#I never complain to her because she doesn’t care so it really really annoys me that she would assume I was complaining in the first place

[luveline]

I told my mam yesterday that I have a job interview on Monday, and today she’s acting like she had no idea which is fine cos I don’t actually expect her to listen to me, but when I said I already told you this she said “alright stroppy!” so I said I’m not being stroppy but I already told you I had one and she got really angry and was like well you’ll have to take the bus you can’t have a lift everywhere, let me tell you ONCE in a blue moon do I ask if they’ll take me somewhere cos mind you she can’t actually drive, but I hate asking because then it gets chucked back in my face. So I said no mam, I wasn’t stroppy, but the way you’re talking to me now and assuming I was in a bad mood because I said “I told you yesterday” has in fact put me in a bad mood. And she was like you could’ve fooled me, which doesn’t make any sense 😭 so am I stroppy or not? I hate asking her for a favour because she acts like a martyr every time but I WASNT even asking for a favour! And even more, in the last two months she’s had more than £500 off of me that she promised to give back but just hasn’t, so surely she should like that I’m going to a job interview so she can have more money off of me

[maskedbyghost]

You always find Simon in the same spot—sitting on his couch with a mug of tea in one hand, the TV on but the volume low, like he’s watching it just for background noise. He barely moves when you come in, just shifts his head a little like he was expecting you, even though you never text to say you're coming.

“And then she rolled her eyes at me,” you say as you drop down next to him, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Like I was the one being unreasonable for asking her to hold the door.”

Simon doesn’t react right away, which isn’t unusual. He lets a second or two pass, like he’s thinking it through, even though he probably made up his mind as soon as he heard your tone. Finally, he hums quietly and says, “She’s not worth your breath,” while reaching over to pat the top of your head in that way he always does.

You don’t even bother hiding how much you like that. You lean into his hand just a little, and for a moment you let the annoyance melt off your face.

It’s always like this between you and Simon. You walk in, already mid-rant about something that annoyed you during training or some dumb argument someone had in the mess, and he just listens. Or, well—he sits there while you go off, mostly quiet, only chiming in with a few words here and there.

But he always makes it clear he’s paying attention. The way his eyes shift to look at you when your voice tightens. The way he’ll hand you a blanket or a snack before you even ask. The way he remembers the tiny details you forget you even told him.

You joke sometimes that you adopted him. That you took in this emotionally unavailable soldier who barely likes people and decided that he’s your best friend now, whether he wanted that or not. He never complains. He never tells you to leave. Even when you steal his cookies or fall asleep on his couch, he just lets you stay.

He’s quiet, sure, but he’s also dependable in a way that makes everything feel easier when you’re around him. You can talk to him for hours and he won’t interrupt, won’t judge, won’t try to fix it unless it’s something he can fix. And when it is, he usually does—without making a big deal out of it.

So when you started seeing that guy from base, Simon didn’t say anything. You thought maybe he just didn’t care, or that he wasn’t the type to get involved in stuff like that. He didn’t ask many questions. Just nodded and said, “He treatin’ you right?” in that low voice of his that didn’t give much away.

You smiled and said yes, because at the time, it felt like the right answer.

He stayed the same after that. Still your go-to person for venting. Still the only one who ever made you feel like you could talk without holding back.

But every now and then, you noticed something shift. He wouldn’t look at you as much when you brought up your boyfriend. He’d change the subject quicker. And when you said something like, “he forgot our plans again,” Simon would just sigh and hand you tea or cookies or whatever he had nearby, like he didn’t want to say what was really on his mind.

You remember one night clearly, when you showed up outside Simon’s door after a long shift. You were quiet, which was rare, and you didn’t even try to hide the frustration in your eyes.

“He forgot again,” you mumbled, pulling your knees up onto the couch. “Said he’d pick me up, and then just... nothing. Not even a text.”

Simon didn’t say much in response. He just handed you the remote and tapped your shoulder once, like that was his way of saying you deserved better without actually having to say the words out loud.

But the breaking point came later. One night, you showed up to his room without even thinking, your eyes red and puffy, your hands trembling a little as you wiped at your face. He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t need to. He just stepped aside and let you walk in, like he’d been expecting you again, like he knew this was coming.

“He cheated,” you said, and the words felt so bitter and small in your mouth that you almost didn’t believe them yourself.

Simon pulled you into a hug before you could even finish the sentence. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to offer advice or tell you what you should’ve done. He just held you, solid and quiet, with one hand pressed between your shoulder blades and the other smoothing over your hair. You didn’t realize you were crying until your face was already buried in his shirt.

At some point, he moved you to his bed. You weren’t even sure how, but you ended up under his blanket, wrapped in warmth that didn’t come from the sheets, and you felt safer than you had in weeks. His voice was low when he whispered, “Don’t worry about it,” like he was promising to carry the weight of it for you.

You didn’t know it then, but he didn’t sleep that night. He stayed up until you were out cold, then got up quietly, left his room, and came back a few hours later like nothing happened. What you also didn’t know—what he would never admit unless you asked him directly—was that he had counted every single tear that rolled down your face. Every shaky breath, every time your chest stuttered with a sob. He remembered the number. Kept it in his head. Then found your ex and hit him that many times. One punch for every tear you cried.

A few days passed, and word started going around base that your ex hadn’t been seen. Missed duty. No one could get ahold of him. You didn’t ask Simon anything. You just looked at him across the mess hall, saw the way he was nursing a cup of tea with a blank expression and fresh tape wrapped around his hand, and something in your chest clicked into place.

You didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, and he looked back, and that was enough.

Later, after things calmed down, you found yourself back in his room. Same spot on the couch. Same blanket. Same you and Simon. But this time, out of nowhere, he said, “I’m in love with you.”

It wasn’t dramatic or emotional. He said it like it was just a fact—like he was finally telling the truth after hiding it for too long.

You blinked at him, not even sure you heard him right. “What?”

He shrugged a little, like it didn’t matter if you believed him or not. “Figured you should know.”

You didn’t know what to say right then. There was too much in your head. But a few days later, he took you somewhere quiet, away from base, with a folded blanket under his arm and your favorite cookies packed in a tin. He made tea and handed you the mug like he always did, and when you sipped it, it was just the way you liked it—strong, with that little bit of honey he adds even when you don’t ask.

You sat next to him, legs stretched out on the grass, shoulder pressed against his. After a while, you turned to look at him and said, “You’ve been looking at me like that for a long time, haven’t you?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Like what?”

“Like I’m your whole world.”

Simon didn’t answer right away, but the look on his face said more than words ever could. Then he reached over, patted your head like he always did, and said, “Yeah. That’s about right.”

--------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212

[p1astr81]

hii could you please write something with oscar x reader, where they are visiting his family in Australia and his sisters are basically are all the time with them and this irritates Oscar a bit but reader thinks is so so cute to see him with the girls because she maybe has all brothers who think she’s another boy. Seeing him being an older brother melts her heart. And he thinks it’s a bit funny because he was doing all of that just so they could leave the two of them alone. Totally not projecting 🙃😀

I’m not sure if this is what you were looking for I apologize if not😔

It was the off-season and Oscar was missing the nice weather so he booked the both of you tickets to visit his family in Melbourne.

He should’ve known he wouldn’t get any free time with you. Should’ve guessed it from the very moment his sisters decided to greet you and ignore him when you arrived.

They’d been attached to you since you arrived. You didn’t mind. You only had brothers so it wasn’t often you got to really feel like a sister. Oscar, on the other hand, felt a little irritated.

Now he sat with you on a sofa in the living room, you curled against his side, watching a movie. His sisters had dragged you from his bedroom, begging for you guys to join them. It was late in the afternoon, past dinner. You were getting tired and craving something sweet. “I really want some ice cream.” You said, head tilted back to peer up at him.

His hold on you tightened. “We don’t have any, but I can go get you some.” He offered.

“Could we go to that parlor down the road? They have good ice cream.”

Finally, an opportunity for you two to get some alone time—away from his sisters. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Nicole was sat on the other side of the room. He got up, standing at her side and said as quiet as he could, “y/n and I are going to go get ice cream.”

Apparently, not quiet enough.

“I want ice cream!” Mae chipped in. Then of course came Edie, and then Hattie.

Which is how he found himself driving his mom’s suv with four girls as his passengers, singing loudly to the music.

And acting as their butler after they’d put in their ice cream orders, chatting off to the side while Oscar waited by the serving counter.

“Mae,” he called, holding out her ice cream. She hadn’t heard him. “Mae.” He called again, still calm but louder this time.

You’d tapped her shoulder and redirected her attention. He gave her an annoyed smile while she plucked the cone from his hand.

His sisters weren’t home. He’d complained to Nicole about their neglect to give the two of you personal space, and she took them to the beach.

You were in the kitchen, making cookies together. He scooped the ingredients and you mixed everything together. Flour dusted your cheeks. He laughed with his arms around you.

And then the girls came home, spoiling his moment. “Ooh what are we making?” Edie said upon seeing you. He sighed as the girls crowded around you.

Hattie handed his phone to him, “can you put this on the charger for me?” She requested.

He wasn’t happy about it, but he did it anyway. You watched with a soft smile as he disappeared down the hallway to her room.

Mae unwrapped the chocolate bar—they didn’t have any chocolate chips handy so you asked her to chop the bar up into bits.

But she’d nicked her finger with the knife. Not badly, but there was a little blood. Oscar’s head snapped to her when he heard her hiss.

He took the knife from her hand, holding her hand in his and analyzing the cut. You watched as he eyed her with worry, wrapping her finger momentarily in a paper towel. He came back from the bathroom with a bandage in one hand and peroxide in the other.

“I’m gonna clean it just to make sure it doesn’t get infected. You can squeeze my hand if it hurts.”

The scene made you feel soft inside, seeing him be so careful with her. Your brothers had never treated you like that, only rough housed with you then laughed when you got hurt.

It was just meant to be you and him going shopping, but like every other time, his sisters just had to tag along. He wanted to say no, but you agreed before he could get a word out.

So now he was buying anything they wanted on the promise they’d leave you and him alone for your last 3 days in Australia. Thankfully, his sisters weren’t the type to abuse his generosity, so they weren’t trying to buy every item in the stores. Only those they really wanted.

You stayed on his arm while leaning over jewelry cases. “That one’s pretty.” You pointed to a necklace with a diamond heart dangling from the chain. The girls crowded around you, agreeing with you.

Oscar turned to the salesman, requesting the object. “Hey! I didn’t mean for you to buy it!” You looked at him like he was crazy. It was a near two thousand dollar piece. He just shrugged.

By the end of the night—when you were back at his house, curled up in his bed and dozing off—you offhandedly commented, “you’re gonna make a great dad.”

His hand froze on your back. “What do you mean?” He panicked. You couldn’t be- no, you were on birth control. There was no way-

“You’re such a great brother for your sisters, like with Mae when she cut her hand, and buying them stuff today to make them happy. I just know you’ll be the same way when he finally decide to have kids.”

The panic eased, and he laughed lowly. “I only did that today so they’d leave us alone the rest of the time we’re here.”

You twisted to meet his eyes. “And here I was thinking you were just so sweet.” You shook your head.

“No, this heart is ice cold, baby.” He joked.

You leaned up and kissed him, laughing against his lips.

[dirtyvulture]

The Maid - Part 3

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 3973

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: I am so glad everyone is enjoying this fic! Now we get to see who's guesses from Part 2 were correct...

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Things with Wanda have become increasingly difficult lately. Your temper inches shorter and shorter with every argument the two of you have, which seem to be almost every conversation now. After your night out with Natasha, which felt dangerously normal, you realized what you were missing with your own wife. But the two of you had been together for nearly a decade–surely there were bound to be rough patches, right?

“I have to work late tomorrow night,” you say as the two of you get ready for bed, and as soon as the words come out of your mouth you regret it.

“Late again? Really, Y/N?” Wanda shoots back. “I already made the reservation for our dinner. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Reschedule it?” you suggest, trying to hide your frustration. How many dozens of dinners (and anniversaries) had she stood you up?

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not doing that,” Wanda says, angrily climbing into bed and turning away from you. “If you can’t put the effort in to remember when we have dinner dates, then we’re not going to one.”

“You literally forgot our anniversary,” you respond, finally losing control of your temper.

“I did not forget,” she argues. “I had other plans that you forgot. And don’t use that tone with me. You’re not the one who should be annoyed right now.” Anger flares up inside you, but you hold your tongue. Arguing further with her would be pointless. You crawl onto your side of the bed and look over at your wife, balled up and small-looking under the covers.

You loved her. That was never a lie. But sometimes you wonder why you allowed her to cause you so much pain. Was it just to further prove your love to her? And how much more of it could you take?

***********************************************************************

After Natasha returns from picking up Wanda’s dry cleaning, she neatly hangs up the half-dozen dresses in the closet and begins dusting the house from top to bottom. It’s not an exciting chore, but due to the vastness of your home and the few people living in it, a lot of dust has accumulated and even she knows Wanda’s not exaggerating when she complains about her allergies acting up.

Natasha starts in your bedroom, carrying around a small stool to help her reach high places. She gently pats the dust off a plush teddy bear sitting on your dresser. She gets on her knees to brush the floorboards running along the perimeter of the room. Although the work is painfully dull, she finds satisfaction in the way her duster fibers turn grayer and grayer. She cleans the glass doors of the china cabinet with a special wipe, smiling at a little ceramic turtle perched on a shelf at eye level. She waltzes through the kitchen, which needs the least cleaning because she spends the most time there, but pauses to give special care to the rainbow-colored plastic cow looking out the window.

In the living room is a massive bookshelf that takes up an entire wall’s worth of space.Natasha doesn’t even know where to start, but she hops onto her stool and begins dusting the spines in every row. When she gets to the end of the fourth row, a title catches her eye: Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. She had read the book for the first time in its native Russian, and while it may not have been a child-friendly novel, it did bring back more fondful memories of her childhood.

She takes it off the shelf, surprised at its weight. It’s over 500 pages, but much heavier than she remembers. The front cover swings open and something big and metal falls out, nearly landing on her foot. Natasha gasps in surprise as she pulls her leg back, her eyes widening as she stares at the revolver on the floor.

She opens the book, finding a huge rectangle cut out of the center of the pages to house the weapon. Whose gun was this? Neither you nor Wanda struck her as physically violent people. Maybe it was for protection? 

The garage door rumbles open.

Natasha scoops up the gun with shaking hands and puts it back in the book, shoving it onto the shelf again. She grabs her duster and continues to dust the shelf.

“Natasha? Are you here?” Wanda’s voice rings out.

“In the living room! Good afternoon, Mrs. L/N!” Natasha responds, not turning around and staring at Crime and Punishment as if the gun will go off on its own.

“Why are you dusting our bookshelf?” Wanda asks. 

“I’m dusting the whole house,” Natasha answers. “Just want to make sure every area is clean–”

“You read?” Wanda interrupts.

“I can, yes.” Natasha has no idea where the conversation is going and her stomach twists in knots.

“I mean, do you read for fun?”

“Yes,” Natasha lies.

“You ever read Crime and Punishment?” 

Natasha just wants Wanda to leave her alone. “Yes.”

“A little advanced for you, don’t you think?” she says, and Natasha doesn’t even feel the need to defend herself from the cruel comment. She still hasn’t faced Wanda and wonders if she’s holding another revolver pointed at her back.

But Wanda is still waiting for an answer, so Natasha draws herself taller and says, “I’m Russian. I read it in high school.”

“Of course.” Wanda shifts her weight and the floor creaks. Natasha tenses and closes her eyes. “Well, I pay you to clean my house, not read my books. So keep your hands off my copy. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Footsteps indicate Wanda is going to another room.

Natasha has never been genuinely scared of Wanda until now.

***********************************************************************

It’s laundry day in your household, another chore Natasha completely despises due to the sheer amount of bedding you and Wanda seem to accumulate. Wanda insists that she wash the sheets in every guest room, despite the fact that you and her only sleep in the master bedroom. While Natasha is certain she knows the real reason, she overheard her telling you it was to prevent bed bugs. 

Still, Natasha knows better than to question your wife and falls into the routine of stripping every bed, washing one load at a time, and redoing all the beds. The laundry machine is so noisy, she doesn’t hear the garage door open, nor the footsteps down the foyer. She doesn’t listen to music while she works, afraid Wanda will accuse her of being distracted, so she hums the soundtrack to Mamma Mia. 

When the next load finishes, Natasha gathers up the bedding in her arms, almost smothered by the heat from its tumble in the dryer. She precariously walks up the stairs, trying to remember which bedroom the sheets are from, when she hears a thump from the master bedroom.

Natasha freezes. She thought she was alone in the house. Maybe you had snuck by while she was in the laundry room, and clearly she didn’t learn her lesson from the last time she walked in on you and Wanda to stay away. Heart pounding against her chest in anticipation, Natasha inches towards the door and peers through the crack.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me,” Wanda moans, followed by the repetitive banging of the headboard against the wall. Natasha shifts around to get a better view of the room, straining to see what’s going on. She catches a glimpse of Wanda on her knees, moving in and out of her view, someone holding onto her waist from behind. 

“I want you to put a baby in me,” Wanda pants, and her partner grunts in response.

While the two of you had no children that Natasha was aware of, she wonders if that was an intentional decision or perhaps you two were waiting for a better moment. Kids would certainly give you a reason to stay with Wanda, and maybe that was exactly what she was planning. 

Natasha hates the way she keeps watching, wanting more material to fuel her never-ending fantasy of being betrothed to you.    

“Honey? Are you here? I’m home!”

“I’m upstairs!” Natasha calls. She hears you tramp up the steps as she patiently waits for you in the bedroom. You poke your head through the door first, the top few buttons of your shirt undone, and although the exhaustion from work is evident on your face, you perk up when you see her.

Especially with what she’s wearing, or lack of it.

“I hope you had a good day at work, baby,” Natasha says, turning around to face you. She’s wearing the red lingerie set you bought her for her birthday. It hardly leaves her assets to the imagination and she can feel your gaze lingering on her body. She’s never felt so appreciated or wanted before.

“It was a good day that’s only getting better.” You step into the bedroom, hastening to take off your clothes. Natasha comes over to help you and you easily scoop her up in your strong arms, and she wraps her legs tightly around your hips. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” you whisper, your mouth hot on her neck as you nip at her skin.  

You walk forward until Natasha feels her back bump into the vanity. You rest her on the edge and spread your legs to jerk yourself to full hardness. Natasha struggles against the impatience in her core, wanting nothing more than for you to fill her to the brim. She watches the veins in your muscular arm pop out as you move your hand back and forth faster, your cock swelling to its large size.

Finally, Natasha cannot wait any longer. “I need you,” she begs, swatting your hand away and sliding forward, ready to practically fall on your dick. 

“Careful, baby,” you warn with a chuckle, gripping onto her thighs and stepping forward to find the right angle to insert yourself. 

Natasha sighs in relief when you enter her, holding onto your shoulders in case you get any ideas of pulling out too far. Her walls clench around you tightly, drawing a moan from you and you press your hips forward until your whole cock stretches her out. Natasha loves how much you fill her, how you soothe the empty throbbing in her. She must be the luckiest woman in the world to have you like this.

The vanity bumps against the wall with every thrust. Natasha squeezes her thighs tighter around your waist, trying to hold you in as long as possible. She runs her hands up and down your broad back, digging her nails into your shoulder blades when your thighs meet hers.

“When are you gonna put a baby in me?” she asks, her lips crashing heatedly onto yours.

You grunt with another deep thrust.

“You would look so beautiful carrying my child.”

Natasha’s blood goes cold when she hears Wanda’s partner. Because it’s not your voice.

It’s Vision’s.

She angles herself to see better and feels sick to see her stomach when she sees your wife and Vision tangled on the bed together. She can’t bear to watch another second and flees down the stairs, the bedsheets still in her arms, not even caring if they hear her. 

She has to find a way to tell you. That was the least you deserved.

***********************************************************************

You stand in the dim hallway, watching as Wanda whips around, grabbing her coat and Louis Vuitton purse. “Where do you think you’re going?” you ask.

“I’m not allowed to leave the house now?” she bites back, not even looking at you.

“It’s Friday night,” you point out.

“So?” 

“Friday nights are our nights,” you stress, and Wanda finally looks at you when you raise your voice. “It’s been that way for years, unless you’ve been so bored of me you haven’t noticed.”

“You can survive without me for one night,” she shoots back. “I have a dinner night with the girls–”

“Don’t go,” you say, your tone changing from anger to pleading. “Please. We hardly spend any time together since I started the new job here and–”

“That’s not my fault,” Wanda clips. “That was your decision. Moving here was also your decision, in case you forgot.” You don’t miss the way she stresses the blame on you. “You thought it would be better for your business, and you’re still in the red. I gave up my old friends and relationships to be here with you, and then you have the audacity to act like this is my fault.”

“I asked if you wanted to stay, and you said you were fine with moving,” you remind her, although you are uncomfortable at the truth of her words.

“I said I was fine moving because I thought it’d make you happy,” Wanda says. “But it looks like out of the two of us, I’m the only happy one here.”

You know it’s wrong, but you can’t help but be frustratingly jealous of your wife. Even waking up every day is now a struggle for you. You’re buckling under the pressure of work, unable to meet the deadlines or find the capital to pay your mounting debts. The only person you have to support you is Wanda, but she’s always off partying with her new friends or going to some made-up meeting meant to give her a false sense of significance. You’ve never felt lonelier, and it scares you that the only person you have may be slipping away.

“I’ll be back tonight.” Wanda whips out to the garage and clearly doesn’t want to hear any more protest from you. You stagger back and collapse onto a sofa, holding your head in your hands and feeling a burning sensation in your eyes.

Natasha peeks around the corner of the kitchen, wondering if you remember that she’s still here. “Y/N? Is everything okay?” she asks.

“No,” you say, forcing yourself to laugh. “I’m sorry if you heard any of that. That was very unprofessional of us.”

“It’s okay.” Natasha inches out so you can see her. You’re rubbing your eyes and she’s startled to realize you’re crying. Not knowing what to do, she retreats into the kitchen, grabbing a handful of rambutans from the bottom drawer of the fridge and a box of tissues and brings them to you.

You laugh when you see her offerings. You pat the sofa cushion next to her to indicate she is welcome to join you. “Have you had one of these before? I can show you how to eat them.” You peel off the furry red exterior, revealing a pearl-colored center. “You just eat this part. It tastes like a grape.”

Natasha takes one and follows your example. When she bites into the center, the taste is not as exotic as she expected but quite mild, reminding her of an oversized, fleshy grape. “It’s pretty good,” she says.

“My favorite.” You peel open another one, leaving the exterior on a pile on the table.

Natasha has another one and anxiously looks around the room, as if Wanda is still in the house. “Y/N, I need to tell you something,” she finally has the courage to say, heart pounding in her chest.

“Yes?” There’s a soft crunch as you bite through your rambutan. 

“Wanda’s cheating on you with Vision,” Natasha blurts out, with no build-up whatsoever.

You are completely silent, chewing the fruit as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever eat. 

“I saw them together in bed yesterday.” Natasha now realizes how foolish she sounds. What if you didn’t believe her? What if you thought she was lying in order to get you for herself? She could’ve taken a picture (as weird as that would’ve been) to provide actual proof. 

“I know,” you say, to Natasha’s shock. “I know she’s cheating on me with Vision.”

“You do?” Natasha is stunned. She wonders how long you’ve known, and why you’ve never acted out on it.

“She’s cheating on me with half the fucking neighborhood.”

***********************************************************************

One month earlier…

“Need a hand?”

“No, I think I’m good, thanks!” You roll out from under your car, your arms and face covered in grease and oil. A skinny man stands on the sidewalk, surveying your propped-up car on the driveway.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks.

“Not sure,” you respond, reaching for a rag in your tool bag and wiping off your face. “It won’t start though, so I’ll probably have to get it towed to the shop.” 

“Need a lift?”

“Uh…” You glance back at your empty house. Wanda was out until nightfall, although you wouldn’t put it past her to be gone until tomorrow. Despite the brand-new house the two of you had just moved into, she didn’t seem to want to spend much time in it.

“It’s no trouble,” the man insists. “I live over at the end of the street. You can call me Vision.” He comes forward to shake your hand. 

“Y/N,” you introduce. “Well, I’d really appreciate it. We just moved here and my wife’s out of town right now, so I don’t have many friends I can call on here yet.”

Vision waves off your comment. “You have neighbors! That’s what we’re for, right?”

You call a tow truck and join Vision in his purple Camaro with a yellow racing stripe along the center of its hood to tail your vehicle to the shop.

“What do you do for work?” you ask, genuinely impressed with his sports car. He didn’t seem like the type to own one.

“Oh, I’m retired,” he says, effortlessly shifting the gears and the vehicle purrs in response.

“Really?” He hardly looked a few years older than you.

“Corporate life just wasn’t for me,” he says. “It paid very well though, so I retired early and bought the house out here. It’s just me though, never found the right person to settle down with.”

“It’s not for everyone,” you admit, because sometimes you wonder if you even found the right person.

***********************************************************************

After the mechanics determine your car needs an overnight stay to repair, Vision drives you back home. He drops you off and speeds down the street to his own. You find him to be a little quirky, but harmless. You head inside for a much-needed shower. When you’re done, you wrap a towel around your waist and step into the bedroom to find some clothes. You pause when the front door creaks open. 

Excited to greet your wife, you rush out to say hello from the top of the stairs, but stop in your tracks when you realize she’s brought someone in.

“Oh, Y/N isn’t home,” Wanda says, her voice carrying through the foyer.

“This house is huge!” It’s Steve. Your heart bangs against your chest and you retreat to the bedroom, unsure where to hide. The closet seems like a decent spot, and you nestle in between your hanging jackets as you hear Wanda and Steve stomp up the stairs together. You peek out through the crack in the door.

“Ours was built first, but it looks like this one has a lot of improvements that we could’ve used,” Steve goes on.

“Yes, yes, it’s very nice,” Wanda says. They walk into your bedroom, Wanda behind him with a mischievous glint in her eye you recognize all too well. “I wish Y/N could be around more,” she continues, and you fight the urge to burst out of the closet. “Like you said, it’s such a big house and it feels so lonely in it without another body to keep it warm.”

You see Steve’s gaze travel along the walls and over your furniture. To his credit, he does seem genuinely impressed with your home. He always struck you as a simple man, maybe even a little bit ignorant at times. But now you were about to see if his ignorance was true or an act.

Wanda approaches him so closely you’re sure her body is rubbing against his. 

“Y/N isn’t here, but maybe you can keep me company for a while?”

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” Steve jerks away from Wanda when she puts her hands on his hips. 

“We can be quick,” Wanda insists, taking off her jacket. “No one has to know–”

“Wanda, stop it,” Steve says, sounding angry. “I have a wife and kids at home and you’re married to Y/N–”

“So?” Wanda replies, and it makes your stomach clench with how dismissive she is. “I’ve been married to Y/N for four years and I’ve been cheating since day one.” She shrugs. “Honestly, the only reason I settled down is for the thrill of it.” She holds her hand up, the wedding ring you gifted her with three months’ salary glinting in the light. “It’s much more exciting to get what you’re not supposed to have, right?”

“You’re disgusting,” Steve says. “Stay away from me and my family.”

He hurries out of the bedroom, but Wanda doesn’t go after him at first. She puts her jacket back on and admires her reflection in the mirror, clearly a little frazzled by Steve’s rejection. How many people hadn’t rejected her? You always had a hunch, but had never heard Wanda admit it outloud before. How could you be so stupid this whole time?

Your body starts to vibrate with rage and you accidentally knock a jacket off its hook. While the jacket falls soundlessly to the floor, you can’t see well enough to catch the hanger and it lands with a quiet thump on the carpet. You look through the crack, holding your breath as Wanda’s head whips towards the closet. 

The next few seconds are so tense you want to vomit.

But then Wanda turns back to her reflection, fluffing out her hair, and leaves the bedroom.

***********************************************************************

Your paranoia kicks in like a drug that won’t let you rest. You buy cameras and sprinkle them all around the house, in the trinkets and knick knacks Wanda insisted on showcasing in every room. The teddy bear on your dresser in the bedroom. The ceramic turtle in the china cabinet in the living room. The plastic cow on the windowsill of the kitchen window. You monitor them religiously, but it doesn’t take long for more evidence to show up.

Vision is the most frequent offender, visiting during your long nights at work or sometimes in the middle of the day. Steve never sets foot on your property again, although sometimes the camera in the potted plant by the front door picks up the conversation of Wanda trying to convince him to come over. As nice as Steve was to turn down your wife’s advances, he never came to tell you what she had tried to do with him either.

There are some visitors you don’t even recognize. And Wanda isn’t a stranger to women either. She brings over Agatha, her supposed HOA nemesis, and many of the ladies who would greet you so kindly and fawn over you every time they saw you working in the front yard. You would bet money that she was also fucking some of her girlfriends on their trips away.

And now you have it all on camera, your wife fucking multiple strangers in your own home. The proof didn’t make you feel better; in fact, it made you feel worse. All that time, effort, and money you had spent trying to cultivate the perfect relationship with her when she would turn around and fuck the first thing that looked at her. 

It made you so angry you couldn’t see straight. But you knew you couldn’t act hastily. You would formulate the perfect plan to get out of the marriage and leave Wanda behind, even if it meant leaving her for dead.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Whomp whomp. So...was it who you expected? Or worse? 🤭And I think we collectively owe Steve an apology.

Next part is here!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[enzosbabyangel]

Can you do more stepdad!fred where fred was fed up with your constant complaining while your mother was shrugging it off (btw they were in the park or smth, your choice:D) and with that, fred excused the two of you by "getting what you want" but instead fucking you dumb somewhere so you can learn a lesson to stop complaining. Jsbdjdjhd can i also request fred calling her bunny when theyre alone? Thats all

LUV YOUR STORIES I CANNOT

lots of love- lvkllrxx

ཐི⋆♱⃓⋆ཋྀ Daydreaming about being brat tamed by Stepdad!Fred…

cw: 18+!, mdni, bratty!reader, large age gap, cheating, public sex, unprotected p n v, spanking, hair pulling, overstimulation, slight anal play, Fred forces reader to keep her panties off afterwards hehe

a/n: Thank you babbyy ! you’re so sweet ily 💞 Hope you liked this cause i had a lot of fun writing it ! But now WHY did it take me an arm and a fucking leg to write this… i’m so sorry bby ☹️💞 The end is a tad bit rushed because i really really wanted to get this out already !! Idk how i feel about this one 😕

You had been a brat all day. Constantly complaining to your mom and step dad all because they didn’t let you go to the mall with your friends and instead forced you to go to some stupid fair with your younger sister Linney. For some ‘family bonding time’ as Fred put it.

“It’s not fair!” “Just because Linney wants to come doesn’t mean i have to!” “I need new lipliner!” “Linney ruined my blush so i need to get more.” “How come you never force Linney to do stuff she doesn’t like?” “I’m not some baby who enjoys sitting around at festivals and eating garbage junk food all day!” “You guys are so annoying.” “I’m not doing that.” “No Linney do it yourself.” “No i am NOT doing that, i didn’t even want to bloody come here.” “Can we go on that ride?” “What do you mean no?” “Because Linney can’t go on it? Are you serious?!” “I’m just going to leave unless we go on that ride.” “Mom Linney is twelve she can wait by herself for a minute.” “No. I told you i wasn’t moving unless we go on that ride.”

All that was all Fred had been hearing the entire day. You’re constant pestering and complaining. He was getting sick of it, whereas your mom was just shrugging it off and giving into what you want, which just ticked Fred off even more.

“Fine. Go on the ride.” Your mother dismissed. Shaking her head slightly at your attitude. All she wanted was for you to shut up already.

Fred hated the fact your mom gave in. In his mind you didn’t deserve to go on the stupid ride with all your attitude today. But what he hated even more was your bratty, smug grin as you heard your mom’s words. Infuriatingly twirling around and rushing to the ride.

“You really think she deserves to go on the ride she wants with all her attitude today?” Fred asked your mom with crossed arms, waiting to hear your mother’s side and her reason for her decision.

“We’ll deal with it later.” Your mother sighed while searching in her purse for her card. “Maybe if she gets some time alone she’ll calm down.” She explained before looking towards Fred and giving him a small, slightly tired smile. “Besides, she had a point. Not fair that Linney gets to have all the fun.”

Fred hummed in response, expression softening slightly at her explanation. Not agreeing but appreciating her determination to keep things fair. But Fred knew damn well that your attitude won’t magically disappear. And he knows just how to get you back in check- even if ‘unethical’ in some ways.

And sure enough, you weren’t pleased and attitude didn’t dwindle even after going on the ride. Instead you were now nagging about wanting bloody Dubai Chocolate and Strawberry Milk.

“Look- that food truck over there has some drinks! Ooo Strawberry milk? Can we get some? please!” “I don’t care about the water can’t we just get some?” “Oh! And Dubai Chocolate!” “So what if it’s expensive? We’re at a festival!” “Ugh this sucks..” “No, you only get what Linney wants.” “I don’t care, i’m done talking.”

God you were just being insufferable now. Choosing now to sit at a bench, scrolling on your phone with your free arm resting under your breasts. Pushing the flesh up naturally. Ignoring both Fred and your mother as if they didn’t exist. A part of Fred even started to think that you were doing this on purpose, just for some of his attention.

But Fred wasn’t stupid, he knew just how to get you to shut your mouth for the rest of the day. Executing his plan under the guise of ‘Getting you Dubai Chocolate and Strawberry Milk’.

Needless to say, when you ended up uncomfortably pushed onto the sink in the washroom, legs pushed up while your neck craned at an uncomfortable position as you watched Fred’s hand run up and down his cock, curves of the sink stabbing into your flesh, you knew that you weren’t getting what you wanted.

“Been a real brat today.” Fred hummed while he didn’t even bother looking at you. “Don’t even know if you deserve my cock.” He tsked.

“Pleaseee,” You pouted, looking up at him with wide, begging eyes. “Promise i won’t complain anymore, jus’ want your cock.” You whined, wiggling your hips slightly to try and urge him on.

You knew that realistically you didn’t need to beg, that Fred would give you what you want either way, but why not play along anyways?

Fred scoffed, finally looking up at you as he cocked a brow and spoke almost mockingly at you. “Yeah i know, been wanting a lot of stuff today. Why should i give you what you want? hm? Probably been acting like a brat all day just for this.”

You let out another whine, batting your lashes at him as you ignored how your pussy clenched around nothing at his tone of voice. “Please, i promise. Pinky promise.” You muttered, holding back a bratty grin that was desperate to form on your face at Fred’s call out.

“Yeah?” Fred asked, cocking a brow slightly before running the tip of his cock along your slick with arousal pussy. Eliciting a gasp from your mouth as you became even more eager. “Better keep that promise or i won’t touch you for a week.”

You hummed, eagerly nodding your head. Holding the backs of your knees closer to your body. “Promise!” You repeated, watching as Fred stepped closer towards your body. Pussy clenching around nothing in anticipation.

Freds left hand moved to rest on your thigh, right hand positioning himself at your entrance. “Better stay quiet, brat. Don’t want people to hear us.” He said before pushing in, his eyes trained on your face. Watching as your lips parted in a silent moan and breath caught in your throat.

Fred hands wrapped around to the front of your thighs, pulling your legs out of your grasp. His pace immediately started as slow but deep thrusts. Every one of his thrusts pushing your body uncomfortably into the faucet of the sink, but you didn’t care.

Moans spilled from your lips as he gradually started increasing his pace. Biting your lip to try and keep yourself quiet. “Shit…” You let out as you cocked your head to the side. Eye’s squeezing shut as you enjoyed the pleasure.

Fred, however, didn’t appreciate your words nor moans. He sped up his pace and brought a hand up to cover your mouth roughly. Your eyes darting open and looking up at him while he ticked his tongue. “No words, nothing. I don’t want to hear a thing from you. Had enough of your voice today.”

You whined against his palm but listened nevertheless. Clenching around him at the cold and sternness in his voice.

The only sounds that echoed in the dingy park washroom was your occasional whines, Fred’s grunt and wet ‘claps’ of skin slapping against skin. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge, and when the man above you started rubbing rough circles on your clit you came undone. Gasp escaping your lips and toes curling as you jerked into his touch, moans shamelessly spilling from your lips.

Fred wasn’t far behind you, pulling out after a couple more sloppy thrusts. A singular, low moan falling from his lips. Sticky, thick strings of his cum landing on your stomach.

You sucked in breaths as you came down from your high. The only sounds in the small, dirty room now being of the two of you’s pants as you guys basked in the afterglow. Your peace, however, didn’t last long as you got, easily, flipped over. A ‘humph’ of breath escaping you instinctively as you landed on the sink again, this time on your stomach as your legs dangled down.

You let out a sound of question, not even fully processing the change of position before you sucked in a breath, feeling the tip of Fred’s cock run over your overstimulated pussy folds.

Craning your neck back to look at Fred, You whined. Pathetically kicking your legs in refusal as you spoke. “S’no more !” You protested, pouting. “Already came..”

“And?” Fred said simply. His tone and words uncaring as he pushed your face back down into the sink, ignoring whines of protest that escaped your lips. “This is supposed to be a punishment, you really thought i was gonna let you get away with your behaviour with just a quick fuck?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, sucking in a breath as he ran his tip along your puffy ‘n sensitive folds. “So just shut up. I still don’t wanna hear a peep from you.” He said sternly before pushing back in, feeling overwhelming against your overstimulated, plush walls. You moaned against the cold surface of the sink as Fred quickly set a quick pace. Your body feeling overwhelmed with a mix of pain of pleasure.

A firm slap was placed to the flesh of your ass, Fred’s larger hands squeezing the now red, plump flesh. “Listen to you..” He started, almost humming his words as he pulled your cheeks apart. “Moaning so loud for someone who didn’t wanna continue.” He chuckled, and then a plop of cool spit fell just above your tight, clenching around nothing ‘n virgin asshole.

You gasped when you felt his thumb rub his own spit around your asshole. Wanting to speak but being rejected before you could even get your words out. “Don’t. It’s a punishment remember?” And immediately after that he started pushing. His finger desperately trying to push into your virgin asshole.

It was embarrassing, how hard Fred was right now. He’s always dreamed of doing this and eventually more- stuff your mother would never let him do to her.

“That’s it bunny.” He hummed, watching with hooded eyes and arousal induced shaky breaths. Smirking as your pussy clenched around him both at the unusual feeling and praise.

In the back of your head you were wondering, ‘was this really a punishment? or just an excuse to stick his fucking thumb in my fucking ass?’. But you knew better than to say it out loud, fully aware of how mean Fred can truly get with his ‘punishments’.

And when he finally pushed past your refusing muscle he curled his thumb upwards, groan leaving his lips at the sight and the squeak that escaped your lip. Speeding up his thrusts while he shallowly thrusted his thumb against your walls.

“You’re squeaking like a bunny.” He grinned, looking up from your ass to admire your messed up, shaky and sweaty form. “You like that?” He asked and biting back your pride, you nodded. A smug chuckle leaving his lips before he pulled his thumb back.

“Knew you would.” He grinned and leaned down. His hand coming up to wrap around your throat and pull you up to make your back meet his chest half way. Holding your face up with his free hand to make you look at yourself in the mirror. Ruined mascara, spit spreading the colour of your lipgloss down your chin, tear streaks visible as they erased the cream blush that was decorating your cheeks.

“Look at how much of a slut you are for your mother’s husband, and your stepdad.” He teased. His eyes scanning over your ruined makeup with a smug expression. The pads of his fingers pushing uncomfortably into the flesh of your cheeks.

“Yeah!” You just agreed through moans. Too fucked dumb to properly comprehend them. Your hands gripping the cold surface of the sink. “I’m gonna cum!”

Fred just tsked at your words, chuckling in amusement before letting go of your neck and face. Leaning back up as he sped his thrusts up. “Fucked dumb already.” He mused with a smug smirk. Giving your ass a harsh smack as he felt your legs shake against him.

Your moans were loud when you finally came, kicking your legs back as you panted. Fred hissed at the feeling of your walls convulsing around his cock, pulling out just as he came. He made sure to let his cum land straight on your puffy and used folds.

Your body went limp against the cold surface once you finally came down from your high. Legs still slightly shaking as they dangled down.

Fred however, just smirked again as he came down from his high. Looking at your pretty folds decorated in his cum, using the head of his cock to spread his own cum around before stuffing himself back in his pants.

You didn’t even pay attention to your surroundings as Fred fixed himself up. Your attention was only brought back to reality when you saw him grab your panties from the corner of your eye and stuff them into his pocket. Slurring out your words as you finally managed to lift your upper body up. “S’what are you doing?”

Fred hummed as you spoke, dropping a bit of hand sanitizer onto his hands. His tone casual as if he didn’t just fuck you dumb and had your panties in his pocket. “You can walk around without them, part of your punishment.” He said simply before adding; “And don’t clean yourself. If you want to clean something clean the sink you made a mess of. It’s up to you to act normal out there.”

That was all he said, ignoring how you immediately went to protest. Simply walking out of the bathroom. Fucking asshole..

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . written by enzosbabyangel, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

[cellophanejpeg]

tell me, what's your size? | s. hanta

s: when a night in with your best friend turns into something more than just watching a shitty tv show, you start rethinking the friendship status of your relationship.

w: explicit sexual content, blowjobs, mentions of gossip girl lol

n: betaread by @jemifis 💕 read on ao3

previous | next

“This show is so stupid,” Sero says with a mouthful of popcorn, making you laugh.

“Oh, I know you love it,” you answer, nudging his shoulders.

“Aren't these characters supposed to be sixteen?!”

“Yeah, well.” You shrug.

“Why does a sixteen year old boy suddenly own a strip club?”

“It’s just a dumb show, Hanta.”

“And Vanessa is so annoying,” he continues, “she’s only getting in the way of Serena and Dan.”

You laugh, shaking your head. For someone who said he didn’t like Gossip Girl , he sure does care a lot about it.

“I mean, I feel her,” you say, grabbing more popcorn to eat, “if my childhood best friend got a girlfriend, I’d–”

You stop yourself, realizing you almost spilled the biggest secret of your life.

“You’d what?” He gives you a teasing smile and you shake your head quickly.

“Nothing,” you say, returning your attention to the television. “It’s just a stupid show, anyway.”

Sero scoffs, scooping more popcorn from the bowl sitting in the middle of you two. You sneak a peak and watch the veins of his forearms as he brings the snack to his lips and licks the salt in there. His back is curved and he’s wearing a loose t-shirt, the same one you keep in a drawer in your bedroom in case he decides to show up and spend the night.

A scenario that has happened many times before.

However, it’s different this time. It’s been a couple of weeks since you had sex with him, and it only intensified your feelings for him. You can’t stop noticing the small details about him, like the way he bites the corner of his bottom lip when he’s focused on something in a very adorable way, or the way his hands wrap around the steering wheel when he drives. How his throat bobs when he has a drink, or how his chest looks in his skin-tight hero suit.

Small things that turn you on.

Sero kept his promise, though. He promised your friendship wouldn’t be ruined and it would be like nothing had happened. And, the next day, when you woke up at his place, wearing a big shirt of his, he made you breakfast and you talked about anything other than the night you spent together. While you’re glad things didn’t change, you got this feeling deep in your guts.

Or better, in the middle of your legs.

You want to do it again. Your first time was perfect, nothing to complain about. But you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about the many other positions and things you want to try. But the subject never came up and now it’s been three weeks, and you’d feel awkward if you did talk about it.

“A picture lasts longer, you know,” Sero suddenly says, making you jump back to reality. A nervous laugh escapes your lips and you turn your gaze back to the television, “What’s wrong?”

You shrug, “Nothing.”

Sero narrows his eyes, watching your profile in the dimly lit room. The blues and yellows from the TV reflect on your skin, giving you a special glow. You look beautiful like this, he thinks, no make up, dressed in just your pajamas. The spaghetti strap of your top falls off your shoulders and he has to hold himself not to put it back in its place. Because if he does, he won’t be able to get his hands off you.

Oh, how he missed the feeling of your skin against his. Your lips on his, your fingers gripping him tightly, your hot breath on his ear…

He swallows hard, clutching the bowl of popcorn tighter to hide his sudden erection. You look back at him with an amused smile.

“A picture lasts longer, you know,” you mirror his words, mocking his voice. When Sero doesn’t laugh, your smile fades away, “What?”

He shakes his head, but holds his gaze, “Nothing.”

You're the one who ends up breaking eye contact, looking back at the TV, but not really watching the show. Because, right now, you can't stop thinking about his lips on your neck, a ghost of a memory from that night.

“Hanta,” you call his name, eyes still on the shitty TV show.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about that night?”

He widens his eyes as his head snaps back to face you, but you keep looking at the TV, although you feel his intense stare. A single pause hangs in the air before he answers.

“Yes.”

You hold your breath, inhaling deeply, preparing yourself for what you want to say next.

“Do you ever want to repeat it?”

“Yes,” the answer comes immediately. “Do you?”

Warmth spreads on your cheeks as you look back at him. You've never seen such hunger in his eyes, such desire. His pupils are blown out, his chest rises and falls quickly with anticipation, his face has a rouge rubor on the cheeks.

“Yes,” you answer, and then it happens quickly.

The bowl of popcorn is on the floor, the contents of it all over the rug, but you don't care. Because Sero’s lips are on yours in a second, his hands cupping your face strongly, but not enough to hurt. He slips his tongue past your lips and you allow him, having missed the taste of him so much. Sero leans over you, forcing you to lay back on the couch as his hands slip under your pajama top, cupping your breasts as if you're going to run away. A gasp escapes your lips once you pull away from him for a second.

“Wait!” You say, pushing him away. He looks at you with confused eyes, but pulls his hands away from you. “Can I… can I suck you?”

Sero almost chokes on his own spit, but manages to swallow back the grunt that made its way to his throat, “Are-are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pushing him away and sitting on the couch as your lips reconnect with his again. You’re getting good at this; Sero’s hands try to grab your hips, but you’re already kneeling on the floor, in between his legs.

“Angel…”

“Guide me through it?” You don’t let him change his mind, your shaky hands reaching to pull the elastic band of his sweatpants down.

His half hard cock sits pretty on his lower stomach and your mouth is already watering. With a hesitant hand, you gently grab his shaft and start stroking it.

“What do I do?”

When you look back to him, Sero has a hand on his mouth, face beet red, in a way you've never seen before. He's holding back his groans and his erection only grows as your delicate hands wrap around it.

“Hanta?” You stop your movements and look back with concerned eyes.

“Hold it more on the tip,” he finally says, and you obey, adjusting your grip on him, “Your– Rub your thumb on the slit in the head…”

With a frown of concentration, you rub the pad of your thumb where he told you to. Warm, clear liquid comes out of his cock, coating your finger and you stop for a second to observe it. Then, you bring your thumb to your lips, wrapping around the digit and tasting the salty fluid.

“Fuck, Angel,” Sero moans at the sight, “T-try licking it up.”

He wasn't expecting this. Your sudden confident – and curious – attitude turns him on in a way he never thought it would. Yes, he imagined you kneeling before him many times, but he didn't think it would happen like this. He thought you would need more convincing, but it was a surprise that you brought it up.

You stick out your tongue and give an experimental lick on the tip of his dick, tasting the salty, strange texture of it. Sero moans as you try again and again, until your lips are wrapping around him.

“Oh, shit,” he whines as you try to get more of him in your mouth, your drool starting to cover the length of him, “Yes, baby, just like that.”

You gently bob your head up and down, as his hand rests on the top of your head, encouraging you to go deeper. Sero throws his head back, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead as his breathing gets heavier.

“Stroke what you can't suck, angel.” He grows more confident as you do what he says. You're so eager, so curious to learn, and that not only makes him harder, but also makes him feel almost proud of you. When the tip of him reaches your throat, you slightly gag, pulling away. He looks concerned as he asks, “Woah, are you okay?”

You nod, taking a deep breath, and starting over, licking him up, stroking him, and wrapping your lips around him. Your pace grows quicker and more intense, and Sero doesn't think he can hold himself anymore.

“You're gonna make me come.”

When you look back at him, he's covering his mouth as he stares at you, a deep shade of red still painting his cheekbones.

“Should I swallow?” You ask, looking into his eyes. Sero involuntarily bucks his lips and groans, closing his eyes and throwing his head back on the couch again, “Hanta?”

He swears he tries to answer, but when your pretty hands are wrapped around him, it's hard to concentrate. He babbles a response, but you don't quite understand it.

“Huh?”

“Yes!” He snaps, looking back at you with desperate eyes, “Swallow everything, like the good girl you are!”

The words send a wave of arousal through your body, straight to the middle of your legs. You work harder, until he's moaning and whining your name, bucking his hips uncontrollably into your mouth. With a final jerk upwards, you feel Sero's cock twitch in your mouth as he reaches his climax. A warm, thick liquid fills your mouth, and the sensation is odd - but your urge to have his semen coat your throat is overpowering, and you quickly work to swallow it all. In an attempt to down every last drop, you continue sucking and lap at the tip with your tongue, causing Sero to whine out and thrust into you a couple more times while riding out the wave of his orgasm.

Once the man's movement stops, you slowly lift yourself from him. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and look up to see Sero's flushed expression, his head tilted back, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, still panting. A few seconds pass with the both of you catching your breath, before Sero moves to look at you again.

“Shit, baby,” Sero breathes out, grabbing your face and gently pulling you up to stand, and smashes his lips on yours harder than ever. You barely notice the way he pulled your shorts down, leaving you naked from the waist down.

He pulls you to straddle him, each leg beside his thighs, deepening the kiss and hugging you close, grabbing your hips, thighs and ass. You whine as he squeezes your buttcheeks hard, pushing your hips against his.

“How did I do?” You ask, after pulling away from him, gasping for air.

“You did amazing, angel.” Sero smiles down at you. “I have to pay you back.”

A yelp escapes your lips when he wraps his arms around you and moves to lay on his side on the couch, taking you with him. He lets you adjust your legs, so one is not crushed under his and the other is wrapped around his hip. One of his arms serves you as a pillow, while his other hand snakes through your body. He doesn’t waste time, and dips his fingers in between your folds.

“Fuck, look how wet you are already,” he says, coating his fingers with your arousal and rubbing the most sensitive part of you, earning a whine from your lips. He muffles it with his own lips as he pushes a finger inside you, having you tense your muscles for a moment and then relax into his arms. Pulling you closer, he adds another finger in and curls them both. You think you see stars under your eyelids as he hits a spot you didn’t even know it existed.

“Hanta,” you murmur into his lips and that only makes him press into you harder.

“It’s okay, angel, just let it go,” he whispers, “you did so well today, you deserve this.”

Your moans echo through your apartment walls as you come, clamping around his fingers.

“Good girl.” He praises you, riding your orgasm down, until you calm down again, “Good girl, angel.”

Sero kisses your forehead and holds you in place for a moment before pulling his fingers out of you. You don’t push him away and he doesn’t let you go from his embrace. It’s nice here, his warm skin and distinct smell makes you want to live in his arms forever. It takes a moment for you to remember you are just friends.

“Sero…”

“Yeah?”

You pause, burying your face in his neck. “Someone’s gotta clean the floor.”

He bursts in laughter as you refer to the popcorn on the floor.

“I’ll do it.” He intends to stand up, but you hold him in place.

“Later,” you mumble, indulging just a little more in his presence.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “later.”

[lcriedlastnight]

Enemies to lovers with Lando. Someone says something bad / criticises Lando in front of reader and she immediately defends him without knowing he’s behind her and can hear everything. And maybe as she’s defending him she’s also unknowingly/ without realizing / accidentally admitting her feelings for him

i love this idea! thank you so much anon, love!

tw: fem!reader, swears, logan hate (do not support!), little lando hate, not spellchecked or proof read, lmk if you want me to add anything else.

w/c: 2k

you and lando had never gotten along. you’d never gotten along and you’d never tried to. it was just one of those things, you supposed. you didn’t make a big deal out of it as the two of you shared a friend group and didn’t want to cause any issues between the group. lando however, well it seemed like he had a serious issue with you.

at first you did try to get along with him, his ego was massive and that really did put you off wanting to be friends with him but you could be fake a friendship with him. a friendship out of convenience was perfectly fine with you. lando was just having none of it. he’d ignore any conversation you would try to have with him - even in a group setting. you had tried just not talking to him but even that left you on the receiving end of dirty looks and mean comments. you’d had enough with it so you stopped caring about him entirely.

well that’s what you told your friends. in reality; you cared what he thought, you looked for his reaction to any story that was told in the room and you looked to see if he laughed at your jokes. every single time you were left with blank stares and bored expressions.

your friends noticed this and tried their best to ease the tension between the two of you but because of lando’s stubbornness, there was nothing they could really do. he really did make things difficult sometimes.

you had all gathered around the drivers house to celebrate a mutual close friend’s birthday. you and you close girl friends had gotten ready for the get together at your house and headed to the party together.

“so is the vibe for tonight party or chilled?” your friend asks as you jump out of the taxi outside lando’s apartment complex. your other friend snorts in amusement before she replies.

“girl, we’re at lando’s what do you think the vibe is?”. you frown. the party vibe wasn’t really what the birthday boy enjoyed so you hoped for his sake it was more a chilled, hanging with friends vibe. you also didn’t really dress for a party, your favourite pair of jeans on as well as one of those cute baby tee’s you found on tiktok.

“i hope not. fin doesn’t really like parties.” you remind them as you press the buzzer for lando’s. it rings for a second then you hear his crackly voice through the speaker. “hello?”. he sounded sober. good start.

“can you let us in please?” you ask into the intercom. there is a pause before lando replies.

“no. we’re full.”

your friend rolls her eyes at his words, knowing all this is was because he was talking to you. if he would just stop acting like a dickhead for more than two seconds people could maybe get things done. meanwhile, you huff at lando’s words opening your mouth to complain to him but your friend cuts in. “just let us in, norris.”.

she sounds fed up enough already that lando immediately tells them to “head on up, then.” she storms ahead of you and your other friend. you look at each other with annoyed looks.

“to be fair it’s a good thing she did that because you haven’t fell into his traps in months.” she reminds you as you reach his door which was open waiting on you and your friend. you nod. it was true, ignoring lando was really going well for you… from your friends point of view anyways. your mind was still plagued with thoughts of him.

your friend walks in before you so make sure to close the door behind you.

“so i guess we were wrong. looks like it is a chill night.” you friend says as she sees your friends dotted around the place, conversing. it looked very adult. weird for something lando was in charge of planning. you didn’t know he was capable of being anything except snide and rude. maybe he could be thoughtful and caring to the people he loved. the thought makes you frown but before you can linger on it for too long your friend grabs you both a drink and you take seats on his couch.

you notice you’re the last ones to arrive and try to find your friend that stormed off earlier. your eyes rake around the room until they land on her sitting with fin, the birthday boy. they looked cosy. ‘good for them’ you think as you take a sip of your drink. you notice lando sitting with his friend, max, on the couch next to you. you glance in his direction then redirect your eyes.

after maybe half an hour of socialising and drinking, fin announces (with your other friend hanging off his arm) that he wants to play a game of truth or dare. you thought it was a bit childish but everyone agreed so you did too. you all sit in a circle and decide to place a bottle in the middle.

“this is so high school.” you say to your friend, who just laughs in agreement. you had ended up sitting next to max on one side and your friend on the other. you quite liked max, he was nothing like lando, which helped you like him a lot more.

“since it’s my birthday, i’ll go first!” fin says as he spins the bottle. it lands on max. fin grins before asking the question you know you’re going to be tired of hearing after tonight.

after a couple of rounds a few of you disperse to get drinks and use the toilet. you were pretty sure some went for a smoke break. you didn’t even know anyone where smoked. lando was one of the people that had left, he went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and max. the good thing about not being able to let anyone know you were staring at lando was that you got good at lip reading and hearing things from a distance. you also got good at seeing things out of the corner of your eye. it was during your turn when lando asked max if he wanted another drink. you felt like you were keeping tabs on the boy, you were starting to feel a bit creepy as you answered your question.

the game continues as people (lando) leave. it was your friend turn but she was a bit more than drunk and would only accept a question from fin, the man she was clinging to all night.

you can all see the wheels turning in fin’s mind as he thinks up a question. “how good of a driver do you think lando actually is?” he finally asks.

everyone perks up at the question, wanting to see if your friend had any unpopular opinions on lando’s driving skills.

“he’s shit. like- that’s him just won his first race? after racing for like five years? that doesn’t really scream future world champion does it?” she criticised, words slurred. your face is screwed up in disagreement. you bite your tongue though, knowing she was drunk and probably just wanted to start something. you’re sure you heard someone gasp.

“you don’t really mean that?” another one of your friends asks in shock. your drunk friend only nods.

“i do. he’s bad. like he’s not logan sargent bad but he’s mid at best and i don’t understand the hype. i never have and i don’t think i ever will.” she smiles a little and that’s what gets you.

“i’m sorry are you being serious right now? firstly the audacity you have to sit there, shitfaced, bashing on the person who’s house you’re inside and who bought you the drinks in the first place is absurd,” you start, bring her down a peg. you hear footsteps behind you but you’re too pent up to acknowledge them right now.

“secondly, have you even watched a race? ever? or even recently? because if you had then you would know just how good he actually is. you’re sitting there talking about him like you know exactly how hard he worked to get to where he is and to achieve that win. millions of people - who actually watch the races, by the way - have said how difficult it is to end verstappen’s win streak and lando was the first person to do so this season.” you rant, enraged that she spoke about lando like that.

her mouth opens and closes a few times before she says, almost cockily. “carlos sainz won before lando did, in australia. you act like i don’t know shit about f1.”

“lando’s win means way more than carlos’ because max was still in the race in miami. he had the chance to actually win it, whereas in australia he dnf’d. so do you actually know what you’re talking about? i, along with like a million other people like lando and think he’s going to go very far the rest of the season.” you educate her. she should really know all of this seeing as you always told her every detail about the races on the mondays following.

“bitch.” she has nothing to retaliate with so she chooses to resort to name calling. you don’t even give her a reply and stand up to go outside to get some air. you stand up so quickly you don’t see the feet standing directly behind you or the hard chest you smash into. you could tell it was lando from the scent. was it weird? maybe but you didn’t care much. you’re embarrassed that he probably heard your rant defending him and that you just smashed right into his chest so you step backwards and head to lando’s balcony to sit outside with the smokers.

you rush outside and sit down in the far corner next to the railing. you watch the streets below for a few minutes, trying to forget what you had just done and who you had done it in front of. you feel lando looming over you a few minutes later.

“y’alright?” he asks as he takes a seat next to you. you feel uncomfortable a little, you’ve never been this close to him, even though that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted for the past three years. and he’s being nice to you. lando have never been nice to you. ever. you’d seen him be nice to others, hundreds of times before so you knew what it was like, but you could only have dreamed of being on the receiving end of it.

“yeah.” you reply. you move your head from watching the cars pass on the road to rest your forehead on your tucked up knees.

“thank you for what you did… well said i guess. it was really nice of you.” lando starts, his hand sits awfully close to the edge of your shoe. it’s not touching but if you shuffled your foot a few times towards him, it would be.

“i know i don’t really deserve it. not from you anyways. you’ve always been so sweet to me and i’ve kinda been- well a dick.” you let out a breathy giggle at his choice of words.

“yeah. you have been a dick.” lando grins as you agree with him.

“what if i said i didn’t wanna be a dick to you anymore?” he said, you’re sure you heard a hint of shyness in his voice.

you move you’re head from it’s resting place to look at him in confusion. “you don’t? how do you want to treat me then?” you ask.

lando smiles. “like i should’ve been for the past god knows how long.” you give him your own smile back.

“for the record i like you too.” lando teases, his hand coming to clutch at your thigh. you groan.

“i hate you.” he laughs that laugh.

“no you don’t.” you rest your head on your shoulder and listen to the traffic. lando’s thumb rubs across your skin. his touch is soothing. this is the first nice memory you have with lando.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ʚ・ ୨୧・ɞ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

౨ৎ.ᐟ JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST DRABBLES + ARCHIVED

a collection of all my drabbles and prompt-based james potter fics. everything’s sorted to keep things easy to find, and new pieces will be added along the way

requests for james are currently open!

DO YOU REMEMBER OUR FIRST DATE? 　─　ever since harry started dating ginny, he hasn’t stopped gushing about her. you and james listen fondly, reminiscing about your own first date—a disaster involving spilled butterbeer

I’M GOING TO WORRY ABOUT YOU FOREVER 　─　you’re sick, but james refuses to leave your side. despite your protests that you’re fine, he’s running around the hospital wing, fussing over you, getting you potions from madam pomfrey (who’s already tried to kick him out), and scolding you for not taking care of yourself. it’s a little annoying—but mostly, it’s just really sweet

KISS ME HARD UNDER THE POURING RAIN 　─　james is grumbling about the rain ruining quidditch practice, completely miserable. but when he turns to complain to you, you’re nowhere to be found—until he spots you, dancing in the rain without a care in the world. he swears he hates it—until suddenly, he doesn’t

YOU WEREN’T JOKING? 　─　james has been sulking all day because you’re going on a date with someone else—or at least, that’s what he thinks. he’s being dramatic about it, obviously, but when you show up at his dorm, all dressed up and asking if he’s ready to go, he realizes he might have completely misunderstood something very, very important

I SAID I LOVE YOU 　─　ever since you started dating james, he’s made it his mission to say “i love you” every chance he gets. so, naturally, you decide to mess with him—just a little

I'M NOT CUTE 　─　you’ve never considered yourself cute—black sisters are supposed to be intimidating, not adorable. but james potter seems determined to prove you wrong

I LET YOU TOUCH MY ANTLERS 　─　james finds a stray cat, brings it to his dorm, and tells it everything about his amazing girlfriend—you. the next day, you’re suddenly mad at him, and james is losing his mind trying to figure out how you somehow know everything he said

WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME, LOVE? 　─　when you get a suspicious note from james potter, you expect trouble—but you definitely don’t expect an explosion, red smoke, sirius with a guitar, and peter singing off-key. add in a very flustered remus, an exasperated mcgonagall, and james looking way too smug, and suddenly, saying yes to a date feels like the least chaotic part of your night

WANNA MAKE IT A DATE? 　─　ever since you started hanging out with james, your friends have had a habit of mysteriously disappearing whenever you're together. at first, you thought it was a coincidence—until they stranded you in hogsmeade with him, leaving you both very confused… and maybe on an accidental date

SHE’S MY GIRL 　─　ever since james called you his girlfriend to scare off a guy, he hasn’t stopped holding your hand or looking at you like you hung the stars—almost like he isn’t pretending at all

YOU’RE THE PRETTIEST GIRL I’VE EVER SEEN 　─　ever since you can remember, you’ve never really believed you were pretty. but james potter keeps calling you beautiful—and the way he says it makes it really hard not to believe him

YOU’RE MORE THAN ENOUGH, LOVE 　─　ever since your pregnancy, you've felt different in your own skin. no matter what james says, the insecurities linger—but of course, james potter has never been one to let you doubt yourself for long

ANGEL, IT’S JUST ONE NIGHT, YEAH? WRONG 　─　sharing a bed with james for one night was supposed to be no big deal. but neither of you realized just how bad you were at keeping your hands to yourselves—strictly in a cuddly, totally just friends kind of way

YOU LET SOMEONE STAB YOU REPEATEDLY? 　─　ever since you and james met as kids on that old park bench, it’s been your special place. so, as a surprise, you get a tiny tattoo of it—but when you show james, his reaction is definitely not what you anticipated

WHAT ARE WE DOING WITH THE SPARE ROOM? 　─　when you and james moved in together, the spare room became a heated topic. you want a guest room, james wants a game room, and neither of you are willing to back down. just when things get chaotic, sirius shows up with his own agenda—one that has nothing to do with helping you and everything to do with making sure remus moves in with him

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ʚ・ ୨୧・ɞ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ARCHIVED

a collection of archived james potter fics—i’m open to rewriting if requested

JUST LEAF ME ALONE 　─　you just wanted a cozy autumn walk with your annoyingly charming boyfriend, but james has other plans—mainly, pun after pun about fall that drive you absolutely mad… and maybe make you laugh way too much

GUESS I'LL HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOU 　─　ever since you met james, he's been hopelessly pining after you. you’ve done your best to ignore him, even when your heart betrays you sometimes. but now, stuck at hogwarts for the holidays with a fever and no one else around, james insists on taking care of you—whether you like it or not

TASTE ME TOO 　─　james might be with lily now, but you know he still feels you everywhere—every touch, every kiss, every laugh. she thinks she’s won, but she’s just living in your shadow like it or not

BECAUSE IT MAKES YOU BLUSH? 　─　you definitely didn’t mean to get flustered over james calling you beautiful by the lake—but with his jumper around you and that stupidly soft smile on his face, staying calm was basically impossible

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work.

[mikaryu]

Locker Sex

Hi guys… This is an older one I am reposting from my AO3. I actually really hate it, but it was the only oneshot I have to post so..

highschool au, Gojo/f!reader

“So… you know Geto, right?” Shoko squints while turning her head to you.

You purse your lips, running your tongue over them swiftly before returning to your resting face. Shoko and you are walking through the halls of your highschool, on the way to your last class of the day. Unfortunately, this specific class was across the entire school so it was quite the walk.

“Yes? Obviously, He’s Gojo’s best friend. Why do you mention him?” Suspiciously, you raise your eyebrow at the brunette.

“Well, I sort of got the chance to talk to him the other day… and we made a sort of… deal.” She gives an awkward smile while chuckling.

Shaking your head, you look straight ahead, careful not to bump into other students who may obstruct your path. “What the fuck did you do, Shoko? I swear, what did you say?”

“Uhm… telling you would ruin the surprise! But just a heads up, it’s all my fault. Punish me later.” She says before scurrying off to her next class, located just a door away from your’s. She doesn’t give you the chance to say something in response.

The class is a living hell. A difficult one to suffer through, being the last class of the day. And, not to mention, Gojo Satoru is in it. And sits right next to you. You hate his guts, to be honest. But something about him made you obsessed with him. You don’t know why. Maybe it is because he is so perfectly sculpted, so incredibly handsome, he was pretty. Maybe it’s because of the flirty remarks he always shoots at you, making you freeze up and stutter over your words as you are trying to knock some sense into him.

He is so full of himself, but for good reason. He could have any woman he wants. No way would he want you.

So instead you tried to push him away as much as possible. You are an asshole to him, hoping he would show his true colors and you would lose feelings.

Hell, like that would ever work.

Somehow you only ever became more obsessed with him, and he would flirt with you more.

He was oblivious, though.

The man stares at you as you quickly jot something down, blowing out a heavy puff of air as you flip the pencil over to rub the eraser into your notebook. The way your hair falls over your eyes, the way your cheeks puff out, you are adorable to him.

And somehow, he thinks that you were the only woman he couldn’t pull. The one that wasn’t wrapped around his finger. Everyone else’s eyes were stolen as he walked past, but never you. Anytime he passed you through the hallway, you would furrow your brows and look away.

You were the one thing he couldn’t have. And it only fueled him more.

You pick your head up, turning it and looking in his direction. His gaze catches yours. Instead of looking away, he rests his chin in his palm, the other coming to wave his fingers at you mockingly.

You roll your eyes, scoffing before peeling your eyes away from his to connect with the board 4 rows in front of you.

The class is so boring, as always. The only thing keeping you company is Gojo kicking your chair to annoy you, or throwing his eraser shavings in your direction to scatter over your clothes and desk.

You glare at him, and he just blows a kiss at you before winking.

The class ends, the bell startling you just before you drift off to sleep.

As you pack your things, heading to the door, your pulled to a stop. A hand grips at your arm, pulling you back out of the entrance.

You turn to face your oppressor, and of course, it’s Gojo.

“Do you have the notes from yesterday? I fell asleep.” He asks, nonchalantly as if you are best friends. You definitely aren’t.

“I do, but what do you have in exchange?” You smirk, looking up at his tall figure which towers over you.

He taps a finger to his chin, squinting and pouting his lips. “I know. You don’t have the science homework, right? I heard you complaining about it.” He grins, looking down at you.

Your eyes light up. You had missed the notes one day, and now are completely lost. Would he really give you a copy of his homework? “For real? The would help so much-”

He cuts you off, wagging a finger in front of your face. “Ah ah ah, I’m not just going to give you a copy, not a fair exchange. Instead, why don’t you come to my house? I can help you… study.”

You didn’t catch on.

“Wouldn’t that just be more work for you?” You sigh, looking down to the books in your arms.

He realizes you hadn’t caught on to his idea, and he decides to scrap it. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you a copy of my science homework if you give me yesterday’s notes. Just make sure to change a few things, I don’t want to get called out. Deal?” He outreaches his hand to you.

“Deal.” You nod, walking away ignoring the hand he wanted you to shake.

The halls were more empty now, everyone had rushed out quickly since it’s Friday.

Your locker is in the corner of the school, down the stairs right next to the class you had just exited. Due to the excess amount of students that attend the school, they had to designate an entire room to lockers. The lockers down there were very spacious, though, so the staff decided seniors should get the lockers.

Your first three years you thought it was a bit unfair, but being a senior a few months from graduation now, you were happy with it. The year was so much better being able to hold whatever you wanted in it. Whether it be changes of clothes, extra notebooks, an umbrella, jackets, you had it.

Not anymore, though. You had cleaned it out last week, realizing you never used the stuff in it and there was no need. So it is pretty empty. You twist the knob, lifting your finger on the latch to unlock it. You grab your bag, shoving your belongings in it.

Something bumps into you from behind, your stance falters, and you step into the locker to catch your fall. Something pushes you again so you are fully inside. You let out a gasp, whirling around to face the person before the door slams shut in your face.

“What the fuck?!” You exclaim, pounding your fists onto the door.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Y/N!” You hear Shoko’s voice. So this is what she meant.

Before you can say anything else, you hear footsteps run off, leaving you behind.

“The hell?!” You yell out, once again, trying to lift the mechanism from the inside, but failing.

She was gone. Left you. What kind of dirty game was she up to?

You scream a few more times, trying to call out for someone, anyone who was near.

As you begin to get tired, you hear rushed footsteps entering the room.

“Hey!” You yell out, trying to get their attention.

“The fuck? Is someone in there?” A hushed voice occurs, and you hear them step closer.

Another voice perks up. One you recognized all too well. “Y/N? Is that you? Why the hell are you in there?”

A shadow is casted over the little amount of light that was entering the cracks of the door.

“Shoko fucking pushed me in and locked the door.” You are calmer now, knowing you will be able to escape.

“Ok, ok. Tell me the number, I’ll get you out of there.” Gojo raps his knuckle lightly onto the door.

“24, 8, 32.” You hear clicks as you command him.

The latch is picked up, the door flies open. Just as you are about to step out, Gojo’s body crashes into yours and you stumble back into the lockers.

You see Geto behind Gojo, pushing him in, forcefully closing the door.

You are speechless.

“Hey man what the fuck?!” Gojo shouts out, banging his fist onto the door once before Geto leaves the room.

So this is what those fuckers were planning. It all makes sense now. Shoko and Geto talked, found out you liked Gojo, and are now trying to set you up. But, why would Geto agree to this? It’s not like Gojo likes you back.

You pinch the bridge of your nose with your thumb and index fingers, sighing and leaning your head down. “I- I’m sorry, this is Shoko’s fault.”

Your back is up against the wall, Gojo is mirroring you. One of his legs is in between yours, one of yours is in between his. His neck is bent to the side, head touching the top of the locker for him being so tall.

“Damn my good genes.” Gojo rolls his eyes sarcastically before connecting them with yours.

Usually, you would’ve at least chuckled at that. But now, you are too focused on where his leg lies. His knee is bent, pressed up against in between your thighs. Your face is painted red, lips slightly agape, your eyes blown wide trying to focus as much as possible.

Your focus breaks when he hums at you, trying to gain your attention. A jolt of electricity runs down your spine in surprise, your leg twitching slightly, thigh pushing up into Gojo’s crotch.

He groans, his head leaning back and thumping against the back of the locker. “Y/N, f-fuck stop moving.” His cheeks are tinted a light pink, eyes shutting and biting his bottom lip.

You look up at him, terrified at what you had done. “H-holy shit I’m sorry I’ll move-” you stutter while trying to remove your leg from its spot, failing and only pressing up against him more.

The sound that escaped his lips leaves you astonished. It was a mix between a whimper and high pitched moan.

His hand flies down quickly to grip your thigh, nails digging into your skin to keep your leg still.

His head tilts forward, eyes looking down at you. There was a cloud covering them, a deep intent focused towards you. His teeth grit together. His eyes flicker to your lips, before returning to your eyes. His are glimmering in the small amount of light, the beautiful bright blue irises you have found yourself lost in many times in the past.

The hand that isn’t grabbing your thigh travels up your side, gripping your jaw roughly. His voice is low and husky when he speaks, “Why did Geto and your friend do this, hm? Was it planned? Did you know? Nevermind, of course you didn’t know.” He rolls his eyes, letting up on his grip, hand running down your neck, thumb holding your chin.

His gaze sticks to your lips again, and before you could even think he smashes his head into your, lips pushed together in a flash.

The hand on your thigh drags up, squeezing the skin before turning to grip your waist. His lips move against yours, head tilting to deepen the kiss.

You can barely process what is happening. Your hand wraps around his neck, the other pressing against his cheek. Your fingers twirl his white locks, his tongue slides across your lips, prying them open and sliding inside. You moan into his mouth. His hand releases your chin, falling down and grabbing the thigh in between his legs.

He parts from your lips, moving your thigh to wrap around his waist. You lift up your other leg, wrapping it around his waist as well. His hands hold the underside of both your thighs, pinning his body up against yours, pressing you further into the metallic wall behind.

“Fuck, are you ok with this?” Gojo hisses out as he grinds up against you.

“Yes, mhm-” You whimper out, nodding your head frantically.

“Damn, ok, listen to me.” He pushes his head up against your chest, above your breasts. “I’m gonna get on my knees in this goddamn cramped ass fucking locker, I’m gonna eat you out so good you’ll be screaming my name. Then, I’m gonna slam into this door to break us out of here. Us being locked in here gives me an excuse for now even though I know damn well I can get out right now. After we get our asses out, you are coming to my house, and I’m going to fuck you so hard, and so good, baby, alright?” He kisses your neck, hand running under your shirt , cupping your breast.

“And I thought you hated me.” You smile, head still leaning backwards, but eyes looking down at him.

He lifts his head to look at you. “You thought I hated you?” The look he gives you isn’t sarcastic in any way like his usual ‘confused’ look. “You thought, I, hated you? ” He repeats.

“Yeah, obviously.” You snort.

“Sweetheart you got some explaining to do later. It don’t matter right now though, whatever.” He waves a hand at you, dropping to his knees while keeping your hips in the same spot.

His palms press upward, moving your thighs to rest on his shoulders. His fingers hook under your shorts, swiftly pulling them down. He ducks his head, twisting around and struggling to pull them completely off your legs.

You chuckle at him, squirming a bit when he finally does. He looks up at you, unamused. Two fingers reach up to your panties, pushing them to the side. He sucks in through his teeth, muttering something under his breath. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding this pretty thing from me all along.”

Without a second thought, he licks a long stripe up your pussy, circling his tongue around your clit. A loud moan is ripped from your throat, eyes squeezing shut.

“ Fuck, just like that baby girl c’mon.” His tongue dips past your folds, curling up to lap up the wetness that had accumulated.

Your hand grasps the top of his head, tugging on his hair and pulling his face further into your core. He doesn’t protest, plunging his tongue in deeper, in and out, fucking you with his tongue.

“Fuck!” You scream out and his finger rubs at your clit, tongue continuing to work its magic.

You roll your hips, grinding up against Gojo’s face. He looks up at you through white lashes, the blue in his eyes equivalent to the brightest clearest blue sky. You wish you didn’t look at him at that moment, because the scene made an avalanche in your stomach come crashing through.

Mouth sucking on your pussy, nail marks indented into your plush thighs which squeezed around his head. You feel yourself topple over, reaching your orgasm. Gojo doesn’t stop. He licks and sucks up all your juices, and you are embarrassed by the wet noises it makes.

When you finally start to come down from your high, he pulls away from you, gasping for air. He uses the back of his hand to wipe away any excess liquid on his face, licking his lips after.

“You taste so good~” He slurs, your back sliding down the wall until you are level with him.

You exhale deeply, legs trembling.

Gojo grabs your ass, picking you up again and standing. He turns the both of you ninety degrees so his back is facing the door.

“Can you stand?” He asks, putting you down.

You nod, still slightly out of it.

He makes sure you are ok, before bracing his arm and ramming his elbow into the lock mechanism on the door. A snapping sound is heard, but it doesn’t break. One more good hit, and the door flings open, both you and Gojo toppling out. He catches you and stumbles, making sure neither of you fall.

You pull your shorts up, wobbling and gripping onto his shoulder for support.

“My house is less than a mile away, can you deal?” He seems hurried, the bulge in his pants prominent.

“Y-yeah I think so…” You say, continuing to hold onto his shoulder and picking up your bag you had dropped on the floor earlier.

One quick look out the window and you can see heavy rain.

“I have an umbrella.” Gojo responds, following your gaze.

You nod, and he strays over to his locker, quickly unlocking it, securing the umbrella, then closing it again.

You wrap your arm around his, following him through the hall to the closest exit. He pops open the umbrella, hovering it in the air above the both of you for protection from the rain.

He seems to get frustrated though by the pace you are walking at, still stumbling some as your legs failed to work correctly after the mind shattering release he brought you.

“Fuck this…” he sighs, bending over and motioning for you to climb on his back.

You do as told, wrapping your legs and arms around him. He carries you the rest of the way to his house, umbrella low to your heads.

His house, of course, is fucking huge.

He leads you through the garage, not letting go of you, and discarding the umbrella in a basket near the entrance.

Wasting no time he hurries upstairs, opening the door to his room. You throw your bag somewhere on the floor, taking your shoe off with each foot. He scoops you up again, throwing you unceremoniously onto the bed. His shoes come off before he crawls over you, leaning down and kissing you.

His hands are on your waist again, yours around his neck to pull him closer.

“Got to take these off, again. ” He rolls his eyes, exaggerating his words jokingly.

You smirk as he pulls them off, your shirt following. His eyes trail up and down your body, as if trying to memorize every detail. You start to feel uncomfortable, fidgeting a bit under his gaze. When he takes notice, he reaches his hands under you to unclasp your bra.

The material is tossed aside, his lips immediately latching onto your nipple. You gasp, back arching. His hand goes to your other tit, squeezing the softness then rolling your nipple in between his thumb and index finger. Your hips jut up, meeting his.

He detaches from you, only to tear his shirt off then reconnect his lips to your chest. You don’t even get a second to gawk at his perfect physique. His lips graze downwards, tongue licking a strip down the center of your stomach before reaching the band of your panties.

He bites the material, using his teeth to drag the material down past your thighs, then letting his hand take them off the rest of the way. He leans back, taking his sweatpants off, giving you time to stare now. He is perfect.

His hips are narrow, his body cut out perfect, his v-line has you obsessing. You eyes trail further down to where his dick is, a small damp mark visible due to his arousal.

“Like what you see?” He leans his weight onto one leg, placing a hand on his waist and tilting his head. His smile could kill.

“Very much.” You grin, sliding off the bed down to your knees in front of him.

Your hands run across his abs, then down to the waistband of his boxers. You pull them down to his feet in one swift motion. His cock springs up, precum painting the tip. You gawk for a moment before taking him in your hand, doing a few tester strokes. He bites back a groan, bottom lip caught between his teeth. You press a quick kiss to the top, then swirling your tongue around it briefly before drawing your head back again.

“Fuck… just like that.” He throws his head back, lacing his fingers into your hair.

You finally take him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down slowly, going further each time. His grip on your hair tightens, gently guiding your head. His tip starts hitting the back of your throat, his motions more forceful now, taking the lead.

You let him control your head, his hips bucking forward occasionally. He tilts his head back down to look at you, and suddenly stops. He pulls your head off of him. You look up at him confused, about to ask why he stopped. You don’t get the chance though, as he grabs your arm, lifts you up, and pushes you back onto the bed.

Your hair fans out, his lips on your neck instantly. His tip drags along your slit, teasing you. He grinds up against you, rubbing his length along your folds, up and down.

“‘Toru~” You whine out, begging him to just put it in.

He chuckles, smiling up at you. He lays a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before he finally lines up with your entrance, thrusting in fully. You let out a loud moan from the back of your throat, caught off guard.

“Fuck!” You scream out, caught off guard. You were burning up. The stretch stings, but the pain feels good. You feel so concious, every drop of sweat, every twitch of your legs or his cock, every hair poking at your face, it all feels so surreal.

“Goddamn…” He pants out, starting to pull out and thrust back in.

His pace is slow at first, but every time his hips hit against your ass you swear you are floating. The head of his cock pushes at you sweet spot, your body being pushed further and further up the bed with him.

As he accelerates, your moans string together, head beginning to tap the headboard.

“Fuck… you feel so good~” Gojo moans out, head hanging down, his hair tickling your neck. He leans in close to you, chests connecting, his lips finding purchase on yours.

He sucks on your tongue, a string of saliva connecting your mouths when he pulls away. The room is hot and smells like sex, your skin is sticking to his when he grasps your hips roughly. His nails dig into your waist, scratching downwards over your hipbone to your thighs. Your arms and legs are wrapped around him, pulling him in. Your fingers drag down his back, leaving red scratch marks from your nails.

“S-Satoru-” you call out, leaning your head forehead to look in his eyes. “I’m so close oh my god.”

He doesn’t speak, smirking. His eyes are glued to your entrance, his dick disappearing and reappearing into your hole. There is a slight ring around his cock, a mixture of sweat and your juices.

“Me too, darling. Just a little more, be a good girl and hold out a little longer, please.” He finally looks back at you, cerulean eyes filled with love and lust.

You whimper, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut as you feel the pit deep in your stomach beginning to overflow.

A couple more thrusts and you scream, throwing your head back to hit the headboard. Your legs shake around him, nails digging as hard as possible into his back, breaking the skin. You squeeze around him, a gutteral moan elicited from his lips when you do.

Desperate and sloppy, he thrusts into you faster than you thought was possible. His hips slap against your’s once, twice, and then a third time before he finally reaches his peak. He groans out, emptying hot ropes of white far into you. He slowly rocks his hips to ride out both of your orgasms, before finally pulling out and collapsing onto you.

You feel his cum leak out, whimpering at empty feeling. Without thinking, you slowly move your hand down your body, using two fingers to push his cum back into you.

He pushes himself up off of you, muttering something at the sight.

“We’re doing this again sometime.” He breathes out, laughing slightly as he lays beside you.

You only hum, eyes fluttering shut. Your body feels heavy, and it’s too hot to think or stay awake.

You feel the mattress sink slightly as Gojo turns to you, kissing your cheek. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close before you drift off to sleep.

He whispers something else, but you don’t hear it.

Three words.

[crowinkwriting]

Something New.

[I did not know how to end this. I just had an idea and ran with it. Spite processing the fact there is a new baby and being very confused about it.]

“What is it?”

“A baby.” Rook mutters, her sleepiness clear from her voice. She watched from their shared bed as Lucanis, or really Spite, looked into the crib at the small new life that laid in it.

“What do you do with it?” “Take care of it.”

“Why?”

“Cause that’s what you do with babies.” She says, her half sleeping state not leading to very satisfactory answers for the spirit. “Come back to bed.” He doesn’t move though, simply watching the infant sleep. For once the baby had been quiet, sleeping and peaceful. Spite didn’t get it. It was loud, helpless, and would take up all of Rook’s time.

Yet for some reason Lucanis was so fond of it. He and Rook had been so happy when it was born, but Spite didn’t seem to understand. Especially after it had put Rook through so much pain, still she loved it so much.

“Spite.” Rook said, breaking him from his thoughts. The demon turned to face her, she was still laying down and watching him. Not particularly annoyed with him, just tired.

“If you’re gonna wander, don't wake the baby.” She muttered. “He’s gonna wake himself up in a few hours. I’d like to get a little bit of sleep.”

“Why do you want it?” Spite asks, a hint of annoyance seeming into his tone.

Rook is quiet for a moment, thinking of what to say. She had never really thought about her and Lucanis would go about explaining this to Spite. They’d mainly been hoping he wouldn’t react negatively to the baby, not how they’d talk to him about it.

“It’s just… something people want sometimes.” Rook says, not sure that explanation is good enough.

“It is very loud and helpless.” Spite complains.

Rook smiles at that. She wasn’t sure why but it seemed cute how irked Spite was about the new baby. “I know.” Rook says. “Yet you want it.” Spite states.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because me and Lucanis wanted to start a family.” “Why?” “It’s what people do.”

Before Spite could ask something else Rook interrupts him. “Just come back to bed. You can talk about everything with Lucanis in the morning.” She suggests.

Spite hesitated, glancing one last time at the sleeping infant. Eventually though the demon walked back over to the bed and settled in beside Rook. Still he seemed annoyed.

Rook just closes her eyes, fading back into sleep for the little time she can.

Part 2: Here

[beenbaanbuun]

the friend - opposites attract universe

a knock against the door has hongjoong startled, pulling him from the task at hand. his hands that were delicately massaging your scalp soon disappear, instead finding their way to your shoulders to push you gently from his path. you whine in mock complaint as he shuffles you to sit in front of his husband instead, but then seonghwa’s skilled fingers lace themselves in your soft barnet and all is well again. your eyes flutter closed and your head tips back.

“fickle little thing,” hongjoong muses as he straightens his slacks. his fingers brush over the pinstriped material, knocking away the creases from sitting in them, before he begins to move towards the archway that separates the living room from the foyer. “she really will crumble for anyone who shows her attention.”

he mutters that last bit under his breath, sharing an amused chuckle with himself as he wraps his hand around the brass doorknob. the wooden door is heavy and takes more than a little effort to yank open, but with a helpful hand from someone on the other side, it seems much easier. the ringed hand that came to his aid soon drops from the ornate door, swinging back down to the side of its owner. hongjoong can’t help but smile when he sees who it belongs to—his good friend song mingi is at his door.

hongjoong smiles at the man as he takes his sunglasses off and tucks them in the pocket of his black hoodie; it was a style choice hongjoong never really got behind, but mingi insisted that dressing so casually was ‘cool’ and not to mention ‘handy for his line of work.’ hongjoong is still convinced that you can take care of werewolves whilst dressing properly, but after several conversations on the matter, he’s come to the conclusion that mingi is simply just too stubborn to care. it’s fine, hongjoong tells himself; it’s all a part of what makes the giant on his doorstep so loveable.

“no yunho today?” hongjoong asks as he sidesteps just enough to let mingi through the door. “you two are normally inseparable.” there’s a strange expression on mingi’s face as hongjoong moved to push the door closed. it’s sheepish and shy and not at all like mingi, almost as if he’s ashamed of something. the door clicks shut just as the taller man shrugs which in itself is suspicious. the pair are normally attached at the hip; for mingi to not know exactly where the artist is at any given point in time is wrong. hongjoong sucks his teeth like he’s about to start scolding a child. “mingi, what have you done?”

“nothing!” the young man complains, tone defensive and annoyed. “why would you assume it’s me that’s done something and not yunho?”

its said like a child blaming their sibling for something, and hongjoong has to tense all of his face muscles to stop himself from cracking a smile. mingi makes it almost impossible for him not to have a soft spot for the man. so selfless yet so childish, hongjoong finds it easy to adore him. it’s probably why he’s been friends with the unsophisticated rascal for so many years.

“because i know if yunho had done something he would’ve already apologised and fixed the matter at hand,” it’s true, although it is entirely possible that yunho had apologised for something and mingi was just being his usual difficult self about it. hongjoong suspects that if that were the case, though, the man in his foyer would be a whole lot poutier. he thinks its safe to assume that this is a mingi-caused problem, as so many things are. “now tell me what’s wrong or i’ll invite yunho over to tell me himself.”

mingi’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking like a clock as he mulls over his options. on one hand, he doesn’t want to be scolded by hongjoong, on the other, he really doesn’t want to have to face yunho right now. he knows one look at his friend will have him bent double, begging for forgiveness and he’s not quite ready to do that. he wants to hang onto his pride for just a little while longer.

so he sighs and closes his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the berating he’s about to get from hongjoong. his lungs fill with oxygen and he’s just about to confess his wrongdoings when he hears it; the sound of his saviour.

“hongjoong?” your brashly optimistic voice echos through the room as the soft pitter-patter of your bare feet grows nearer, and for the first time ever, mingi finds himself thanking the devil for your existence. usually he’s pretty impartial to you, loving to tease you more than he loves you. now, though? demons, he could kiss you if he wasn’t absolutely sure that hongjoong would have yeosang pinning him to the floor by his throat within seconds.

screw the fact that mingi once cared for yeosang like he was one of his own; the once feral pup is well and truly loyal to the kim family now…

mingi watches as the lilac of your sweater-covered arms wraps around hongjoong’s waist like a belt. the man relaxes into your hold, the accusatory look on his face melting away as you tuck your face into his neck. “seonghwa was wondering how long you’d be. he misses you.”

hongjoong chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“you mean you miss me?” he purrs, brining a hand up to pet at your messed up hair. mingi’s surprised seonghwa let you slip from his grasp without carefully laying each individual strand of hair back into position. no doubt the man is seething about your escape in the next room over. “seonghwa can live without me for a few moments, dove. you, on the other hand, are forever proving that you can’t.”

“yeah, sure, whatever,” you admit, “i miss you, i guess.”

hongjoong cranes his neck to kiss the side of your head, a toothy grin on his face as he holds his lips to you for a few more seconds than necessary. mingi finds himself rolling his eyes at the unnecessary display of affection, but he’s be lying if he said he didn’t feel something stirring inside of his chest. it’s cute, he admits to himself, but that doesn’t mean he needs to see it. he’s actually more than grateful when hongjoong pulls away from you with a gentle sigh.

“let’s go back to the lounge then, my pretty little dove,” hongjoong murmurs, and mingi feels the weight of the world fall from his back. he’s have to thank you later for tearing hongjoong’s attention from him. “you can wake yeosang from his nap; i’m sure the mutt would be more than happy to see that mingi is here to visit.”

[frogs-in-my-tea]

I’m tired of the constant hate towards making male characters more feminine. Having fem traits doesn’t make a character weak and it doesn’t make a them submissive.

So, just out of spite, take some headcanons that show the more fem(?) side of Will and Nico:

Before Will and Nico dated, Will was with Drew Tanaka (he’s got a type). He had told Drew he wanted to do her nails for her like the gentleman he is, so she taught him how to expertly treat nails and paint them. Ever since then, Will almost always paints his and his sibling’s nails. When Nico and him got together (and Nico felt more comfortable with who he is), Will made it so that every two weeks they got their nails painted (they also put face masks and gossip, because those two gossip a lot).

Nico likes to be held, to get carried to bed when he’s hurt or tired, to rest in the arms of people he deeply cares about. He would never admit this, it could ruin his edgy reputation. But that feeling has always warmed his heart, someone caring for him so much they want to keep him in their hold, they want him around, they don’t want to let go, its something he thought he would never have. It’s the touch he had desperately craved but flinched away from. Now, he finally has it, and he won’t let it go.

I will die on the “Nico’s the little spoon” hill. That boy’s the master of curling into a tight ball and sleeping like the dead. He’s an isopod man. Sometimes he’s too curled up Will tries to shift him into a more comfortable position so he doesn’t destroy his back. (And of course Mr. Will “I love to hold other people so they are safe in my arms” Solace takes advantage of that.) but I also think this is a protective instinct, he unconsciously does it because he feels safer (more so when someone he loves is holding him). He probably learned to do this those few years he was homeless. Also he’s cold.

Will has a very long and complex hair routine, he’s so dedicated he wakes up at 5 am to do it early in the morning and take his sweet time. His hair was messy asf before Hazel taught him how to properly treat it. He’s become obsessed with curly hair routines now, sometimes he does his routine with Nico (when his boyfriend’s too tired to complain). Will has one of the shiniest and healthiest hairs in camp.

Will loves to braid Nico’s hair, especially when it gets long. He makes tiny braids that are scattered around when he gets bored, when they are cuddling, when Nico’s sitting next to him or on his lap, when he needs to do something with his hands. He does this with his siblings too! Kayla’s the only one who gets annoyed when he does it to her but she lets him have it.

Nico’s lips are always dry asf (dehydrated mf) and he always bites the dry skin when he’s stressed or just thinking. Will forced him to have a chapstick in his pocket at all times. The chapstick has a hint of maroon, Will justified it by claiming it made Nico look more alive and less like a zombie (Will actually bought it because he likes how the color looks on Nico).

I’m genuinely curious if these are actually more feminine things. To me, they’re not. Because everyone has a different conception of what’s fem or masc to the point were you start thinking if it really matters. In conclusion, labeling is stupid.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Forever

Hi guys!

You were waiting for this one for a long time but it's finally here! This is Luna's elopement fic.

As always, this is a fiction, so it's purely coming from my mind. Please enjoy this one and tell me what you thought about it!

TW : None, I think. Maybe a little of chaos.

Lucy is tired, like bloody tired. Her and her team just won the cup of the Champions League yesterday and she’s still hungover from the party last night. She regretted bitterly her choice of drink this morning when the alarm went on, asking her to get up to get on the bus and then the plane. They had to be in Barcelona in the afternoon to present the cup at all the Cùlers and for some random talking with people in suit.

She’s not as hungover as Cata though, the woman practically snoring during the ceremony, much to her friends’ amusement.

To distract herself during the speeches that she finds rather annoying, Lucy is looking at her girlfriend. Standing right in front of her, Ona seems to be listening for the people who don’t know her, but Lucy knows better. Ona’s eyes are a little off, but Lucy can’t say if it’s because she’s bored or because she’s in pain.

The cuts she had because of her fall on their opponent’s boot is sharp, she needed three stitches on her cheek. The other one is way to close to her eyes to do anything. Lucy feels the bile running up her throat every time she remembers that her girlfriend could have lost an eye that night.

The English woman frowns when she sees Ona rubbing her injured eye, the scarring itching terribly. But the team’s doctors clearly specified that Ona should touch her eye as little as possible for a quick and optimal recovery.

“Ona” Lucy gently scolds her.

The younger pouts and crosses her arms on her breast, making Lucy smiles softly. She can’t wait to go home, find their dogs and sleep for the next three days before she has to go to national camp in England.

Thanks God they stop soon to talk, and Lucy is relieved to be able to go home. She even grabs Ona’s bags and push her in the direction of her car when they are released. Ona laughs slightly but let her do, looking for her keys in her pocket while Lucy puts their bag in the car.

“What do you think you're doing, Batlle?” Lucy tsk her when Ona sits behind the wheel.

“Going home?” Ona frowns.

“Get out of here. I’m the one driving, you almost lost an eye.”

“Lucia I can drive.”

Ona is sulking and Lucy rolls her eyes. The Catalan girl is the nicest and sweetest person in the world, but Lucy swears that she never met someone as suborn as her girlfriend. Which she likes very much, even if she sometimes seems to forget that she needs to take care of her.

“Sure Cyclops. Let’s sit on the passenger’s seat yeah?”

Ona frowns harder and try to make her girlfriend changes her mind, but she realizes soon that she doesn’t stand a chance. Lucy usually gets Ona what she wants, but not if she knows that it isn’t good for Ona.

The drive home is long, the journey who is usually thirty minutes is far from being finish and yet they only made several kilometers in one hour and an half.

“You can sleep if you want, Bonita” Lucy says softly at her girlfriend.

Ona was lost in the contemplation of the streets, but she turns her head in Lucy’s direction with a soft smile.

“I know. I prefer enjoying my time with you though. I three days we will be separated again.”

Lucy smiles softly, very carefully stroking Ona’s face. The wound looks better than yesterday but it still seems hurtful. But Ona isn’t the kind of girl to complain about anything.

“You’ll be careful with that beautiful face of yours, yeah?”

Ona hums only. She doesn’t want to have a big, awful and permanent scar on her face, but they don’t really let them be gentle during Spanish camp.

“I asked Alexia to keep an eye on you anyway.”

Ona whines, much to Lucy’s amusement. She knows what she was doing when she asked that to Alexia, their captain will be around Ona during all the camp, probably snapping her hand away every time Ona will want to scratch her face.

“How can you do that to me?” Ona groans.

“I did it because I love you” Lucy smiles, rolling her eyes.

“You definitively don’t love me as much as you say. If it was right, you would never betray me this way.”

“You are so dramatic” Lucy laughs softly.

“All that I’ll retain from this conversation is that I love you more than you love me.”

“That’s not true” Lucy frowns.

“It is. I’m the one who love you the most but that’s ok.”

With a satisfy smile, Ona shrugs before taping Lucy’s hand on her thigh. This discussion is going again and again between them, a childish and sweet fight that none of them want to give up.

“Ok” Lucy says after several seconds of silence. “If you love me so much, marry me.”

There is another moment of silence.

“Qué?”

Ona is looking at her girlfriend with wide eyes, seriously asking herself if Lucy lost her mind. But Lucy is looking at her seriously.

“Are you still drunk?” Ona asks, arching an eyebrow.

“No. I am very serious, Ona. I love you. I know you are the love of my life. You are the one I want to finish my life with, I’ve never be so sure about anything in my whole life. I don’t have a ring, but I’ll change that as soon as possible. I want to marry you.”

This is unreal for Ona. Of course, she already thought about marrying Lucy one day, because she’s sure that Lucy is the love of her life too. Lucy flipped her life upside down, in the best way possible. The situation is unreal, but the answer she gives seems to be as much.

“Ok”

“Yes? Will you marry me?”

“Yes” Ona smiles softly.

Even if this isn’t the most convenient marriage proposal, there still is some tears in Lucy’s eyes. And the smile she gives to Ona makes Ona’s heart fluttered. But then, Lucy is suddenly turning on the road, taking the opposite street of their apartment.

“Lucy what are you doing?”

“We are going to the airport, taking the next plane for Las Vegas. I want to marry you right now.”

“What? But Lucy the dogs? Our parents are going to kill us!”

“Coco and Narla can stay a little longer to your parents. And we will make a ceremony with everyone in several days. I just don’t want to pass another day without you being called my wife.”

The tender smile Ona gives her talk for her. She wrote to her parents to ask them to keep the dogs a little bit longer, explaining that Lucy and her are taking surprised holidays. She doesn’t say why and where though.

While Lucy is looking for a place on the parking, Ona is looking at the first plane leaving for Las Vegas. She managed to find one leaving in five hours, choosing to be in business class, after all they are getting married, right? They let their suitcases from the game in the car, choosing to buy new clothes in the airport. And because they are in business class, they have the lounge and the possibility to take a shower before landing.

Their seats are next to each other on the plane, but when they are on the sky, Ona chooses to escalate the wall between them to sit next to Lucy. Well, on Lucy. In the darkness of the plane and night, they cannot be seen from anyone, not that their embrace has anything looking like Pegi 18 anyway. Lucy just had passed her hand under Ona’s shirt to stroke her back and they are under a cover.

“Lucy?” whispers Ona.

It’s dark and quiet, people around them are sleeping or watching a movie from the television in front of them.

“What is it, Bonita?” Lucy whispers in answer.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We still can enjoy our time in Las Vegas, we are not forced to get married if you want to change your mind.”

“Are you scared?” Lucy smiles.

“No” Ona answers, putting her head again on Lucy’s shoulder. “I’m only scared that you will regret it the next morning.”

“Never.”

To add power to her answer, Lucy squeezes her harder against her, making Ona smile. She then kisses her hair, even if the shampoo she used isn’t the same one she’s using daily. Her natural scent is still here though, Lucy loves to think that Ona smell like sun, sand, and holidays.

Lucy smiles when she sees Ona yawning, the last days were chaotic. They were great, but very tiring and they haven’t many times to rest. They sleep a lot during the long trip, catching their lake of sleep, before landing to Philadelphia to take another plane.

“People are wondering where we are going” Ona smiles while looking at her messages during their stopover to Philadelphia.

“Tell them Lesbos Island” Lucy answer, looking at Ona’s phone above her shoulder.

Ona rolls her eyes and bite in the croissant she received during the journey. It’s not as good as the one she had in France, but still ok for an empty stomach.

“People are going to be wild when they’ll know” Lucy adds soon after. “How do you think we can say it to them?”

“If we want to keep the clichés, we can send them a picture of us next to a fake Elvis.”

********

They arrive at Las Vegas after several more hours, choosing one of the most expensive suites in the hotel Ona likes the most – The Venetian. Even if the younger one tried to protest, Lucy makes her shut with only one gaze.

“This is wild” Ona mumbles, looking at the view they have from it.

They are on the 36th floor and can see almost everything around. She lost herself in the contemplation of the streets and the lights, while Lucy is busy turning of the air conditioning who is always making her sick, after what she says.

She then takes several seconds to look at Ona, who turned her back at her. She’s smiling while looking at the smaller one. Even if it’s look like a whim, she knows what she’s doing. She was thinking about proposing to Ona for several weeks now, she wanted to do things right with a sweet proposal and everything. She still can make the surprise to Ona when she got the ring.

She is so in love with Ona.

She is so in love and is going to marry her.

It’s sometimes scary for Lucy to admit to herself how much her happiness depends of that wonderful and beautiful girl in front of her. She doesn’t understand how someone like Ona can be interested in her.

Sure, Lucy knows that a lot of people fancy her, she’s not stupid. But she’s older than Ona and she won’t be able to play football for as long as Ona would. But when she talked about it to Ona, the younger girl just smirk and answer that she would like this has a lot of time to choose her clothes for her wagging era.

Feeling a rush of love for the girl in front of her, Lucy breaks the distance between them in three big strides, before embracing Ona from behind.

“What if you’re the one regretting this tomorrow?” Lucy asks quietly, for once letting out some form of vulnerability.

“I won’t” Ona answers.

Her tone is so sure that there is no reason for Lucy to doubt about it. Ona turns around in Lucy’s arms, passing hers around Lucy’s neck.

“T'estimaré per tota la vida” she whispers, before kissing Lucy softly. (I’ll love you for all my life)

Lucy’s progresses in Catalan are prodigious, thanks to her personal teacher, which allows her to easily understand what Ona has just whispered against her lips. She doesn’t have time to answer though, carried away by the extent of Ona’s kiss.

“Is it a way not to leave this room and not to get married, miss Batlle?”

“I can’t believe we’ve done it” Ona mumbles, looking at the pictures on her phone.

They are on their way back to Barcelona, after a stop at Dallas this time. They haven’t said anything to anyone about their marriage, like Lucy said, they will make a ceremony for their families and Lucy even planned a way to offer a magic proposal to Ona with the ring she will find in Barcelona.

She looked for jewelry in Barcelona when Ona fell asleep in her arms after having celebrated their wedding.

“Still no regret?” Lucy whispers, looking at Ona’s phone above the armrest between them.

“Never.”

A sweet smile is on Ona’s face when she looks at her girlfr… wife. Even if they have to make the contract acknowledged in Spain. They are travelling during the day this time and people are obviously more up than during the first fly. Lucy sulks when she realizes that Ona won’t be able to join her on her seat like before, but then Ona grabs her hand and never let it go since. She can live with that.

“I always thought that the big Elvis' was a myth to be honest” Lucy comments when she sees the photo where they are posing next to him. “It was like a movie.”

“Yeah. I liked that movie though; the first actress is hot” Ona smirks.

“The Spaniard with the scar? Yes. Hot and badass.”

********

When Lucy’s back from the England Camp, Ona had the time to make their marriage contract recognized. She went back home from the camp after deciding that it was better for her face that way. She was sad not to be able to play with Leila again, but it was safer that way. She went to training with Patri and Mapi and passed time with Narla and Coco.

She went to take Lucy from the airport and Lucy already started to look for the right ring. She looked for several days before making the choice to have it custom-made. Lucy wants it to be perfect.

They managed to keep the secret for now, the only difference is that Lucy calls Ona “Wifey” at home now and that they can’t keep their hands away of each other. They are not making out in public, but they are impossible to separate. And when they are on each side of one room, they keep look and smile at each other.

“Can you please stay focus and stop drooling on Ona for a second, Bronze?” Mariona asks, hitting Lucy behind her head.

“I’m not drooling” Lucy frowns, showing Mariona away.

“You are” Mariona laughs.

But then Mario’s laugh drags Ona’s attention – who was talking with Salma and Jana - and she smirks at Lucy who kind of forgot why she’s supposed to be mad at her friend. The calm of the room is suddenly broken by a roar coming from Alexia’s voice as soon as she enters it.

“LUCIA ROBERTA TOUGH BRONZE!”

Lucy jumps and look at their captain like a teenager in trouble without knowing what she did bad. But the blonde came right in front of Lucy with a paper, the room suddenly quiet.

Lucy gets pale when she sees the sheet and Ona doesn't need longer explanations to understand what it is. However, Alexia doesn't hesitate to give more details.

“I was helping the administrative team to make the papers for our next trip, and they told me about this funny mistake, like they said. I did my research and it’s look like it isn’t actually a mistake. So will you please tell me why and how in the world it is written black on white that you are married to Ona Batlle Pascual?”

Ona makes a grimace when she feels almost all the eyes on the room going on her. It isn’t the way she wanted to tell people, but she can see Mapi from the corner of her eyes who seems to have the time of her life.

“You choose Lucy, Oni? What about us?” Jana jokes, but she is suddenly silent when she crosses Alexia’s eyes.

“Come on Ale’, what was I supposed to do? Ask you before asking her?” Lucy rolls her eyes.

“Well at least. Then I would have refused and took Ona on a secret island” Alexia groans.

“Your kids are growing up, Alexia, get over it” Irene says, patting Alexia shoulders. “Ask Pina about her love life, you’ll be stunned” she adds, before leaving the room.

“WHAT?!”

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 8

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hi lovelies! Plz don’t forget to like & rb. It means the world to me! :)

Remy’s POV

“Look at you. You don’t even respect your fucking self, man.” Billie mumbled, barely making any sense. Her eyes looked angry, bothered, annoyed. It wasn’t her.

“Let’s go home, you’re drunk as fuck. You don’t mean that.”

She swayed to the bass in place, slightly nodding her head to the beat. I didn’t even notice how much time had passed, standing there awkwardly to the side of the dance floor. Finneas came up to us. He had probably seen her yank her arm away and wondered what was going on.

“Let’s head out. She’s had too much.” I pointed towards the exit.

He took one look at her and nodded, calling the car out to the front.

“No! Fuck it, I do mean it. You’re too fucking scared to take a risk, so you keep sitting in your fucking office hoping one day you’ll do more than shred paper.”

That stung. I ignored her as Finneas and Claudia began to walk her outside. I wasn’t much of a help since I was struggling on my feet too.

“When I get back, you’ll be right where I left you. You’re not gonna go anywhere working for a fucking pig like him.”

“Is that what you think, Billie? What else?” I knew it wasn’t a good idea to argue back, but I didn’t care what state of mind she was in. I couldn’t believe she was saying any of this to me.

“Let’s just get in the car, Rem. She’s too fucked up, she doesn’t know what-“ Claudia shook her head.

“No! I’m not! And I’d like to- I want you to know I’m so serious. You let everyone treat you like shit! Your fucking ex, your boss, your parents!” She pointed.

“Shut up, Billie! Stop talking!” I put her seatbelt on her, struggling to put the buckle in the hole the first few times as Finneas drove off.

“Who took care of you when that motherfucker left you for another bitch?! Who lived with you and held you all day and night, and fed you, and made you whole again?” She shouted, scrambling her words, closing her eyes for emphasis.

“You want to throw that in my face now?” I was pissed. How dare she bring that up. There was no need to be that petty. I didn’t understand what brought this on her. She had never said anything so mean before. I knew it was the alcohol talking, but this hurt deep.

“And now! You’re just gonna leave me!” She pointed her finger.

“Leave you? Like you said, I’m not going anywhere! You’re the one leaving me!”

“She doesn’t mean any of this Rem, just ignore her.” Finneas reassured me, trying to deescalate the situation.

“No, say how you really feel, Billie!” I looked at her, squinting.

“You don’t believe in your fucking self! You beg me to believe in you, when you won’t even give yourself a fucking chance!” Her eyes closed as she tried to be louder.

“Oh, is that why you boss me around and tell me what to do with my life? Because you think I could do so much better being your fucking groupie?” I snapped back.

“You might as well be my fucking groupie! Better than being assistant TO the groupie!”

“You wish! So I could clap for you and gas you up every night? Like everyone else does?” I shouted back.

“Well, it’d be nice to have you be there for me once in a while, instead of putting work first like you always do!” Billie crossed her arms.

“You KNOW I can’t just do that!”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. You just wanna stay there and be a martyr so you can have something to complain about!”

“OH! So now I bitch about everything! I thought I kept things to myself and didn’t accept people’s help? Which one is it, Billie?”

“Whatever dude, you wanna be a sexy little office receptionist, and bend over for some bald fuck, and write some bullshit on a magazine, when you know you want to do more with your life.” She waved her hand around, her eyeliner running a little on the corner of her eyes.

“No, that’s your girlfriend Rachel! Weren’t you the one trying to suck her dick so she’d let me hop on a damn column?”

“I was trying to help you, dumbass!”

“I was trying to hang out with my best fucking friend before she travels the world for, like, a year!”

“Right! That’s why you wanted to get fucking wasted tonight! So you wouldn’t even remember our last night together.” Billie got teary eyed, blinking away her anger. “I didn’t even want to drink tonight!”

“No one forced you! You got all weird when that guy talked to me, and you shoved 2 shots consecutively up your ass!”

Claudia looked at Finneas. They shared a look and I wondered what that was about. He turned the corner toward my apartment and turned on his hazard lights.

“No one is concerned with who you wanna make out with, Remy!” She mumbled.

“Except you, because you act like my damn mother anytime anyone even looks at me!” I pointed at her. She stared at my finger, looking nauseous.

“Maybe if you had better judgment I wouldn’t have to fucking-“

“Whatever bro! You don’t get to tell me what to do with my life! And when you get back, you’ll see how fucking wrong you are! And how shitty of a fucking friend-“

“Shitty friend?? Because I want better for you?!” She leaned forward.

“You wouldn’t even know what being wrong feels like! Everyone always tells Billie Eilish yes!” I said, immediately feeling terrible. Immediately feeling like I crossed a line. But she had crossed multiple already.

Her face turned a shade of hurt I hadn’t seen before.

“No, fuck that! Fuck you, Remy!” She yelled.

“Fuck you, too!” I open the door and slam it, walking out before the car was even in park. Finneas fully stopped the car and ran out. He walked me to the door as I keyed in the code.

“I wanna make sure you get inside safely.” He held the door open for me when it unlocked. “God, I’m sorry, that was a lot.”

I held back tears and rubbed my arms, feeling the midnight breeze give me goosebumps before quickly walking in.

“She’s definitely not in the right mindset and I really don’t think she meant to be that-“

“Honest?” I asked, tears starting to stream down my face. “I think she did.” I called the elevator, pressing the button 18 times.

“Remy, she loves you. More than you think. You’re everything to- She just-“

“It doesn’t matter, Finneas. That fucking hurt. Drunk or not.“ I stepped into the elevator as the door slid open.

“Please, Rem. Listen, I know she was pushing it. I’m not gonna make excuses-“ He was visibly frustrated, pushing his hair back as he spoke. “And trust me, she’s going to feel like such a dick tomorrow-“

“I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it anymore from-“

The elevator door began to slide, when he stuck his hand in the way to stop it from closing. “Promise me you’ll see her tomorrow before she leaves for tour.” He looked serious, as if it would change anything. As if seeing her tomorrow would make it hurt any less.

I didn’t say anything. I just leaned back on the elevator wall, crossing my arms.

“Please. Think about it… I’m sorry, Remy. Have a good night.” He nodded, removing his hand and letting the door shut. My heart dropped as the elevator rose to the 5th floor.

In my apartment, I got ready for bed and threw myself into the pillows. My head spun and throbbed as the effects of alcohol slowly left my body. I knew everything would hurt tomorrow morning. I stared at my ceiling, hoping to fall asleep. I thought about Billie’s face when she said those things. When she told me I’d stay exactly where she left me. How can I give up all the hard work I’ve put in. I wonder if she was ever proud of me. I wonder if she knows how much I care about what she thinks of me. I thought about her face when I practically told her she doesn’t know what no means. I thought about her face when she told me “fuck you”. I wonder if tomorrow she’ll be hurting about all this as much as I am right now. We’d never spoken to each other like this before. It felt like she wanted to say more than she actually did…

Eventually my eyelids became heavy, and I drifted into a deep, deep sleep.

******

My eyelids slowly blinked open, staring at my wall. I groaned, stretching and turning on my other side. The light from my window was so uncalled for, causing me to squint and curl up into a ball. My head pounded, reminding me of the events last night.

“Oh shit.” I gasped, grabbing my phone faster than my brain could register. It was 1:02pm and a missed call from Billie displayed on my screen. I put my passcode in, messing up twice before finally being able to call back. The phone rang for a while. I sat up in bed, impatiently. No answer. I had overslept and didn’t have a chance to say good bye before she left on the tour bus. She was probably so angry at me. I remembered how much she hurt me last night, the words all freshly dancing around in my mind. I didn’t know what to make of it, but clearly she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I figured if she did, she’d call back.

I threw my phone at the foot of the bed and pulled the covers over my head, wishing away the awful headache. I closed my eyes and tried my best to fall back asleep so I didn’t have to think. Obviously, that didn’t work out. My brain wanted to walk me through the least blurry bits of our fight instead.

I threw the covers off and got up, going straight for the medicine cabinet and taking some Advil, dry. I rotted into the couch for the rest of the day, watching the tv show I wasn’t allowed to watch without her. I don’t know if I did it out of spite or to feel close to her. I’m sure she’ll be watching it without me anyway.

Each time I checked my phone for any calls or texts, my stomach did this weird flip thing. I waited all day to receive anything from her to no avail.

Around 8pm, I realize I haven’t had a bite to eat. As I put some almond butter toast on a plate, my phone dinged. I pulled it out of my pocket to see Billie had posted on instagram. An update to her fans letting them know she was on the road, and excited to see them in Quebec, Canada.

I made it a point to like the insta story post, so she knows that I know she’s ignoring me. This is bullshit, I thought. How petty, I thought, the irony going straight over my head.

[garez19]

let’s talk about a yandere childhood friend and his ill-spirited darling who doesn’t mind using his affection.

tw: bullying

your childhood friend of years cherished you from the bottom of his heart, which was obvious to anyone who looked at your way. and it was not like it was hard to understand why —at least what he told himself. you taught him pretty much everything. growing up with you, he had always been so used to your presence, and it wasn’t in an unhealthy way, he supposed, it was just how best friends were supposed to be like.

and you liked it. although there were times you found him extremely annoying and just felt like telling him to fuck off, you knew he didn’t mean ill. he was there to help. never did he do anything that benefited him more than it benefited you.

so you eventually started to slack off. it started with pure laziness that was led by his strong desire to provide comfort. you’d stopped bringing lunches because he never failed to show up with two packs of if. it tasted amazing, you told him most of the time.

you didn’t lose sleep over projects or exams anymore, as he was always there to get you through them. you didn’t have to stress about anything regarding school as long as you were classmates.

and then it hit you. the comfort made your vision blurry. you weren’t doing anything beneficial for yourself, and instead you were just ordering him around. there were even times you forgot to reply when someone asked you something because he was there to do it. hell, he was there to do anything for you.

so you then took it to the next level. you still didn’t need to pack lunches, and you wanted to get higher education. so he tutored you almost like a professional—for absolutely free.

he was totally okay with anything you said, and you never realized that was not how regular friendship dynamics were like. not until you’d witnessed human connections. they were okay, sure, but they weren’t as obedient as him. they weren’t just going to apologize with a dull expression whenever you told them to shut up, and they weren’t going to act like saints when you’d been nothing but rude to them.

but at least he was still by your side. at least you still had someone to complain to, you told yourself.

and when you grumbled about how your friends were being horrible to you -they weren’t- you didn’t expect him to do anything about it this time. after all, there were limited things he could do about your relationships with people.

limited, but not zero.

you were shocked to see your friends coming up to you to make amends. some of them caught you in the hallway, some sat right next to you in the class. all of them had an expression that somehow revealed they weren’t 100% willing about the whole situation, and you were quick to realize the reason.

you didn’t ask him. and you knew he wouldn’t have confirmed it anyway.

you didn’t really need anyone anyway, that was when you’d decided. and your so-called friends didn’t deserve you as they failed to realize you’d been nothing but docile and understanding. you didn’t need anyone. you would never.

and you weren’t going to be as forgiving once people did you dirty anymore.

so when you came running to him crying, you knew he was going to be furious. there was no doubt he would take care of it—quickly and quietly, with threats or bribes, or maybe even more than that.

you told him how this girl from your art class kept bullying you, how she called you names and how you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve such treatment. he hushed you calmly as he repeated you’d never deserve that. you’d never deserve anything but the very best because oh, you were the sweetest girl he’d ever met. such a kind soul you had.

you smiled at him. he smiled back.

***

“don’t call me a bitch ever again, you hear me?” you told her.

“I apologize.” she answered on her knees—eyes on the ground.

“and don’t wear these shorts again, they don’t suit you at all.” you huffed.

she slowly nodded as you left the classroom, messaging about him about lunch as you walked.

[relaxxattack]

Piggybacking off the last anon, what is it you like about Jane so much? I find my feelings on her kind of mixed but I lean towards positive.

okay i haven’t read act six in probably like 5 years so bear with me here. *cracks knuckles*

jane is sooo so interesting and it’s really a shame people miss like everything fun about her.

pre-scratch she used her detective work to literally succeed at tearing down the crocker cooperation, to the point that HIC has to fucking abandon ship and head into another universe to have another shot at her evil empire. pre-scratch jane is also fucking hilarious! if you didnt enjoy her antics with john as nannasprite you must just have no heart

meanwhile HIC breaches a new universe, and her FIRST fucking order of business is to NEUTRALIZE JANE CROCKER because of how goddamn detrimental she was to HIC’s plans the first time around.

not ONLY does HIC pump subliminal messaging and brainwashing into nearly every aspect of jane’s life, she also tries to straight up mind control her basically whenever possible! she ALSO sends assassination attempts after jane 24/7! (people will seriously try to say that jane lived a safe normal life… as if she wasn’t almost killed by walking into her backyard.) this is because HIC is fucking scared of jane, as she very well should be!

jane is also NOT a boring weepy annoying crybaby like everyone and their mother complains about. jane is literally the most fucking supportive friend and emotion-repressing dumbass you could ever hope to meet. jane combines john’s emotional repression and jade’s intentional cheerfulness together into one of the most fucked up cases of emotional repression in the whole comic

act 6 suffers from a LOT of shitty writing choices, but it’s not jane’s fault the whole act turns into a soap opera— and she’s ALSO not the only one who acts all soap-opera-y either! literally all of the alpha kids suffer from this, people just like jane the least so they project it all onto her. despite the fact that she did her very fucking best to NEVER talk about her feelings, to the point where she ONLY started telling people about shit when she was mind-controlled or took mind altering substances to make her do so! and you can say “ohhh that’s stupid she shouldn’t repress things in the first place how dumb” but, one she’s sixteen, and two, everyone eats that shit up when it comes from like. literally any other character.

people (cough hs2 writers) act like she would actually be “pushy” with a relationship on jake— as if she wasn’t literally the one who helped him make the decision to explore dating dirk?? because she thought it was the right thing to do???

jane is incredibly thoughtful and mature and people really throw all of those traits out of the window with preference for a version of the story where she Comes Inbetween Their Fave Gay Pairing as if she wasn’t, again, the one who got them together. jane is also extremely interesting in terms of queerness; she’s got the makings of a really interesting arc, not to mention she’s the only human girl that dresses mainly masc! there’s a lot there that people just don’t care to explore.

people just have less patience for the prospit kids in general. not to mention homestuck fans love to be misogynistic and berate jane for stuff they love the men doing, or claim she’s coming between them when she’s not, etc etc. and then because no one was writing fun meta posts about her, nobody ever rereads the comic to grab little scenes or lines to expand the online discussion about her! and then because there’s no discussion about her, people assume she’s boring and don’t go looking for bits to start discussing, which cycles on and on forever until we have the ripple effects we see of that misogyny today. which mostly consists of, “oh i hate jane because she was a villain is hs2”, or, “i know hs2 isn’t canon but i still don’t care for jane because she doesn’t do anything that interests me.” (and she’s only not interesting because of the cycle i mentioned before causing NO ONE to have meta discussion about her).

idk, it’s been a while since ive read so i could be talking out my ass but that’s what i’ve got.

TL;DR: jane is fucking COOL, she just suffers from intentional fandom ignorance. and she’s also a canonically hot, fat, masc woman, so i don’t know what else you could possibly want.