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betterthanyalls · 6 months ago

Note

hi!

can i request for a hermes x gn!reader x odysseus? :)

i was thinking that maybe reader is already a friend of odysseus, like a childhood friend maybe or a neighbor/citizen of his kingdom and has known him for years

reader liked ody but ody already has penelope so they arent flirting anymore but when hermes shows up and starts taking readers attention for himself that's when ody starts to get a little jealous maybe? aaa sorry it has been a while since ive requested anything - i hope its not too specific ;v;

i just thought it would be fun to see witty banter battles and playful snark ^^"

I have spent my entire day throughout school and home to work on this so i am very sorry for any mistakes or if its bad, i was speed running before i eepy, also i tried to make reader x odysseus more platonic cus he got penelope yk? ALSO NGL THIS WAS VERY FUN TO WRITE HEHEHEH

Masterlist

Divine Intervention

Hermes x GN!Reader x Odysseus [p]

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Fluff

Words: 2.1K

Published: 11-5-2024

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A gentle puff of air blew through the vacant meadow, flowers brushing each other in a picturesque view. Within the center of the field, two souls lied together, laughing and gazing at the clouds with imagination.

“That one reminds me of Argos,” Odysseus pointed up to a running puff of white above that loosely resembled said dog. “Oh, I see it!” Penelope grinned, her smile shining brighter than Helios. A short distance away, under the shade of a tree, sat the best friend of the couple. With their backs against the tree, Y/n watched on emotionlessly. Their mind felt blank; witnessing the source of their love showing admiration to somebody else delivered a new type of pain to their chest. Y/n felt lost. Would they never be the first choice? Odysseus had known them for the entirety of both their lives, but the moment he met Penelope, he forgot all about Y/n. He was head over heels, claiming he’d marry the princess before he turned twenty. Sure, they stayed friends, but that wasn’t enough for Y/n though they’d never admit it. Y/n couldn’t even blame Odysseus. Penelope looked like a goddess sent from Olympus. Anyone could mistake her for a divine being.

With a silent sigh, Y/n prepared to push themself to their feet and take their leave. But a new presence stopped them from rising up. Looking to their left side, Y/n saw another figure sitting beside them. “Wow, really the third wheel, huh?” A cheery voice sounded from his mouth.

“Who are you?” Y/n asked, like any sane person would. “You mean you don’t recognize me? Your friend Ody would if you asked him,” the individual turned to face Y/n, giving them a good view of his identity. A metal helmet sat atop his head, adorned by smaller, brown, speckled wings. A mischievous grin was placed on his lips, with the rest of his face remaining covered by a shadow. Y/n leaned back slightly so the sun could pierce the shade better, revealing more of the man. A chiton made of the finest silk hung loosely from his shoulders, stopping at his knees. The male sat casually criss-crossed, his back propped against the same tree. A scepter sat on the ground beside him, holding two golden snakes and two glistening wings, power radiating off the item. Another point of interest for Y/n’s eyes were the sandals on his feet. Not in a footfetish type of interest, but intrigue with the fact wings fluttered like no big deal off the heels. Just as Y/n was going to breathe out his name, the guest spoke first. “Indeed, it is I, Hermes. God of messengers, travelers, luck, gambling, borders, animal husbandry, thieves, wit, speed, language, trades, commerce, athletes, merchants-”

The god continued rambling proudly about each of his domains as Y/n’s awe slowly fell into a deadpan. “I know you,” they cut off his boasting, not truly caring if it was rude. Thankfully, instead of being offended, the god merely grinned. “So, Y/n, what are you doing out here? Away from the party?” Hermes had a teasing tone in his voice, gesturing to the two lovers ahead of them. Odysseus and Penelope had no knowledge of a god offering company to their closest friend. Y/n wanted to ask how he knew their name, but they figured it was some divine power thing.

“Ody wanted to spend time with Penelope, but he was too nervous to come alone. So he dragged me along. But I don’t want to intrude on their moment together,” Y/n shrugged, looking at their friends.

The mischief god watched the mortal for a moment before a plan formed in his mind. “Well, I can’t let such a beautiful soul be alone, now can I?” Y/n turned to face Hermes, an amused yet confused smile on their lips. “I’m sorry?” They inquired, not sure if they understood his words correctly. In response, Hermes stood up and held his hand out to help the mortal up too. “If they have their moment together, then allow me to give you a moment for us.” The god had a gentle smile, keeping his hand out for them to grab. Raising an eyebrow, Y/n hesitantly took his offer and grabbed his hand. He pulled them up to stand beside him.

“So, where are we going?” Y/n asked, looking into the forest behind them. Hermes just laughed in excitement.

“You’ll see!”

And before Y/n could utter another word, the god pulled them close and took off racing through the trees. The world whipped past them at lightning speed. Trees, rocks, roads, towns—everything went by in a flash until suddenly it all paused.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n stepped away from the god. Their legs felt like brittle wood, threatening to give out at a simple breeze. Once they caught their breath, the mortal looked around to see them in the center stands of the nearby sports. Athletes were in the midst of competition down below, and nobody seemed to question two people just appearing. Hermes sat down on a stone slab and patted for Y/n to sit beside him. Doing so, the god offered them some grapes he may or may not have stolen from other mortals. “Did you choose this event just because you’re the god of athletes?” Y/n questioned with a small laugh, taking a grape to eat and watching the sports continue. Hermes responded with his own laugh, beaming at the person beside him. “Would you leave if I said yes?” Y/n pretended to think for a moment before turning to face him with a hum. “No, but you better make this worth it,” they chuckled playfully, popping another grape to their mouth. ~~~~~ Hermes did truly make it worth it. So worth it that the two began going on adventures every day. From splashing around in rivers to exploring dark caves, the mortal and god’s friendship grew each day.

Anytime Y/n questioned themself in a mirror, Hermes would somehow maifest behind them to compliment their looks before going back to whatever job he had that day. “Dahling, you look gorgeous—beyond stunning, truly.” Was heard more than once

They would even find gifts sometimes, usually always stolen, waiting in their bedroom.

~~~~~

Currently, Y/n and the king of Ithaca were sitting in his bedroom, just talking like old friends. “So, you’ve been disappearing randomly only to come back in one state or another. Not to mention, you’ve been much more upbeat lately. What’s going on?” Odysseus interrogated with a grin. Y/n stayed quiet for a moment. Could they tell their lifelong friend about the new soul in their life? Odysseus had a raised brow, waiting for a response. “C’mon, you know you can tell me anything.” He offered with a calmer smile. Y/n’s expression softened, and they sighed, deciding to speak the truth. "I met someone,” they began, trying to form the correct words. Something in Odysseus’ eyes changed at this revelation. His posture stiffened just for a moment before returning to his previously relaxed state. “And who may this 'someone’ be?” The king continued, trying to get as much information as possible. With a quiet whisper, Y/n confessed. “Hermes...” Their lips held a bashful smile as they looked away from their friends' eyes. The friend in question paused, blinking slowly to process the information. “Hermes?! The god?!” He exclaimed with an open jaw. Y/n quickly shushed him, shoving their hands in his face. “Sh sh sh! Shut up! Not so loud,” they hissed, taking their hands away carefully once Odysseus nodded in agreement. “You know Hermes?” He continued to quiz. “Don’t you?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the first conversation with the god. Hermes said that Odysseus would know who he was.

“Well, yeah, I do. But I didn’t think you would too,” he tried to reason, although his point fell flat. “You don’t think a lot,” they retorted. Before Odysseus could try to fire back, a sudden breeze blew in from the open balcony. Looking over, a certain god stood against the stone railing with a familiar grin. “If it isn’t my two favorite mortals! If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say I was the center of this discussion,” Hermes laughed, waltzing into the room. He ruffled Odysseus’ hair playfully before taking a stand next to Y/n.

“Hermes.” Odysseus brought a hand up to fix his hair. The god just laughed again, wrapping an arm around Y/n’s shoulder to give them a side hug. The narrowing eyes of the soldier didn’t go unnoticed by Hermes, brightening his smile.

“Hey Hermes,” Y/n greeted warmly.

Odysseus didn’t enjoy seeing his best friend so cozied up with another person. Even if that other person was a god who saved his life multiple times and also his great-grandfather. An idea began forming in his mind to get rid of the situation. “Y/n, I think I remember seeing a show taking place in the city. You and I can go see it now before it finishes,” the king offered, casting a victorious grin to Hermes as Y/n gave their own smile. “That sounds cool! Yeah, we can go!” Y/n moved away from Hermes' hug as the two mortals took their leave. Once they left, Hermes frowned and took his own leave back to his previous tasks for Olympus. ~~~~~ It didn’t take long for a secret war to begin. Every moment, Y/n was in between two opposing sides. They were either with Odysseus one day and Hermes the next, or they were sitting in between both males who kept trying to one-up each other, which would eventually end in arguments.

“I mean honestly, darling, why spend your time with such a brute when you could have someone as divine as I?” “BRUTE?!”

“Really, Y/n, he’s the god of lies. If anything, his words mean nothing compared to mine.” “Your entire reputation is a lie.” “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, Y/n—” “Oh, please. That’s more of a stress than a privilege.” “Did you hear something, dahling? Why, I can’t seem to hear anything below FIVE FEET.” “OH HOW MATURE—” “IT IS!!”

This took place almost daily, and it acted as peak entertainment for Y/n. ~~~~~ Today, unlike any other, Y/n and Odysseus sat quietly in a familiar meadow. However, the king was being unnaturally quiet. Turning to face their friend, Y/n spoke up.

“Ody, are you alright?” Concern was clear in their voice as they waited patiently. Odysseus didn’t make any notice of hearing their words for a minute before he finally answered.

“You’re replacing me.”

Those words caught Y/n off guard. Odysseus was looking at the grassy field around them rather than meeting his companions eyes.

“What? No, I’m not. What makes you say that?” They furrowed their eyebrows in worry, anxious for his reasoning.

“You spend more time with him,” he hissed, speaking of the god like venom on his tongue.

“Well, maybe, but-”

“BUT NOTHING! I’m supposed to be your best friend! Me! Not him. It’s us against the world; we agreed on that years ago.” Odysseus turned to Y/n with a deep frown, his eyes showing unease. He had been betrayed time and time again before; he couldn’t risk losing another friend.

Y/n stayed silent, stunned by his sudden outburst. Odysseus just looked back to the meadow, shame filling his soul. After a few moments, Y/n regained their bearings as sympathy and guilt covered their features.

“Ody,” they called softly, but he continued to look away. "Ody, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he looked over to his friend.

“Ody, I could never replace you. You are woven into my soul like a grapevine. Why do you think I would break our pact?” They spoke softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Odysseus sighed, looking back to the ground. He felt so stupid for assuming they would hurt him too.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled gently, looking at them out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s alright; I would do the same if I were you. I forgive you,” Y/n smiled warmly to him, earning a hesitant smile back from him.

~~~~~

After this whole incident, Odysseus stopped arguing so much with Hermes. Sure, the mortal still gave the god a few half-hearted glares, but they eventually learned to share Y/n’s attention.

The trio sat calmly on the balcony of Odysseus’ room, waiting for Penelope to arrive for a nightly get-together. The sun sank slowly below the horizon, offering a charming glow to the city.

“So, darling, how’d you manage to get such a feral man to calm down?”

“FERAL?!”

#x reader #fluff #betterthanyalls #ask #oneshot #epic odysseus #epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #epic musical #oddyseus #hermes x reader #epic hermes #epic hermes x reader #hermes #epic #odysseus x penelope #odysseus #the odyssey #odysseus x reader

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nicoliine · 1 year ago

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About the times when Alastor touched you and when he expected you to do it back.

☆彡 How in the world does the radio demon, who doesn't really like physical contact, end up looking for any excuse to have his hands on you?

☆ Reader is g/n; no pronouns or y/n are used.

☆ Warnings: not really. Does a mental breakdown count as a warning? Alastor is a warning itself yk.

☆ English isn't my first language, so if there's any mistake I sorry-

You noticed that Alastor didn't like people's proximity when you first arrived at the hotel and he didn't even try to shake your hand. There, with your hand on the air, you stand waiting for his shake as you observe his ramblings about a whole different subject—not that you mind about all the weird souls that can be met in hell—watching him around the other hotel staff, you confirm it.

After a couple of days in the hotel and witnessing his power display, you made a mental note to not mess with him. That being said, you didn't really want to touch him.

You were a very touchy person, content to hug Pentious when you first saw him around in the morning or cuddle on the couch with Angel before he started to make a lewd comment about his job and you just ended up leaving him alone. Nifty seemed to enjoy being all over you, sitting on your shoulders while you were reading or just playing with your hair.

Another one who was happy about your touchy personality was Charlie, but she is just happy about everything.

☆◦•◦☆

It started a month from your arrival.

Alastor, being a self-proclaimed gentleman, didn't seem to be aware of your not touching Alastor rule, he started holding the door open for you then creating a shadow to lift up that heavy box that you needed to move, and you ended up—it was hard for you—just trying to move up your body away so you didn't end up too close to him, but he seemed to love your personal space so much.

One time, you were in the hallway, not really aware of your surroundings, until you felt an arm around your shoulders. When you heard his static voice, you froze on your steps, slowly turning your head to see him there, standing with that so-known smile of his. When he started to walk, still holding you, talking about that great idea for the hotel, you just couldn't pay so much attention. Your mind is running on thoughts about his proximity.

This wasn't the only time he ended up having you close to him; being honest, it seems to have a personal liking to your presence. You doubt he was like that before your arrival (as you already spoke with Charlie about it), but he could be found anywhere you were. If you ended up helping fix the balcony fence, he was there behind you—you're glad he's at least silent—or when you are in the bar just scrolling through your phone and he is watching you from the other side of the room, not wanting to be near your technology artifacts, is he just trying to drive you mad? Even though that look of his seems to be asking for something you don't know, you won't ask what it is. Just wait to see how it goes.

His touch soon became more frequent. You often end up with your own theory that it's something involuntary, like something he doesn't even notice by the way it feels, like deep in the end he just wants to be touched but don't know how to ask for it. But with that demon, nothing is sure; everything he does used to be planned. That's why you found yourself confused and don't want to test your luck.

When you are in the lobby in the middle of one of Charlie's activities and his arm ends up holding you by his side.

Or when he just kisses the back of your hand every time you first see him in the morning and every time he leaves, no exceptions, that confusing look of his is always there.

Just about that, your hands—he often takes your hands. While you are in the kitchen and waiting for the pasta on the stove, one of your hands is resting on the counter as you hold a recipe book, reading the next steps. He's by your side the whole time; one of his hands takes your free hand, making you pause your reading and look at him in surprise for the sudden action. He says nothing, and both of you are standing there in silence until you have to go back to cook. However, he doesn't seem to want to let you go yet because he will follow you as you move around the kitchen.

From them, it seems that everyone is aware of this weird Alastor thing.

Nobody talks about it though—you are surprised as they have stayed out of the subject, just making silent bets about the cause of this behavior of his—but you know it wouldn't take long for someone to talk about it.

☆◦•◦☆

The last time he put his hands on you, you were scared. So much has passed since the last time you felt this way. Anxious and terrified, everything around you was spinning; you had to run away from the hotel activities all day.

When Alastor found you in your room, you were a mess, all your stuff scattered around the room. You saw him from your seat in a corner on the other side of the room; the only candle in the nightstand seemed to be dead soon. He just stood there in front of you; you didn't even try to look up at him, just his shoes. You can tell so much about someone else by his shoes; his shoes seemed almost perfectly clean even after destroying his enemies. He's such a collected person that it scares you.

"Why, dear, would you look at me?" Alastor surely doesn't enjoy being ignored; you know that. You just couldn't find the strength to move when he spoke to you. It passed almost 5 minutes before you turned your head up, and he was so patient with you the whole time. "What is that troubling your mind, dear?"

You didn't respond right away; you're not sure how much time passed until you did it.

"It's just... everything." Your hands run around your face as you try not to have an attack right away in front of him. "I'm so scared, Alastor."

He just smiled; nothing was said; he didn't even try to touch your shoulder or hold you; he just smiled with that now so common smile of his, —you could swear it was the biggest smile you had seen on his face —one of his arms extended to you.

You have no idea why you did what you did; maybe he asked you directly, or you imagined it all, or his eyes showed what he wanted, or the candle in your room was one of Angel's drugs, or you just simply had a death wish. You don't know.

But you hugged him—just a hug—so hard that you could break his bones. When you took conscience about what you were doing, you tried to back down, not knowing how he could react to your contact.

But he didn't let you; his arm took you by the waist, and his staff was forgotten on the ground when he held your head against his shoulder.

You now understand why he always touched you. While you hands grabbed fists of his coat, he held you so tight, like it wasn't enough, and you just needed to be closer to him forever; he didn't want anything else.

So he did, he didn't let you go for a single moment that night; even when you were in bed, he held your hand the whole time. He just let you go the next morning when Vaggie insisted he needed to go do his job, even so he wouldn't forget to kiss your hand before he left. The ghost of his touch accompanied you all the time; it was like your body grew so used to his presence and his touch that you could feel it as a part of you.

Touch Starved! Alastor folks!!! Alastor is such an interesting character to write! I want ro respect him so bad.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated 💞

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #istg this man smells like wood and coffee #nicolines

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doinkbunny · 1 month ago

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✧₊⁺ THE RED MEANS I LOVE YOU 𝜗𝜚

𑁯 Yandere ENA admiring reader.

ᵎᵎ.˖ꪆ𖠵꒷ Pst! Cherry says: In which you ramble like a kid to ena but she's too distracted admiring to pay attention. This fic was fueled by my absolute adoration with this silly girl, i need her so baddd so i might make another fic like this if this gets enough attention. (There's mlp reference in this btw.)

.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ Warnings: Obsession (duh), possessiveness, Meanie is almost cracking while salesman is on her last thread.

𝜗𝜚 Type: Fluff, romantic, one shot.

｡𖦹°‧ Song: Lovers rock.

"Beautiful, so beautiful," she felt so fuzzy anytime she looked or talked to you.

That's one of the many, many things you were doing to her, and there are so many reasons why. She loved the way your lips moved, the way you'd subtly increase the intensity of your gesticulation whenever you got too excited talking, and even when you would accidentally choke over your own words.

She was head over heels for you. It was quite the exquisite scenario, even: someone making the unforgivable and chaotic ENA grow a feeling or two. And obliviously.

You were sat with ENA near the lake, your hands moving random circles and squares in the air, your feet touching the water subtly with some of your hand movements while you intensely ranted to her, your excited tone never wavering.

And so did Ena's continuous admiration.

As you kept going with your explanation of some type of pony cartoon, Ena couldn't help but admire the way you looked so excited to talk to her, of all people. Most people would have distanced themselves once they heard the rumors about Ena, but you? No, you were different.

And maybe that's why she's so hooked, because you treated her like a human, something visible and with feelings—the bare minimum.

And only God knows how that made her feel good.

You made her feel something she'd never felt before so spontaneously, it was almost soul-bonding, and that's when she immediately knew you two needed to stay close.

To her luck, you actually enjoyed her presence and would often seek it more than she wished for, consequently making her need to see you satiated. That was good.

What was bad, though, were the times she'd have to stay away from you—unwillingly, making her miss you almost immediately.

These times would come so suddenly, and not only because of her stupid jobs from her deplorable job. Sometimes duty calls for you, and then, she'd be forced to just let you go.

While her salesman side was good at hiding her frustration, Meanie was almost combusting from the inside out, forcing Salesman to take control in order to avoid any... mistakes, letting you go so easily but hesitantly.

And once you're gone? That disgusting sensation of longing to feel you once again would fill her quite quickly; that would make any hidden frustration pop out like a balloon under any slight pressure.

Ena can't handle it—she wants you so badly. Your detailed and well-rendered polygons against her badly loaded ones makes her feel so less nauseous.

Gosh, she wishes she could just—

"Ena?" A voice calls out, her name catching the desired attention; hers, shutting down the continuation of her previous thought quickly, her head jerking slightly from on top of her palm that was supporting it before, her eyes landing on the source that called her name.

You.

Her signature smile popped on her face rapidly as once her attention was back to the world outside her thoughts, erasing any trace of possible tension.

"I'm sorry, my dear, I've gotten quite distracted by my own brain. What was the topic of the conversation, again?"

"Oh, nothing, just a silly show about ponies and friendship... What were you thinking about, anyways? You looked pretty deep in thought."

You curiously and somewhat worriedly asked, gaining a different type of endearing smile, a little short laugh, and a light pat on your head from Ena, her eyes closing ever so slightly with the smiling.

"I can assure you it's nothing but some silly reflections. Don't worry your pretty little head."

Word Count: 382

#ena x reader #ena joel g #ena dream bbq #dream bbq #Ena dream bbq x reader #Dream bbq x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #⋆. 𐙚 CHERRY WORKS

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mannequinreligi0n · 7 months ago

Text

Mating Season

get bred, loser

pairing: dante x reader (female anatomy, gn pronouns)

wc: 2.2k

warnings: NSFW - breeding kink, monster-fucking, blood/blood play

author’s note: i’ve been meaning to write this for so long but unfortunately i am a depressed adult with a full time job, and finding time/energy to write is difficult :’) sorry if this isn’t up to standards or there’re mistakes. enjoy, smooches.

links: ao3

Twelve missed calls, six voicemails, and twenty-three texts from Dante is what you’re greeted with upon waking up - and it’s barely noon. Scrolling through the texts, you’re met with the ramblings of a madman, pleading for you to come over, to see him, to cancel your plans for the day. With a quick shower and change of clothes, you oblige in his wanton demands and head over to the loft.

You only manage a single knock before the door swings open and Dante is dragging you inside by the sleeve of your sweater.

“Dante! The hell has gotten into-“

”No time. Don’t ask.”

He pulls you straight into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Throwing you over his shoulder, he launches you onto the bed with a ‘thump’, your smaller form springing on the mattress. Dante reels over you, snatching your coat off and ducking his head into the curve of your neck with a deep inhale, nose sniffing your skin like a damn bloodhound.

”You showered,” he mopes, teeth pulling at the fragile skin of your throat. You squirm under the weight of him, hands pushing at his chest to levitate some of the burden.

”Yeah, so what?’

“You weren’t supposed to - I said not to. Did you even read my texts?”

”Dante, you’re being ridiculous. Do you even hear yourself?” You lift your head up to look at him, pushing him off of you. Dante makes a sad whine, a demeaning sound coming from the devil hunter. His messy locks flop down in front of his face and he lets out a long sigh, hands pawing at the fabric of your pants.

”I’m sorry, babe. God, you don’t have any idea how hard this has been without you,” he mumbles sheepishly, eyes fixated on the faint red mark he left on your neck. His hands trembled against your legs, clearly trying to hold himself back in order to have a coherent conversation with you. “I thought I could handle this alone, but I keep thinking about last week…how warm you felt, like that pretty little hole was made just for me,” he interrupts himself with a groan, hunching over as if in pain. You reach a hand up and push back the already sweaty strands to see his face, feeling his fevered skin brush your fingertips.

”Why didn’t you call me over sooner? You know I would’ve came,” you murmur, observing his needy state with a bit of concern.

”Didn’t wanna be a bother. I thought I could handle it on my own, y’know? I always have, but with you in the picture now-“ He lurches toward your hand on him, nuzzling into it with a choked breath. “Please…please, just-….just let me-“

You pet his cheek as you think over the proposition, mouth pursed. You finally agree with a small nod, pulling your hand away.

“Is it safe?”

”I won’t hurt you. I would never,” Dante reaches for your wrists, thumbs rubbing at the pulse points. He stares at you with his best ‘puppy-dog’ look, a pout on his lips. “I’ll be good, I promise. God, please, just let me fuck you - you got a man begging here.”

You chuckle and shake your head, pulling him back to you with a mumbled ‘c’mere’. Dante wastes no time latching himself back onto you, pulling your shirt off and biting down on your shoulder with a chesty groan. His hands work at your pants as he marks up your skin, the bites hard but nothing compared to the ones you’ll receive soon enough from his fangs. Clothes gone, you writhe under him and he sits up and sheds his own clothes, sparks of red already flitting off of his skin. Blue eyes morph red and he squeezes your thigh reassuringly, throwing you a shaky smile.

”You remember the safe-word, sweetheart?”

”Ciabatta.”

“Right.”

With a quick peck to your forehead, Dante rolls out his shoulders, cracking a few joints in his spine and neck. Warm, amber light coats his bedroom and Dante’s body morphs into his devil trigger, his nine-foot form casting a daunting shadow over your bare skin. Your breathing quickens at the sight - you’ve seen his DT before, but never like this, never between your legs and teeth glistening in your direction. Sensing your fear, Dante runs a knuckle over your cheek, mindful of his claws. A low, rustling rumble echoes from his vocal chords, bending down to meet his ghastly face to yours.

”It’s still me…” he breathes out, voice altered but still holding his signature lilt. Wings cocoon your body, cradling your form as he lifts you up to dangle in front of his chest. The heat of the flames rippling over his scales threaten to scorch your delicate flesh, the heat making your sweat glands break open and perspire. Dante’s mouth opens and an orange tongue lined with bumps and grooves laps a line across your own chest, taking in the decadent taste of you. Despite your trepidations, you can’t hold in the moan that drops from your mouth, eyes fluttering closed. Transparent, tangerine saliva drips down your abdomen as his tongue roams around, stimulating nerves from your throat to your navel, bumps dragging across smooth skin.

“My mate…Mine, mine,” Dante growls out, clawed fingers pinching at your thighs as he pushes your knees to your chest, wings supporting your weight from behind and below.

”Dante, c-careful, Jesus,” you whimper out, laser-focused on his claws dangerously close to shredding your skin open. All you get in response is another resonant growl, steam pillowing off his breath. Before you can warn him again, the sandpaper tongue swipes at your hole, making you shudder and go limp against his wings, forgetting your train of thought. One thing about Dante was that on the surface, he came off as reckless, impulsive - but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He had backup plans for his backup plans, and thought out every little thing. As much as your body was sounding off alarms to scramble away from the devil, he was taking the time necessary to warm you up before indulging himself - a preliminary ‘thank you’ for being a willing victim. You look up at Dante’s face, or what used to be his face, and lock eyes with the fiery orbs glaring down at you. It was hard to tell, but you could swear that little shit was smiling down at you, knowing you’ve put two and two together. A bass of laughter shakes his form, leaning forward to bump his forehead to yours as carefully as possible.

”Told you. No harm.”

You let out a shaky breath at his smartass remark, but it’s futile to steady your breathing. Dante’s tongue pushes into your hole, pointed and flexed as it slides between your inner walls. The feeling is indescribable, and for lack of a better word: devilish. Your juices coat the length of his tongue as it assaults you repeatedly, twisting in and out while talons keep you folded upright against your squirming. Heat floods your core as your release builds upon itself, gasps and symphonic moans invading the quiet room.

Dante can’t hold his instincts back when the taste and smell of your essence is practically reducing every cell in his body into a lust-driven beast. Ejecting his tongue, his wings cradle you down to the bed, knees kissing your ears in a mating press. Your thighs quake against his scaled palms, missing the fullness of his tongue. You open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, but the words jumble into a whine of pain as his head propels to take a bite at your shoulder. Fangs puncture skin and the devil seems to purr as the crimson nectar dribbles from the bite and into his mouth. The receptors in his brain are screaming at him to bite down again and again and again til you’re a battered, bloody mess - every centimeter of flesh peeled back and consumed in the most carnal way.

Thankfully, the human conscious in him refrains and with another nibble to your neck, he withdraws and centers himself with the pulsating warmth beckoning him in. He doesn’t need to check how wet you are - he can smell it, the pheromones rippling off your sex in waves that rivaled a tsunami. A bulbed shaft stretches into your slick and your head shoots up with a scratchy yelp, pain radiating to your hips. A huff of steam leaves the devil’s nostrils, halting to save you more pain despite his needs. Dante watches your fingers go white against the bedsheets, hanging on for dear life, and you can see his wings wilt at the realization he’s letting his devil instincts get the best of him. A clawed hand grips both of small ankles to hold you in place, the other letting go to scoop up one of your hands. Scales run over the skin gingerly, your fingers curling around his thumb for security.

“Deep breaths, baby. Big, deep breaths for me,” he hums out, the mechanic whirring of his vocal chords carrying his voice past your panicked thoughts. You obey, chest rising and falling as your blurred eyes trace the flame spitting from the top of his head. Dante can feel your walls unclench around him and he takes it as a sign to keep going. It’s a slow and painful process, but inch after inch, he manages to squeeze about half of himself in before hitting your cervix.

‘Damn human anatomy,’ Dante curses internally, but makes peace with the complication, thankful enough that you're taking it like a champ. After a moment of stillness, ensuring you’re okay, he starts to move. Armored hips lurch in and out of your tight hole, hushed growls filling your ears. All you can do is lay there, pliant and accepting. Your hold on his finger tightens as your body rocks around with the thrust of his unnatural cock, his name the only coherent word you can manage while he jabs at your g-spot continuously. Dante’s teeth find their way back to your flesh, leaving bloody constellations along your legs. So consumed by the fullness of his girth, you don’t notice the ruby fluid dripping down your limbs from the bites, barely registering his tongue greedily licking you clean. Bursts of white spot your vision, core muscles tightening as your orgasm tears through you and a scream of pleasure brings tears to your eyes.

“Mine…Mine to fuck, mine to…to take…gonna look so good when you’re full of my cum…” Dante snarls against your skin, pounding his cock into the wall of your cervix with ferocity. He can’t take it anymore - he needs to come, he needs to watch it drip out of you precious cunt. Securing his hand around your ankle, Dante runts himself into your hole, gusts of wind sending goosebumps down your frame as his wings flap behind him with excitement. With a bellowing roar from him, you can feel the powerful deluge of seed swarm your body, gushing out and down your center. You feel like you’ve been hit by a semi-truck, limbs trembling and aching as you lay lifeless under him, gasping for air.

A glare of red light makes you wince, eyes straining against the light to see Dante devolve to his human form, dripping so much sweat it’s like he jumped in a pool. Dropping your ankles, he pushes himself between your legs and plants a sloppy, loving kiss on your mouth, hands threading in your hair. You kiss back weakly, shaky hands holding onto his arms. Pulling his head back, he examines you for any serious injuries, eyes conveying a battle of concern and satisfaction.

“You okay? Hurt? Was it too much? God, sorry- sorry, I-“

“Dante, I’m fine,” you let out a wavering chuckle, sitting up slightly. “That was…incredible. You were incredible.”

Dante meets your eyes again with a surprised laugh, in disbelief you’re praising him in a state like this. His fingers trail down to the bites along the outside of your thighs, vaguely recalling how your skin felt between his fangs in his primal craze. He remains plugged inside you, the intimate mixture of releases leaking between your bodies.

“Look at you…” Dante traces along a more gnarly mark in admiration, blood trickling over his finger. “How’d I get so damn lucky, huh?”

He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks off the blood, that all-too-familiar teasing gleam in his eyes as they lock on yours. A throaty moan leaves him as he swallows, fingers falling away with a string of spit. The scene goes straight down to your heat, walls closing around on him with need. Sitting all the way up, you grab his hand and playfully nip at his wrist, dilated eyes devoted to memorizing him in this moment.

“Can we go again?”

“Again?” Dante laughs, raising both eyebrows at you. “Honey, I don’t think th-“

“Please,” you pout at him, kissing along his hand til you can slip two of his fingers between your lips. Dante’s jaw goes slack, a heady breath fanning over your face as his cock twitches inside you from your plea. With a hard swallow, he nods, free hand cupping your face.

“Fiiiiine,” he sighs out, putting on a show of dramatics before a smile tugs at his lips. “Flip over for me, princess.”

#dante sparda x reader #devil may cry #writing #fanfic #dmc #oneshot #smut #devil may cry smut #dante x reader #dante dmc #dmc dante #dante sparda #devil trigger #dante devil may cry

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mingoooossii · 5 months ago

Text

ATEEZ comforting you after you have a rough week.

Ot8 x reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of hugs, reader is overwhelmed in most of these, mentions of exams(scary ik), kinda corny tbh, also not proofread so there might be some mistakes.

A/n: i used most of my braincells 4 this 🫠 yea also this purely depended upon my mood so that's why some of them are just thoughts while the others are full blown conversations. will most likely rewrite this is in the future I think. Also I'm planning on opening taglists so if you want to be included just lmk!! (for ateez or any other group)

Words: 3.1k

Requested ♡ Ateez masterlist.

"When you feel like you're nowhere, Let it go 'cause I'll be there for you..."

⋆˚࿔ Hongjoong

• whenever things get a little too much, you'd usually suck it up

• it wasn't healthy, you know that yet you couldn't afford to fall back now so you did it anyway

• him, who's very sensitive to your every little changes in mood, of course, noticed it too

• you tend to sort of shut down whenever you get overwhelmed, causing you to get moody and quiet, often leading to minor arguments with him

• but he understands (being prone to overworking himself, he was never too fond of the after effects)

• but that doesn't mean he's not going to do anything about it

• ”you're taking a break.” “But I need to finish this-”

• he cut you off by closing your book, making sure to bookmark it before picking you up from the chair

• ”have you looked at yourself yet? you're about to collapse.”

• you fell silent at that, letting him carry you over to the bed, feeling your irritation dissolve at the stern tone, yet you could pick up on the hint of worry.

• ”but I need to finish it, or else I won't catch up on my work. I'm already behind in-”

• your worried ramblings was silenced by his lips pressing against yours for a brief moment

• ”i vaguely remember someone pulling me out of my studio, by my ear, when I was overworking myself.”

• he muttered, sitting beside you once he put you down on the bed, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear

• ”you should listen to your own advice, you know?”

• you could feel the tears pricking your eyes at his words, making you feel helpless and frustrated

• ”there's just…so much. i don't know if I'll ever finish it…what am I gonna do?”

• you mumbled, your lips trembling as you tried to bite back your sobs

• his expression softened at your words, pulling you into his embrace, stroking your hair

• ”i know. but exhausting yourself is only going to make it harder for you to catch up.”

• ”let's take a break, okay? you need to rest, let your mind calm down first.”

• you felt him pull away from you, his hand wiping your tears away

• ”how about we go for a walk outside? some fresh air would help, i think.”

• you thought for a bit before nodding. you definitely wouldn't be able to get anything done while you were in this state.

• he finally let a small smile break free, standing up, moving to get your shoes for you

“An ice cream could help too, i've heard. and there's a parlour that just opened up, down the street. i think it's fate.”

⋆˚࿔ Seonghwa

• "are you okay?"

• he asked softly, worry lacing his tone as he watched your sullen figure drop down onto the couch.

• "I'm okay."

• your curt response came out as if it was clockwork, removing your bag before burying your face into the comforter

• you obviously weren't. Well, it'd been like that for a while now

• he sighed before coming over to you on the couch. He knelt down and reached out to take off your shoes which you forgot to

• you tried to sit up, suddenly feeling guilty

• "i got it...-" "Let me."

• you paused before laying back down, feeling a bit nervous at his tone of voice. Was he mad?

• "I'm sorry... it's just lately everything's been going downhill..."

• you mumbled, tears pricking your eyes as you let your emotions of the past week finally weigh you down

• "i c-can't seem to do anything right and...i can't muster up energy for anything...i.."

• you sniffled, waiting for a response. He didn’t reply, instead placing your shoes neatly to the side before standing up and sitting down next to you on the couch.

• "Hwa..."

• a tear rolled down your face as he wrapped his arms around you, resting your head beneath his chin.

• it was incredible how the warmth of his embrace contrasted the gloominess you've been feeling all week.

• "I'm not mad. Why would I be?"

• he spoke quietly, his eyes shutting for a moment, his hand tracing patterns on your back

• "and you know... people don't always have to be okay..."

• "if that were the case then, i think we'd be superhumans..."

• you let out a laugh at his words, feeling your heart lighten slightly

• "i guess..."

• he smiled at the pleasant sound, leaning back slightly to look at you, his hand moving to wipe your tears away.

• "so don't put yourself down, i won't let you."

• he whispered, his expression gentle yet firm before pulling you close again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

• "I'm still gonna worry though. Because I'm a human, a human who happened to be really really really in love with you."

• you chuckled, feeling exasperated yet so so light hearted

"Well, then...this human loves you too, a lot."

⋆˚࿔ Yunho.

• exams were coming up.

• and with exams came all nighters.

• you knew it wasn't healthy at all but your brain refused to listen to you, conjuring up various 'what ifs' each one, bleak.

• yes, exam seasons usually had you stressed.

• he knew it too.

• don't get him wrong, he knew you'd do well (with you being one of the most hardworking people he knows, there was no doubt about that)

• but he knew you couldn't help it. Despite all the assurances, a small part of you always doubted if your efforts were enough

• and he was worried. Of course, he was but he couldn't push you to take breaks even when he knew you needed it

• because he thought it'd be better to be distant than to have you completely shut him out

• but he wasn't sure anymore.

• even more so when he came upon you staring down at your books with teary eyes. You couldn't take it anymore.

• "I'm just so tired"

• you sobbed, burying your face into his chest. He had carried you to the bed from your desk, despite your protests but now you were glad that he did.

• "i know, love."

• he whispered, his hand rubbing your back soothingly, his heart clenching at the sound of your sobs. How could he have let it get this bad?

• but one thing was sure, he wasn't about to let you go through this alone.

• "Take a break, hm?" "But i...-"

• "No buts."

• he replied firmly, his expression showing his worry

• "Baby, it's admirable, it really is...you work so hard and I'm so proud of you..."

• "but I'm worried."

• he mumbled, his voice soft and low, tightening his hold on you

• your words faltered as you sensed the genuine concern in his voice, a twinge of guilt washing over you.

• "You always seem so tired and i...i can't help but feel frustrated for not being able to do anything..."

• his tone was soft, holding you close as if he feared losing you.

• "i don't want anything to happen to you..."

• you heart clenched at the tone of fear in his voice. you felt him lean back, taking your face into his hands carefully

• ”no matter how important it is, pushing yourself beyond the point of breaking will never do you any good.”

•he whispered, his voice quiet as he stroked your face gently

•you stayed silent for a moment, his words going through your mind. you could feel the toll these last few days had on your body. crashing out wouldn't be far at this point.

•so you nodded, reluctantly agreeing, not wanting to worry him any longer and also because you knew you needed this.

•he smiled, seeing you agree (although reluctant) relief coursing through him finally.

“Good. Now, how about some tea? I'll…let you get back to it after a break and this time, I'll help you.”

⋆˚࿔ Yeosang.

• something was wrong.

• he wasn't used to seeing you so...pensive.

• that slight slumping of your shoulders, the way you zone out mid-convos and the quiet sighs that escapes you whenever you think no one's looking

• no, he definitely noticed. It was so unlike you and...he wasn't sure how to react.

• would you be mad if he were to bring this up?

• or would you pretend like there was

nothing wrong?

• he knows that you value your independence very much, often preferring to deal with things on your own

• he respects that and doesn't push in anyway, not wanting to make you uncomfortable

• but he'd also feel a bit guilty (thought it was never his fault) feeling like he was failing as a boyfriend for just watching from the sidelines while you struggled

• though initially, he'd be a bit hesitant and cautious when approaching the matter

• he wouldn't directly confront you but lets you know that he's there for you

• "I'm here, if you want to talk."

• he'll also try to distract you with other activities, whether if it's like a walk in the park or a simply game

• he'll try his best to keep the atmosphere quiet and positive so you'll be able to relax your mind even if it's just a little

• and when you finally open up to him, he listens.

• he doesn't really respond in between and just lets you rant while listening intently

• and you know he is from the way his hand gently squeezes yours in assurance whenever you come to a pause, letting you know that whatever you were feeling was valid

• he isn't that big on physical affection but won't hesitate to shower you in it if you were to ask

• he's just a green flag over all

"I'll be here if you need me. I'll always be here."

⋆˚࿔ San.

• "come here."

• you hesitantly glanced at him before immediately looking away once you met his eyes. How does he know you so well?

• "choi y/n, come. here."

• he repeated, his tone a bit more firm now, spreading his arms wide and looking at you expectantly

• "what's with the choi?"

• you sighed, half-laughing, but you walked towards him, your emotions bubbling up again.

• "you own my heart, so you might as well take my last name too."

• he said softly with a small smile as you finally stepped into his arms.

• "seriously..."

• you mumbled, your voice breaking towards the end as you pressed your face into his chest, tears starting to flow again

• "there we go..."

• he guided you to the couch before sitting beside you. He wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you into him and gently ran his fingers through your hair, whispering.

• "you did a good job, hm? I'm so proud of you."

• "it doesn't feel like that though..."

• you laughed. his words, though comforting, stung a bit, reminding you of your failures yet again

• he frowned, picking upon on the hint of self depreciation in your tone

• "how dare you say that about the love of my life? Do you have any idea how much they mean to me?"

• he spoke, leaning back slightly to look at you, his hand reaching up to pinch your cheeks

• "what're you on about?"

• you chuckled, avoiding his hand, not knowing whether to be amused or exasperated at his sudden burst out

• "I'm serious, my love's the best, the smartest, the kindest, the most hardworking, the prettiest...the list goes on..."

• he continued, his voice firm as he made you face him, wiping your tears away

• "but you know what i like the most about them?"

• he asked, his expression softening considerably

• "they never give up. no matter how hard it gets, no matter what anyone else says, they never give up, because they know that they can get through it..."

• he stroked your face, his eyes never leaving yours, the genuineness in them halting your breath for a moment

• "I know you can..."

• you felt your heart tighten at his words, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. You hugged him again, tears forming again.

• "why do you always have to be so nice? I hate you..."

• you sobbed, though there was no real heat behind your words

• he chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly

"It's okay, in return, I have lots of love to give you..."

⋆˚࿔ Mingi.

• he knew that things have been rough for you lately

• while he was worried, he wasn't sure to how to bring it up without making you feel even worse

• so he had hoped you'd come to him first

• though nothing prepared him for the sight of you sobbing into your hands infront of him, when you did

• initially he was at a loss as to what to do (it's that T in him)

• but he could feel his heart breaking as he watched you desperately trying to wipe your tears away which seemed to be flowing endlessly at that moment

• instantly he pulled you into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you so tightly like he wanted to shield you from whatever that was hurting you

• "I'm sorry..."

• you weren't sure what he was apologising for and neither was he

• though he wasn't good with words in this situation, he was there for you

• and he hoped you'd know it too

"don't hold back your tears, just let it all out. I'm here."

⋆˚࿔ Wooyoung

• he’s been walking on eggshells the entire week and he wasn't sure how long he could he take it

• your obvious avoidance of him, the curt texts, (hell, he'd prefer it more if you argued with him than this) it was all getting ridiculous

• so, what was the next step? obviously, confronting you.

• though it wasn't going like how he expected it to go.

• ”I'm sorry, i thought it'd be better to avoid you than to let you get affected too”

• you mumbled, your voice a bit hoarse as you brought your blanket covering you, closer

• your face was red, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead as you supported yourself on the wall.

• these past few weeks had taken a toll on you, worse than you thought and before you knew it, you had a fever.

• ”Affect me-...are you serious?”

• he spoke before he could stop himself. really? that's what you've been worried about?

• “I've been worried sick! you think I'd care about some damn germs?”

• you fell silent, feeling a bit guilty now.

• he huffed as if he was in disbelief. he wanted to say more but paused, his eyes falling on your pale face

• he sighed before stepping in, his hands reaching for your face.

• “you're burning up…”

• he muttered, worry lacing his tone as he supported you, making sure to close the door before leading you to your living room, sitting you down on the couch

• you sniffled, rubbing your nose as you watched him bustle around your apartment

• it was weird, seeing him so serious like this, different from his usual playful self

• and it only made you more guilty for worrying him

• ”I'm sorry…”

• he paused, hearing your words, his movements slowing down as he closed the door to your shelf after retrieving the medicine

• “you know? these past few days, I was wondering whether I did something. I couldn't figure it out.”

• he spoke up, returning to the couch, kneeling infront of you, placing a hand on your lap

• “besides, what if you were in your death bed? of course i need to be here.”

• he added, a small smirk forming on his face

• “Hey!”

• you countered, your eyes wide, hitting his shoulder making him laugh out a small ‘sorry!’, lightening the mood slightly

• “no but seriously, you should've told me you were sick. i would've came running.”

• “you always take care of me when I'm sick. I want to do the same…”

• he muttered, his playfulness dissolving into softness, his hand squeezing yours gently

• you felt your heart melt at his words, warmth coursing through you, the pleasant kind this time.

• “Alright then, can you…make me your special chicken soup?”

• you asked, a hopeful glint in your eyes. you’ve been craving it actually.

• his smile returned even more brightly as he stood up, turning to make his way to your kitchen

“I'll make you the damn best chicken soup you're gonna ever have! You won't even need medicine cause it's gonna heal you up right away.”

⋆˚࿔ Jongho

• he knew you were having a rough week

• considering how moody you've seemed lately and you also didn't talk much

• and you were usually the 'affectionate' one in your relationship so the lack of it made him pause

• he was concerned, obviously, but didn't voice it directly or push you to open up

• he trusted that you'd come to him if there was something

• however, it seems like you finally reached your breaking point

• he regretted not talking to you sooner when he came home to you crying one day

• he immediately engulfs you into his embrace.

• you seemed a bit surprised to see him, not expecting him to come back so early

• and you felt bad to burden him with your emotions, surely he had a lot on his plate as well-

• "stupid, you should be worrying about yourself."

• he mumbled, his voice annoyed yet... concerned, pulling you closer when you tried to move away.

• he won't respond with words when you start to pour your worries out

• but you know he's listening with the gentle but assuring squeezes he gave your hand whenever you come to a pause

• well, it wasn't like he really had to talk when his embrace spoke volumes more than any words ever could.

“Don't feel bad for feeling bad, you don't always have to be okay, it's completely normal.”

688 notes · View notes

hamiltonells · 1 year ago

Text

ALWAYS ~ JUDE BELLINGHAM

[sort of based of this request! so thank you for request. please let me know what you think! always welcome to criticism, also let me know if you would like a series based or this little family! 🍓]

[SUMMARY: being soon to be parents is hard especially being so young as well, but Jude and y/n takes everything in their stride]

[WARNINGS: fluff, smut, morning sickness? not edited, swearing spelling mistakes? ]

You’re feet shuffled across the cold kitchen flooring as you soothed your bump with one hand and held a tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream in the other, Your seven -month bump slightly peaking out of Jude’s shirt.

“Are you still okay for tomorrow, beautiful?” Jude’s voice reaches out over the FaceTime call, as you sitback down on the sofa and put the blanket over your bump.

With Jude being in Madrid, it was decided that you would have dinner at his parents' house in England. Due to your frequent travels between England and Madrid, you rarely have the opportunity to spend time with his family, especially with his mother being in the middle.

you placed the laptop on your lap during the ongoing FaceTime call with Jude, “Yeah all good jude, what time is your flight back” your voice grew tired with every sentence you speak.

“flight is about four in the morning will get back home at seven”Jude's voice making you grow even more tired and relaxed.

You knew it was difficult for Jude to balance being at the top of the football world and being a father at just twenty years of age, but he never complained about it once

It was unexpected for you to become pregnant, and it came as a surprise since you are only nineteen and Jude is twenty years old, but you both took it as your little blessing.

"Is my little one okay? It seems like she's wearing Mommy out" Jude's voice echoes through the FaceTime call, "we're okay, just tired and the usual sickness," your voice tiredly drawls out.

Since discovering you were pregnant, you have been experiencing severe nausea, even if it was morning or night It felt like a constant battle to keep any food down, and the smell of certain foods would instantly trigger your gag reflex.

"Plus, we miss daddy a lot," you said "fuck,don't do that voice, it turns me on" he added with a rough accent, you tutted “better hurry up home then”

"I'll be back home shortly, my Love," he said in his gentle Birmingham accent.

you was sound asleep when you heard the keys jingle in the door, the door open and Jude's footsteps slowly and carefully plodding up the stairs.

You hear Jude carefully open the door to the bedroom where you both share. As you shuffle yourself up to sit against the headboard, you reach for the switch to switch on the lamp, and you switch it on.

"What are you doing awake?" Jude's tired voice broke the silence of the room. You turned to see him rubbing his eyes, looking disheveled and exhausted.

"I missed you, heard you trying to be quiet" you admitted "I'm sorry, I just didn't want to disturb you" he replied, a sheepish smile on his face.

"You could never disturb me. I always want to hear your voice." you said softly, Moving to swing your legs out of bed holding your pregnant belly as you trying to ignore the persistent pressure on your bladder.

You sigh, knowing you have to get out of bed to relieve yourself.

“oi what you doing, let me help” Jude’s voice fills your ears, as he rushes to be by your side, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around you, supporting your weight.

As he presses a soft kiss to your head, Your loving Jude gently helps you out of bed and guides you to the bathroom, making sure you don't trip over your own feet.

Once you’ve emptied your bladder, you get back into bed with a kiss on the cheek from Jude.

You snuggle into the bed sheets, Jude’s bare back now facing you as he’s rambling on about something with his toothbrush in his mouth, you don’t realise your eyes have started to close until you feel the bed dip beside you.

“Sorry baby, didn't mean to wake you again” Jude whispered as he pulled the duvet over the pair of you, with your back facing Jude he slides his arms around you and on to your bump.

"I love you and we both missed you," you murmur softly in response to him, you feel him snuggle into your neck as he presses a soft kiss there.

“hey Jobe”you slightly laugh out his name as he opens the door only to be thrown into a headlock by his own brother, the pair of them shuffling into the living room as they play fight with each other.

You shut the front door and clean your feet on the doormat before untying your shoelaces and removing your shoes.

You enter the living room and see the two brothers sitting on the sofa with a sour expression and Denise giving them a look.

"Y/n, lovely seeing you again” Denise greets you warmly as she glances up and sees you standing in the doorway “you look amazing, not long left now” she hugs you as you smile and look down, “thank you Denise” you gushed as you sat in between Jude and Jobe.

“only a couple more months left, did Jude show you the scan pictures” you continued.

"Yeah, he did," she replied with a smile. "They're amazing, aren't they? I can't believe how much the baby has grown already."

"I know, it's incredible," you said, excitement evident in your voice. "I can't wait to meet him or her."

"As long as they don't look like Jude, they will be alright" Jobe joked “You’re literally like a mini Jude, Jobe” You laughed as you put your hand onto Jude’s thigh.

“It's nice to know that I can actually grow a beard at the moment" Jude mumbles to himself, but loud enough so that Jobe can hear, "you call that a beard" Jobe laughs as he’s dodging Jude's kick.

As Denise calls all of you over for dinner, Jude gets up first to assist you up, putting one hand on your back as he guides you over to the dinner table, he sits next to you his hand on your thigh.

Mark, Jude’s dad is sat across from you, making slight conversation as you start eating your food.

As you took another bite of your food, your stomach churned you felt a wave of nausea wash over you, you reach out to take a sip of your water to hopefully wash it down.

But as the night went on, the feeling only got worse, your hand went straight over your mouth mumbling your apologies as you rush through the house to get to the bathroom.

He trails behind you, apologizing to his family before heading to the bathroom to assist you, gently rubbing circles on your back as you lean over the toilet, feeling him gather your hair up in his hands.

“you okay baby?” His voice soothing you, you lean back into him breathless as the embarrassment washes over you.

”Jude, I am deeply embarrassed. Your mother and your entire family are under the impression that I became sick because of the meal she cooked.“You convey your concern by covering your face with your hands.

“she doesn’t think that, don’t be stupid they know your struggling with your pregnancy” Jude tries to calm your down by wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you both sit in the bathroom floor.

“You okay y/n?” Denise’s worried voice makes you look up, as you see her standing in the doorway “she’s okay mum, bit tired though I think” Jude answers for you as he puts a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'll set up Jude's room for you both, and maybe it'll be best if you stay overnight, I'll bring some lemonade up to help it helped my morning sickness with Jobe" Denise smiles at you .

In a pair of shorts and an old shirt, you lay on the bed of Jude's old bedroom, covered in the familiar smell of his old clothes.

Jude is right next to you, scrolling through his phone on his lap with his hand on your inner thigh as he softly squeezes it, as he as he speaks with Jobe who is laying across the end of the bed, who is also scrolling on his phone.

"How much longer do you have left?" Jobe asks quietly as you open your eyes to his voice. "Just a little over a month, why are you excited, Uncle Jobe?" you playfully respond.

he just hums to your question, focusing back on whatever was on his phone.

The next thing you notice is Jude placing his phone on his bedside table, and then shuffles over and settles his head on your chest while his hands go straight to shirt to lift it up, his hands go to your bump to soothe it.

In your hands, you are gentle touching the ends of his hair gently twisting it and reaching to his scruffy beard gently scratching it as he hums softly to.

When he presses a soft kiss against your bump, your unborn baby gives him a small kick as they responds to his kisses

“Did you feel that?” Jude’s face snaps around to face you as he realizes what has happened “yeah, going to be like there daddy” you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“what? let me feel, move Jude” Jobe says as he rushes to your side and he places his own hand on your bump he pushes Jude's hands away as he presses his own against the bump.

“Jobe, fucking hell it's my kid.” Jude leans down for a for a kiss before getting up and making his way to the bathroom. You giggle as you see Jude's scrunched up face as he gets up and goes to the bathroom.

you’ve just gotten into bed when Jude come in with a glass of water and places it on your bedside table, “mum says goodnight” you hum to answer him while tugging him down to yourself.

"Careful," he laughs as he catches himself on his hands as he's above you, your hands go around his neck as you press a kiss to his lips.

His laughter fades into a soft sigh as he leans in for another kiss, his lips meeting yours once more before he puts his face into your neck and presses a few light kisses.

“You have a good day, baby?” He mumbles into the crook of your neck “the best thank j” you the nickname you call him slides off your tongue easily.

Jude hums“I love you so bloody much”

“I love you more” you giggle even more when be nips your neck.

He seals your lips together once more, using his knees to spread your thighs a bit further apart for him as he spreads them apart.

In the midst of your kiss, he lets out a breathy moan, courtesy of the fingers which are holding his face, interrupting your kiss with a breathy moan.

Jude utilizes the chance to break away and snag a pillow from his side of the bed, urging your hips up by tapping the fluffy thing against your side.

your lift your back up, and he settles it under your lower back and bum to prop you up. Fortunately for him, he has had extensive experience navigating the challenges of your pregnant belly.

he grips your shorts and carefully pulls them off, taking your knickers off and softly pressing a kiss to your thigh in the progress.

Settling between your thighs, Jude giggles when you wraps your legs around his hips and tugs him closer.

Jude’s body hovers over yours , love-sick smiles a breath away from meeting each other, and he drags his fingers through your folds, groaning at how slick you’ve become.

“Oh fuck” you whisper into Jude’s ear, biting back a grin as Jude grips his cock with the fingers that had previously been fondling you.

Jude smiles as their chests are pressed together, enjoying the feeling of their stomachs touching while he guides himself into your slit.

Jude hums appreciatively, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in how warm and gooey you are for him. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to have you this desperate for him and his touch.

“Need to be quiet, Jobe next door” he whispered as a moan ripped though your body.

"Oh it's so good darling," he mumbles to you, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. He made a gentle backward slip, pulling the hips back gently as he slipped forward again, his breath stuttering as he dutifully slipped forward once again.

Guiding him, you softly release a moan, lowering one hand to the lower part of his back. With a whisper that tickles his ear, you affirm, "Jude, So so good." Tickled by the sensation, he squirms slightly and responds with a small laugh.

Jude soft with his movements, cautious of the baby between yourself, "made for being wrapped me huh?" And jude thinks nothing ever been truer.

Your arms were made to hold him, youe hands were made for pulling him closer and closer, and your heart was made to completely consume his.

you reached your high before him, rolling your hips up to try and bring him to the edge, grinding down into your heat as his cock twitches and buries deep in your walls.

Jude knows you’re watching his eyes scrunch shut and his gaping mouth curl into a breathy laugh as he comes “sorry baby, too tired for another one” he breathes into your neck.

As you nod and brush the sweaty spots from his forehead to soothe him and just like that, he is already able to feel lighter. He never has to sorry with you, you’ll always be here for him.

#jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent x reader #football one shot #football imagine #trent alexander arnold #max verstappen x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x you #lewishamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #smut

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jazziejax · 9 days ago

Text

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Adonis Creed x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - A quiet visit to a legendary gym turns into something much louder than expected.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Violence, Strong Language, Adult Themes, Mentions of Grief/Loss

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I said I wanted to write one so I did…sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes!!!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 9,134+

No matter where she looked, it was all consuming her. On her phone, there was countless of headlines.

“Tennis Diva or Just Competitive? Chantal “Fury” Figueroa Blows Up Again on Court!”

“Foul Mouth, Fast Hands: Fury’s Fiery Win Over Davenport Sparks Controversy”

“Fury’s Blaze of Glory or Blaze of Shame?—Tennis’s Most Explosive Star Under Fire Once More!”

“Amy Davenport Says She Felt ‘Unsafe’ On the Court with Chantal Figueroa”

“Chantal Figueroa Accused of Cheating, Trash-Talking, and ‘Unsportsmanlike Behavior’”

She clicked on her television, and there were pictures of her face on the news as they painted her out to be some monster.

On ESPN. “She’s electric, no doubt. But there’s a difference between passion and outright aggression, and Fury? She crossed it.”

On The View. “Look, I love Chantal, but she’s gotta rein it in. You can’t scream at the ump, curse out a ball girl, and still expect sympathy!”

Even Amy Davenport post match interview. She sat so demurely, dressed in a baby blue get up, gleaming under studio lights in the conference room. “She’s talented, I’ll give her that. But talent isn’t everything. You have to have grace. You have to have sportsmanship. I didn’t feel safe out there. I mean—she called me a ‘prissy bitch with no footwork’ in the middle of a serve!” Then there was a muted clip of Chantal on the court, mouth clearly forming ‘Are you new to fucking walking?’ Amy then let out a soft laugh. “I’m worried for her. That kind of temper? It’ll end her career.”

And then before she could even think about it, the remote control was out of her hand and a picture frame had been broken on the other side of the room. The sound of the television was faint, but it felt like it was blaring in her mind. She sat back against leather couch, chest heaving up and down in anger as she sat in the deafening silence after the shattering glass.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

Next thing she knew after her angered waned, were studio lights that were too bright, too white, and too artificial to feel anything like a fair conversation rather an interrogation, gleaned down on her.

Chantal sat center stage, perched on a sterile white couch in ESPN’s New York studio, the makeup crew long gone, her glossy lips lined, her signature slicked-back ponytail broadcast-ready and her heels dug into the floor like stakes in the ground. She wore a light blue top that, a traditional Asian pattering on it, with black slacks.

Tashi stood just off-camera, arms folded, watching like a hawk with her mouth in a thin, unreadable, line. Her manager, Quentin, flitted between texts and pacing, whispering too-late reassurances.

“This is good press.” He’d said on the car ride over. “A reset. A rebrand. Let people see the real you.” Be explained, sort of rambling off to himself as he stressed over the woman’s image. “You go in there, keep your cool, answer with grace. Make them regret ever doubting you.”

Chantal had looked out the window the whole ride, jaw clenched. “They’ll see what they want to see and damn way.” And that was pretty much all she said back then, just gave a sharp nod and was silent the rest of the way.

Now, she regretted even showing up.

It wasn’t long before the hosts flanked her like opponents on either side. Marcus Dean on her right—a former football player now turned talking head who liked to stir the pot for likes. Loud, smug, always the first to turn heat into headlines. And on her left, Dana Mallory—sharp, polished, and known for her thinly-veiled contempt toward athletes who didn’t play by rules set in place by anyone but themselves. She was cold, pristine. Known for interviews that tore reputations limb from limb behind soft tones and weaponized words, and loved controversial male athletes.

The show went live. Theme music. Camera pans. Intro banter.

Then the two hosts turned to her—smiling like snakes.

Dana tossed her blonde bob over her shoulder as she crossed her legs and smiled without warmth. “Chantal, thank you for being here. After everything that’s happened this past week, the world has a lot of questions.” The pale woman began.

“Yeah, it’s been a week.” The woman answered back in a sort of dull tone with a polite smile on her lips.

Dana gave a brittle laugh. “Yes, and I think the world is eager to hear from you directly—especially after your behavior during and after the Davenport match.”

Chantal raised a brow. “You mean my win?”

Dana’s smile widened, fake as gold foil. “I mean, let’s call it what it is. Some say you’re the most talented player the game’s seen in years. Others… say your temper might end your career before you reach your prime. That you’re heated. Hostile. Many people said that your supposed win looked more like a meltdown than a victory.”

Chantal’s fingers twitched. “Funny. When McEnroe did it, it was called passion by many.”

“Oh, so we’re playing the double standard card already?” Marcus chuckled, leaned back in his chair as he adjusted his gold watch, the silver contrasting against his brown skin. “Come on, Fury.”

“My name’s Chantal.”

“You shouted at the ump, smashed a racquet, refused to shake Amy’s hand. That’s not exactly sportsmanship.”

“I shook her hand. It just wasn’t fake.” Chantal said finely, brows beginning to furrow as lies began to spew from the man’s mouth, though the racquet smashing was true.

“Some would call it aggressive,” Dana said smoothly. “Especially when Amy came forward saying she felt… intimidated by you. Unsafe, even.”

Chantal sat back, looking over at the woman as if she just said something stupid. “Because I told her to stop making excuses? I’m not the one to put up with the dramatics, that’s for other people to deal with if it’s such an issue and then it comes to me.”

Dana’s smile widened, razor-thin. “You’ve been fined three times this season for on-court outbursts, suspended once, and now you’re being investigated by the WTA. Doesn’t that suggest a pattern?”

Chantal’s fingers twitched as a smirk graced her lips, one out of catching the woman in her lie. “First of all, I have never been suspended. Not once in my entire career. And this “investigation”, if you can even call it that. It was more so a meeting, it only opened up due to this entire debacle started by Davenport. So, no, I don’t think it suggests a pattern, I think it suggests the rules bend differently when you don’t come in a dainty form and a losing streak.” She shrugged, and she could feel the hard stares from her couch and manager as she answered the questions. But Chantal was never the one to lie when it came to questions, and she wasn’t going to start now that people felt reheated by it.

Marcus chuckled. “So now the system’s the villain?”

“You tell me.” She demanded the man. “When Novak screams at line judges, he’s ‘fired up.’ When I do it, I’m a ‘danger to the sport.’ Some may find that amusing.” It was silent for a moment, the two hosts either moving the reactions they were getting from her or simply stunned, but Chantal used that time to continue.

“I won the Davenport match.” She interrupted sharply. “I didn’t cheat. I didn’t hurt anybody. I talked trash—just like Amy did. You can see it when we shake hands before the match. Difference is, I didn’t go cry to a microphone afterwards, I talked back.” She spat.

Dana’s eyes glittered. She’d gotten blood in the water.

“But Amy said she felt unsafe.”

“And I felt undermined.”

“Because someone finally called out your behavior?”

Quentin shifted uncomfortably while Tashi’s jaw tightened. She bit on her lips, her stare hard as she watched from behind the cameras.

Chantal tilted her head, slow and deliberate. “What behavior are we talking about?” She questioned, turning her face up. “Me speaking up? Me refusing to smile pretty and take the hits? Or me winning when I’m not “supposed to”?” She questioned.

Dana blinked, licking her lips as she whistled herself in her seat, causing Marcus leaned forward to add onto the questions. “You don’t think your attitude’s part of the problem?”

“My attitude is why I’m still here. My attitude is why I win, and why I won that match. And I’m not apologizing for being intense in a sport that demands it. Y’all like the fire and the fury until a Black woman’s holding the match.”

A few producers backstage froze and there were soft gasps throughout the studio. Dana’s brow arched as if she was offended at such a claim while Marcus smirked. “Whew. You hear that, Twitter?” He grinned, looking at the cameras. Chantal looked over at him with a hard stature before simply scoffing and lightly shaking her head.

Dana’s voice dropped lower as it turned honeyed and sharp. “You know, I spoke to a few former coaches of yours. They described you as ‘difficult,’ ‘combative,’ and ‘emotionally volatile.’ Would you say that’s fair?”

The camera zoomed in on Chantal’s face as she blinked, aiding as she took in the question. “I’d say most of my former coaches couldn’t keep up with me. And the rest wanted to coach a puppet, not a player. It’s why I now have someone more my speed, the Tashi Duncan.” She explained.

Dana tilted her head. “Or maybe they just wanted someone coachable. Someone who didn’t see every correction as an attack.” She rebutted. “And Tashi Duncan has had her fair share of issues in her own career. Do you really think she’s the best for you right now?”

Marcus whistled low before Chantal could even answer, amusement clear on his face. “Whew. See, that’s the issue right there. People are rooting for you, Chantal—but you make it hard.” He said, faking a sympathetic tone.

Chantal laughed, sharp and humorless as she just became tried of even being there. “No, you’re rooting for a version of me that doesn’t exist. The quiet, grateful, humble little phenom. But I’m not here to bow down or beg. I’m here to win and I’ve been doing it since I was sixteen.”

Dana arched a brow. “Even if you burn every bridge on the way there?”

“I don’t need your bridges. I’ve got a racquet and a forehand. That’s all I need for this game, that’s all there ever was.”

There was a small moment of silence, as if evening in the tense air was trying to digest what she truly said. “Sounds lonely.” Dana murmured.

And something snapped in Chantal’s throat. “You think I care what sounds lonely? You think I want to sit here and play PR puppet because Amy Davenport cried on a mic? I’m not here to fix your image of me. I’m not here to make people comfortable.”

“Do you ever worry that this—this fuse, this refusal to own your part—is going to keep making you the villain in everyone else’s highlight reel?”

There it was. The bait. That villain word.

And for one long, boiling second, Chantal didn’t breathe.

It was dead air.

Producers flinched behind the camera. Tashi tensed as she pursed her lips and braced for the worse as Quentin let out a low groan.

Then she spoke. “I’d rather be the villain than the victim.”

Dana smiled like she’d just landed the final blow, the studio still enclosed in slice as she straightened her cards against the glass table top. “Thanks for your time, Chantal.”

Chantal didn’t respond. She stood up, ripped the mic off her shirt, and walked off without another word.

Then it cut to commercial.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The studio doors hadn’t even finished swinging shut behind her when the first flash went off. Paparazzi crowded the sidewalk like a pack of hungry dogs. Some wore press badges. Most didn’t. All of them shouted.

“CHANTAL, IS IT TRUE YOU THREATENED AMY DAVENPORT?”

“IS ESPN GOING TO BAN YOU?”

“IS IT TRUE THAT YOU’RE BEING INVESTIGATED BY THE WTA?”

Then a man with a Canon camera lunged toward her as she was about to enter the black SUV. “ARE YOU ON STEROIDS?!”

She pushed past them, her stride clipped and narrow. The way she furrowed her brow at that behind her sunglasses was visible to the cameras, her face counting into one of disgust and anger at the claim. Tashi and Quentin tried to flank her, but it was no use—there were too many. Too loud. Too vicious.

Another voice screamed, “SHE’S GOT ANGER ISSUES! IT HAS TO BE ON STEROIDS.“

Then came the flash. A blinding one. Inches from her face.

She stopped. “Back up.” She hissed, poring a finger that the man. But he didn’t move. She could feel the heat behind her eyes, the pounding in her throat. Her pulse buzzed like a live wire as the sounds behind her became mudded and overwhelming but the flashes kept hitting her and the camera moved closer—far too close.

And then—

She pushed.

A firm, instinctive shove to the chest as she pushed the camera from her face with her other hand, not hard enough to knock him down but enough to make him stumble back two feet.

A dozen shutters clicked.

The moment was captured. Frozen. Ruined.

She turned and disappeared into the black SUV waiting at the curb, slamming the door behind her.

Inside, Quentin swore under his breath. Tashi didn’t say anything, just leaned forward, her voice low.

“Now it’s gonna get worse.”

All while Chantal sat, leaned back into the seat with slightly irregular breathing, her head beginning to hurt as her eyes trained outside at the passing city of New York.

The moment floods every social platform. Clips circulate not just from the shove—but from the ESPN interview.

“I’m not here to make people comfortable.”

“I don’t need your bridges.”

“I’m not here to fix your image of me.”

Hashtags trend. Memes explode. People choose sides.

Amy Davenport posts an Instagram story the next morning, nothing but a black screen with white words.

“I just want the game to feel safe again.” And the media eats it up.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

Chantal sits alone in her hotel room. No lights. No sound. Just a quiet rage, eating her from the inside.

She only blinks before she’s on the court, breathing heavy as the sun beamed down on her. The only sound she could hear before her breathing was the soothing sound of bird chirping. She absolutely loved that. It was rare in the big city of New York, but it was a gem to hear in New Rochelle. She whiffed before moving to the locker room, that reeked of sweat, disinfectant, and tension. Chantal sat still, her fist pressed against the cold metal bench, her racquet still clenched in the other hand like a weapon.

Her long-sleeved black Nike top clung to her, streaked with red clay and rage. Her curls were pulled back into a tightly-wound ponytail, strands falling out like they, too, were sick of containment.

Tashi stood in the doorway, arms crossed, chewing gum with a tense jaw.“You’re not gonna break your racket, are you?” Tashi asked, voice casual, one brow raised.

Chantal cut her eyes to the woman, a sharp and deadly look in her eyes as she steadied her breathing. “Funny.” She deadpanned.

And Tashi smirked. “Davenport’s been playin’ the media like a fiddle since she was twelve.” She begun, knowing what the woman was pissed and overthinking this situation everyone she got quiet. She’s been pissed about it for days now. “Let her. You won. That’s all that should matter.”

Chantal let out a sigh as she dropped the racquet. It clanged against the tiled floor. “But it doesn’t.” She said. “All anyone’s talking about is how I yelled. How I stomped. How I said something mean. Who gives a fuck?!”

“You called her a lousy bitch.”

“She is!” Chantal yelled, standing up from her seat, fire in her eyes as she looked at the woman. “She’s a lousy bitch who’s been getting away with micro aggression for far too fucking long. Every time we shake hands, it’s always some stupid and sick ass comment. The bitch is lousy and that’s why when we make it the championships. Dumb broad can’t even make it to Wimbledon.” She grumbled

And Tashi laughed once, sharp and short, slightly amused by her comments.

“Look, you want to be great, right?” Tashi moved closer, her coach’s eyes scanning Chantal. “Then we need to work on your mental game. The power’s there. But the fuse is short. You gotta figure out why.”

Chantal looked up. “You offering therapy or something? Cause I’m not doing it.”

“No.” Tashi said, grabbing her bag. “But I know something that might help. A place out in Las Angeles. I know something about pressure, and I know some people who can relate as well. Especially to you. And I think you need a vacation retreat before Wimbledon.”

Chantal paused briefly, blinking as she looked down at her hands in thought. Her mind flashed between everything that’s been going on, from her matches to the Amy drama, to the ESPN clips, to the new steroids accusations to simply not having a single soul in her fucking corner. Maybe she needed a break, maybe she needed sometime to…do nothing. Anything to take her mind off what’s been going on…or something besides tennis.

I’ll never do something besides tennis. She quickly thought.

She then let out a sharp sigh before stiffly nodding her head. “Yeah.”

“What?” Tashi asked. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Chantal said, picking up her racquet before rising. “I’ll go to L.A.”

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬

The sun in L.A. was a different. Almost artificial and arrogant. To Chantal at least.

It shined with no blocking buildings as it just dared you to look at it head on. Even the breeze had a bite. Everything about the city felt too loud, too glossy, too teeth-whitened and crystal-infused. And fake. And this is coming from a woman from now gentrified Harlem.

But she couldn’t deny how beautiful the city was. And he shared admitting that.

She stepped out of the car, aviators pulled low on her nose, lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line. A week ago she was elbowing cameras in midtown traffic. Now she was standing outside a modern California home nestled somewhere between Bel Air and some other city. She actually wasn’t even quite sure if she was in Bel-Air honestly, that’s just the only place she knows.

The home was nice, tall with nice architecture and beautiful greenery. A bit bougie in a way, but one that Chantal like. It looked very homey. The birds chirped, just like in New Rochelle, but these ones sounded like they’d ate healthier with how loud they were, and how many she saw pass across the sky.

“Kill me now.” She muttered, slamming the car door behind her.

Tashi was already waiting inside the foyer of the home, dressed in leggings and an athletic shirt, sipping something green through a bamboo straw. “Welcome to The Resting Ground.” She grinned, all fake serenity as she held her arms out to gesture to the home. “Your chakras are gonna love it here or whatever.”

“I don’t know what that is.”Chantal told her in a deadpan, standing stiff as her eyes drifted over the cozy looking home that looked quite lived in. But she knew this couldn’t be Tashi’s home, so whose was it.

Tashi just let out an awkward laugh before clapping her hands. “Right.” She mumbled. “Well come on. You’ll like it once you stop being allergic to peace.” She said, gesturing the woman between the set of stairs that split into two grand stair cases on the opposite sides of the foyer.

Chantal followed her through the place though hone, it still had that pseudo retreat feeling—zen garden table, koi pond in a fountain outside. The house seemed empty save the two women. And as Chantal followed the woman through the home, passing the kitchen, she was confused on what she was even doing here anymore.

“So, whose house is this.” She said, cutting right to it.

“One of mine.” Tashi said, only sparing her a single glance over her shoulder as she responded. Chantal just raised a brow at that but nodded. She then faced outside, seeing nothing but a nice green yard with a pond in the back.

“No court?” She asked, tearing her eyes away from the patio doors just when they cut off and the women entered a hall.

“Nope.” Tashi sighed. “Cause that’s not what this home is for. Trust me, I learned relaxation the hard way.” She mumbled.

And now Chantal hated all of it.

They got to the room in the hall, to her right but not far from the kitchen. It was a sun-drenched room with floor-to-ceiling windows, giving the perfect view of the back yard. There was a large bed in the center of the room, with nice dark wood detailing as the base and bead board, with matching nightstands. Which there was a tray of fresh fruit sitting on, like an apology of sorts.

Chantal threw her bag on the floor and stood stiffly in the middle of the room, like the floor was lava. “Let me guess, there’s no gym either?” She asked, moving over and picking up a piece of pineapple, tossing it back.

“No, there isn’t. Not the kind you’re thinking of.”

She whipped her head around. “So what the hell am I supposed to do here?”

“Not punch someone.” Tashi replied, peeling a slice of mango from the tray and popping it into her mouth. “You’ll be here alone, but I’ll come by and take you out to experience some calming things. Maybe meet some more people like you. Athletes. High performers. Folks who’ve been through the wringer. But for now? Just… rest. Try to. Find a hobby, sit with your woke thoughts and not cloud your mind by working out.” She explained.

Chantal stared out the window. Trees swayed in the wind. A butterfly floated by. She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“What if I don’t know how to relax?” She asked, and Tashi glanced at her when she caught how soft her tone was, it was gentle. Like she was…scared, almost.

“Then you’ll learn.” Tashi said gently. “You’re not here to win anything, Chantal. You’re here to learn how to stay in the game without letting it eat you alive.”

Chantal didn’t respond. She just nodded once, slowly, like she’d just been handed something she wasn’t sure she could hold.

Tashi left with a light pat on her shoulder, telling her ahead had to get back home and coach Art. And then she was alone.

Alone with quiet. With herself. With too many thoughts. With nothing to fight.

She sat on the edge of the bed for ten minutes before standing up again. Paced. Looked through the closet. Turned on the shower. Turned it off.

She finally settled on the balcony, knees pulled to her chest, watching the sun melt behind the hills. It was stupid how perfect the sky looked.

Still, for the first time in days, she let herself breathe. Not the kind she used for control. But a kind of…relief?

A hummingbird darted past her head. And surprisingly, she didn’t flinch. Not even once.

But trust, this calm didn’t last long.

The quiet, against all odds, had started to settle around her like a weighted blanket. Chantal remained on the balcony well after the sky blushed itself into twilight, until the soft hues dimmed into a navy blue curtain speckled with stars she rarely saw back home. A plane blinked across the sky. The wind cooled. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t pulling her hoodie over her head or checking her phone for the next match, meeting, or press circuit.

Eventually, the fatigue she’d been ignoring for weeks—months even—caught up to her. She didn’t cry or make a scene. She simply peeled herself off the balcony chair, brushed her teeth in the cozy bathroom, and climbed into bed like someone giving in rather than surrendering.

To her surprise, she slept, and she slept well.

So when her alarm pierced the morning at 6:00 a.m. sharp, she was already stirring.

No snooze button. No groan. No delay.

She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, swung her legs over the bed, and stood with the same silent command she brought to the court. Her hands moved automatically, reaching for the stretch band tucked inside her duffle, tying her braids tighter as she padded to the bathroom. Her joints popped. Her face looked less tired.

Though she was in a different home, she fell into routine like any other time.

She started with stretches, slow but intentional, letting each vertebra crackle back to life. Then bodyweight circuits. Squats, planks, push-ups, all in the middle of the room while the sunlight poured in from the linen curtains she pulled back earlier. The sports bra she slept in stuck to her skin by the end of it, her breath even but measured. She flowed through the movements like choreography. It kept her mind quiet.

Next came breakfast, and she used the things available within the home. Oats with flaxseed and almond milk, topped with banana slices and chia seeds. She found everything she needed in the kitchen, her brow slightly raised at how well-stocked it was for a place supposedly about “rest.” Coffee with three creamers and four sugar cubes and a protein shake on standby. She ate standing up, scrolling through her phone, and the first thing she did was check her emails.

There were a few from her manager, some promo requests, one PR notice reminding her of an event she’d since skipped out on. She fired back quick responses between spoonfuls, paused only to rotate her shoulder.

Then she showered, and came out of the bathroom dressed in black leggings, cropped white tank, and a black hoodie covering her form. Her blue duffel bag was back over her shoulder. Her braids braided into one at the back of her head, edges laid. Phone charged. Water bottle filled.

She was out the door before 7:15.

And that’s when it hit her.

She stood on the porch, blinking at the serene, unfamiliar neighborhood. No honking horns, no bustling sidewalks, no traffic noise. No corner bodega. No subway station. Just sunshine, kids laughing and sprinklers running.

No gym in sight

And also no car.

Her brows pulled together in disbelief as she turned in place, then back toward the house with an annoyed sigh escaping her lips.

“This is ridiculous.” She grumbled, closing the heavy wooden door behind her. When she stepped back inside, ready to text Tashi something foul, she caught a glint of silver in the entryway. A keyring, hanging on a hook near the door.

Attached to it, a folded note in Tashi’s slanted script:

“Figured I couldn’t leave you stranded. Though I was going to. - T”

Chantal snorted in amusement. “Yeah, whatever.” She grumbled, balling the paper up and tossing it.

She grabbed the keys without hesitation and followed the logical next step, which was the garage. The motion sensor lights flickered on as the door rose slowly, revealing what had to be some kind of sick joke.

A pastel yellow Volkswagen Beetle sat parked squarely in the middle.

Chantal just stared at it, blinking once.

Then twice.

Then she muttered. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” In a small hiss. This was far change from her sleek black Porsche.

It looked like something a sorority girl in Malibu would drive. Round edges on it’s vintage body. Like it belonged in some feel-good teen movie about summer and surfboards and an endless supply of ice cream.

Her lips parted in a dry, unimpressed scoff. But still, she hit the unlock button, and the lights blinked in reply, customized with hearts on them. This caused her to furrow her brows more, wondering whose car this really belonged to, because no way was it Tashi Donaldsons.

Chantal opened the door, ducked into the Beetle, tossed her bag in the passenger seat, and sat there for a second.

Then she pulled her phone out and typed “nearest gym” into her GPS. A handful of results populated. She picked furthest one and hit Go.

With a low grumble, the car sputtered to life. “Don’t stall on me.” She warned it like it was an opponent.

Then Chantal Figeruoa—New York-born, Bronx-trained, nationally ranked tennis star—backed the pastel yellow Volkswagen Beetle out of the garage like she’d done it every day of her life, pulled out onto the unfamiliar California road, and followed the calm voice of her GPS toward somewhere she could finally sweat again.

She drove to a Planet Fitness, parking in the lot. But as she stepped out, her eyes caught a mural across the street—a painting of the infamous Apollo Creed on the side of a building. And she immediately knew what it was, and it hit her like a punch to the chest. It was the Delphi Boxing Academy. The sight stirred something in her. Even though she was parked at the Planet Fitness, she didn’t even think before she walked across the street to the boxing gym. It called to her in a way she couldn’t explain.

The gym door creaked open, letting in a sliver of midday sun—and her.

She stepped inside, looking around in slight shock as her eyes moved across the gym. The sound of grunts and hits echoed throughout the place, people making hit after heat over the sound of rap music coming from the speakers. The familiar scent of sweat, leather, and chalk hit her all at once, oddly comforting, like stepping into a memory. She moved toward the front desk, where a young man—couldn’t have been more than nineteen—looked up from his phone. His face froze.

“Hi,” She said, a small smile and a polite tone. “I was wondering if I could get a day pass? I’ll, uh, I’ll pay whatever you need.” She shrugged, feeling a bit awkward being in a place like this again. The kid blinked hard, his jaw tightening as he registered who she was. He tried—truly tried—to play it cool, but the awe leaked through the cracks in his expression. “Uh… nah. You’re good. On the house.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, unsure. “You sure?”

He nodded, grinning a little too wide now. “Yeah. It’s cool. Really.” He nodded.

She murmured a soft thank you with a sort of bashful smile and stepped past the counter, feeling his eyes trail her as she walked deeper into the gym. That always happened—people staring, recognizing her, whispers. She never got used to it.

She was awkward. That’s what she truly was, and it’s what people used to call her when they saw her in public. The people from her neighborhood. Even Mando used to say it to her. Now she was standoffish. Aggressive. But the truth was far more simple. She was just a girl once—thrust into a spotlight she never asked for, alone and scared, and she wore that cold demeanor as armor. It was survival for a world that she knew was gonna chew her up and spit her out.

She made her way towards of the corners of the gym, where the lighting was a bit brighter since she was next to the large floor to ceiling windows. The position gave her a clean view of the ring, where two women were sparring with quick hands and tighter footwork. She watched them for a moment, appreciating the rhythm, the discipline, and the grit it took to show up and give everything.

She dropped her duffel bag onto the floor and sat beside it, stretching her legs and cracking her knuckles. Her eyes drifted toward the heavy bag hanging nearby. For a moment, she just stared. It had been nearly fifteen years. Fifteen years since Armando passed. Since she had last thrown a punch with purpose.

And now, here she was.

In a place they had talked about visiting together. A place where Apollo Creed himself once trained.

She stood and moved toward the bag, shaking out her arms. Her hoodie came off slowly, revealing toned arms and a tank that clung to her frame. No gloves. No wraps. Just her bare fists. She stood in front of the sandbag, drew in a breath, and let loose.

The first few punches were rusty—more force than form. But then came rhythm. Sharp jab. Another. Left hook. Right cross. The sound of her fists slamming against the bag echoed through the space like gunshots. Her breath grew heavier. Her body moved faster. Every hit carried something—anger, grief, longing, the ache of time lost.

She didn’t notice the people watching, not at first. She didn’t hear the slow hush of the gym as others paused to look. She didn’t feel the weight of the eyes until her chest heaved too hard, and her focus slipped for half a second. She stepped back, letting her hands fall. Sweat beaded along her brow as she reached for her duffel, pulling out a bottle of water.

She twisted the cap and was about to drink—

And then she saw half the gym was looking. Watching her.

They looked away quickly when she stared back—heads turned, eyes dropped, everyone pretending they weren’t caught. So, she took a long sip of her water, unbothered on the outside, but her pulse still quick, from the hitting and the unwanted eyes.

That’s when he approached. A tall man in his about his fifties, thin build with a beard peppered with gray. His walk had a natural authority to it—like someone who’d spent years on the floor, reading fighters the way others read books. “Name’s Duke.” He said, holding out a hand. “I run things around here.” Chantal let out a huff before she reached and shook his hand. Firm grip. No smile.

“You hit like someone who’s been doing this in for a while.” He said. “Got good form, too. You want some gloves?”

She hesitated. A flicker of something in her eyes—nostalgia, maybe. Or pain.

“Nah,…Nah, I think I’m good.” She said. Her voice trailed off, and she seemed to want to say more the way her mouth opened, but she just shook her head again and looked down.

He nodded at that. “Alright. How about just some wraps then? Least you won’t tear your knuckles up.” He suggested.

She didn’t answer right away, looking down at her raw, reddened hands. She clenched her hands, her knuckles on the verge of tearing as her skin thinned and her blood rushed to the surface. Then, finally, she reasoned with a small nod. “Wraps are fine.” She said, looking up at him.

Duke nodded before he walked off to grab them, and she exhaled, flexing her fingers slowly. It had started as a visit. Just a place to remember the man she lost long ago. Duke then returned with a roll of fresh wraps in hand, nodding for her to sit on the bench nearby. She dropped down, stretching her arms out as he knelt in front of her, unrolling the fabric with a casual ease that came from years of practice. “You’re heavy with the hands.” He said as he started wrapping her right hand, careful not to pull too tight across the knuckles. “Gotta say, you hit like someone who used to do this for real.”

She didn’t say anything at first, just watched his hands move. Efficient. Steady. “I was good once, I guess.” She finally muttered with a lazy shrug. At least, that’s what he used to say. She thought.

Duke chuckled under his breath, glancing up at her. “Yeah. But I know boxings not your thing.” He stated. “I’ve seen you before.” He added. Chantal’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t stop him. “Thought you might.” She mumbled. He nodded, focusing back on her wrist, though he caught sign of how tense she’d became. “Didn’t mean to make it weird. Just—lotta folks come in here trying to prove something. You walk in and nearly knock the bag off the chain, no gloves, no warm-up. Impressive. Got the heart of someone remembering a lot.”

She gave a quiet snort, but it wasn’t unkind. “Something like that.”

He moved to her left hand, checking the spacing between her fingers before looping the wrap again. “So what brings you in today? Felt like hitting somethin’ or someone call you in?” He asked.

Her eyes flicked toward the massive mural of Apollo Creed painted on the gym’s window. “The mural, actually. I was parked at a Planet Fitness across the street. Saw that painting and… couldn’t ignore it.” She said softly, causing Duke to nod thoughtfully. “That’s how we get most people.” He said with a small smile. “Apollo’s still pulling them in, even years after. Gym’s been here a minute. You ever train here before?”

“No. Always..wanted to.” She hesitated. “Someone I knew—he wanted to bring me here. Mentor, long time ago.”

Duke glanced up at her again, something softer in his expression now. “Sounds like he was important.”

Chantal nodded, her eyes distant. “He taught me how to fight. How to survive.” Silence settled between them for a moment as Duke finished the last loop and secured the wrap.

“Well,” He said, giving her hand a light pat as he rose to his feet, “You’re wrapped and ready. Should hold up fine if you go at that bag the way you were earlier.” He said, giving the air some lady jab, causing Chantal to let out a small chuckle. She then flexed her fingers experimentally, nodding once in approval.

“Thanks.” She said quietly as she stood up from the bench.

“Anytime. And hey—if you feel like sparring, or if you want a trainer while you’re here, let me know. No pressure.”

She gave him a faint smile, small but real. “I might.” And her response let him know that she was just like that, short and simple answers to pretty much anything he had to say. She was naturally guarded. Duke smiled back at her. “No rush. This place’ll be here when you’re ready to decide.”

And with that, he left her alone with her thoughts, nothing but her and the bag.

Chantal let out a long sigh as she slipped her headphones back over her ears, the booming hum of bass surging into her bloodstream like a familiar drug before 50 cents voice came through. She returned to the bag without another word, rolling her shoulders loose before stepping into her stance. With her hands freshly wrapped, she moved with more purpose now—her jabs crisp, her footwork light and coiled, like a spring constantly threatening to snap. She danced around the bag like a pro, ducking and weaving, throwing uppercuts at shadows only she could see, landing clean three-piece combos like muscle memory had never left her.

She was in the zone. Locked in. Each hit a purge. Each hiss of breath through her clenched teeth a release. Every strike whispered of the lessons Armando Fuentes has taught her. Of The Bronx, of long nights with nothing but a jump rope and cold gym lights. She didn’t care who was watching. Didn’t even notice she was being watched.

But someone was.

In the ring, Sandra Alvarez—five-time world champion, undefeated, and cocky as ever—was barking at her sparring partner, who’d just taken a knee.

“Get up!” Sandra snapped, frustration boiling off her. “You’re weak! I don’t need this! I need a challenge, not a fucking warm-up!”

Her coach tried to say something, but she waved him off and turned at the sharp sound of fists and hisses echoing from the back of the gym. That’s when she saw her.

Chantal, in black leggings and a fitted tee, moving like the bag had personally offended her. Her technique was tight. Controlled. Angry. Powerful.

Sandra smirked.

“Aye!” She shouted, her voice slicing through the heavy air and silencing the gym in one instant.

Chantal halted, panting slightly as she pulled her headphones down to her neck, slightly frightened by the loud noise that cut through the gym. Her brows furrowed when she saw the woman pointing at her from the ring. She didn’t like being yelled at, especially not mid-round.

“Yeah?” She replied, wary, her voice clipped and a little awkward. All eyes were suddenly on her, and her fingers tightened on the wraps at her sides.

Sandra tilted her head, cocky smile widening. “What’s your name?”

The woman blinked, her eyes moving to the other that lingered in the building, now eyeing the twos “Chantal.” She said, lowering her fists.

“Yeah, I know,” Sandra replied with a nod , eyes still glued to her. There was something smug behind the statement, like she was waiting for a reaction. Chantal didn’t give her one. She simply rolled her eyes and went to put her headphones back on, uninterested in whatever performance Sandra was looking to start.

But Sandra wasn’t finished.

“Wanna spar?”

A hush rippled through the gym. Some people went back to training, but others stayed watching—Duke among them, leaning slightly forward now with interest. Even an older man from Sandra’s team, someone recognizable from TV, was squinting toward the back.

Chantal blinked, taken aback. She shook her head, quick and dismissive.

“Nah. I’m not a boxer.”

Sandra didn’t skip a beat. “I didn’t ask you that,” She shot back. “I asked if you wanted to spar.”

“And I said no.” Chantal snapped, her temper flickering at the edges. She was tired of the attention, the sudden challenge, the performance of it all.

Sandra scoffed and turned toward her corner, laughing with her coach and sparring partner. Then, just loud enough to carry, she muttered, “La perra tiene miedo.” They chuckled, assuming Chantal had tuned them out.

But she hadn’t.

The moment the words left Sandra’s mouth, Chantal froze. Her headphones never made it to her ears. Her jaw clenched, and her eyes narrowed as rage began to simmer up her spine. “What the fuck did you just say?” She asked, loud and sharp, ripping the headphones fully off and tossing them onto her bag.

The gym quieted again, the one that went back to their training pausing to look back at the commotion.

Sandra turned slowly, eyebrow raised, but didn’t respond fast enough for Chantal. She didn’t wait for her to respond before she marched toward the ring, venom in her voice, switching fluently into Spanish now. “¿Qué carajo dijiste de mí? ¿Ah? Repítelo, perra.”

Sandra and her crew stiffened, but said nothing. Sandra’s face flickered with surprise before she pulled on her smirk again. “You better watch who the fuck you’re talking to.” She shot down from the edge of the ring, leaning on the ropes.

“No, you better watch your fucking mouth. I don’t fucking know you.” Chantal spat.

The heat between them intensified, voices rising with every second. They spoke over each other now, Spanish and English blending into a furious mess. Chantal’s fists were balled, her shoulders squared like she was ready to climb through the ropes, and Sandra leaned forward as if daring her to do it.

Before Sandra could even step down from the ring, Duke stepped in, moving away from the conversation he was having with the other Creed boxer.

“Alright—Alright!” He barked, stepping between them with his hands raised. “That’s enough!”

He turned to Chantal first. “Look, I know she talks slick, but this ain’t the place for it, alright?”

“She called me a bitch.” Chantal growled, her hard stare moving to the man now. “You better get her.”

“And you looked ready to fight about it—which I get.” He said quickly, cutting a look toward Sandra. “But no fights outside the ring. Y’all wanna settle this? Then do it with gloves. Otherwise, cut the noise.”

Sandra threw up her hands mockingly. “I said spar. She said no. Guess she is scared.”

Chantal’s nostrils flared as Duke gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t give into unless you plan on handling it.” He said low enough for only her to hear.

Chantal frowned as she huffed out of anger. She then glanced around and he was right. Pairs of eyes lingered on her, some amused, some stunned, others just curious. Even the bag she’d been working on seemed to pulse with the tension still radiating off her.

Chantal let out a sharp exhale through her nose, jaw tight.

“What’s it gonna be?” Duke asked, voice low but firm. Chantal didn’t answer right away—not with words, anyway. Her jaw was clenched so tight her teeth could’ve cracked. Her nostrils flared with every breath, each inhale hotter than the last. And her glare was almost loud. Loud enough to shake something loose in the gym’s atmosphere.

“Run it.” She hissed, her gaze locked on Sandra, who was now grinning down at her from inside the ring like a lion already tasting blood.

Duke gave her a long look. Not quite disapproval, but close—more like the reluctant resignation of a man who’d just agreed to light a match near gasoline. Still, he nodded, turning on his heel to get her corner ready.

Sandra was already peeling off her hoodie, bouncing in place as her coach tightened her gloves and handed her a mouthguard. She looked excited. Eager. Like she hadn’t had real competition in months.

While Duke moved to grab gear for Chantal, a voice came from behind him.

“Yo, D,” Adonis called out, making his way over with furrowed brows. “Are you sure about this?”

Duke didn’t look up. “Yeah, I’m sure. Sandra needs a fight.”

Adonis glanced toward the ring, then to Chantal, who was tightening her own gloves without a hint of hesitation before moving to get them paid up. “And you think this is it?” He asked, subtly gesturing at her, his tone low and unsure. Chantal didn’t react outwardly to the slight jab. Maybe because she didn’t blame him. She was a stranger—one who just stormed into their gym and challenged their top fighter out of pure spite. But it didn’t matter to her. She was angry. And nothing else existed outside of that.

“I mean—this is reckless, man.” He continued.

Duke didn’t even look up, didn’t pause in his movements as he taped her other hand. “Yeah, you would know, wouldn’t you?” He said dryly, voice hard-edged.

Adonis frowned. “Duke.”

“Adonis,” Duke fired back without missing a beat, finally standing to face him. They stared at each other for a long second. Not aggressive, but there was something tense and unspoken between them, a kind of mutual challenge layered beneath years of trust and respect. Neither one of them moved, as if deciding whether to press it or let it die.

Chantal, fed up with the testosterone-fueled standoff, scoffed loudly and shoved past both of them without a word. Her shoulder clipped Adonis’s arm as she walked by, but she didn’t apologize.

She had a ring to climb into.

With a practiced hop, Chantal pulled herself through the ropes and into the ring. The moment her feet hit the mat, something inside her shifted. The gear, the weight of the gloves, the feeling of the canvas beneath her soles—it all came rushing back like muscle memory waking from a long nap.

She started bouncing on her toes, loosening up her shoulders as her body fell into rhythm. She slapped her gloves together and hissed short breaths between her teeth as she threw jabs at the air, working up momentum like she was stoking a fire. Her eyes stayed on Sandra across the ring, but her focus was inward. That familiar flood of adrenaline was back, and it was delicious.

The gym watched in hushed anticipation.

“Aye!”

The shout snapped her head down toward the ropes. Adonis was standing just below, holding a padded vest in one hand.

“At least put this on.” He said, not unkindly. His eyes were serious, but there was no trace of the earlier doubt in his voice. Chantal’s jaw ticked. For a second, she didn’t move. Just stared at him, letting the weight of her glare settle.

Then, with a sharp exhale, she slid back out of the ring.

Adonis met her halfway, pulling the vest over her head and strapping it tight across her back. His hands moved with focus, quick and efficient. And though he was clearly trying to stay professional, Chantal’s eyes never left his face—sharp, unreadable, almost daring him to look up. When he finally did, their eyes locked for a second. Just a second. But it was enough for something to pass between them—respect, maybe, or understanding. It didn’t linger long.

Chantal pulled away and slid back into the ring without another word. Though she couldn’t help but to think about how good he looked,

The crowd in the gym seemed to lean in as she rolled her shoulders, fists clenched and ready. She smacked her gloves together again before.

Then the bell rang.

Not an official one—just the sharp clang of Duke’s whistle echoing across the gym like the start of a war. The entire room tensed. All eyes locked on the ring as Chantal and Sandra stepped forward from opposite corners, gloves raised, shoulders tight, heads low. There was no friendly touch of gloves, no nod of respect. This wasn’t sport. It was a grudge match.

From the jump, Sandra made her experience known. Her guard was solid, elbows tight, and her footwork steady and grounded. Her movements were calculated—compact hooks, efficient slips, sharp uppercuts that came with professional precision. But Chantal was lightning. Unpredictable. Her fists moved like flickers of flame, and her body flowed with a rhythm not taught but earned. Something one can only be born with, or started young,

The first official hit came from Sandra—a tight left hook that caught Chantal’s temple. It sent her stumbling half a step, and the gym gasped.

“¡Vamos, Sandra!” Her coach shouted from the corner. “¡Enséñale quién manda!” Come on, Sandra! Show her who’s boss!

But Chantal only grinned, blood rising like heat beneath her skin. Her rebuttal came fast—a one-two combo that rocked Sandra’s jaw and gut, forcing her backward.

“She fast.” Adonis muttered under his breath, arm folded tightly as he watched from ringside.

“Yeah.” Duke replied, eyes never leaving the ring. “And mad.”

Sandra threw a looping overhand right, but Chantal ducked, slid inside, and landed a jab clean to the ribs.

“Is that all you got?” Chantal barked.

Sandra answered with a grunt that spit some blood through her mouth guard and a punch to the mouth that snapped Chantal’s head back.

“¡Te voy a tumbar, perra!” Sandra snarled. I’m gonna knock you down, bitch!

“You can try.” Chantal spat through her mouthguard, tasting the metallic liquid her mouth. “But you better swing harder than that, mama.” She taunted. The gym roared with each exchange. The air was electric, thick with sweat, adrenaline, and mounting tension. Sandra’s corner yelled commands, rapid-fire in Spanish, while Duke’s voice boomed over everyone else’s. “Guard up, Chantal! Don’t admire your work!” He yelled.

Adonis leaned closer to the ropes, eyes wide. “Watch the left! She’s loading it!”

But Chantal didn’t need to be told anything. She was already shifting her weight, bobbing just out of reach, her eyes sharp and predatory. Her counters came quicker now—three jabs in a row, each one tagging Sandra’s face with vicious precision. Left cheek. Chin. Nose. The sound of leather hitting flesh echoed like gunfire in the gym.

Sandra’s steps began to falter.

Chantal’s feet never stopped moving. Light but rooted, springy but deadly. She ducked a wild haymaker and punished the woman with another barrage—jab, jab, hook, jab—all to the face.

“¡Cúbrete, Sandra! ¡La cara!” Her coach screamed. Cover your face!

But it was too late. Chantal was relentless now, her gloves dancing like knives across Sandra. “You tired already?” She taunted, voice rising over the noise. “I thought you was bad, huh? ¡Pensé que no podía pelear!” I thought I couldn’t fight!

Sandra staggered back, clutching at her busted lip, face red and wet. Blood smeared along her glove.

“Get up!” Chantal screamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet, circling like a lion. Her eyes blazed, fists twitching. “Get up!” The gym fell into stunned silence as Sandra slowly rose, wiping her mouth with the back of her glove. She squared her stance again, fists up, breathing heavy.

“Alright, come on then, bitch—” Sandra started, but she never fully finished.

Chantal snapped forward and delivered a straight shot to the face—clean, fast, and full of fury. Sandra’s head whipped back as her body flung into the ropes, collapsing like a ragdoll. The impact sent a shock through the gym.

“And stay down.” Chantal hissed through her teeth, chest heaving.

Sandra groaned on the mat, face twisted in pain. Her coach vaulted onto the apron, shouting, “¡Mierda! ¡Esto es una locura!” Shit! This is insane! Others in her corner erupted in fury.

“You let that animal in the ring?!” One shouted at Duke, voice shrill.

“Y’all crazy for letting this happen!” Another yelled, pointing fingers. “She ain’t even licensed, Duke!”

But Chantal didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. She spat her mouthguard into her glove and dropped her arms, walking to the ropes with a searing glare. Her teeth clamped down on the tape at her wrists as she tore it free with furious yanks, ripping her gloves off as she eased out of the ring. The vest hit the matted floor with a thud as she tossed it aside, chest still rising and falling like she’d run through fire.

Duke took a step toward her as she moved to leave. “Chantal—”

Adonis followed. “Yo, hold up—”

But she was already gone. She brushed past both men without a glance, her fists clenched tight by her sides. No one in the gym tried to stop her. No one dared. Most were too focused on the beating she’d just delivered. She made it to her side of the gym, grabbed her bag with one hand, and slung it over her shoulder with the other. Her body moved like a storm—tight, unyielding, vibrating with leftover heat. Duke called after her. Adonis too. But Chantal didn’t even slow down.

The front door of the gym closed shut behind her as she marched out into the street, her car parked across from the building. Still breathless. Still burning.

But for the first time all day—Chantal felt alive.

@j0joworld @vile-harlot @inkdrippeddreams @imsohappyilovekbop @bbymuthaaa @healthenature @susanhill @lucidaquarian

#adonis creed x black!reader #adonis creed x reader #adonis creed #adonis #michael b jordan x black reader #michealbjordan x reader #michealbjordan fanfic #michael b jordan x reader #micheal b jordan #michaelbjordan #michael b. jordan #michael b jordan #creed 3 #creed

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seungfl0wer · 7 months ago

Text

*𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕?*

Paring: Chan x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Unprotected sex, Creampie, (P in V), dirty talk, use of princess, Oral (F), sorry if I missed any, not proofread so sorry for any mistakes

This was requested from my prompt list 6: “you weren’t supposed to hear that”

A/N: I’m sorry if this is all over the place. I haven’t had time to even think *Sigh* so I’m sorry if it’s not my best.

-🖤

Working late today, you just felt so exhausted from the long shift. Feeling tired and stressed you were honestly ready to scream. You were gonna head home but your friend’s place was a lot closer, You stayed there often especially after late shifts. You didn’t think he’d mind, he was probably still awake anyways. You shot him a message about crashing there but he never responded. You figured he was just working on something. When you go to his place you knocked before reaching for the space key he had given you.

Opening the door it was pretty quiet surprisingly. Normally there was at least music playing but nothing. You stayed quiet thinking he was probably just asleep. Making your way to the spare bedroom you placed your stuff down heading to the bathroom. You started to wash your face when you heard a noise. You tilted your head thinking you heard Chan call for you. The silence was so loud though, thinking you were going crazy you wiped your face.

Making your way back to the room you heard your name again, this time you really heard it. It sounded soft and then again this time mixed with noises and then you heard it “fuck y/n you feel so good.” Hearing this made your stomach flip. A knot in it slowly building as you walked towards his room. The door was half way open, peering in you saw him. He was bent over a pillow fully naked as he was thrusting into the makeshift ‘body’ he had made. You knew you shouldn’t be watching, you’d be mortified if he’d see you but god- did he look good.

His toned body glistening with sweat as moans and groans left his mouth. His movements were everywhere as he pushed himself in and out of the pillow. He gripped it tightly head falling backwards “fuck y/n I wanna fill you- ah- ah fuck need you wrapped around me” his words pour out like a faucet. “Y/n fuck- y/n” he moaned. The scene in front of you was turning you on more than you’d like to admit. Chans been your friend for a while now but he was definitely hot no doubt about it.

That smile of his alone made you weak but hearing him like this just- made a pool in your panties. He started moving not wanting to be found out as a creeper you quickly moved to the side. Nothing could have prepared you for the sweet noise you were about to hear “y/n! Fuck! Ah- cu-cuming!” The low groan he left out followed by moans and whimpers as he came. You stood there almost drooling over how hot he sounded. So many thoughts were swirling in your head that you didn’t hear him walking towards the door.

As he walked out he looked over at you, doing a double take trying to figure if he was tripping. “How long have you been- here?” He said his voice a bit shaky. You couldn’t think straight not after hearing what you did. Not only that but he was now standing infront of you fully naked. His cock slightly still hard, his body red glistening with sweat. “I uhm-“ you stuttered out eyes glancing over him.

“Y/n- I- how much did you hear?” He said his eyes burning a hole into you. “Well I” your words just wouldn’t come out. Everything just getting stuck like a cat actually had your tongue. “Fuck- you weren’t supposed to hear any of that- I mean obviously.. I didn’t know you were coming- I’m sorry- I hope you don’t think I’m weird. It’s just-“ he sighed. “You’re so- pretty and you always pop in my mind when I’m doing this and- and I can’t help it” he continues to ramble.

As he’s talking about it you could see his cock twitching like, being caught or telling you about it was turning him on again. You subconsciously rubbed your legs together, feeling hornier than you ever have. “Why didn’t you just ask for my help?” Your words came out without you even thinking about it. His eyes widened “are- are you serious?” He asked. “I- uhm I yes I’m serious” you stuttered out, eyes meeting for the first time. Without a second of thought he pulled you to him lips crashing into yours. His tongue found its way into your mouth his hands came down wrapping around your waist. He picked you up wrapping your legs around him making you squeal. He chuckled before chasing after your lips once again.

As he laid you down his hands frantically wondered your body. Finding their way to your pants he quickly pulled them down, his hands came under your legs lifting them up. He pressed himself between you his cock pressing against your folds, The contact making you both moan. He moved his hips his cock head coming up to press against your clit. His lips were making their way down to your neck sucking harshly at the skin. Both of you were desperate “Chan- please” you begged breathily hands pulling him to you.

He didn’t even hesitate before letting himself slip into you. Hands gripping tightly to him desperate for more contact. He didn’t move right away the feeling too good for him already. He must have been still for to long though, because you started to whine “move” you said softly. He looked down at you with the most fucked out face as he started to move slowly. He was so lost in the feeling of you, so drunk off of you he bottomed out almost immediately. His cock head kissing your cervix ever so perfectly.

“God you feel even better than I expected” he moaned. His movement were all over the place. He leaned down to you kissing you sloppily his tongue lapping at yours teeth biting at your bottom lip. His hands griped onto your legs desperately trying to find something to anchor him. He felt like he was in a dream, just minutes before he was getting off to the thought of you. Now he’s getting off with you, with him deep inside you. Your body felt addicting, he craved it needed it or he possible might die. “Y/n fuck I’m-“ he started to say his head falling back.

“Cum for me Chris, fuck- please” you say but he shook his head “n-no i wanna savor this moment. Need it to last longer.” He said before pulling out before you could even protest at the loss of him he was going down your body. His lips attached to your wet cunt like some hungry animal. He was fucking you with his tongue his fingers playing with your clit. Your body arched at the feeling moaning his name as you gripped at his hair. “Fuck!” Is all you could get out as he switched. Fingers now pumping into as he sucked harshly at your clit. “Cum for me- please I wanna taste every bit of you.” He said his words coming out like a plea.

He sped his movements up biting softly at your sensitive nub, you uncontrollably started to move your hips. Bucking them grinding into his tongue as you chased your high. “That’s it baby cum for me, fuck cum for princess” he said feeling you clench around his fingers. You came hard, harder than you ever have before. Pulling his hair hard almost screaming his name as your body levitated from the mattress. He continued through your high before quickly coming up to you. He leaned his head against yours eyes looking into each others.

He guided himself into you once again cock moving in and out, he watched as your face contorted in pleasure. Becoming sensitive from just cumming you felt a bigger knot in your stomach. It was already building once again as each thrust hit your g-spot. “Fuck- you feel so good. I’ve never wanted someone as much as I’ve wanted you. Fuck y/n! Fuck! Fuck!” He groaned out sitting up gripping your hips as he pushed deeper into you. His hand came down to play with your clit, thrust becoming sloppier. As you looked up at him the view was magnificent, his eyes were glossed over, lips swollen and mouth half open.

“I’m so fucking close y/n” he breathed out “Chris- c- cum inside” you moaned. The look on his face was everything, a mixture of shock and pure ecstasy “Yeah? I can? Really?” He said in disbelief. You nod yes making him groan. He leaned his body down laying it against yours head in the crook of your neck. He started to thrust sloppier into you his hand on your clit moving frantically. “I’m gonna fill you full, gonna fill this pretty pussy so full it only wants me” he said against your ear. “Y/n you’re all mine ok? Please I need you to be all mine” he babbled on.

He leaned up looking into your eyes “tell me please- say it” he said eyes locked on you. “Chris- I’m all yours. Only yours.” And with those words it pushed him over the edge his body was stuttering inside you cuming deep as he let out moans and curses. As he came the feeling of it mixed with the feeling of him playing with your abused clit made you cum. Something you didn’t expect though as you came it felt different, until you heard him groan even more “princess- fuck squirting all over me?” He said his voice shaky.

No one has ever been able to make you squirt but here you were covered in your mess, it covering Chans body. “Y/n did you really mean it? Are you all mine?” He said moving to look at you again. “Yes, I’d love to be all yours.” He smiled widely kissing you lovingly. You two stayed cuddled into each other for a few before Chan broke the silence. “Let’s go shower yeah?” You nodded “if I can walk” your comment making you both burst out laughing.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

Text

Indulgence

Pairing: Dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub!Female Reader Summary: When Bucky calls, you go to him. Word Count: Over 5.7k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, D/s elements, bondage, aftercare, established arrangement, insecurities, pet names, longing, possessive behavior, world building, mix of canon and non-canon, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm very excited for this new AU, lovelies! There's a deep bond between these two, but we know the road to love isn't always easy. ❤️Beta read by the amazing @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. And thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for listening to me ramble about this part. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You had only been asleep for an hour when your phone went off, your eyes barely open as you reached for the device and saw the familiar name appear. “Bucky?” You answered drowsily.

“Hey, angel,” he said roughly, the pet name bringing a sleepy smile to your face. It sounded like he hadn't gotten much sleep either. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I have tomorrow off,” you said, a bit more alert as you sat up. “Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I got back a bit ago,” he replied, swearing under his breath. “It’s really late. I just…”

“Need me,” you finished for him, stretching your back as you stood up. If he wanted to tell you he made it home safely from his latest assignment, he would've sent you a text. You knew by now that a call meant he had to see you in person. “Give me a few minutes?”

“You sure? I understand if you’d rather go back to bed.”

“I’m not going to get any sleep until I know you will, too,” you said. It would drive you crazy. “I want to come over. Okay?”

You wondered if the call dropped since you didn't hear anything on the other end. “Okay. I’ll send a car,” he said. He never let you pay for a ride yourself. “Thank you,” he added so softly you almost missed it.

“You don't need to thank me,” you assured him, though you appreciated hearing it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised, your heart skipping a beat before he hung up.

You brushed your teeth again before you changed out of your pajamas. The outfit didn't exactly matter. If it had, he would’ve told you what you wear. It wouldn't stay on long anyway. You sensed that this was a night for him to simply blow off some steam or release anything still pent up from his assignment.

You were more than happy to help.

“On my way.” You messaged him a few minutes later as you went out to the car.

You politely greeted the driver before gazing out the window. If anyone had told you months ago that you’d be sleeping with the former Winter Soldier, you would’ve laughed at them for saying something so crazy. You never expected to meet the man, let alone connect with him. That was your life now though. You were sleeping with Bucky Barnes.

But it wasn't that cut and dry.

“I’ll be outside.” He sent back.

You smiled to yourself as you thought about Bucky, the man searching for himself again. After years of enduring horrific pain and having no control over his actions, he felt lost once he was free. In his eyes, he would never be able to right all the wrongs of the atrocities he was forced to commit, but making amends for his past was a start. It wasn't enough though to heal the cracks from within. It couldn't stop him from plunging into the deep abyss of his mind where it once felt whole.

He had to find a way to feel semi-normal again. He needed to do something good for someone else outside of his heroic duties. And he had to do so in an environment where he could express himself openly, honestly, and authentically with a person he could trust.

That was where you came into the picture.

If Bucky called, no matter what time of day and you were available, you went to his place in a car he paid for. You stayed until you were both satisfied. A more crude way to think of it was that you helped him fuck out his frustrations and gave him a means to inflict pleasure on someone instead of hurt. It was a routine you were used to by now.

“You wanna be my angel?”

You may be his angel, but you weren't his girlfriend. He wasn't in a place to have a typical relationship. You weren't just a fuck buddy either. You were his submissive of sorts, along with his confidant and a way for him to find release and some sense of normalcy.

While he sometimes fucked you like a whore, he never once treated you like one. He cared for your well-being and checked in on you the way a boyfriend would. He kept his place stocked with your favorite snacks. You didn't sleep with anyone else and neither did he. You looked out for each other.

Unlike your last boyfriend.

As far as arrangements went, you could do much worse. There were rules set in place. Bucky was honest about his needs and helped you heal your wounds from the failure of your previous relationship. But the more time you spent with him, the more you wanted to be with him.

Was it a recipe for disaster?

The drive seemed faster than usual because before you knew it the car stopped in front of Bucky’s apartment building. Your pulse quickened when you saw the brunette standing by the door, donned in his usual leather jacket. Even from a short distance, he looked massive and heat bloomed in your core as you knew what was to come. He moved to the curb with more grace than a man his size should have, his hard blue eyes set on you through the glass before he opened the door.

His gaze practically set your heart on fire and it went full ablaze when he tenderly smiled. He was stunningly beautiful even in the dark of night. It almost hurt to look back at him.

You had it bad.

“Hey,” he said, offering you his gloved hand to help you out. You hardly ever saw him out without his vibranium hand covered. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey,” you smiled softly, giving the driver a quick thanks before you got out. “You, too.”

Bucky's large hand moved to the small of your back as he gently led you toward the building and opened the door. He didn't like to linger outside for too long. Neither of you spoke as he guided you to his apartment on the first floor and you didn't push him to make small talk. It was a delicate arrangement and some nights didn't call for filler.

Still, you tried to get a read on his emotions. There was a stiffness to his stance, but he didn't appear upset or angry. You also didn’t spot any obvious injuries.

“Were you hurt?” You asked as he took his keys out. He was only gone for a couple of days, but you knew how dangerous the missions were.

He turned and stared at you, not at all surprised by your question since you always asked. “No, I didn’t get hurt,” he assured you, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. “But I can't exactly talk about it either. I’m sorry.”

You nodded in understanding. It was information you weren't privy to and you doubted he called tonight to talk about it anyway. He peeled back layers of himself, yet there was so much underneath that you didn't know about. You cared for him regardless.

“Bucky, you don't have to apologize for that,” you reminded him.

“I just feel bad. You can tell me about your work, but I can't always talk about mine,” he said, looking both ways before he poked his head into his apartment.

“My job isn’t as ‘exciting’ as yours,” you teased before he let you in.

Bucky had a nice place. The partially exposed brick walls paired well with the hardwood floors. Tasteful, but not extravagant. The thick curtains in the living room matched the drapes in his bedroom. Since he occasionally slept on the floor by the oversized chair, it helped to block out the sun. He didn't have much as far as decor, but he did have a piece of art that his best friend, Steve, drew hung up in the hall.

He also had a bowl that you made on the console to hold his keys, which he promptly set them in.

It meant something that he even let you into his apartment when others close to him had never been invited.

“Need anything to drink?” He asked, slipping his jacket and glove off.

He had an empty glass waiting on the kitchen island in case you did. While you indulged in a drink now and then, he wouldn't allow you to have too many. He refused to have sex with you if you were inebriated. Said it took consent away and you wouldn't be alert enough to use a safeword if necessary.

He wouldn't budge on that rule.

“No, thanks,” you answered, gazing at him.

His T-shirt strained against his biceps, one flesh and one vibranium. You could still smell his cologne from the small distance across the room, amber and cedarwood. Warm, comforting, dominating. All the things he was to you.

Not the monster he sometimes believed himself to be.

You eyed him as he poured himself a shot of whiskey, the need to soothe him coming forward when you caught a distant look in his eyes. He didn't even make a move to down his drink as he set his hands on the counter and stared off. Maybe he couldn't give you the details about what happened, but you could take care of him.

Because as much as he sometimes had to have control over you, both of you had power in your relationship.

“Bucky?” You gently called out, pulling him from his trance. “You can talk to me, even if you have to keep some things to yourself.”

His shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Three months.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Three months since we started this,” he answered.

You realized he was right when you remembered the date. It felt longer yet still brand new. “Yeah. Three great months,” you smiled.

A knot formed in your stomach when he didn't smile back. “And you still feel safe with me?” He asked, gripping the counter so hard you thought it might crumble in his hands. “You really trust that I won’t hurt you?”

Your smile slipped, the questions like a punch to the gut as you walked toward him. You stopped a foot in front of him to give him some breathing room as he made eye contact. Where had that come from? What happened to make him question that?

“Of course, I feel safe. Not only do I feel safe with you and trust you, I know that you won't hurt me. You will always take care of me,” you said with fierce determination, yet with a vulnerability you couldn't hide. “If I didn't believe that, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t submit to you.”

You told him the same thing the day you two agreed on this arrangement. He wasn't your boyfriend, but he wasn't like your ex. He wouldn't just throw you away without a second thought or ignore your needs. You also had faith in him that he wouldn't harm you.

And as much as you trusted him, he trusted you that much more. If he didn't, he wouldn't have called you in the first place. That meant he still trusted himself around you.

He looked away and asked above a whisper, “Do you still think I'm a good man?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation, your heart aching when his jaw clenched. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

He slowly made eye contact with you, a storm swirling in his stare.

“You are a good man,” you stated, needing to reach the part of him that believed it. “And it doesn't matter how many times you ask me that, my answer isn't going to change. Ever.”

Bucky was silent, his breathing the only sound in the space. You were worried that you said the wrong thing before he pushed himself away from the counter. Instead of moving back when he approached, you stood firm, ready to brace the storm. You sometimes felt like a mouse confronted by a lion when he got close, but it sent a thrill through you. Because you meant what you said.

You trusted him and he made you feel safe.

“I just had to hear you say it,” he whispered as he cupped your face.

A fire lit within you as Bucky captured your mouth with his. There was care and tenderness beneath the hunger and you found yourself clinging to his arms as you kissed him back. No one before him had ever kissed you with such desire, such passion. It had you chasing his lips when he pulled away too soon.

“Now go to my room, get undressed, and kneel on the bed facing the headboard,” he ordered, his voice low and allowing the words to sink in just in case you had any objections. Because he was done talking and ready to play.

So were you.

It took you a moment to answer since you had to bite back a whine. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered, feeling his eyes on you as you walked to his bedroom.

You focused on keeping your breathing even as you shed your clothes, taking a moment to fold them before you set them on the chair in the corner. The only time you left your garments on the floor was if Bucky put them there or had you put on a show for him. It was his space and you respected it.

He hadn't told you how long to wait for him, but your heart thumped as you knelt on the queen sized bed. You didn’t see any toys as you glanced around, but there was water, snacks, wipes, and the soft blanket you loved waiting on the nightstand. It took a moment for you to spot that there was a blindfold and scarf on top of the blanket. Your womb clenched in anticipation, an exquisite feeling knowing your patience and obedience would reward you.

Bucky walked through the door a minute later and shut it behind him. The energy shifted completely, both of you ready for each other. As much as you wanted to lift your gaze and look behind you, you kept your eyes downcast as he approached the bed. He cupped your cheek once he was close enough and forced your eyes to meet his.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your skin as you glowed from the praise. He reached for the scarf and ran his fingers across the silk as he glanced at you. “As much as I hate to cover those beautiful eyes of yours and restrain you, I want you to concentrate on my touch tonight. Just let me have you.”

A shiver rolled down your spine as you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Hands behind your back,” he said, moving to secure them once you did so. The silk was soft against your skin, almost as soft as the kiss to your shoulder. After years of being restrained, you knew he felt guilty at times taking your control away. The difference was you gave yourself to him willingly. “Tell me your safewords.”

“Green is good. Yellow to pause,” you stated, testing the scarf. He never bound you too tight, but it was enough that you couldn’t slip your wrists free. “Red to stop."

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You turned your head a fraction so he could slot his lips properly over yours. Gentle, yet hot enough to melt your insides. “My good girl.”

He maneuvered you so you were in the middle of the bed and spread your knees a bit further apart. He joined you on his knees, still fully clothed. Casting your gaze down again, you bit your lip when you saw the prominent bulge in his pants. A hand came up to grasp your chin before you could stare for too long and lifted your head. If you were still wearing your panties, they would’ve dampened from his darkened gaze.

“So beautiful and all mine tonight,” he said.

“I’m yours, Sir,” you whispered, the word “always” unspoken.

“And I know you were staring,” he smirked, his fingers working the button and zipper of his jeans. His impressive cock sprang free once he pushed his underwear and pants down far enough and you wished you could lean down and swirl your tongue around the large head. “Greedy angel. Just desperate to have my cock in you.”

“Yes, Sir. Please,” you begged.

He made a show of lifting the blindfold before he slipped it over your head, your body tensing up when your world went dark. Sight was one of the senses you relied on the most. It helped you absorb most of the world around you. And now it was temporarily gone. It felt like your heart would burst from your chest as you breathed a bit heavier. But Bucky was there, softly touching your face until you relaxed.

“Breathe, angel. I’ve got you,” he whispered, drawing a gasp from you when his lips touched yours. His hands mapped your body, brushing along your breasts down to your thighs. You felt him everywhere. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered as a hand moved around your back and forced you to arch. He was careful not to hurt your arms. “Please.”

Your head fell back with a moan as his lips closed around your nipple. You could practically feel that he looked up at you as he gently suckled. A wave of arousal crashed through you as he pinched the other. No one had ever lavished your body with such attention the way Bucky did.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured against the swell of your breast. “Helpless. Trembling. Needy.”

You didn't mean to let such a wanton moan escape, but he made you feel needed. He made you feel wanted. It was a beautiful thing to surrender to him.

“And I love that I'm the one you trust to take care of you.”

“I trust you with my life, Sir,” you moaned.

And your heart, even though he had the power to break it.

Your chest suddenly felt colder when Bucky pulled his mouth and hand away and you shook from the loss of his heat. His vibranium hand touched your torso to remind you he was close when he shifted closer to you on the bed. You gasped when he dragged his hand down and you were helpless to do anything but feel when it slid between your legs.

“You're doing so well for me,” he said, his teeth grazing your neck as his fingers spread your sopping folds. He teased you, letting you soak his metal fingers as you mewled. He lightly bit you again when he replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding along your slit, but not pushing inside you just yet. “You want me inside you? You need me to fuck you, don't you? Tell me.”

Your cheeks flamed as you whined. “I need you to fuck me, Sir,” you said, trying to widen your thighs to take him in more.

“I will. I'm going to give you everything you need,” he rumbled, gripping your hips with strong and capable hands to keep you still. “And you’re going to let me ruin your pretty little pussy with my cock.”

You panted with want at his possessiveness. Filthy words were something you never thought you’d hear from someone associated with The Avengers and they kicked your body into overdrive. You ached to have him split you open. “Ruin me, Sir.”

In one swift move he lifted you, pulled you into his lap, and buried himself to the hilt. Your mouth fell open as you let out a cry, every inch of his cock stretching and making itself at home in your welcoming cunt. You couldn't brace yourself on his shoulders with your hands behind your back. You couldn't see the ecstasy in his eyes as he let you adjust to his size, but you didn't have to. Not with the way he dug his fingers in and groaned against your shoulder.

He took you to heaven when he was inside you.

“Color,” he said against your skin, thrusting his hips up once.

“Green,” you moaned, reminding yourself to stay still when you wanted him to move. “So green.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, gently kissing up to your ear. “Keep being good while I bounce you up and down on my cock.”

Your eyes fluttered behind the blindfold as he pulled you up and slammed you back down on his cock. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your heart beat frantically in your chest. It was difficult to string thoughts together, but they all went back to him and how good he made you feel. How he made you feel beautiful.

Flaws and all.

“It’s like your cunt was made for me, angel. Practically crying all over my cock,” his voice was smoky as sounds of pleasure tumbling from your lips. The next moan was softer when he slid a hand up to your neck, resting it there as the other kept your hips flush against his. “You deserve to feel good because you are good. So fucking good.”

Your lower lip trembled as a sob worked its way to your throat, “Thank you, Sir,” you whimpered before he squeezed.

“And I. Deserve. You.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust. You didn’t have to see his face to know the fury that surfaced. “My angel. Mine.”

It overwhelmed you as he bounced you in his lap, sinking you down onto him again and again. His thrusts were almost unforgiving, but the hand on your throat didn’t tighten anymore. He couldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m your angel, Sir,” you moaned as he reduced you to a needy wet mess.

“I wanna tear you apart,” he growled against your lips. “And put you back together so you still feel me when you fucking breathe.”

“Tear me apart, Sir,” you gasped, a plea for him to use you more. Your thighs hit his as he thrust up and all you could do was take it. He touched places inside you no one else could reach, physically and emotionally, and you never wanted it to stop. “Please!”

“Tell me you need me to come inside you and I’ll let you come,” he ordered, the hand on your neck squeezing a fraction. “Say it.”

“Come inside me, Sir,” you begged.

“Bucky,” he breathed against your lips. “Say. My. Name.”

Your next breath was shaky. He always had you call him “Sir” on nights like this. Why was this different?

Your orgasm began to crest, but you couldn’t let go until you gave him what he wanted. And he’d give you what you needed. “Come inside me, Bucky,” you exhaled. “Please.”

He swiped his thumb along your pulse with a deep groan, his cock still driving up into you. “I will after you come,” he promised, his tongue sliding past your parted lips and pulling away all too quickly. “C’mon, angel. Come for me. Show me you’re mine.”

The sob you tampered down earlier resuraced, wrenched from your throat as you came. Your release continued, practically leaking around his cock as tears slid out beneath the blindfold. You were beyond rational thought as pleasure spiraled through you, vaguely aware that he thrust through it to chase his own end.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” He grunted, pulsing hotly inside you as he filled you up.

Both of you panted as you continued to drift from euphoria, your heart still beating wildly. You were warm, but your body shivered as he lifted you up. Your combined release slid from your aching cunt once he slipped free. You floated and wanted him to catch you, but you couldn’t put your arms around him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when you let out a whimper. He made quick work of untying your wrists so he could lay you down properly and wipe away the tears still on your cheeks. “I’m going to take the blindfold off.”

Your eyes stayed shut for a moment when Bucky removed it, but you cracked them open when you wanted to see him. Your vision slowly cleared as you blinked a few times, your mind still floating as he came into view. He called you an angel, but he was the one who had a halo around his head at the moment. A gorgeous angel who had unrightfully had his wings taken away. He smiled like he wanted to eat you alive, but his touch was nothing short of tender when he brought his hand to your face.

“So fucking beautiful. You did so well for me. Fuck, I just wanna clean you with my tongue and fill you up all over again,” he praised as you clenched around nothing and whined. As hot as it sounded, you needed a bit of rest after that. “Not tonight,” he smiled, keeping a hand on you as he grabbed a wipe.

A reason he had everything close by was because you craved his touch after sex. If he ever got too far away, you whimpered and reached for him. It made you feel needy, but he assured you that he needed to keep touching you just as badly.

It just wasn’t fair that he looked so composed.

Bucky continued to shower you with soft praise as he cleaned you up. It didn’t take him long before he wrapped the soft blanket around you, trembles moved through your entire body as he put his arms around you, too. He took aftercare very seriously. It was a way for you to feel cared for and nurtured while allowing your body and brain to return back to normal. He never wanted you to experience negativity or sadness after any sort of session, especially an intense one.

You were aware that he moved you closer in his arms and rested his cheek against the top of your head, but you weren't ready to speak yet. It always took you a minute to come back to yourself and he was never one to rush or push you. If relaxing in his embrace was what it took to return to the world, he was more than content to keep you in his arms.

At least, that was what he told you.

You opened your eyes after a few minutes. Your heartbeat was back to a steady rhythm, but you still weren't ready to move yet. You were warm and safe. Bucky was there to take care of you. But what about him?

Had you taken care of him?

Bucky had a faint smile on his face when you lifted your head, his shoulders relaxed and eyes soft. Like he was at ease with everything around him. “Welcome back, angel,” he whispered, peppering your face with light kisses.

“Hey,” you smiled tiredly, your voice a little hoarse as you brought a hand to his hair, happy that you could touch him again. Judging by the way his eyes slipped shut for a moment before he opened them, he missed your touch, too.

“You okay?”

“I am and so are you. You're okay.” It wasn't a question. Whatever haunted him earlier was gone.

For now.

He didn't tear his gaze away as he reached for the water behind him, which you gratefully accepted as he put it to your lips. “You amaze me, you know? You just came back to yourself, but you're talking about me being okay.”

“Isn’t that why you call me?” You asked with a small frown, taking another large sip. “To help you?”

His brows furrowed. “It’s not just about me. This is about you, too.”

You took one more drink before you could say something stupid. Yes, this was about you, too. How he didn't push too far. How he’d hold you after sex and talk with you because those things were important to you. How he made you feel cherished and wanted for a short while.

You just didn't want to admit that he was a constant in your mind. But would it be so wrong if you did? Even if he’d never date you, didn't he have a right to know how you felt?

Communication was key and you would have to eventually tell him if those feelings persisted.

“It’s about both of us and I just want you to be okay,” is what you said because it was the truth.

He set the water aside and cupped your cheek, his calloused hand a little cool, but nice. You almost wished you could hide from his knowing eyes, but he didn’t press you for more. “I am now,” he said, swallowing a little. “I just couldn't let you see me tonight.”

Worry filled his eyes like he may have upset you, but you shook your head. You had seen his scars, but he was never obligated to show you his body. “You're letting me see you now,” you said, scooting closer as he brought your wrist to his mouth to kiss it.

You thought about how the evening played out. How he asked if you thought he was a good man. How he demanded that you speak his name. And how he said he deserved you. Either something happened while he was gone or someone said or did something to get to him. You wished you knew what it was since he didn’t expand on what had been eating away at him before.

“And before you ask, you didn't hurt me,” you told him, knowing the question was coming. You appreciated that he cared enough to check.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Good because I’d never stop hating myself if I did,” he admitted, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “You don't deserve that kind of pain.”

Your heart swelled, not letting any past hurt enter your mind. He made you believe that you deserved better than what you had. It was a good feeling.

“Neither do you. And that's a reason why safewords exist. Both of us can use them,” you reminded him. Like aftercare, he took the words seriously. He listened to you. And if he ever got overwhelmed, he had every right to stop it the same way you did. “So no self-hate tonight.”

He huffed in mock annoyance. “Yes, ma’am. And speaking of self-hate,” he teased, tilting his head to look your way. “I really don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow.”

There was a forced calmness in his blue eyes as you assessed him. “You still don’t like your therapist,” you stated.

One of the conditions of his pardon was that he had to go to therapy. It was meant to help him process his thoughts and past experiences in order to work through them. Though he didn’t tell you what went on in his sessions as it was none of your business, he didn’t keep it a secret from you that the doctor was far from his favorite person.

You wondered if Bucky told her about you.

“What’s there to like?” He asked.

You smiled a little, knowing better than to poke the bear and say she probably wasn't that bad. “Well, being able to speak to someone who provides non-judgemental and empathetic support is one thing.”

“That’s why I like talking to you,” he said, the affection in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh,” you said, not sure what else to say.

Moments like that made you think he cared. No, that wasn’t right. You knew he cared about you. But hearing things like that made you feel like there was hope for more and he wasn’t ready for that.

Hope was both a wonderful and dangerous thing.

“Have you met anyone else?” He asked suddenly, moving his hand to your back.

It was a question Bucky asked every time he had you over. He said from the start if there was another man in your life that you’d rather be with, someone who could offer you more, he’d step aside. There wasn't anyone else. You didn't want anyone else.

And while it was admirable that he would walk away if that ever changed, your heart ached at the thought that he’d easily let you go. Because at the end of the day he wasn't ready for a relationship. Not yet.

Even if he was, who said he wanted one with you?

“No, I haven't met anyone,” you said, feeling the warm breath of his exhale against your skin as his hand moved up and down your back. It relaxed you more and you found yourself fighting a yawn. “Have you?”

“No,” he chuckled. The crinkles by his eyes made him look carefree. “Not since you saved me.”

You shut your eyes, afraid that tears would well up if you looked at him. “I didn't save you. All I did was buy you a coffee one afternoon,” you whispered dismissively.

That day changed your life.

“I’m going to let that slide since you're sleepy, but I’m going to remind you when you're wide awake that you did a lot more than that,” he spoke. He held you a little tighter when you stayed quiet. You were more tired than you thought. “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You let your eyes shut at his command. “Thank you for taking care of me, Bucky.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

There was something else unspoken in the air, but a tender kiss to your forehead stopped you from reading too deeply into it.

In the morning, he’d send you back to your place after he made you breakfast. He’d text you later to make sure you were okay. He would continue to check in and you would do your best not to fall for him more. Because one day he wouldn't need you anymore. You didn't know when that day would come, but tonight you could indulge in the fantasy that Bucky wanted you to be his girl.

Permanently.

I just want these two happy and together. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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motherlvr · 2 years ago

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just friends?

she fell first, he fell harder

wc: 2.2k

pairing: Earth-42! Miles Morales x f! reader

Summary: In the early years of your adolescence, you made the grave mistake of asking Miles to ‘practice kissing’ for future suitors. That mistake would come back to bite you every following day.

Warnings: cursing, childhood friends to lovers, friends that kiss, jealousy, started off the fic with a bang cuz i dont believe in small talk, possessiveness

A/N: what happened to hello? what happened to how are you?

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Your current predicament was straddling Miles' lap as you both kissed like this would be the last time you ever did. His hands grabbed onto your thighs that encased his legs. Pulling away for a second, you watched as a small string of saliva binds both of your lips.

Looking down at him, you asked out of breath, "We're still just friends, right?" The question caught him off guard. But he responds with a teasing smirk, "Yeah, yeah ma. Just friends." You nervously bit your bottom lip, nodding at his response. Wrapping your hands onto his braids, you smashed your lips against his yet again to ignore your conflicted thoughts.

It's times like this when your past mistake comes back to haunt you. And he made sure you never lived it down. The mistake in question was made on the playground with Miles when you were both ten. Being the young and innocent child you were, you proposed to 'practice kissing' for potential lovers in the future. As all kids do. He accepted and it all sprouted from there. You were each other's first kiss.

That first kiss was only one of many to come. You both had urges, after all. Since your younger days, it turned into something a bit more than just practice. But you never gave it a second thought. Until of late. What used to be a silly playground crush on Miles only grew stronger as the years passed by.

In all honesty, you had no clue where you stood with Miles. What were you, friends that kiss periodically? That was how it was, you suppose. But what you did know was that you'd stay by his side no matter the circumstance. Even if it meant that your friendship would never develop into more. Although occasionally you wished you never initiated to 'practice kissing' with him in your naive and prepubescent years. That would solve your problem at its roots and prevent the rapidly growing feelings you had for him. It was no doubt a mistake in your mind.

Separating your lips for a second time, you pulled away again. He stared at you in confusion. You looked frantic, "Shit, what time is it?" Glancing at the time on your phone, you cursed. It was 3:30 pm. "Fuck, I have a date at four o'clock. I gotta go, Miles." You jumped off of Miles' lap on his bed and swiftly started packing up your things.

Miles felt jealousy start to boil within his stomach as his lap felt empty. He was right here, why would you need to go on a date with some other guy? Furrowing his brows, he irritably questioned, "Fuck you mean you gotta date? With who?" He tried to conceal his annoyance but failed miserably.

"Some guy from my physics class asked me out, sorry but I gotta go." Grabbing your bag, you pecked his cheek lightly as a goodbye. Glancing in his mirror one last time, you tamed any stray strands of hair.

Your response only fueled his jealousy, "Do you even know his name?" He started interrogating you.

"Of course I do, it's..." You paused for a second to think, and your conclusion was unclear. Your mind was foggy. "I think it's Javi? Or maybe Jake? Jacob? Shit, I think you kissed the thoughts right out of my brain." You rambled. Your words made him crack a slight smirk, and he said, "Nah, you ain't going on that date ma." pulling you back into his hold by your hips.

"I can't just stand him up, Miles." You told him, starting to regret agreeing on going on the date. "I could take you on a better date than he can, mami." He suggested.

He was full of surprises this afternoon. Usually, he didn't display such possessiveness. You didn't even like the supposed guy you were going on a date with. You just thought he could help you get your mind off of Miles for a few minutes.

Raising an eyebrow, you asked, "Is that an offer?" "It's a promise." He responded without an ounce of hesitation. The way he was staring at you almost made you take him up on it. "Tempting, but I'll have to take a rain check. See you tomorrow. Alright, Miles?" You waved goodbye and walked out his door.

"'Ight, ma. See you." He gave up. As he watched you walk out the door of his room, he groaned in frustration.

The unfortunate recipient of his frustrations was a punching bag in his Uncle Aaron's apartment. Striking the bag with all the force he could muster, the punching bag rumbled on the chain it was strung upon. His knuckles were slowly getting bloodier with each hit, but he couldn't feel it. He could only feel you. It was the only thing he wanted to feel, anyway.

His Uncle inevitably noticed his behavior. Cleaning off one last knife, he set it down and walked towards his nephew. He held the punching bag steady and questioned him, "What's up with you, man?"

Continuing to throw punches at the unsuspecting punching bag, he responded sharply. "It's nothin'. Just my girl going on a date with some other guy." His nostrils flared slightly.

With those two sentences, his Uncle understood his sour mood. "That doesn't sound like nothing. And you just let her? I don't think you're my nephew, man." Shrugging, Miles took a quick water break. Taking a long swig of water, he replied, "You know her, she's stubborn." He had introduced you to his Uncle a while back. His whole family knew you, in fact. Every time he went back home, his mother asked about you. How you are, and when he’s going to tell you how he feels. It seemed everyone knew. Except you.

"Hey. If you want this girl, you gotta show her before someone else does." His Uncle wisely told him. Miles stopped hitting the punching bag and started wrapping his bloodied knuckles in bandages.

Those words stuck with Miles for the rest of the night as he made his way back to his dorm.

Laying on the bed of his dorm, Miles stayed up thinking about what his Uncle told him. His dorm felt empty without you there, he realized.

The next afternoon in his dorm again, you laid on your stomach on his bed, kicking your feet in the air. You frequented his dorm so often that you were more of a roommate to him than his actual one. Glancing at Miles, you noticed the bandages on his knuckles. “Ay, Miles. What happened?” You asked him, taking his hand into yours to inspect it. He disregarded it, "Don’t worry 'bout it.” He continued, addressing the elephant in the room. “How was your date with Javi, Jake, or Jacob?"

You casually respond, "Actually, his name was Jason. And it was fine, I suppose. Although I called him by the wrong name a few times until he corrected me." You mumbled the last part, embarrassed. Not to mention, you almost called him by Miles' name. Not just once but multiple times.

"Just fine, huh?" He replied, intrigued. And slightly satisfied that you didn't have too good of a time.

"Yeah. I mean, he tried kissing me by the end. But his breath reeked of garlic, so I looked the other way and pretended I didn't notice." You said with a grimace, pretending to get flashbacks. In reality, Miles ruined kissing for you. You couldn't stop seeing Miles' face as your date was leaning into you. He wasn't him.

Stifling a laugh, he grinned at you. "So, that mean you wanna take me up on my offer?" You whipped your head to him in surprise as you said, "You were serious about that? I mean, I'm down." Friends go on dates, don't they? You thought to yourself.

Nodding his head, he said, "I made a promise, ma." He started to stand up, gently grabbing your hand to pull you up with him. Locking your hand onto his arm, he led you out of campus.

Miles brought you to an endearing cafe only a few blocks away from the campus. A diamond in the rough, you thought. As you both sat down across from each other, you felt your nerves spiking.

Truth be told, he still made you nervous at times. Although you've undoubtedly been friends with him for longer than either of you could remember. The both of you ordered food and you started to speak, "So, you take all your girls here, Miles?" Putting on a calm facade, you teased him. You were glad he couldn't see your leg bouncing with anxiousness underneath the table.

He let out a slight puff at you, "What girls? Solo eres tú, mami. You know that." Your heart fluttered slightly at his words. Widening your eyes, you murmured, "I didn't know that, actually." You cleared your throat and enunciated, "How'd you find out about this place then?" Your voice piqued with interest. You didn't believe he would frequent this cute cafe in his spare time. It wasn't exactly his scene, so to say.

"This is where my dad took my ma on their first date." He said with an unusually soft tone, staring into your eyes for your reaction. You would never guess it, but he saw a future with you. Ever since that day on the playground, he knew it was real. His affection for you never dimmed since then.

As you both locked eyes, you realized then that he took you to a place that was sentimental to him and his family. This cafe was where his parent’s story first started. All of a sudden, this date felt a bit more serious than he had originally let on.

Under his stare, you felt your face go warm, "That's beautiful, Miles." After a few moments, you continued, "I suddenly feel like I'm intruding, though." His response came quick, "Never, mami. What makes you say that?" You confessed the thoughts that swarmed your brain right when you walked into the cafe, "I mean, this place feels a bit intimate for people that are 'just friends'" You said with air quotations.

"I think we're past that stage. Don't you, princesa?" You nodded at him. He was right, you thought. After all, friends don't usually have an oral fixation for their friend's mouth.

Your orders came at the same time. You both comfortably conversed. It was a nice change of pace after your date from yesterday. After you both ate your orders and paid, Miles and you walked down the street with his fingers settling on your waist. You spoke up, "Thanks for bringing me here today, Miles. I had a good time with you." You wanted nothing more than to reach up and kiss him til he couldn't breathe, but resisted.

"Anytime. If it meant you'd stop going on dates with other guys." He said casually, but his grip firmed on your waist. Your head turned to him at his words. After your date with Miles, you were sure he ruined dates for you as well. Just like he ruined your ability to kiss anyone else. "Yeah, I'm not even sure I'll want to go on a date with anyone else after this." You said under your breath. He silently grinned.

As you both made your way back to Miles' dorm, the urge to brush your lips against his only became stronger. You could tell he felt it, too. You noticed how he walked a bit faster to go back to his dorm.

Once the door to his room opened, you gave in to your desires and pulled him in by his hoodie to connect your lips. He backed you against his door as his hands traveled all over your body like it was a new territory he was unfamiliar with. He couldn't get enough of you. Groaning into your mouth, he deepened the kiss impossibly more. You both parted for a moment to get a quick breath of air.

Staring into his eyes, you told him before you lost the courage, "I don't want to be just friends. Friends that kiss sometimes when they feel like it." He looked at you like you just told him he won the lottery. In his eyes, this scenario was better than winning the lottery. He grinned as he kissed you again. Full of heat, his kiss spoke louder than words. "Then why don't we be lovers that kiss?” He pulled away to whisper against your lips. “Yeah, I think I like that idea.” You smiled against his lips.

That kiss from yesterday would be the last kiss you shared. As friends, that is. And this would be your first kiss as lovers. From the very first chapter of your life, he was there. And to the present-day chapter of your life, he's still here with you. In the end, It'll always be him and you.

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

solo eres tú - it’s only you

princesa - princess

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles morales spider man #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #spider man #friends to lovers #prowler miles #jealousy #childhood friends to lovers #childhood friends #prowler miles morales #miles morales #miles morales prowler #spider man: across the spider verse #friends that kiss

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leonsgfpost · 8 months ago

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note: Hi! this is my third official post, crazy stuff. Thanks so much for all the support, I didn't think my trash was any good 😭 Btw, I hope you enjoy this too. English isn't my first language, so sorry if there's a mistake. 💕

tags: smut, comfort, insecurities, Leon is so cute, Leon x fem! reader, doggy style, orgasms and more!

Leon loves you madly. He really does. So every time you ask that question, "Do you love me?" he answers honestly, just because he can't tear his heart out and give it to you.

This man is capable of lowering the moon if you ask him to, he would do anything for you. He is honest, he doesn't lie. He wakes you up with soft kisses, on his days off he hugs you as if you were the only thing that keeps him grounded. You are everything to him.

And it's not that you doubt him, but different situations in your past led you to be insecure, to a sour whirlpool forming inside you about it. About him. Even now, when he's balls-deep inside you.

"Leon, Leon-" You murmured between ragged gasps, feeling his chest pressing hard against your back holding you in place. Taking every thrust he gave you. "Do you love me-?" And that feeling inside you came again. You felt like crying. Maybe from the pleasure, or maybe from the overwhelming sensations.

For a moment you think he doesn't hear you because of his current state. Heavy breathing, eyes tightly closed, body sweaty and his mind blank every time he sinks down to touch that spongy spot inside you.

But he wouldn't miss a hair of yours.

"I love you, I do, dear.... More than anything." He affirmed again, because he would repeat it to you every time you want. And the question sounds unreal in his fucked up head, of course he loves you. You're the only person he can open up to, show that young man who died inside him in 1998. He even took the audacity to have hopes, dreams again. Because next to you nothing seemed impossible.

"I love you, I love you." He murmured in your ear along with the low moans he couldn't contain, not when your walls were sucking him in so good. And I'd be lying if I said not now he's the one who wants to cry. He'd kiss every part of your body, kiss you all over until he could make you forget everything. Just like he does when he's with you.

His hips try to keep his deep rhythm, while his arms search for a way to embrace you to keep him grounded. Your ass is smacked by his pelvis every time he plunges in, over and over again with ambition. The wet sound of your wet pussy is the complete opposite of the cute words coming from Leon's lips.

"You're the only one for me, you're everything to me...Oh, G-God-" Now he started to ramble, trying to get his whole cock inside you until he can fuck your brains out and make you forget.

"Fuck, I love you, baby-!" His voice was already shaking, but I didn't know if it was from the effort of pushing you or the effort not to cry over you like a fucking baby.

"C-Come on, say you love me too." His voice tried to sound demanding, but it sounded like a plea. A desperate plea to know that you loved him too, because he wanted to be loved. He needed it.

"I love you, Leon. I-I love you, I love you so much." You said obediently, your voice coming out choked from having your face buried in the sheets. Your hair was disheveled, little beads of sweat trickling down your back and trembling thighs trying to support your weight. And little tears began to fill the corners of your eyes.

Maybe he had already fucked your brains out.

And Leon's chest tightened, pushing his lips carelessly into your hot cheeks. He was always so sweet even when he was fucking you like you were a slut. His cock bullying your bruised pussy again and again, because he couldn't catch a break. You were the air he needed to feel alive.

You made him feel alive.

As alive as he was now, as his hips began to quiver and his thrusts became sloppy, feeling his cock contracting tightly inside your walls. He could lose his mind right now for you.

His fingers moved down to play with your painfully throbbing clit, you let out a high pitched moan and your walls tightened feeling the familiar euphoria explode inside you, your orgasm coming in a sloppy way. Your body immediately relaxed into the sheets, trying to recover, but Leon wouldn't slow down, not when he was so close too.

He released your clit to run a sticky hand up to one of your tits, kneading it as if it were his own anti-stress toy. He carelessly kissed your wet cheeks and his hips pushed all the way in, releasing all his seed inside you. His cock contracted and discounted with spasms, giving you all of him.

"I love you." He whispered weakly, hugging you and trying not to fall on top of you. His heart beating fast in his chest, beating for you.

Because Leon Scott Kennedy loves you more than anyone. And he would devote every day of the rest of his life to prove it to you, if you let him.

were there too many "I love you"s? haha, sorry! But I can't help but think that Leon really needs a lot of love.

Let me know if u liked this, thanks!! 🎀💗

bye, bye (💌)

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #re4 leon #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy smut

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causenessus · 3 months ago

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comforting you. | bungou stray dogs

inc. chuuya, dazai, ranpo, odasaku

written is second pov (no gendered pronouns used)

"you deserve this." by men i trust

word count: 4.6k words

notes/warnings: separate scenarios for each bsd man and how they comfort you when you’re feeling down, giving you both love and realistic advice. i feel like i bounced between writing generalized headcanons and hyperspecific scenarios, so i’m sorry but i hope you enjoy this <3 each of you is deserving of so much love and patience <3 you deserve to be here <3 each pairing is in an established relationship. also (relevant for odasku’s scenario), the orphans are still alive. my writing my universe. i'm actually beastzai in another au where everyone lives and is happy and everything is okay. use of pet names "sweetheart" (chuuya scenario) "angel" (dazai scenario) and "love" (oda). general hurt/comfort drabbles :) lmk if I should add anything! i would NOT consider this proofread because I read it half-asleep at midnight trying to edit it so forgive me for any mistakes 🙏

special shoutouts to @dorotheasdiary + @aouzi for hyping me up/listening to my rambles abt this work!! sorry for the tag </3

chuuya.

sometimes the urge to give up became too strong.

was it too much to ask time to stop for just one day? it seemed all your pleas to the sky were falling on deaf ears.

still, as all things do, you eventually lost the motivation to keep pushing forward on your own.

like a runner who trips upon a small pebble and can’t get back into their pace, slowly, slowly falling behind the others.

the one difference was that you had come to a complete stop. you'd never allowed yourself a break until you were completely burnt out; unable to move even a muscle.

you haven’t even made it out of bed the whole day.

the room was starting to feel sick and stuffy with how long you’d laid in those sheets that no longer seemed to provide any comfort. rather, you felt like you were simply dirtying the sheets by continuing to lie there, purposeless, useless.

you barely had it in you to call out of work before drifting back into a mundane sleep that you continued to wake up and fall back into for the better half of the day. you hadn’t looked at your phone after sending a quick text to your manager, unprepared for whatever kind of passive-aggressive response they'd messaged back with because of your late notice. the unknown was too much right now, you couldn't focus on anyone you couldn't read but yourself. you didn’t want to be around friends, family, or people out on the street, where your mind would run rapid laps around itself, trying to figure out what everyone thought of you.

at work, it was the same; sizing yourself up to your coworkers, figuring out how well-liked you were— how replaceable you would be if one day you suddenly up and dropped, or, more likely in your mind, you annoyed everyone enough that they let you go.

never really knowing what others thought terrified you. obviously it wasn't the norm despite living in a world filled with those gifted with abilities to be able to read another's mind but that didn’t mean your mind could simply let the anxieties go. your head always seemed to be buzzing, preoccupied with concerns about something.

which is why you had tried to block everything out, the moment you woke up this morning and every rustle of your legs tumbled in the sheets was too loud for your ears; a playlist of music on shuffle played softly from your phone nearby, giving your brain something mindless to focus on while you had your head pressed between pillows to deafen out the rest of the world.

you didn’t feel any better or any energized despite how much you had slept today, but at the very least, sleep often took you away from constantly having to listen to whatever your mind wanted to rave and overthink next.

'what time is it? have i even gotten up once today? i should at least walk around. clean up. i'll never be motivated to get out of bed like this—' there your head went, taking one simple question and turning it into spindles of chains to wrap around your throat.

but when you feel the mattress sink beside you, suddenly everything goes quiet. the sheets become just sheets again–not something you’re sinking into or dirtying. someone has opened the curtains, revealing an orange sunset outside, and something nice is playing from the speaker of your phone, you realize.

he is the only one who doesn’t make your head spin. he is your grounding anchor, the gravitational force keeping your feet planted on this earth, opening your eyes to the beauty of the world you couldn’t otherwise see due your own anxieties.

“you been here all day?” he must have snuck in without you even hearing him (which isn’t hard to believe, considering the cushions you’d just been pressing to both of your ears), even giving him enough time to change. chuuya’s hair is still in a loose ponytail and he wears that black choker around his neck as always, but he’s dressed in a white shirt and some sweatpants, his gloveless hands reaching out to rub circles in your back.

he’s bare with you, and that’s what you love most about him.

you’ve had you’re insecurities about not being good enough for him and anything else typical within a relationship, but he never leaves you wondering. he grabs your hand to keep you from floating away too far, getting lost in your own thoughts, often pulling you back into the moment, when you’re lying in bed with him on quiet nights, the sides of your faces only lit by a nearby warm bedside lamp. he’ll trace the side of your face, searching your eyes, asking, “where did you go?”

and you can’t always answer, but you know, every time he asks you this question, that at least you can tell him where you are now. you’re at home with him.

and this moment is no different, with his calloused hands gliding up and down your back, and you only let out a small whine, shuffling closer to him as best as you can with how tangled you are up in his sheets.

“what’s wrong?” he asks softly, head tilting towards you slightly as you shimmy closer. “how can i help, sweetheart?”

you like how clear he is. how he always tells you what he’s thinking. he never leaves anything up to interpretation, always silencing your thoughts before they can make an assumption and run far with it.

while in the beginning of your relationship, it was hard to always voice what you needed, you came to realize with time that when chuuya asked you what he could do to help, it wasn’t him pressuring you to tell him what was wrong. it was simply how his head worked; he wanted you to be clear about what you needed. if that meant talking out your problems, he would listen. if that meant leaving you alone, he’d give you as much time as you needed (albeit probably checking in at some points just to make sure you didn’t need anything, it was just his nature to care for you). but all in all, he just needed you to talk to him. he would talk to you, you would talk to him. that's how miscommunication was prevented. your mind always felt so clear when you were around him because of how rationally he seemed to think of everything—all you had to do was follow his lead, and everything else came easily. things were never sugar-coated between the two of you, they were said plain and simple. (and with how charming he was, chuuya’s words often ended up being just as sweet as sugar anyway, not even needing to be wrapped up in some false front. when he said “i love you,” it was something clear. a fact, not something said just to appease you or mellow things out, he said it because he meant it).

and how refreshing it was, being lost in a sea of your own murky, unclear thoughts based off of assumptions upon assumptions, to be pulled from that ocean to the shoreline and be promised that the sun would rise again.

eventually, opening up to him became easier. even thought it sometimes took a few hours, you always ended up telling him what was on your mind and he waited patiently every time. he only ever listened unless you asked for more, and he never invalidated your feelings. trusting that he was just going to listen to you, it began to take even less time to prepare yourself to open up. it became as easy as taking a sip of water; something you had to do voluntarily, but was still needed, healing, and often refreshing.

the pitch of your voice slightly heightens as you hum a “yes” in response to his question, curling up closer to him, and his fingers have found their way into your hair, combing through it. “got tired of everything,” you whisper softly, resting your forehead against the side of his thigh, thankful for his contact.

“yeah? i’m sure you did, baby. you’re doing a lot. it’s good to take a break every now and then. anything in particular spur you to take the day off? there’s no shame in just deciding to take a rest day for the hell of it either, though,” he speaks as gently as his actions, shifting slightly on the bed so that you can rest more comfortably, your head now laying in his lap, and he brushes your hair out of your face as you look up at him and his pretty bangs framing his face as he leans down towards you.

you hum in thought at the question, searching your brain for the answer. was there something that had triggered you to break today? or was it just the build-up of it all? “not really anything in particular,” you shrug slightly, still admiring his golden-brown eyes, hooded and soft, gazing into your own, “just felt like everything came toppling down today. i’ve just been thinking too much about what others think of me. i don’t feel that important to the world, or my job. i’m easily replaceable–nothing special–and yet i have to keep fighting for this job. i have to fight to occupy space for myself in the world when i never even asked to be here in the first place. —and of course you make everything better but i mean–you know me. you’re good to me. you’re too good to me. and sometimes i can’t understand why you waste all of that goodness in you on me.” by the time you’re finished, he’s gently lifted your head out of his lap to lay down on his side next to you, continuing to face you the entire time.

you finish your long-winded explanation of unreasonable worries, and he only stares into your face, and you begin to shift under his eyes uncomfortably. his head his propped up in his hands, and he wears a small smile on his face, eyes flicking every few moments to focus on a different part of your face. “...chuu?” you whisper his name quietly, and his smile only grows.

“sorry, got too caught up admiring your pretty face,” he apologizes, and there he goes again, being so honest it makes your heart squeeze sometimes. he shifts his position slightly, reaching out his free hand to intertwine his slender fingers with yours, gently pressing the pads of his fingertips against your own, playing with them. “well, first of all, don’t think of your life through the lens that you are now. you can’t control or read anyone else’s mind, and that’s okay. people make a lot of irrational decisions anyway, it’s impossible to predict what someone will do, so don’t worry about what they think. what makes how they perceive you or what they think more correct than what you feel? they could be totally wrong about something, and they are if they think you’re replaceable, or bad, or whatever. don’t make yourself smaller for anyone else. you’re so smart and thoughtful and if anyone makes you feel bad about who you are, i’ll talk shit back to them, alright?”

you nod at his words but don’t meet his attempt to lighten the mood, only shifting closer again, hiding your face in his chest, breathing in his scent. his hand is back on your head, keeping you close while combing through your hair. “i think you're perfect as you are, [y/n]. i wouldn't want you any other way. you're the only thing on my mind all the time and you’re all i think about—if you're worried about what goes through my mind. i'll always be here for you, i'll be right behind you even if the world is against you. all you need is me, i’d burn everything to the ground for you in a heartbeat."

dazai.

as a kid, you quickly learned not to fight back.

others were allowed to be angry and lash out, but when you did the same, it was wrong wrong wrong.

when you were young, you learned that love was conditional.

there was no understanding when it came to your emotions. no matter the kind of day that you had you were still expected to always be kind and patient, and never yell back.

to be loved–or rather, to simply survive in this world, you had to be the smaller person; never expect someone to love you for who you are, but because they like that you’re agreeable, quiet, and passive. never expect anyone to care about how you feel, no matter how close of a friend they are.

and surely, you couldn’t expect any kind of empathy from a coworker.

but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, and you could feel the way your chest contracted, suffocating with you, every time you were the brunt of kunikida’s critiques. there was no middle between letting the man belittle you to a husk of your former self or the scariest option of all: say something and risk your dynamic with him worsening even more.

setting boundaries and speaking your mind had never been things that came easy to you, as admitting that something was wrong in your relationship with someone always seemed to leave a gaping hole in the relationship that would always be prevalent, at least to you. telling someone who seemed to be unaware of how unkind their words were “you’re hurting me” seemed to always make things awkward between you and the other party. they realized they could no longer throw you around and every time they left, you couldn't help but think you should've dealt with it and kept your mouth shut.

so you smile and nod along to whatever kunikida’s ordering you to do next, fake laughing when he says something about how important the job is and to make sure you don’t fail, as if such an option was even possible. you had never messed up anything he asked you to do, and with how long he went on about the importance of the job, you never planned to. but his ending words always reminded you of how little your efforts seemed to matter to him. he would never trust you or see you as anything better than just a little office worker to dump work on.

your face drops as soon as the man turns his back to you, and you let out a quiet sigh before returning to the laptop in front of you before hands upon your shoulders scare you.

“caught you!” a voice pops up from behind you, making you exclaim, jumping in your seat, whipping your head around to see a familiar brown-haired man. he was always causing problems for kunikida and getting scolded, and yet he seemed to be able to take everything as a light-hearted joke. he came into work every day with a smile on his face and new ways to irritate kunikida, while you couldn’t see yourself ever returning to this office if that man yelled at you the way he yelled at the boy in front of you even once.

“dazai! you scared me,” your eyes follow him as he slides into the chair next to you, slightly rolling away from you with how he’d launched himself into the seat. “what did you…catch?” you ask, watching as he scoots closer back to you again, resting his cheek on a bandaged arm atop of the oak desk you both sit at.

“now, now. let's not try and act all innocent. why are you letting him talk to you like that if it hurts you?” he asks with a smile, while your face only pales, your heart completely freezing up the moment you hear the question you fear most. you have to tear your eyes away before he sees through you anymore, and you look down into your lap, where you’re picking at your fingers. if dazai noticed it, surely others did. had kunikida been able to read your face? had you offended him because you refused to communicate your true feelings with him? maybe you seemed like a stuck-up individual in his eyes if he could tell that you were faking with him, and you weren’t sure if him believing that lie or finding out the truth would be worse.

“well i…” you trail off when his fingers come into your line of sight, intertwining them with yours, stopping you from the bad habit.

“have i ever gotten upset with you for very understandably getting annoyed at my endless antics? have we ever disagreed on something we absolutely refused to resolve? no to both. but are humans creatures of imperfection by nature? have we all made mistakes? yes, and that’s why they’re able to forgive each other unless they’re insufferably stuck up. but don’t let your head turn kunikida into a monster he’s not. he’ll understand if you ask him to speak to you less directly, or with more belief in you. he’s giving you these jobs because he trusts you, you know. he just rambles on about the importance of them because that’s who he is. you know that, and you know him. you know he’ll work to treat others with the respect they deserve, you just have to tell him so first. but he’s not going to get mad at you,” your eyes flick up from where he’s running a thumb along your knuckles up to him, only to find him already looking at you with those warm hazel brown eyes of his. he’s right, and it feels nice to be seen and not bashed for your true feelings. instead, you're being understood. under his gaze, you no longer feel weak for how sensitive or emotional you may feel. he’s looking at you like you’re worth something, worth enough that you can fight for yourself, worth enough to deserve to be comfortable in your relationships, rather than used by those near you.

“thank you,” you mumble, and he’s pulled you close by the wheels of your own chair, your knees knocking as one of his hands reach up to caress the back of your neck, soothing you further as you continue to look at him.

his lips are still curved into a smile, not the trickster one he wears as he comes up with his next plot to harass kunikida, but a soft, genuine one, like he loves and cares about you, without you even asking anything of him. maybe this is what love is; being looked at and known, without even having to open your mouth.

“of course, angel,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against the back of your scalp, “bring it up while atsuhi or i are around if you want, we’ll help you explain how you feel. you’re not alone, you never were and you never have to be."

ranpo.

ranpo’s heightened abilities to observe, infer, and understand go far past anything related to his detective work.

the first time he found you feeling down and wanted to comfort you, he defaulted to what he knows helps him feel better (i.e. sweet treats, dim lights, warm, quiet environments). the entire time, while his hand is on your back, rubbing it soothingly as you lean against him, soft cries muffled by the blanket he’s placed over you, his brain is running the entire time with what he can do best to support you; did you like what he brung you? do you prefer to isolate yourself or do you like the company when you’re feeling down? blankets or no blankets? do you want him to talk to you and try to provide a distraction or is just being there for you what you need? touch, or no touch?

ranpo is so attentive to your needs. whatever you want and is best for you, he will get you and do for you. he gives all thanks to fukuzawa, for helping him realize not everyone sees the world the way he does, all those years ago. since then, he’s learned to be more responsive, emotionally thoughtful, and soft-hearted in his responses if that’s that what you need. but if you want to hear logic and how he’s rationalizing out your situation, he can do that, too. again, he is completely willing to bend and shape himself to your needs. the only thing he will always push for is to be in a room with you when you’re feeling down, even if you don’t want company </3

he knows when you really need to be alone, but he doesn’t like to let you be on your own for too long. he’ll always be in the next room over if you need anything, quietly pacing the room, only worried and thinking of you and if he can do anything more for you. if you’re curled up in bed all night, he’ll eventually knock on the door to ask if he can sleep with you and keep you company. he wholeheartedly believes letting other people help you and be there for you helps, especially to prevent you from spiraling down any pits of despair or insecurity. he wants you to know how much he cares about you and your wellbeing, he wants to be there to hold you close, press gentle kisses to your head, and murmur promises that he’ll never ever leave you alone.

but if you say no to company, he is happy to sleep on the couch and will be up the moment you call his name if you need something or decide you do want company. he is there completely for you always and whenever, and all of it comes from a place of love. he’ll never push you to do anything or tell him anything you don’t want to, and he’ll try not to infer anything even if he knows he could use context clues to find out exactly what’s upsetting you. he knows you’ll tell him when you’re ready if you want to, and it’s never his job to be in your business. his only responsibility is to love you and make sure you know it <3

oda.

you’ve never been great at facing your own problems, and you’re even worse at facing others in your time of struggle. it feels impossible to rely upon anyone, no matter how close they are to you.

sakunosuke oda is a selfless man, always taking care of others, putting their wellbeing above his own. he took in five orphans despite knowing the increased risk to his own safety that would come with taking care of them, and he still chose to do it despite not having a place of his own to take care of them at. he gives half of his wage as one of the lowest-ranking members of the port mafia to the kids every time he receives his salary and he’s never once deviated from the habit.

you know he’d drop everything for you if you told him what was wrong, but you couldn’t do that to him. it didn’t feel that serious. and worst of all, telling him how you were feeling would only cause him to cut his job short and then he’d be standing there with you while you continued to wallow in misery; of course his presence would help you feel better, but it wouldn’t immediately solve everything.

it wasn’t worth it. was your justification as you slipped out of your shared apartment. it wasn’t worth telling someone else how you were feeling, because they couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t even figure out for yourself what was wrong. you had to make your existence worth it instead, then. the best way you found, to distract yourself from your feelings and make sure they remained pushed down, was by helping others. no one whose in need of help often asks how others are truly doing, and you like that about them.

you don’t tell him where you’re going. you have nothing to hide; you just don’t want to worry him. you’ll tell him if he asks, but for now, you’re on your own.

but what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t know you? if he hadn’t memorized and kissed every mole, freckle, and blemish adorning your body? he knew you better than you realized, although you could never fully accept the fact that he paid attention to you, remembered your likes and dislikes, and knew your habits and routines like the back of his hand, all just because he loves you.

and when he comes home from work to an empty house, searching for any traces of you, he’s not worried. he has an idea of where you are and he knows that all he needs to do is text you, if he's curious. and he doesn’t immediately push his assumptions onto you about why you might be out and where; he knows you can take care of yourself and that you’ll communicate your needs to him. so when he texts you, it's not that he's demanding that you come home or ot tell him your whereabouts. rather, his texts are just to let you know he cares and is waiting for you at home.

sakunosuke ♡ : i’m home, just wanted to let you know

sakunosuke ♡ : text me if you need anything. and be safe

if he sees that you haven’t at least read his message within an hour or if he just can't wait to see you when you get home, whenever that may be, he already knows where to find you nine times out of 10. he’ll text the owner of his favorite curry shop, asking him if he’s seen you while already on his way down to the restaurant.

it's usually where he can find you there when you’re feeling down; braiding sakura’s hair, folding their laundry, coloring with one of the boys, helping out downstairs in the kitchen, or wherever else you can find a place to keep yourself busy. he knows that you’re always like this when you’re upset, and if you won’t take the day off to take care of yourself, then he will do it for you happily and well. he won’t even try to pull you away from what you’re doing–he’ll simply sit down with you, grabbing his own colored pencil while making small talk with the kids, giving you a small smile when you realize he's come into the room. or suddenly he’s next to you, helping you carry and hang up laundry, or drying off the dishes you’re washing.

and then before you know it, you’re walking home with him, hand in hand, a plastic bag rustling in his free one. you’ve both stopped to get food on the way home, and once you make it there, he’s immediately sitting you down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “let me do everything, love.” he’ll help you out of your clothes into something more comfortable, holding your hair back while you wash your face and clean up, he’ll pull your chair out for you as you sit back down, and run a hand through your hair, keeping any stray strands out of your face as you eat.

outside of the house, you can bury your feelings as much as you want to and work to please others, but at home with him, you’re the focus. you’re the one who’s honored and worshipped in the house. sakunosuke’s not letting you lift a finger if he can help it, and you can’t get away with continuing to ignore your feelings when his only desire is to help you.

and you’ll tell him what’s bothering you when you’re ready. he knows that after how long you both have been together. and so in the meantime, he’ll wait patiently, showering you with all the love in the world. ♡

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cuntressgoingdigital · 6 months ago

Text

BAD HABIT | abby anderson x reader - college au!!

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you catch abby's eye during class and she becomes determined to make you her's. unfortunately, she can't bring herself to just outright admit her feelings, forcing herself through weeks of yearning and agony.

notes: i have been sitting on this since early october. finally finished it up! gets kinda rambly midway through. can you tell i love writing abby as a gay loser? titled after bad habit by steve lacy :P

cw: 18+ content MDNI, reader referred to as a girl, alcohol ment, dom! reader (if you squint), inexperienced! abby, no smut technically (but def not sfw), abby doesn't know how to communicate

word count: 4.9k

it was abby’s final year of college. she was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. the last three years had been a horrendous rollercoaster of trials and tribulations. all of her classes were rigorous and extremely involved. it felt like she never slept, ate, or had any time to herself. she had a couple friends, but nothing too serious. in reality, they were probably closer to acquaintances. she made the mistake of following her boyfriend halfway across the country to attend the same college as him. all of her friends were his friends and their breakup, while semi-amicable, set her back as far as friendships go.

it wasn’t that she wasn’t good at making friends, she just didn’t have the time. making friends in your senior year of college was its own special beast. nobody wants to go out of their way to foster new friendships because of their temporary nature. everyone was applying for grad school, hoping to get as far away from home as possible. living off campus isolates you, ripping you away from the forced community that comes with living in a dormitory.

none of that mattered. abby was perfectly fine by her lonesome.

she had never felt compelled to establish a connection until she stepped foot into her french romantic literature class. everyone called it a gimme class. do the readings, write your reviews and reports, easy A. it was a low level class and she needed the elective credit, so why not? it was an 8AM, but she had dealt with worse.

she was setting up her ipad and pencil when she felt someone brush past the back of her chair. she looked up and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. she swears she had never seen a girl more beautiful than you. it felt like one of those cheesy rom coms where all the sound in the room dropped out, the entire world slowed, and your smile lit up the room.

“sorry!” you whispered, making your way a few chairs down and getting as comfortable as possible on those horrid plastic chairs.

every day for two weeks she just watched you from afar. abby perked up every time you raised your hand to give insight on that week’s readings. you were intimidatingly smart. everything you said, she couldn’t have possibly come up with. she hadn’t missed a single day of class so far.

but, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to you. a simple “hi, nice to meet you” wouldn’t cut it. she didn’t want to come off as creepy or nonchalant. she needed a plan.

one day you had left your bag open on your desk and abby caught a glimpse of a novel. it wasn’t one of the books that was required reading for class. was it a leisure read? immediately, she looked up the title and read the synopsis.

she couldn’t fathom any way to make a book sound less interesting.

alas, at this point she was committed.

that afternoon, during a small break between classes, she made her way to the library. after wandering on one of the floors for too long, she finally found the novel in question. the plan was to read it, hope that you left your bag open again, and ask about it after class. simple enough.

she took the elevator down to the first floor and brought the book up to the check out desk. there was no one behind the desk and she wondered if she should come back later.

“sorry!”

abby knew that voice.

you sauntered out from the hidden staff area behind the desk. abby felt stupid for letting her crush affect her like this. her face was hot, she had to make a concerted effort to breathe evenly, and suddenly she forgot how to socialize. all she could do was stiffly set the book on the desk.

“aren’t you in my class? french romantic lit, right?” you took the book in your hands and flipped it to the back cover to scan the barcode on the corner.

“uh, yeah. i think so?” she had never felt more awkward in her life, sliding her student ID across the desk.

“well, it’s nice to meet you…” you pick up the plastic card and read over it. “abby.”

there was a quiet beep and abby stood there awkwardly trying to think of something to say. “have you read this book before?” she blurted out. “i just…the reviews seemed to be pretty split. people either love it or hate it, y’know?”

a smile stretched across your face. you were clearly more than delighted to give your thoughts, recommendations for other books, and authors who had a similar writing style. abby thought your enthusiasm was adorable. she had absolutely no clue what you were talking about, but was happy you got to share your ideas with her.

she cleared her throat. “i guess i’ll give you my thoughts after class one day?”

you nod excitedly. “i would really love that.”

abby collected her items and turned on her heel to leave the library. she felt accomplished, only to realize a few moments later,

fuck.

she didn’t even ask for your name.

that night abby started the novel. she was determined to finish before she saw you again on wednesday. homework was suddenly tossed onto the backburner. her childish crush took precedent. for the next day and a half she did nothing but read this novel, even going as far as making annotations and talking points for you.

she woke up bright and early on wednesday. the sun was hanging lowly in the sky. she couldn’t go back to sleep even if she wanted to. she drug her body out of bed and pulled on a black tshirt and grey sweatpants for her early morning workout. she preferred to get her workout out of the way during the early morning hours to avoid the crowd of people in her apartment’s rec center and lower her chances of social interaction.

her workout was a little more rushed than usual. she wanted to make sure she looked well put together when she approached you after class. she was meticulous with her shower routine, pairing the scent of her body wash with her lotions and deodorant. pine and amber with a hint of lavender. next was her hair that she braided and re-braided at least three times in front of her slightly fogged up bathroom mirror. she peeked at her phone and noticed it was way later than she thought. she ripped a black short sleeve button up and olive green corduroy pants off of their hanger and slipped on some shoes before she ran off to the bus stop.

she made it into the classroom right as the professor was reading off the first slide. the feeling of several pairs of eyes on her was unbearable.

for the entire seventy five minutes of class she could only stare at you. you were feverishly typing on your laptop while also scribbling something down in your notebook. the clock seemed to tick slower than usual.

“alright, that covers everything i wanted to address today. i’ll let y’all out a few minutes early. go enjoy the weather outside.”

abby couldn’t pack up faster. she prayed you weren’t in any kind of rush.

“hey!”

abby spun around to see your face. thank god, you had approached her. this eliminated the possibility of her chickening out.

“oh, hey!” this had thrown off abby’s entire script. “sorry i ran off yesterday. i didn’t catch your name?”

you chuckled at the realization. you hadn’t noticed either. after you properly introduced yourself, abby offered a “nice to officially meet you.”

you waste no time getting to your initial reason for approaching her. “did you start the book?”

the sound of your voice had butterflies swarming about in her stomach.

“yeah, i finished it actually.”

you slung your backpack over your shoulders. “which way are you going?”

the two of you set off in the direction of the coffee shop on campus. abby went over her talking points and luckily you two shared a lot of the same ideas about the themes and writing style of the book. abby made a mental note to read more of your recommendations.

the coffee shop was coming up on the horizon and abby had already completely derailed her walk to her next class. she had to wrap this up.

“did you maybe wanna study together sometime? you looked really into today’s lecture.” was that a weird thing to say? now it sounded like she was watching your every move.

she was.

but, that wasn’t your business.

“oh god, no. i hated this week’s reading. way too dense and the translation was clunky.” your head dropped in embarrassment. “i was actually playing sudoku.”

god, you were the cutest thing.

“dinner, then?” she ground her fingernails into the fabric of her backpack straps. “i just think it would be nice to have someone to talk about the homework with.” there was a beat of silence and immediately she felt the need to backtrack “it’s okay if not! i’m sure you’re busy and all.”

“dinner sounds fun! i can do tonight? maybe around seven?”

the two of you exchanged phone numbers and abby said a quick goodbye before rushing off in the opposite direction, praying she wasn’t late to her next class.

you mentally high fived yourself. you had only made one friend during your time at college and that was your first year dorm roommate. she was great and all, but a senior with only one friend felt sort of pathetic. you were positive the two of you only ended up being friends because of your forced close proximity. you both loved each other to death, but you weren’t so sure you would have found each other otherwise.

this time you made a friend all on your own. well, maybe you two weren’t quite friends yet, but you’d try your damndest to make your friendship status official. she was nice enough so far.

and really pretty.

like, really pretty.

an hour or so later, abby sent a text with a link to a restaurant menu. you couldn’t help but open the message immediately.

abby a.: is this good?

you clicked on the link and your eyes grew wide. this was one of the places you would only eat at for special occasions. the cheapest entree was thirty dollars. there was no way you could afford that. you were a full time student living off of your need based scholarship and the meager wages you received from your work study job. if you looked you would probably see double digits in your checking account.

you: this looks rlly nice but idk if i’ll be able to afford it

you: i’m srry!!

before you could lock your phone, the grey bubble appeared again.

abby a.: don’t worry i invited you. i’ll grab the check.

the idea of being indebted to her made you uneasy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disagree with her. you didn’t want to seem high maintenance.

your 8AM was your only class of the day, so in normal fashion you gallivanted around campus and sat in front of the library, people watching, until your shift started. the older woman who worked the same desk shift as you helped you on the daily crossword, forcing the time to pass faster.

it was a little more than an hour before you and abby were supposed to meet up when your phone vibrated.

abby a.: i’ll pick you up. send me your address.

you had fully intended to take the twenty minute bus ride over to the restaurant. you knew the bus routes like the back of your hand on account of you not owning a car. it wasn’t as bad as everyone made it out to be.

abby pulled up at 7PM on the dot. once you received the “outside” text you grabbed your bag from it’s designated hook near the door.

“where ya goin’?”

you looked back to see your best friend and roommate, liz.

“dinner.”

“like a date?”

“nah. just some girl from my class.” your hand reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open. “i’ll see you!”

“have fun. make good choices!” she called out before you could shut the door behind you.

you peered around the parking lot, trying to find her car. you pulled your phone from your bag and unlocked it, preparing to call abby to play hot and cold until you found her. then, you heard a voice call your name.

abby was hanging out the sunroof of her car, waving at you. you approached her car and caught the brand sigil on the front grille. it was a BMW. you didn’t know much about cars, but you knew those were expensive. you opened the doors to see a custom leather interior and a high tech touch screen on the center console. it felt like you weren’t even allowed to sit down in this car.

“hey, sorry it’s kind of messy.”

there were maybe a dozen crumbs on the floor mats and a couple straw wrappers in the cup holder.

“if this is messy for you, you’d hate to see my room.” you awkwardly tried to laugh off the tension you felt. “nice car.”

abby moved the gear shift into drive and started to pull out of the parking lot. “yeah, it’s an early graduation present. i was hoping for something a little more practical. like a subaru or something.” she immediately bit her tongue. she probably sounded so stuck up right now. “i mean, this is perfectly fine! i just…what if i have some furniture to move, y’know?”

smooth recovery.

“no, no i get it!” you, in fact, did not get it. you would kill to be able to drive yourself across town and not have to haul your groceries along with you on the bus.

abby’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “you can take aux if you want.” she motioned to the wire hanging out of the charging port.

this was one of the worst things you could ever hear. now you had to carefully curate a few songs to last the duration of the short drive. shuffling your liked songs would surely end in embarrassment and you couldn’t tell what music abby would be into. you haphazardly queued a couple songs and analyzed every change in abby’s face, trying to decipher whether she liked the songs or not. to your delight she began humming along to one of the songs.

“didn’t expect you to be into this sort of music.”

abby shrugged. “i’m full of surprises, i guess.”

you made small talk about your major and your class load for the semester. all of the typical stuff you go over with anyone you meet in a college town. then, you discussed plans for grad school.

“i think i’m gonna take a year or two off and travel for a while. see the world and all that.” you picked up on the way abby’s eyes sparkled when she talked about it.

“what are you gonna do about money and stuff?” finally, you had an excuse to ask how rich she was.

“my dad’s a neurosurgeon. he rolled right through undergrad into medical school with no time off. he wants me to take some time and find myself. make sure i’m committed to whatever my next step is.”

you wordlessly nodded. the puzzle pieces fell into place. now you were almost embarrassed about not being well off. what could you possibly have in common with some uppity rich girl?

once the two of you started talking over dinner, it seemed like you actually had a lot in common. you both held a passion for the same movies, had slight overlap with your music taste, and held similar political beliefs. you had judged her a little too fast. you let her go on about her coin collection and in exchange she let you beak into a tangent about your hobbies. before you knew it one of the servers came up to your table.

“hey folks, i brought the check over for you. take your time.”

you were mortified when you saw it was thirty minutes after close. if your server hadn’t practically run off you would’ve offered an apology.

you instinctively peeked at the check and saw three digits. your shock must’ve been obvious as abby snatched the receipt holder from you.

“i told you, i’ve got it.” she put down a heavy metal card and you were once again reminded about the difference in your tax brackets.

dinner had gone so well it became a weekly endeavor. every wednesday you met up with her so she could show you a couple different spots around town. every time she paid the bill before you could even say anything. whenever you mentioned wanting to read some newly released book that the library hadn’t ordered yet, she would shyly present it to you the next time you two saw each other. weekly dinner dates turned into coffee dates between classes, which turned into study dates at home. she learned your coffee order and work schedule so she could occasionally pop into the library while you were working and deliver you a treat. you became inseparable rather quickly. often walking hand in hand across campus after your seminar.

liz caught you smiling at your phone and peered over your shoulder.

“hey, hey! what happened to privacy?” you scolded.

liz looked you up and down. “what’s going on between you two? always texting, always facetiming, always hanging out.”

“nothing! we’re just friends.”

it was clear she didn’t believe you. “there’s no fucking way y’all are ‘just friends’.”

“i can be just friends with a girl!”

“mhm. sure, sure.” liz left you to study (read: spend your entire night texting back and forth with abby).

that night when you laid in bed, you finally gave your relationship some thought. were you two “just friends”? you were used to burying your semi-romantic thoughts about your female friends. that had been your MO ever since you discovered you were gay. you tried not to think about abby in that way. you were so excited to make a new friend, you couldn’t bear potentially ruining things with those thoughts.

you two were just close friends. that’s it.

that’s all it would ever be.

abby a.: goodnight see you in the morning <3

unbeknownst to you, abby was also spiraling about your relationship. had the little heart been too much? she was trying so hard to be subtle. either you were completely uninterested or she wasn’t being obvious enough. what was she supposed to say? “i think i have a crush on you” was way too forward. what if you didn’t feel the same way? now she would look like an idiot and have to bear the next couple months showing up to the same class as you three times a week.

even worse, you were the first girl abby had ever properly pursued. her breakup with owen forced her to finally contemplate if she ever actually loved him. well, of course she loved him, but was she ever in love with him? after a month she had decided it had never been the latter. that had been nearly a year ago and in that time she had never actually made an effort to seek a relationship with anyone romantically. she made out with girls at parties, hooked up with one girl months ago, but this was different. she wanted your dinner dates to be real dates. to sleep with you in her arms. post you on her story with a caption that said ‘my girlfriend is so beautiful’.

how the fuck was she going to make this work?

she laid awake drafting different text messages and formulating different scenarios where it would be appropriate for her to confess to you.

that weekend abby invited you over for a sleepover. nothing too crazy. just wine, takeout, and a movie. the hour it took for you to respond was possibly the worst hour of her life.

you: omg sounds fun!! i’ll finish up my work at 8?

abby breathed a sigh of relief. she spent the next several hours stress cleaning. her entire house was pristine by the time she was meant to pick you up.

confessing to you over text almost felt disrespectful. the wine would compensate for her intense fear of rejection. if you didn’t reciprocate, she’d just politely call you an uber and that would be that. the prospect of ignoring her feelings for you until the end of the semester trumped her fear of having to be in the same classroom with a girl who rejected her.

she just couldn’t take it anymore.

when she pulled into the driveway of your apartment she saw that you were already waiting outside, a small duffel bag in hand.

you happily trotted over to her car and hopped in. the seat was perfectly adjusted for you as always. you took over aux without abby prompting you to.

you always got the passenger princess treatment.

abby listened to you tell her every intricate detail of your day. the dog you got to pet on campus, how the coffee shop messed up your order and you were too scared to tell them, and the crossword you weren’t able to finish because your usual coworker wasn’t on shift.

while she was happy to listen to you, all she could think about was the fact that this may be the last time she got to hear your daily musings.

“you okay, babe?”

the hairs on the back of her neck always stood up when she heard you call her that.

“i’m fine. just thinking about this assignment i forgot to finish.”

“i can help you when we get home. as long as it’s not your orgo chem class. you’re on your own with that.”

no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you could feel the tension in the air. something was off, but you couldn’t tell what. abby was speaking less and just seemed out of it in general. every time you asked if she was okay it was always the same

“i’m okay. don’t worry.”

you brush it off and carry on with the night as if all was normal. you ordered chinese food from your favorite hole in the wall restaurant and plopped down on her couch. it took you thirty minutes to decide on a movie, the two of you debating the pros and cons of every option. it didn’t take long for the food to be delivered and after abby gave you permission to eat on the couch you dug into your food.

“is this your first meal of the day?” abby knew you were terrible at taking care of yourself. not that she was much better.

“shut up.” you uttered through the food in your mouth.

a few minutes into the movie, abby offers you a blanket which you eagerly take. you rest your legs over her lap and lay back against one of the throw pillows. abby almost felt wrong touching you. she had plans to irrevocably change your relationship before the night was over.

would you be able to stay friends with her after?

“do you want wine? i figured rosé would be a safe choice.”

you affirmatively hummed, prompting abby to rush off into her dark kitchen. she just needed a few moments to breathe.

“can i ask a stupid question?” you called from the living room.

abby felt the need to dry heave. “maybe.” was all she could offer as a response.

there was a few moments of uncertain silence before you spoke again. “liz is convinced we’re like…dating, or something? is there something going on between us?”

you were always so forward. it was a trait of yours that abby admired. except this time.

like the day you first spoke after class, you had completely derailed her scripts and scenarios.

“i…don’t know?” the question had her hands shaking so bad she couldn’t pull the cork out of the wine bottle.

you hummed once more. “i don’t know either.”

the movie filled the uneasy silence between the two of you. abby was panicking and you surprisingly weren’t.

“i think i like you.” you were the first to break the silence. “wait, that sounded really childish. i just…you know what i mean.”

finally, abby could exhale.

“i’m sorry. did i make things weird?”

abby rushed back into the living room and saw you cocooned in her blanket, partially shielding your face from her.

“holy fuck. no, no!” she tripped over her words, trying to skip to whatever part of the script she intended to use for this exact moment. finally, she cleared her throat. “that’s kind of why i approached you the first time. i mean, i’m glad we became friends!” once again, she felt the need to backtrack. “when i first saw you in class i thought you were really pretty. i’ve been trying to work up the nerve to say this from the first time we met.”

you finally met her gaze. abby was shocked to hear you giggle. “that’s sweet.” you reached out for her, beckoning her to come sit next to you. “i wish i had known. you’re always acting so mysterious about your feelings.” you teased.

you sat up and loosely wrapped your arms around her shoulders. “so…was your plan to corner me here and bombard me with your confession?”

“okay, it sounds weird when you say it like that.” how had you read her intentions so accurately?

“i don’t hear any denial.” abby refused to answer. she had suffered enough tonight. “enlighten me, what was your plan if i said i liked you back?”

abby shrugged. she really hadn’t expected to get this far. she spent more time planning for a rejection than reciprocity.

you leaned into her. “well, i think you should kiss me.”

abby had been dreaming of this moment. quite literally. whenever she had vaguely scandalous dreams it was always about you. she’d wanted this for so long and here she was awkwardly fumbling as she pressed her lips against yours.

you delicately brushed a few fly away hairs behind her ear and leaned into the kiss. you could feel the hesitance in abby’s body language and knew you’d have to be the captain of the ship for the time being. you closed the space between the two of you, now chest to chest.

“you don’t have to be nervous.” you whispered in her ear while you moved to straddle her lap.

abby placed her hands firmly at your hips, finally working up the courage to just touch you. the movie was long forgotten when she lost herself in your kiss. her hand made it halfway up your shirt before she broke the kiss.

“is that okay?”

you giggled against her lips. “yeah, have at it.”

the joking tone eased her mind and emboldened her. her hand found its way fully under the fabric of your shirt, cupping your left breast. her thumb brushed against your nipple, making you sharply inhale. you grinded down against her crotch and abby whimpered against your lips.

you couldn’t tell how much time had passed. the both of you were feeling sensitive and hot all over. you were desperate to draw those sweet mewls out of her.

“okay, fuck this movie.” all at once you pulled away from her. abby looked like she could’ve cried at your sudden absence. “do you wanna…like…”

“yeah,” she took a moment to catch her breath. “yeah. the bedroom is this way.” she took your hand and led you past the kitchen to her bedroom that was bathed in moonlight from the wall length windows. she rushed to close the curtains before she pulled her shirt off, revealing her black sports bra. you took her hand and collapsed against her bed, tugging her down with you.

your fingers reached for the string of her sweatpants, working them down her thighs and tossing them to the side.

“have you done this before?” you whispered in between kisses to her neck and collarbones.

“sort of. a while ago.”

“well i’m happy to give you a refresher course.” you flipped abby onto her back so you could be on top. “just relax.” you hooked your fingers into the waistband of her boxers and pulled her thighs apart.

the sex lasted for an absurdly long time. for a beginner, abby was surprisingly adept. she was a quick learner. by the end of it, neither of you had the energy to go back to the movie. you slept soundly in her arms, not even bothering to redress.

the next morning you were harshly pulled from your sleep by an alarm. it was saturday. there was no way it was your phone.

abby shot straight up in bed and hastily pulled her phone off of the nightstand.

“fuck. i’m sorry. i forgot i have rugby practice.” she leapt out of bed and started digging through her closet for fresh workout clothes. “for the record, i had plans to make you breakfast and everything. the whole nine yards.”

you stretched out in her bed, missing her warmth. “oh, i’m sure.”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #nisa writes #leaving it open ended so i have an excuse to write rugby captain abby #i will be terrorizing yall with more college au #idk i kinda hate this but i wrote it so its getting posted #divider by cafekitsune

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totalswag · 11 months ago

Text

heartbreak — RAFE CAMERON

authors note cheaters suck.

summary a week after finding out your boyfriend cheated on you with a girl from his college, your friends invite you to a bonfire. when rafe finds out about the breakup he gets upset.

warnings cheating, crying, cursing, anger, overprotective!rafe

You sat at the edge of the bed, running your hands through your hair, tears streaming down your face, wondering what you had done to deserve to be treated this way by someone you thought loved you unconditionally.

It started off with you on your bed, phone in hand, browsing instagram. A photo captured your eye and made your stomach sank. It was a photo of Lucas, your boyfriend, with a girl from school. They were at an event at the University of North Carolina, arms around each other and beaming warmly.

Lucas goes to University of North Carolina for school and football; one of the stars on the team. You stayed home at a community college then transfer to a four year afterwards.

Early today, you were scrolling through instagram like you typically do when you have nothing else to do. Your gut told you to go through Lucas following, so you did. Came across a girl name, Emily.

You clicked on her profile, your heart beating faster with each passing second. There were further images of her and Lucas, some more intimate than others. You had a dreadful twist in your gut as you went through the comments and captions.

"You've got to be kidding me" you mumbled under your breath in disbelief in what you were seeing.

Lucas had never mentioned Emily before, certainly not in a way that said they were more than friends. Your eyes began to sting with the fear of tears.

For the past few weeks, your boyfriend, Lucas, of two years has been acting strange towards you and taking hours to respond to your texts and calls. You started feeling like something was up before you went to visit him at college.

Lucas was home for the summer, and you knew you had to approach him about it. You couldn't keep the treachery inside you any longer. You took a long breath to calm yourself down, then texted him to come over. Within an hour, he was at your door, smiling and entirely ignorant of the storm rising inside you.

"Hey, babe," he said, leaning in for a kiss. You moved your head, and his lips brushed across your cheek instead.

"We need to talk," you said, your voice wavering despite your efforts to remain composed.

Lucas frowned, worry lines etched on his brow. "What's wrong?"

What's wrong? You cheating on me.

You opened Instagram, showed him a photo of him with Emily, and watched as his face paled. "Who is she?" you asked, your voice firmer now, rage fueling your resolve.

He knows he's caught.

"She's just a friend," Lucas replied, too soon and defensively. His gaze shifted away from yours, confirming your worst thoughts.

"A friend?" You could hear disbelief in your own voice. "Friends do not look at each other like that. Friends don't hide anything from their girlfriends."

Lucas gulped hard and ran a hand over his hair. "Look, it's not as you think. We...came close, but it didn't mean anything."

"Didn't mean anything?" You reverberated, your voice increasing. "Did you sleep with her?"

He paused, his gaze catching yours for a brief, painful moment before moving away. "Yes," he said quietly, the word like a stab to the heart.

Two years down the drain.

You felt the tears well up, but you didn't bother to brush them away. "How could you, Lucas?" "How could you do this to us?"

"Did I mean nothing to you? Two years of us being together mean nothing Lucas? I can't believe what I'm hearing from you" you ramble with tears falling from your face.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "That was a mistake. "I was drunk, and I wasn't thinking clearly."

"That doesn't make it okay," you said, your voice breaking. "You betrayed me."

Lucas leaned out to touch your arm, but you backed away, shaking your head. "I need you to leave," you murmured in a hollow voice. "I can't even look at you right now."

He simply nodded, knowing better than to dispute. "I'm so sorry," he said as he walked out the door, leaving you alone with your broken trust.

When you heard the front door close, you collapsed onto your bed blanket, shedding all of your tears. You never thought this would happen to you.

A week after the break up you've barely left your house; you wore comfy clothes around the house, ate, showered, cried, and cried.

Your friends texted you, wondering where you had been for the previous week. You needed to tell them since they knew you well enough to notice when you go missing for an extended period of time.

He doesn't deserve you.

He's a piece of shit.

Who does he think he is.

Later that night, as you sat cuddled up in bed, your phone vibrated with a message. It came from your friend Mia.

Mia: hey, there's a bonfire on the beach tonight. you should come. It'll help you get your mind off things.

You paused for a moment before deciding what to do. Anything was preferable to sitting in your room, rehashing the awful break up with Lucas over and over.

The beach was bustling with laughing and the crackling of a bonfire. You found friends quickly and attempted to immerse yourself in their presence.

When your bare feet touched the sand, you felt your body relax. Maybe coming here was a good idea.

"Hey, Y/N," Mia says with a grin, "I'm glad you made it, how are you doing?" She asks, concerned, examining your face for an answer.

"I'm alright just still getting over the break up" you stutter with your words, "this will help me get my mind off it."

Mia smiles, taking your hand, leading you to everyone else.

After thirty minutes, you've had one drink of Truly, talked with your friends, and are now sitting on the log, drowning in your thoughts after hearing Lucas' name mentioned.

"Hey, are you okay?" a familiar voice inquired, jolting you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Rafe Cameron, a close family friend, staring at you with concern.

Rafe Cameron has been one of your closest friends since middle school. You moved into the area a few houses down from Tannyhill.

You managed a feeble smile. "I'm fine," you lied.

Rafe lifted an eyebrow, obviously not buying it. "Come on, let's take a walk."

You followed him down the beach, the waves calming in the backdrop. Rafe came to a halt and turned to face you once you were a safe distance away from the flames. "What's going on?"

The dam had broken, and you found yourself telling him everything. About Lucas and Emily, about treachery and pain. Rafe listened quietly, his expression darkening with each word.

"That asshole," he mumbled when you finished. "I've never liked him." He does not deserve you.

You stared up at him, taken aback by the passion in his voice. "Rafe, it is not worth it. "He's not worth it."

He shook his head, his jaw tightened. "No one should be able hurt you without consequences. "He needs to learn a lesson."

"Rafe, please," you begged. "Violence won't solve anything."

He took a big breath, clearly attempting to relax himself. "You're right," he finally replied. "But it irritates me that he treated you like this. You deserve to be valued, not taken for granted.

"Thank you," you said quietly, taking some comfort from his words. "I just...I just need to move on from this."

"You will," Rafe replied firmly. "And I'll be here to assist you get through it. Always."

my taglist!

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ghyulia · 7 months ago

Text

𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗪𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦?

cw: Shouto Todoroki x Reader, wc ~3.2k

disclaimers ;3 - angst, misunderstandings, & fluff!

It was no secret amongst UA students that you and Todoroki were attached at the hip. A better way to describe it would be that you frequently tugged on the boy, yelling his ear off, rambling, training together, and the like.

It wasn't always that way, of course. At the beginning of your first year at UA, you and the half-hot half-cold boy did not get off to a good start. You showed him your well-practiced friend-making kindness, he responded in a not-so-nice manner, saying that he didn't care for friends in such a condescending voice, and you decided that you didn't like him. That decision lasted less than a month though, when he later apologized for his coldness and you forgave him. You were never one to forgive easily, so it came as a shock to you to see yourself immediately accepting his apology. How come?

Your relationship with Todoroki only went up from there. It started with being paired as training partners which turned into exchanging books and studying together, walking to class together, hanging out together, eating lunch together, and doing just practically about everything together. You attached yourself to the dual-color haired boy, even giving him his own cute nickname of sorts. Todoroki had never said outright that he hated it. In fact, if you had to guess, you would've thought he was okay with it--liked it even. (But now, that assumption only feels like your biggest mistake.)

It's a morning like any other. You trudge down the hall of your school, mentally dreading entering the classroom. You told Todoroki not to wait for you as you wanted to get to class a bit earlier. (You two had a habit of making it to class just by the bell, wasting copious amounts of time talking through breakfast.) You wanted to stop by the support course to pick up a part of your hero costume, and you knew it wouldn't be possible to if you had waited for the boy. You giggle lightly to yourself thinking about the face 'Roki will make when he sees the new addition to your costume. You're about to turn the corner when you hear a string of familiar voices. It makes you stop dead in your tracks. Curiosity always got the better of you. You quickly recognize the voices to be Kaminari, Kirishima, Midoriya, Iida, and Todoroki. You smile lightly to yourself, thinking what an odd combo it seems to make. Your smile drops almost immediately, though.

"Everyone seems over the edge these days with exams coming up, huh Prez? Whaddya say about us holding a class study session?" You hear Kaminari suggest. "I don't think that would be efficient nor effective! We also have to consider if some of our classmates study better in small groups or large groups!" Iida replies, and you can see him waving his hand in an engine like way. "I'm with Prez on this one, sorry bro." Kirishima adds, scratching the back of his head. "I feel the same way!" Midoriya chimes in, before whisper-rambling about who in the class seems like they work better alone. "I agree too. I wouldn't participate. It would most likely distract me from getting any work done at all." You hear Todoroki say. "Yea, well of course you wouldn't join! You and (Name) would probably chum it up with the books before we would even get anywhere! It's no fair! How come you always get to hang around (Name)?" "It's not like that. (Name) is a distraction to me too. In many more ways than anybody I've ever known is." "Woah, dude! I didn't know that's how you felt about them. I so thought..." You feel your heart sink to your feet. Suddenly, everything about you feels weird. You didn't know that was how Todoroki felt about you. Suddenly, your feet are moving by themselves, in the opposite direction. Anything to get away from here. From this situation. And so you make a mad dash to the restroom. You couldn't bear to hear the rest of the conversation, when it had been made so clear to you that the guy you thought was your best friend had felt the exact opposite about you. You felt so pathetic and in shock that you couldn't even cry. If you were so annoying and distracting to Todoroki, why didn't he just say so? Why did he let you pester him and waste both his and your time? You don't understand. You just stood there in the bathroom, leaning against the door of a stall. Slowly, you come to, slap yourself in the face, and walk towards your classroom once again. That day, you make another decision, with more resolve than the previous ones. Distance.

And so when you make it to class just by the bell and half-hot half-cold boy inquires why since you specifically left early, you just shrug and tell him you had some things to take care of. And when lunch comes around, you decide that you want to sit with Mina and her friends. And when it's time to train, you ask Midoriya instead. And at the end of class, when Iida proposes that you, Midoriya, Todoroki, him, and Uraraka should have a study session, you pass. You pack up your things, bid your friends a cya later, and make your way out of the building. You're changing your shoes when Todoroki makes his way towards you. He has a slight grimace on his face, but to most people, he looked like he normally did. (Why did you still want to know why he was making that face? Why did you get so attached in the first place? You hated yourself for it. )

"..Hey. Is there something wrong? You were unusually to yourself today. You didn't even pair up with me for training or sit with us." Todoroki asks, outstretching his hand to take your bag as you fumble with your shoes. You don't give it to him, and instead opt to bring it even closer to you. You muster up the best smile you can, and reply with all the gusto you can bring. "I'm fine! I have to go now though, so see you!" You say hurriedly as you quickly finish putting on your shoes and readjusting your bag. You all but dash out of the building and make your way to your dorm before Todoroki can even offer to walk with you. You hope he doesn't notice how stiff your smile was. But how would he anyway? He had only seen you as a distraction. You leave behind a distraught and confused Todoroki, who watches you disappear into the distance. (The boy immediately noticed how fake that smile was. Your smile was never like that. Ever. You didn't tell him about your day. You didn't eat lunch with him. You didn't even say a full 3 sentences to him today. And for the first time, Todoroki felt a sharp pang! in his chest. It hurt.)

Before you know it, you're at the dorms and finally, everything comes crashing down. You feel like you're about to have a meltdown. And so you quickly whip out your phone and shoot Mina a quick text.

You

Hey Mina, not feeling too hot rn. I'll be in my room

Mins

omw

"Not feeling too hot" was your and Mina's unspoken way of saying hey, I'm about to lose it, hellp! When Mina had first texted you something along those lines, you decided to check up on her, only to find her hysterically sobbing into her pillow. Safe to say it's a term only used during emergencies. Like now. By the time you make it to your room, you feel the waterworks coming. You quickly wriggle out of your uniform and fight back the tears that threaten to release from your eyes. You're doing well you think, until Mina comes in. All it takes is a "Hey babes, what's wrong?" For you to absolutely crumble into your best friend's chest. It takes a while for you to finally get everything out, along with the reason you're this way, but by the time you do, you feel a lot better.

"What the hell is wrong with this dude...It pisses me off but, (Name)! Listen. The best part now is that you know, right? No more clinging or worrying about that twat!" You sniffle. "I know, Mins. I really know, but it still hurts, you know? I'm embarrassed, hurt, and sad. But above all, I'm angry. I've been making a fool of myself. I hate it. And I hate how much I liked him." You croak out, throat dry from all the crying. "I know, I know." Mina coos, and you hug her tighter. Eventually, she leaves, and you sprawl across your bed. You already know what you're going to do. It's easier this way for the both of you guys, you think.

And so you continue to give Todoroki the cold shoulder. You shoot him a text saying that you can't walk with him anymore, and even decide to make breakfast to-go just to avoid seeing him. You stop greeting him in the morning. You ask Midoriya to be partners for the foreseeable future, and he agrees. You walk home with Mina. You eat lunch with Mina and her friends. You begin to study with them, too. And go out on the weekends. You barely even spare the dual color haired boy a glance. Whenever you speak to him, you keep it curt. (But how come it still hurts?) And this lasts for around a month, before the last straw.

Breaking up your friendship with Todoroki gave you more time to hang out with other people. It was fun to talk to new people, and it also served as a way to take your mind off him. This Friday is like any other. Todoroki watches you walk in, and a part of him hopes that maybe you would say good morning! in your chirpy voice. You always made it a point to smile at him and say good morning, but now, you don't even look at him. He watches as you take your seat and talk to Kaminari about something stupid. pang! Eventually the lesson starts, and the day flies by as "normal". The normal being rarely any contact between him and you. This isn't how it should be, Todoroki thinks to himself. He's packing up his things to go when he sees you and the metal quirked kid from Class 2b near the door. He can't hear what you two are saying, but he does see Metal Quirk lean in and all but tackle you into a hug. He's definitely heavy with the way you can barely hold yourself up. But you're laughing. He hadn't seen that in so long. pang. pang. pang. And before he knows it, Todoroki is making his way towards the two of you. He pulls Tetsutetsu off of you albeit a bit rough. "(Name). Mr. Aizawa is calling for us. He's in his office." And before you can respond, Todoroki clasps your hand and starts walking you two towards the office. Although shocked, you manage to use your free hand to wave to Tetsutesu before confronting the boy keeping such a tight grip on your hand. "Thank you, but I can walk myself. Do you know what he needs us for?" You ask, but there's no answer. To your surprise once again, you both pass by the office. "Hey, Todoroki. I thought you said Mr. Aizawa was in the office? Where are we-" You feel his grip tighten a little. "Todoroki, let go." You say with a hint of seriousness in your tone that makes the boy hesitate in his walking. But he doesn't stop. You finally manage to yank his hand away at the lockers. "Todoroki! Seriously, what the hell?" You half-yell, both confused and annoyed. "I should be asking you that, (Name). What's happening? You don't talk to me at all. It's like I don't exist to you anymore. And now you're all buddy-buddy with everybody. Did I do something? I just want answers." Todoroki says, and you feel something in you explode. Maybe it's the pent-up frustration from his seemingly obliviousness, or just the sheer fact of the nerve he had to say what he just said. Either way, you don't spare the boy. "What's wrong?! You should be happy I'm doing this, since all I am is a distraction in so many ways. If I was such a pain, you should've said something. I overheard your conversation with the others about me. I couldn't even listen past the distraction part because it hurt so so bad. I know what you said. I thought I was doing us both a favor by ignoring you, so that way you can focus. And I can't even begin to look at you, because when I do, all I think about is how embarrassed and mad I am that you would let me stick around you all this time and not express how you truly feel! You never cared about me at all, did you?" You don't even realize you're crying until you feel one trickle down your cheek. You don't even bother to look at the male before you mutter a quick apology and make a beeline for the exit. Once again, you leave Todoroki standing there. (When he saw your tears fall, and chest heave, all he could wonder was how could someone look so beautiful even when crying? He wanted to slap himself. Why was he like this?)

You feel so idiotic as you sob into your pillow. And you sob, and sob, and sob until you physically can't cry anymore. By the time you look up from your snot covered pillow, it's darker. Dinner has already passed, and you weakly grab your phone to see a swarm of texts from Mina. Before you can type out a reply though, you hear frantic banging on your door. You sluggishly make your way to the door before creaking it slightly open. You're greeted with the face you least want to see right now, and you grimace. "What do you want, Todoroki? If you're sorry, it's okay. If you're not, it's okay too. I just want to be left alone." You shut the door faster than the half-hot half-cold boy can hold it, and you just stand there for a bit. You think he's left until you hear his voice. "(Name). I'm just letting you know in advance. I'm burning this door down." You quickly yank the door open. "No! What the hell." This time, Todoroki makes use of the open door and comes in. You both are just standing there until he speaks up: "(Name). I want to clear this up with you. I won't deny that I said what I said. And even if you had listened to the whole conversation, it wouldn't have made things any better." "How is this supposed to make me feel better?" "Sorry. What I mean is that It's the way I meant it that matters. I don't have a way with words. I've never been able to articulate my feelings quite well. (Name), you are a distraction. At first, I thought that it was maybe your quirk. Whenever I'm around you, it's hard to focus. My palms get sweaty, my heartbeat becomes irregular, and I just feel...odd. I talked about it with my sister, and she and I are both sure that I harbor romantic feelings for you. When I said you were a distraction, I meant...more so romantically. Kaminari and the others are just plain distracting in the annoying way. But you? You distract my heart. I can't pay attention to much other than your smile, your words, just you. This past month, week and 5 days have been horrible. That's what I meant, (Name). You're special to me, and I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise. I'm not lying. We can check for proof." He takes your hand softly places it on his chest. You can feel his heart beating rapidly, and when you look up, you see a faint red hue adorn both his cheeks. You can't help but shed a few happy tears. "You idiot. I'm just so glad right now...You don't understand how bad I hated not talking to you. We have so much to catch up on! You better be ready because I'm really gonna talk your ear off tonight." "I wouldn't have it any other way." Todoroki smiles and pulls you into a tight embrace.

extra!

"You do realize that you just confessed your love for me, right 'Roki?" "Yes." "And you counted the days, you loser. hehe." "...But Wait, so what does this mean for us? Since the feelings are mutual." "If it's alright with you, dating with the intention of marriage in the future?" "...Who told you that would be a good idea to say?" "...Tokoyami."

xxtra!

A while later, Todoroki ends up talking with Kaminari, Kirishima, Iida, and Midoriya. "I have a question. When I said that name was a distraction to me, what way did you perceive it as?" The male inquires. "Like ya hate her! I was so shocked. I still can't expect that from you of all people Todobro!" Kaminari says to which Kirishima agrees. "I thought the same way! But calling a classmate a distraction is far from appropriate! I take it you apologized?" Iida asks, to which Todoroki scratches his ear. "O-Oh WHAT?! Is that what you meant, Todoroki? I for sure thought you meant that you held romantic feelings for her which in turn led to um...distractions." Midoriya says, and The dual color haired boy half smiles at him. "Yea. That's what I meant." "How did you know Midoriya?! What the hell!" Kirishima asks, shellshocked. "Oh, um well I thought it was kind of obvious. Well actually, I have some notes about it in my notebook. Not in a creepy way I swear! It started off as an analysis of both of their quirks in battle since they always paired up together. They had a lot of synergy so I wanted to take some notes. But the more I observed the two of them together, the more I noticed. Like for example..." The green haired boy flips through his notebook until he reaches a page that says, 'TODOROKI & (NAME) ALLIANCE'. "Here it is! Like when they fight together, Todoroki takes a different stance than when he fights with like say, Bakugou. At first, I thought it was because he wanted to dominate against the enemy, but that didn't make sense since their strengths are close to equal. Then I realized his stance was more protective because he personally didn't want (Name) to get hurt. And also, when he's with (Name), his facial expressions are more animated. His smile is wider, and his eyes are always looking at them. He's always got his eyes on (Name). Even when we go out to stores, he always looks for something to bring back for them. The biggest solidifier for me though, was this past month when (Name) and him kind of drifted. His mood was significantly worse. He ate his lunch slower and would always look towards their direction. He would study slower, and he was looking at name even more. It was almost like they were his drive! It made me realize instantly that something was up.....and....and....." (Todoroki didn't even realize the extent to which you had captured his heart. But now he was sure. He had you, and he was never letting go.)

a/n: oh my goodness I'm so sorry for being inactive :(( I'm back now and this was kinddaaa rushed but I think I like it tho!! aaaa I've been missing shouto a lot lately so here this is!! I hope ygs enjoy and if anyone has any ideas at all pls send them my way! I would love to do them!

#mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #shouto todoroki #todoroki #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #todoroki x you #shoto x you #shoto x y/n #todoroki x y/n

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