#I’m sure they added him to go: look! another twist

[ay4tou]

Ahh helloo, its my first time being here💛💛 may i ask for fluff goo x reader, in which goo is having a BAD bad day—that he could crush the world (lol)—, then later in the middle of the night both of them decided to do tender exploration of intimacy (not in sexual way), like exploring each others' bodies, finding different birthmarks, looking over each others' scars, sharing the stories behind them, etc, just appreciating the feeling of the other person🥺💛 im sorry if i described this too long😭😭😭 thank u sm in advance🥺💕💕💕

not a bad day | goo kim x reader

summary: the weight in his eyes slips past goo's smile, but you notice. something’s off, and you’re not waiting for him to admit it.

author's note: hi khal, thanks a lot for requesting! took me a bit too long to finish it ehem i was kinda cramming and (stu)dying a bit lately BUT!!!! it's finally done so :D hope you like it! | masterlist

You knew something was wrong before Goo even stepped through the door. You felt like the atmosphere changed. By the time he finally arrived, well, past midnight, he was dragging in the kind of tension that made your stomach twist.

And of course, he greeted you with a smirk.

“Miss me?” the blonde man asked, his voice teasing, leaning into the doorframe with his arms crossed, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey. You look like you’ve been through a blender.” you said plainly, crossing your arms as you watched him kick off his shoes with exaggerated flair.

"But like, a super cool blender, right?" he said, flopping onto the couch. “Like, the kind you see in commercials where they throw a whole pineapple in.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re not fooling me.”

“Fooling you about what?” he asked, leaning back with a lopsided grin. “That I’m perfectly fine? That my day didn’t suck? That I’m not two seconds away from picking a fight with the nearest inanimate object?” He pouted and stomped the ground like a child throwing a tantrum.

You gave him a flat look, arms crossed. “You’re not as convincing as you think you are.”

Goo tilted his head, pretending to think. “You sure? I could win an Oscar for this performance. Maybe even two.”

“Goo Kim.”

You sat down beside him, close enough to feel the tension radiating off him in waves. “What happened?”

“Nothing." he said immediately, waving you off. "No big deal.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

Goo peeked at you from under his arm, expression mixed with playful annoyance and reluctant fondness. “Subtlety is overrated.”

“Sure.” you agreed, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “But that's not going to work on me. I can see that you’re upset.”

For a moment, his smirk faltered, and you caught a glimpse of the exhaustion lurking underneath. But then he was back at it, sitting up and throwing his arms. “Upset? Me? Never! I’m a ray of sunshine, a beacon of joy-”

“Goo. Kim.”

The firmness in your voice made the childish man pause, his shoulders slumping just slightly before he plastered on another grin. “Fine. You win. I’m tired.”

“Tired?” you repeated, unconvinced.

“Tired and mildly annoyed.” he added, leaning back against the couch. “And maybe a little cranky. But that’s it! Definitely nothing catastrophic or emotionally devastating. Nope.”

You sighed, shifting closer to him. Goo stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away. “You don’t have to joke your way through everything, you know. It’s okay to express your feelings once in a while.”

“Bold of you to assume I have feelings.” he quipped, but his voice was softer now, the sharp edges of his humor dulling.

Without a word, you reached for his hand. Goo hesitated, his fingers twitching before finally giving in and letting you hold it. His palm was cold, but his grip was firm, like he was anchoring himself to you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the weight of the day settling between you. It wasn’t until much later, when the room was dark and the quiet had stretched long enough, that he spoke again.

“You ever think about how scars are just your body’s way of saying, 'Hey, remember that stupid thing you did?’”

"You got into a fight again?"

"I get into fights all the time, honey. It's just that I got a scar from fighting a while ago."

You blinked at the sudden shift, glancing over to see him fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He’d pulled it up just enough to reveal a scar along his side.

“What the hell did you just do today?” you asked, frowning.

He huffed, but seeing your expression in such a sour face, he couldn't help but grin. Slipping for just a second, he replied, "It was stupid. Got too cocky during a mission and didn’t see the ambush. Should’ve been more careful.”

You nodded, tracing the edge of the scar lightly with your fingertip. “And this one?” you asked, pointing to a faint mark on his forearm.

“Fell out of a tree. I was seven and absolutely convinced I could fly if I jumped high enough.”

And so, the stories came slowly after that. You listened, occasionally sharing your own scars and the tales behind them.

“Wait wait wait wait.” he interrupted at one point, eyes narrowing in mock outrage. “You mean to tell me you got that scar from a lamp?”

“It was a heavy lamp!” you shot back, laughing despite yourself. “And I tripped, okay? Don’t judge.”

“Oh, I’m judging.” he said, but the smile on his face was real this time.

Eventually, the laughter faded, replaced by a quiet stillness as you both leaned back against the couch. His head tipped against your shoulder, his breathing steady and slow.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” he murmured, so soft you almost didn’t catch it.

“For what?”

“Sticking around."

You rested your hand over his, squeezing gently. “Don't worry.”

[supercalime]

If you’re an Ethan Landry fan I hate you with a passion

[peaktora]

𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ˚◞♡ ⃗ satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ your husband is unbearably clingy.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. no pronouns used or specified gender for the reader. intended lowercase. established relationship (#married).

a/n. — i’m warning u guys right now that this is not proofread 😭 .. i literally just typed this up rq and posted it bc it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something on here

p.s. the prompt was in my notes from a longgg time ago, but i believe it’s from @/creativepromptsforwriting .. if not please lmk !!

"c'mere, hold my hand," satoru pleads for what has to be the third time. he pouts at you, who’s sitting on the countertop.

your brows furrow as you look up from your phone, "but, you're washing the dishes?”

he twists the faucet handle, and a steady stream of water flows down. after a brief glance at you, he places the plate beneath the water and says, "i know how to multitask, baby."

clinginess is defined as “the tendency to stay near someone for emotional support, protection, ect.” but there has to be another term for what satoru is, because you can't give any of those things while holding his hand right now.

you let out a deep breath and turn off your phone, watching as the screen fades to black. "satoru, there's no way i'm sticking my hand in that dirty dishwater," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket.

he practically shoves the plate into the drying rack. "i can't believe this," he huffs. "we literally had vows."

“what are y—“

“we had vows that said you’d love me in sickness and in health.”

"well…are you sick?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

he pauses his task of washing dishes, leaving them untouched. leaning over the sink, he rests his arms against its edge. he steals a furtive glance at you, only to find your gaze locked onto him. with a hint of hesitation, he softly mumbles, "no..." before you can respond, he interrupts, "but i’m in health, and the vows said that you have to love and cherish me in this state too."

you lean back, searching your mind for what the alternative of holding his hand would be. because in no world would you hold his hand in dishwasher. then, it hits you. "for now, would a hug make you feel better?"

he answers your question with a hum, and you can't believe he's debating whether or not to accept your offer after all that drama over holding hands in dishwater. even so, he adds, "i'll have to give it some thought."

two can play that game.

“it’s okay,” you say, gracefully hopping down from the counter. a smirk spreads across your face. “i could just go—sit on the couch?” slowly, you start to walk in his direction and make your way over to the living room.

he doesn’t say anything, letting you do as you please. it’s not until you start to pass by him, that you get the reaction you wanted.

or atleast, somewhat similar to what you wanted.

"on second thought—" he exclaims, and the dishwater swirls around him as he turns around, his hands still wet and dripping.

you cringe as small puddles gather on the tiles. "hey—" but he interrupts you as he reaches out to grab your wrist. “ew—I—what the hell?”

you instinctively try to pull back, but he slips his wet hand in yours; sealing your fate.

“satoru—”

“what happened to nicknames?”

“satoru.”

"’m not sure who that is. i go by a lot of names, but not that one. lets go down the list, yeah?” he clears his throat. “i go by "babe, baby, swe—"

"you should consider adding "gojo" to that list."

"now, when have you ever called me gojo?”

"right now, in exactly ten seconds.” your husband gasps, hanging his mouth open. “satoru go—"

“woah woah woah—what’d i do to deserve this treatment?”

“you put your dirty dishwater hand in mine.” you jerk your hand back, struggling to escape free of his grip.

his grip tightens on your hand, “if you’re feeling like not loving me today then just say that.”

“hey—don’t discredit me. i offered you a hug and you said you had to “think” about it.”

“cause holding your hand ‘s better.”

you sigh, “after you’re done with the dishes, you can hold my hand as long as you want.“

he lets out a soft, thoughtful hum—the same hum that got you both into this situation in the first place. at the same time you shake your head, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and a smile twists onto the edges of his lips. "deal" he says, shaking your hand. “but before-“

you tsk, making him drop his excuse.

“wh—“

"the quicker these dishes get done, the quicker you’ll be able to hold my hand. so get on with it—go," you playfully command, and his grip loosens in response. seizing the opportunity, you slide your hand out of his grasp. you look down at it, seeing bits of food that’ve stuck to your palm. gross.

you walk over to the sink, feeling the cool water flow over your hand, washing away the food and dirt that clung to your skin. as you stand there, you hear satoru's voice grumbling from behind, "i hate doing dishes,” and you can’t help but snort.

before you know it, you feel his presence close behind you, his body pressing against yours. his arms encircle you, creating a cozy pocket of space between the counter and his body. satoru leans over your shoulder, gets a sponge from the soapy water, and starts washing a bowl. you simply lean back and look at his features.

the sight almost makes you want to stay in his arms forever. that is, until you realize the predicament you're in.

“you did not,” you whine. you desperately try to break free from the cage he’s trapped you in, but your attempts prove more and more pointless.

"oh, yes, i did," he declares with a smile. “what did you say earlier?" he clears his throat before proceeding. "the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you'll be able to hold my hand," he says, mockingly imitating your tone. "so, the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you can leave and do anything you want."

you sulk and moan while you reluctantly grab a dish and a spare sponge from the sink. “i hate you.”

“i love you more.”

[littlelamy]

could you do one where rafe and reader have known each other since they were kids. where they played pretend marriage and rafe has always believed it was real even when they were kids and some girl tries to come between that but it doesn’t happen.

love your writing

a/n: thank you so much! I hope you enjoy it! 💗🤍

rafe cameron had always been a part of your life. from the time you were toddlers, running through your backyard with imaginary crowns on your heads, to the moment you both said your pretend vows underneath that old oak tree. you were six, maybe seven, and it had been all fun and games—at least for you. rafe, on the other hand, took the "marriage" very seriously, even as kids. "you're my wife now," he’d say with a grin, tugging you along whenever someone tried to play with you. you always brushed it off as rafe just being rafe.

but now, as you stood at another one of toppers' parties, you noticed something had shifted. maybe it was the way rafe had been more possessive lately, a hand always at your waist, or the way he’d glare at any guy who got too close. then there was jessica—new girl, pretty, and definitely interested in rafe.

“so, are you and rafe, like, together?” she asked you casually one day at school, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. there was something smug in her tone that made your skin crawl.

“we’re just friends,” you said, even though the words felt wrong coming out of your mouth. were you really just friends?

"oh, that’s good to know," jessica had smirked, and you knew she had plans.

tonight, you watched from the corner of the room as she slid up to rafe, placing a hand on his arm and laughing a little too loud at something he said. your stomach twisted, but you told yourself it didn’t matter. you and rafe were just friends—childhood friends with a long history of playing pretend, but that was it. still, your feet started moving before you could stop them, weaving through the crowd toward them.

“hey, rafe,” you called out, slipping into the space between him and jessica like it was the most natural thing in the world. his eyes lit up when he saw you, that same boyish smile he’d always had whenever you were near.

“there you are,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder like it belonged there. and maybe it did.

jessica’s expression faltered for just a second before she plastered on another smile. “oh, hey. i was just telling rafe we should go out sometime. get to know each other better.”

before you could even process her words, rafe chuckled. “yeah, i’m gonna have to pass on that.”

jessica blinked, clearly thrown off. “what? why?”

rafe’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, his hand absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair. “i’m already married,” he said, his tone light but firm.

you froze, heart pounding. "rafe—"

"we got married when we were seven," he added with a grin, not giving you a chance to finish. "i’ve been off the market since then."

jessica laughed awkwardly, clearly not getting the joke. “wait, you’re serious?”

rafe shrugged, pulling you closer. “dead serious.”

it took everything in you not to laugh at the confused look on jessica’s face, but the truth was, you didn’t know if rafe was actually joking. he looked so calm, so sure of himself, like this was the most natural thing in the world. like he really did believe you were his wife, even now.

“uh, okay. whatever,” jessica muttered, clearly flustered as she backed away, shooting you a look before disappearing into the crowd.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking up at rafe. “what was that?”

he raised an eyebrow. “what was what?”

“you just told her we were married!”

rafe grinned down at you, his blue eyes sparkling. “because we are. or did you forget?”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “rafe, we were kids. that doesn’t count.”

“it counts to me,” he said, his voice softening. “you promised, remember? you said you’d always be mine.”

your heart skipped a beat. “we were pretending.”

“maybe you were,” he shrugged. “but i wasn’t.”

you stared at him, unsure of what to say. all these years, you thought it was just a silly childhood game, something you both would laugh about when you got older. but rafe... he had never stopped believing it.

“rafe…” you started, but he cut you off, stepping closer so that his forehead nearly touched yours.

“you’re mine,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “and i’m yours. it’s always been that way.”

suddenly, the party seemed to fade away, the sounds of people laughing and music blaring becoming a distant hum. all you could focus on was rafe—his words, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

and maybe you were.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[strcwbrryklss]

Could u do a fic similar to ur mustang fic, but the storyline being she moves next to him and her brother and him get close cos her mum begins to become friends with his mum so she has to come over a lot and ends up being obsessed with him

୨୧﹕ privacy .ᐟ oneshot

pairing ; au!nicholas chavez x fem!reader contains ; 80s alternate universe , brother’s best friend , tension. a/n ; 1980s alternate universe where nicholas is a rich kid. summary ; after y/n’s family moves house, her neighbour (and brother’s best friend) catches her eye.

THERE’S SOMETHING SO attractive about a man who is forbidden. maybe it’s the fantasy of it: the yearning for something that is just out of reach. it’s almost as if you’re looking at him through a glass wall, but all you can do is look.

y/n laid on her bed in front of her window, looking into the house next door. coincidentally, nicholas’ bedroom window was opposite her’s. she wasn’t sure he realised yet, but she sure did, and the lack of curtains on his end didn’t help.

she’d glance outside her window for a moment sometimes and be met with the sight of him and a girl, a different one every time. and it’s not that y/n was nosey, but what type of jerk brings a new girl home every other day?

whatever, it was none of her business. her fingers absentmindedly twisted a strand of hair as her mind wandered. suddenly, the shrill ring of the house phone cut through the peaceful haze of her afternoon. she groaned, tossing the magazine aside, and reluctantly swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It was always a race to answer the phone before someone else picked up or, worse, before the answering machine clicked on. downstairs, she heard it ring again, and she bolted for the hallway.

her feet hit the marble steps, carefully rushing down them in order to not slip (trust me, she’s learned her lesson) as she took them two at a time, and she reached for the phone just as it rang a third time. the long, coiled cord dangled like a snake as she brought the heavy receiver to her ear.

“hello?” she sighed.

“hey, y/n, it's me,” her brother's voice crackled through the line.

the girl rolled her eyes. he had been out all day, probably hanging out with his basketball friends from down the street. “what do you want?”

“i, uh... i left my watch at the chavez'.”

“okay?” she leaned against the doorframe, already regretting picking up the call.

“in the bathroom,” he added sheepishly. “i kinda need you to go get it for me.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “you want me to go to the neighbors' house and ask them for your stupid watch?”

“please?” he sounded desperate. “mom’s gonna freak if she finds out i lost it again. it’s the one grandma got me, remember?”

y/n sighed dramatically, twisting the cord around her fingers. she hated doing her brother’s errands. “why don't you go get it?”

“i'm, uh, not really around right now.”

“not around?” she scowled, though she knew he couldn't see it. “what, are you in another dimension or something?”

“i'm at the arcade,” her brother admitted. “and i can’t leave right now i’m with someone”

y/n gasped jokingly before mocking him, “you’ve got a girlfriend, you’ve got a girlfri-”

“shut up” he responded.

“why don’t you ask nick?” she moved on.

“if i call their phone his mom might pick up and i’ll have to explain and then she might tell-” he rambled before being cut off by the annoyed groan of his sister.

she could practically hear the grin on his face, knowing he'd dodged responsibility again. she thought about arguing but decided it wasn't worth the effort. “fine,” she huffed. “but you owe me.”

“alright, thanks bye!” her brother said quickly, relief flooding his voice before quickly hanging up on her.

with that, she made her way across the manicured lawns toward nick’s place. his family’s house, a massive mediterranean-style mansion, was just a short walk away. she’d been over a few times for pool parties and get-togethers, but it was always when his parents were throwing some lavish event. now, though, it was quiet, and she wasn’t sure if anyone was even home.

the front door was open slightly, and y/n knocked, stepping into the cool air-conditioned hallway when there was no answer.

“nicholas?” she called out, but was greeted by silence, except for the distant hum of music playing from somewhere upstairs.

the girl figured he must be in his room or something, so she headed up the grand staircase, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom her brother had mentioned. the marble floors were cool beneath her feet, and the whole house had that expensive, freshly cleaned smell that only rich homes seemed to have. don’t get me wrong, y/n was rich, but not this rich.

as she reached the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar, steam seeping out into the hallway. before she could knock, the door opened, and there stood nick, freshly out of the shower, a towel hanging loosely around his waist, his skin still glistening with water droplets.

y/n froze.

his eyes widened, clearly just as surprised to see her. his hair was damp, hanging messily over his forehead, and the sight of him standing there, looking every bit like a golden god, left y/n momentarily speechless.

“y/n?” he said, his voice smooth but amused. “what are you doing here?”

she swallowed, trying to find her voice. “um, my brother… he left his watch here earlier. i came to get it.”

nick chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, his towel shifting dangerously low on his hips, revealing his very noticeable v-line. “ah, the infamous watch.” he nodded back toward the counter inside the bathroom. “it’s right there.”

she glanced past him and spotted the watch sitting next to the sink. but her eyes didn’t stay on the watch for long, not with nicholas standing right in front of her like that, all muscles and damp skin. she could feel her cheeks heating up, and she hoped he didn’t notice.

“thanks,” she mumbled, stepping forward to grab it, but not before catching the faint scent of his aftershave. it was intoxicating.

just as she reached for the watch, he shifted, his arm brushing against hers. she couldn’t help but look up, meeting his eyes, which were gleaming with that signature smirk of his.

“you know,” he said, his voice low, “you didn’t have to come all the way over here for that. i could’ve brought it over later.”

her heart was racing now, and she tried to play it cool. “i didn’t want to bother you”

nick raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “bother me? y/n, you’re never a bother, you’re my best friend’s sister after all.” his gaze lingered on her for a moment, the air between them thick with tension.

she quickly snatched the watch off the counter, stepping back. “well, i’ve got it now, so I’ll just…go.”

the boy chuckled, taking a step forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “you don’t have to rush off. why don’t you hang out for a bit? i was about to make some food, and i could use some company.”

she hesitated, the idea of staying here, alone with nick, both thrilling and terrifying. the way he was looking at her — like she was the only thing in the room that mattered — made it hard to think straight.

“i don’t know,” she said, biting her lip.

he grinned, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “come on, y/n. stay.”

it wasn’t really a question.

and before she could talk herself out of it, she nodded.

[angelkhi]

friend of a friend - b.b, s.r

pairing: steve rogers x f!reader x bucky barnes

summary: steve’s girl is feeling needy, maybe bucky can benefit from it too.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), oral (m+f), masturbation (m), wet humping, cum play, praise, steve calls her a whore like once? language, exhibitionism, voyeurism??? slight oral fixation on readers part??? yeah okay that’s it.

word count: 2.7k

a little note: i missed the boys and felt particularly unhinged. also endgame ending doesn’t exist. anyway, it’s fuckin nasty and i’m going to hell xo

You like seeing Steve like this. Boisterous and carefree, sipping a beer on the couch. It's normal. He deserves it.

Bucky sits across from him, detailing his recent mission with Sam. Their weekly chats often turned out like this, in between a short period of reminiscing and talking about whatever game had been shown that week, it always comes back to work. There's a hint of longing in Steve's voice when they talk like this. You know he misses it, how couldn't he? Its all he's ever known. But he insists he's done, and you believe him.

You're not entirely sure where their conversation is now, having zoned out some time earlier. Sat between Steve's legs, head rested on his thigh your mind had easily drifted.

You can't help your slight obsession with Steve's thighs. Even in a simple pair of joggers, the stiff outline of his toned muscles are fully on display. Each expertly sculpted ridge shifts between your cheek each time he moves or laughs. It's distracting, more than that.

You often find yourself nuzzling into the soft material just to get closer to the part of him you love so much. Steve’s fingers catch a lock of you hair, twisting and pulling on it every now and again, the action both soothing and adding to the deep tension threatening to boil over in your stomach.

His booming laugh filters through the room, his thigh flexing beneath you once more. It’s not normal, you think to yourself as you not so subtly press your skin against him, the fabric swallowing your helpless whine.

You sit like this for most of the afternoon, until it slowly turns to evening. Desperate and whining quietly to yourself. Your thighs clench periodically, and you have to stop glancing at the clock, secretly hating yourself for wishing it was time for Bucky to leave.

You’re so wrapped up in keeping your arousal at bay, in the warmth of Steve’s thighs you don’t notice the slight lull in conversation, nor do you notice Bucky leave the room to get another beer.

Steve strokes your head for a moment, his fingers igniting your skin as they slowly trail across your jaw. He tilts your head until you’re looking at him, a small knowing smile on his face.

“You doin’ okay down there?” He smiles, his thumb strokes your chin ever so gently, but the touch alone is enough to make you want to cry. Your need for him is far beyond your control and at this point, you’d take what you can get.

You nod, sandwiched between his calloused fingers and warm thigh. He tsks quietly and releases your chin, shifting back in his seat to widen his thighs. He watches quietly as your wide eyes glisten, immediately fixating on his clothed crotch.

“I’ve been neglecting my girl.” He shakes his head a little, smile turning to a smirk as he marvels in how transfixed you are. “Does my baby need some attention?”

His thumb traces your bottom lip, your mouth opening instantly desperate to taste him. You nod slightly, lips wrapped around his thumb, fingers clutching his calf tightly. He pushes down on your tongue, slipping deeper into your mouth, groaning quietly when your throat vibrates around his digit as you moan.

That slight bit of relief is enough to calm you for a moment, but your need rears it’s desperate head and you know you need more. Steve doesn’t move when Bucky walks back in and hands him a fresh beer. He just thanks him, eyes never leaving you.

Bucky isn’t phased returning to his chair without question. The idea of Bucky spectating your desperate state should be embarrassing enough to make you snap away from Steve. Instead you suckle on his thumb even harsher, looking up at him as he sips from his beer like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Steve pulls his thumb free, pressing it against your shining lip and more leans forward, the malted beverage heavy on his breath.

“M’gonna fill that pretty mouth up, just like you want me to.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Surely he isn’t being serious. Not with Bucky watching you both. Somehow the thought doesn’t deter you as much as it adds to the growing arousal, your cunt clenching around nothing.

Your eyes flick to where Bucky is now seated. You'd believe he's as relaxed as Steve if it weren't for the beer bottle clutched between his white knuckles. His lips are slightly parted in curiosity, pretty blue eyes dark with promise, watching you and Steve.

“Go ahead.” Bucky says it so simply with an encouraging nod, taking a languid sip from his beer.

“You gonna show him how good you are for me?” You nod hurriedly, watching as he puts his beer down, and does only that.

“Gotta hear the words honey.” His hand rests on waistband of his sweats, waiting.

“Please.” You speak through your the foggy haze clouding your brain. “Let me suck your cock, Stevie.”

“Attagirl.” He pulls down the elastic, letting it rest just below his knees. He knows how much you love his thighs, and secretly loves the way you mark them up, claiming another part of him that he gives to you so willingly.

Unsurprisingly, you press your lips to his inner thighs the first chance you get. The light dusting of golden hair tickles your lips when you suck dark bruises onto his unmarred skin, lightly tracing them with a light scrape of your teeth, earning an illicit moan from him.

When you’ve had your fill of his broad thighs, they’re littered with tiny marks and the slightest indent of your teeth in certain places.

Your finger lightly traces the underside of his cock, trailing up to the head and stroking over the slit. It shines brightly under the dim light and you actually salivate knowing you get to taste him. You marvel at Steve’s dick each and every time you see it, it’s curve feels perfect inside of you, the slight girth stretching you out so fucking good, length hitting all the right spots.

You wrap your hand around him in a tight fist, squeezing at the base just how he likes. His head rests back on the couch cushion, exposing his neck. His muscular chest begins to rise and fall slightly quicker as you stroke him.

Finally, you sink your mouth onto him, not bothering to tease him any further, this is for you after all. He’s letting you suck him off in front of his best friend to satisfy your needs, the least you can do is make it worth while.

You bob your head, alternating between long slow strokes and quick harsh suckles. Your hands tug at him, twisting around what you can’t take, revelling in his slight reactions. The way his thighs tense beneath your fingers, the way he sucks in sharp breaths and shudders out increasingly loud groans.

You wonder for a second if this isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this. It spikes a sense of jealously in your chest and you swallow him down even further, not caring that it burns your throat. Pride blooms in your chest when he grips your hair, holding you in place, groaning deeply.

"So good. So good to me." His hips flex, pushing himself against that spot again. "You gonna be this good for Buck? You gonna suck his cock like a fuckin champ?"

You moan around him when he speaks, doing your very best to take him as deep as you possibly can. Your throat closes around him as you gag slightly, the slight brush of his hair ticking your skin.

"That's my girl." His hand rests over yours, hissing when your nails dig into his exposed thighs. He thrusts slowly into your warm mouth, hitting the back of your throat softly, watching as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

His thrusts grow harsher, as does his grip on your hair, but that hand covering yours, the way his thumb strokes reassurance into your skin keeps you grounded. You feel that familiar twitch in your throat as you prepare to take his load, but then he’s tapping you hand and pulling you away from him ever so gently.

You find yourself pouting, desperate to have him fill your mouth again, but then he looks behind you and speaks.

“Go see Buck, looks like he could use some help.” He swipes his thumb through the spit on your chin, and nods to his friend.

The carpet is plush beneath your burning knees and you find yourself crawling between the other man’s thighs. Bucky strokes himself slowly, watching you quietly with that predatory gaze.

He’s not as long as Steve, but where he lacks he makes up for it in girth. Soft veins protrude from beneath his weeping head and you’re sure if you look close enough, you’d see them pulsating with need.

You cover his hand with your own, watching him twitch in your palm, stroking him a few times in a tight grip. You lean forward and swipe your tongue across the rosy head, eyes solely on him. He sighs, shoulders relaxing, his cheeks flushed all sweet and red.

Your tongue is so warm and wet against him as you swirl it across his skin for a few moments before you finally take him in your mouth. It’s vastly different to Steve, the way your mouth stretches wider around him. His head prods the back of your throat slightly quicker, but the thickness has the same effect on your gag reflex.

You get lost in the unfamiliar taste, the slight musk that’s just so Bucky. Steve comes up behind you, tugging at your leggings, keeping you steady with one hand as he pulls them off with the other. He swipes them down, taking your ruined panties with them, discarding the soaked cotton and gripping your thighs, spreading you wider.

“God Steve, she’s a fucking pro.” Bucky’s usually deep voice is instead breathless when he speaks Steve over your shoulder. Steve chuckles knowingly, his hand caressing your bare skin.

“You hear that honey? You’re being so good for us.” You hum in acknowledgement, the praise going straight to your core.

For a moment he just stares at the slick coating your thighs, drawing small patterns across your skin. The moment is strangely intimate, made so by Bucky’s thumb brushing your cheek as he slowly starts to thrust into your mouth.

You feel Steve’s hands resting on your ass before he spreads you open, cool air against your warm wet heat causing you to sigh. He licks a single stripe from your clit, right to your dripping hole, pausing to hear you moan around Bucky’s cock before he does it again and again and again until he’s nose deep in your pussy.

You brace your hands on Bucky’s thighs. breath coming in short pants out of your nose. Steve’s lips wrap around your swollen nub, suckling harshly as he shakes his head, the friction making your eyes roll. His nose prods at your hole, and your nerves are on fire.

You suck harder on Bucky’s cock, alternating between stroking him whilst you lick and suckle on his heavy balls. You feel the ghost of Steve’s fingers against your slit, whimpering when he slides a single finger in right to the knuckle. He works you open slowly, stretching your wet cunt around his finger before adding a second, hooking them inside of you.

Between Bucky fucking your throat and Steve lapping at your cunt like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, you’re not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You want to whine when he pulls his mouth away from you, but the fullness of his fingers satisfies your simmering need.

“Look at you, letting my friend fuck your throat right in front of me.” His fingers don’t let up, bordering on the sweet side of harsh.

“Stevie, fuck that’s so good.” You sound as desperate as ever, lost in Steve and Bucky’s touch.

“Bet you’d let him fuck this pretty cunt if he asked, huh.” Of course you would. The thought alone is wildly arousing. Steve chuckles through his quiet grunts when you clench around him, curving his fingers ever so slightly.

“My pretty little whore.” He half chuckles, though it’s mostly a groan.

He sucks at your clit once more, fingers hooked inside of you and you’re a goner. You pull your mouth away from Bucky, stroking him instead as you gush slightly against Steve’s face. Bucky thrusts up into your hand at your loud moans that only spur Steve on, the orgasm so intense it makes your body slump against Bucky’s thigh.

You find the energy to take Bucky back into your mouth, letting him thrust against your tongue, taking what he needs.

His hips jut harshly, prodding the back of your throat. His hand moulds around the curve of your skull, fingers threaded through your hair guiding your movements. He’s quiet compared to Steve, not speaking unless it’s a quietly muttered fuck, or so good. Sometimes he’ll groan, deep and guttural, but others he’ll catch himself on the edge of a whimper.

Those are your favourite. Making a man as stoic and quiet as him whimper is soon to be your greatest triumph.

You brace yourself on his thighs, shifting one of your hands to wrap around his thick shaft. You work quickly against him, twisting and flicking your wrist, running your thumb just below his weeping head, pressing stray kisses to the bulging veins.

“Buck, put her on your lap” Steve speaks from behind you, squeezing your thigh before Bucky helps you up, manoeuvring your near boneless body on top of his thighs. The bright tip of his cock, smooth with a mix of precum and your spit, nudges your sensitive slit.

You flatten your palm on the underside of his dick, caging him in, grinding your slick cunt against him. He thrusts against you, chasing his release, resolve depleted as he whimpers into your neck. The sound alone is enough to send you over the edge. You keep your eyes on Steve as he watches your cunt writhe against Bucky. There’s a new hunger in his eyes, something you’ve never quite seen before.

Steve sits back on his calves, his fist working over his pretty dick as he watches you cum for a second time, only this time it’s against his best friends cock. He looks so pretty, with his hooded eyes and flushed cheeks all traces of his dominant nature drowned out by his desperation.

Bucky’s whimpers grow louder and his teeth brush against your skin. The hold he has on your hips tightens as his thrusts grow sloppy, and his teeth dig into your shoulder, a truly broken moan shattering through him as he cums. Ropes of white land on your mound, dripping down your slit. You can’t help but moan when he thrusts one final time, his sticky spend and your slick making a near diabolical sound

Moments later Steve, pushes himself up onto his knees, fucking his fist harshly, pushing himself over the edge with a deep, almost growl. You watch through tired eyes when he cums all over your messy cunt, faint droplets of white mingling with Bucks.

He leans back, taking in the sight of your ruined cunt, chest heaving. His fingers prod at your puffy slit one final time, swirling around in the mess three of you had made before he extends his hand to your already open mouth. You suck at them like a woman starved, tongue lapping at the digits until they’re instead slick with your spit.

A silence stretches between the three of you for a moment, before Steve stands, and ticks himself into his sweats. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“So proud of you. You did so well.” His large hands cup your face, eyes searching yours for any discomfort. He finds none.

You watch him leave to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom whilst Bucky presses small kisses to your marked skin and thanks you. You hum, too dazed to speak. When Steve returns, Bucky disappears into the kitchen for a few moments, returning with three bottles of water.

As you slump against the chair, Steve running a warm cloth over you and Bucky holding the water bottle to your lips, you look over at the clock again watching it tick, willing it to stop, hoping that Bucky doesn’t have to leave.

i think we all know by now everything i write sets back feminism a few hundred years. i’m very sorry and i will do it again.

[solxamber]

Hello!! Can I get Octavinelle 7 fluff?

Always, For You. || Jade Leech

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "For you, anything." ; Genre: Fluff

You weren’t blind to who Jade Leech was. A man who thrived in chaos, stirred the pot just because he could, and smiled politely while doing it. People avoided asking for his help because, with Jade, everything came at a cost—whether you realized it or not.

Except when it came to you.

The first time it happened, it seemed insignificant. Grim had accidentally knocked over one of Crewel’s more volatile potions, the sparkling liquid oozing across the table, heading straight for your bag. You froze, unsure whether to grab your things or call for help, but before you could move, Jade stepped in.

“Careful,” he murmured, swiping your bag out of harm’s way with his gloved hands. His movements were graceful, calm, as if he were plucking a rare mushroom in one of his favorite forests. You stared at him in shock as he casually placed your bag on a safe countertop, not even glancing at the bubbling mess behind him.

“Uh… thanks?” you managed, unsure what just happened.

Jade turned to you, that polite, unreadable smile firmly in place. “Think nothing of it.” Then, as he walked away, he added over his shoulder, “For you, anything.”

You were left blinking, your heart doing an awkward little flip.

The second time was more dramatic. Floyd had you in a headlock, cackling about how you had to play some ridiculous game with him during lunch. You were already half-resigned to your fate when Jade appeared out of nowhere.

“Floyd,” he said smoothly, his tone calm but firm. “Let go.”

“C’mon, Jade, I’m just having fun!” Floyd whined but loosened his grip anyway.

Jade’s hand rested on his twin’s shoulder, his smile never faltering. “And I’m sure they appreciate your enthusiasm, but I believe their schedule is rather full today.”

Before you knew it, Floyd had been swept away, leaving you standing there dumbfounded.

“Uh… thanks again?” you called after Jade.

He paused, glanced back, and gave you that same polite smile, though this time his gaze lingered a moment too long. “Anything for you.”

It wasn’t fair, you thought later, as you mulled it over for the hundredth time. Jade didn’t help people out of the goodness of his heart. He liked to meddle, to twist situations to his advantage. And yet… he kept stepping in for you, expecting nothing in return.

The third time, you couldn’t take it anymore. After another ridiculous incident—this time involving him steering you away from an overly enthusiastic Ruggie and a “totally harmless” prank—you confronted him.

“Why do you keep helping me?” you blurted, cornering him in the Mostro Lounge after his shift.

Jade didn’t seem fazed. If anything, he looked amused. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because!” you said, flustered. “You don’t… you don’t just help people! There’s always something in it for you. But with me, you just…” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely as your thoughts tangled.

Jade stepped closer, his mismatched eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Ah, but you’re special.” His voice softened, and you felt your heart stutter as he leaned in, close enough that his words were just for you. “For you, anything. Always.”

His smile wasn’t sharp this time—it was soft, genuine. And it was so much worse because it left you reeling, your cheeks heating as your chest filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

Jade didn’t wait for your response, just straightened and walked away, leaving you standing there, your mind spinning.

You weren’t sure what you’d done to earn his favor, but one thing was clear: Jade Leech had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the room.

Masterlist

[pucksandpower]

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader - Social Media AU

formulagossip added to their story

f1wagupdates

Liked by lightsoutmax, verstappenupdates, and 152,836 others

f1wagupdates Max Verstappen spotted leaving his hotel with a mystery woman this morning after celebrating winning his third World Championship last night. According to sources, the two partied together with the team and friends at a club following his victory before heading back to the hotel. Her face is hidden but rumor has it this could be a new romance for the World Champ. Looks like Max is enjoying the spoils of another successful season!

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lightsoutmax probably just a random groupie, max isn’t the relationship type

dutchlioness no way that’s a groupie

f1wagupdates i’m inclined to agree, they look pretty serious!

formulanone am i crazy or does that look like y/n leclerc to anyone else?

redbulletin you’re crazy

gridgossip i mean i wouldn’t be surprised. i bet this has been going on for a while between them! it would explain how she got the CTO job out of nowhere

f1girlie or she got it because she’s qualified and was literally trained by adrian newey to take over for him? it’s 2024, leave the misogyny at the door

maddermax i don’t think max would get involved with someone from his team

circuitqueen she looks so familiar but i can’t place her! it’s driving me crazy

verstappenupdates whoever she is, i need more details! our world champion’s love life is suddenly looking very interesting 😍

survivetodrive you need to learn how to stay out of drivers’ business

rblover for real! let the man live

maxverstappen1

Liked by y/n_leclerc, redbullracing, and 2,094,617 others

maxverstappen1 Five World Championships!

This one feels extra special because I get to celebrate with the love of my life who has been by my side for over three incredible years now ❤️

So I want to dedicate this championship to Y/N

Seeing Y/N thrive as Red Bull’s Chief Technical Officer and pursue her passion for motorsport after everything she has been through has been so special. Her brilliance and determination inspire me daily, both on and off the track. And her contributions to the team have been invaluable to our success. I am so lucky to have such an incredible partner to share these championships with

Winning races and championships is great but sharing my life with someone as smart, driven and caring as Y/N is the greatest gift I could ever ask for. I truly am the luckiest guy in the world. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us both. Here’s to many more years of continuing to chase our dreams together!

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redbullracing our world champion found his perfect match! wishing you both continued success and happiness 🤩

christianhorner so proud of you two. the ultimate power couple!

danielricciardo i knew something was going on there. congrats you two!

maxverstappen1 you don’t have to pretend like you didn’t know about us

y/n_leclerc you literally third-wheeled our last date night … and the one last month … and the one over summer break

y/n_leclerc i love you with all my heart, champion! thank you for always being my biggest supporter. so blessed to have you in my life 🥰

charles_leclerc how could you do this, y/n? after everything our family did for you?

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*this user has been blocked*

verstappenupdates our guy is all grown up 🥹 you two are goals!

f1wagupdates omg! when did this happen??? why has it been a secret for so long?

lightsoutmax pretty sure they got together the year before y/n was hired by red bull

redbulletin and they probably kept it a secret because people would have found a way to twist it into something negative

officialorangearmy relationship goals to the max! you two are perfect together 🧡

y/n_leclerc

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 473,825 others

y/n_leclerc What a season! Winning a double championship for the second time feels so surreal. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for my incredible team at Red Bull Racing who made this possible through their tireless hard work. We did it 🏆

And most of all, I am grateful for my incredible partner. Max, you’ve supported me every step of the way, encouraging me to follow my dreams and become who I was meant to be. You showed me what true unconditional love feels like

I am where I am now because of you. Your spirit pushes me to achieve greatness. Your kindness lifted me up when I needed it most. Your smile keeps me going on tough days. I couldn’t ask for a better teammate in life ❤️

The future is so bright for us. I can’t wait to see what we create together next. I love you! Let’s keep aiming for the stars ✨

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maxverstappen1 you make me so proud every day! loving and winning with you feels incredible. can’t wait for the rest of our lives together ❤️

redbullracing the ultimate teammate on and off the track! you two are unstoppable 👊

christianhorner red bull is lucky to have such a power pair leading our team. more glory to come!

danielricciardo you guys are relationship goals! congrats champs

charles_leclerc how long until you throw away this “fairytale” like you did our family?

*this comment has been deleted*

*this user has been blocked*

y/n_leclercfanpage our inspiring queen found her king! you give us hope that dreams do come true

f1girlie not me literally crying tears of joy 😭 they are so perfect together

womeninmotorsport seeing powerful women thrive in f1 gives me life 👏

[fastandcarlos]

Bracelet Making : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: to prepare for the concert you're busy making friendship bracelets to swap, only for charles to suddenly decide he wants to join you too

Your eyes widened in confusion as the puzzled expression on Charles’ face shocked you. The endless number of beads that you had was more than he could have ever imagined, unable to take it all in. There were so many different colours, designs and letters, you had plenty in front of you to keep you both entertained for hours. 

“What do you think?” You chuckled as you picked up the elastic, taking some scissors and cutting two lengths of it before tapping the space beside you on the living room floor, inviting Charles to take a seat down beside you. 

He did as you asked, his eyes still wide. “How many bracelets do people actually take to these concerts? We’re going to be here all night making bracelets for tomorrow love,” he commented. 

“But it means we can swap them with other people there.”

Charles took the elastic from you, stretching it a couple of times. He followed your lead as he watched you tie one end so that the beads couldn’t fall off when you beaded them together, getting himself into a little bit of a tangle. 

“What’s the point of making these bracelets if we’re just going to give them to other people?” Charles pondered, running his fingers through some of the beads to get a good look at them. 

When Charles told you that he had managed to get tickets to Taylor Swift you were beyond excited, and as the big fan that you were, you wanted to make the most of the experience. Charles thought you were joking when you suggested making bracelets, but now he found himself with no way back. 

“Where do I even start?” Charles questioned as he picked up one red bead and threaded it through the elastic, watching it hit the bottom where he had tied up his knot. 

“Just make it look nice, trust your instincts,” you tried your best to tell him, “It’s fun being able to swap because loads of other fans will have made bracelets too, it’s a thing to swap them to show friendships amongst all of the fans.” 

Charles nodded as he listened intently to you, “that’s quite a sweet reason. I’ve seen a couple of fans doing this at the paddocks before but I never realised that was the meaning behind it,” he then added. 

The room fell silent as Charles looked through a few of your beads and placed them onto the elastic. His eyes looked closely at what he had done, tipping some of the beads off and rearranging the pattern again so that he was happy with what he saw. 

“You seem to be taking this quite seriously,” you laughed, nudging Charles’ side. His head nodded as he picked up another bead to make sure that his pattern was still followed. 

Once it was on, his eyes turned to look at you. “If I’m giving them to other people then I’ve got to make sure that they look nice, I can’t be given people a lazy bracelet that doesn’t look nice.” 

Charles had watched you for the past couple of days as you began to make bracelets for the concerts, dismissing it pretty quickly.

However, as he saw how focused you were whilst doing it, he began to pay a bit more attention, finding himself interested. When you offered the chance for him to do it with you, he soon said no, but it didn’t take long for you to twist his arm. 

“Do I have to give all the bracelets away or do I get to keep some of them for myself?” 

“You can do whatever you want Charles.” 

Charles hummed in acknowledgement as he reached out for another few beads, threading them on with ease. “I think the first bracelet that I make I want to keep for myself, well, I think I want for the bracelet to be yours rather than anyone else’s.” 

Your eyes flickered to what Charles was doing, noticing that he’d picked up a couple of your letter beads. “What are you writing on that bracelet?” You quizzed, putting your own down for a second to concentrate on him. 

“It’s for me and you,” he proudly smiled, twirling it around so that you could get a better look. “So that anyone who looks our way tomorrow knows that you’re mine.” 

Although Charles had managed to get you into the VIP section of the stadium, he still had concerns. He’d seen the way some fans had treated you at races before, and didn’t want for the same to happen at the concert, especially when you were there to enjoy yourself too. 

He’d seen how you played with some of your bracelets before when you got nervous and knew you’d love to do the same with a bracelet that you knew was made by Charles too. 

The silence that stayed between you both had Charles worrying, concerned that he’d done the wrong thing. “If you don’t like it, I can make it to give to a fan instead, I’m sure you’ll end up with hundreds of bracelets tomorrow night anyway love.” 

Your head immediately shook as Charles spoke. “No. I’d love to wear it. I just didn’t think I’d be the first person that you’d think about when making a bracelet.” 

“You’re always the one occupying my mind,” Charles mused. 

Your eyes rolled as Charles’ attention turned back to his bracelet, determined to make it perfect for you to wear, and hopefully want to show off too. 

It was fascinating for you as you watched the concentration on Charles’ face, a look that you had only ever seen before when he was behind the wheel and fighting for that P1 position. 

After a few minutes, and a bit of a mess from Charles as he tried to tie his bracelet together, he was done. He proudly called your name, stretching the bracelet so that you could slide your hand into it, letting it sit perfectly around your wrist. 

Your smile was wide as you turned your wrist to admire what Charles had made. “This is beautiful Charles; I don’t think I’m going to need any more bracelets for tomorrow now.” 

“Don’t be silly,” he laughed, relieved to see how impressed you were by what Charles had made. “I bet there’s some awesome bracelets that you’ll be given tomorrow, I barely know what I’m doing with all of this.” 

“But none of them are made by you,” you reminded him. 

Charles leant across and pressed a kiss to your cheek, only for your head to come down and rest on his shoulder, forgetting about what you were doing for a few moments. 

“You should make some more of these, I bet they’ll be a few of your fans there tomorrow who would love to have a bracelet from the hottest F1 driver in the world,” you teased. 

Charles’ eyes widened again as you spoke, poking against your cheek. “Maybe one day when I retire I can just go into the bracelet making industry, set up a stall at the entrance to the paddock or something.” 

A chuckle came from you as you listened to Charles’ suggestion, “you’d make a fortune, I bet. I’d say that the bracelet that I’m wearing right now is probably worth a million pounds.” 

Charles’ smile turned up as he watched you fidget with the bracelet that you wore, exactly like how he expected you to. “Come on, we’ve got more bracelets to make, I want to exchange as many of these as possible tomorrow to make some people smile.” 

“How are you somehow more enthusiastic about bracelet making them I am?” 

Charles shrugged, “I’ve got the bug now, I get why you enjoy it so much.” 

“By the way, Taylor would be proud of you making all of these.” 

“I bet she doesn’t even know who I am,” Charles protested. 

“Everyone knows your handsome face, trust me.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[sun-kissy]

hi, my darling!! i love, love, your writing, and just wanted to say that i am obsessed! may i please request scarf (i can't find the emoji) 😭 with our dearest remus? the prompt would be — “is there anything i can say to make this less awkward?”

thank you so much darling! <3 and here’s a scarf for you🧣(found the emoji for you haha 😉)

mistletoe | r.l.

— “Is there anything I can say to make this less awkward?”

remus lupin x reader —★— word count 1.7k

summary: you attend your neighbour, sirius’ christmas party, where remus saves you from a bully before kissing you under the mistletoe :)

cw: fluff, mean bully cormac mclaggen, protective remus <333, reader gets panicky, sirius is a protective + matchmaker friend haha

Your eyes dart around the living room nervously, drink sloshing around the cup in your hand. The music from the speakers is booming, blaring disco lights making it hard to see much. You can’t seem to spot any familiar faces.

Sirius, your next-door neighbour and friend, was throwing a huge Christmas party. All his old friends were there too. You were familiar with them, having seen them quite a bit whenever they went over. And they seemed nice for the most part, if a bit raucous. You think you’d probably feel better around them than stranded in this buzzing, foreign crowd.

You continue taking cautious steps forward, eyes trained on the ground as you push your way through bodies of people dancing and snogging and puking and – fuck.

You don’t even realise that you’ve spilled your drink all over someone until he, not very nicely, alerts you to it.

“Hey!”

It doesn’t occur that he’s calling out to you. Your hearing is all but closed off to the noise of the party.

“Hey – you!” All of a sudden there’s a hand wrapped around your wrist, and you freeze, quickly whipping around to find the source. It feels like your flight or fight mode has been activated, and you’re squirming away before you can even spot his face in the sea of people.

Breaths are loud, deafening in your ears. They might be yours, or maybe they’re those of the crowd starting to gather round. You’re not quite sure.

Your eyes land on him. The buff blonde in front of you, grip tightening around your wrist as he pulls you closer. There’s words coming out of his mouth. Spit landing on your nose. But you can’t seem to make out a thing he’s saying, phrases like stupid girl and bitch slipping through your consciousness and adding fuel to the fire of panic in your throat.

You open your mouth to apologise, though you’re not quite sure what you’ve done. Nothing comes out but a pathetic croak.

The scary man’s voice gets louder and louder. You’ve never quite seen rage in human form, but here he was. Here he was. And he was going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it.

“Hey, man.”

Another voice, getting closer. It’s softer. Gentler. You feel an arm around your waist, and the touch is kind enough to not make you want to pull away.

“Let go of her, please. It was an honest mistake.”

“But this bitch –”

“I said,” you can hear the hint of hardness in the nice man’s voice, “Let go.” Somehow, you know it’s not directed at you. His grip on your waist tightens the slightest bit, but careful not to hurt.

There’s a beat of silence before the harsh hand leaves your wrist. The relief is immediate, the familiar feeling of a come down after a painful high. Your skin doesn’t feel so foreign to you anymore.

“Thank you,” the kind man says from beside you, though he doesn’t sound very grateful. “I’m sure Sirius could spare you one of his shirts, if you’d like.” Once again, there’s no actual apology in his tone.

Without waiting for a reply, you feel yourself being gently steered away. You look around as you walk, spotting expressions of shock and humour and all sorts of funny feelings.

You twist your head to take a look at your saviour, feeling like your heart might stop beating all over again.

Remus Lupin. You liked him more than you knew him.

You’ve seen him a few times at Sirius’ place, spoken to him even fewer. Yet nothing but sweetness came to mind at the thought of him; all softness and pretty scars and kind smiles. You think maybe the word gentleman was made for him. Even Sirius seemed to be lovelier in Remus’ presence, which was saying a lot, because you thought your neighbour really was quite lovely already.

You’d never seen Remus so riled up before. Honestly, you didn’t think he was capable of it. There was a silly little feeling in your tummy, to know that he had gotten so worked up to protect you.

“Sweetheart,” his voice brings you back to the present. And he’s back to normal, back to the soft, calm man you so adored.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles bemusedly, though his brows are bent with concern. You realise he’s brought you to the kitchen, where there’s fewer people and more air to breathe. The feeling of his thumbs gently rubbing your wrists is almost too much to bear. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m –” you try not to shudder as the thought of the angry man comes back to you, “fine. I’m fine.”

Remus gives your hands a squeeze. “Okay. You’re okay now, yeah? I’m sorry about Cormac. He was a dick in high school too,” he sighs. “Once a dick, always a dick.”

You let out a giggle. “Really?”

He grins, a proper one. “Yeah, really. One time, James — you know James, right? The bespectacled one with the curly hair —” he continues when you nod, “— yeah, so James walked right up to Cormac and —“

“Hey,” Remus is interrupted by Sirius, breathless as he shoves past people, into the kitchen. His brows are pinched together as he pulls you into a half hug. “Hey, babe. Are you good? I heard what happened just now with McLaggen, the asshole.”

“I’m okay, really,” you squeak out as Sirius pulls you even closer. “Sirius —“

You feel your cheeks heating up when you hear Remus chuckling. Sirius lets you go from the hug now, but his grip on your shoulders is vice-like as he looks you over like a concerned mother hen. “Are you sure you’re okay? He didn’t touch you, did he?”

“Well, he did, but —“

“He touched you?” Sirius sounds close to appalled. Remus is snickering now, and you feel like digging yourself a hole and crawling into it. “The bastard! I’m gonna —“

“Sirius!” you hiss, cutting him off. “I’m all good, I swear. Remus got me out of it.”

Sirius flicks his gaze over to Remus. In a split second, you know what’s coming when you see the twinkle in his eyes.

“Sirius. Don’t you dare.”

He flashes you a quick grin before turning to his friend, wiggling his eyebrows. “So, loverboy here saved you, huh?”

Remus quirks an eyebrow at you questioningly. You turn to Sirius with a pleading look; you knew he knew all about your little crush. But of course, he wouldn’t stop there.

“Did he swoop you into his arms? Catch you as you fell?”

“No…“ you mumble shyly, shoulders up to your ears.

“Well,” Sirius smirks, “He can now!”

The only warning you get is a wink, before Sirius’ hand is on your shoulder and he gives you a push.

You let out a yelp as you tumble backwards, straight into Remus.

Embarrassment washes over you as his strong arms immediately come around your waist, swiftly pressing onto your stomach as he steadies you. “Woah, woah, easy there. Are you okay?”

You blink. “I… um… I…”

The feeling of his hands on you is distracting, too much to take. It’s like your legs have turned to jelly, tongue to rubber. Words turn to dust on the tip of it.

Maybe this is how you perish, you think. You’d die of shyness in Remus’ arms; perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go.

A loud gasp startles you out of your reverie. Both you and Remus turn to find Sirius staring at you with his hands on his cheeks, eyes dramatically wide and mouth agape.

“Oh. My. God,” he gushes, stepping towards you. “What do we have here?”

You shoot him a glare, hoping it conveys both your desperation and annoyance. Sirius seems, or rather pretends, to understand nothing.

“Would you look at that?” he continues with a grin, chucking his head upwards. You look up to feel your heart drop.

There’s a quiet snort from Remus at the sight. Green leaves, red ribbon adorning it. Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Sirius exclaims, as if it weren’t painfully obvious.

You cringe, immediately hanging your head to stare at your hands. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and hope the red on your cheeks isn’t as obvious as you think it is.

Sirius is annoyingly loud as he continues to yap, but your heartbeat is louder.

Remus clears his throat. You blink, whipping your head upwards to find him looking at you with an apologetic smile. He rubs the nape of his neck bashfully. “Is there anything I can say to make this less awkward?”

A soft huff of laughter escapes you despite yourself. “No, I… I don’t think so.”

He grins. You feel your resolve melting into a puddle. “Kiss me.”

Remus blinks, eyes widening for a split second before his lips quirk upwards. “What?”

“Kiss me,” you breathe, hoping you don’t sound as anxious as you feel. “I mean, not because I want you to or anything —“ you laugh nervously, “— but because it’s mistletoe, and — oh.”

Remus’ lips are on yours in a moment. The squeak you let out dissolves into his mouth, hand gently cupping the back of your head.

You feel his soft hands on your waist and his sweet lips on yours and you feel like you’re falling all over again.

This is what that muggle singer Sirius loved — Elvis Presley — must’ve been feeling, you think, when he wrote Can’t Help Falling in Love. He must’ve been kissing the epitome of love itself, because you seemed to be falling into Remus, melting into his touch. If you were a fool for rushing in, then so be it. You’d be anything to taste his lips again.

Remus lets go all too soon, though you’d probably feel the same way if he let go after a lifetime. He gives you that sweet, sweet smile again, and you can’t help but smile back.

“You know, we don’t always have to be under the mistletoe to kiss.”

“We don’t?”

“No,” Remus grins, “like right now.”

He tugs on your waist, stumbling until your back hits the wall. He kisses you again, and you’re suddenly very grateful for Sirius. You’d have to thank him for three things this Christmas — introducing you to Remus, inviting you to this party, and most importantly — for that song reference.

san’s christmas sleepover

[rabbidbunwy]

🔞Hawks x reader| Minors DNI| NSFW WARNING!!! 🔞

You handle Keigo as he's on breeding season [again] but with a twist,he's going to get you pregnant (,,¬﹏¬,,)

Contents: Hawks x Anon! reader-both adult-explicit content-crampie-moaning-breeding-consensual-smut-cumming-hard-getting pregnant-impregnation-l'ots of pet names by Keigo[sunshine,birdie etc.] cute-fluff-aftercare-teasing-cuddle-whines-teasing-lots n' lots of cuddles towards the end-cheesy-needy and cuddly Keigo

The reader doesn't talk a lot here,too busy about being breed (๑/////๑ " )

I'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

Please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

P.s: this is supposed to be the second writing of my breeding series? idk but the second of my writings with my FAVORITE bird man

i love my birdie so muchhhh ughhhh ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡)

!! (°□°)☝️ Again don't read if you found it unconfortable with the subject/context

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia @satorkive @ponderingmoonlight

Keigo other hand moved down to your hip, gripping it as he began to get rougher. “I’m gonna try so hard to breed you, my good little birdy” he repeated, letting out low whimpers and gasps as he spoke. “God, the thought of seeing you pregnant with my baby just…it drives me god damn insane, sunshine.”

His pace increased as you were flipped onto your stomach, and he let out another low moan. “I’m going to breed you so good, darling…” “You’re gonna take my baby so deep inside you, sunshine” he continued “I’m gonna give you so many little baby birdies, sunshine” he repeated. His breathing was coming out in short, labored gasps. “And I’m gonna make sure every one of them is a little copy of their daddy.”

“Wanna watch your belly grow nice and big, gonna fill you up so deep-” he grunted as he spoke, his pace getting faster and more desperate. “My good little birdy…I’m gonna fill you up so much-" he groaned loudly “You want to have my baby that badly, my good little birdy?” His thrusts began to get even quicker, his breath coming out in pants and gasps.

“You want the children of a birdie that bad?” “God, I can’t wait to see you all big and swollen with my baby…you’ll look so beautiful like that, sunshine. My little birdy…” he groaned, one of his hands gripping your hip harder. You cried out strangled gripping the bed "f..fuck mhnn K..keigo-"

With your back completely pressed against his chest, he could reach even deeper. His hands tightened on your waist as he thrusted up, a low groaned moan falling from his lips “Mnh…yeah, that’s it sunshine” he panted out between breaths. “Gotta make sure I breed you nice and good, now, huh?” “Gotta make sure my birdie baby gets planted in you” he added, his breaths coming out in pants. “Gotta make sure I get you all knocked up and pregnant, huh, my good birdie?” His pace began to get a little rougher, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he tried to go even deeper. “Gotta make sure you have my babies, darling.”

More moans

“Mmm…gotta make sure you’re a good pregnant birdie, huh?” His pace was getting more sloppy, his hands beginning to shake.

“You want that…you wanna be all heavy and swollen with my babies, darling?” He grunted out, struggling to get the words out between breaths and moans. “Want me to fill you up so deep, sunshine?”

You gripped Keigo shoulders as you moaned loudly "ah-ah Keigo-"

Keigo grunted as you gripped his shoulders, the feeling of your hands giving a sort of encouragement to him. “Yeah…yeah, that’s it, sunshine…just like that..” “Just like that, darling…God, you’re so good for me, huh?” He mumbled out, his pace getting rougher and more sloppy. “Such a good birdie for me, sunshine..letting me breed you like this…”

“You want me to give you my babies deep and proper, huh, birdie?” He asked between breaths, his pace picking up just the slightest. “My beautiful sunshine birdie going to let me knock you up nice and good?” You moaned in response feeling closer and closer "nghnn Keigo…I'm.. "

“Yeah…yesss…come for me, birdie” he panted out “Come on, sunshine, let me fill you up nice and good for me” he panted out, his breathing coming out in heavy gasps at this point. “Come for me, darling…please-” You moaned at every word he spatted out feeling closer and closer as you mewed and moaned

“Yeah…mmm…that’s it…come for me, sunshine…let me knock you up so good-”

He gave another low, drawn-out whine, his pace continuing to pick up as he got more desperate. “Come on…come on-”

“Come on, birdie, be a good birdie and come for me…need you to, birdie..” he panted out, getting more impatient. “Need to fill you up…”

“That’s it….mmm..good girl, birdie…such a good birdie…” he groaned, the feeling of you tipping over more than enough to drive him over the edge, too. “Just like that…yeah…just like that-” He let out another low whine at the feeling of you gripping his shoulder, his rhythm picking up and getting rougher, his gasps more labored. “Oh..oh, yes…yes..yesyes…oh my god-”

“Oh my god…oh my god, I’m so close….oh god, birdie…oh my birdie….yesyesyesyes-” he repeated, his voice getting higher and more desperate as he got closer.

“Almost….almost…oh my god, birdie….yesyesyesyesyesyes…oh my birdie, sunshine-” he was almost babbling by then, his pace getting sloppier and more rough as he reached the very edge. “Oh..oh, birdie, birdie…” he whined again, his hands gripping your hips so hard he might’ve been bruising you. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna-”

“Gonna give you my baby….yes….yes…YESYESYES…..oh my god…oh my birdie….yesyes…yes…YES YES-” He gave another whine, his back arching towards you, his whole body going tense as he finally, finally came. You cried out,your legs squeezed his waist as you camed too

When he finally came, he let out a long, high, drawn-out groan, keeping his hips pressed against you, his body giving a sharp twitch. He collapsed on top of you, a tired sigh falling from his lips. “Oh..oh, birdie…my good birdie….”

He stayed like that for a moment, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his labored breathing falling on your ear as he came down from his high. “My birdie” he repeated, his voice a little raspy. “My good little birdie…my birdie bird…”

"you're too needy" you pouted blushing “Oh, and you weren’t being needy?” He asked in response, lifting his head to look at you. “You wanted me to knock you up just as badly as I wanted to do it, birdie.”

“You’re not innocent in this, sunshine. You wanted my babies just as badly as I wanted to give them to you.” He spoke playfully, lifting a hand to brush against your cheek.

"is it bad?" you asked feeling guilty “Is it bad you want my babies?” He asked, a bit surprised at the question. “No, of course it’s not, birdie. I want nothing more than to give you my babies”

“You know that, right?” he asked again, his face softening as he saw the guilt in your eyes. “You’re allowed to want my babies, birdie. We both want it, after all, yeah?”

You nodded snuggling against his chest "will they have your quirk?"

“That would be up to chance” he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him. “Though I wouldn’t mind them being little birdie baby feathers like daddy.”

“They’ll be perfect, regardless” he said quietly. “Just like their mommy.” He added on, turning his face to kiss your forehead.

“They’ll have your eyes and your smile, I imagine.” He spoke, resting his chin on the top of your head, and sighing. “They’ll just be the cutest little birdie babies.”

You cooed snuggling against his chest,like a baby "i love you Key" you mumbled “I love you, too, birdie” he said, his hand coming up to brush against your hair, pushing his fingers through the strands.

He was silent for a moment, just focusing on the small gesture, before he spoke again. “What do you say we go get some sleep, huh?” He started to lean back, pulling you with him so he was lying flat against the bed, but still holding you to his chest. “We could both use a nap, I think” he said, still fiddling with your hair a bit, the motion seeming to keep his hands busy.

Then you caressed his wing "it's so soft" you mumbled When you caressed his wing, he gave a small shiver, a small, pleased sound falling from his lips. “Careful, birdie. You know how sensitive my wings are” he said, his voice going a bit playful.

“You keep touching my wings and I might get turned on again" he said, the words tumbling out a bit faster than he would have liked. “And I don’t think I have it in me for a second round right now.”

"the other time you breed me for five times" you pouted looking at him “Yeah, I was a lot more energized that time” he said, wrapping one of his wings around your body, pulling you closer. “I’ve definitely lost a bit of steam this time around.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, shifting around a bit as he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I think you’ve definitely managed to wear me out, sunshine. I’m beat.”

“I’m exhausted, birdie” he mumbled, his words starting to slur a bit. “I don’t think I have the energy to go another round…I’m going to need a nap a good, 12-hour nap, now.”

He let his head rest on the pillow, holding you closer against him. “I’ll need one helluva good sleep before I can take you again, birdie” he said, his eyes closing as the exhaustion started to set in.

"finee" you pouted snuggling into his chest making the little spoon "wing" you asked

At the feeling of you snuggling against his chest, Keigo let out a small huff as he adjusted a bit. When he heard you hint for his wing, he immediately let the large appendage wrap around you, the feathers brushing against your back.

He nuzzled his face against the top of your head when his wing was wrapped around you, giving a bit of a hum. “Comfortable, birdie?”

He held you a bit tighter, wrapping the wing around you even more, almost like he was cocooning you in his wings. “You’ll sleep well like this, yeah?” You nodded cooing "night night" “Mmm…good night, sunshine” he mumbled back, burying his face into your hair again. “Rest well, pretty birdie.”

He let out a long, satisfied, tired sigh, nuzzling his face against your head again. “I love you, birdie. And we’re going to have the best birdie babies, I just know it.”

✧˖°🌷📎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✧˖°🌷📎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✧˖°🌷📎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✧˖°🌷📎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

me meanwhile writing this:

[joemama-2]

nanami kento has always been a patient man. he’s respectful and doesn’t talk to unless spoken to. he doesn’t like most people, might even hate some. but you’re not the type of person he would exactly hate, unlike a certain someone. he thinks you’re kind, polite, you always bow respectfully to your seniors, you diligently complete every task that’s asked of you. there’s also one more thing about you….he just cant put his finger on it. maybe you’re just tolerable, yeah that’s it.

you’re not a sorcerer, at least not a very good one. it’s why you’ve opted to be an auxiliary manager like ijichi and akari. “as long as i get to help the sorcerers in battle, i’m fine with whatever position i’ve been assigned.” you would say with a big and warm smile, innocently, naively. he thinks you’re too good for such a rotten society, something like that will get people killed. and he doesn’t want you on that list.

when he first met you back in high school, he didn’t think much of you. you weren’t a special grade, you didn’t have any awesome technique, you were just simply there. maybe you have connections, he thought. because there’s no way someone like you was admitted into tokyo jujutsu high. to this day, he doesn’t know how you did it. maybe you have some super cool talent that you didn’t like showing, maybe you just won over everyone’s hearts and they felt pity for you, he’ll never be able to find out. that’s one of his many regrets.

his other regrets are letting himself grow attached for no reason. no matter what, his eyes had a mind of his own, searching and scanning any room or environment for your figure. he chalks it up to protectiveness, you weren’t strong like he was and he didn’t want to see another comrade die. because thats all you were, a comrade. a comrade. a comrade. he chants this mantra into his mind every morning.

nanami didn’t know how it happened, but one thing led to another and he was always alone with you. comfortable silence was what he loved the most. you two could sit together for hours in a flower field you came across one day, just watching the sky and clouds form random shapes. you liked when they made hearts and little animals. although he always argued that they’re just clouds.

but, clouds almost reminded him of you. free, soft, floating around from place to place, and residing high in the sky. because he knew, no matter what, you were one of the few people who would go to heaven in this sick world, sick society. you belonged in heaven, you looked like an angel, acted like a goddess.

“let’s go to malaysia together.” you told him randomly one day, seeing an ad pop up about a beautiful vacation spot. kuantan. he didn’t take you too seriously. malaysia? out of all places? he didn’t see the hype.

all these thoughts flood his brain when he sees your body, looking lifeless and bloody, next to ijichi. you two have huge stab wounds in your mid-section. however, you have a bit more than your co-part, clear signs of your fight. even when you know you don’t have the upper hand, you won’t hesitate to fight back.

it’s hard as he carries you two, having to make sure ijichi doesn’t fall off his back while simultaneously holding you close to his chest. his heart twists and turns, stomach churning the entirety of the slow walk he does to bring you two back to ieiri. his mind is running rampant, constantly looking down at you. you can’t be dead, he thinks. neither of you two are dead, he can’t see more comrades die.

it’s almost weird to him how his throat tightens, tears stinging at his eyes. you don’t move, head lolling to the side as barely a sign of a breath is escaping your lips. your skin is pale and bruising. he hates it, hates how you look, hates how hurt you are, hates how he wasn’t there to stop it and protect you.

he sets you down first once he reaches shoko, handing the passed out ijichi to her. finally, he kneels down, taking in your appearance. nanami rarely gets mad, at least not seriously. but this time, he’s absolutely furious. silently seething as he breathing gets heavy. his fists clench by his side, nails drawing blood into the skin.

he gets up, no being able to stand how you look. but, he forgets you’re a fighter, forgets that no matter what, you look out for the sorcerers. out for him.

“kento….” you straggle out, hand weakly clutching onto his. you can barely keep your eyelids open. you mutter out the next few words. “…man….blonde……ponytail……s-sword….”

ah, he thinks. that’s his target.

he gulps, simply nodding. but your hand stays clutched onto his. using all your strength, you open your eyes wider, and he hates the tears that form in them. “….come back to me please…..”

he feels like crying with you. but he can’t, not now at least. he kneels down again, bringing the back of your hand up to his lips to press feather light kisses to each knuckle. his other hand gently uses his thumb to wipe your tears, treating you with utmost care. “kuantan,” he murmurs. “when this is all over, i’ll take you.”

you weakly chuckle, more tears falling at this point. “..p-promise..?”

he hesitates, but you notice. “promise.“ he says back, leaning down to give your forehead a kiss, sealing the promise. he places your hand back to your stomach before getting up to leave, not before sparing you one last glance.

and as you watch him leave, you don’t even know that it’s the last time you’ll ever see him, last time he’ll ever see you. because you trust his word, trusted that he’d come back to you.

nanami leaves with a heavy heart, staring death in the face and yet all he can think about is you. there’s many regrets he has.

he broke your guys’ promise, he hopes you won’t stay mad at him.

he won’t be able to take you to kuantan.

he won’t be able to see you, hold you, talk to you.

and finally, he wasn’t able to confess that he loved the simplicity. that he loved you.

he’ll see you again, in heaven and in another life. until then, he’ll watch over you. because nanami kento has always been a patient man.

[hookedonhuge]

Drink Your Milk (Part 2)

(Part 1)

Two weeks later.

“I’m home!” Your housemate Riley beams with his signature smile that is accentuated by his thick beard. He bounces his enormous, hairy pecs a few times for you as he enters. “That was quite a workout!” Riley says, glistening with sweat from carrying twenty bottles of milk between the reinforced bags in each of his hands. “Here I am sweating like a hog, and I can only just carry half the amount you do.” 

Riley, thanks to you, has quickly become nothing short of the epitome of masculinity. Raw muscle explodes out of every part of his body. He has the manliest beard and hairiest chest most people will ever see in their lives. Not to mention his unforgettable and potent musk that reeks of testosterone. He looks like how you did just one week ago. You are like his twin, just bigger, hairier and stinkier.

Riley trudges through the swamp of empty bottles, which are almost up to his knees. To think you two cleaned out the apartment only two days ago. Once he reaches you he gives you a passionate kiss on the lips. “You looked so hot in that commercial yesterday.” Riley whispers in your ear. “I can’t believe they made you shave your beard though.” Luckily for you, your hair grows so fast that you already have a thick stubble. “Also, I know it must have been hard having that milk poured down onto your chest. I know how much you hate wasting milk.”

“It was tough wasting that milk, I just wish you were there so you could have licked it off me. The good thing is I managed to negotiate and get us a lifetime supply of milk because of it. They don’t know the mistake they’ve made.” You smirk as you play with Riley’s sensitive nipples. “By the way, I got you a gig with them next week for another ad.” You twist his nipples a bit harder so that Riley’s excited reaction becomes a moan. “At this rate we will be able to ditch this apartment and buy our own place. Somewhere that can fit us better”

“I won’t miss having to take the elevator separately from you,” Riley smiles, temporarily daydreaming about a long future with you. “And we better hurry up as the building manager is already not happy that you take the elevator even by yourself.” 

“It’s discrimination. I can’t help that I’m a growing boy.”

“Safety is what he told me,” Riley teases. “Anyway, I’ve never known you to wait this long to drink some milk. So let’s get into it. I think I’m ready for us to do ten each.”

“All at once? I’m confident I can do it but are you sure about yourself?” Riley nods. “Well we need you to catch up to my size so it sounds like a plan.”

GUUUUULP! GUUUUULP! Nowadays, you manage to down a whole gallon in just two big gulps. Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp. You find it cute that Riley tries to match your pace, but it just makes him gulp even more. You consider slowing down to Riley’s pace but you also know how much he loves it when you smash through gallons in just seconds. 

As Riley finishes his second bottle you finish your fifth. You both take a break, both of you panting in unison. Your belly now extends out in front of your massive pecs and it is extremely tight. “You are doing so well,” you say to Riley, patting his bloated belly.

Both of you resume. You have to slow down your pace now. The most you have done in one sitting is actually nine, and you are getting close. As you finish your ninth both with difficulty, Riley also matches his personal best as he finishes up with his sixth.

“You are catching up,” you say between heavy pants. Riley wants to respond but is too breathless. “I am so proud of you for getting this far, I know you can keep going.” 

You both explore uncharted territory together. You go slowly and match Riley’s pace. Each gulp makes you feel like you are about to burst. It hurts, but stretching yourself out just that little more turns you on so much. You know that Riley is experiencing the exact same thing. You finish together, as you stare deeply into each other’s eyes.

The pressure in your stomach is unbearable. You want to burp so bad but you have to save it for once Riley is done. Riley looks defeated but you know that he can push through. “I’ll help you out Riley,” you say soothingly, rubbing his gigantic belly. God, he is so hot like this. Blown up like a balloon, milk sloshing around his big belly and massive pecs. He already looks unrecognisable from ten minutes ago, just imagine the muscle he’ll have once he has let out all the gas.

You take Riley’s eighth gallon and pour it into his mouth for him as you stare deeply into his eyes. “Just imagine how gassy we will be after this.” Seven and a quarter. “We will gas out this entire apartment building. “Seven and a half. “And after this session we will keep going for more.” Seven and three quarters. “We will be doing eleven, twelve each.” Eight done. “Twenty before we even know it.” Eight and a quarter. “Imagine how big we will be then.” Eight and a half. “Our muscles will be twice the size.” Eight and three quarters. “We will be able to lift trucks.” Nine done. “And imagine how hairy and smelly we will be.” Nine and a quarter. “Burps that the whole city will smell.” Nine and a half. “We will never stop growing together.” Nine and a quarter. “We will grow until we are as wide as we are tall. Then we will keep growing past that. We will both finish gallons in one glug. We will drink hundreds in one sitting, what will stop us? To get there you just need to finish off this one. You have smashed your record already and you are about to match mine. I know you can do it” Ten done.

He is a beast just like you. That’s why you love him. You make Riley stand up with you so that you can assess just how huge he is. Just like you his gut has over tripled in size and his pecs have ballooned out as well. “Was someone a little thirsty? You poke his belly teasingly. “You know one gallon of milk a day is a lot for an ordinary person. Let alone ten one after the other. Didn’t you already have five gallons this morning?”

“You had four gallons before I even woke up,” Riley teases back as he grabs your belly with both hands and shakes it. “Then another eight after that. I’m not nearly as gluttonous as you are, but don’t worry I will be soon.” Riley saying that makes you rock hard.

You are really feeling the cramps now and can only imagine that Riley is feeling worse, so it’s time to let it rip. Before you do Riley leans in, able to catch his breath enough to speak. “By the way, all those dreams you spoke about before. It’s unrealistic. We’ll drink more than just hundreds, and we’ll be bigger than is humanly possible and then we will grow bigger than that.” You somehow get even harder. You don’t have anything left to say. Well there is one thing that you want to say, and you just have to say it with Riley…

BRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH-UUUUUUUURRRRRRRR-OOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRP!!!

[deliciousangelfestival]

He's The Sweetest

Summary: After discovering his secret and coming to terms with it, she faces an even bigger challenge—dealing with her family.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Author Note : This is a second part of He's The Killer

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky sat in a dimly lit office, the tension thick as he faced his boss, Jake, who sat behind the desk. The room felt cold, sterile, just like the life he’d been living for years. Jake leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable as Bucky’s voice cut through the silence

“Accept my resignation,” Bucky said firmly.

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly not pleased. “It’s difficult to let you go. I’m serious.”

As if on cue, Bucky’s phone buzzed. He glanced down, his hardened expression softening ever so slightly as he read the message.

You: “Can Alpine stay at my place today? I have another panda toy for her.”

Bucky stared at the screen for a moment, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. He quickly replied, his thumb hovering awkwardly over the heart emoji before hitting send.

Bucky: “Of course. 💕”

He chuckled to himself—never in his life had he thought he’d use that emoji. But this was the first time you had offered to bring Alpine, his beloved cat, to your place. Why? A small knot of concern twisted in his chest.

His lighthearted moment shattered as he tapped into his surveillance feed from the secret lair in his apartment. His eyes widened. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

On the screen, he saw you standing in front of his hidden room, eyes wide with shock. His heart dropped. This was why he needed his retirement approved—quickly.

Taking a deep breath, his mind racing. His entire life had been a bleak mix of exhaustion, bitterness, and emptiness. He’d been a hitman for so long, it had swallowed him whole. The thrill, the violence—it used to be all he knew.

But that had started to change the day he found that baby panda.

It was during one of his missions—his target had been involved in the black market and owned a panda as a pet. Bucky remembered seeing the fluffy little creature, terrified and out of place, and for the first time in a long time, something had stirred in him.

He’d cradled the baby panda in his arms, its softness grounding him in a way nothing else had. He couldn’t leave it behind. After eliminating the target, he made sure the panda was sent to a sanctuary where it could be safe. That same panda had grown and was eventually sent to the zoo where it could be with others of its kind.

Since then, pandas had become more than just animals to him. They represented innocence, something he hadn’t felt in years. It had started with that baby panda and, unexpectedly, it had continued with you.

Meeting you had been a complete surprise. You were the first stranger who had ever willingly helped him. That day at the zoo, when you’d offered him your umbrella in the pouring rain—it wasn’t just an act of kindness, it was something more. You worked as a nurse, saving lives, the complete opposite of what he did. That contrast between your worlds fascinated him.

And now, you’d found his secret.

Jake’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You’re really not changing your mind, huh?” Jake said, leaning forward, his hands resting on the desk.

He started typing, his fingers flying across the keyboard. After a few moments, he pointed at the screen. “Here. Done. Everything’s erased.”

Bucky glanced at the screen, relief flooding him. "I’ll return the weapons," he added.

Jake shook his head with a dry laugh. “Keep 'em.”

“No,” Bucky replied, shaking his head, especially after the look of shock he’d seen on your face. “I’m done.”

Jake studied him for a long moment, leaning back in his chair again, arms crossed. “You’ve changed, man.”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “I’ve decided to change.”

With a low whistle, Jake stood and offered his hand. “Well, congrats. You’ve graduated from an ice block into a normal human being.”

Bucky couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he shook Jake’s hand.

Jake handed him a letter. “Here. With this, you can work as a contractor anywhere you want. Consider it a gift.”

Bucky took the letter, folding it neatly. “Thanks, Jake.”

With a final nod, Bucky turned to leave, his hand on the door. “Goodbye.”

“See you around, Barnes,” Jake called after him, his tone softer now.

Bucky walked out of the office, his mind already on you, on what you’d seen—and on how he was going to explain his life, his past, and everything he wanted to leave behind for you.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bucky made his way to your place, noticing how quiet the street was as he walked up to your building. When he reached your door, it seemed like no one was home. He frowned, but just as he was about to knock, your neighbor, the sweet elderly woman from down the hall, spotted him.

“Ah, James! How are you, dear?” she called out warmly, shuffling over with a small box in her hands. “Could you give this to your girlfriend? I made her a lemon cake. I heard she’s home.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. ‘So, you’re home?’ he thought, glancing back at your door. “Oh, thanks, Gladys,” he replied, accepting the box. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”

The woman smiled, patting his arm. “Thanks to her for helping with my hip pain. She's a blessing.”

He nodded, offering her a kind smile. “Glad to help. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Turning back to your door, Bucky knocked softly, his heart pounding. “Y/N? Gladys made you a cake.”

There was silence for a moment before he heard soft footsteps approaching the door. It cracked open just slightly, and through the small gap, he could see you, holding Alpine in your arms. Your face was hesitant, guarded.

Bucky immediately sensed your fear. He felt a knot tighten in his chest, knowing he was the reason for it.

“Hi,” he said softly, his voice low, trying to reassure you.

You didn’t reply right away, just staring at him with uncertainty.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asked gently, his hand still holding the box of cake. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

You hesitated for a moment longer, but then, with a small nod, you opened the door wider, stepping back to let him inside. You didn’t speak, still standing a few feet away from him, clutching Alpine to your chest as if she were a shield.

Bucky took a deep breath, setting the cake down on the counter. He turned to face you, his eyes soft but serious. “I know what you found,” he began. “The weapons, the surveillance… I need to explain.”

You stayed quiet, watching him closely, your grip on Alpine tightening.

“I used to be a hitman,” Bucky admitted, his voice steady. “For years, that’s what I did. I was… good at it. But it made my life empty, and I became someone I didn’t even recognize anymore.”

"Two years ago, I got hurt badly. I almost died." He paused, reflecting on the memory. "It was a miracle. Because a nurse didn't give up on saving me."

Your eyes widened slightly at the confirmation, but you didn’t move, just listening.

“After that, I didn’t want that life anymore. Even before I met you, I’d already started planning to retire,” Bucky continued, taking a step closer to you. “Meeting you… it just made me want to hurry up and leave it all behind. You were the first person who made me think I could actually be someone else.”

You shifted slightly, lowering your gaze to the floor for a moment, processing everything he was telling you.

“I get if you don’t want anything to do with me after this,” Bucky said quietly. “But I’m not that man anymore. I don’t want to be.”

There was a long pause before you finally spoke. “So… you’re retired now?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I’ve left that life behind for good. Everything’s been erased.”

You looked up at him, still holding Alpine close, but something in your expression softened. “That means… you could protect me, right?”

Bucky blinked, surprised by your question. “Protect you?”

You bit your lip, looking a bit sheepish. “I mean… it’s not like I need someone to, but… it’s kinda reassuring knowing you could, if anything ever happened.”

A small, relieved smile tugged at the corners of Bucky’s lips. He took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “I’d never let anything happen to you,” he promised.

You finally smiled back, the tension in the room starting to dissolve. “I believe you.”

There was a moment of silence, but this time it wasn’t awkward or heavy. It was peaceful. You placed Alpine gently down on the couch and walked toward Bucky, resting your hand on his chest. “I guess that’s just another part of you I’ll have to get used to.”

Bucky exhaled, the weight of the conversation lifting off his shoulders. “Thank you… for understanding.”

You smiled, a bit shyly this time, and then you led him to the bedroom. The night was quiet, and as the two of you settled into bed, you rested your head on his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you. It felt safe, comforting, like you were finally where you both belonged.

Alpine curled up at the foot of the bed, and Bucky pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his heart full in a way it hadn’t been for a long, long time.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, warming the room. You stirred slightly, still wrapped in Bucky’s arms, feeling a rare moment of peace. That is, until you heard the front door creak open, followed by your mother’s voice echoing from the kitchen.

“Y/N, honey! I brought some food for your fridge!”

Your heart dropped, and you shot up in bed, wide-eyed. 'Oh no. Mom's here. I'm not ready for this!' You frantically glanced around the room, then froze when you heard another voice—a second, more cheerful one.

“And we’re borrowing your bathroom!” your aunt chimed in from the hallway.

Your eyes widened even further. 'Damn it, Aunt Margaret too?' You turned to Bucky, who was still blissfully asleep beside you. Leaning over him, you shook his shoulder with urgency. “Wake up!”

Bucky blinked, still half-asleep, his brows furrowing as he mumbled, “Huh? What’s going on?”

Panic surged through you. You glanced toward the door and back at him. Without another word, you grabbed the blanket, quickly wrapping it around him as you began pushing him toward your wardrobe. “Just get in here!”

Still groggy, Bucky allowed himself to be shoved toward the wardrobe. “Are we under attack?” he muttered, half-dazed.

“Oh, it’s way worse,” you whispered harshly, yanking open the wardrobe door.

Bucky immediately tensed, his training kicking in. “Who?” His voice was low and serious now.

You glanced nervously toward the hallway. “My aunts.”

Bucky blinked, confused. “Your—”

Before he could say more, you stuffed him into the wardrobe, quickly closing the door. You ran a hand through your hair in frustration, throwing on a hoodie and rushing out of the bedroom.

In the kitchen, your mom, Sophie, was already busy rearranging food in your fridge, humming to herself as she worked. She turned when she heard your footsteps. “Oh, hi, sweetie. Hope you don’t mind me coming over. I brought some meals for the week.”

Behind her, Aunt Margaret stood with a small smile. “We didn’t want to bother you, but we need to use your bathroom real quick before heading to the spa. Hope that’s okay.”

You forced a smile, trying to stay calm. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Smile more, don’t be rude,” your mother reminded you, placing another container in the fridge.

“Mom, I just woke up,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes.

Suddenly, a sharp gasp came from behind you. “Oh my goodness, who’s this?” Aunt Margaret exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

Your stomach dropped again as you turned and ran back toward the bedroom. You barely made it through the door before you saw Margaret standing by the wardrobe. She had, of course, snooped her way in, and now she was staring wide-eyed at Bucky, who was still awkwardly wrapped in the blanket. His muscular arms were exposed, and he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hello,” Bucky said, his voice deep but sheepish, as he pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

Your mom and Aunt Margaret were utterly speechless, their mouths hanging open as they took in the sight of him. Sophie blinked several times, trying to process what she was seeing. “Who… is this?” she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, feeling your face flush. “Uh… this is my boyfriend.”

Both your mom and Aunt Margaret gasped in unison. “Boyfriend?” they exclaimed, their eyes lighting up with disbelief and excitement.

“Oh my goodness!” your mom clapped her hands together. “You didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend!”

Margaret, still grinning, rushed toward Bucky, looking at him like he was the most exciting thing she’d seen in years. “We’re so happy for you, Y/N! And such a handsome one, too.”

Bucky, clearly out of his element, nodded politely. “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a small, awkward smile.

Your mom, still beaming, clasped her hands together. “You both have to come to dinner on Sunday. The whole family will be there. We’d love to get to know him better.”

Bucky straightened up, still holding the blanket around him. “Of course, ma’am. I’d be happy to.”

After what felt like an eternity of pleasantries, your mom and Aunt Margaret finally left, their excitement palpable as they discussed plans for the evening family dinner. You closed the door behind them, letting out a long, exasperated breath.

Bucky emerged from the bedroom, running a hand through his hair. “So… dinner?”

You turned to him, shaking your head. “Prepare yourself, Bucky. It’s going to be dreadful.”

He gave you a puzzled look. “You don’t like family dinners?”

You sighed, sitting down on the couch. “It’s not that. It’s just… a lot.”

Bucky sat beside you, looking thoughtful. “I’ve never really done the whole family dinner thing,” he admitted quietly.

You glanced at him, surprised. “Never?”

He shook his head. “Nope. This is new territory for me.”

A small smile crept onto your face. “Well, get ready. My family doesn’t hold back.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand resting on yours. “Guess we’ll face it together then.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling a bit more at ease. “Yeah. Together.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

It was a quiet Sunday evening when you and Bucky arrived at your family’s house for dinner. As soon as you stepped inside, all eyes turned toward Bucky. It was like he was some rare, exotic artifact on display. Every relative, from your cousins to your elderly aunts, stared at him with wide eyes and hushed whispers, as if they couldn’t believe you had brought someone with you, let alone someone like him.

Bucky, dressed neatly but clearly out of his comfort zone, politely nodded and shook hands as he was introduced to everyone. He kept his posture composed, but you could tell he was uneasy by the way he kept glancing at you, searching for some sort of reassurance.

At the dinner table, the seating was predictably divided—men on one side, women on the other. You sat with your mother, aunts, and cousins, while Bucky sat with the men, looking slightly out of place as they tried to make small talk. You caught his eye across the table, and he gave you a small smile, as if to say, I’ve got this.

But then, it happened. One of your nosier aunts, Aunt Margaret, leaned over to you with a curious glint in her eyes. “So, what does your boyfriend do for work?”

You took a breath, bracing yourself. “He’s a contractor,” you replied casually, hoping that would suffice.

Aunt Margaret wasn’t done. She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Does he have a home?”

“Yes,” you said, your tone firm. “He has his own place.”

“Well, that’s good,” Aunt Margaret said with a sniff. “So much better than your father. He had a medical degree, but what good did it ever do him? Useless.”

You felt a sharp pang in your chest. Your father had always done what he could. He might not have used his degree, but he had made sure you had a roof over your head, food on the table, and your school tuition paid. When your mother needed surgery, he borrowed money to make it happen, and he paid it all back. In your eyes, he had been a good father, despite his flaws. But finding out about his infidelity at his funeral—that had shattered you.

Before you could respond, Aunt Margaret continued, oblivious to the hurt in your eyes. “Well, at least your future is secure now. You could just set the wedding date. The family has already met him, after all.”

You clenched your fists under the table. “Why is everyone so obsessed with me getting married? Are any of you planning to pay for it?”

Aunt Margaret looked taken aback. “It’s just—well, why wait? Especially at your age.”

You felt your temper rising. “If you’re not donating or paying for my wedding, you have no right to give me orders.”

Aunt Margaret gasped, her hand flying to her chest. She stood abruptly and left the table in a huff.

Your mother, always the peacemaker, leaned toward you. “Don’t be mad, sweetie. They only want the best for you.”

You let out a dry laugh. “The best for me? Mom, I’ve seen enough of the marriages in this family to be scared out of my mind. Maybe they just want to see if I’ll have a better marriage than they did.”

Your mom sighed softly. “You don’t know how it will be until you go through it.”

“Mom, please,” you said, shaking your head. “I know you want the best for me. But the one who will actually live the marriage is me, not them.”

Your voice softened as you continued, “I do want to get married. I want to be with the man I love, to stay by his side for the rest of my life. But I need to be sure it’s what I want, on my terms.”

Your aunt, having recovered from her earlier offense, decided to pipe up again. “Well, you’re not getting any younger. Why waste time?”

That was it. You snapped. “Almost all of you have been in terrible marriages! Domestic violence, cheating husbands—and him!”

You pointed across the table at your uncle, whose face turned a shade of red. “You’re the worst of all. You cheated on your wife while she was sick, stressed her so much it led to her getting breast cancer! While she was going through chemo, all she ever wanted was for you to apologize, and you couldn’t even do that. No wonder your kids hate you.”

The table went dead silent. Your uncle glared at you, but he couldn’t deny what you had said. The truth hung in the air like a dark cloud.

“You’re rude!” one of the other aunts muttered under her breath.

You let out a humorless laugh, throwing your hands up. “I’m the bad guy? Fine. It’s not a family gathering if there’s no drama, right?”

Your voice dropped, filled with contempt. “Look, even though we’re family, there are still boundaries. And you’ve crossed them.”

You could feel the tension in the room rise, but you weren’t done. Glancing at Bucky, who had been watching in silence, you reached for his hand, gripping it firmly. “Oh, and if anyone here thinks they can push my mom around, remember one thing.”

The entire table leaned in as you gave them a deadly serious look. “My boyfriend is a hitman.”

Everyone gasped, eyes widening as they looked between you and Bucky. Bucky himself seemed surprised, his eyes blinking as if he couldn’t believe what you had just said. He didn’t deny it, though, which only added to the shock.

You continued, undeterred. “I’ve seen his weapon collection. So if any of you think about messing with us—don’t.”

Your aunts and uncles exchanged nervous glances, clearly shaken. One by one, they started to gather their things, mumbling hurried excuses as they filed out of the house. Only your cousins lingered behind, giving you discreet thumbs up as they left, clearly impressed by your boldness.

As the last of them disappeared, you turned to Bucky, letting out a long breath. “Well, that went well.”

Bucky gave you an amused smile. “Guess I don’t have to return my weapons after all.”

You laughed, feeling lighter now that the tension had lifted. “Guess not. But I think we’ve officially scared them off for good.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You were amazing back there.”

You leaned into him, feeling a sense of victory. “Yeah, I was.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As the dust settled from the family dinner, only three of you remained in the house: you, Bucky, and your mother. You felt the weight of the awkward silence pressing down, and when it was finally time to leave, you slipped into the car first, not ready to face your mom. You knew she would defend her sisters and brother, no matter what.

Through the window, you caught a glimpse of Sophie, your cousin, glancing your way. Her expression was a mix of concern and curiosity as she exchanged whispers with your mother. Sophie was aware of your feelings, but she had brushed them off, just as she always did. You had confided in her about your trauma, about how her mother's words had cut deep, yet she had chosen to ignore it. In that moment, you realized what you were holding in was like a ticking bomb, waiting for the right moment to explode.

Bucky noticed Sophie’s gaze and turned to her, curiosity etched on his face. “So, was it true what she said? Are you really a hitman?”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “I used to be.”

Sophie was taken aback, her eyes widening slightly. “Well, I guess she likes strong men,” she said, forcing a nervous laugh that felt strained in the tense atmosphere.

“Ma'am, may I have your permission to marry your daughter?” Bucky asked, his tone respectful yet playful.

Sophie raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and delight crossing her face. “I won’t ask her now; I’ll wait until she’s calmed down. But I do need your consent.”

“Of course,” Sophie said with a genuine smile, her eyes softening. “I give you my blessing.”

As you drove back home, the tension in the car was palpable. You sighed heavily, breaking the silence. “Urgh. I’m so embarrassed.”

Bucky glanced at you, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you show so many emotions.”

“No…,” you protested, feeling your cheeks flush with heat.

“I’m not kidding. Instead, I’m amazed,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Really?” you asked, a flicker of surprise igniting in your voice.

“Yes. In my former job, I used weapons to take out my targets. But you…” Bucky glanced at you with admiration. “You wield words like weapons. It’s not just a triple kill; I saw them lose it.”

His gaze held you captive, and you felt the truth of his words resonate deep within you. He would never put you on the edge; the ending was obvious: you would win the argument. “If you became a lawyer, you’d have a 100% success rate,” he added, grinning.

You looked down at your hands in your lap, feeling a warmth spread through you. “You know, the reason I was brave back there is that you were by my side.”

Bucky’s expression softened, and he reached out, holding your hand gently. “If you want me to,” he said, his voice low and steady, “I can make them disappear. Especially your uncle. Just say the word.”

His grip was reassuring, and for the first time since the dinner, you felt a flicker of safety amidst the chaos.

Bucky glanced over at you, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "By the way, I’ve got an extra ticket to see the pandas. Want to go?"

Your face lit up immediately. "Of course!" you replied, barely able to contain your excitement, already picturing the fluffy pandas in your mind.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Extras:

In the stark, sterile environment of the emergency room two years ago, chaos reigned as doctors and nurses hustled to save a critical patient. The man lay on the gurney, his body battered and pale, a deep stab wound in his abdomen oozing crimson, soaking the sheets beneath him. His eyes were vacant, and the beeping monitors signaled a disheartening rhythm that reflected his fading pulse.

“Time of death,” the attending physician announced grimly, his voice heavy with the weight of finality.

“Y/N, stop it. He’s gone,” one nurse urged, her expression a mix of concern and resignation. She stepped back, crossing her arms tightly as if trying to shield herself from the painful reality.

“No. Let’s give it one more try,” you insisted, your heart racing with adrenaline and determination. You positioned yourself beside the patient, refusing to back down in the face of despair.

With steely resolve, you pressed your hands against his chest, starting compressions with calculated urgency. “Come on, just one more time,” you urged, your voice steady yet filled with hope, as if willing him to respond.

The seconds felt like an eternity, but suddenly, the monitor emitted a series of frantic beeps, and you felt a faint pulse beneath your fingers. “I’ve got it! I’ve got a pulse!” you shouted, your heart soaring with renewed hope.

A wave of relief washed over the room as the team rallied around you, working swiftly to stabilize him. You squeezed the patient’s hand, your grip firm and reassuring. “I’m glad you didn’t give up,” you murmured softly, your eyes locking onto his as a connection formed in that fleeting moment.

As the medical team continued their efforts, you noticed the scars etched into his skin—marks of battles fought and survived. Leaning closer, you brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, your heart swelling with empathy. “You’ve been through a lot. Get some rest,” you whispered gently, a comforting smile breaking through your worry as you remained by his side, willing him to pull through.

The room, once filled with despair, now held a fragile glimmer of hope, and you knew that as long as you believed in his fight, miracles could still happen.

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[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + nineteen

authors note: this one has....some surprising twists and connections. that's for sure....

cw/tw: angst, fluff, and characters using dark humor to discuss mental health

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist + story playlist + taglist request form

words: 8k

Roman’s never been the type to really push things off. Not important things, at least. And seldom in his life has his to-do list ever really consisted of non-essentials. There’s always something to be done, a task to be handled, body or bodies to drop. 

But always at the top of the non-essential list has been his appointments with Dr. Michaels. They’ve always been more annoying than anything, annual routine check-ups that are required with his role as the Tribal Chief. To make sure he’s healthy and equipped for the job. Appointments the Elders are sure to stay on top of, which is also a large reason he hates them.

The Elders tried so hard at the beginning to stop and prevent him from taking his rightful place at the Head of the Table once he turned 18. Questioning his readiness, his eligibility (largely to him being afakasi), and even more, his capability. 

To be honest, it’s a major reason as to why Roman will never really respect them. For men who are supposed to uphold tradition, they seemed to throw that out the fucking window and jump through every available hoop to prevent him from fulfilling his father’s role. To stop a generational dynasty. 

It’s largely why Roman was so focused and dedicated at the beginning of his reign to prove them wrong. To prove them all wrong. 

Something he continues and will always do.

A knock on the door is followed up with the entrance of the man Roman could go the rest of his life without seeing. “Well, congratulations.” Roman maintains his bored expression, mentally going over the next items of his to-do list rather than entertaining his doctor. “You have the sperm count of a man in his twenties.”

That’s another annoying thing. The yearly tests to continue to monitor his ability to reproduce. Something he, like most things in life, passes with flying colors. 

“I’m sure the Elders will be thrilled to hear that.” Probably. Not that Roman gives a flying fuck. “What I’m not pleased with is your blood pressure.” Roman is slightly more present and engaged in the conversation at that. “Your numbers came back even higher this time, Roman. And while you’re not in the danger zone just yet, you keep this shit up of not taking this seriously, you will be.”

Yeah, the attention is fully present and focused now. Roman maintains a leveled voice while asking, “what the hell does that mean?”

Dr. Michaels sighs heavily, moving to sit on his stool, explaining carefully. “You have hypertension. It’s chronic, so it’s not going to go away by avoiding it. You have to take your medication as prescribed. That’s the only thing that will keep it managed.”

Roman looks away, rolling his shoulders. “It’s not that I don’t fucking take it.” And that’s the truth. When Roman remembers, he does. Or when he actually cares enough to, he’ll pop the pill in his mouth and down it with one of his energy drinks. 

“Every day?” Roman doesn’t bother with a reply, growing irritated at being scolded like he’s a fucking child. “Continue to fuck around with this, and you’re putting yourself at high risk for heart disease or stroke.”

Those two things seem almost impossible, like they shouldn’t even be used in the same sentence or paragraph as him or anything related to him. Roman is in excellent shape, works out at least twice a day, eats relatively well, doesn’t smoke or do drugs. Rarely drinks. All the good shit. 

All the healthy shit most medical providers recommend. Isn’t that enough?

It’s like the old man has uninvited access to Roman’s thought process, adding, “Hypertension is hereditary. Your dad had it. Your uncle had it. So, it only makes sense, especially with who you are and what you do, that you got it as well.” Jaw clenching, Roman refuses to comment on that. Refuses to discuss anything regarding his family. “You were technically in the prehypertension stage before, hence why I put you on meds to keep it from progressing. But, now you’re in the stage one hypertension range. Do you really wanna know and see what stage two would look like?”

Thankfully, Shawn doesn’t wait for a reply, continuing his long ass spiel. “You take such good care of yourself physically, but this one thing seems to be an issue for you?” When Roman still says nothing or even makes eye contact, Dr. Michaels goes for a different angle. “If you’re not going to do it for you, at least do it for that wife of yours.” That is when Roman’s sharp gaze lands back on his doctor. “She was a nervous wreck that night you were shot. Imagine what something happening to you that was avoidable would do to her.”

Damn him. 

For all intents and purposes, Roman does an excellent job at hiding the fact that Dr. Michaels found it. Found the thing that truly catches Roman’s attention. Solana always worries so much about him, especially this high blood pressure shit. He doesn’t even want to think about how she would react if she knew his numbers had gotten worse, that he’d slacked off a bunch on medication adherence since she’s been gone, since everything went down. 

She’d freak the fuck out, be an emotional mess, and it’d be all because of him.

Roman can’t have that. 

He won’t.

With a newfound purpose and reason to actually switch this topic from irrelevant to relevant, he relents, “fine. I’ll take the damn medication.”

“As prescribed?”

Smiling without an ounce of humor, Roman nods, reminding himself that it’s probably not a good idea to kill the doctor he’s had since he was 14. Michaels can be annoying, but he’s effective and hasn’t been a problem for the Tribal Chief. For the most part, at least. “Yes.”

Dr. Michaels chuckles. “Thank you.” He then stands up, looking down at his tablet and starts tapping around. “Unfortunately, because your numbers have jumped as much as they have, I need to up your dosage. I’ll send the script over to the pharmacy and make sure they have it filled today so you can pick it up today. Start tomorrow morning. Not next week. Or next year. Tomorrow. Alright?”

Not bothering to reply, Michaels walks over to him, smile almost sympathetic. “Good seeing you, big guy.” Roman scowls with borderline disgust at the light pat on his shoulder. “I’ll follow up with you in a month.”

Roman’s irritation spikes again. “A month? Why so soon?”

Hand on the door, Dr. Michaels shrugs and explains. “Gotta start monitoring your numbers more closely now.” He smirks a bit, taunting almost. “See if you’re as good at following directions as you are at giving them.” 

It’s when the door closes that Roman releases the heavy sigh. Always fucking something. Yet another thing added to his list. 

Of course. 

Roman stays annoyed, even as he’s escorted back into his office, the only thing keeping him from being completely vexed is the reminder that pops up on his phone. 

Visit with Sol

He’s scheduled to drive down to the treatment facility and spend the evening with Solana this evening. Something he’d never openly acknowledge to anyone other than her that he’s been looking forward to all week. 

Today marks two weeks since she transferred to residential treatment, and despite much more lax policies regarding personal items and even visitation, this will only be his second time seeing her.

And not because he hasn’t wanted to. 

No. Solana herself requested they stick to visits once a week versus more. Citing she wants to do this “on her own” as much as possible. The initial wording concerned him. He never wants her to feel like she’s alone in anything, but her follow up explanation provided him clarity on just what she meant. 

“You believe in and support me” A light shrug of her shoulders and gentle gleam in her pretty brown eyes as she adds with a determined nod. “I have to believe in and support me too.”

He checks in on her throughout the week, of course. And she keeps him updated on things like her individual and group therapy, even sharing photos of art she creates during down time. It helps that she’s allowed her phone this time around. Not that it would have made a difference if she wasn’t. There’s no way in hell he would allow her to be that far away without a way to directly communicate with him. Sure, Bautista is there, but still. 

Not enough.

But, it’s as Roman walks back into his office, any excitement at the thoughts of seeing his wife in person, being able to hold her and kiss her is dashed away. 

Replaced with well-hidden shock and irritation.

“What the fuck are you doing here?

There are two people in his office. Two uninvited people. One sits in his chair at his desk. The other sits on the edge of his desk. He recognizes one of them, but not the other. It takes a second for that recognition to dawn. It’s been years since he last saw him. He looks older, obviously, but outside of that, not much has changed.

Including his disrespectful ass disposition. 

A broad smile appears on the bearded face of the man who just doesn’t know today is the absolute wrong day to try to surprise Roman. To surprise a man who hates surprises in the first damn place. 

“Good to see you too, capo.”

There is nothing good about this. Roman already has seven million other things on his plate. He doesn’t need anything else thrown at him.

Especially this.

“Why are you here?” If there was anyone to come and pop up from the Cosa Nostra, he would have bet any money it would be Dwayne. And that would be a much better option than the bastard before him.

The woman on the desk chuckles. Roman can at least acknowledge her beauty. Breathtaking. Her features are almost too perfect to be real, her deep complexion free of any markings. A fine woman. Not Solana. Not in the slightest but still beautiful. She looks over at her co-intruder and speaks in Italian. “While the resemblance, physically, is undeniable. Personality wise is where it stops. Thank God. His bedside manners leave a lot to be desired.”

If she wasn’t a woman, Roman would have her laid out by now. To speak ill of him is one thing, but to do it in front of him is entirely different. Truth be told, if he wasn't already having a shitty day, a small part of him might be impressed at her balls. But, it’s not a good day. Far from it, so now he has to push back thoughts of murder.

Glare focused on her, he switches to Italian. “You have 1 minute to get the fuck out of my office, or else the only way you’ll be leaving is in a body bag.”

“Careful, Roman.” Matteo’s voice is light and surface level calm, but Roman knows better than that. Knows that it’s also a warning. If only he cared. “This is my wife.” 

“What makes you think I give a fuck?” Is Roman’s leveled reply. “I want her gone. Now.” Roman can’t decipher why this man would bring her in the first place. This doesn’t concern her. 

Matteo is smart, whispering something to long legs as she kisses his cheek and plops off the desk. Her smirk pisses him the fuck off as she walks past him, completely unbothered, remaining silent even as the door closes behind her.

Smug ass, prissy bitch. 

Roman doesn’t waste any time jumping back to the topic at hand. “Answer my question. Why are you here?”

Matteo sighs and sits forward, shaking his head. “Some things never change, huh?” Roman is just about to lose his shit at having to repeat himself when Matteo smartens up. “Dwayne sent me.”

Roman eyes him. “What?”

Matteo sighs, shrugging and rolling his shoulders. Roman’s mind quickly travels back to his last conversation with his cousin just a few weeks ago. Outside of the usual asking when he’ll fly out to Italy, he gave no indication that something was wrong. 

And yet Matteo, who Roman hasn’t seen in years, who is second to only Dwayne and lives in Italy full time, sits before him saying he was sent. 

“It’s as Dwayne has been telling you. The Administration grows restless of a leader who lives in a completely different continent.” 

This is nothing Roman hasn’t heard before a million times, but each time, his already limited patience continues to wane. “Is the business not successful?”

That’s an easy answer. “It is.”

Well then. “So why the fuck am I needed there?”

“Because they’ll do and find anything they can to delegitimize your reign.” A sort of frown falls on his face as he adds in a lowered voice. “To create a case.” 

Roman’s gaze narrows, his nose snarling as he catches on to what’s being shared. “They want you to clock me?”

Matteo nods, asking, “you remember our cugino, Luca?” Roman also nods, still trying to settle his anger that these bastards actually have the audacity to want him followed. “Well, he’s not that same scrawny punk anymore. He’s older, stronger, clever. Sadistic. They think he would be better suited to lead.”

It’s not that Roman cares, he’s just trying to get into Matteo’s head, see where his thoughts are. That’s the only reason he asks, “do you?”

Matteo doesn’t appear to think about his answer, which Roman finds a bit surprising. It’s almost as if he’s being honest. “No. Not at all. He doesn’t have the strategic mind to be capo. He leads with his emotions. Is irrational and strong headed. Even more hot headed than you are. He’ll run the business into the ground.”

It’s been years since Roman has spoken or interacted with his cousin, but the description provided seems aligned with everything he’d already pegged. Luca isn’t fit for this role. The weight that comes with being the boss. 

He would most definitely ruin the empire.

“How long are you here for?” 

“Not sure.” Matteo shrugs, running his hand through his hair. “That’s why I brought the wife and kids.”

The wife thing briefly took Roman off guard, but the kids thing especially surprises him. Not that Matteo is even remotely close to being someone he’s close with, it still stuns him a bit. Then again, most men around their age have a family of some sort by this point. So, it really shouldn’t be that much of a shock.

Matteo must catch on to Roman’s expression. “Three of them. Set of twin boys and a girl. Not exactly something I broadcast. Safety reasons and whatnot.” And that, Roman most definitely gets. Matteo looks down, an almost bitter scoff leaving his mouth. “We both know how they feel about us mixed breeds.”

Another thing they can relate on. In more than just the obvious way. Roman’s mother’s racist ass side of the family hated his father being Samoan but ‘accepted’ him, arranged the union solely because of who he was. Because of the Bloodline. But, Matteo’s Turkish father, an essential commoner, never stood a chance.

His mangled, tortured remains that were pulled from the bottom of a lake was an outcome that was always bound to come. 

Roman shakes his head. “And you wonder why the fuck I don’t want to be around any of them?”

Matteo chuckles darkly. “Not at all.” He grabs a paper weight on Roman’s desk and starts tossing it up and down. “You should be lucky it’s me here and not someone else. Dwayne had to fight tooth and nail for them to select me to spy on you. As I’m sure you already know, yet probably don’t care about, there aren’t many on the Administration who are exactly…..fans of yours.”

“And they never will be.” 

Matteo lifts his chin, calmly adding. “Of either of us.”

Silence. 

It’s not uncomfortable. Not comfortable either. Just….silent.

Until Matteo places the paper weight back down and stands up, slowly walking over to Roman. 

“Roman…..” Right away, the Tribal Chief knows he’s not about to like wherever this conversation is going. “I know….I know we’re not close for a lot reasons, but that doesn’t negate the fact that we are brothers—”

Yeah…..as always, he was right. 

He doesn’t like this shit at all. 

“We are nothing,” Roman snaps, practically growling, Matteo managing to tap into such deep rooted insecurities and so carefully tucked away traumas. “Sharing the same mother makes us biological siblings, but it does not make us brothers.” 

For the briefest second, there’s something that flashes in Matteo’s brown eyes. Something akin to hurt. But, it’s quickly pushed away, shoved to the back of the bus. He lifts his head and instead takes a step closer. 

“Whether you believe me or not, Roman. My loyalty is to you. You are the rightful capo. The Capo di tutti capi, and I will fight for and with you to the death.”

Roman says nothing, because he has nothing to say. Nothing he wants to say, at least. The statement lays heavy, joining the other pile of weights that have seemed to settle and make themselves comfortable in his head.

And his heart.

Matteo extends a hand, placing it on Roman’s shoulder, giving an almost comforting squeeze.

“You are mio fratello.” The word being repeated, however, is enough to make the Tribal Chief ready to resort to violence when Matteo, wisely steps back. “As I’m sure you’ve figured, while I’m here, I will need to be present for any and all meetings or discussions regarding the Cosa Nostra.”

Yes, Roman’s not a dumbass. Of course he has to. He needs something to report back to those bitches. It’s just how much of the actual truth will get relayed that he’s unsure about.

Roman continues to stand there, anger and twenty different other emotions boiling as the older man walks toward the door, readying to leave, but not without one final departing statement. 

“See you tomorrow, brother.”

—-------

“Is it true he’s packing an almost 10inch dick?”

Solana nearly chokes on the water she was in the midst of downing at the most unexpected, wild, flabbergasting question she’s almost ever received. 

And her expression of complete and utter shock is shared with the other two women who sit with her. 

Cam is the first to speak though, instantly chiding the other woman, “Mickie!”

“What?” Mickie, however, doesn’t seem to see the issue. Pulling one leg up on the sofa, she shakes the bottle of nail polish and starts applying the pretty lilac color. “Remember my ex-friend Layla? She fucked him one time and said it was the biggest one she ever had. That he could barely fit it in.”

“Mickie, for the love of God, shut up.” Melina cuts in, her voice less shocked and more irritated. She motions to Solana with her free hand, the other one in Solana’s lap as she designs the butterflies for her. “That’s her husband.”

“Well, she has to know he’s a hoe. Or used to be?” 

Cameron shakes her head, finishing up her own nail polish application to her short nails. “Seriously, Mickie, you’re out of line.” 

“It’s okay.” Solana finally decides to make her two cents known as she caps the bottle and places it back on the sofa beside her. “I—I know he….he had a reputation.” That seems like the nicest way to say it, the nicest way to acknowledge that her husband has probably slept with more women than she’d like to ever know. 

“That wasn’t an answer tho—ow!” Mickie winces when Melina punches her in the arm. “Bitch.”

Melina just chuckles, focus back on Solana as she jokes. “You see why we’re all here?”

It makes Solana smile.

To anyone else, the scene would be quite difficult to fully understand. Four young women chatting and joking amongst each other like they’re not all currently admitted and receiving treatment at a residential facility for women. They should be sad, moping, disconnected, unstable. And they have been all of those things, hence their current placement.

But, they’re also so much more than that. They’re human beings who hurt and feel like everyone else. They’ve just been hurt a lot more than some other people and have not responded or processed or even healed just yet. 

Emphasis on yet. Another thing Solana has picked up in therapy. 

“Did you guys do your assignment for Lilian?” Solana asks, partially wanting to redirect the focus from off herself and Roman’s…..anatomy, but also genuinely curious about their experiences completing the homework provided in group therapy.

Cam is the first to answer, shaking her head. “Yeah. It was…..not the best time.”

“Agreed,” Mickie chimes, shrugging her shoulders. “I mean, I tried to not be too depressing but ….considering I’ve tried to, as the kids say, unalive myself three times now, there wasn’t a lot to go off of.”

Solana winces. This is something she’s still getting a bit used to, if she ever fully will. How sometimes dark humor is so easily weaved into conversations. She’s seen and realized it’s a type of coping mechanism, but it’s still a bit difficult, nonetheless. 

The assignment being discussed consisted of the ladies being tasked with coming up with at least 10 chapter titles to represent their lives. Five from the past and five for the future they hope to have. Solana can agree that the ones for the past were a bit challenging and definitely sad, but her future ones managed to feed that hope she’s determined to not lose this time around.

“I kind of cheated and used song titles for some of them,” Melina admits with a chuckle.

“I used songs for all of them,” Cam counters with a small, sly smile. Of the three women, Solana seems to relate closely to her. They’re the same age and have the same quiet disposition that’s only shed away ever so slightly once they become more comfortable.

Which, clearly, has already started to happen.

“Have ya’ll ever heard Mama’s Hand by Queen Naija?” Almost everyone says no or shakes their head to signify no being their answer. Melina goes on to explain, “it’s this really pretty song she wrote about her son. I used some of the lyrics for my titles for my son.”

Solana, who was just about to switch to a different skin marker to start on the next butterfly, pauses. “You have a son?”

Yes, they’ve all grown rather close over the past few weeks, starting with their simultaneous hospital stays to where they all now room only doors down from each other in residential treatment. However, Melina having a child is news to Solana.

She nods and pulls the arm back that Solana was drawing on to reach in her back pocket, pulling out a folded photo. Considering Melina only reaches it to her, Solana takes a guess that Mickie and Cam already knew. Makes sense.

A smile naturally falls on her face at the sight of the curly haired little boy playing in the sand. 

Melina also smiles, though hers is clearly weighed down with sadness. “I took that just two months ago. We went to Isla Mujeres to go visit Santos aunt. She lives down there.” 

“He’s beautiful, Melina. What’s his name?” The mention of the island also captures Solana’s attention. “Roman and I were just there not too long ago, actually. He took me for my birthday.”

“Santos. Go figure.” She rolls her eyes, as Solana giggles. She thinks it’s actually cute he was named after his father. “And really? It’s so beautiful.”

Breathtaking. “It is.”

“Thank you.” Melina’s smile deepens as she takes the photo and tucks it back into her pocket. “We had a good time there. It almost feels too nice to be unreal, huh?”

Solana nods. “My mom used to tell me about it all the time, which is why Roman took us. He bought us a house there, so we can go back and visit.”

“Damn, what’s it like being married to someone so rich?” Mickie almost moans, head thrown back for a second before she gasps. “Could we do like a girls trip there or something? You know, assuming we don’t all get locked up again on grippy sock trips for trying to kill ourselves.” 

Cam rolls her eyes but admits, “outside of the suicide joke, that does sound kind of fun.”

“We can stay at your house,” Mickie suggests to Solana. “If Roman is okay with that, of course.”

Solana thinks about it. Something tells her he wouldn’t protest. Not if she really wanted it. He’d probably stay somewhere else, not wanting to be around a bunch of women, but she can’t see him saying no. Matter of fact, it kind of aligns with the idea she had brought up to Roman before the incident. An idea of a girls trip with Naomi and Bayley, who she still needs to talk to actually. 

She hasn’t interacted with them since that night. And not for any reason other than wanting to make sure she’s emotionally ready for that, no doubt, heavy ass conversation.

There will definitely be a lot of tears.

“I could talk to him,” she finally answers, looking over at Melina. And she will. It could actually be really nice having all of her now friends together for a nice getaway trip. “You should bring your son too.” 

Melina looks surprised by this. “Really?” She then looks down, chuckling sadly. “That’s if Santos trusts me enough.”

Given that their rooms are right next to each other, both here and at the hospital, Solana has found herself talking with and to Melina more than Mickie and even Cam. Melina is also Mexican, fluent in Spanish, which allows them to sometimes converse in the language only the two of them understand. But, in some of those conversations, they’ve gotten deep, which is why she’s slightly surprised this is the first time she’s hearing about a child.

Melina had disclosed a lot of her relationship with Santos Escobar. How they’ve known each since they were kids, shared some of their best and worst moments with each other, how he’s loved her through it all. 

Solana can still remember the heartbreaking look in her teary eyes as she shared, ‘he just wants me to love myself as much as he loves me’. And Solana related to that so deeply. It made her think of Roman and how he could never love her back most likely but how the way he cares about her and takes care of her probably feels just as good.

She knows what it’s like to be with someone who thinks the world of you when you can barely find reasons to justify as to why you even exist. 

They relate a lot in that regard. 

It’s why Solana reaches a comforting hand and places it over Melina’s hand, voice soft but sure. “You’re gonna get better, Melina.” She looks over to Cam and Mickie. “We all are.”

There’s a comfortable silence among the group that is welcomed and moving. A silent agreement between women who were once strangers and now friends. Sisters, even.

Mickie caps the bottle of nail polish and carefully places her foot back on the ground while reaching for Solana’s water bottle, lifting it up as if giving a toast. “To mental stability and finding rich men with big dicks to spend the rest of our lives with!”

“Mickie!”

—-----------

“You’re quiet tonight.”

Solana’s soft voice manages to snatch Roman away from that sunken place in his head where he’s sat deep in his thoughts for a variety of reasons, largely all due to the unexpected things that have been thrown at him.

He’d tried his best to put all of that into his visit to Asylum where he continues to extract his gruesome vengeance against her family and rapists. And it did help. A little, but clearly not enough where he’s able to hide the fact that he has a lot on his mind. 

“Come here.” Roman motions her over from where he sits propped up in the middle of her bed and she stands at the edge of the bed, notebook in hand. He watches the almost nervous way she places the book down on the bed and climbs over to him, Roman helping her straddle him. Kissing her exposed shoulder, he murmurs an apology into her soft skin. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes shut when she moves her hand to his hair, fingers almost massaging his scalp. “You want—do you want to talk about it?”

He can’t help but chuckle. The irony. “Isn’t that a bit counterproductive?”

She shakes her head, continuing to provide him soothing relief like nothing else can. “No. I—I told you before, you can talk to me too.”

It’s strange. If the situation was different, if he wasn’t still cautious regarding her mental health and the state of it, he might….he might take her up on it.

The Matteo situation though…..it’s complicated and layered and messy, and she doesn’t need any of that.

“I know.” Roman moves his hands to her hips. “But, I’m fine. Just a long ass day.”

Her eyes light with something. “Wasn’t your appointment today?” Shit. “How did it go? How’s your shoulder? What did he say about your blood pressure?”

Roman hates lying to Solana. He really does. She’s probably the only person in his life he’d prefer to not keep secrets from. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s been through more than enough shit to not deserve it.

But this…..he has to lie. 

Roman can’t think of one good thing that’ll come from telling her the truth. Solana seems to be doing well at this place, gradually improving day by day. Laying this on her will only hinder that progress and make her freak the fuck out. He doesn’t want that for her. 

He refuses to contribute to any type of regression.

Thus leaving him with only one option.

“It was fine, Sol.” To lie. “Shoulder’s practically healed. Numbers were fine. I’m good.”

That last part isn’t a lie, because Roman is determined this time around to actually do what Michaels said. To take his medication as he’s supposed to. 

For Solana.

He owes her that much.

She sighs, clearly and visibly relieved. “Good.” Roman feels like shit lying to her, but it’s for her own good. “C–can I show you something then?”

“You can show me anything, Sol.” Anything to take them off this damn topic is more than welcomed. 

He’s also reassured by the relieved smile on her face as she reaches back for her notebook, opening it, clearly looking for a certain page while talking. “One of the things I’ve been working on in therapy is goals. Like….setting goals for myself that are attainable and doable.”

“Okay.” Roman doesn't really know where she’s going, but right off the bat, whatever she needs might as well already be done. He’ll make it happen. 

“I…..” She trails off, biting down on her bottom lip, most likely trying to figure out how to say it. “I made a list of things I want to do when I get home. Some….some sooner, and some later.” Handing him the notebook, he starts reading off her neat handwriting, slightly taken back by the first thing on the list. 

Get back into training 

“Solana…..”

Roman is not opposed to Solana continuing to train. He thinks she should. Believes it’s been good for her. He just doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that it’s the number one thing on her list. Her mental strength, in his mind, should be the priority. 

She must detect and pick up on his hesitancy, eyes traveling to meet his. “He tried to take my life, Roman.” She cuts him off, her voice much lower and quieter than before. “In….in more than one way.” Roman can tell there’s another story there, but he won’t push it. Just keep it in mind the next time he’s hacking into her piece of shit father’s body. “He told me that because—because he wanted to break me, but I won’t—” She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “He didn’t. I’m not going to let him take away all the progress I’ve made. I know I—I regressed, but I am going to get better. I am better.” 

He respects that. Respects her so immensely. It hasn’t been the easiest thing for Roman to see her go up and down as much as she has over the past month. She’s had her highs and her lows, the lows being so much heavier than most people’s. 

And that’s just been for him. He can’t imagine how it’s been for her having to actually deal with all these things.

So, while a part of him wants her to just focus on her mental health, if she truly believes getting back into training will help aid that. He’ll support it. 

“Okay.”

She smiles, adding on, “did you—did you find a man for me to train with?” He did. In fact. He just hadn’t thought she’d want to jump right back into that either. “Also, I—I wanna learn how you do that thing you do.”

It’s the way she words it, the almost nervousness in her voice that makes him smile a bit. “Thing?”

She nods, shifting a bit on top of him. “You did it at WarGames. When you like…..ram into people. You knocked out whoever that was unconscious with one hit.”

It’s the added sentence that makes him realize what she’s referring to. “A spear?” And Solana nodding only widens his smile. Her innocence at the whole thing is adorable. “Baby, who you trying to spear?”

She shrugs, pushing some of hair back, cheeks reddening. “I don’t know. It just….it just seems effective.”

“It is.” When done correctly and done with proper training. It’d take her a while to get there, but if it’s what she wants, he’ll support it. “If you really want to learn though, I’ll teach you.”

Her smile is genuine and appreciative. Roman stealing a second to take it in, take in her happiness in this moment before moving onto the next one.

Host welcome home party 

At this second goal, Roman frowns, emitting a giggle from Solana. He looks up at her, clarifying, “does this mean you want people at the house?”

She playfully rolls her eyes. “Yes, Ro, I do.”

It was going so well. Training. He could get with. A bunch of people at his house though? Hell no. “Who exactly do you want to invite?”

“Jimmy, Jey, Naomi, Bayley, Melina—”

“Who the hell is Melina?” So far, there’s not a person listed that he’s in agreement with. “Baby, you know I hate people—”

“I know, but…..” She moves her hand to the bottom of his shirt, crumpling it while trying to plead her case. “They’re our friends….our….our family, and that….that means a lot to me.” Fuck. She’s too good at that shit. Tugging at his heartstrings. “Gail has been teaching me a lot about trauma and how it works. How connection is the way to heal. And that….that makes sense because you have been the biggest part of my healing, my connection with you, my—my love for you.”

Roman closes his eyes. Of course. Of course she would drop that word on him. The love word. The word that he can never voice to her and about her but feels with everything in him.

Taking in her heartfelt words, he nods, slowly. “Okay. Just…tell me when you want to do it and what you need. We’ll make it happen.” Thinking about something else, something important, he stipulates. “Jey’s not bringing them bad ass kids though. Or Nicki.” 

Solana rolls her eyes again. “Ro…..”

“Solana, I’m not about to have those failed Plan B’s destroy our house. And Nicki is a fucking arsonist. She’ll burn the place down.”

His wife pouting almost as she crosses her arms would make Roman chuckle if not for the fact he’s thinking about the last time Jey brought all his mistakes over to the property. Those little assholes caused over $50,000 in damages. Sure, it was of no financial consequence to him, but it was annoying as fuck to have to have people in his house doing the repairs. 

But, of course, his sweet saint of a wife lives up to her reputation. “Roman, that’s mean. They’re just….they’re just kids.”

“No, they’re vermin.” And he means that with everything in him. But, the minute Solana leans over and lays her head on his shoulder, a soft, desperate ‘please?’ leaving her mouth, it’s a wrap.

Damn her persuasiveness.

Or maybe it’s just his lack of resolve that seems to disappear when it comes to her.

Sighing against her, he mutters, “you know I can’t say no to you.”

Solana giggles, hugging and kissing him on his cheek. Meanwhile, Roman makes a mental note to have a shit ton of them kid leashes and fire hydrants ordered ASAP. 

Roman grunts as Solana murmurs a ‘thank you,’ and he moves onto the next one.

Get tattoos

This shifts the conversation a bit as he asks, “really?”

Nodding, she gestures to her inner right forearm where the colorful butterflies remain. Something she seems determined and focused to keep up. “I want to get the Hummingbird. For my mom.” She ghosts her fingers over her truly impressive artwork. “Butterflies. And….a semicolon.” Roman is grateful when she explains the last one on her own volition. “It’s….it’s for people who’ve survived depression and trauma and….and suicide.” She swallows, adding. “Something comes after a semicolon just like something comes after our darkness.” And before Roman can even comment on that, voice his agreement, she continues. “I want a lotus too. That’s for….for sexual assault.” 

She doesn’t say anything beyond that, and he doesn’t push it. Just brings her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm. “Just tell me when.” He’ll reach out to his tattoo artist and get her scheduled the same day if that’s what she wants. Whatever she needs. 

Solana smiles, licking her lips. “I—I want one for you too. I just—haven’t figured out what exactly.” 

She’s just full of surprises tonight. He understands all of the desired tattoos that she’s listed thus far. They all have such deep, profound meanings, so for him to be included in that list feels almost wrong. For her to want to put something permanent on her body for him seems wrong. “Solana, you don’t—”

“But, I want to.” 

He doesn’t know how to feel about that. Everything else she described was fine and made sense, but this one is a struggle for him. Regardless, he doesn’t push it further. Doesn’t question her.

He just continues to read through the list, the rest, for the most part, presenting no major issue. Things like continuing to work on her confidence, going back to Isla Mujeres, taking up pole dancing (he definitely wants the backstory on that as well as see if it can be moved up the list), moving all of her journals and books into the home library, etc.

However, Roman is a bit confused when he reaches the last numbered item that’s written in Spanish. She knows he doesn’t speak or understand practically any of it.

10) un bebe o una bebe

His confusion is evident, and it grows slightly when Solana almost gently takes the notebook from him and carefully places it on the bed beside them. She swallows, eyes focused on him as she moves her arms around his neck. “Roman…..I….”

Seeing her trepidation, he moves his hands to her hips, holding her. “Solana, talk to me.”

The reassurance seems to help, as she nods and blows out a deep breath. “Just…..promise me you’ll think about it before you give me an answer?”

This, however, doesn’t help him much. It only makes his curiosity grow at just what she’s talking about. Still, he won’t deny her request. “Okay.”

She moves even closer, gaze falling down to her lap. “When…..when I get better and….and more stable, I—” She lifts her eyes, voice steady and soft. “I want to have a baby, Roman.” Fuck. “I want us to have a baby. I—I want to be a mom.”

Of all the things to come out of her mouth this evening, some more than surprising, this has to take the cake. It’s the last thing he expected to hear her say.

Ever.

“Solana….”

“We have to make an heir anyway. I know….I know you’ve been taking care of that for us, but—but we can’t take forever, and—I’m ready. I know I need to focus on my mental health, and I am. I will, but…..Roman, I really want to have a baby with you.” She adds on, almost desperate and needing him to have all of the information so he can make the best decision. “And I talked to Dr. Stratus. She said all of my medications are safe to take while pregnant. We might have to change something if I decide to breastfeed, but she said that won’t be a huge issue either.”

Well, shit. Roman finds himself asking in a low voice. “You already talked to someone about this?”

She nods, almost nervously. “I just—I needed to know what she and Gail thought. If….if I’m stable enough for it.”

“What they say?”

She looks down, chuckling a bit, eyes watering. “They think I’d be a good mom.”

There’s something almost sad about the way she seems almost surprised by this. Like she didn’t think she’d be good at it until receiving their approval.

When, in actuality, he thinks she’d be the best damn mom a kid could ask for. But, she’d have to be…..with him as the father. 

Roman is not….he’s not built for that life. He doesn’t know or understand the first thing about kids other than they need and deserve all of the things he can’t and doesn’t know how to give. That’s why he’d have to lean so heavily on Solana, on her soft and gentle nature. And how would that be fair? To give her a child that she more or less would have to raise by herself because any overt involvement from him would probably increase the chances of the kid ending as fucked up as Roman is.

“You would, baby.” He finds himself agreeing, voice still low, gentle almost, even in the midst of such self-loathing thoughts. There’s so many things Solana is insecure and self-conscious about still, but this shouldn’t be one of them. “Amazing.”

The way her expression softens so deeply does something to him. “Really?” Her eyes watering is the icing on the cake as she grabs his hand, tracing the lines on his palm. “Y–you really mean that?”

He’s not sure he’s ever meant anything more. “Of course.”

Solana throws another curveball at him with the next soft admission to leave her mouth. “I think you’d be an amazing dad too.”

Fuck.

Keyword of the day it seems. 

Because just what in the hell is he supposed to do with that? How does he tell her that she’s wrong as hell? That someone like him really has no business being anyone’s father. That he’d just fuck up any kid of theirs. That despite recurrent dreams he’s been having about this, about fatherhood, that Roman in the dreams has to be someone else.

Can’t and could never be him. 

He’s good at a lot of things, maybe more than the average person, but that?

No.

Just…..no.

But what difference does all of this make when Solana is right about the fact that he has to have an heir. A child needs to be produced, whether he wants to or not, and this discussion is making him realize that while he’s spent his whole life feeling indifferent to fatherhood, the entrance of Solana, of having her be the mother to his kid, has thrown a wrench into everything. 

He doesn’t know what the fuck to think now. 

So, he expresses as such with as much carefulness as he can.

“I just…..I gotta think, Solana.” About more than just this. About everything. This day has been….a lot, to say the least.

“Of course.” She nods. And if she’s disappointed by his answer, she does a great job at not showing it. Roman welcomes her when she moves her body to lay on top of his, her face pressed against his chest. “I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

It’s a statement that stays with Roman for the rest of his visit, oscillates in the back of his head as he sits in the middle of the SUV while being driven home.

Everything feels like it’s all been happening at once, almost too fast, like the speed is something he’s somehow unable to keep up with. Newfound territory for the man who’s always prided himself at always being so in control.

But, he’s not. 

He’s not in control of damn near all the things right now, his emotions, namely. And it’s fucking miserable. 

His love for Solana that he can’t act on because he doesn’t know what the fuck that would even mean.

Not being able to help her to the extent she needs and not being there for her when she needed him the most. Not being there to stop her the night she tried to kill herself.

Not telling her the truth about her father and leaving her to find out in the most traumatic way.

Now there’s the matter of his health, his blood pressure that he once thought was insignificant, now a moderate to major issue. 

Couple on the unexpected reintroduction of his mother’s firstborn re-entering his life.

And to top it all off, Solana wants to have a baby.

With him. 

Fucking hell.

It’s not until mentally listing all of these things that Roman becomes aware of a tightness in his chest, a sensation he hasn’t felt in years. Not since….not since his last panic attack.

Fuck.

Realizing what’s about to happen, Roman rolls down the tinted windows and uses the passing, speeding cars as the source of distraction. He picks the color red and starts counting how many he sees, and when that’s not enough, he switches to cars vs SUV’s, mentally listing those off. 

He continues to do that until that dastardly feeling entirely dissipates. But, it’s only when he rolls up the window that he punches the headrest in front of him.

This can’t happen again. Roman has too fucking much on his plate and stands to lose way too much. He can’t experience his own kind of regression. But, that’s exactly what’s happening. The thought of which allows him to acknowledge for the first time, in a long that, that he’s overwhelmed.

Roman feels overwhelmed. 

It’s just too fucking much. His head is cloudy as shit, and he needs to just get away from it all.

Grabbing his phone, he puts Rikishi, Jimmy, and Jey in a group text and types out a message. 

Roman: I’m going to see her this weekend. 

Less than two minutes later, the phone dings with a reply. 

Rikishi: I’ll make the arrangements.

Expecting that answer, he moves to the next part of his messages. 

Roman: Jimmy, I need you and Naomi to keep Dulce for me. I’m gonna put you and Jey down as emergency contacts if something happens with Solana while I’m gone. 

Roman: And if it’s not in regards to my wife, don’t fucking bother me.

Roman switches to his thread with Solana, uninterested in anything else anyone has to say right now. He just needs to communicate with Solana.

He can’t tell her the truth, of course, but he does need her to know he won’t be as readily available. 

She deserves that much.

Roman: A work situation came up, so I have to go out of town this weekend. I’m going to leave Dulce with Jimmy and Naomi. If you need anything, call me, and I’ll come back home.

Roman places his phone on the seat beside him and tilts his head back, running his hand over his face. 

Then his phone goes off.

Solana: Roman….

Solana: I’m okay. You don’t have to do that. I’m safe. I’m….I’m feeling happy again. Just focus on yourself. You have so much on your plate right now. I can tell. I wish you would talk to me, but I get it….

Solana: Just please take care of yourself. Be careful.

Roman reads over her texts at least three times, really honing in on the ‘I wish you would talk to me.”

He’s starting to wish he could too.

He really is.

Solana: I love you. ❤️

Another ding, and he swallows. It’s getting harder and harder to have her be so vulnerable with him and not be able to reciprocate that. It feels cruel to ignore her, to say nothing when she tells and gives him everything.

It’s why after going back and forth in his head for a good two minutes, he eventually says fuck it and sends out a simple but telling reply.

Roman: ❤️

[dear-slim]

i just keep thinking about Eminem reacting to this new rapper girl (that he have been helping out in the music industry) and she releases a new song that is full Slim Shady Coded and he gets shock

(me & friend keeps talking abt this but we can't find anywhere a fic like itt

Warnings: swearing

Pairing: Eminem x fem!reader

A/N - MY FIRST REQUEST 😍😍 I gotchu boo, and excuse the cringe song name I made up at 10pm, half drunk and half asleep.

Also ChatGPT made these lyrics so don’t mind me

And, I wasn’t sure what you meant by slim shady coded, like, as in, something slim would sing or something related to him.

Dating another rapper wasn’t really what you expected when you joined the industry. Of course, it came with its classic ‘she’s only famous coz of Em’ bullshit, but you never paid mind to it.

Both you and your boyfriend knew perfectly well that you were a hit even before he’d entered the scene with you. All he’d done was promote your music with you, all of which was your own shit.

In his own words, he’d done nothing but be a good and supportive boyfriend, and he was right. Now, you usually ran your songs past Em, you wanted to know his thoughts and if he could make them better. After all, trust the pro, right?

But this song was a little different. You didn’t even know how you’d managed to keep it under the wraps, writing down lyrics in your notebook and staying up past when Em had fallen asleep to brainstorm lyrics.

Em was a key part of your life, he was helping your throughout the rough patches in your career, and the little surprise you’d planned was definitely something he deserved.

“Yo Em,” he heard a voice as he walked into the studio. Usually he’d hang with you, so he was pretty surprised when he heard a male voice coming from behind him, as he turned to see his long-time friend, 50.

“What’s good?” Em said, a little dazed, as he gave his friend a fist bump nonetheless. “Was just listening to some samples from your girl,” 50 explained as Em raised a brow.

“Some samples, hm? What song? She ain’t been writing one for a bit,” Em said, his eyes narrowed a little suspiciously. Em managed to catch a CD that 50 had thrust had thrust chest, as he walked over to the player, still a little bemused.

It was unlike you to keep a song hidden from him, as the tune to some song started.

Welcome to the circus, where the clowns run free,

Life’s a wicked game, and I’m holding the key.

Got the world on a string, watch the puppets dance,

In a realm of absurdity, I’ll take my chance.

Holy shit, that was crazy. He hadn’t expected a sudden change of style…and wow, it was damn hot, actually. He found his cheeks tinged a slight pink ad he thought about it, how you’d look in the studio, with the lyrics…

Yo, I’m rolling with the Shady, chaos in his eyes,

Life’s a wild ride, no need for disguise.

He’s a lyrical genius, wrapped up in a mess,

With a heart full of fire, but he’s got his stress.

He’s the king of the madness, got me feeling alive,

In a world of illusions, he’s the one who’ll survive.

With every twist and turn, I’m right by his side,

In this rollercoaster life, it’s a hell of a ride.

Em had to genuinely take out the CD, coz this was madness. He’d have never expected to see this from his girlfriend, even if you were a badass rap artist, but this was crazy. And extremely hot, at the same time.

“50! I said wait til I was here to show him,” he heard your voice as he turned round, eyes locking in yours, his lips parted in shock slightly as you flashed him a grin. “So?” you said, asking for his opinion as he spluttered, unable to formulate a sentence.

“Im taking that as a good sign,” you laughed nervously as he coughed. “A good sign?” he said, jaw going slack as he stared at you, “baby, this is amazing, this is gold!”. A proud smile jumped to your face at his words, cheeks tinged red.

“You think?” you asked a little sheepishly. “I think? No, baby, I know!” he said, hands coming to squeeze at your shoulders. This was gonna be a damn hit, and he was not complaining. Simply, just, further proof his girl deserved to be in the game.