
The interior was spartan but functional—a single-room space with a kitchenette, a worn sofa, and a desk cluttered with maps and surveillance equipment. YN took it all in with a raised brow.
“Charming,” she said dryly.
Harry ignored the jab, heading to the desk and pulling out a laptop. “We don’t have much time. Carlisle’s men will be searching for us, and they won’t stop until they recover the Red Key.”
YN crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So, what’s the plan?”
Harry looked up at her, his expression serious. “We work together.”
She scoffed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all,” he replied. “You’re good, but you’re not getting that device on your own. Carlisle has an army of guards and the best security money can buy. You need me.”
“And what’s in it for you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Harry leaned back in his chair, studying her. “Let’s just say I have my reasons.”
It wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but it would have to do.
As the night wore on, the two of them pored over the intel Harry had gathered on Carlisle’s estate. Blueprints, security codes, and surveillance footage littered the desk, creating a mosaic of the billionaire’s heavily fortified world.
“His private jet leaves tomorrow morning,” Harry said, pointing to a flight plan on the screen. “If he takes the Red Key with him, we’ll lose our chance to intercept it.”
YN frowned, tracing her finger over the estate’s layout. “Then we hit him tonight.”
Harry raised a brow. “Bold move.”
“Desperate times,” she replied with a shrug.
He studied her for a moment, his gaze unreadable. “You’re not what I expected,” he said finally.
She looked up, meeting his eyes. “And what did you expect?”
“Someone colder. Detached. But you… you’re different.”
YN’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Don’t let it fool you. I’m as dangerous as they come.”
Harry chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Later, as they prepared for the mission, YN caught Harry watching her again.
“Something on your mind?” she asked, slipping a knife into her boot.
He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Why do you do it? The heists, the double life… What’s the endgame?”
She paused, considering her answer. “Freedom,” she said simply. “I’ve spent my whole life running—from debts, from mistakes, from people who wanted to control me. This job… it’s my way out.”
Harry nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Fair enough.”
“And what about you?” she countered. “Why MI6? Why risk your life for a government that probably sees you as expendable?”
His smile was faint, almost wistful. “Because someone has to. And I’m good at it.”
Their eyes met, a quiet understanding passing between them.
The mission began under the cover of darkness.
Harry and YN slipped back into Carlisle’s estate, their movements silent and precise. This time, they worked together seamlessly, their strengths complementing each other in ways neither had anticipated.
Harry disabled the perimeter alarms while YN picked the lock on a side entrance. Inside, they navigated the maze-like corridors with practiced ease, avoiding guards and security cameras with the skill of seasoned professionals.
At one point, they found themselves pressed against a wall, a pair of guards passing just inches away. YN could feel Harry’s breath against her ear, his presence both reassuring and distracting.
“Stay close,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest.
When they finally reached Carlisle’s office, the tension was nearly unbearable.
The Red Key sat on his desk, a small but menacing device that seemed almost innocuous in its simplicity.
“Is that it?” YN asked, her voice low.
Harry nodded. “That’s it.”
She moved to grab it, but Harry stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Wait,” he said, pointing to a faint red beam of light scanning the desk. “Laser tripwire. He’s not taking any chances.”
YN cursed under her breath. “Can you disable it?”
Harry smirked, pulling a small device from his pocket. “Watch and learn.”
The extraction was flawless—until it wasn’t.
As they exited the office, an alarm blared, shattering the silence. Carlisle’s men were on them in an instant, their shouts echoing through the halls.
“Go!” Harry shouted, shoving YN ahead of him.
They sprinted toward the exit, dodging bullets and ducking behind cover as the guards pursued them relentlessly.
When they finally reached the car, YN turned to Harry, her eyes blazing. “You planned this, didn’t you? You wanted the distraction!”
He didn’t deny it. “It worked, didn’t it?”
Before she could reply, the sound of approaching engines cut through the night. Carlisle’s men weren’t giving up without a fight
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xmrnothingx · 1 year ago
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Samus Aran from Metroid
It's that time of year again, time to draw Samus in a sweater. This time in cool, over-the-shoulder pose. And if it wasn't obvious enough, I love drawing hair, especially Sammy's
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licorice-and-rum · 1 month ago
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Something that really hit my like a punch about SOTR is how Suzanne Collins decided to write Haymitch's relationship with the women in his life because (in a clear contrast with Snow) even in his times of doubt over them, even when he's talking about Drusilla (fuck her btw), he still has a level of respect Snow didn't show for any of the women in his life in TBOSAS.
He sees Maysilee and Louella as sisters and each of them have strengths he admires deeply — in contrast with Snow thinking of Tigris (his actual cousin) as someone whose appearance "invited abuse."
Even Lenore Dove's most worrisome characteristics come for Haymitch from a place of care and love for her, from a desire to keep her safe, not to control her. Haymitch loved Lenore Dove for who she was, regardless of her rebelliousness maybe causing trouble for him. I don't even have to mention the contrast to Snow, right?
Even Effie, whose alienation certainly annoyed him, is talked about in a way thay shows and extensive highlights her empathy beneath her propagandized opinions. Haymitch never disrespects Effie or thinks of her disrespectfully despite the fact that is hinted that she has some behaviors that annoyed him. Snow, however, thinks of his female classmates with a irritated tone that visibly undermines them and their good traits.
Even the contrast between Drusilla and Gaul. Right, Drusilla is not as powerful as Gaul when they're presented to the reader, and Haymitch and Snow come from very different places, but Drusilla is the closes thing Haymitch will get to a powerful ally from the Capitol. Yet, he rejects her (in a quieter way than Maysilee does but still does it) almost right away because of her obvious cruelty. It doesn't appeal to him is the slightest like it does to Snow.
Also, the contrast between how Snow and Haymitch see the sacrifices the women in their lives make with the former disgusted at Tigris and the later showing how much he loves his mom (also) because of all the sacrifices she made to keep him and Sid alive and well, even if it devastates him (like the fact that they don't have a cake in the birthdays in fairness to him not getting a cake or the loss of the shirt his mother had so carefully sewn together for him).
Suzanne Collins didn't just made her mission to say a big fuck you to people who were romanticizing Snow, she showed us what we all should expect from a man (again btw) and you gotta respect her for it.
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gravegoer · 6 months ago
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OMG I love your last sevika work💖😍
Can we maybe have more oblivious reader ?🥹👉👈
Maybe reader being a total housewife for sevika and loving her VERY much 💖 (my girl deserve a rest )
Taking care of her ✧₊⁺
thank you for your support ! i totally agree with you, my girl needs a BREAK so heres to giving some loving to sevika when she needs it and implementing a little more oblivious reader :) + a little blurb at the end for fun <3 !!
masterlist here
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You let Sevika over often. She found a kind of comfort at your home, more so than at hers. Her place was kind of.. plain. I mean, it was funded by Silco, and she's barely home to begin with, always out on missions or at the bar.
But after you offered her your key, saying, "You can come over anytime you want, I don't mind." She definitely took up that invitation. But not without teasing you.
"Want me to come whisk you away in the night, huh? I bet you'd like that."
She basically moved in with you, coming home after a particularly hard mission late at night, sliding into bed with you. You would awake at the intrusion and immediately tell her to get up so you could survey her injuries.
Sometimes you'd make her warm soup if you were alert enough, she wrapped her thick arms around you, her warm hand contrasting with the cold metallic of the prosthetic. Breathing deeply into your ear as you stirred the pot.
You just being her cute little wife made her melt.
On the nights you didn't wake, she would let you sleep in, watching the way your eyelids flutter in your slumber. Letting out a deep chuckle at your small snores. Then she would walk over to the window and light a cigarillo before you awoke.
Instead of going to the bar when she was stressed she would lay in your lap on the couch while you massaged her head, making all her worries shrink away. She groans when it feels especially good, and furrows her eyebrows when you giggle at her noises.
Speaking of massages, she loves when you rub her tense shoulders and whisper sweet things to her. Although she would never admit to it, she smiles at your adamant complements when her face isn't in view.
While your fingers work into her broad shoulders she would tell you stories about the people she has met and the places she's been. The places she wants to take you.
She tilted her head back to rest it on your chest, looking up at you with hooded eyelids as a smile adorns your face. Planting a soft kiss to her forehead you continued your motions.
She screams internally when she sees you walk around the house with a cute apron on. "Kiss the cook? Don't mind if I do," She purred, tilting your chin to plant a hot kiss on your lips.
When you asked her if she liked your cooking she was always painfully honest. Especially when it was good. She lets out a huge dramatic sigh at a good bite of a hot meal. And an even more dramatic grimace at a pinch too much salt.
When she stayed the night she would let you put her hair up in the morning, and on occasion help her get dressed. She calls you over to help her with the buttons on her vest, knowing full well she can do it herself. (She just wants to watch your cute concentrated face) Sevika indulges in the brush of your fingers against her chest, soft and gentle.
Her scent lingered when she left for the day, the dull smell of leather and something warm. She tries not to light up a cigarillo in your house often but the smell does inhabit the couch where she often lit one up while you sat all pretty in her lap.
She loved the way you felt atop her thick thighs, your legs dangling in between hers. She rubbed your thigh with her mechanical hand affectionately while she took a drag. These are the moments you savored.
One morning you woke up significantly earlier then Sevika, the dim moonlight peering through your blinds. Glancing at the clock you read " 5 a.m. " You tried to roll over, back into Sevika's chest as an attempt to lull yourself back to sleep. Her warmth radiates on your face and you try to snuggle impossibly closer so that it would spread throughout your body.
After a few minutes of tossing and turning you ultimately decided to get up. You silently cursed your forgetfulness, as the night before you stupidly forgot to draw your curtains. Slowly slipping out of bed you padded your way to the bathroom and flicked on the lights. The soft buzz of the bulb welcomed you as you fixed your messy bedhead in the mirror.
Turning on the faucet, warm water ran over your hands, after splashing it on your face you peered over at the tub. An idea popped into your head. Sevika's had a rough week and she could definitely use some relaxing before the weekend. You smirked at your bright idea. Waking up to a beautiful girl and a warm bath? What's better than that? (Nothing)
Cranking the handle of hot water you tested it, humming to yourself at the temperature. It filled the bath slowly and you watched while you sat on the edge of the tub. Thinking about how Sevika will enjoy your surprise, imagining her cute reaction, and perhaps her lips on yours. At your thoughts you almost drifted to sleep when you were pulled out of your daze by the hot steam hitting your face.
Standing up, you pulled out some soothing bath salts from under your sink, pouring a little into the bath. Swirling the water around with your hands you pumped some soap into the water, coating the surface of the water with bubbles.
When you were satisfied you tip toed back into your room, drying your hands off on your clothes. You giggled at Sevika's large frame on your bed, her snores muffled by the plush pillow on her face. You almost couldnt bring yourself to wake her up.
But you touched her gently on the arm, "Sevi, wake up," You whispered.
When she didn't respond you shook her carefully. She groaned at the intrusion and turned to face you. "What..? it's too early for this," Her husky voice grumbled. She wasn't pleased to see you standing at the edge of the bed instead of laying beside her.
"I have a surprise for you," You whispered sweetly.
This made her squeeze her eyes shut for another second and sigh before running her hands over her face, "Okay, surprise me sweetheart."
You pulled her out of her spot, the blankets pooling on the floor around her feet. Helping her stand up you lead her to the dimly lit bathroom. Her hand was warm in yours, you noted the her light squeeze when she saw what was beyond the bathroom door.
Looking up at her face you saw a small smile grace her features, highlighted by the glow of the light, "All for me?"
You smirked in pride, "Yep! I knew you'd need it. Like it, huh?"
"Always know what I need," She purred while stroking your cheek with a thick finger.
Walking over to the tub, she sat on the edge. Her two fingers beckoned you to come closer, spreading her legs so you could stand between them.
"Join me?"
thank you for the ask ! this was fun to write and i hope for more asks in the future :) my inbox is always open !! and as always reblogs and kudos are always appreciated let me know if you liked this <𝟑 .ᐟ
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berryz-writes · 6 months ago
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Blue
Azriel x reader
Summary: There's a large contrast between the warm and gentle Az you get to enjoy versus the cold and quiet demeanour he reserves for others
Note: FIRST FULL WEEK I HAVE THINGS PLANNED OUT FOR. this isn't entirely my favourite but fuck it we ball <33 enjoy lovelies
@azrielappreciationweek day 1
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The kitchen is a warm, flour-dusted haven, filled with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla as Azriel leans over my shoulder, watching me whisk the batter with an amused glint in his eyes.
“You know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck, “you could just let me do that.” He slips his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against him. “Your hands might get tired.”
I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “I think I can handle a little whisking.” I turn to face him, catching the soft, rare smile that lights his face, the one that only appears when it’s just us. I lean up, brushing a light kiss to his lips, and feel him pull me closer, his fingers resting at the small of my back.
“Hmm,” he hums, deep and quiet, his lips lingering just a moment longer. “You taste like sugar.”
“You’re distracting me,” I say, trying and failing to keep a straight face.
“Good,” he replies, his voice low. His gaze drops to the cupcakes cooling on the counter, and he raises an eyebrow. “They’re missing something.”
“Exactly,” I sigh, surveying the icing jars and realizing I’ve run out of the last colour I need. I hesitate, glancing at him, knowing he’s had a long week of missions and should probably be resting. But he just tilts his head, a patient smile on his face, like he already knows what I’m about to ask.
“Could you pick up more icing for me?” I ask, brushing a bit of flour off his cheek, unable to hide my smile. “Please?”
He chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Anything for you.” There’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, a soft devotion that melts me from the inside out.
As he steps back, he squeezes my hand. “Save a few for me?”
“All of them,” I reply with a grin, watching as he heads to the door, wings stretching wide in the golden afternoon light. He gives me one last look before taking off, a dark silhouette against the sky.
Azriel's POV
Flying over the city, my mind lingers on her, the soft warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes light up when I walk into the room. She’s goddess incarnate, far too perfect for me.
The cold air rushes past as I fly, enjoying the time to stretch out my wings to their fullest.
But halfway through my journey, I feel Rhysand’s voice slip into my thoughts, quiet and laced with urgency.
Azriel, we have a guest in the dungeons. I need answers from him if you're available, it's urgent
I think about his words. Maybe if it had been a few months ago Rhys wouldn't have added the part of me being "available" knowing I was waiting at the chance to distract my mind. But ever since y/n walked into my life it was getting easier and easier to spend days doing nothing except enjoy her company. No torture sessions. No constant dagger sharpening. Just time spent with her.
Fine.
Was the simple reply I gave. It would only take a few minutes of my time.
The warmth I felt just minutes ago fades as I turn, heading down toward the underground jail, where shadows and silence reign. My shadows coil tighter around me, sharper, attuned to the work at hand as I descend into the dim halls of the dungeon.
The heavy door creaks open, and I step inside to find the prisoner chained to a chair, his gaze faltering as he meets mine. He tries to summon some defiance, but I can see the fear flicker beneath it, his breaths shallow as my shadows drift closer, surrounding him in darkness. This won’t take long.
I approach him slowly, letting each step echo off the stone walls. Leaning forward, I let my voice drop to a low, controlled murmur, knowing how much more effective a whisper can be. “Let's make this quick. Tell me everything you know"
I didn't have to elaborate on what I meant by everything. He knew what I was here for and I would get it one way or another.
He’s silent at first, eyes darting, and I can see him calculating his options. But there’s no fight in him, not against what he senses I’m capable of. My shadows close in, tightening like a noose around him, each word I speak dripping with cold intent.
After a slow drag of my dagger down the column of his neck the information begins to spill out, fast and frantic. I listen carefully, never blinking, absorbing each detail.
No need for lost blood; I extract every piece with surgical precision, each question laced with the promise of what could happen if he resists. Soon, he’s left shuddering, broken, and silent.
I silently thank the cauldron he didn't make this difficult otherwise I would have to clean up before getting to my wife and the thought of keeping her waiting was not something I enjoyed.
Before I leave, I pause, tilting my head as I look down at him with one last, almost casual question. “Pick a colour.”
His face twists in confusion, fear giving way to bewilderment. “Uh… blue,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.
I give him a curt nod, acknowledging his choice before I turn and leave him to the shadows that linger. As I step into the fresh air aboveground, I make my way to a small shop, selecting a container of bright blue icing, a flash of colour that feels strange against the cold efficiency of what I’ve just done.
When I arrive home, I find her at the counter, surrounded by stacks of sweet heaven. She lights up as she sees me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. "Az! Thank you my love" she says, taking the container and pressing a warm kiss to my cheek.
I'd be lying if i said I didn't melt.
But then she pauses, glancing at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “What took so long?”
I shake my head, not wanting her to worry “You don’t need to worry” I murmur, my voice gentle. “Rhys just needed something done”
She watches me closely, as if weighing my words, a knowing look in her eyes. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she smiles softly, letting her fingers brush over mine as she returns to her cupcakes.
I linger there, watching her work, feeling the lightness return to my chest as I settle back into the life we share. She doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.
With her I feel like life is worth living.
note: should have azriel year tbh
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yawnderu · 1 year ago
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ANGEL — John Price x Reader x Simon Riley
WC: 6,048 | Part I
Deep down, you knew Simon's way of telling you it's over between you was the moment he gave you his captain's number. Every single message you left Simon was left unanswered, not even opened most of the time, leaving you hoping that perhaps he was simply busy with his missions.
His deployments are oftentimes stressful from what you saw every time he came back home to you, yet you stopped convincing yourself everything was alright after 7 weeks of no contact. Simon Riley is not a coward— not unless it comes to feelings. You're too good for someone like him, someone who could drop dead at any moment, whose only achievements come from killing, forever tainting his hands with blood he can't seem to wash off no matter how many long showers he takes.
He rationalized for months, thought about it— thought about leaving you, too. Yet that lost puppy look of pure trust you gave him every single time he fucked into you, pretty moans leaving your parted lips and soft hands exploring his clothed body, desperately wanting to feel his bare skin against yours, something he never had the heart to give you. Too tainted, too scarred, too ugly. So like a broken man wanting to keep you safe, he did the best with what he had, leaving his captain's number on your night table the moment he was done cumming.
Over 2 months later, Simon still remembers the feeling of your warm skin beneath his lips, the look of pure vulnerability and love plastered on your face, so angelic and pretty, a sheer contrast to the nervousness on his, despite how natural it was to treat you with a tenderness he's never had with anyone in his entire life.
“He fell from a helicopter?” Crinkled eyes meet yours from across the table, taking a sip of his drink before letting out a dry chuckle, nodding his head.
“Aye, hangin' from a bloody rope. Had me scared, thinkin' I lost my Sergeant.” John said with a grin, his gaze softening at the way you were listening so intently, your full attention on him no matter how boring he thought his stories were.
“Is he scared of getting into helicopters again?” You lean a bit closer to him, your chin resting on your hand as you look up at him. From this angle, you're able to admire John's features from up-close. Every single grey hair adorning his beard, his crow's feet, the tiny beauty mark on his nose, the tiny spots on his face, likely gotten from spending a long time under the sun as a soldier from a young age.
“Of course. Took him a while to trust our pilots again, now he always double checks his gear's on right.” Price always pays attention to detail, the way your pupils dilate the longer you stare at him don't go unnoticed in the slightest. He asks a passing waitress for a check, not even giving you a second to offer to pay for your half before his card is already in her hands, going away to charge him for the dinner and drinks.
“And how's… what was his name again? Soap?” He smirks at the mild confusion when using Johnny's callsign, likely assuming it's simply a sex innuendo.
“Soap, yeah. He's a good kid, kind o' like the son I never had.” That gets your attention, looking away for a second to hold back a small smirk before looking back up at him, eyebrows raised.
“You don't have children?” That earns a small chuckle out of him, shaking his head at the question. He gave the waitress a small smile as she came back with his card, pocketing it and getting up from his chair, offering his arm up to you. There's no hesitation as you hook your arm with his, walking to his car.
“Never had girlfriends after joining the SAS. Became a captain at a young age, too.” He looks down at you as you walk, admiring your pretty features, secretly wondering how Simon could have fucked up that badly— how he let such a lovely and sweet girl go. He opens the car door for you, even going as far as to help you put on your seatbelt, letting you have a whiff at his woody cologne, the smell of smoke from cigars mixing in.
“What about you? Any children?” He asks teasingly, shooting you a playful grin before starting the car, blue eyes fully focused on the road. Unlike Simon, Price knows how to drive well, making you feel safe while on the road.
“Hell no. I've been… thinking about it, but men my age were never interested in that.” Even if he was much older, Simon was never even an option. Too emotionally unavailable, too fucked up to even consider having children.
“Part of the reason I like older men.” Your voice is smooth and even, a sheer contrast to the slight knot of nervousness tightening in your stomach, only coming undone when you hear his amused laugh.
Price's calloused palm rests on the gear shift before daring to move it over to your thigh, running up and done slowly, trying to heat up your cold skin rather than doing it to be a pervert, yet your body still reacts to his touch, warmth pooling on your lower stomach.
“Really, sweetheart?” Price isn't stupid in the slightest, yet unlike Simon, his actions aren't malicious. He simply wants to see you squirm, finding pure amusement in the laugh you both share and the playful slap you give to his arm.
“Stop using your charm on me.” You scold jokingly, unable to hide the big grin taking over your pretty face.
“I'm charming now, eh?” His grip tightens on your inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to tease you.
“According to Simon, you always have.” That makes one of his thick eyebrows raise questioningly, his lips pulling into an amused smile.
“I've known him for a long time, y'know? Back when we I was an LT.” He can't help but allow his mind to go back into the past as he drives, images of the eager Simon Riley, a broken man who simply wanted to change the world, who always helped without even asking for much in return.
“Has be always been… like that?” You ask after a few seconds of silence, allowing yourself to be the cat curiosity killed.
“No.” The Simon Riley he met was not similar to Ghost in the slightest.
“He was 'round 19 when I met him. Better than any recruits I've seen.” Yet still teased by his mates for being an apprentice butcher in the past, for being so rigid and basing his entire life on discipline, unlike the many other young soldiers who have since passed.
“I bet. He has that certain look on him, you know? The eyes. I wouldn't want to mess with him.” Price lets out a dry chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. Part of him is glad that he's been working with Simon because it seems that to know more about you, he needs to know about Simon as well.
“We're here, doll.” He parks the car, getting out of his seat and opening the door for you, his calloused hand resting on your lower back, guiding you to your house. You can feel the warmth from his hand spreading all over your body, soothing rubs up and down your back as you walk.
“Would you like a cuppa?” Mirth dances in his eyes at the audacity, already knowing your intentions, and yet.
“Of course.” Price follows after you, part of him growing excited by whatever you have in mind. Your slightly shaky hands fiddle with the keys before you're able to open the door, secretly thankful that you cleaned up your mess earlier in the day.
“What tea would you like?” You ask, turning around just in time to see Price finishing the once-over he was giving you.
“This isn't about tea, is it, darlin'?” He asks with a knowing smile, his jacket slipping out of his shoulders now that you're both inside the house. Blown pupils stare back at him, taking your time to admire the strong body hugged by his tight black shirt. You can see his bulging muscles, broad shoulders fully relaxed as he steps forward, towering over you. A monument of sorts when you're small.
“If I'm lucky, I hope not.” Your breathy voice was all Price needed as reassurance. His lips crash against yours, warm hands gripping your waist tight enough for you to feel the warmth spreading all over your lower body. The smell and taste of cigar smoke overwhelms your senses, too enthralled by the feeling of his tongue wrapping around yours, a small moan leaving your lips the moment his hand trails down to your ass, groping you with care, as if you're made of glass.
“How far do you wanna go?” His forehead leans against yours as his blown pupils stare back at you, his chest rising up and down with each breath.
“As far as you want to.” A small yelp leaves your lips when he lifts you in his arms, your legs instantly wrapping around his strong, muscular waist.
“Bedroom's there.” You don't even need to point— Price can see the open door, so enticing and tempting, allowing your small giggle to consume his whole soul like a siren's song. With carefulness that contrasts the brutality he uses as a soldier, Price sets you down in bed, strong arms on each side of your head, caging you in.
Your breaths mingle together as he leans down to kiss you again, warm tongues wrapping around the other, using his knee to spread your legs enough for his burly body to fit, subtly grinding against your clothed cunt.
“Been wantin' to do this for a long while.” Ever since Simon showed him your profile picture on WhatsApp, introducing you as a friend in need. He wouldn't dare confess it to anyone, not with the way his calloused hand rubbed his cock until it almost hurt, using your pretty face as a relief from the stress of war.
“Pretty fuckin' girl.” He praised, dragging a giggle out of you the moment his beard started tickling your neck, gentle kisses planted all over your warm, sensitive skin, his tongue darting past his lips to give your neck a tantalizing lick.
He can feel your hands exploring his strong body, his muscles bulging and tensing up beneath your soft palms. He only breaks apart the moment your hands go to the hem of his shirt, helping you pull it off of his body, the piece of clothing discarded on the floor.
“God…” Your whisper holds nothing but pure admiration, catching hints of his strong, muscular body, dark hair covering most of it. Your hand drifts up to his torso, caressing his surprisingly soft skin, not minding the scars you can feel beneath your hand. Price has been shot, stabbed, tortured, left for dead— his body acting as a keepsake of every mission gone wrong.
His gaze is soft as he stares down at you, holding a tenderness unlike a man like him, so naturally gentle and willing to show it without the walls guarding his heart— unlike Simon. His calloused hand rubs your thigh before drifting up to the hem of your blouse, carefully pushing it up and removing it with your help.
“Pretty girl.” His back bends slightly as his gentle lips now go to your bare stomach, planting a rapid-fire of kisses all over the soft skin, descending with each passing second, lifting your skin up to reveal your clothed cunt.
“I'll take care of you.” And he means every single word. Captain Price is a bad man, a bad man with a high kill-count and multiple war crimes to his name, yet John Price is a different story— caring and loving, so willing to fix something he didn't even break.
His eyes close the moment his lips connect to your mound, tongue darting out to get a taste at all he's been craving the moment he saw you. He lets out a small groan as the taste of your slickness overwhelms his senses, his hands roaming up and down your waist, daring to sneak past your bra, finally getting a good feel at your tits.
John is a starved man. A starved man whose only salvation is you, looking so pretty and sweet, panties wet with a mix of his saliva and your own slick. He's careful and gentle, pulling down your panties with both hands and dropping them on the floor, his breath catching in his throat when his gaze drifts down to your pussy, glistening under the light of your bedroom.
He doesn't waste any time, lowering himself again between your legs, licking a trail from your tight hole, to your swollen clit. Your legs try to close out of instinct, a whiny moan making its way out of your lips at the sensation of his beard against your cunt.
“Open your legs, love.” He whispered, running his thumb over your hard bud.
“Let daddy taste you.” He kisses your inner thigh before diving back in, licking and sucking on your clit, trying his best to make you feel good. Your moans are too pretty, your cunt too sweet, and Price can feel himself starting to lose control. His cock throbbed, his own desire growing stronger by the second, focusing solely on your pleasure.
“That's my good girl.” He whispered against your skin, sliding two thick fingers inside you. You're soaking wet yet still so tight, only making his desire grow, desperately needing to be inside you. Your whiny moans fuel him, his warm tongue flickering against your hardened clit faster and faster, mixing in with his sucking, his thick fingers curling inside your needy cunt.
Your hands run through his short hair, pulling at it softly to release some of the pleasure building in, the familiar knot in your stomach tightening up with each lick. Your chest rises up and down with each long, labored breath, muscles tensing up as the knot in your stomach finally comes undone, pushing his face closer to your cunt as his fingers move in and out, dragging out your orgasm.
He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, his blue eyes connecting with yours as he licks his fingers clean from your cum, your heart thudding loudly inside your chest.
“Fuck me.” That breathy whisper was all he needed, getting up only to slip out of his pants and boxers, his dick standing proudly. Despite being uncircumcised, you can see his dark pink tip, leaking precum like a broken faucet. Now that he's standing, he takes his time to admire your bare body, his blue eyes going to your tits when you take off your bra.
“Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?” The option is always there, and he wants you to know. His knees sink into the mattress as he supports his body on top of yours with one hand, lining his hard cock with your entrance, pausing for a moment.
“Let me love you.” He whispered hoarsely, slipping into you gently despite his primal instincts telling him otherwise. He lets out a loud groan the moment your tight walls grip his throbbing cock, his face finding shelter on the crook of your neck. A small hiss makes its way out of your lips as your legs wrap on his hips, pushing him closer and deeper, allowing him to finally bottom out.
“Bloody hell— you're so tight.” He moans out, his thrusts growing faster as you get used to his thickness. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with desire and adoration, longing dancing within. John's lips part as he feels your long nails dragging down his back, driving him crazy with pure need.
“I'm close.” He whispers out, his hips ramming against you with increasing urgency, reaching out to caress one of your soft tits. He plants open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, his breath warm against your sweaty skin.
“Cum inside.” John's eyes widen at your words, his dominant nature taking over as his hands go down to grip your hips firmly in place, the overwhelming desire and pleasure clouding his judgement, drowning out any concerns. His thrusts are deep and powerful, making you his with an unyielding force.
As he loses himself in the heat of the moment, John's muscles tense up, the familiar feeling of pure heat pooling up within him, slamming himself as deep inside you as he can before his cock starts throbbing, shooting ropes of cum with each pulse. His breath is heavy as he slowly pulls out of you, his gaze fixated on the mess of mixed fluids that coats your pretty cunt.
“My pretty girl.” He whispers out, burly arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer to his hairy chest, allowing you to hear his fast-beating heart. His lips are gentle against your forehead, wanting nothing more than to relax with you after the intense love-making. His actions are nothing short of genuinely caring and loving, wanting to give you good aftercare, all thoughts of Simon finally out of your head.
“Want me to run you a bath?” Price asks in a whisper, planting one last kiss on your forehead before looking down, just to see your chest moving up and down slowly, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, pulling you closer to his warm, naked body so you can sleep better, deciding to get some well-deserved rest as well.
The smell of eggs and tea is what you woke up to in the morning, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. The feeling of large fabric keeping your body warm makes you look down, just realizing that John put his large shirt on your body when you were sleeping, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you get up from bed, making your way to the kitchen.
“Good mornin'.” John turns around for a second, blue eyes lighting up when he's greeted by a big smile and his shirt dwarfing your body, giving you a small wink before he's back to finishing your breakfast. You take your time to admire him, so naturally handsome and masculine, his hairy, strong body only having his boxers on.
“Thanks, daddy.” You quip teasingly as he hands you the plate, a small squeal leaving your lips when he starts to chase you around the house, shared laughs ringing around.
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Dating John is a sheer contrast to any expectations you had when you first got into the relationship. Despite the fact that he's often away during missions, he has scheduled delivers for flowers and your favorite foods, calling with you the moment he's available.
“What are you doin'?” Price asks with a small smirk, his gaze softening the moment his eyes meet yours, your cheek resting on his strong thigh while he was trying to complete a report. His hand goes to your head out of pure muscle memory, giving your scalp a soft massage.
“I like you from this angle.” He lets out a small chuckle, moving his leg to make your position more comfortable as you nuzzle his leg, your chin now resting on it as you adjust your knees on the floor.
“You like me in every angle.” A grin spreads on his face, his calloused hand running down the length of your hair before resting on your back, massaging the muscles tenderly.
“True, but specially from this one.” The cheeky smile you throw his way does nothing other than to distract him further from his report of the latest mission, cupping your cheek to examine your pretty features better under the light of the room, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.
“You're clingier than my shadow.” He teases, leaning forward until his lips meet yours in an affectionate kiss, not bothered by your clinginess in the slightest. He breaks away just to give your forehead a tender kiss, staring down at you lovingly. The look of pure trust and love your eyes hold drags him back to one of the many late night conversations with Simon back at base.
“Y'like her?” Simon finally dares to ask, ignoring the growing pain on his lower stomach at the idea of you dating John, even if it was Simon's idea.
“Do you?” Price quips, already knowing the reply. There's been more than one occasion where he saw Simon stare at your WhatsApp profile picture, even if your number was deleted— he still keeps your messages, using it as an odd way of finding comfort despite the growing self-loathing from hurting you.
“You know I don't do that.” There's hints of regret spilling along Simon's deep voice, his bare fingers drumming on the cup of tea on his hand.
“Do what?” He already knows the answer, and yet.
“Love. 'M gonna get the poor girl killed.” Memories of Christmas haunt him even years later, his mind momentarily taken back to coming home just to find his entire family dead. All that blood, yet all his shattered mind was able to do was laugh even as he held a gun to his mouth.
“She'll be fine, Simon. The girl knows how to handle herself. Hell, I'm getting her a better security system soon, too.” Despite being in a committed relationship with you, John knows Simon well enough to know he still likes you, in his own way. He's seen Simon break down, seen the worst and the best of him, and eventually got to see the way he built himself back up, coming back to the SAS as Ghost.
“Wha'? You want me to date her, too?” Even if he asked it as a joke, Price's silence and the subtle shrug of his shoulders speaks louder than words.
“I know what you've been through, son. Think about it, you mean a lot to the bird.” John empties the rest of his tea down the sink, giving Simon one last pat on the shoulder before walking out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
“I'll go get it.” John is brought back to reality with the soft knocks on the entrance door, tilting his head up as you plant a kiss on his cheek. You make your way up to the door, your heart beating inside your chest when you look through the peephole, a familiar pair of dead brown eyes staring back. There's slight hesitation as your hand goes to the doorknob, resting there for a few seconds before you decide to open the door.
“Simon?” Despite the dark hoodie over his head, you can tell he hasn't been doing well, his skin looking more pale than usual, dark eyebags making him resemble more a raccoon than a man.
“'M sorry.” He mutters, hands deep inside the pockets of his jacket, lowering his gaze with nothing but pure shame.
“That's it?” Your guarded tone makes a part of him feel proud that you're not a doormat anymore.
“No. I'm sorry for… ignoring you, and for being a cunt.” His gaze finally meets yours. You can see the shame, the regret, and the pain.
“I was scared.” I wish I could tell you I survive out there because I don't want to leave you yet. Your lips part, though you decide to be quiet for now.
“I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell you why this shite happened.” Despite the way his hands are fidgeting inside his pockets, he's trying his best to be as honest as possible while avoiding dumping his trauma on you.
“That's bollocks, mate.” Price's voice almost scares the soul out of you, turning around to shoot him an exasperated look. For a man his size, he moves with surprising quietness. You can feel his burly arms wrap around your lower body, bringing you closer to him.
“Give 'er a proper apology.” Despite the hesitation Simon feels, the space Price left open for him is all he needs. You can feel another pair of arms wrapping around your body, the familiar scent of cheap fags and gun powder hitting your nose, bringing you back to all those nights you shared.
It's an awkward hug, a mess of limbs and warmth that you finally decide to take in, your arms wrapping around Simon's narrow waist, bringing his body closer to you despite the way his muscles tense up at the sudden contact. You can feel him relax with your touch, his cheek resting against the top of your head.
“'M sorry.” He repeats in a whisper, his cold face finding shelter on the warm crook of your neck, the urge to kiss you again growing stronger by the second, though he remains respectful. You can feel John's cock starting to harden against your ass, making you look up and give him a confused look. His hand goes up to grip your jaw softly, his lips crashing against yours as he starts to subtly grind against you, only making the confusion grow.
Simon's hold on your body tightens, the familiar sensation of his lips against your neck drags a small moan out of you, muffled in John's mouth. His tongue wraps around yours, your breathing growing more labored by the second, soft hands curling on Simon's muscular back, barely able to hear the door closing until you decide to break away from the kisses.
“What's going on?” The nervous laugh that leaves your lips is only met by a reassuring look coming from Price, his calloused hand running up and down your side.
“Part o' the apology you deserve, love.” You don't even have time to answer— not when Simon's rough lips meet yours, the kiss nothing but a pure display of love and affection. Even a ghost can be a lovely thing when you want it to be.
You can feel John's calloused hands drift down to the pajama shorts you're wearing, sneaking a few squeezes on your ass before his hand sneaks past your panties, using two of his fingers to feel your wet cunt, spreading your slick all over. His lips are now busy on your pretty neck, licking and sucking freely, not caring about any love bites he leaves— he knows you don't mind either.
You can hear his hard breathing against your tender skin, your tongue dancing with Simon's, hands desperately sneaking under his shirt, groping his hard, defined muscles. You can feel the bulging scar on his ribs, caressing it with extra care just to show him every single part of his heavily scarred body is loved.
“I missed you.” Simon breaks away from the kiss only to whisper that in your ear, his rough hand already going up to your tit, squeezing the soft fat while all you can do is moan, the combined sensations of the strong men touching you does nothing but drive you closer to the edge, your wet walls tightening around John's fingers, forcing you to squeeze Simon's bicep to release some of the tension.
“Fuck, daddy—” Simon's breath hitches at your words despite knowing you're talking to John, his own cock throbbing at the slight whine in your tone. His hands go to your waist, holding you up as your eyes finally shut, your forehead resting on Simon's chest as John's fingers move faster and deeper inside you, lazily rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your knees start to buck, more whiny and louder moans leaving your lips as you cum all over his fingers, nails digging into Simon's arm.
“That's a good girl.” Price praises in a breathy whisper, delicately pulling his fingers out of your pulsating cunt, taking a second to admire the way his fingers glisten with your slick.
“Taste her.” Simon is a man with no shame. No shame at all, making eye contact with you as he starts to suck his captain's fingers, putting them in his mouth just to taste more of your sweet slick. The hungry wolf is reduced to a starving dog, a small groan leaving his lips the moment your taste is all over his tongue.
He pulls John's fingers out of his mouth once he finishes licking them clean, your mouth opening ajar when Simon's lips crash against his, your heart beating loudly inside your chest as you watch them kiss. You can see their tongues dancing together, sharing your sweet taste in a passionate kiss, Simon's grip tightening around your waist.
They break away after a few seconds, looking up just to be met by Simon's cheeky smirk. He pushes you further into the house, fingers intertwining with yours as he walks into the bedroom like he owns the place, yet in reality, it's simply something he's done way more times than he can count.
“Pretty fuckin' girl.” His hold is all but gentle as he lays down in bed, pulling you on his lap, allowing you to feel the way his hard cock bulges on his jeans, calloused hands going to your ass to make you grind against him, whiny moans leaving your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt.
You can hear a zipper going down behind you, only making the excitement grow at the idea of seeing your boyfriend's bare body again— no matter how many times you've seen it already. Price's knees sink on the mattress, burly arms wrapping around your waist, grabbing one of your hands just to guide it to his hard cock. Your hands wrap around it, starting to rub him up and down slowly until his fingers join yours, speeding up the movement.
“Tell me you wanna fuck him.” His voice is a whispered command, a dominance you've never heard before— and one Simon has heard too many times during missions.
“I wanna fuck Simon.” You confess, your back pressing against John's strong, hairy chest as you jack him off, your soft palm rubbing against his sensitive tip, dragging a small grunt out of him as you smear his precum all over his throbbing cock. His free hand goes to your back, pushing you down against Simon as you let go of his cock with a small whine of protest.
Simon is desperate and needy— that much you can tell by the way he removes his clothes with an eagerness you've never seen before. You take your time to admire his strong body, pale skin tattered by scars, yet looking so alluring. You adjust your position as he tries to remove his pants, exchanging a small laugh at the awkward position you're in.
He looks more relaxed and honest than you've ever seen, his eyes crinkling as you're getting your shorts and panties pulled down by Price, finally resting your naked body on top of his. It's a new change of pace for both of you— Simon doesn't like to give up control, doesn't enjoy being dominated, it's too personal and vulnerable, yet for you? He's willing to try anything.
“Show him how you much you missed him.” John's soft command makes you nod your head, looking over your shoulder just to feel his lips against your back, his hand coming up to your jaw to turn your face back to Simon. Simon's calloused hand goes down to his throbbing, veiny cock, waiting until you lift your hips up to line himself up to your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as your tight walls wrap around him, your back arching once he bottoms out.
“Fuck, Simon…” Your face rests against the crook of his neck, planting kisses all over his warm skin as he starts to fuck into you, the wet sounds of your sopping cunt and needy moans filling the room.
Simon's eyes are closed, fully taking in the sensation of finally having your naked body on his after so many months apart. His hands explore your body with familiarity, bringing one of your hands up to his face to make you cup his cheek, gentle kisses planted over and over on your thumb.
You're too far gone to notice John coming up from behind you, keeping you against Simon's body while his free hand rubs the lube all over his veiny cock, a small smirk pulling on the corners of his lips at how much you're both enjoying each other. You're dragged back to reality when you feel his tip pressing against your tight cunt, already full with Simon's cock.
“It's not going to—” Price pacifies you with another kiss on your bare, sweaty back, slowly pushing in.
“I'll make it fit.” He reassures, a deep moan leaving his lips once he manages to slip his thick tip inside you, giving you time to adjust to the sensation before slowly pushing the rest of his cock inside you, pausing once he bottoms out to give you a well-deserved break.
“Fuckin' hell.” Simon groans out, his face scrunching up at how much tighter your cunt feels now that you have two cocks inside you. His short nails lightly dig into your skin, already feeling so close to the edge despite the fact you're just getting started.
You let out a short exhale once they both start moving, cocks rubbing together inside your tight walls, the sensation of being stretched this much starting to feel better by the second, every single nerve inside your cunt being stimulated. You pull Simon for another kiss, feeling his hand coming up to the back of your head just to pull you closer, wanting to feel more of your tiny tongue licking his.
You're a mess of limbs— sweaty bodies colliding, feeling their muscles tightening up around your soft, smaller body. Simon's moans are muffled by your lips, not letting you pull away from the kiss in slight embarrassment at letting you hear the neediness seeping out of his tone.
Their hips move in a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, forcing your back to arch, only giving them a better angle to fuck into you. Price's hands go up to your soft tits, squeezing and groping as he moves faster and deeper inside you, his breath hot against your ear.
“I'm… I'm gonna cum.” You manage to whisper between moans, muffled once again by Simon's rough lips. The overwhelming sensations build within you, the familiar sensation of your muscles tensing up and fingers tingling starts to grow stronger by the second, the intensity of your connection with both men driving you over the edge.
The sensation of one of their cocks hitting your cervix over and over makes you whine softly, muscles tensing up as they sandwich your bodies between them, finally letting go, your orgasm washing over you as your walls wrap tighter around their cocks, your fingers digging into Simon's skin. It doesn't take long for them to follow after you, fucking into you as deep as they can as they release a thick load into you, cocks pulsating with each rope they shoot.
They remain buried inside you for a moment, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths. Price is the first one to pull out, watching as their combined cum seeps out of your spent pussy before he lays down next to Simon, your warm body being pulled to the side as Simon lays on his side, his cock still buried inside you even while he's softening.
“I love you.” He finally confesses, tired eyes meeting yours for a second before shutting again as Price embraces you from behind. Your leg is resting over Simon's body, making the position a lot more comfortable as you bring his face closer to your chest.
“I love you too. Both of you.” You whisper, tiredness slowly taking over your body, not even realizing that Simon is already asleep, his face buried on your soft tits. Price lets out a small chuckle, planting gentle kisses all over your warm back, his hands lightly gripping your stomach as a way to let you know he loves you, too.
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whereisloe · 6 months ago
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my angel ໒꒱
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“come from way above” ❀ sevika x reader 𓆝. 𓆟
Got this idea while writing a Silco fic and realized not enough people are writing for this fine ass woman OHMYGOF
I miss my wife, tails. i miss her a lot.
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“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” you’d ask as you treated Sevika’s wound, carefully watching every faint expression on her face as you did so. She only grunted in response before letting her head fall into her hand. Considering the positions you both assumed, the woman had been towering over you as you sat comfortably between her legs dressing her abdominal wound. “Aaw , we’re almost done. Just keep being good for me, yeah?” You’d tease with a passive pat to her thigh as you prepped yourself to wrap her waist.
“Shut up” She’d force through a wince as you applied pressure to the deep cut, wrapping it as you did so. “You talk too much”
Once you finished the wrap your hands were quick to roam. Snaking up her chest, and latching onto her neck as you pulled your lips onto her jaw. “Keep getting hurt like this and I might just have to give Silco a little visit for all the trouble he keeps putting you through” Sevika scoffed, half-amused at your wit as she leaned back into the chair. “That man would eat you alive, sweetheart” The petname came off more condescending than endearing as Sevika undermined your words, even brushing off the genuine concern behind the joke with a bittersweet smirk.
“Oh, you promise?” Now it was your turn to laugh as you watched that smirk wipe clean off her face when her expression grew darker. You ignored her very obvious mood change and continued cleaning up your gear. “Y’know, maybe I could get you that pay raise. What do you think?” You’d stand from your crouched position and slowly spin around, flaunting your body at the woman. You even grabbed her rugged hand and bring it to your hip as you knelt into the seat of the chair that had been exposed between her legs.
“Hilarious.” She wouldn’t even half mind you as her hand quickly replaced your hip with a cigar. You rolled your eyes at her passiveness before returning to the ground to clean up your mess. At some point you even walked away allowing Sevika to smoke in peace as you cleaned your equipment.
Once you reentered the room, you’d find Sevika casually reclined on your couch with an unlit cigar still hanging out the side of her mouth. As you got closer her eyes locked on to you, roaming you up and down but once they reached your face, they softened. Just two gentle, big eyes admiring from a distance as you admired back. You were snapped out of your trance when she threw a lighter at you. You caught the metal with ease and examined it. “You forgot to light me” She said plainly, attempting to hide the sentiment she held toward the action. It was reminiscent of the first time the two of you met outside a brothel. Long story short, Sevika was quick to describe you as a huge distraction to her mission that day despite your short interaction that even you barely remembered.
“How cruel of me” You knelt down in front of the couch, now back to admiring your partner from below as her half lidded eyes met your wide ones. Her hand, rough as it was, gently held your cheek as her thumb brushed over your bottom lip. You felt yourself melt into her warm palm as the contrast between her calloused hand and your plush skin sent chills down your skin. You sparked the lighter twice before bringing it to the end of Sevika’s cigar.
She watched you. Allowing the flame to illuminate your soft expressions, and in her eyes, manipulating your features. Making you resemble yourself that night many years ago. She wasn’t any less taken by your more aged features if anything she appreciated them. Glad to see you grow older alongside her than having to admire your beauty from an ageless photo. You would notice her unwavering stare once you tossed the lighter aside and decided to make brief conversation. “You know, I don’t remember much of the first time we met” Sevika took a puff of her cigar before nodding urging you to continue. “But I remember without a doubt the second time”
“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t” She chuckled under her breath as the memories came flooding in. You took note of her already flaking cigar as she held it between her two fingers. Quickly, you placed your ceramic tray gently to her stomach just in time to catch the ash. “That guy had a lot of nerve putting his hands on you, you’re lucky I was there. Otherwise, who knows the things he would’ve did—” Sevika cursed at the thought.
“Well, you were there and I am forever grateful for you,” your voice was low as you rub senseless shapes across her wrist with the pad of your thumb. “my angel” the words were hushed as you kissed the base of her palm, then her wrist, down her arm, and back up her shoulder until you reached her nape where you took a moment. In this time, you pushed yourself onto her, feeling her shift to a more seated position to accommodate for you, you straddle her hips as you tossed your arms carelessly over her shoulders. The ceramic tray had fallen out from under you meeting the concrete with a shattering sound as the shards dispersed. “Damn it” You sighed as you began shifting away from your partner only for her to rest a heavy hand on your waist.
“I’ll clean it, later” Sevika gently guided you back into herself only to latch onto your neck. A shaky breath left your agape lips as you laid helplessly above Sevika. The heat in your cheeks only spread as she shamelessly left those sticky love bites all over your neck.
The sounds that fell from your lips only further egged her on as she found herself getting lower and her hand higher as it slid up your stomach. Eventually, you grew fed up with her slow teasing and brought your fingertips to the seams of your shirt and watched as Sevika’s gaze grew harsh with anticipation. You were ready to lift the cloth but quickly felt your blood run cold as three heavy knocked fell against your front door. You practically jumped out your skin as Sevika scowled at the source of the noise. “Fuck, I’ll get it” You held a hand over your heart as your slowly opened the door, meeting the eyes of a man who seemed to be one of Silco’s goons.
“Sevika, boss needs ya” The man completely disregarded you. You huffed under your breath and glanced up noticing how she was already behind you, prying the door further open. “Gotchu, now get the hell out of here before somebody sees you” Sevika’s voice was cold and harsh as she talked with the man, her tone almost foreign to you as you waited behind the door for Sevika to finish. Once she did, the door was shut with a frustrated grunt as she leant up against the door contemplating her next move.
“You need me to kill him?” From behind, you brought both your arms around her, pressing your face against her shoulder, you felt her laugh. “I’m sure you could.” She turned around and pressed a brief kiss to your temple. “Drinks on me next date to make up for this”
“Drinks are always on you” Your thumbs rubbed anxiously against her waist as you become increasingly aware of how much you hated when she left.
“Guess I need to stop fucking up, then” She gave your cheek on last stroke before turning to leave only to be stopped when you grabbed her mech hand. “You’re off to a bad start if you’re just gonna leave like that” You pulled yourself into her chest, standing on your toes as your lips locked with hers. Moving in tandem, Sevika fell against the door as you cupped her face in your palms and grew warm as her hand fell on the small of your back. Toward the end of your kiss you felt that warm, genuine smile of hers form against your lips as you fell back onto your heels.
“Be sure to fly back home to me, my angel”
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god punishes me by making my wives fictional :( also have yall read that hexstrap fic??? sevika please just the tip 🙏😩
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cumironi · 5 months ago
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GOJO : NOWHERE TO BE FOUND! s. geto
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☆ sum. is it acceptable to geto when you have him all to yourself but still moping around for gojo who’s away for a mission? absolutely not. but. . . is it acceptable for him to remind you who you are with? absolutely yes. so yeah, gojo is nowhere to be found, while geto? he is between your legs.
warning. established relationship au, poly relationships, pet names, praise, creampied, unprotected sēx, fluff, jealous geto, bear with me please :'), #longfic.
gojo’s version | request by anon.
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the morning light seeps through the open door, casting a soft glow around gojo as he stands in front of you, his figure backlit by the gentle sunrise. it almost gives him an ethereal quality, as if he’s already slipping away, and your heart tightens at the thought. the birds are chirping melodiously in the distance, a sound that would normally bring you peace. but today, their song seems too cheerful, a painful contrast to the ache settling in your chest.
you tighten your hold on gojo’s hands, your fingers clinging to his as if you could keep him here just a little longer. the pout on your lips deepens as you gaze up at him, eyes tracing every detail of his face, as though memorizing it for the days you’ll be apart. “how long will you be gone?” you ask quietly, voice laced with the sadness you’re trying to hold back, though it slips through in each word.
gojo’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though his usual playful spark is subdued. “just a week,” he murmurs, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze, his thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles. “it’ll fly by, you’ll see.”
“just a week?” you echo, your voice tinged with disbelief. “that’s easy for you to say. for me, it’ll feel like forever.” you give his hands another squeeze, refusing to let go, as if your grip alone could keep him from stepping through that door.
from your side, you hear an exasperated sigh, and you don’t even need to look to know that geto’s standing there, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and mild irritation. “you act like he’s going away for a year,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “it’s just a week, you’ll survive.”
you shoot him a quick glare, though it’s half-hearted, more a habit than anything, before turning back to gojo, who’s watching the exchange with a hint of amusement in his gaze. “ignore him,” you mumble, a slight whine in your tone. “i just... i don’t like when you’re gone, ’toru. it’s too quiet without you around.”
gojo can’t help but chuckle at your words, his heart warming at the way you look up at him with those pleading eyes and puffed up pout, as if trying to convince him not to leave for the mission— you almost did. “i’m sorry, my sweet,” he murmurs, voice soft and loving, “i wish i didn’t have to go, but you know how it is. duty calls.”
he gives your hands a light squeeze, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in a soothing gesture, trying to comfort you. “but hey, it’s just a week. i’ll be back before you know it.”
geto rolls his eyes at the tenderness in gojo’s voice, his arms remaining crossed as he leans against the doorframe. his expression is a mixture of irritation and mild jealousy. “you’re coddling her too much,” he mutters, a hint of disapproval in his tone. “you know how dramatic she gets every time you leave. and you’re just making it worse by babying her,” he continues.
gojo looks over at geto with a hint of annoyance in his eyes, his grip on your hands tightening ever so slightly. “i’m not coddling her,” he retorts, a slight bite in his tone. “i’m just trying to comfort her. she’s allowed to be upset, you know.” geto just snorts, shaking his head. “yeah, but she acts like you’re leaving for a year every time,” he says, still with that slightly jealous edge, sharp eyes but narrowing without a bite. “it’s ridiculous.”
you ignore geto’s grumbling, his words rolling right off your shoulders as you focus solely on gojo, gaze softening as you look up at him. his eyes, as blue as the sky just starting to lighten behind him, meet yours with that familiar warmth, and you feel your heart squeeze at the thought of him being away, even if just for a week. without another word, you slip your arms around his waist, pressing yourself against him, your cheek resting on the sturdy fabric of his jujutsu uniform.
“can i come with you?” you mumble softly, your voice carrying a hint of hope, though both of you know it’s impossible. there’s a gentle desperation in your words, like if you asked just right, maybe—just maybe—he’d take you along, and you wouldn’t have to spend the next seven days missing him.
gojo’s heart softens at the way you cling to him, and he gut-wrenchingly instinctive lifts his arms to wrap around you, holding you close against him. he looks down at you, a mix of love and guilt in his gaze. his hands run gently through your hair, touch gentle and soothing. “you know i’d love to have you by my side, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of apology, “but it’s too dangerous for you. i can’t take that risk. and i don’t think the higher-ups would like that very much.”
you huff against his chest, your pout only deepening as you snuggle closer, pressing your forehead into his shoulder, now. “well, maybe they need to lighten up,” you grumble, your voice muffled but clear enough to make him laugh again. his laughter vibrates through his chest, and you feel it resonate within you, easing some of the ache of separation you’re already feeling.
gojo can’t help but chuckle at your defiance, finding it endearing, even as he knows you’re just grumbling to get a reaction. he continues to thread his fingers through your hair, the other hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “they can be a bunch of hardasses, that’s for sure,” he agrees, a hint of amusement in his voice. “but still, i won’t risk your safety, love. i’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you. you know that.”
geto, still leaning against the doorframe, lets out an exaggerated sigh. “love,” he mimics, his voice tinged with mild disgust jealousy as he rolls his eyes, his irritation at the show of affection evident. “you’re nauseating,” he mutters, crossing his arms again, “can you both stop being so damn adorable? god, it’s too early for this.”
before you even get the chance to respond, geto’s hand is on your head, guiding you gently but firmly away from gojo. “alright, that’s enough of the mushy stuff,” he says, his tone carrying a hint of amusement despite his exaggerated annoyance. he pulls you to his side, keeping his hand on top of your head as if to hold you in place, and you can feel the warmth of his touch radiating through your hair.
“ijichi’s waiting,” he adds, his jaw cocks in the direction of the vehicle, and his expression is a blend of impatience and mild exasperation— the car parked a little way down the drive. “you want him to die of old age out there? you two can’t take all day saying goodbye.”
you pout, glancing back at gojo, but geto’s hand keeps you steady, grounding you by his side as he rolls his eyes. he doesn’t let go, his fingers giving a small, almost affectionate pat atop your head. “he’ll be fine,” he assures you, his voice softening ever so slightly, almost as if he’s trying to reassure himself as well.
as the car idles in the driveway, a mischievous glint in your eye despite the lingering sadness. “at least give me a kiss before you go,” you say, tilting your head up at the white-haired man, lips curving into a small pout. your tone is both a plea and a playful demand, as if challenging him to say no.
gojo looks at you with an expression that can only be described as smitten, and he steps closer to you, a fond smirk on his lips. “since you’re being soooo demanding,” he teases, his voice low and honey-sweet. he leans down, one hand coming up to cup your face, and he gently presses his lips against yours, his kiss both gentle and dawdling, as if he’s trying to capture the sweetness of your goodbye.
his other hand finds its way to your waist, gently pulling you closer, and for a brief second, it feels like time has stopped. his touch is soft and gentle but a silent reassurance, filled with a promise to come back to you. “happy now?” he whispers against your lips as he pulls away, his thumb brushing across your cheek. there’s a twinkle in his eye, as if he’s savoring the look on your face.
before you can respond, geto lets out an exaggerated groan from behind. “ugh, enough with the romance already,” he grumbles, though there’s a hint of amusement in his tone as he rolls his eyes. “we get it—you’re both madly in love.”
with a final glance at you, gojo laughs, shooting geto a smirk. “take care of her for me, alright?” he says, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “yeah, yeah,” geto sighs, grabbing you by the shoulders and gently steering you away from gojo. “now, get out of here before i have to witness another heartwarming moment.”
you can’t help but roll your eyes, even as geto holds you firmly by his side. “don’t act like you’re not gonna miss him too,” you tease, glancing up at him. geto scoffs, but there’s a soft smile playing at his lips. “just get inside,” he mutters, guiding you back into the house once gojo is gone, but his hold on you is gentle, as if he’s quietly reassuring you that he’s here, ready to keep you company until gojo returns.
as you make your way back into the house, geto keeps his hands on your shoulders, steering you away from the door and into the living room. a part of you wants to turn back, to catch one last glimpse of gojo before he leaves, but you resist the urge, knowing it would only make the parting more difficult.
he guides you to the sofa, gently pushing you down to sit, before taking a seat beside you. geto is characteristically quiet, his expression a mix of annoyance and... something else you can comfortably decipher— jealousy. the air in the room is heavy with an unspoken tension. geto is silently gazing into space, his thoughts seemingly far away. you glance at him, your gaze lingering on his profile.
the sunlight streaming through the windows casts a warm glow on his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the slight furrow of his brow. he’s always been handsome, you’ve known that from the day you met him, but in this light, he’s almost unfairly beautiful. after a brief pause, he finally speaks, his voice low and strangely serious. “you’re too clingy, y’know,” he mutters, not looking at you.
you pout, sink into the couch, letting out a sigh. “i just miss him,” you murmur, your voice a bit quieter, softer. “he’s been going on missions non-stop lately. it’s like the moment he’s back, they send him off again.”
your gaze drops to your hands resting in your lap, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your sleeve as you try to make sense of the mix of emotions welling up inside. the frustration, the loneliness, the worry—each time he leaves, it feels like a piece of you goes with him. you want him safe and sound here, not off somewhere you can’t reach him.
geto sighs, his annoyance melting into a softer, more understanding expression. he glances at you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, and he can almost feel your worry and frustration mirrored in his own heart.
“i know,” he murmurs, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “it sucks, huh? they treat him like he’s invincible, sending him on one mission after another. it’s like the higher-ups forget that he has someone waiting for him at home.”
the words hang in the air, lingering with an unwelcome sense of truth. you can hear the undercurrent of frustration and worry in geto’s voice, something he rarely allows himself to show. he looks at you, his gaze, drowning in nothing bot love for you. “he’ll come back,” he says firmly, as if trying to convince himself as much as you. “he’s gojo. you know he can take care of himself.”
the warmth of geto’s voice, with its steady reassurance, settles into your heart. but then he whispers, “come here,” his tone softer than before, and before you can process it, he pulls you into his arms, his embrace gentle but firm. he shifts, bringing you both down to lie on the couch, his arms circling you securely, as if protecting you from your own worry.
you let out a sigh, the tension slowly melting away as you rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. it’s calming, grounding, and in this quiet moment, it feels like everything might actually be okay. you wrap your arm around his waist, clinging to him as if he’s the anchor keeping you steady— like how he is.
the silence is filled only by the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear, strong and reassuring. he gently strokes your hair, his hand moving in slow, soothing motions, and you find yourself relaxing more with each breath. it’s not rare for him to show this side of himself, the part that isn’t just strength or sharp words, but softness and quiet care when it comes to you.
“he’ll come back, love,” geto murmurs again, his voice almost a whisper, a shape of promising for you and himself at the same time. “and until then… i’m here. so don’t worry so much.”
a faint smile tugs at your lips, and you nuzzle into his chest, letting his warmth surround you. “thank you, sugu’,” you say softly, your words muffled against him but carrying all the gratitude you feel. he doesn’t respond right away, but his arm tightens around you slightly, as if that’s answer enough.
geto holds you close, his fingers continuing to run through your hair, the motion soothing for both of you. he can feel your body relax in his arms, the tension slowly dissipating as you melt into him.
he takes a deep breath, still trying to control the swirl of emotions inside him. the words he wants to say linger on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows them back, keeping them locked away for now. “try to get back to sleep, love, it still morning,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “i’m not going anywhere.”
you don’t say a word, letting the warmth of his quiet presence surround you. instead, you shift slightly, reaching for his hand, your fingers finding his. without a second thought, you intertwine them, feeling the familiar strength and roughness of his hand against yours. it’s a simple gesture, but it carries all the things you’re too tired to put into words — the trust, the comfort, the gratitude.
geto’s fingers close around yours, and for a brief moment, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, as if to tell you he understands. his thumb brushes over your knuckles, a soft, grounding touch, and you feel a small part of the heaviness lift from your heart. you close your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his embrace calm the lingering worry.
he leans his head down, pressing a feather-light kiss to the top of your head, lips remain there as if to say, i’m here. “you are such a baby,” he teased, despite the jealousy burning inside his heart. geto tries to keep his voice light, the tease gently masking the more complicated feelings swirling beneath the surface. he feels the weight of your body against his, the way you cling to him, seeking comfort and reassurance. and as much as he tries to hide it, he revels in it, the feeling of having you close, needing him.
but there’s also a pang of jealousy gnawing at him still, a bitter taste in his mouth he tries to swallow back. he doesn’t want to think about gojo, about how he’s getting more of your affection than usual.
“always so needy,” he murmurs, his tone a mixture of fondness and annoyance, “and so clingy. can’t even handle a week alone.” he let out a soft huff at your clinginess, his eyes studying your face, the expression on your face so open, so at peace, that he can’t help feeling just the smallest twinge of possessiveness.
you’re his right now.
you tilt your head up to look at him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “oh, please, babe,” you whisper, the playful lilt in your voice matching his tease, “if it were you going on missions all the time, i’d be just as clingy. maybe even worse.” your words are light, but there’s a flicker of honesty in your gaze, and geto can see it, feel it in the way you hold him a little tighter.
for a moment, he doesn’t respond. his eyes search yours, and the soft teasing mask he usually wears slips, just a little. the warmth in his expression, mixed with something deeper, tells you he understands, even if he’d never admit to feeling the same. he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering there.
“oh, so you’re saying you’d actually miss me?” he murmurs, a hint of challenge in his tone, but there’s a gentleness there, too— an unspoken desire for that closeness, for you to need him the way you need gojo.
you roll your eyes, pretending to scoff as you press closer against him. “obviously,” you reply, your voice dropping to a whisper, “maybe i’d even be... clingy.” the word is playful, but it carries a certain weight, a confession you both understand without having to say it.
geto’s eyes darkened slightly as he feels your body pressing closer to his, your words sending a shiver down his spine. he can’t help the way his heart clenches, the pang of jealousy mixed with a desperate need for you to want him instead, to cling to him instead.
he lets out a scoff, his voice low and filled with a mixture of annoyance and desire. “clingy?” he repeats, “you are clingy. all the time. you just can’t seem to keep your hands off me.” he moves his hand, untangling it from yours to gently grab your chin, desperate for you to look up at him, for those eye-contact. his eyes are a hue of violet, almost intense, as they meet yours, a small smirk on his lips. “always all over me, like a little leech,” he continues, his words a mixture of teasing and honesty.
he studies your face, a mixture of irritation and affection in his dark eyes. “you’re always glued to me, sticking like a damn limpet. seems like you can’t even handle a few moments apart without clinging to someone.”
his tone is as sharp as ever, but there’s an edge of protectiveness that betrays his concern, his possessiveness, and geto, is for sure diving for validation from you. he keeps his hold on your chin, not willing to let you look away, not right now. “it’s annoying,” he mutters, the words not carrying the irritation they should, giving your chin a little squeeze.
you don’t bother with a reply, letting your actions speak louder than words. shifting even closer, you nuzzle against his chest, letting your nose brush against the soft fabric of his shirt. a quiet hum escapes you as you tangle your legs with his, wrapping yourself around him like he’s the only thing anchoring you. if he wanted to tease you for being clingy, you’d prove just how right he was.
your response, the way you cling to him with every fiber of your being, it’s both satisfying and frustrating. a deep, possessive part of him relishes in the way you’ve wrapped yourself around him; it’s exactly what he wants. but another part of him, the part that’s still struggling with jealousy, it’s a stark reminder of how he isn’t your first choice. gojo gets all your sweet words and loving gazes, while he’s left with the scraps of your affection.
a frustrated sigh escapes his lips.
geto’s hand is still on your chin, but his grip loosens slightly, as though taken off guard by how naturally you mold yourself to him. his gaze softens, the teasing sharpness in his eyes dimming just a bit as he takes in the sight of you — nestled against him, as if you truly can’t bear even the smallest distance between you. his fingers trace along your jaw, down to your shoulder, finally settling at the small of your back, holding you just as close.
a soft sigh slips from him, his hand firm and warm on your back, as if he’s accepted his role as your personal anchor, whether he likes it or not. he doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the subtle shift in his posture, the way he settles into the embrace, his other hand resting against your tangled legs, as though to keep you even closer— as if it’s even possible.
in the quiet of the moment, with your legs intertwined and your face nestled against him, you feel his heart beating steadily beneath your cheek. there’s no need for words; the tension fades, replaced by a silent understanding that neither of you wants to break this closeness. his hand resumes its gentle, absent-minded strokes along your back, a gesture both protective and tender.
“so much for needing space,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but there’s a hint of warmth behind it— a warmth that feels almost like an unspoken confession.
he continues to hold you, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly, as if he’s holding onto you tighter than before, desperate to became one. he can feel the warmth of your breath on his chest, the way your body presses against him, the way you’ve wrapped yourself around him like a clinging vine.
he can’t deny the way it makes him feel— the possessive need to keep you close, the satisfaction in knowing that you’re choosing him now, in this moment. he pushes the intrusive thoughts of gojo away, focusing only on the feeling of you against him.
geto’s grip tightens as he holds you close, feeling that satisfying warmth seep into his chest as you cling to him with every bit of yourself. there’s a certain possessive satisfaction in knowing you’re nestled against him so naturally, as if it’s where you belong. it’s exactly what he wants, and for a moment, he lets himself believe it’s all his.
but it wasn’t last long, few second of faith and the familiar ache starts creeping back in, that unshakable jealousy lurking beneath the surface. the reminder that, despite this closeness, he still isn’t the one who occupies your thoughts most of the time. gojo gets your smiles, your sweet glances, and sometimes it feels like he’s just here to fill the spaces left behind.
his hand on your back stills for a second as he tries to quell the frustration bubbling up within him. he lets out a soft sigh, his gaze softening as he takes in your peaceful expression against his chest. he’s just about to release that jealousy, to accept that maybe, just maybe, this moment could belong to him.
then, you speak.
“how long is ’toru’s flight?” your voice is soft, almost hesitant but still leak with the same longing, “do you think i can call him soon?”
your words cut through him sharper than he expects, and for a moment, he can’t mask the flash of hurt that crosses his face. he pulls back just enough to look at you, searching your expression for any sign that this is some sort of joke— but there’s only genuine curiosity in your eyes. it’s as though the thought of gojo is always there, lingering on the edge of your mind, even when you’re wrapped up in his arms.
“thinking about him again, huh?” he murmurs, a bitter edge sneaking into his voice. his hand loosens slightly on your back, his thumb tracing a faint, absent-minded pattern along your shoulder as he tries to keep himself composed when he nearly going spiral from the unbound jealousy. it’s a small gesture, but it betrays the tension he’s trying so hard to hide. “can’t go a moment without wondering about him?”
the words are quiet, almost more to himself than to you, as if he’s not sure he even wants an answer. he knows it’s unfair, knows he’s being unreasonable— but he can’t deny the sting, the way your question pulls him back to that reality where he’s still second in your heart even though it was all his insecurity.
he takes a steadying breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he speaks again, his tone softer this time, though there’s a faint trace of melancholy lingering beneath it. “gojo’s flight… should be landing in two hour or so,” he answers, finally looking down at you with a resigned smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “you’ll be able to talk to him soon enough.”
but even as he says it, his arms still slide back around you, holding you close with a renewed sense of determination. because if this is all he can have, if these fleeting moments are all that belong to him, then he’ll take them. his hand resumes its gentle strokes along your back, his touch firm and always tender, grounding himself in this closeness that he knows he’ll have to let go of eventually.
geto shifts on the couch, his movements slow and deliberate as he gently lays you down against the cushions. he hovers over you, one hand braced beside you, the other coming to rest softly against your cheek. his gaze is intense, filled with something raw and unspoken, and for a moment, he just looks at you, his thumb brushing tenderly over your skin.
“stop thinking about him,” he murmurs, his voice a low whisper, almost a plea. “i’m here. not satoru. right here, with you.”
the words are quiet, but there’s a weight to them, a vulnerability that he rarely lets show unless it’s needed— which is, often. his fingers trace along your jaw, grounding you in the moment, anchoring you to him alone. his eyes search yours, looking for any hint that you understand— that maybe, just this once, you’ll let go of gojo’s hold on your thoughts and give yourself completely to him.
“i need you to see me, too,” he continues, his tone softening, almost breaking. “just me.”
his hand slips to the small of your back for hundred times, pulling you closer, his face inches from yours as he holds your gaze. there’s something possessive in the way he looks at you, a quiet desperation mingling with the need in his eyes. he leans in, his lips ghosting over yours, barely touching as if he’s giving you the chance to close the distance— to show him that you want this, that you want him.
but instead, you hum softly, your fingers finding their way to his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw as you meet his gaze with a knowing smile. there’s a glimmer of playfulness in your eyes, and you can feel his breath hitch as you lean just a little closer.
“you’re always so jealous of satoru,” you tease, voice laced with gentle amusement, a slight tilt to your smile that says you know exactly what kind of effect you have on him.
a flicker of irritation flashes in his eyes, but it’s tempered by the warmth lingering there, an exasperation softened by how much he cares. his hand tightens on your waist, a gentle but firm reminder of his presence. he’s almost pouting now, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to find the words to deny it— but he doesn’t.
“you know,” he murmurs, voice low and almost a little sulky, “you make it really hard not to be.” his thumb brushes over your hip, his other hand cupping the side of your face, his touch, like a glue, stick around like he’s savoring every moment. “i just... i just want you to look at me that way too.”
there’s a softness now, a vulnerability barely hidden beneath the usual confidence. his fingers trail along your jaw, and his eyes search yours, almost pleading, even as his lips curl into a slight smirk. “but if you keep teasing me like that,” he whispers, leaning in until his lips are a breath away from yours, “i might just have to make sure you only think about me.”
“oh? promise, promise,” you teased.
geto lets out a scoff at your teasing tone, the sound caught between mockery and affection. he leans closer, his eyes darkening slightly as he meets your taunting expression, the hint of playfulness in your gaze only fuelling the possessive fire inside him.
“oh, you want me to promise?” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with a quiet challenge. “you want me to prove it?” his hand slides down to your waist, his grip firm as he pulls you closer, closing the distance between you. his lips graze yours, a tantalisingly whisper of a touch.
“you really think i won’t?” he murmurs against your lips, his hot breath sending a jolt of shudder in your being. “that i can’t make you forget about that idiot satoru?”
he gently pushes you deepened, back against the couch, leaning over you with a possessiveness that’s verging on territorial. his hand slides up your side, coming to rest just beneath your chin, tilting your face up towards him. his eyes burn with a quiet intensity, a mixture of irritation and desire.
“i can make you forget your own name, if i wanted,” he whispers, his thumb gently tracing your bottom lip, gently tracing the contour, his gaze locked on yours as if he’s memorizing every detail. his voice is low and rough, and there’s a possessive edge to it that makes your heart skip a beat.
“i could make you obsessed with me, if i tried hard enough,” he continues, his lips hovering a breath away from yours, like he is playing game who’s going to kiss first before move down to your neck, his body pressing against you in a way that feels almost predatory. “just you and me, all alone, no one else. i’m not like satoru, y’know,” he murmurs, “and i don’t want to be.” he leans in deeper, lips just barely grazing the skin of your neck. “i don’t want to share you, i don’t want to have to compete with him for your attention. i want you to be mine, and mine alone.”
he leans down deeper, his lips tracing a path along the length of your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses as he slowly descends. he finds that spot right behind your ear, the one that makes you shiver, and he lingers there for a moment, his tongue gently teasing the sensitive skin.
he nibbles softly, just enough to drive you wild before pulling back, a smug smirk on his lips as he returns his attention to your face. “you’ll have no choice but to think of me.”
a breathless sigh escapes you, fingers curling around his shoulder as he holds you beneath him, his lips still searing a path down your neck. every soft kiss, every teasing graze of his teeth against your skin, it all makes your chest feel tight, your heart pounding with the intensity of his touch.
“a little too late for that, don’t you think?” you whisper, voice barely above a murmur, eyes simmering with a playful, daring gleam. your words carry a note of surrender, as if admitting that he’s already woven himself too deeply into your thoughts, filling every corner of your mind in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying. he is already woven into something complicated, tangled up with you and gojo for years, making it impossible for him to truly claim you as his alone now.
a sharp pang of possessiveness jolts through geto as you whisper those words. he pauses in his trail of kisses, his breath warm against your skin as he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes are dark, almost possessive as he holds your gaze, a flicker of irritation and arousal swirling in his expression.
“too late, huh?” he murmurs back, his voice edged with a soft growl. “i don’t like that answer. doesn’t sound like you’re all mine, yet.” he leans in again, his lips meeting yours in a fierce kiss that’s all possession. he kisses you like he’s trying to prove something, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as his hands slide down to your hips, holding you still against the couch.
when he finally pulls back, his breath is coming in ragged gasps, his gaze still intense as he looks down at you. “i’ll make you mine,” he whispers against your mouth, his voice firm, almost a promise. “i’ll make you forget everything else. satoru, anyone else. just me.”
in split second, geto have you gasp as you’re suddenly straddling his lap, his lips capturing yours in a possessive kiss, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip for the second time. the intensity of his hold makes your breath hitch, but you quickly regain your composure. as he pulls back, you push his face away with a teasing smirk, eyes gleaming mischievously.
“again with your sadistic strike,” you murmur, voice light and playful despite the heat between you both. you tilt your head, amused by how easily he falls into this possessive role, your fingers lightly tracing along his jaw as you continue to tease him. “you’re really not giving up, are you?”
geto lets out a scoff as you push him away, a mix of irritation and desire flashing in his eyes as he looks up at you, straddling his lap. he can feel the heat between you, the way your body responds to his touch, and it only fuels the possessive fire within him.
“not giving up?” he repeats, his voice edged with a rough edge. “you’re damn right i’m not. you think i’m gonna just let you keep thinking about him when i’m right here?” he grips your hips a little harder, pulling you closer and grinding against you in a way that makes your breath hitch. he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he continues, his voice low and dangerous.
“i’ll do whatever it takes to make you forget about him. you’ll be screaming my name before the night is through, i promise you that.”
second thought is far away in the back of his head, and geto pulled his cock out from the sweatpants he wore— already hard and throbbing— pre-cum leaking from the swollen tip, red and angry, like how he is. his other neat-handed hand is lifting the only oversized t-shirt you’ve had wearing and your little lace panties filling his violet hue pupils. his index finger poking the fabric aside, and, in one push, his cock was already deep inside you.
a deep, rumble groans tears from his chest, having the raven-haired man throws his head back against the cushion while you gasp from the sudden feeling of fullness inside your cunt— both feeling like a cloud nine just drape its hands on you both, making cocoon of pleasure. your nails dig into his broad shoulders, clutching the fabric of his shirt.
geto’s hands grip your hips ever tightly, holding you still as he savors the feeling of being buried deep inside you. he can feel your walls clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to his size— every single fucking time. a low groan rumbles in his chest, his breathing heavy with barely restrained lust and flame of jealousy.
he tilts his head, looking up at you with those intense purple eyes, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “that’s it, take every inch of me,” he purrs, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “this is where you belong, wrapped around my cock like you were made for it.” one hand slides up your side, under the oversized shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your stomach and ribcage. his other hand remains firmly gripping your hip, keeping you impaled on his thick length.
you moan softly, your body relaxing the way geto’s hand glides over your skin, sending shivers down your spine like twinkling stars dancing around your skin. the sensation of being so deeply filled, stretched to your limits, is almost overwhelming. you bite your lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure that threaten to spill free.
you look down at geto, seeing the raw hunger in his gaze, and it sends a shiver down your spine. his words, laced with possessiveness and dominance, make your cunt throb around him. your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, tugging gently as you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. tongue tied, a heady mix of arousal and something uniquely geto. breaking the kiss, you nip at his bottom lip before whispering hotly in his ear, “don’t move yet, baby. let me feel you for a moment.”
a guttural growl escapes geto’s throat at your whispered command, his hips twitching involuntarily as he struggles to obey. unlike gojo, geto is a man of patience and a single words coming from you, he will bent down and fighting his will to do as you say— even when his cock buried deep inside your perfect, beautiful cunt he is nearly explode. he wants nothing more than to start thrusting into you, to claim you with every fiber of his being. but the need to please you, to surrender control to your whim, overrides his own desires.
“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his forehead pressing against yours as he tries to calm his racing heart. “you’re killing me, you know that?”
his hand tightens on your hip while the other grasps a fistful of your breast, the only part of him not trembling with restraint. he can feel the pulse of your heartbeat, the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, and it’s intoxicating, really. being still, being patient, feels foreign to him—but for you, he’d endure anything.
after what feels like an eternity, he manages a strained nod.
a sight of his struggle nod bring a satisfied smile curves your lips as you watch geto struggle to maintain his self-control, even if it’s clearly costing him. you press a gentle kiss to his temple, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath your lips. the tension in his body palpable. you can practically feel the heat radiating off him, the primal urge to claim you, to dominate and possess. it’s intoxicating, addicting knowing you have such power over him.
“good boy,” you praise softly, your voice dripping with affection. you lean in, nuzzling your nose against his, inhaling the scent of his skin, musky and masculine. “i love watching you try to rein it in,” you murmur, your voice husky with desire, “it’s so sexy, seeing you fight for control.”
geto’s chest rises and falls rapidly as he fights to maintain his composure, his body thrumming with pent-up energy. the praise from your lips sends a jolt straight to his cock, making it twitch within you. he grits his teeth, trying to focus on the sensations you’re evoking rather than giving in to the overwhelming impulse to move.
your hand trails down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, until you reach the hem of his shirt, tugging the material upward, a silent command to banish the material, exposing his toned torso to your appreciative gaze, and geto lets out a low hiss. his abs flex beneath your fingertips, the defined muscles a testament to his strength and dedication. he knows every dip and curve of your body, has worshipped them with his mouth and hands, and the knowledge fills him with pride.
“you’ve got no idea,” he rasps, his voice strained with effort, “how much i want to fuck you senseless right now.”
a pleased hum vibrates in your throat at geto’s admission, your fingers dancing across his exposed skin, tracing the lines of his muscles. you lean in, placing open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, tasting the salt of his sweat. the confession ignites a fire within you, your inner walls clenching around his thickness. “what’s with the rush?” you murmur, your voice a sultry purr, “we have all week for ourselves, no need to take things too fast.”
your fingers trace the lines of his chiseled abdomen, marveling at the sheer power coiled beneath his skin. you can feel the heat emanating from him, the raw energy simmering just below the surface. it’s exhilarating, knowing you have the power to unravel him completely. “let’s just enjoy this together,” you continue, hands roam lower, squeezing his muscular thighs as you grind against him, your clit kissing his pelvis. you nip at his neck, leaving a trail of love bites as you mark him as yours, tearing a low, animalistic groan rumbles in his chest, follow you. the air is thick with tension, the promise of unbridled passion hanging precariously balanced.
the possessive act sends a surge of heat straight to his groin, his balls drawing up tight. he can feel the coil of tension building within him, the warning signs of an impending release.
with that, you begin to slowly rock your hips, rolling them in a slow, sensual rhythm. each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, your inner walls fluttering around geto’s thick length. you keep your pace deliberate and controlled, not wanting to overwhelm him, but instead coaxing him deeper into the blissful haze of lust and possession.
geto’s entire body shudders at the first deliberate roll of your hips, his cock throbbing in response. the sensation of your slick heat enveloping him, combined with the erotic dance of your grinding, is nearly unbearable. he clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to buck wildly into you, to lose himself in the primal need to claim you utterly. “fuuuck, baby,” he gasps, his voice strained, “you’re going to be the death of me.”
----
your hips continue their languid undulations, each movement designed to tease and tantalize, to draw out the exquisite pleasure for both of you. you can feel geto’s resolve crumbling, his body tensing, straining for release. the thought sends a thrill through you, knowing you hold such power over him.
you lean back slightly, changing the angle of your connection, allowing geto's thick length to brush against your sensitive spots with each roll of your hips. a soft moan escapes your lips as the new position sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you. your fingers dig into the firm shoulder, urging him to meet your movements, to sink deeper into your welcoming heat. “fuuuck,” you whimper, your voice a husky whisper, “hold me, baby.”
geto’s arms wrap around you instinctively, pulling you flush against his heaving chest. he cradles you close, his large hands splayed across your back, fingers digging into the supple flesh. the intimate contact only fuels the growing urgency between you, his hardness pressing insistently against your softer curves.
geto meets each roll with a slow, deliberate thrust of his own, driving into you with measured strokes. his breath hitches in his throat, a low growl building in his chest as he loses himself in the rhythmic dance of pleasure.
“god, you feel incredible,” he pants against your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “so fucking perfect, so fucking beautiful.” his words are a heated promise, a vow to cherish and worship every inch of your body as he makes love to you.
a contented sigh escapes your lips as geto’s strong arms enfold you, holding you securely against his solid form. the feeling of being cherished, adored, and desired washes over you, filling you with a profound sense of belonging. you melt into his embrace, your body molding to his as if you were made to fit together perfectly.
geto’s deep, rumbling words send tingles down your spine, his praise and devotion igniting a fierce passion within you. you tilt your head back, offering your mouth to his, and he claims it in a searing kiss— it was intimate, warm and gentle. the taste of him, the feel of his tongue exploring your depths, sets your very soul ablaze.
breaking the kiss, you gaze up at him, your eyes shimmering with adoration and lust. “i love you, suguru,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, forehead bound against his.
geto’s eyes darken with emotion as he looks down at you, his face etched with tender adoration. a soft, choked sound escapes him, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, as he pulls you impossibly closer.
“i love you too, my beautiful girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sentiment. geto’s heart swells, his love for you burning brighter than ever before. he captures your lips once more, pouring all his devotion and longing into the passionate kiss. the kiss tender and loving, a sweet expression of the depth of his feelings for you. his tongue delves deeply, savoring the sweetness of your mouth as he loses himself in the tender intimacy of the moment.
as you break apart, geto gazes down at you with an expression of pure adoration, his purple eyes shimmering undeniable love and happiness. slowly, deliberately, geto begins to move within you again, his thrusts slower now, more measured, as if savoring every moment of your intimate connection. he rocks into you with a soothing rhythm, the subtle undulation of his hips sending waves of pleasure rippling through your core.
“we’re home, aren’t we?” he whispers against your lips, his breath mingling with yours. his hands slide down to cup your ass, kneading the supple flesh as he deepens the embrace.
tears prick at the corners of your eyes as geto professes his love, the sincerity and depth of his emotions overwhelming you. you cling to him, your fingers threading through his hair as you press your lips to his, relishing in the tender affection he pours into the kiss.
when you finally part, you rest your forehead against his, basking in the warmth of his presence, the comforting beat of his heart against your own. “yes, we’re home, we are always home,” you agree softly, a contented smile playing on your lips. “right here, with you.”
geto’s renewed lovemaking is a symphony of slow, sensual movements, each deliberate stroke stoking the flames of your desire. his heartbeat syncs with yours, a powerful drumbeat that resonates deep within your soul. he gazes at you with unabashed adoration, his purple eyes drinking in every detail of your radiant beauty— from the sparkling tears clinging to your lashes to the blissful curve of your lips. in this moment, he knows he would move heaven and earth to keep you safe, to make you happy.
you arch into him, meeting his thrusts with eager rolls of your hips, the friction sending sparks of pleasure dancing along your nerve endings, having geto’s breath catches in his throat. the way you welcome him, the eagerness with which you meet his thrusts, ignites a wildfire of passion within him. his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he loses himself in the erotic dance of your bodies.
“fucking perfection,” he groans, his voice raw with desire. his grip on your ass tightens as you meet his movements with equal fervor, his control wavering under the onslaught of your passion. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your mutual gasps and moans of pleasure.
he breaks the intimate seal of your foreheads, instead burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as he nips and kisses a trail down to your collarbone. geto’s hot breath fans over your sensitive skin, sending shivers coursing through you.
“mine,” he growls, the word a possessive declaration as he marks you with small, open-mouthed kisses. “all mine, forever and always.” geto’s hands roam your body, mapping the curves he knows so well, his touch reverent and hungry all at once.
your body trembles beneath geto's intense ministrations, every nip and kiss sending electric jolts straight to your core. the possessive growl vibrating against your skin, coupled with his fervent declarations, only serves to heighten your arousal. you feel owned, treasured, and utterly consumed by this man who holds your heart in the palm of his hand.
reaching up, you tangle your fingers in geto’s silky locks, guiding his head back to capture your lips in a searing kiss— his lips, oh, you could never have enough of his lips on yours. the clash of tongues, the battle for dominance, is a thrilling prelude to the explosive climax you both crave. breaking away, you pant heavily, your chest heaving against his. “i’m close,” you mumble, your voice husky with need.
geto’s eyes blaze with unbridled hunger as he watches you writhe on top of him, your desperate pleas music to his ears. he can feel your walls fluttering around him, tightening with each thrust, signaling your impending release. with a feral snarl, he redoubles his efforts, pounding into you with relentless ferocity.
his hands find purchase on your thighs, spreading them wider to accommodate his punishing pace. the lewd slap of flesh echoes through the room, a primal soundtrack to your frenzied coupling. geto’s breathing grows ragged, his vision tunneling until all he sees is you— your flushed cheeks, your pleading eyes, the exquisite contours of your body as it yields to his possession.
“you’re mine,” he rasps, his voice a guttural animalistic growl. “never forget it.” overwhelmed by the intensity of geto’s lovemaking, you can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. your mind goes blank, replaced by a haze of white-hot pleasure that consumes every fiber of your being. each brutal thrust sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, threatening to shatter you into a million pieces.
geto’s dominant claim, spoken with such raw, primal authority, snaps the last threads of your self-control. a scream rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your inner muscles clamping down on geto’s pulsing length in rhythmic spasms. stars burst and your head spinning, and you’re certain the room spins, but all you can focus on is the overwhelming sensation of release.
as the aftershocks ebb, you collapse against geto, your body limp and spent. your legs trembling on his lap. “fuuuck, i’m cumming,” and geto follows shortly after, letting out a guttural roar as your velvet walls milk him dry. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath puffing against your sweat-dampened skin as he fights to regain his composure.
panting heavily, geto refuse to extricates himself from your cunt, so instead he collapses onto his back on the couch pulling you into his arms. his touch gentle and tender, having you nestle into the comfort of his embrace, your body still humming with the afterglow of your shared passion. he nuzzles into your hair, savoring the intoxicating mix of your scent and the lingering traces of their shared passion.
“i love you so much,” he murmurs, his voice rough with satisfaction. the sound of his voice, hoarse and satisfied, rings like a soothing melody in your ears as he whispers those three words. geto peppers feather-light kisses across your forehead, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, each one a silent vow of eternal devotion.
gently, he strokes your hair, his fingers tangling in the silken strands as he holds you close. you bask in the soothing sensation of his fingers raking through your hair, each stroke a soft, intimate caress that ignites a wave of warmth and contentment within you. your chest heaves against his, breaths coming in short, laboured gasps as you both try to recover from the raw intensity of their passion.
you can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your hands, the way his body trembles slightly from the residue. “i love you, too,” you murmur back, your voice soft and reverent, barely above a whisper.
still joined together, geto’s arms wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you close as he shifts, finding more comfortable position against the couch and settling you on top of him. his embrace is steady, his touch lingering, as if he never wants to let go. you rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you, its warmth radiating through every inch of you.
he runs his hands slowly up and down your back, still covered with your shirt, tracing gentle, soothing patterns as he holds you close. the room is silent, save for the soft sounds of breath and the steady rhythm of geto’s heart beating beneath you. his fingers continue their tender journey across your back, tracing invisible patterns and sending warm shivers down your spine.
he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head, his arms holding you closer, a silent declaration of his unwavering love. you snuggle into his chest, your body perfectly molding into him as you bask in the comfort of his embrace.
geto’s hand pauses for a moment on your back, and a playful smirk tugs at his lips. he tilts his head down to look at you, his eyes gleaming with that familiar, mischievous spark. “think you’ve finally forgotten about satoru now?” he murmurs, his voice a soft tease as he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. his fingers resume their gentle path, tracing soothing patterns along your spine, as if grounding you in this moment with him.
before you can respond, he presses another kiss to your forehead, holding you even tighter. “good,” he whispers against your skin, “because i plan on making sure you don’t have a single thought left for anyone but me.”
you roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips as you lift your head to meet his gaze. “not yet,” you tease, voice laced with a playful challenge, sitting up abruptly before taking your shirt off— your breast on full display to your boyfriend’s eyes. a soft thud could be heard once the material landed somewhere.
geto lets out a low, appreciative whistle as you take off your shirt, his gaze darkening impossibly as he takes in the sight of your bare skin. he can’t help the way his eyes roam over your curves, a mixture of hunger and raw desire flashing across his face.
his hands slide to your hips, his touch firm and possessive as he pulls you closer, forcing you to straddle his waist. he leans back against the couch— prop his elbows, his expression intense, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and determination.
his lips part, breathing a wee bit heavy as he looks up at you through hooded eyes, “not yet, huh?” he echoed back to you, voice a little rougher than before, his gaze heated and intensely focused on your perky nipples, “oh, you’re not making this easy on me, you know, baby?” he growls, his voice a low, husky promise. the sound low and deep in his throat, as if he’s struggling to control himself.
a mischievous glint sparks in your eyes as you hum softly, trailing your hands down his bare chest, fingers tracing over the lines of his muscles with teasing slowness. “i thought you were going to make sure i forgot about ‘toru,” you murmur, voice laced with playful defiance. you tilt your head, meeting his darkened gaze with a smirk.
“because, honestly, right now…” you pause, leaning in closer, your lips a mere breath away from his. “my mind’s still pretty full of my beloved ‘toru, and he’s all i can think about,” you tease, each word a deliberate challenge.
geto’s grip on your hips tightens, his eyes narrowing as he lets out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound full of dark amusement. “is that so?” he mutters, his voice now a dangerously low whisper. “guess i’m not trying hard enough, then.” his hands slide up, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine, as his gaze turns sharp and possessive.
without warning, he pulls you even closer, his lips brushing over yours in a tantalizing, barely-there kiss. “let’s see if i can change that, hm?” he challenges, his eyes locked on yours with unwavering intensity, daring you to hold on to the thought of anyone else but him.
lifting you effortlessly off the couch and carrying you to the nearby window seat. they way he hold you, you can feel the possessive strength in his grip. the cool glass presses against your front as geto settles you onto the hard surface, his hard length still nestled inside you. the change in position allows him to delve even deeper, his pelvis grinding against yours as he starts to move once more.
geto buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he nips and licks at the delicate skin. “one way or another, you will forget satoru even exists for a whole fucking week, i’ll make sure of that,” he grumbles on your skin, hips one after another start to thrust into your cunt. big hand grip a fistful of your hair, face push to the hard surface while his other hand kissing your ass, harder each kiss. no gentleness, no tenderness like earlier, only a maddening, desperate thrust to drive his point dick to your brain.
and when geto says something, he means it.
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m4rv3l-girl · 6 months ago
Text
“You Made a List?” - (Knife Play)
Bucky x Y/N
Y/N made an interesting to-do list, Bucky wants to tick them all off..
Requests Open!
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Warnings: Smut. Knife play. Blood.
Bucky sat on the edge of his bed in the quiet apartment he shared with Y/N. The room was a stark contrast to his tumultuous past; white walls, a simple wooden bedframe, and a single framed picture of them together on a shelf. He stared at the floor, his mind racing with the day's events. He had been out on patrol, a routine mission that had ended with him saving a cat from a tree. A small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it brought him back to the comfort of their shared space.
Y/N walked in, her hair still damp from a recent shower, a towel wrapped around her body. She noticed the tension in Bucky's shoulders and the furrow in his brow. "Rough day?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress in the stillness.
Bucky looked up and offered a forced smile. "It's nothing," he said, not meeting her eyes. He didn't want to burden her with his past, not when they had worked so hard to build their life together. But she knew him too well.
She saw right through the facade and moved closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Her touch was electric, grounding him in the present. He took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of her hand seep into his skin. "I found something," he began, his voice low and tentative. He reached under the bed and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
Her eyes widened as she recognized her own handwriting. "Oh, that," she said, her cheeks flushing pink. "It's just a little list I made, you know, for fun." The words 'Things to try in the bedroom' were scribbled across the top in a playful scrawl.
“You made a list?” He mused. Scanning the items, his eyebrow raising at each suggestion. "Knife play," he read out loud, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. "That's the first one?"
Y/N looked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, it's not like we're going to try all of them in one go," she said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "I was just….curious"
Bucky's eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of doubt or fear. When he found none, only excitement and trust, he felt his own anxieties dissipate. He had faced worse than knives in his life; this was a game they could play together, safely. "Alright," he said, setting the list on the bed. "But I'm stopping if I think you don’t like it.."
Y/N leaned in, her damp hair leaving a trail of coolness against his cheek as she whispered, "You’ll do it?”
The air grew thick with anticipation as they prepared for their evening adventure. Bucky's heart raced in a way it hadn't in a long time, not from fear or battle, but from the thrill of exploring something new with the woman he loved. As they moved closer, the world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of their shared space and the promise of an exciting night ahead.
Bucky pulled out a velvet-covered box from his nightstand, Y/N’s cheeks still flushed. Inside was an impressive assortment of knives, each one meticulously chosen for their varying sizes and shapes. They were not the weapons of war he was accustomed to, but tools of passion - items he had collected for enjoyment not for use in combat.
He picked one out, the metal cool and smooth in his hand. The blade glinted under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement.
He turned to Y/N, who had dried off and donned a silk robe that clung to her curves. Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of hesitation. He gave her a reassuring nod, and she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she felt the tension in the room shift. He approached her, the knife held delicately between his thumb and forefinger.
Tracing the line of the knife along the edge of her jaw, he watched as her eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
His touch was feather-light, a stark contrast to the cold steel. He moved down her neck, the blade barely grazing her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Each stroke was precise, calculated, as if he were mapping out the landscape of her body with the sharp tip.
Her heart thumped in her chest, the rhythm echoing in her ears. She felt the warmth of his breath against her neck as he whispered, "You're sure?" Y/N nodded, the anticipation building like a crescendo. Bucky continued, the knife moving in a gentle pattern down her collarbone and over the swell of her breasts, her body responding to his every move with a symphony of goosebumps.
With the utmost care, he slipped the knife between her robe and her skin, the cold metal pressing against her hardening nipple, drawing out a soft whimper. He watched her closely, reading her reactions like a book.
When she didn’t flinch, he began to feel more at ease.
He knew he could trust her, and she knew she could trust him. They had been through so much together, and this was just another chapter in their story – one of exploration and growth.
He continued to trace her body with the knife, the sensation both thrilling and terrifying. But with each pass, the fear melted away, leaving only desire in its wake. The tension in the room was palpable, a living thing that coiled around them, tightening with every shallow breath she took.
Y/N’s eyes remained closed, lost in the sensation of Bucky’s gentle touch. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a dance of control and vulnerability that brought them closer together. The coolness of the metal was a stark contrast to the heat building between them, and she felt every inch of her skin come alive.
As the tip of the knife circled her navel, she gasped, the sensation shooting straight to her core.
Bucky paused, looking for her consent. She opened her eyes and met his gaze, nodding again. He continued, the knife gliding over her hips, her stomach, each movement a silent promise of what was to come.
When the tip of the metal finally slipped past her pubic bone, it grazed the sensitive peak of her clit, she inhaled sharply.
The feeling was indescribable, a mix of excitement and trepidation that had her body trembling. He watched her, his eyes dark with desire, as he began to carefully stroke her with the cold blade. The pressure was just right, not too much, but enough to send waves of pleasure rushing through her.
Her knees grew weak, and she reached out to grip the edge of the bed for support. Bucky noticed her reaction, his own arousal spiking at the sight of her vulnerability. He stroked her clit in a slow, deliberate motion, the knife serving as an extension of his touch. The metal was cold against her hot, wet skin, sending shivers through her body that only heightened her sensitivity.
"Sit still," he murmured, his voice gruff with need. "I don't want to hurt you."
Y/N whined softly, her body straining against the delicious torment he was inflicting. The combination of fear and pleasure was intoxicating, a heady cocktail that had her teetering on the edge. She knew Bucky would never harm her, but the thrill of the knife’s serrated edge up against her delicate flesh was undeniable.
Bucky watched her closely, his own need growing with each gasp she made. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, could see the way her nipples pebbled against the silk of her robe. He knew she was close, so he decided to give her what she wanted – a little more. He teased her clit with the blade, moving it in a slow, up and down motion that had her hips bucking and her breath coming in ragged pants.
Her eyes snapped open, and she met his gaze, pleading for more.
He could see the desire in her eyes, the impatience warring with the fear. With a smirk, he flipped the knife in his hand, the handle now pointing upward. He held it out to her, the metal slick with her arousal. "Suck it," he ordered, his voice low and firm.
Y/N took the handle into her mouth, her eyes never leaving his and she moaned around it as she took it deep. Her hands came up to wrap around his wrist, guiding him as she sucked and licked, her tongue swirling around the handle. Bucky's grip tightened, his own excitement growing as he felt her mouth enveloping the knife.
When he was satisfied with her preparation, he slowly removed the handle from her mouth and brought it back down to her clit, now slick with her juices and her own saliva. He teased her again, the wetness from her mouth adding to the sensitivity. She was panting now, her body begging for release.
"Bucky, please," she whimpered, her grip on the bed tightening.
With a wicked smile, he positioned the handle at her entrance, the metal cool and hard against her heat.
Y/N took a sharp breath as Bucky pushed the handle of the knife slowly inside her. It filled her in a way that was both strange and incredibly erotic. She felt stretched, the sensation of cold steel penetrating her, and she knew that he could feel her tightness around it.
Bucky's eyes never left hers as he began to move the handle in and out, his movements deliberate and controlled. The coldness of the metal was a stark contrast to the heat of their shared desire, and she could feel her body begin to adapt to the intrusion. It was a delicate dance of pain and pleasure, each thrust bringing her closer to the precipice she desperately sought.
Her breath grew ragged, her moans muffled by the fabric of her robe as she bit down on the material. She could feel the knot in her stomach loosening, the tension building as he fucked her with the handle. His hand was steady, his gaze intense, as if he was watching for any sign that she needed him to stop.
But she didn't.
Instead, she pushed back against him, her body begging for more.
The sound of the knife handle sliding in and out of her filled the room, a rhythmic counterpoint to their harsh breaths. Each thrust was a silent declaration of their love and trust, a testament to the bond they shared. Y/N could feel herself losing control, her hips moving in time with his hand, her body straining for release.
Bucky's eyes never left hers, his pupils dilated with desire. He watched her face contort in pleasure, the way her mouth opened in silent screams, and he knew she was close. He increased his pace, the slickness of her arousal making the handle glide in and out with ease.
She was so wet, so ready for him, and the thought sent a bolt of lust straight to his groin.
With a final, desperate thrust, she shattered around the handle, her orgasm ripping through her body like a supernova. Her nails dug into the bed, her back arched, and she cried out, her voice hoarse and raw. "Such a pretty slut, doll," Bucky murmured, his voice thick with approval. He watched her ride the wave, her body quivering with the aftershocks of pleasure.
Y/N's eyes flew open, meeting his gaze as she came down from her peak.
She felt a flush of pride at his words, her heart racing with a mix of love and lust. He had called her that before, but tonight, it felt different. It was as if he were praising her in the most erotic way for trusting him, for letting go of her inhibitions. She knew he meant it as a term of endearment, a declaration of his admiration for her openness.
Y/N nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement. "Yes, I want-…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "What do you want me to do?"
The words came out before she could even think them through. "Carve your initials into me," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "I want to carry a piece of you with me."
Bucky's eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of doubt.
When he found none, he took the knife in his hand, his movements deliberate and precise. He leaned over and kissed her softly, his breath mingling with hers. "Where?" he asked roughly, his voice thick with anticipation.
"My thigh," she murmured, pointing to the spot she had chosen. It was a place she could easily hide if needed, but also somewhere she could see every day, a constant reminder of this night.
With a deep breath and a moment of contemplation, Bucky took the knife and pressed the tip to her skin. “Tell me to stop, Doll.” He pleaded feeling a depraved arousal at this.
“Don’t you dare.” She stated.
She felt the pinprick of pain as the metal broke through the surface, a sharp contrast to the gentle kisses he peppered along her neck. He began to trace the first letter, the 'J', his hand steady despite the tremor that had taken hold of his body.
The cut of the knife peircing through her skin was faint but distinct, a testament to his skill and control.
The pain grew more intense as he moved on to the 'B', the sensation of the blade carving through her flesh sending another shockwave of pleasure through her.
She bit her lip, her eyes watering as she watched him, his focus unwavering. When he reached the 'B', she felt the sting of the blade a bit deeper, and she couldn't help but gasp.
Immediately, Bucky's mouth was on the wound, his tongue darting out to lick away the bead of blood that had formed. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure that sent her spiraling into another orgasm. In an unexpected throb of agony and ecstasy, her thigh muscle clenched repeatedly under his ministrations.
He kissed the spot tenderly, his eyes never leaving hers.
As the initials 'J.B.B' began to take shape on her skin, she felt a sense of belonging, a mark of ownership that she craved. She knew that she had just given him a piece of herself, and that he had accepted it, claimed it even, was intoxicating.
When he was done, he pulled away, his eyes searching hers for any signs of regret. But all he saw was a look of pure, unadulterated bliss. He couldn’t believe the trust she had in him, the willingness she had to submit to his desires.
It was a heady feeling, one that made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in a very long time.
They sat there for a moment, their bodies entwined, the room silent except for the sound of their ragged breaths. Then, Bucky leaned in and kissed her again, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her. This was their secret, their shared moment of power and passion, and it bound them together in a way that nothing else could.
The night was still young, and they a few long hours ahead of them. But for now, they basked in the afterglow of their first successful experiment, their hearts racing in sync, their bodies craving more. They were a team, united in their love and their desire to explore the boundaries of their relationship.
And as Bucky held her, feeling the pulse of her blood beneath his fingertips, he knew that no matter where the night took them, they would face it together, unshackled by fear or doubt. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.
——————————————————————————————————
Part 2 - (Temperature Play)
——————————————————————————————————So, what did you guys think? Your comments really help me to cater my writing to what you enjoy! 🫶
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llxferim · 7 months ago
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-"Choose" part 1
a/n: i had so much fun writing this oml, my wandanat obsession is getting out of hand. I'll post another fic today AND tomorrow :))
Part 2
REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Summary: When both Wanda and Natasha confess their feelings for you, you're torn between them. To make a choice, you decide to take each of them on a date. But it just leaves you even more uncertain than before. (Maybe part 1?)
Warnings: smut, 18+, no yn used, Wanda and nat are a tease, eventual smut, smut with plot. teasing, receiving oral (reader). fem!reader, flirting.
Word count: 5.6k (it's a big one so buckle up)
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"Both of them?" Kate asks, her eyes widening in surprise as she steadies her aim with the bow. The target looms in the distance, a stark contrast against the backdrop of the training room. "Seriously? You've got two Avengers interested in you?"
She hands the bow back to you, the weight of it bringing you crashing back to reality. Your mind is still reeling, trying to process everything that happened. It's been a week of absolute chaos-Wanda's unexpected confession adds another layer to the situation that began when Natasha, asked you out right before a mission. A few days went by and both of them were acting as if nothing happened, waiting for your response.
You can still picture Nat’s casual shrug before she leaped out the window as if confessing to someone and then diving into danger was just another Tuesday for her.
"I have no idea what to do," you admit.
You draw back the bowstring, feeling the tension build in your muscles. The arrow flies, hitting the target with a satisfying thud that echoes through the room. The sound mirrors the way your heart has been pounding ever since this whole situation began.
"Here you are," Kate says, her tone a blend of amusement and disbelief, "taking down supervillains, and saving the world- regularly might I add—, but two incredibly attractive, badass women liking you, is what you're worried about?" There's a teasing to her voice.
You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache forming as you sink back into your chair. The weight of the situation settles on your shoulders. "I know!" you exclaim, the words coming out in a rush. "It's ridiculous. I mean, I'm just... me. I never expected any of this. Not Natasha, not Wanda, not any of it."
"Listen," Kate says before She nocks another arrow, her movements fluid. The arrow whistles through the air, striking the target dead center before she retracts the bow with a satisfied smirk. "What if you just... see how both of them are on a date? You know, get to know them outside of all the world-saving and villain-fighting?"
"Like, go out with both of them?" you ask, your brow furrowing as you give her a skeptical look. "I don't want to two-time them, Kate. They deserve better than that." "No, no, " Kate shakes her head. "I'm not saying that. Just go on a single date with them, then decide." She shrugs, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes.
You stare at her for a long moment, letting the idea sink in. It's outrageous, just simply crazy, and yet... "That's... a terrible idea," you finally admit, heaving a deep sigh as you push yourself up from your chair. Your muscles protest, reminding you of the intense training session you've just been through.
"Rude!" Kate exclaims. "Hey, where are you going?" she calls out as you start to walk away, her voice a mix of curiosity and surprise.
"To go try your stupid idea," you mutter, making sure your voice is just loud enough for her to hear. Which earns you laughter from her. You can't help but wonder what you're getting yourself into.
**
A few days later, still somewhat in disbelief, you found yourself seated across from Wanda at a cozy café.
Just days ago, she had been hurling bad guys around with mere flicks of her fingers. Now, here she sat, looking utterly charming as she sipped coffee from a strawberry-shaped mug.
Cute.
You catch yourself stealing glances at her over the top of your menu. Wanda's striking scarlet hair falls loosely around her face, soft strands brushing against her cheeks, hiding those captivating green eyes, the ones that you wish were on you right now. You find yourself wanting to reach out, to gently tuck her strands back to reveal her face completely.
Just as the thought crosses your mind, Wanda's gaze flicks upward, locking onto yours. "Enjoying the view, darling?" she teases, her voice low and playful, with just a hint of her Sokovian accent.
Your heart rate instantly kicks up a notch, and you can feel warmth blooming across your cheeks. "what? Can I not admire my date?" you reply, aiming for a light tone but hearing the slight tremor in your voice.
"didn't say that" she responds, a sultry smile playing on her lips as she leans in slightly. The movement is subtle, but it closes the distance between you just enough to make your pulse quicken. "Admire as much as you want, darling. I assure you, I'm not going anywhere." The air between you seems to thicken, charged with an electric tension that makes you acutely aware of every small movement, every shared glance. You can't help but wonder how the evening might progress, how close you might find yourselves as the night wears on.
In an attempt to steady yourself, you take a long sip of your drink. The warmth of the coffee does little to calm the flutter in your stomach or slow your racing thoughts. "So," you begin, searching for a topic to keep the conversation flowing "what's been your favorite mission lately? Fury’s been giving us so many"
Wanda's lips curl into a smirk, her eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and something deeper, more intense. "Honestly?" she replies, her tone carrying a playful challenge. "I'd have to say it was the one where I got to swoop in and save your ass." You can't help but chuckle, "Oh, come on. I didn't need saving," you protest lightly. "I was handling it perfectly fine."
"Sure you were," Wanda laughs. Her entire face lights up with the smile, and you find it impossible to look away. "But I'm glad I could step in. It gave me an excuse to play the hero for you."
Almost unconsciously, you lean closer, drawn in by the magnetic pull between you. "What if." you begin, your voice dropping to a near-whisper, "I told you I rather like the idea of you swooping in to save me more often?"
Wanda's expression shifts subtly, her gaze dropping to your lips for a fleeting moment before meeting your eyes again. The look she gives you is charged with meaning. "I could arrange that," she murmurs, her voice taking on a softer, more intimate tone.
The world around you seems to fade into the background, the moment stretching out between you. The usual bustle of the cafe continues, but it feels distant and muted. All you can focus on is Wanda's way the soft lighting plays across her features, the subtle scent of her perfume, and the warmth radiating from her presence. Every tiny detail draws you in deeper.
"so" you suggest, "should we plan our next mission together?" unable to hide the grin forming on your lips.
Wanda raises an eyebrow, the playful glimmer returning. "I like the sound of that." she says with a little smirk "Just us, no distractions" Your heart rate raises at her words "Just don't be surprised if I need saving again" you tease back.
Wanda leans in closer, the distance between you shrinking to almost nothing. Her voice is barely above a whisper when she replies, "I wouldn't dream of it, darling."
**
You and Wanda walked back to Stark Tower as the night fell. Despite Fury's announcement about tomorrow, and how he would personally murder whoever was late to the meeting— Wanda was in no rush. She'd insisted on ice cream, so you both enjoyed the treat while strolling towards the building.
after arriving at the tower, you and Wanda finally reach the floor your room was on, “you sure you can find your way?” Wanda said playful smile on her lips.
“with a guide like you? I’d get lost on purpose” you respond with a smirk, matching her playful tone. Her eyes sparkle a little at that, looking you up and down.
Wanda laughed softly, pulling you back into the elevator and pressing the button for her floor.
“flattery won’t get you everywhere, you know” she chuckles slightly as she steps out of the elevator and leads the way while clutching your hand in hers.
“I mean—” you tease as if you weren’t the one getting flutters in your stomach after touching her hand “—it helps” You give her a slight smirk.
She stops in front of a door, her door. And leans against the wall next to it.
“so what’s your plan? Charm your way through the tower?” she raised an eyebrow, her lingering tone flowing through the empty hallway.
“only to the rooms that matter,” you say, taking a deep breath, “oh yeah?” she said in amusement “What rooms would that be?” she teased. She knew what you meant, but she loved seeing you get all flustered because of her.
“yours is definitely on the list,” you say, closing whatever distance was left between you and her. “oh so there’s a list?” she chuckled in amusement. You couldn’t help but linger your eyes on her lips, you wanted to kiss her so badly.
You look back up, locking eyes with her, and you unconsciously lean forward, as if your body had a mind of its own. Wanda does the same, and your lips finally touch. Your hand slides up in her hair, her hands cup your face and you let out a relief sigh, you were starving for her.
You lean into the kiss, wanting more and more. But Wanda pulled away, You looked at her with a puzzled expression but before you could protest she covered your mouth with her hand and used the other to open the door.
You stumble into the room as Wanda locks the door “You’re such a mess for me” she teases as her lips finally reunite with yours, the lips  which you still couldn’t get enough of. “you know,” she breathes, pulling away from the kiss and locking her eyes with you, “I could read your mind the whole date, right?”
You look at her yet again with a frustrated expression, “What—“ you protest playfully “So you were just playing with me the whole time?” you let out a breath.
“more like teasing you” she chuckles lightly, the soft voice bringing your butterflies back. “you’re an asshole” you scoff, “you know you love me” she responds before leading you to the bedroom.
You sit down on the end of the bed, as Wanda crawls on top of you, not breaking the kiss. You feel hands tugging your shirt upwards, next thing you know it is on the floor along with your Bra.
You let out a frustrated sigh as Wanda pulls away once more. “You need to stop doing that,” She shoots you a teasing smirk and replies innocently, “but I like teasing you”
“shut up” you mumble out in a chuckle as she places kisses along your neck, getting lower. You feel hands sliding down your jeans, “you’re so wet for me, Darling—“ Wanda taunts, looking down at you in amusement, “and I haven’t even done anything yet”
Her hands rub over the soft fabric of your panties, gaining a moan from you which you immediately bite down. “don’t” she says, “I want to hear your voice” she whispers as she continues rubbing, while she sloppily kisses you, the muffled moans echoing in the room.
She takes off your pants, landing kisses down the way to your lower stomach, making you squirm. You try to close your thighs in an attempt to calm your throbbing but Wanda keeps them open.
“Keep your legs open for me, darling” she whispers, her kisses finally reaching your pussy. Causing you to squirm once again, feeling the vibration of her talking through your whole body.
“Wanda~” you moan in desperation. She wasted no time and took your panties off, leaving your pussy bare.
Just when you thought she was finished teasing you, her soft voice broke through the tension. “Say what you want me to do,” she murmured, a playful glint in her eyes.
“What—?” you stammered, caught off guard. The air was thick with anticipation. “tell me what you want me to do to you,” she pressed, her tone dripping with seduction. You could feel your heart racing, each word hanging in the air.
“fuck- just fuck me” Right after you finish the sentence, you feel two fingers shoved in your cunt. You let out a loud moan, caught completely off guard “fucking hell” You mutter out shaking, you could feel Wanda’s tongue making circles around your clit, sucking at it, eating you up, making you arch your back at the feeling.
You almost screamed in pleasure when she inserted the third finger. Your insides clenching around her fingers when she starts hitting the spot. Her tongue not leaving your clit.
Your legs shuddered at the feeling of her tongue against your heat. It almost made you lose consciousness right there due to your neediness.
You were overstimulated, and could barely make up any thoughts in your head. All you could do was moan at the pleasure that was getting too much to bear.
You were so close to cumming, “I’m gonna~” You close your eyes as you groan before Wanda pulled away, leaving you empty, depraved, and wanting more. “Wanda-?” you open your eyes just to see her wiping her lips with her tongue with a smirk, looking at you in amusement. “you’re so cute,” she says, “I was just about to finish” you reply in frustration, out of breath.
She chuckles as her lips reach yours, “but then I wouldn’t get to see your cute, frustrated face” she whispers as she kisses you before you can say anything else. You feel her knee press up against your pussy, making you whimper. Your hands go through her hair pulling her down, depraved for more. Her hand finally falls back down to your pulsating clit, making you flinch at the touch.
It just took a couple of minutes before you were going to cum again, you covered your face out of overstimulation, but that didn’t last long. “that won’t do..” you heard before feeling your hands being tugged, revealing your blushed face. “I want to see your face, darling, don’t hide from me” you hear Wanda’s voice, making you even more close to finishing. “I’m gonna~” you manage to stutter out, “I know, I know” Wanda shushes you, her fingers still rubbing your clit, faster and rougher, while her other fingers enter your cunt.
You let out a whimper before finally cumming, soaking her fingers completely. She slowly pulls them out, bringing them up to her mouth before licking the juice clean.
**
After you two settled into bed, cuddling closely, you felt her hands wrap around your waist. Honestly, you’d never seen her this clingy before, and it made you want to stay in bed with her forever. But Fury, for some reason, thought it was a good idea to schedule a meeting at 8 AM, so you reluctantly got up to prepare to go to sleep.
You leaned down to give her a soft kiss before sitting up. “I’m going to take a shower,” you said, but as you started to move, you felt her tugging you back.
“Why?” she asked, her tone playful.
“To clean up…?” you replied, confused.
“But then you’ll just get dirty again,” she countered, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“What do you mean?” you questioned, but before you could process her words, she was on top of you again. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” she teased, her Sokovian accent shining through.
“We can’t—” you stammered, your face burning. “We have a meeting tomorrow—”
“It’s 3 AM,” she said, glancing at the clock before locking her gaze back on yours, eyes sparkling with mischief. “We have time for a few more rounds,” she declared, a smirk dancing on her lips.
You could already feel how soaked your pussy was.
For her.
“A few more..?”
**
Needless to say, you were both late to the meeting, and Fury was not happy. He lectured you both for an hour, at one point you just zoned out, completely ignoring him.
As a ‘punishment,’ he put you on paperwork duty, with Nat. You noticed her reaction when you and Wanda walked in late, her eyes didn’t leave yours for a second, not paying any mind to the meeting. Which is why Fury assigned her with you.
Now, as you sat buried under an avalanche of paperwork, Nat was doing very little to help. Instead, she simply sat across from you, her intense green eyes fixed on your every move as you sorted through the endless files.
Frustration boiled over, and you slammed the file you were holding on the desk. “Nat, you’re seriously freaking me out. Stop staring and come help!” you exclaimed, spinning your chair to face her.
“Why did you two come in late, together?” she shot back, her eyes narrowing as she waited for an answer.
You knew you couldn’t lie to her, so you didn’t even try. “We.. went out yesterday…” you muttered, the words heavy in the air. Nat raised her eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. “Still doesn’t answer my question.”
“I may have stayed over at her place,” you confessed, taking a deep breath as you felt the tension between you two thicken. “Now—can you come help me?”
Nat’s gaze didn’t waver, a mix of frustration and something else swirling in her expression. “You think that’s enough to make me help?” she challenged, a smirk teasing at the corners of her lips.
“Are you really going to make this harder?” you replied, heart racing under her scrutiny.
“Maybe I want to see just how far you’re willing to go,” she said, leaning back in her chair, a provocative glint in her eyes.
“Are you seriously going to make me beg?” you frown, and that earns you a faint smile from her.
“Maybe I will,” Nat replies, crossing her arms, a teasing glint in her eye.
“Please,” you say, putting on your best pleading expression. Her eyes light up with mischief.
“Hmmm… again,” she replies with a smirk, clearly enjoying this.
“Seriously?” you ask, exasperation creeping into your voice, but she just stays put, unwavering. With a resigned sigh, you try again. “Please, Tash.”
“Fine,” she finally relents, sitting up with a satisfied smirk. She walks towards you, the tension in the air thickening as she closes the distance between you.
“Now, let’s see what you’ve got,” she says, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the paperwork. You can feel her warmth radiating off her, sending a shiver down your spine. “You really thought you could handle this without me?”
“Well, I could have. Faster than you I’m sure, but you were distracting me” you respond with a playful scoff before sinking back into your chair.
You let out a small gasp when you feel Nat turning your chair around to face her. She is leaning over you, her hands on the armrest. With her hair cascading down her shoulders, she leaned closer. “was that a challenge?” she raised an eyebrow, her breath close to your ear.
“what are you suggesting” you ask, daring to meet her gaze. “let’s say i have an idea to make things.. more interesting” her voice full of mischief. “whoever has the least amount of paperwork left, until— let’s say” she glances at her watch, “5pm, wins.” she adds, “if you win, i’ll finish the rest of our paperwork” she says with a smirk.
“What if you win?” you ask, a hint of curiosity in your voice.
Natasha leans back slightly, a playful glint still in her eyes. “If I win, you go on a date with me, and— ofcourse finish the rest of the paperwork.”
Her boldness catches you off guard, but, honestly, what else were you expecting from her? you were planning to go on a date with her anyways.
“Fine, that seems fair,” you reply, though you quickly add, “but no distracting each other and no cheating!”
She shoots you a mischievous grin “no promises” she says, before heading back to her desk, flipping open the first file.
You spin your chair around, heart racing, and do the same, the challenge igniting a competitive spark between you.
**
the clock was ticking, it was 4:55, Nat had a little under 10 files left, and you were already on your last one. you glance over at her, but she seemed calm, which made you even more nervous than you already were.
you closed the last file with a satisfied grin, “i win, there’s only two minutes left. give up already tash” you say with a grin, but before you can even lean back in your chair the door opens and Fury’s assistant comes in with a handful of more paperwork, placing it on your desk, “Mr.Fury told me that he needs these done by tomorrow morning.” she says, looking at you.
**
You were completely dumbfounded. “What—no,” you stammer, but the assistant had already slipped out the door. Natasha stood up from her chair, that infuriating smirk dancing on her lips as she leaned casually against your desk. “What were you saying, love?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. your ears flushed, hearing her call you ‘love’ was doing something to you.
You glanced at the clock. 5 PM.
“fuck me..” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation.
“That’s the plan,” you hear her say, a satisfied chuckle escaping her.
“You did this, didn’t you?” you ask, narrowing your gaze as you look up at her.
“Me? I would never!” she retorts, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she pretends to be offended.
“Not fair, Tash. So not fair,” you frown, already accepting your defeat.
**
Before you could get any more work in, Natasha had already dragged you away after convincing you, that you would finish them later tonight, but something told you you wouldn’t be getting any work done.
You were sitting in her car, you weren’t sure where Nat would take you out on a first date. In a restaurant? that’s just not her, at least not on the first date. The Movies? that would be too boring.
“We’re here, love” her voice pulls you right out of your thoughts, the word love leaving you red. “why do you keep calling me love?” you ask, opening the car door. “I like how you get flushed everytime” she smirks in amusement.
You roll your eyes, “where are we?” you finally ask, looking around. “heard you liked shooting” she says with a smile as she leads you in a door, her hand on your waist.
You step into a vibrant field, where a selection of paintball markers is laid out on a workbench, accompanied by a pile of paintballs nearby.
Turning back to Natasha, practically bouncing with excitement, you exclaim, “No way!” A playful grin spreads across your face as you tease, “Ooh, you’re so done!” With that, you quickly grab one of the markers and load it with a handful of paintballs.
Natasha chuckles, her smile brightening as she watches you. “You sure about that, love?” she asks, picking up her own marker and some paintballs.
“Oh, I’m absolutely sure! You’ll pay for cheating your way through this date, Tash.” An assistant offers you body armor, but you wave it off. “Ooh, playing tough?” Natasha taunts, mirroring your refusal.
The guy behind the counter clears his throat. “Alright, it’s just the two of you ladies. The rules are simple: no head shots, one shot is enough to win, but feel free to keep playing as long as you like. Stay in bounds, and most importantly, have fun!” His explanation fades into the background as you find yourself captivated by Natasha—her hair tied back, that mischievous grin on her face, the very one you swore you disliked.
“—when I start counting, run and hide. On the count of three, the game begins,” he continues, snapping you back to reality.
“One!” You and Natasha dart in opposite directions.
“Two!” You quickly hide behind a wooden wall.
“And three!” The game starts.
In an instant, you’re on the move, quietly circling around to the side where Natasha ran. This is exactly what you thought a date with Nat was going to be.
**
After playing for a while, Natasha won, but you managed to land few shots as well. By the time you were done, the darkness had settled around you, and you were both covered in paint, laughter echoing in the night as you walked back to her car.
“I was so close to winning, though!” you exclaim, frustration bubbling to the surface.
“Sure you were,” Nat chuckles, opening the car door for you before sliding in beside you.
“No, but really! You just snuck up on me out of nowhere. Before that, I had the upper hand,” you insist, crossing your arms and turning to face her, a playful challenge in your eyes.
“Hmm,” she hums, locking her gaze onto yours, her expression turning serious as the air thickens with unspoken tension.
Then, she leans in, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating from her, your heart racing in anticipation. Just as you think she’s about to kiss you, she pulls away with a teasing smirk, leaving you breathless and wanting more.
“Not fair, Tash,” you say, trying to mask your disappointment, but the spark between you only intensifies.
Halfway through the car ride, it hits you. “Shit…” you sigh, sinking back into your seat. “I’ve got paperwork to finish.” The thought of working feels exhausting, especially after the fun you just had.
“I’ll help you out, love,” Nat offers, her voice soft and inviting. “It’s my fault you ended up with that much anyway.” She giggles, and the sound brings an involuntary smile to your lips.
God, you wanted to kiss her so badly. You quickly glance in her direction, meeting her gaze that sends your heart racing. First Wanda, now Natasha? Taking both of them out was supposed to help you figure things out, but instead, it only made everything more complicated.
“Really, you don’t have to,” you say, trying to sound casual, but the tension in the air hangs thick between you.
“Oh, but I want to,” she replies, her gaze steady and intent. The way she looks at you makes it hard to focus on anything else. It’s a challenge, an invitation.
You want to push her away and avoid the feelings, but instead, you find yourself leaning in slightly, drawn to her warmth. “You make it hard to concentrate,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Good,” she replies, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “I like it that way.”
The tension simmers between you, leaving you both caught in a moment that feels electric, as if one wrong move could change everything.
**
You went back up to an empty office, everyone had clocked out, but you and Nat had to sit here and work.
You sigh as you plop down on your seat, “you know, we could have much more fun than just work, you know” she says, slowly walking towards you, turning around your chair, “you really like doing that, don’t you?” you chuckle, keeping your eyes locked on to hers.
“what kind of fun are we talking about, exactly?” you ask. of course you knew what she meant, but you wanted her to say it. you feel your pussy getting wetter and wetter, desperate for attention, throbbing for her.
“you know what i mean” she says, not breaking eye contact. “say it”
“oh, you don’t want to play that game, Love. trust me” she says in amusement. her calling you love was all you needed before you couldn’t hold it in anymore, you squeezed your legs shut, hoping to satisfy the urge down there.
Natasha notices that and forces your legs open with her knee. you look down at her knee before you feel a hand on your chin, making you look back up, “eyes on me, Love” she demands.
You feel your throbbing pussy, all you wanted to do was reach your hand down and— before you could, Nat grabbed both of your hands, gently, before grabbing a rope from a drawer and tying them behind your back.
Her knee going right back to keeping your legs open. “Nat. c’mon, please” you groan out, looking down at your now tied up hands—“nuh-uh, i said eyes on me.” You immediately look back at her.
that just made you even more wet, you could feel how soaked your panties were getting. you just wanted her—no, needed her to touch you. to completely destroy you.
“please~ just-“ you whimper out,
“look how much of a mess you are.” she looked at you in amusement, sliding her hand from your chest, down to your pants, “all for me.”
She kneels and pulls down your pants, revealing your completely soaked panties, before throwing them on the floor along with your pants.
“if you wanted me this badly, you should have told me, Love” she says, spreading your lips apart, causing a moan to escape your lips. “just stop- teasing, Tash” you breathe out.
“Where’s the fun in that, though?” she asks in the most innocent voice possible. as if she’s not in between your legs right now.
her tongue rubbing over your sore clit, then sliding down and into your cunt. you whimper as she increases the speed.
then she suddenly picks you up from the chair, and sits you down on the desk. her lips now on yours, sloppily kissing you before sliding back down, landing kisses along the way, before reaching your cunt once again.
but this time she doesn’t wait. she starts eating you out right away. her index and middle finger rubbing over your clit. “fuck.. oh fuck” you moan, not able to hold back anymore.
“Nat- slow~ah slow down” you finally stammer out. “at-at least untie my hands” you say, out of breath. it’s as if she’s lost, she doesn’t respond to anything. It doesn’t take long before you get the sensation, “i’m~ i’m gonna cum” you whimper out, as Natasha speeds up, the room filled up with your moans, you were hoping nobody else was staying overtime right now.
You groan out of pleasure, as you finally cum.
Nat gets up with a satisfied look. “Now, untie me, please” you point at your hands with your head, “i gotta finish this work”
“Oh, we’re nowhere near done, love,” she says, gently caressing your face.
“What? Natasha—no,” you stammer, still feeling a bit overstimulated and confused by the moment.
“but sure, i’ll untie you” she says completely ignoring you, as she grabs scissors and cuts the rope open. “Nat, i have way too much work due tomorrow morning, we really can’t” you start explaining, and attempt to jump down from the table, but she catches you and sits you back down.
“we have time for one more round” Her lips find their way to yours, that was all you needed, all your pussy needed to become even more desperate for Natasha.
“fine, make it quick” you moan out through the kiss, “oh, i don’t do quick, Love” she smirks, before pulling away. she opens the bottom drawer of your table, and pulls out something very familiar to you, a Purple vibrator. “what- how’d you even know that was there-?” you ask covering your face with your hands out of embarrassment.
“you really think i wouldn’t notice?” she chuckled. “my desk is right in-front of yours”
“let’s see how well this actually works” she smirked and looked at you before turning the Vibrator on, immediately putting it on your Clit, causing you to flinch. “fucking hell..” you groan out.
she grabs you by the chin and pulls you into a kiss, while she slowly turns up the amplitude, testing how long you’d last without breaking the kiss.
Soon after you pull away, taking a deep breath. “seems to be working well” she states, “what do you think, love?” she asks before turning up the amplitude even more, she knew what she was doing, she enjoyed seeing you be a mess, just for her.
you whimper out in pleasure, unable to answer her. “i asked you a question, it’s not polite to ignore me, love” she said before turning the vibrator off. you look up in frustration, “god you really enjoy doing that, don’t you?”
“i asked a question” she responded with a smirk. “it works wonders, now please turn it back on” you say it in a hurry,
"Since you asked so nicely," she said, her voice low and inviting as she leaned closer, her breath warm against your skin.
As she closed the distance, her lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, like a feather grazing your skin. The gentle touch sent a shiver down your spine, then she turned more rough and out of nowhere, without a warning she turns the vibrator to the highest amplitude. making you scream both out of pleasure and surprise.
it didn’t take long for you to cum after that, she knew exactly which parts she needed to touch to make you feel good.
it was 2am after you finished. she cleaned you up, softly rubbing wipes over the places she left hickeys. giving you soft kisses along the way, as if she didn’t just make you levitate up to heaven out of pleasure.
you sat down to finish the work, but you fell asleep, not even the two cups of coffee you chugged were any help at all.
Nat carried you to your room and finished the rest of the paperwork herself.
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simplygojo · 8 months ago
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ok ive followed you for awhile and i love your writing youre so talented! if youre open to it i wanted to request something. basically my idea was like (aged up) you nobara, yuji, megumi, maki, toge are friends and you play a spicy truth or dare game... basically it ends with crushes confessing their feelings and spicy preferences/kinks and stuff. i was thinking yuji x reader or megumi x reader but anything works. i totally get if you think this is weird and dont want to do it so no worries! - anon <3
Drink, Dare, and Desire
Authors Note: I loved this request!! Thank you so much for your kind words, I really hope you like this and hope it was something along the lines of what you were looking for! 
My requests are always open :)
Pairing: Adult/Megumi Fushiguro x f/reader
Word Count : 3.6K
Warnings : 18+ Content, (mild) SMUT! Alcohol Use!
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The night was alive with the hum of the city just outside the dorm windows. You, along with Nobara, Yuji, Megumi, Maki, and Toge, were sprawled across the room, the remnants of a half-eaten takeout dinner and a mostly drained bottle of sake scattered between you.
It wasn’t often that you all found time to hang out like this. Between training and missions, these moments of downtime were precious—and apparently, very unpredictable.
“Alright, alright, who’s next for a drink?” Nobara chirped, swirling the sake bottle in her hand, her eyes gleaming with mischievous energy.
Yuji stretched lazily, a wide grin on his face as he glanced around. “Why stop at drinking when we could make it interesting?”
It took less than a second for Nobara to catch on. “Ooh, what are you suggesting?”
Maki, sitting back with her arms folded, raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem opposed. Meanwhile, Toge, his quiet demeanor in stark contrast to the energy around him, gave a casual shrug. It was rare to see him so relaxed, which probably had something to do with the sake flowing freely.
“Truth or dare,” Yuji declared, rubbing his hands together like he was about to unveil some grand plan.
A soft groan escaped Megumi, who had been sitting quietly beside you, a slight frown on his face as he watched the chaotic energy unfold. “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered, though you could sense a slight interest beneath his usual stoic demeanor.
You snorted, nudging him lightly. “Don’t be such a buzzkill, Fushiguro.”
He shot you a sidelong glance, his lips twitching upward for a second before settling back into his familiar expression. But even as he tried to seem unaffected, there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. Truth or dare games had a way of revealing more than they were meant to, and maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for exactly that.
Nobara wasted no time, slapping the floor in excitement. “Okay! Yuji, since it was your idea, you go first. Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Yuji responded instantly, leaning back on his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
Nobara’s grin widened, and you knew from that look she had something ridiculous in mind. “I dare you… to chug your drink, then kiss someone in the circle.”
The room fell into a momentary hush, all eyes darting toward Yuji as his grin faltered for just a second before he leaned forward and grabbed his drink.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he chugged the remainder of his sake, slamming the cup down with a triumphant look on his face. Without hesitation, he leaned over to Toge, planting a dramatic kiss on his cheek.
Toge raised a brow, his face impassive as always, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Salmon,” he said, giving Yuji a light shove, which only made everyone burst out laughing.
Maki shook her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Weak.”
“You’re just mad you weren’t the one kissed,” Yuji teased, wiping the corner of his mouth with a grin.
“Dream on, idiot,” Maki shot back, but the playful tension between them was undeniable.
Toge, ever the quiet observer, pointed to you next, his expression calm as he said, “Tuna mayo?”
“Truth,” you answered, deciding to take it easy for now. You could already feel a warmth spreading through you, the sake making everything seem a little hazier, a little more relaxed.
Yuji leaned forward with an eager expression. “Who do you think is the most attractive here?”
A collective groan followed the question, though there was a sense of anticipation hanging in the air. You felt the weight of their stares, especially Megumi’s, whose gaze seemed to pierce through you.
You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Megumi,” you finally said, the word tumbling out softly, almost shyly.
The room erupted in laughter and teasing remarks, but all you could focus on was the subtle way Megumi’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting away as a faint flush rose to his cheeks.
“Wow, no hesitation,” Nobara teased, nudging Megumi’s arm with her elbow. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
Megumi grumbled something under his breath, but his usual stoic front was beginning to crack, a small, rare smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
“Alright, alright, moving on,” you said quickly, trying to divert the attention. “Nobara, truth or dare?”
“Dare,” she replied instantly, crossing her arms over her chest with a look that screamed ‘challenge me.’
You bit your lip, thinking for a moment before smirking. “I dare you to tell us one of your kinks.”
Nobara’s eyes widened slightly, her confident facade faltering for just a second before she burst into laughter. “Oh, come on! Alright, fine.” She leaned back, her cheeks flushed—though whether it was from the alcohol or embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. “I like it rough—like really rough.”
The room collectively gasped before bursting into a mixture of laughter and wide-eyed stares. Yuji let out a loud “What?!” while Maki just shrugged with a look that said, Not surprised.
“That’s way too much information,” Yuji groaned, covering his face with his hands while Nobara smacked him on the back.
“What, too much for you, Yuji?” Nobara teased, clearly enjoying the moment. “Maybe I’ll dial it back next time.”
Toge snickered quietly, glancing at Yuji, whose face was flushed for an entirely different reason now.
The game continued, each round more daring and revealing. Maki, always calm and collected, had admitted that she preferred someone who could challenge her both physically and ‘test her limits.’
Toge, while still being mostly silent, revealed through hand gestures and a few simple words that he liked to be taken control of and bossed around—makes sense given his cursed speech ability.
Yuji, with his usual lack of filter, shared a little too much about his curiosity in trying anything—and he meant everything—at least once, leaving Nobara shaking her head and everyone else laughing.
By the time it was Megumi’s turn again, the air in the room felt charged, the stakes higher now that almost everyone had bared more than just their emotions.
Maki’s sharp gaze landed on Megumi, and you could practically see the gears turning in her mind. “Alright, Fushiguro, truth or dare?”
He looked almost bored, but you could tell he was being careful. “Dare.”
A slow, almost wicked grin spread across Maki’s face. “I dare you to kiss y/n.”
Your heart nearly stopped. The laughter and chatter from the others faded into the background as you locked eyes with Megumi. His expression didn’t change, but you noticed how his eyes darkened slightly, like he was weighing his options.
The whole room seemed to still, waiting for his next move.
Without breaking eye contact, Megumi stood up, moving toward you with a calmness that belied the tension swirling around him. Every step he took seemed deliberate, and you could feel the heat rising to your face as the distance between you closed.
He stopped right in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne mixed with the alcohol in the air. His voice was low when he spoke, meant only for your ears. “Are you okay with this?”
You could barely nod, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that started soft, almost teasing.
But when you responded, pressing into him, the kiss deepened, the intensity building between you until all the nerves and tension melted away. His hand slipped to your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate circles.
When he finally pulled away, the room erupted in cheers and teasing catcalls, but you could hardly focus on any of it.
The only thing you could think about was the way Megumi’s hand lingered on your waist, his eyes still locked on yours as though you were the only person in the room.
“Wow,” Yuji finally broke the silence, clapping his hands together. “That was intense.”
“Way to go, Fushiguro,” Nobara added, winking at you with a knowing smile.
Megumi, still quiet, returned to his spot beside you, but this time, his body language was different.
There was no more guarded front, no more distance. Instead, his knee brushed against yours, his arm resting just a little too close to be accidental.
The game had peeled back some of his usual stoicism, and now there was something deeper lurking beneath his calm exterior—something you could feel humming in the space between you. 
You dared to glance over at him, only to find his eyes already on you, their dark intensity sending a rush of heat to your cheeks. He didn't look away, didn't even try to hide the fact that he was watching you.
Your breath hitched slightly, the sudden weight of his gaze pressing down on you, making your pulse quicken. It was like he was trying to read you, see past the casual facade you were putting up for the others.
But his eyes weren’t just curious—they were hungry, filled with a desire you weren’t sure you were ready to face head-on, but that also thrilled you in ways you hadn’t expected.
The others were too caught up in their laughter to notice the way the air crackled between you and Megumi, but you were hyper-aware of every single movement he made. Even the subtle shift in his posture, the way his hand rested dangerously close to your thigh, sent sparks through you.
You swallowed, trying to shake off the way your skin prickled with awareness, but it was impossible. The more you tried to ignore him, the more your body seemed to betray you, the warmth in your stomach spreading lower with every lingering glance he threw your way.
Then, as if on cue, Megumi stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. "I'm getting another bottle," he murmured, his voice low and rough around the edges, like he was holding back more than just his words.
You weren’t prepared for what came next. As he rose, his hand grazed your thigh—a light, seemingly casual touch, but it set every nerve in your body on fire. 
His fingers lingered for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary, sending a jolt of electricity through you, and when you looked up, his eyes met yours again, darker now, filled with an unspoken promise. 
Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything around you blurred—Nobara’s laughter, Yuji’s teasing, Maki’s quips—all of it fading into the background. 
All you could focus on was the heat of Megumi’s touch, the way it had seared through you, leaving your skin tingling with anticipation—you wanted him, bad.
The room felt too small, too hot, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of space between you and him. It was nothing, really—a simple touch, a brush of fingers—but it felt like everything.
Like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving only the tension that crackled between you both.
He disappeared for a moment, leaving you to catch your breath. But even as he walked away, you could still feel him. It was like his presence clung to you, the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin even in his absence.
When Megumi returned with another bottle of sake, his calm facade was back in place, but you weren’t fooled. There was a subtle shift in the way he moved, the way his eyes flicked to you as he sat back down, this time even closer than before. 
His thigh brushed against yours, just barely, but it was enough to send another rush of heat pooling in your stomach.
You could feel him now, not just his physical presence, but the storm of emotions brewing just beneath the surface.
You shifted in your seat, suddenly too aware of every inch of your body—how close you were sitting, the way your legs almost touched, the heat radiating off him.
It felt like every breath you took was somehow synced with his, the air between you buzzing with a tension that neither of you acknowledged out loud but was impossible to ignore.
Nobara was saying something, but you barely registered the words. Your focus had narrowed, zeroing in on the way Megumi’s fingers brushed against the rim of his glass, the way his jaw clenched slightly when he looked at you, like he was holding something back. 
The tension was suffocating, but in the best possible way, like it was wrapping around you, pulling you both into a world where nothing else mattered.
You shifted again, but this time it felt deliberate. The tiniest of movements, your knee brushing against his, the fabric of his pants against your skin. 
It was innocent enough on the surface, but the way his eyes darkened in response told you everything you needed to know. The tension between you had been building for too long, simmering just beneath the surface, and now, it felt like it was reaching a boiling point.
When he looked at you again, his gaze was heated, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but was holding back. You couldn’t help the way your pulse quickened, your heart thudding in your chest. 
You wanted him to break first, to give in to whatever this was that had been hanging between you for so long.
The night was winding down, but the weight of everything that had been said—and left unsaid—hung heavily in the air. The others had drifted off to their rooms, their laughter fading into the background as the dorm grew quieter.
It was just you and Megumi now, the soft glow of the lamplight casting long shadows across the room, highlighting the distance between you that was rapidly shrinking with every passing second.
Megumi stood close, his usual stoic expression softer now, more vulnerable than you had ever seen. His fingers brushed against your arm, sending a spark of electricity down your spine. His eyes flickered, like he was searching for the right words but couldn’t quite find them.
"You’re staying, right?" His voice was quiet, hesitant, the rough edge of his usual demeanor replaced with something rawer, something real.
You nodded, heart pounding. "Yeah. I’m staying."
The silence that followed was thick with anticipation, the unspoken tension between you two finally rising to the surface after simmering for so long.
You could feel the magnetic pull between you, an invisible thread tugging you closer, binding you in this shared moment of vulnerability and desire. 
Before you could say anything else, Megumi’s resolve seemed to snap. His lips were on yours again, more urgent this time, as if the dam holding back everything he’d been feeling for so long had finally burst.
His hands slipped to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his grip firm but careful, like he was afraid to let go.
This kiss was different from the one earlier, more intense, filled with unspoken promises and a hunger that neither of you had fully realized until now.
It was as if all the time spent pretending, all the looks, the touches, the quiet moments shared between you, had led to this. 
You let out a long-awaited moan into his mouth as your lips moved hungrily in sync, as if releasing all the tension you’d been sitting in all night.
The fire between you was no longer just a flicker—it had ignited into something all-consuming, something you couldn’t ignore any longer.
You kissed him back with equal intensity, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pressed yourself closer, desperate to erase any remaining space between you. 
His lips moved against yours with a rhythm that felt both familiar and new, like you had been waiting for this moment your entire life. The heat between you was overwhelming, your mind hazy with the sheer closeness of him.
Megumi’s hands roamed your waist, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, his fingers rough and warm as they explored the sensitive skin beneath.
His touch was deliberate, slow, as though he was savoring every second, every inch of your body that he could claim. 
Each pass of his fingertips was electric, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, igniting a fire deep inside you that you could no longer contain.
The moment his skin touched yours, it was like a spark had been lit, an intense awareness coursing through your body. 
His hands slid up the curve of your waist, pausing just beneath your ribs, his thumbs grazing the underside of your chest with an aching slowness that sent shivers racing down your spine.
The contact was subtle, but the heat from his touch seared into you, making your breath hitch and your pulse race.
Your senses were on overdrive—every small stroke of his fingers, the way his nails lightly grazed your skin, sent a rush of heat pooling in your core.
The alcohol had dulled your inhibitions, making you hyper-aware of every inch of him against you, but it was more than that. 
The intimacy, the raw connection you shared with him, was overwhelming, heightening the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you.
You could feel it in every brush of his skin against yours, every soft exhale of his breath on your neck as he nibbled at your soft skin.
The tension built with every passing second, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. 
His hands moved higher, his touch growing bolder, more possessive, and it was almost unbearable—the way you ached for more, for him to go further, to close the distance that still remained between you.
Your body trembled beneath his touch, anticipation coursing through your veins as you leaned into him, needing him closer, needing more of him.
Your soft gasp filled the space between you as Megumi’s lips pressed against the side of your neck, trailing a slow, deliberate path down your skin. His breath was warm, ragged, and every exhale sent a wave of heat coursing through you. 
He kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, the warmth of his lips and the scrape of his teeth drawing another shiver from you. It was maddening—the way he took his time, teasing you with soft, lingering kisses that left your body trembling with need.
His lips pressed against the hollow of your throat, and the sensation of his mouth on your skin made you feel like you were unraveling, your body responding to him with a mind of its own. 
Every kiss, every stroke of his fingers sent another wave of heat crashing through you, your thoughts muddled by the intoxicating combination of alcohol, desire, and the closeness of his body against yours.
You could feel his breath falter, his own restraint slipping as his lips moved against your skin, the heat between you becoming almost unbearable. He kissed lower, his lips trailing along your collarbone, leaving a path of warmth and want in their wake. 
Your heart raced, your body thrumming with the need for more, for him to touch you everywhere, to finally give in to the desire that had been building between you for what felt like forever.
As his hands tightened around your waist, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, you knew that you weren’t the only one losing control.
Megumi’s breath came faster, more ragged, his kisses turning hungrier, more desperate, as though he was just as consumed by this moment as you were. 
The world outside faded into nothing, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other, the heat of your bodies and the tension that had been simmering between you for far too long finally breaking free.
He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as both of you caught your breath. His hands still held you close, refusing to let go, and when his eyes met yours again, they were dark with an intensity that made your heart race.
"Y/n," he whispered, his voice rough and low, filled with a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. "I’ve wanted this for so long... wanted you."
Your heart fluttered at his confession, the weight of his words settling deep inside you. You had always known there was something between you and Megumi, but hearing it from him, feeling it in the way he touched you, made it all feel so much more real.
"I’ve wanted you too," you whispered back, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard it. He didn’t need words to understand—he could feel it in the way you clung to him, the way your body fit perfectly against his.
He captured your lips again, this time slower, deeper, savoring every second of it. The kiss was languid, filled with all the emotions you had both been too afraid to admit until now. His hands traced up your back, drawing you impossibly closer, his fingers tangled in your hair as the kiss grew more passionate.
The world outside faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth and need. Time seemed to stretch, the only sound in the room the soft gasps and sighs as you both gave in to the moment, to the desire that had been building between you for so long.
Whatever unspoken boundaries had existed between you and Megumi before this night had shattered, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other’s arms, with nothing but your shared desire and the heat of the moment to guide you.
There was no turning back now.
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tackykachowch · 5 months ago
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Silco was set up to be Fishbones from the start
Disclaimer: I won't take season 2 into account At All, because it can't work with setups and payoffs even if its life depends on it.
Alrighty. As we've seen Season 1 paid a lot of attention to set up canon things from LoL into the show as naturally and logically as possible, and at least from my point of view, it handled the job with flying colors. Jayce's hammer, Vi's gauntlets, Vander/Warwick etc, nothing felt out of place. But how does Silco fit into this at all? Let's get down to business to defeat the huns
First of all, what even is Fishbones? In the canon of LoL, it's one of if not the most iconic weapon Jinx has. And it is not only a weapon to her, but a loyal and "beloved" companion, as it's described in one of her skins. She constantly talks to it, and in contrast to her chaotic and impulsive nature, Fishbones is very pragmatic and calm. Sounds like a certain someone, doesn't it? But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
But how does Silco go from being Jinx's father to one of her weapons? There are a lot of points that support that actually, I was surprised myself ngl.
- Silco is the only character in the entire series who is directly and tightly connected to water and underwater creatures. Silco was "reborn" in the water when Vander tried to kill him, the first office he had was placed under the water, with a huge observational window. Silco is also fond of underwater creatures, and while other people call and see them as monsters, Silco pays no attention to it, as he thinks that there's "a monster inside all of us". And here's Fishbones, who is designed after a shark, arguably the most famous "underwater monster". But what is more interesting is that it debuted is the finale of season 1, which is titled "The monster you created". Quite a throughline there.
- Silco was the reason behind Fishbones' creation in the first place. While it does seem that it all started with Jinx, who stole the hex gemstone on the Progress Day, we also need to remember WHY she did it. She did it to impress Silco specifically, to make him to be proud of her. This want was triggered by her screwing up the smuggling mission earlier that day, and while Silco didn't scold her for it much and only advised her to rest for a bit, she saw this as him thinking that she's weak. So, after all of this Silco asks Jinx to make a weapon with the use of gemstone. Not necessarily to use it against Piltover, but to have it as a wild card if his plans go wrong. Jinx agrees and attempts to reverse engineer it, but it triggers her memories when she killed Mylo and Claggor with her bomb, so she tells Silco that she can't do it. He then goes to the river he was nearly killed in with her, and "baptises" her to help her let go of her fear of pain. This seemed to have worked, at least for a little while, because she managed to finish the weapon. So, in conclusion: Fishbones' creation was triggered by Jinx's want to impress Silco, and he helped her with its creation on every step of the way.
- this point is somewhat meta, but I'll use it anyway. In previously mentioned episode 9 Silco tells Jinx that everybody around them betrays them, and they have only each other to love and lean on. He says, quote: "Everyone betrays us, Jinx. Vander, her. It's only us". At the same time, in LoL Jinx says this line to Fishbones: "It's just you and me, Fishbones!". Well.....it's certainly a callback if I've seen one. Like- it's not even funny. They couldn't have written this line on accident.
- now onto the most interesting part for me personally. We all now that there are no accidents in animation, like. At all. Even if there are this is extremely rare, as every frame is created intentionally. Now, we do now that there are quite. A few discrepancies between writers and animators of arcane, but I don't think this applies in this particular case. Now onto the actual point. So, in the finale of season 1 Jinx kills Silco, and it's shown to us like this.
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He's turned with right side ("human") of his face to the camera, while the left side ("monster") side is hidden.
As Jinx fires Fishbones at the council
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It's positioned with its right side to the camera, which alignes with Silco's "monster eye". Also, Fishbone's eye has a black scar pattern around its eye, which again, resembles Silco's damadged eye. That could mean that Silco is once again "reborn", and now continues to live on in the monster Jinx created.
And here comes the most awesome part in all of this. When Silco adopts Powder, he hugs her and tells her
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Do you see how the frame is positioned? Exactly. It is exactly the same framing scene with Jinx and Fishbones has. And, most importantly, when Jinx pulls the trigger, we hear the exactly same line on the background: "We will show them all". It simultaneously shows: that Jinx's attack on the council is her way of dealing with grief of killing Silco; her way of honoring Silco's fight against Piltover; and a direct transition of Silco into Fishbones. Although he's dead in body, but Jinx's memories of him and his voice now continue to live in Fishbones, her new eternal companion.
I am at awe with the fundamental work that's been done with this setup, and although s2 never followed up on this, I still can get enjoyment from the clear intent creators put here originally.
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rainandandy · 9 months ago
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could you pls do some rainxfem!reader pls?? There is a serious lack of rain fics on this app and I need more😭😭 just some HC’s, fluff, angst, nsfw, love it all. Take it and bby😘
(btw LOVE your work, ur keeping me alive rn)
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Thank you for the ask!😘 I will have more Rain Carradine X FemReader coming! Hope you like this
Pairings: Rain Carradine X Fem!Reader
Warnings: Jealous Reader
Word Count: 1027
Life on Jackson's Star was a gritty mix of endless work and fleeting moments of reprieve, where the dusty, metallic corridors echoed with the clanking of machinery and the chatter of miners. Amidst this stark backdrop, your relationship with Rain Carradine blossomed into something that felt almost out of place with its warmth and genuineness.
Rain was strong, capable, and fiercely protective, not just of her synthetic brother Andy but of you as well. Her friendship with Tyler, her former partner and a prominent figure in the mining crew, had initially seemed unremarkable to you. However, as time went on, their easy camaraderie began to gnaw at you, the seeds of jealousy sprouting unchecked.
You'd watch them during breaks, sharing jokes and reminiscing about past missions, their laughter a stark contrast to the usual din of the miners’ mess hall. The more you observed, the more your imagination painted pictures of a past perhaps better left behind, stirring a restlessness within you that you couldn't shake off.
One evening, compelled by a mix of curiosity and unsettling thoughts, you approached Andy. Despite his challenges with speech and the obvious difficulties his synthetic nature sometimes posed in social settings, Andy had a way of understanding human emotions, perhaps better than most humans themselves.
"Andy," you started, hesitating as you chose your words carefully, "did Rain and Tyler... were they together? Like, before?"
Andy's eyes, always so expressive despite the rest of his face remaining eerily impassive, flickered with something that might have been discomfort. "Yes," he stuttered, his voice mechanical yet tinged with a hint of warmth. "But it was a long time ago. Things change."
His confirmation hit harder than expected. You tried to laugh it off, to dismiss the tightening in your chest as just a silly overreaction. "Thanks, Andy. Just curious, you know?"
But curiosity wasn't easily sated. At the next community gathering in the recreation hall—a rare moment of leisure on the harsh mining planet—you spotted Kay, Tyler's vivacious sister, and decided on a reckless course of action. Flirting with Kay, you hoped, might just give you the answers you needed, or at least draw some kind of reaction out of Rain.
Kay, with her easy smile and flirtatious demeanor, was a willing participant in your charade. You laughed at her jokes, touched her arm lightly, and played the part of someone smitten. From the corner of your eye, you could see Rain watching, her expression unreadable.
Later, as you and Rain walked back to your quarters along the dimly lit paths of the colony, she broke the silence. "Seems like you and Kay were getting along well tonight," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something else—was it amusement? Concern?
You bristled, defensive and still wound up from your own concocted drama. "What about you and Tyler? Seems like old times, huh?"
Rain stopped walking, turning to face you under the faint glow of the overhead lamps. Her laugh, when it came, was genuine and full of warmth. "Are you jealous?" she asked, stepping closer, her eyes searching yours.
As Rain's question hung in the air between you, a cool breeze whistled through the narrow passages of Jackson's Star, stirring the dust around your feet. "Are you jealous?" she repeated, her voice a gentle tease that echoed slightly off the metal walls surrounding you.
Caught off guard by her directness and the earnest look in her eyes, your initial reaction was to deflect, but the sincerity in her gaze held you in place. Before you could respond, Rain stepped closer, closing the small gap that the conversation had widened between you. Her hands reached up, resting lightly on your cheeks, her touch sending a familiar warmth through you that contrasted sharply with the chill of the evening.
With a tenderness that always seemed at odds with the harsh environment of the mining colony, Rain leaned in. Her lips met yours in a kiss that was soft at first, hesitant, as if giving you room to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you found yourself leaning into the kiss, deepening it, your hands moving to encircle her waist and pull her closer.
Rain responded in kind, her movements confident, her lips pressing more firmly against yours. The kiss grew from tender to fervent, a mingling of relief and passion. It was the kind of kiss that spoke of deep connections and unspoken promises, a reassurance of her feelings amid the whirlwind of doubts that had clouded your mind.
The world around you seemed to quiet, the usual hum of the colony fading into a distant backdrop to the intensity of the moment. Rain's kiss chased away the shadows of jealousy, filling the spaces with an affirming warmth that seeped deep into your bones.
When you finally broke apart, breathless and a little dazed, Rain’s smile was radiant under the sparse light of the colony’s lamps. "I mean it," she said, her forehead resting against yours as she caught her breath. "It’s always been you."
In that moment, with Rain’s affirmation still tingling on your lips, the earlier tension dissolved, leaving a clarity that brightened the dark paths of Jackson's Star. Her laughter, light and freeing, bubbled up between you, and you couldn't help but laugh with her, the sound mingling with the night air.
The path back to your quarters was filled with a comfortable silence, the type that comes when no words are necessary to fill the space between two people. Rain’s hand in yours felt like a vow, a silent promise that no misunderstanding could break the bond you shared.
As Andy turned to give you both a subtle thumbs up before heading off to give you some privacy, you realized how deeply integrated into your life Rain had become. Her presence was a constant source of strength and comfort, just as you hoped to be for her.
Your journey together on Jackson's Star might be filled with challenges, but moments like these, stolen under the artificial stars of the colony, reminded you that as long as you were together, there was nothing you couldn’t face.
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honeytonedhottie · 1 year ago
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maintaining/creating a social life⋆.ೃ࿔*:・🧁
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ok so i used to have HORRIBLE social anxiety and i think that the contrast between me with social anxiety and me now is INSANE. in a good way ofc. so im not going to talk about how i overcame social anxiety, instead im going to talk about how i created a social life ✨
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MAKING FRIENDS ;
the science of making friends is simple and im about to explain it. so go to where there are ppl that u can relate to/want to relate to. example being school, clubs, etc.
next, observe who u want to befriend and make sure to start with a compliment. starting off by introducing urself just makes for an awkward conversation but starting with a compliment puts u and the other party at ease.
something thats rly important is ur CHARISMA and ur magnetic energy so be CHARMING ✨ if u find that the other party is not reciprocating its either they're uncomfy, uninterested, or just a weirdo. and in all cases, you should stop.
MAKING FRIENDS THRU FRIENDS ;
make friends with your friends friends -> make friends with their friends -> and so on and so forth. this is how you network and create a friendly status with lots of people.
if ur in a school setting like i am, make friends with people in ur own grade or in a higher up grade, i dont usually make friends with ppl in lower grades but ofc there are always exceptions.
making friends through friends is how u get invited to parties, have more opportunities be available to you, and ofc network for more connections. guys connections are literally EVERYTHING.
MAKE TIME FOR UR FRIENDS ;
make sure to learn who u call friends. when is their birthday? do they have specific preferences? what kind of music do they listen to? knowing ur friends makes them feel special and thats how u learn to be a good friend. i can make a whole POST about being a good friend cuz i've learned and grown so much with that.
THE POWER OF A COMPLIMENT ;
make it ur mission to give a compliment everyday cuz first off, being nice is HOT so pls be nice and second of all, if ur trying to talk to someone and u start with a compliment i promise that it'll go so much better.
if ur thinking "thats so awkward how will i do that" then the category dont be shy is one that u gotta read cuz girl 💀. if u need an example i'll provide one from my own experience so u can see the power of a compliment.
there was this girl in my spanish class and i always thought that she was so pretty and she seemed so nice. one day we bump into each other in the bathroom and i compliment her hair and makeup, she responds well. we continue to have friendly interactions throughout the rest of the school year and now we are good friends on and off campus.
DONT BE SHY ;
when u make friends please please PLEASE work on ur confidence first. you need to be SURE of yourself. if not, when ur being friendly it could come off as desperation and ppl will humiliate, make fun of and take advantage of u. and thats NOT hot.
be CONFIDENT, you literally have nothing to lose. when u shed ur shyness (thru things like exposure therapy etc) a whole new world is opened up for u bcuz sometimes the only thing holding u back is urself and ur limiting beliefs about urself.
MAKE UR PERSONALITY SHINE ;
make sure that know ur own personality and from knowing that u can find ways in which u can make it shine. no matter what ur personality is though, something that i cannot stress enough is BE NICE.
be friendly and amicable with everyone and stay out of drama and if drama comes to you then stay unbothered 😭. dont try and uproot ur own personality to copy someone else's.
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soleilpinto · 4 months ago
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Huracán de Barcelona (Carlos Sainz) ♱ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🍷
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“You’re not as different from me as you think,” 𐙚—🪽
Synopsis: Carlos Sainz, a devout church member destined for sainthood, finds his faith tested when he meets Y/N, a bold and beautiful woman known as Huracán de Barcelona or The Hurricane of Barcelona. Drawn into her world of defiance and temptation, Carlos faces a battle between his vows and his desires, questioning everything he once believed. Their forbidden connection will change both their lives forever.
Genre: Slowburn, Angst
AU: 1960s!au
Pairing: Priest!Carlos x Rebel!Reader
Warnings: Reader isn't exactly a good person, she's misunderstood. This fic is lowkey rooted in my religious trauma but we don't talk about that.
Note: I've been geeking out over Hilda Furacão for the longest time and decided to take my own spin on it because I thought, why not? I've tried convincing my friends to watch it so I'm no longer alone, and I hope you guys like it! Don't forget to + reblog if you enjoyed reading.
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The warm glow of Barcelona’s neon lights cast vivid reflections on the rain-slicked streets of the red-light district. Carlos Sainz walked with quiet purpose, his simple black cassock stark against the gaudy opulence surrounding him. 
In his hands, a worn Bible—the anchor of his resolve, the symbol of his mission. He moved through the chaos of the night, determined to bring solace to those lost in the shadows of the city.
Inside La Rosa Negra, the district’s most infamous club, decadence thrived.
Music thumped, laughter rang out, and a haze of cigarette smoke curled lazily in the air. Among the revelers, you reclined on a velvet chaise, draped in a crimson gown that shimmered like liquid fire. 
A glass of champagne rested in your hand, its fizz catching the dim lights as your piercing eyes scanned the room. You were at home in this chaos, thriving in it, yet tonight her gaze landed on something—someone—who didn’t belong.
At first, you almost laugh. The man standing at the entrance, his black cassock and steady gaze, is a jarring contrast to the vivid world around him.
He clutches his Bible tightly, a solitary island of purpose in an ocean of indulgence. The faintest smirk pulls at your lips as you watch him step further into the club.
He begins to speak, his voice cutting through the din. It’s calm and firm, a steady current against the tide of indifference. But you can see it’s futile. Patrons glance his way with vague curiosity before returning to their drinks and conversations. Yet, he doesn’t falter.
His presence commands attention in a way that stirs something in you—curiosity, amusement, and perhaps a touch of challenge.
You lean back, taking a sip of champagne as an idea forms. The game practically writes itself. You set your glass aside and rise, your heels clicking against the polished floor as you move through the crowd. The familiar sound feels like a prelude to a performance, and the patrons part for you instinctively.
When you stop in front of him, you tilt your head slightly, letting your lips curl into a slow, knowing smile.
“You’re either very brave or very foolish, Padre,” you say, your voice laced with playful mockery.
His eyes meet yours for the first time, steady and unwavering. Up close, you notice the sharpness of his features, handsome in a way that doesn’t fit with his role—or this place. But it’s the strength in his gaze that holds you, a calmness that both intrigues and unnerves you.
“I come where I’m needed,” he replies simply, his voice measured.
You arch an eyebrow, amused by his composure. “And you think we need you?” you ask, feigning curiosity. A soft laugh escapes you as you shake your head.
“How noble. But tell me, Padre, do you even know what it is we’re looking for?”
His expression doesn’t waver. “I think you’re looking for more than this,” he says, gesturing subtly to the room around you.
You chuckle, the sound carrying a faint edge. “More than this? What makes you so sure?” You take a step closer, your voice dropping just enough to make it personal.
“You don’t know me, Padre. You don’t know what I want, what I need.”
For a moment, the distance between you feels like a thread pulled taut. His calm resolve remains, but you notice a flicker of doubt, so faint it’s almost imperceptible.
You lean in, catching the faint scent of incense on him, and let your voice drop further, almost conspiratorial.
“You think you’re different,” you murmur. “That you’re here to save me, to show me the error of my ways.” You pause, watching the tension build in his silence. Then, with a sly smile, you add, “But tell me, Padre—who’s going to save you?”
The weight of your words lingers, and his silence is an answer enough. Satisfied, you step back, your confidence surging as you give him one last knowing look. 
“Careful, Father,” you say, your voice light but tinged with something darker. “You might find yourself in need of saving after all.”
As you walk away, you feel his eyes on you, lingering longer than they should. A thrill courses through you, though you’re not quite sure why. Whether it’s the game itself or the strange pull of his presence, you can’t tell.
One thing is certain, though: this is far from over.
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After your first encounter, Carlos couldn’t escape you. Even in the quiet solitude of his small, sparsely furnished room at the parish, your laughter lingered in his mind, like the faint echo of a song that refused to fade.
 He knelt in prayer each night, clutching his rosary tightly, seeking clarity and strength. He told himself that you were a test—an obstacle placed in his path by God to challenge and refine his faith.
But the memory of you was relentless.
It wasn’t just your beauty, though that alone was enough to unsettle him. It was the way you moved, the way you spoke with such confidence and defiance, as though the rules of the world—and of God—were mere suggestions to you. 
You had looked at him not with guilt or shame, as so many others in your world did, but with amusement, as though you held some secret he could never comprehend.
Carlos found himself questioning his resolve. Why had he been so affected by you? Why did your words, your presence, continue to haunt him? Every moment he spent thinking about her felt like a betrayal of his calling, a crack in the foundation of his devotion. But no matter how fervently he prayed, no matter how many scriptures he recited, your image remained.
For you, your encounter was less about faith and more about curiosity. Men like Carlos didn’t belong in your world—men with unwavering principles, who spoke with conviction about things like salvation and redemption. 
It fascinated you. 
He wasn’t like the others who passed through La Rosa Negra, indulging in its offerings while wearing masks of denial.
Carlos was genuine, and that made him an enigma you couldn’t ignore.
You found herself replaying the moment he had looked into your eyes, unwavering even as you pushed and prodded at his composure. There was strength in him, a quiet kind of power that she didn’t often encounter. Most men were easy to read and easy to manipulate. But Carlos was different. His devotion wasn’t a facade—it was real, and it intrigued you.
At first, you told yourself it was a game. He was a puzzle to be solved, a challenge to be conquered. 
What would it take, you wondered, to make him falter? Could you pull him from his pedestal of piety, or would he prove as unshakable as he seemed? The thought thrilled you, and yet, there was something deeper, something you weren’t ready to acknowledge.
For both of you, your encounter had created a ripple you couldn’t ignore.
Carlos returned to the district more frequently, under the pretense of his mission to save souls. But every time he stepped into the shadows of Barcelona’s neon glow, he found himself scanning the crowds, searching for you. And you, in turn, began to linger in places you knew he might appear, your interest growing with each passing day.
Carlos saw you as a test—a trial meant to strengthen his faith and reaffirm his commitment to his calling. But he couldn’t deny the unease you stirred in him, the questions you raised about his own humanity. 
You saw him as a challenge, a man who had built his life on principles you had long since abandoned. But as the days passed, you found yourself less interested in breaking him and more curious about understanding him.
Your worlds, so starkly different, began to orbit each other in a way that neither could fully control. And though neither would admit it, you were drawn to one another—not just by curiosity, but by the faint, undeniable pull of something neither of you fully understood.
Carlos found himself returning to La Rosa Negra more often than he would admit, even to himself.
He justified it as part of his mission—his duty to save those who had strayed farthest from grace. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t the smoky haze or the disillusioned patrons that drew him back. It was you.
Tonight, you were waiting for him, lounging at the same velvet chaise as though you’d expected his arrival. Your ruby-colored gown clung to you in all the right places, and your eyes sparkled with mischief as he approached.
“Back again, Padre?” You asked, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Starting to think you like it here more than you’d care to admit.”
Carlos stood tall, his expression calm despite the heat rising to his face.
“I will continue to go where I’m needed,” he replied firmly, clutching his Bible as though it were a lifeline.
“Needed,” you repeated, leaning forward slightly, your voice dripping with mockery. “And here I thought priests only stuck to the safety of their churches. But no, here you are, in the lion’s den once again. How noble.”
He ignored your tone, instead meeting your gaze with quiet resolve. “I’m here for you, Y/N,” he said simply.
Your laugh was soft and melodic, tinged with incredulity. “For me? Padre, you don’t even know me.” You gestured to the room around you. 
“What makes you think I’m any different from the others? Just another lost little soul for you to save?”
“You are different,” he said without hesitation, his voice steady. “You’re not like the others.”
You raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious now. “And what makes you so sure of that?”
“Because you’re not indifferent,” he replied, his words measured. “You challenge me. You question me. That tells me there’s a part of you that still cares—about truth, about meaning. Even if you hide it behind mockery.”
For a moment, your smirk faltered. The way he looked at you, with such earnestness, was disarming. But you quickly recovered, crossing your legs and leaning back with an air of practiced ease.
“Maybe I just like watching you squirm,” you say, your tone light but eyes probing. “After all, you’re so sure of yourself, so convinced you have all the answers. It’s fascinating, really.”
Carlos hesitated, unsure if you were taunting him or speaking honestly. 
“I don’t have all the answers,” he admitted quietly. “But I believe in something greater than this—greater than what you’ve settled for.”
“Settled?” You echoed, voice sharper now. “You think I’ve settled for this? Let me tell you something, Padre—I chose this life. I’m not some poor, helpless creature waiting for you to swoop in and save me.”
“I don’t believe anyone chooses this,” he said gently, his gaze softening. “Not truly. You’ve been hurt, abandoned, lied to—”
“Don’t,” you interrupted, your tone icy. “Don’t you dare act like you know me. You hide behind your faith, Carlos. You’ve built your whole life around it because it’s easier than facing the real world. You sit on your little moral high ground, judging the rest of us for living in the mess you’re too afraid to touch.”
Your words hit him like a physical blow, but he didn’t back down. “And you?” he countered, his voice rising slightly. 
“You hide behind this life, this persona you’ve created. You pretend it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care, but I see it in your eyes. You’re lost, Y/N. You’re searching for something, and you think you’ll find it here, in the validation of strangers.”
Your jaw tightened, and for the first time, you didn’t have a quick retort. The silence between the two of you was heavy, charged with tension that neither could fully articulate.
Finally, you stood up, your movements deliberate as you closed the small distance between you and Carlos.
“Maybe I am lost,” you say softly, your voice carrying an edge of vulnerability. “But at least I’m not lying to myself about who I am.”
Carlos met your gaze, his expression a mix of frustration and something else—something he couldn’t name. “You’re not as different from me as you think,” he said quietly.
You tilted her head, studying him. “Maybe not,” you admitted, a ghost of a smile crossing your lips. “But I think you’re more lost than I am.”
With that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone once again, his grip on the Bible tightening as he watched you disappear into the crowd.
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Carlos had always believed himself steadfast, unshakable in his faith.
His life had been one of service, guided by the tenets of scripture and the quiet assurance that he was walking the path of righteousness. But you had become a thorn in his conscience, a contradiction that burrowed deeper with each passing day.
He told himself that his feelings were not desire but pity, not longing but righteous concern. He prayed fervently, his whispered words to God growing increasingly desperate. 
“Lord, grant me strength. Let me see her as you do—a soul in need of salvation, nothing more.” Yet, no matter how many hours he spent in prayer, your image returned to him unbidden: the curve of your smile, the defiance in your eyes, the way you looked at him as though you could see the thoughts he tried so hard to suppress.
When he sought you out again, he told himself it was for your sake. You needed guidance, and he was obligated to provide it. This was his calling, his purpose. But when he saw you, lounging in your usual spot at La Rosa Negra, his heart betrayed him.
“Back for another sermon, Padre?” You teased as he approached, your white dress catching the dim light and making you seem almost otherworldly. Devil in disguise.
Carlos hesitated, gripping his Bible tightly. “I’m here because I care about your soul, Y/N. I can’t stand to see you waste your life like this.”
You laughed softly, a sound that sent an unwelcome shiver down his spine. 
“My soul? You’ve got quite the fixation on it, don’t you? But tell me, Carlos—” you leaned forward, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper, “—is it really my soul you’re worried about?”
His breath caught, and for a moment, he was struck silent. He forced himself to look away, focusing on the floor rather than her piercing gaze. “You’re trying to distract me,” he said, his voice strained.
“Distract you?” You tilted her head, smirk widening. “From what, exactly?”
He didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Instead, he turned on his heel and left, his chest tight and his thoughts a whirlwind.
But he couldn’t stay away.
The next time the two of you met, it was outside the club, late at night when the streets were quieter. Carlos had been walking, lost in thought when he saw you leaning against a lamppost, smoking a cigarette.
“Carlos,” you greeted him casually, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Didn’t think I’d see you out here. Shouldn’t you be in a church somewhere, praying for all our souls?”
“I pray for you,” he admitted, his voice low. “Every day.”
Your expression softened, but only for a moment. “You shouldn’t waste your prayers on me.”
“They’re not wasted,” he insisted, stepping closer. “I believe you can change, Y/N. I believe God has a plan for you if you’d only let Him in.”
“And what about you?” You asked, tone sharper now. “What’s God’s plan for you, Carlos? To spend your whole life saving all these sinners while pretending you’re not just as human as the rest of us?”
“I don’t pretend,” he shot back, his voice rising. “I’ve dedicated my life to something greater, something sacred.”
“And yet here you are,” you say, stepping closer, your gaze unwavering. “Standing here with me. Tell me, Padre, is this sacred?”
Carlos felt his resolve crumble as you closed the distance between you. He could feel the warmth of your presence, and smell the faint scent of your perfume. His heart raced, every instinct screaming at him to leave, to run back to the safety of his church and his prayers. But he didn’t move.
“You’re testing me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m not,” you replied, your voice soft now, almost tender. “I’m just being honest. Maybe it’s time you were, too.”
At that moment, the weight of his denial came crashing down. He didn’t just care for you as a priest cared for a wayward soul. He wanted you, desired you in a way that defied everything he had vowed to uphold.
“I can’t—” he began, but the words caught in his throat as you reached up, your fingers lightly grazing his cheek.
“You can,” you say, voice steady, almost daring.
And then, against every vow he had ever made, every principle he had sworn to uphold, he gave in.
His lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and restrained, as though some part of him still tried to cling to the man he was supposed to be. But the floodgates had opened, and there was no going back.
When you broke apart, the silence between them was deafening. Carlos stepped back, his chest heaving, his hands trembling.
“What have I done?” he whispered, his voice laced with anguish.
You looked at him, your expression unreadable. “You did what you’ve been wanting to do since the moment you saw me,” you said simply.
He stared at you, torn between shame and something he couldn’t name. “I… I need to go,” he said, turning and walking away before you could respond, the weight of his actions threatening to crush him with every step.
Carlos shut himself away in the small, dimly lit chapel that had become both his sanctuary and his prison.
The once comforting scent of incense now seemed suffocating, the flickering candles casting shadows that danced mockingly across the walls. He knelt before the altar, his hands clasped so tightly in prayer that his knuckles turned white.
"Forgive me, Father," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I have failed You. I have strayed from the path You set for me. I let her pull me into darkness... I let myself be weak."
The memory of your touch, your voice, your eyes—everything about you—played on an unending loop in his mind.
Each moment felt like a dagger, twisting deeper into his soul. He had succumbed to temptation, and now the weight of his sin felt unbearable. He had been called to be a servant of God, to lead others to salvation, and yet he had fallen, allowing her to taint him.
"No, not her," he muttered aloud, his voice trembling. "She is not to blame. It’s me. I allowed it. I let her in."
But even as he tried to take responsibility, a darker thought lingered in the corners of his mind. Had you been sent to test him, or to ruin him? Had you been a temptation laid in his path by the devil himself?
Meanwhile, you stood outside the chapel, your arms crossed tightly over her chest. You had waited for days, hoping Carlos would come to you, that he would at least confront the feelings you both knew existed. But instead, he had disappeared into this sanctuary, avoiding you like you were some kind of plague.
Finally, your patience snapped. You pushed open the heavy wooden door, the sound echoing through the stillness of the chapel. Carlos flinched at the noise, his head snapping up to see you silhouetted against the light.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice hoarse and strained.
“What am I doing here?” You repeated, your tone sharp and incredulous. You stepped closer, your heels clicking on the stone floor. “What are you doing here, hiding like a coward?”
Carlos rose to his feet, his expression torn between anger and despair. “I am seeking forgiveness,” he said, his voice trembling. “For what I’ve done—for letting you... letting this happen.”
Your eyes narrowed, and you took another step toward him. “Letting me? Is that what you think this is? That I’m some kind of devil sent to tempt you?”
“You don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. “This... this isn’t who I am. This isn’t who I’m supposed to be. I had a purpose, a calling. And now it’s gone.”
“Gone?” You snapped, your voice rising. “You think you’ve lost your purpose because of me? Because you kissed me? Don’t you dare put this on me, Carlos.”
“I’m not putting it on you!” he shot back, though his voice lacked conviction. “But you—” He paused, searching for the right words, but they escaped him.
“But what?” You pressed, your tone laced with hurt. “Say it. You think I ruined you, don’t you? That I’ve tainted you and ruined your chance at sainthood.”
Carlos looked away, his silence speaking volumes.
You let out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the heavy air. “You know what your problem is, Carlos? You’re so busy trying to be a saint that you’ve forgotten how to be human.”
He turned back to you, his face a mask of anguish.
“I gave up being human a long time ago. I chose this life because I wanted to rise above it, to serve something greater than myself. And now—” His voice cracked, and he looked away again.
“And now you’re realizing that you’re just as flawed as everyone else,” you finished for him, your voice softening slightly.
“Welcome to the real world, Carlos. It’s messy and complicated and full of mistakes. But that doesn’t make you any less of a person.”
He clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t understand what this means to me. I’ve dedicated my entire life to this path. To fail now—it’s unforgivable.”
“Unforgivable?” You stepped closer, your voice firm but not unkind. “Do you really think God is up there keeping a tally of every mistake you make? Do you think He’s going to damn you for being human, for feeling something real?”
Your words struck a chord, but Carlos shook his head, unwilling to let go of his guilt. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
You reached out, your hand lightly touching his arm. He flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. 
“Carlos,” you say, your voice gentle now, “I’m not your enemy. I never was. But you need to stop using me as an excuse to avoid your own doubts. You’re questioning things because you’re human, not because of me.”
He looked at you then, his eyes filled with conflict. “I don’t know how to move forward,” he confessed.
“Then stop trying to figure it all out at once,” you state simply. “Start with the truth. What do you want, Carlos? Not what you think you’re supposed to want. What do you want?”
The silence that followed was heavy, but for the first time, it wasn’t suffocating. It was a space for honesty, for something real to take root. And in that moment, Carlos realized that the answer he’d been running from was standing right in front of him.
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The sting of rejection lingers longer than you expected. For days after Carlos turned his back on you, his absence felt like a void in the chaotic rhythm of your life. 
You’ve always thrived on your ability to stay in control and to hold the upper hand in any interaction. But now, for the first time in a long while, you’re left grappling with an uncomfortable truth—you’re not as unaffected as you thought you were.
You pace the length of your apartment, the sounds of the city filtering through the windows—honking cars, muffled laughter, the occasional shout. Normally, the chaos outside feels like an extension of you, a reminder that life never stops moving. But tonight, it feels distant, irrelevant.
In the silence, memories creep in. The way Carlos looked at you—not with lust, like so many others, but with something deeper, something raw. 
The way his voice wavered when he spoke your name as if he were afraid of the power it held. You think about the way he walked away, his shoulders heavy with guilt, his words cutting sharper than they should have.
It’s not your fault, but I can’t be near you.
You scoff aloud at the memory, though the sound is bitter. “Coward,” you mutter, but the word rings hollow. 
Deep down, you know his rejection wasn’t just about you. It was about him, his faith, his struggle to reconcile who he wanted to be with who he actually was. Still, knowing that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
The truth is, Carlos made you feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time—seen. 
Not for your beauty, not for your confidence, not for the role you play in a world that thrives on appearances, but for something deeper, something more vulnerable. And now that he’s gone, that vulnerability feels like an exposed wound.
You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and for a moment, you barely recognize the woman staring back.
The black gown, the perfectly painted lips, the sharpness in your eyes—they all feel like a mask, a costume you’ve worn so long that you’ve forgotten what’s underneath.
“Who are you?” you whisper to your reflection, the question hanging heavy in the air.
The answer doesn’t come easily. You think about the choices you’ve made, the life you’ve built—a life of freedom, of defiance, of never letting anyone hold power over you. But now, for the first time, you wonder if that freedom has come at a cost. 
Have you been running all this time? And if so, from what?
Your thoughts drift back to Carlos, to the fire in his eyes when he spoke of his faith, of purpose, of something greater than himself. You didn’t agree with him—you still don’t—but you can’t deny the pull of his conviction.
It made you wonder if you’d been wrong to dismiss the idea of something more.
And yet, his faith had crumbled in the face of his desire for you. That should feel like a victory, but it doesn’t. Instead, it feels hollow, like you’ve won a battle you never wanted to fight.
You sit down on the edge of your bed, your head in your hands. The question lingers in your mind, persistent and unrelenting. What do you want, Y/N?
Not the fleeting thrill of the game, not the power you wield over others, not the endless nights of laughter that fade by morning. What do you truly want?
The thought scares you more than you’d like to admit because, for the first time, you’re not sure you know the answer.
The church is silent, save for the soft flicker of candlelight casting long shadows across the stone walls. It’s the same place where Carlos once knelt in devotion, where he first took his vows and pledged his life to God. But tonight, the sanctuary feels different—less holy, more human.
Carlos stands at the altar, his hands clasped in front of him, though not in prayer. His cassock hangs loosely on his frame, as if it no longer fits the man he has become. The weight of his inner turmoil is etched into his face, and for the first time, he looks like someone searching for answers rather than providing them.
The echo of footsteps draws his attention, and he turns to see you stepping into the church.
Your presence feels out of place here, yet oddly fitting, like a storm finding its way into a serene landscape. You're dressed simply, without the usual glamour that used to envelop you, but it only makes you seem more striking.
Neither of you speak at first. The distance between you feels vast, a chasm of misunderstandings, pain, and the undeniable connection that brought you here.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Carlos finally says, his voice quiet, almost reverent.
You walk closer, your heels clicking softly against the stone floor.
“I wasn’t sure I would,” you admit. Your gaze sweeps over the church, the stained glass windows filtering muted colors into the dim light. “But I needed to see you one last time.”
Carlos nods, his eyes fixed on you as if he’s afraid you might disappear. “I’ve been… thinking,” he begins, his words careful, measured. “About everything. About you. About me.”
He looks down, his voice faltering. “You changed everything, Y/N.”
Your lips curl into a faint, bittersweet smile. “I wasn’t trying to,” you say softly.
“I know,” he replies, meeting your gaze again. “But you did. I thought I understood faith. What it meant to be a man of God. I thought I knew who I was. But after you… I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
You step closer, the distance between the two of you shrinking. “And is that my fault, Carlos? Or is it because you were too afraid to question it before?”
He exhales sharply, the question cutting through him. “Maybe both,” he admits. “I convinced myself that my path was clear, that I was untouchable. But you showed me the cracks, the places I didn’t want to see.”
“And now?” You ask, your voice quieter, almost fragile.
Carlos looks around the church, his expression pained. “Now, I don’t know if I can call myself a man of God. I broke my vows. I doubted everything I believed in. And I—” His voice catches, but he forces himself to continue. “And I wanted you in ways I never should have. That’s not the man I was supposed to be.”
Your eyes soften, and you step even closer, close enough to touch him but holding back. “You’re not a saint, Carlos,” you say gently. “You never were. You’re just a man. And maybe that’s what you were running from all along.”
He stares at you, the truth of your words sinking in. For a long moment, neither of you speak, the silence filled only by the flicker of candlelight.
“What about you?” Carlos asks finally, his voice tentative. “What do you want now, Y/N? After everything?”
You look down, a faint tremor in your voice as you answer. “I want to stop running, too. I’ve spent so long living to defy everyone else, proving that I don’t need their approval. But I’m tired, Carlos. Tired of fighting battles that don’t even matter to me anymore.”
Your gaze lifts, meeting his, and for the first time, there’s no mockery or defiance in your expression—only vulnerability.
“I want something real,” you say. “Even if it’s not with you.”
Carlos flinches, your words hitting him harder than he expected. But he nods slowly, understanding. “I can’t give you what you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not even sure who I am anymore. But I hope… I hope you find it.”
You step forward, reaching out to touch his face lightly, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “And I hope you find yourself, Carlos,” you say softly. “Because whoever that man is, I think he’s worth knowing.”
You let your hand fall, and you both stand there for a moment longer, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. Then, with a faint, bittersweet smile, you turn and walk away, your footsteps echoing through the empty church.
Carlos watches you go, his heart heavy but strangely lighter than before. As the doors close behind you, he turns back to the altar, unsure of what lies ahead but knowing one thing for certain—his life will never be the same.
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Carlos left the church quietly, slipping away from the place that had been his refuge, his calling, and, ultimately, his prison. He carried little more than a small suitcase, the cassock folded inside as though packing away an old skin. 
For days, the road stretched before him, unfamiliar and daunting, each step taking him further from the life he thought he was destined to lead.
In the beginning, his prayers were desperate, pleading whispers in the night. “God, forgive me. Show me the way,” he’d mutter, clutching his rosary as though it could anchor him. But the words felt empty, bouncing back from a silence he couldn’t ignore. 
His faith, once unshakable, now felt fragile, brittle under the weight of his doubts.
He soon found himself in a coastal town far from Barcelona, where the salty breeze mingled with the scent of fresh bread from the local bakery. 
The town was simple, quiet, and unremarkable, but its stillness offered a balm to his restless spirit. He took a job at the bakery, learning to knead dough and shape loaves with hands that once held a Bible.
It wasn’t glamorous, but it was grounding.
For the first time in years, his work felt tangible, the ache in his muscles at the end of the day a comforting reminder of his efforts.
Carlos thought of you often, though the memories came with less pain over time. He recalled your sharp wit, the way your laughter could cut through the most solemn of moments, and the way your piercing eyes seemed to see through him. 
You had challenged everything he believed, not out of malice, but because you saw the cracks in the foundation he’d built his life on.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold, Carlos sat on a bench overlooking the sea.
A journal rested on his lap, its pages filled with reflections and unanswered questions. He thought of the arguments you’d shared, your voice sharp yet earnest as you tore into his defenses.
“You hide behind the church because it’s easier than facing the real world,” you’d said during one of your heated exchanges. “You call it faith, but it’s fear, Carlos. Fear of failure, fear of imperfection, fear of being human.”
At the time, your words had infuriated him, striking too close to the truth. Now, they lingered in his mind like an undeniable echo.
“You were right,” he murmured aloud, the waves crashing softly below. “I was hiding. I thought I was above the chaos, but I wasn’t. I never was.”
He closed his eyes, letting the breeze carry away his confession. For the first time, the weight of guilt seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile acceptance. He wasn’t the man he used to be, but perhaps that was the point.
In Barcelona, you wandered the city’s labyrinthine streets, your heels clicking against the cobblestones. The vibrant energy of the city felt muted now, a backdrop to your growing introspection. 
After Carlos left, you’d thrown yourself back into the familiar rhythms of your life—late nights, endless parties, and the intoxicating game of holding the world at arm’s length. 
But it wasn’t the same.
One afternoon, you passed a small, unassuming church tucked between two old buildings. Something about its modesty drew you in. The air inside was cool and quiet, the faint scent of candles and incense lingering.
You sat in the back pew, letting the stillness envelop you. It was the first time you’d stepped into a church without an agenda, without a performance to put on.
Carlos’ voice came back to you, unbidden, from one of your arguments. 
“You think rebellion makes you free, but it’s just another kind of prison,” he’d said, his gaze intense, his words cutting through your bravado.
At the time, you’d dismissed him with a laugh, but now, sitting in the quiet, you couldn’t shake the truth of his words. You weren’t free. You were running, hiding, masking the emptiness you were too afraid to face.
“Carlos,” you whispered, his name lingering on your lips like a prayer. You didn’t know where he was or if he ever thought of you, but you hoped he had found peace.
Months passed, and Carlos settled into his new life. The townspeople had accepted him as one of their own, though they never pried into his past.
His days were simple—early mornings at the bakery, evenings watching the waves, and nights spent reflecting.
One evening, after closing the bakery, Carlos sat at his small kitchen table with a pen and paper. He began writing a letter, not intending to send it, but needing to put his thoughts into words.
“Dear Y/N,
I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing, but I hope you’ve found what you’re looking for. I used to think meeting you was a test, something I had to endure to prove my faith. But now, I see it differently. You weren’t my downfall. You were the mirror that forced me to see myself clearly for the first time.
I’m still figuring out who I am without the church, but I think I’m starting to like this version of me. It’s messy and uncertain, but it’s real. Thank you for teaching me that, even if it was painful.
Take care, Carlos”
He folded the letter and tucked it away in a drawer, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Life wasn’t perfect, but it felt honest, and for now, that was enough.
Though your paths had diverged, you and Carlos carried pieces of each other forward.
His voice remained in your thoughts, not as a haunting, but as a reminder of the lessons you’d learned. You no longer lived solely to defy expectations, nor did he cling to the rigid ideals of his past.
In your separate journeys, you found something precious: the courage to face yourselves. And though you would likely never meet again, the bond you shared—tempestuous, transformative, and unforgettable—would remain a part of you both, a testament to the way two flawed souls could change each other forever.
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© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.
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nickeverdeen · 3 months ago
Text
Powder Eyes | Vi x fem!reader
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Pairings: Vi x reader (crush), Caitlyn x reader (sisters), Vi x Caitlyn (platonic)
Type of fic: Fluff
Warnings: None
Summary: Vi being soft with you is a pretty usual thing between the two of you and honestly it’s hard to believe that this Vi is the same one who punches concrete walls.
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Caitlyn’s house was always calm in the mornings—a stark contrast to the usual chaos of Piltover and the occasional uninvited guest from Zaun. Today, it was quiet, save for the soft hum of conversation coming from your bedroom, where you and Vi were spending time together.
Vi had become a frequent visitor since Caitlyn introduced her to your family. While Caitlyn’s focus was on their shared missions, Vi’s interest had quickly shifted to you, Caitlyn’s younger sister. Over time, your bond grew, transforming the occasional stolen glance into easy conversations and moments like this one.
You were sitting cross-legged on your bed, and Vi was sprawled across it, her head resting comfortably in your lap. Her shoes hung off the edge of the bed, careful not to touch the sheets—Vi wouldn’t dream of dirtying them, even if her boots were spotless.
“You’re a terrible storyteller,” you teased, laughing softly as Vi attempted to recount a story from her childhood in the Lanes.
“Terrible?” Vi scoffed, her powder-blue eyes narrowing playfully as she tilted her head back to look at you. “I’m painting a picture here, sweetheart. You just don’t appreciate my talent.”
You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Oh, trust me, I appreciate it. It’s just that half of the story doesn’t make any sense.”
Vi chuckled, her voice softening as she settled back down, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. She looked so different in moments like these—relaxed, open. It was a far cry from the tough, sarcastic fighter everyone else knew. Around you, Vi wasn’t just her usual self. She was softer, almost… puppy-like.
The two of you continued talking about everything and nothing—old memories, Caitlyn’s occasional bossiness, and the mess that was Piltover politics. Vi’s laugh came easily, the sound warm and genuine, and every so often, you caught yourself staring a little too long at her features: the curve of her smile, the way her blue eyes seemed brighter in the morning light.
You were too caught up in your thoughts to notice the way Vi’s expression shifted when she looked at you. Her tough exterior melted away entirely, leaving her gaze soft and adoring. If Caitlyn were here, she would’ve said Vi looked like a lovesick puppy—because that’s exactly what she was.
A knock on the doorframe made both of you jump slightly. Caitlyn stood there, her arms crossed, an amused look on her face.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Caitlyn said, her tone light as she stepped inside.
Vi sat up instantly, her reflexes kicking in as she moved off your lap. It wasn’t embarrassment—just a natural instinct to adjust her behavior around Caitlyn. You looked between them, confused for a moment, before Caitlyn crossed the room to grab a file from your desk.
“I forgot this earlier,” Caitlyn explained, holding up the report. “You two carry on.”
As she turned to leave, Caitlyn paused at the doorway, glancing over her shoulder. She caught sight of Vi’s expression—soft, wide-eyed, and utterly smitten as she looked at you. Caitlyn fought back a knowing smile and walked away without a word, closing the door behind her.
You glanced at Vi, noticing her still-slightly-dazed expression. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Vi said quickly, clearing her throat as she tried to shake off her obvious lovesick look.
Smirking, you gently pushed her back down onto the bed, guiding her head onto your lap again. Vi blinked, surprised, but didn’t resist.
“Relax,” you said, laughing softly at her bewildered expression. “You don’t have to sit up just because Caitlyn walked in.”
Vi grumbled something under her breath but let her body relax again. She tensed slightly when your fingers started running through her short, pink hair, but the feeling of your touch quickly soothed her. You played with the strands absentmindedly, twirling them between your fingers as you spoke.
“This okay?” you asked after a moment, glancing down at her.
Vi’s eyes fluttered open—powder blue and impossibly soft—and she gave a small nod. “Yeah… it’s good.” Her voice was quieter now, almost shy.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Vi allowed herself to fully relax. The tension in her shoulders eased, her breathing slowed, and she felt safe—something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
You didn’t notice the way her eyes stayed on you, tracing the curve of your smile as you continued talking. If you had, you might’ve realized just how deep her feelings for you went. But for now, you were blissfully unaware, content with the moment you shared.
And Vi? Vi was utterly, hopelessly in love.
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