#at the end of the day. This is hinted at with how many women say they dont want revenge they want equality like fuck no

[girlsoutlate]

the lead up to price sharing his birdie with his men, and badly hidden curiousity on their behalf

i tried just writing the meeting but i found it difficult so i wrote this as a little inbetween piece, enjoy

fem reader described as having hair that can be tied up, slight age gap (older price) THE BOYS ARE NOSYYY

the 141 can be considered nosy by nature, but have the excuse of it being their job. some are more open than others about their home life. ghost seemed to live quite solitary whereas gaz and soap had shared family pictures. nevertheless, there was some idea of each others lives outside of the military. but one person stayed an enigma: captain john price. maybe because it felt strange to know so much about their superior as well as role model. price had never shown an aversion to talking about his life, but the 141 had never asked- shocking to say the least. they all had their own theories. gaz thought he used to be married but it ended in a disastrous divorce- yet there was no trace of any mrs price. soap guessed he liked the company of pretty women, if you catch his drift. but never heard any boasting from his captain. ghost concluded he was similar to him, perhaps with a few more friends and a family, there was no reason to think otherwise. yet none of them guessed there was gorgeous thing like you john was all to eager to return home to each night, until now.

the 141 had been seeing signs of a woman close to their captain for about a month now. it started with a faint hint of fruity perfume under his cigar musk and aftershave, that was out of place on such a man. gaz pointed it out, making the rest of the 141 laugh. however it was forgotten about by the next hour, no one thought anymore of it. then the next day a hairband around prices wrist. he must have forgotten to take it off after you taught him how to plait your hair the night before. it was a work in progress. the simple black band was noticed by ghost while exchanging paperwork. he brushed it off despite finding it a little odd. the first piece of solid evidence they find of the captains mystery woman was his lockscreen.

they were in their common room, taking a break from the never ending pile of paperwork. squashed on the small couches they were joking about the new recruits, which was one of their many favourite topics to complain about. the hum of fluorescent lights was drowned out by their banter, mugs with dregs of coffee in them and a half empty pack of fags sat on the table. while talking, prices phone lit up with a notification. soap, the nosy shite, immediately noticed his lockscreen. a picture of a woman with her back to the camera: gossamer hair and skin that glowed in the sunny view she was admiring. with an eyebrow quirked, soap turned to his captain and asked too casually "whose tha'?". without missing a beat price replied smugly "the missus". for once soap shut up, and looked at the others with his mouth slightly agape, checking if they heard the same thing. ghost let out a grunt which they now knew to be a laugh. gaz's eyes were growing wider by the second. price seemed done and returned to whatever the previous subject was, which had quickly become forgotten. at that point gaz, soap and ghost were a pack of dogs with a bone. who was prices pretty birdie?

over the next month or so the boys had heightened interest on their captains home life. of course they cared about the details of the captains weekend plans, did he fancy going to that quite pricey restaurant that had opened up? it was necessary for them to ask the source of his dinner that evening, did he know the recipe? the competitive streak in them was made apparent sooner rather than later, all fighting to get more important information than the others. even though, if anything was discovered it was immediately shared. one day gaz stumbled upon gold.

he was in prices office, relatively spacious with a small couch in the corner and a bookcase in another. whilst chatting about an upcoming meeting, a buzz emanated from prices phone. before gaz could read the caller id price snatched it up and grumbled 'wont be a minute'. thinking it was a work call, gaz was surprised to hear his captains voice suddenly becoming as soft as it could. turning to face the window johns small smile wasn't missed as he murmured "hi love, how are ya?" staying still and quiet as to not get kicked out, he listened to the chirpy voice that could be faintly heard through the tinny phone. with a content sigh john replied 'steak for dinner? tha's perfect'. a wide grin crept on to gaz's face. a giggle and another sentence could be heard before price replied "of course i'll pick tha' up for dessert" both of you let out a small laugh when john continued "are ya tryna kill me?". just when gaz thought this couldn't get any better, price replied to you "i'll see ya at home sweet'eart". as he hung up and turned back around the sergeant found it near impossible to dampen his grin.

john had told you of his boys' detective work, which he considered shoddy at best. as you were flitting around the kitchen that evening, you were bemused at your boyfriends recount of the day. when he described his sergeants face after the phonecall you let out a loud laugh, bouncing off the tiles of your cosy kitchen. john sat by the table while you busied yourself by the wooden counter, as he nursed his beer he couldn't help but take in your appearance. tendrils of loose hair curled around your ears, escaping from your hair that was loosely tied back. although hidden by one of his tops and comfy jogging bottoms, he could make out the slopes and peaks of your body that he was all too familiar with. as you turned to face him, he was drawn closer to the twinkling reflection of light in your eyes. before he realised it he was towering over you, eyes raking over your form with the beer abandoned on the table. you looked up at him, hand on your hip. "john are you even listening to me?" you asked, face comically blank. "sorry doll, what was that?" he huskily replied, slightly dazed. 'pass me a can. please?' you asked, adding a awfully fake cheesy smile at the end.

pressing a kiss to your lips as an apology, he was about to pull away before you deepened it. pulling his barrel of a body against yours, his mouth slightly opened. the bitter taste of beer and cigars mingled with sweet cider from yours. pulling back, slightly breathless, johns blown pupils met yours. "yer so gorgeous, don't know wha' i did to deserve ya" he muttered, the closeness of his voice making you slightly weak. as his calloused thumb brushed over your warm cheek you coyly commented 'what would your men think if they saw you like this'?. for a moment john faltered, thinking about how they would feel if they saw him being intimate with someone like you- let alone how he would feel. his flushed cheeks were the subject of your teasing for the rest of that night.

while eating your dinner you brought up the 141 since you were already talking about them. you knew your boyfriend felt a responsibility to look after his girl, despite you being more than capable. whenever his deployment was brought up it was usually by him. telling you where he went and anything that he thought might interest you, from an aspect of their culture to a cute cat he saw. sometimes he brought trinkets back. but never about what he had done, or what he had ordered to be done. so the members of the 141 were more characters in your head than real people. you knew their names and basic personalitybut that was all. so when you asked "how much do they know about me?" it was rather tentative. john paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, thinking. shaking his head he replied decidedly "not much, besides y' mine. they're nosy fuckers, practically begged me to show them a proper picture of you". you hummed in response, finishing your mouthful of food. quietly you muttered "maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they knew more". letting the question hang in the air, you picked up another forkful of food which went down your throat in a lump. john was silent, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

he considered your proposal, if his girl was concerned then it was worth thinking about. plainly he asked "why?", trusting you to be open. "well, you spend a lot of time with them- i'm not jealous. its just that.. you trust these men with your life, i don't even know what they look like." pausing for a second you continued "its more for my sake than theirs. if i knew them past their names it would make it, well, easier to be apart from you for so long. i know you can look after yourself, but i- i'm always gonna worry about you." with that said, the air in the kitchen grew heavier. you kept your eyes glued on to your plate as johns gaze from across the table burned in to you.

the captain realised that you wanted to know more, for your wellbeing rather than the 141's. now, he realised it was quite a simple conclusion. he imagined his girl cold and alone in an empty house, no idea where he was or who he was with, for weeks at a time. five minute phone calls spent trying to find better service than speaking to each other. no idea who john was fighting or how difficult it was. no clue about who he was trusting his life with in your absence. how on earth could he not expect you to have an issue with it? he kicked himself, he made his sweetheart worry. he could have prevented it and he didn't, too focused on a successful mission than the only thing he wanted to return home for. price knew this had to change, or risk isolating you even more than he does because of his job.

john stood up, chair screeching on the kitchen tiles while he sighed "fuckin 'ell i'm an idiot". gathering both plates and putting them on the counter, he ran a hand across his face and turned to you. just as you took a breath to take it all back, john interrupted you: "you should meet 'em". you cocked your head to the side, looking at him with slightly narrowed eyes. "whats changed your mind?" you enquired, curious about the sudden change. replying half-heartedly, still deep in thought "just thinkin' about you here on your own, worryin'". taking a deep breath he stated "i'll talk to them about it. you". walking up to him with a small smile on your face you leant up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, beard tickling your chin. "thankyou john" you whispered. reaching up to get the plates the rumble of his voice deep in his chest saying "anythin' for you doll" reverberated against your back.

as he turned to get the dessert out of the fridge the most pressing question yet entered his mind: how would he ask the 141 to meet his birdie- without them going mad?

thankyou for reading :))) each like, comment and reblog is greatly appreciated. this is more for context to the main meeting that has been stuck in my head for ages. if you liked this keep an eyes out!!!

heyyy guys long time no see. had a crazy two weeks, found out my boyfriend was practically cheating on me for the last month of our relationship and he already has a new girlfriend after two weeks. apart from that im grand. sorry it took so long for me to post properly again, thankyou for being patient

[blackpilljesus]

Can we not just stop birthing men like... women have to stop giving life to men.

I'm doing my part ✌️ and I agree but collectively most women wouldn't. I remember when there was discourse over a radfem having & celebrating giving birth to a baby boy. I've seen radfems praise lesbian couples adopting baby boys.

Tbh a lot of women are sellouts, they sellout other women & even betray themselves for love or having a slightly higher social status in society. When forced to cohabit with predators that have more power & essentially want to reproduce a copy of themselves, women giving them that could elevate or secure their status in society - it's an incentive & many would go for it.

Another thing to consider is that many women birth maIes to spare their lives, there's been cases where maIes would kill their partners & daughters for the woman not having a son (even though the sperm determines the sex). Part of me considers maternal instincts of women not being able to kill their maIe offspring bc that's still their child but then I think of post partum psychosis & cultures where daughters are routinely killed when they're born. If these instincts applied to maIe & female children I dont think things would've gotten this bad. Also a lot of women treat their sons much better than their daughters.

In a patriarchial society, birthing sons lets boymoms live out their power fantasies through their sons. They 'borrow' power from their sons or use their sons as a proxy for power. Like toxic mother in-laws treating their daughter in-laws like shit bc it's through the association that this woman is married to their son, women that cover up their sons sex crimes, in some cultures; boymoms look for women who've undergone FGM for their sons.

Bear in mind so many women still have faith in maIes as a collective, they think they'll raise the "good ones". This notion is popular in feminist spaces, women think they'll magically train & raise maIe allies. There's a saying of how several boymoms have emotional incest with their sons, they see there aren't good maIes in society so they want to create their own one(s).

However I think the biggest issue is that women are never going to be sociopathic or apathetic enough to moids. It would take a high level of apathy to abort maIe fetuses & refuse to birth another xy solely on the basis of their sex, to get to this point you'd need to have this feeling towards maIes generally and most women dont have this. MaIe survival is contentigent on female subjugation, women dont need to subjugate maIes to survive, we carry life, we can also provide for ourselves & maIes know it which is why they've set up societies the way they are and they're brutal about it because they and their bloodlines would be dead anyways if they dont have a system forcing women to rely on them to survive. That said; In the end despite everything, many women still want to partner with maIes, many women still love & believe in maIes. Most women wont disassociate with maIes collectively, catherine mckinnon goes into this in her book "the second sex" where she speaks about how women are scattered everywhere & identify with the tribes maIes put them into as opposed to seeing themselves as a sovereign group.

I personally dont think birthing another oppressor is worth it but people are different. Of course this can (& does) backfire against women but by the time the damage is realised it's too late. Ultimately for a shift in gender ratio & for women to refuse to birth maIes at any cost, they need to think bigger than themselves individually. Think of womankind instead of maIe supremacy & its structures but this will never happen & I wont kid myself otherwise.

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. thinking about true form!sukuna having a huge size kink (+ corruption kink).

word count. 2.6k

note. super self-indulgent. cant rlly blame me for creating this. also do you see those big ass hands in the header i used? yeah.. says enough (this sucks ass)

tags. dom heian era!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut. porn with plot. size kink / size difference (reader gets referred to as ‘short’ & ‘small’). p in v -> unprotected. degradation. corruption kink (reader gets referred to as ‘naive’, 'shy' & innocent’-looking). tummy bulging. loss of virginity mention. hymen breaking mention. cervix fucking, ouch. lots of teasing. tiny bit of choking. tiny mention of blood tasting ? idk. hint at anal / double penetration. dirty talk. sukuna has two of everything btw mehehe. reader get called ‘woman, brat, slut, little'.

sukuna is intrigued by you. he’s always been, since the moment he’s laid his eyes upon you. your loyalty and devotion to him are two aspects that the king of curses likes most about you. .

. . after your innocence.

it nearly irked him. every time he saw you hanging around the estate without a single care in the world. sukuna would attempt to intimidate you with serious threats. he’d loom over your short stature and look down at you with a malicious glint in his eyes. though, none of it seemed to work.

you'd only bow your head at him and apologise if you’ve caused him any possible inconveniences. it annoyed the sorcerer. you weren’t trembling in fear like all the others would — it was like there was nothing going on in that head of yours. especially when you smile at him. which no one actually dares to do.

sukuna could crush you. with no effort. one big hand would be enough to pick your entire body up, lift you in the air and throw you around like a ragdoll. you don’t seem to fear the possibility of that happening, even when being faced with a pissed off sukuna.

it’s truly intriguing and amusing. that’s why sukuna kept you around every day — as a form of entertainment, he called it. one thing led to the other and you eventually ended up as one of his concubines. the king of curses himself decided to grant you that promotion.

why? because not only does your fragile body, reserved and polite personality and innocence secretly fascinate him — it also makes him crave you. crave to shatter that naivety of yours. to take that small body of yours and make it feel what it means to be overpowered by a man twice your size.

sukuna does not regret his decision to make you his concubine. the first night you spent together was one of the best nights he had ever had. in all his many years of living. not a single woman had ever succeeded in blowing his mind when it came to sex.

it was usually boring and repetitive for the sorcerer. he felt nothing for those women he’s had in bed before — it was solely for the fact of satisfying himself. though, that changed on the day you had given him your virginity.

he remembers every detail; from your little noises of both pain and pleasure, your tight and untouched pussy that bled faintly when the fat tip of his lower cock pushed through, your nails that dug into his arms and back, your thighs that he held to your chest, his large hands that could easily wrap around the fat of them, your aching cunt that was left spasming around air as it tried to keep his sticky cum stored in place.

sukuna didn’t think your tears would affect him as much. when he took your virginity and you whimpered in pain — he did feel a twinge of guilt. it was strange; he hadn’t felt that emotion before. he had stopped and wiped your tears away. roughly whispered some words of encouragement too.

he had never done so before. never. he had never told anyone how ‘good’ they were for him. how he’d be ‘careful’ to not make it hurt any more. the king of curses recalls vividly how slow he started with you. slow sex. instead of rough like he’s used to.

sukuna wasn’t chasing after his own pleasure in that moment like he’d usually have. his main priority was to make sure the girl below him was comfortable enough to continue. you’re strange. the things you make him do, say and feel are strange. and yet. . .

it was an amazing night. the best. however sukuna was left behind with an insatiable hunger for you. more, more, more. he can’t grasp it yet; why he longs for you. for those feelings he’s suddenly capable of experiencing during intimate moments.

it’s why he calls for you every night. no other concubine was needed after you were made one. the king of curses couldn’t care less about those other women. they are boring to him.

unlike you. the one he’s sure that he won’t ever get bored of.

“you can take me so well now,” sukuna breathes out. one of his cocks was inches deep inside you, bulbous tip painfully hitting your cervix. over the past few weeks, your body had learnt to adjust to him, your pussy molded to fit the shape of his dick.

sukuna looks down at you and his cocks twitch with the urge to release already. his heavy balls clenching. your fucked out state is adorable. you seemed so.. vulnerable underneath the big man, “what a fragile little thing.”

it almost sounded condescending. degrading. especially with sukuna’s lips being curled up into a mean grin, his sharp canines showing. there was a puddle of your cum forming underneath your hips — staining the sheets that the poor servants have to clean by tomorrow morning.

“p-please, fngh, ‘s too big,” you sputter out. no matter how many times you took sukuna in, your smaller body couldn’t quite fully accommodate to the girth of him. every time he hits your deepest parts, you let out a painful whimper.

sukuna kisses his teeth, though slows his thrusts a bit. the wet sounds of his cum and yours getting pushed in and out of your cunt with each move was too addicting. what sukuna loves most is the view of the skin of your lower abdomen swelling and stretching each time he pushes forward.

“i thought you said you’d take both of my cocks today, yet it seems like you can’t even handle one,” the king of curses sighs whilst belittling you. one set of hands is holding you down by your hips, the other set is fondling your stiff nipples and circling your sensitive clit, “what a pity. a real pity.”

you almost choke on your spit as all your sensitive spots were being fondled. sukuna’s thick fingers leave no place untouched as he increases the tempo again—his cock plunging in and out of your stretched hole. the upper one was twitching, rubbing against your clit and lower abdomen.

sukuna harshly grabs your jaw and makes you look up at him after he hears you apologise for making empty promises. he seems satisfied with you staying so polite. even when he’s practically rearranging your guts. the way you talk through your soft sobs and cries is endearing. makes him grin wickedly.

“i don’t want to break my favourite little concubine yet, you see,” sukuna continues. he lets out a grunt of pleasure when your pussy clenches around his thick cock. no matter how many times he fucks you dumb, you still remain as tight as the first time.

he takes in a deep breath. he’s trying his best not to pound you into the mattress. he’d fold you in half and probably break you like the fragile thing you are. he could snap you like a twig if he wasn’t careful, “. . .but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

you respond by apologising again. oh, how cute it was to see you babble and make up excuses. sukuna grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he resists the urge to go harder on you. you’re already squirming and moaning loudly just because he’s fucking you hard and deep—bruising your cervix and forcing your walls to open up to him.

“‘m sorry, wanna take both.” you hiccup and sniffle. tears ran down your cheeks from overstimulation. it felt so good yet so painful to be taken by the person you admire most. you didn’t want to displease him, so you uttered those hopeless yet needy sentences again.

sukuna stops his movements when you weakly ask him to use both of his cocks on you. he scoffs, not knowing where you gained the confidence from. he pulls out of your dripping cunt, leaving a trail of cum connecting both your genitalia.

“‘wanna take both,’ she says,” sukuna mocks you under his breath. it’s getting worse; he’s nearing the point of no return. especially with your desperate whines that were like music to his ears, “you’ll break, woman.”

two of his hands move to stroke along his lengths, smearing the mixture of body fluids all over them. his eyes glare down at your small form—already fucked out, yet aching to continue. needing the full experience for once.

you always turn from a shy girl to a complete slut whenever he has you in bed. sukuna loves it.

“i want to try at the very least,” you mutter. it’s true that you’re exhausted. you’re catching your breath now that you got the chance, tired eyes glancing up at sukuna’s enormous stature between your legs, his defined muscles and the tattoos on them glistening under the faint light of the oil lamp.

it got your pussy throbbing and clamping down around air. you felt a bit light headed and your head lolls back against the pillow, eyes glazed over as you try to seem determined. but your body was tired.

“yeah? how. . . cute,” sukuna grins. he knows you can’t. not today at least. he doesn’t mind if you aren’t capable of taking him fully since you’ve already pleased him well enough for now. though, he still can’t help but tease you—make it seem like he’s going to give you what you want, “all right. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

your eyes widen and your fingers curl around the silky bedsheets beneath you in anticipation. your heart is pounding in your chest as you watch sukuna pump his two cocks a bit faster, squeezing the base a bit, leaking some pre.

it’s all just for show.

“i’m not stopping. even if you scream.” the king of curses warns you with a dangerous glint in his eyes. you gulp at the terrifying aura sukuna was emitting. one of his tips teases your entrance whilst the other probes and circles around your anus.

he threatens you again, testing if you’ll back down, “last chance. i’m not pulling out once i’m in, do y’hear me?”

you keep being stubborn until the very last second. sukuna’s deep voice that shook you to your core was not enough to make you change your mind. you were so desperate to fulfill his every need and make sure that he was satisfied. it made you the perfect woman in his eyes.

the king of curses is completely amused. he decides to take it up a notch. he pushes his lower cock against the tight ring of muscles, pressing and nearly allowing the tip to move in. the sudden increase in pressure is torturous. you surely wouldn’t be able to withstand the entire thing.

“w-wait!” you squeal in surprise and pain. the sting you felt made you snap back into reality. it’s when you realised that maybe you needed more time and experience to take both of sukuna’s dicks. you squirm your hips away, “can’t. i can’t.. hurts too much.”

sukuna nearly rolls his eyes once you finally give in. he shakes his head with a sigh, feigning disapproval and annoyance. he pulls his entire body away from yours—a ominous shadow casted over his eyes. it makes you think that he’s pissed off at you; for being unable to please him.

you panic a little. even if you are sure sukuna wouldn’t ever hurt you. you know he favours you over the other concubines. you don’t want to lose that position.

“i’m sorry.” you apologise before the sorcerer could say anything. he lets out a sharp breath, rough hands back on your body, kneading your flesh gently yet firmly. his eyes take in the view of you trembling.

it’s unreal. you are half his size—completely vulnerable underneath him. he’d normally call people like you weak and useless. wouldn’t feel a thing for them. but your naked body below his is a sight he wishes to see every night.

it turns sukuna on so much. the fact that you are helpless and don’t complain when you’re struggling to take one of his cocks gets him going each time.

“tsk. what’d i tell you?” sukuna grumbles. he slaps his lower cock firmly against your clit. your body responds by closing your thighs together, though the king of curses pries them apart again, “stop overestimating yourself, brat.”

he isn’t actually mad. it was expected—of course you couldn’t take both at once. he didn’t even prep your other hole enough. plus you are clearly still exhausted from the previous rounds. sukuna just likes to. . . test and take advantage of your devotion to him. your obedience and desires to please him.

it’s fascinating to see you squirm and apologise in that whiny voice of yours. it makes him grin from ear to ear. and it keeps things fun.

before you could mutter excuses again, sukuna stops you by leaning in. just when you thought you’d finally get to kiss him, he goes to bite down on your bottom lip. a moan slips out of your mouth which only spurs him on to bite down harder.

you could feel the devilish smirk on sukuna against your lip. his wet tongue cleans up the tiny drop of blood that escaped the wound. he lets out a low hum in approval at the taste. delicious as always.

“now, how should i punish my little concubine for being unable to keep her word?” sukuna whispers in a serious tone. it sends shivers down your spine, his hot breath traveling from your jaw to your right ear. he slowly licks your earlobe, “what do you say? any ideas?”

the tension in the room was palpable. your heart was stammering in your throat from the proximity between the two of you. you gather the courage to answer as sukuna’s fingers curl around your neck, squeezing your throat as if forcing the answer out of you.

“i-i’ll do anything, sir.” you reply through a shaky breath. the king of curses pulls back after he’s got a response from you. your eyes meet his and that’s when you know that you’ve either greatly pleased him or have given him the chance to go all out on you.

it’s probably both.

“anything, you say?” sukuna repeats slowly. without a warning, he effortlessly flips you over on your stomach, a set of hands pulling your ass up by your hips whilst the other set holds your upper body down on the mattress.

a harsh grip on the back of your head results into you whimpering. your face was mushed into a pillow, almost leaving no place to breathe. your back is placed in the perfect arch with your plump ass facing up. it’s one of sukuna’s favourite positions to do with you — especially because it makes you seem smaller than you already are.

“heh. i’ll make you regret saying that.” sukuna chuckles. a low, evil and wicked chuckle. that’s enough to make you realise that he was not going easy on you. your submission had greatly impressed the king of curses and he's taking advantage of it. again.

what would come next could be a reward for that said submission. he’s going to fuck your brains out and make you forget about everything else except for his dick. a night you won’t ever forget as long as you live—that’s a possibility.

or perhaps you’re going to be crying and begging him to go easy on you. a punishment for not being able to keep your promise. that could also happen.

anyway, you’re about to find out which one it is.

[ladadiida]

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth. or, you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i swear i cannot escape a brainrot whenever i watch a new show. this automatically wrote itself, i don't even remember how i came up with this idea. anyway, i'm surprised there aren't many sanji fics that involves the unrequited love trope, seeing that it suits him. or maybe that's just me. this is only a SNEAK PEEK though.

𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 full version now published here!

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite dessert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

again, this is only a sneak peek of the actual fic, i'm currently halfway in completing it. please let me know if you want to read it, because i might publish it next week. if not, i'll just drown in sorrow and self-pity.

[chibinasuu]

Sugar Cookies | Sanji x Reader

Summary: Just two shy oblivious fools in love. Tags: f!reader, no use of y/n, pure tooth-rotting fluff

Note: i imagined the reader here being the same one from my other fic “Good Mornings”, so this can be read as a continuation to that, but can definitely be read as a one-shot too!

A now familiar sight greeted you as you stepped into the kitchen of the Thousand Sunny – Sanji, his back to you as he tirelessly worked on preparing today’s breakfast. It had fallen into your routine to join the blonde chef in the kitchen every morning, yet no matter how many times you've seen it, you never got tired of watching the man cook. 

They say the way to one’s heart is through the stomach. You never truly understood what that meant until you met Sanji. You fell in love at first bite with his cooking, but the more you got to know him, the more you found yourself falling for the blue-eyed cook himself. You were captivated by his charm, his kindness, his gentleness, and the way he deeply cared for each of his crewmates – yes, even the mosshead. 

A cup of coffee awaited you on the kitchen bar, steam still billowing off the mug. Sanji had memorized by now the hour and minute you usually come into the kitchen. He had gotten the timing of serving your coffee down to a science, making the drink just the right temperature for your first sip of the day – not too hot that it would scald your tongue, but also not left on the table long enough for it to be unpleasantly lukewarm. 

You took a deep breath through your nose, savoring the usual aroma of coffee and bacon, but there was also a hint of something else wafting through the air today. Something sweet – a delicate blend of vanilla, butter, and sugar. 

“Oh, good morning, sweetheart!” Sanji called out as he noticed you, and you felt your heart involuntarily skip a beat. 

The nickname didn’t use to affect you this much. Sanji had been calling you sweetheart since the very first moment he saw you, eyes full of hearts and arms waving to grab your attention. Truthfully, you found it annoying at first, even more so when you realized he acted like that with every single woman he met. But, somehow, somewhere along the way, you found yourself addicted to hearing him call you the term of endearment, even when you thought he didn’t actually mean it. How could he, when he called every other woman that?

Little did you know, somehow, somewhere along the way, Sanji had miraculously found himself looking less and less at other women. He didn’t even notice it until one day, Nami asked if he was feeling sick, thinking something was wrong because he hadn’t flirted with her for a record three days straight. Nami eventually figured out that Sanji hadn’t dropped his lovesick act, he was just reserving it for you. She didn’t say a thing, though, secretly entertained by your and Sanji’s obliviousness to each other’s true feelings. 

Sanji set down a plate of heart-shaped sugar cookies next to your coffee and winked at you, “Something sweet for someone sweet.”

He really needed to stop saying lines like that before you end up in the sick bay with heart failure.

A little peek at the jar on the counter showed you that the rest of the cookies he had set aside for your crewmates were all round-shaped, unlike the hearts he gave you. You tried not to read too much into it, lest you get your hopes up.

“Try dipping them into the coffee, dear, it’ll balance out the sweetness,” Sanji suggested as he returned to the stove, flipping some more bacon and adding them to the already massive pile on a plate.

You took a cookie and dipped it into your coffee, as per Sanji’s instruction, and you couldn’t stop the moan rising out from your throat as the bittersweet taste mingled exquisitely upon your tongue.

Sanji froze at the sound, before clearing his throat awkwardly, “Enjoying the cookies?”

He turned off the stove and started wiping down the oil splatters off the counter. 

“They’re perfect.” You told him as you popped another one of the buttery goodness into your mouth. Jokingly, you added, “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to make these for me every day for the rest of your life, Sanji.” 

You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the sincerity in his tone when he replied, “That would be my greatest pleasure, sweetheart.”

His heartfelt remark caused a tightness in your chest, and you were suddenly awash with an irresistible wave of affection for the cook. You got up from your seat, your feet unwittingly carrying you toward the man still clearing up the countertop. 

Once you were right behind him, you wrapped your arms gently around his slim waist and rested the side of your face against his back, “Thanks, Sanji. You’re always so sweet to me.”

Sanji’s whole body stiffened under your touch, and you felt your heart drop. What were you thinking, suddenly hugging him like this? Of course he’d feel uncomfortable.  

You immediately started to remove your arms, but he urgently grabbed onto them, stopping you from letting go of the embrace. You looked up at Sanji curiously, only to find him tilting his head up toward the ceiling to prevent a nosebleed from streaming down his face.

“Oh, shoot, Sanji!” You yanked your arms away from him, grabbing a dishcloth and pressing it up to his nose.

Sanji’s face was bright red with embarrassment as you wiped the blood away. A laughter tinted with mortification bubbled out of you, “Sorry, sorry! I won’t do that again!”

His hand swiftly reached up to grab your wrist, and you stared at him in confusion. He refused to meet your eyes, and his voice was small when he finally said, “I don’t mind if you do that again.”

You stood in stunned silence, processing his words. Did that mean he liked that you hugged him? 

Sanji took a deep breath, looking oddly determined as he finally made eye contact with you. 

“No, actually, I want you to do that again. Please.” His voice cracked slightly with nerves as he hurriedly added, “But only if you want to.”

His shyness, so different from his usual over-the-top flirting, surprised you. It felt like he was giving you a peek at his genuine feelings that up till now had been thoroughly disguised by layers of exaggerated acts.

“Just, uh, give me a warning next time, maybe?” Sanji chuckled nervously, “Sorry, it just felt like my heart was going to explode.”

“Right.” You said, trying to supress a grin at how adorable he was being right now, “Consider this your warning, then.”

You tossed the bloody dishcloth into the sink and placed your hands on either side of him, looking right into his eyes as you announced, “I’m gonna hug you again, ‘kay?”

This time, when you pulled him close, Sanji’s arms moved to wrap around you too, one snaking around your waist, while the other cradled your head into his chest. 

He sighed in contentment at the feeling of you against him, marveling at the way your bodies fit perfectly like puzzle pieces — like you were made just for him. 

This close to him, you could feel his heart pounding a million beats per minute, and you wondered if he could feel yours racing at the same speed. 

After a few minutes — or hours, you couldn’t tell — Sanji admitted, “Still feel like my heart’s gonna explode.”

You chuckled and confessed, “Mine too.”

Sanji pulled away slightly from the embrace but kept you close, not intending to let you go anytime soon now that he finally had you in his arms. A speck of insecurity was evident in his expression as he searched your eyes, looking for validation that you wanted this as much as he did. Yes, Sanji blatantly flirted with you all the time, but at this moment, faced with the real possibility of something more, he was terrified. He was scared that you would regard his actions as unserious or thought that his feelings were a mere infatuation, when in fact, it ran so much deeper than that. 

Sanji started to tremble, and your grip on him tightened, steadying him. You caressed his back in a soothing motion and gave him an encouraging smile, while he observed you for another long second. Your eyes must have conveyed to him what you were too shy to profess through words right now, because Sanji inched the slightest bit forward, seemingly emboldened by what he found in your gaze. 

“Can I-” He gulped and cleared his throat before trying again, “Can I kiss you?” 

You felt your heart drum more erratically against your ribcage, if that was even possible. If he couldn’t feel it before, then he definitely could now. 

Warmth rushed into your cheeks as you nodded. Sanji tentatively brought his hands to your face, while yours found a home on his chest. You closed your eyes as he slowly leaned in, and finally, his lips met yours. 

Sanji’s kiss was gentle and soft, but electrifying at the same time. Full of passion, but also slow and unhurried, just like all these mornings you two share together. 

It was everything you ever imagined, and more.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbled against your lips, “Like sugar cookies.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, still in disbelief at how lucky he was to be here, having this moment with his precious sweetheart at last. 

You both were quiet for a short while before letting out relieved laughs, simply exhilarated at the thought of your long-held feelings being reciprocated.

“Can we do that again?” Sanji asked hesitantly.

You fondly laughed and reassured him, “Sanji, you can kiss me anytime you want.” 

He grinned widely, before closing the gap once more. His lips had barely grazed yours when the door to the kitchen burst open, “Good morning, yo ho ho ho!”

You and Sanji immediately leaped apart from each other as if poked by a hot iron, a space far too wide for your liking suddenly materializing between the two of you.

“Ah, my apologies.” Brook said with a hand covering his mouth, though he sounded more amused rather than sorry, “Am I interrupting something?”

Your face felt like it was burning, the heat spreading quickly down your neck as you awkwardly folded your arms across your chest, refusing to respond to the musician’s question. 

Sanji’s face was similarly flushed, but he also looked absolutely furious that someone dared to interrupt a scene that he had been dreaming about day and night for a very, very long time.

The cook quickly took the kettle off the burner and poured some hot water into a teapot he had already prepared earlier in the morning.  

“Here’s your morning tea.” He thrust a tray with the teapot and a cup onto Brook’s bony hands, before shooing him out, “Now get out, you creepy skeleton!”

He kicked the door shut in Brook’s face and sighed, rubbing his temples while grumbling about the geezer’s awful timing, before turning back to you.

Sanji’s bashful smile slowly returned when he saw you giggling in amusement at his outburst, which, he admitted, was a tad excessive. Oh well, he’d apologize to Brook later, but right now, he had something more important to get to. And no, it wasn’t finishing breakfast prep. That could wait — he was nearly done anyway.

Your heartbeat picked up all over again as he strode purposefully across the kitchen toward you,

“Now, where were we, sweetheart?”

a/n: yes i stole that “something sweet for someone sweet” line from opla sanji - couldn't get my mind off it. anyway, all of my fics so far have been platonic (or romance-adjacent at most), so this was actually my first attempt at writing a more romance-centric fic. i hope that was okay?? feedback and constructive criticisms are always welcome!

↳ masterlist

[abiatackerman]

Levi Ackerman as a BOYFRIEND

Just how I think Levi would act if he becomes a boyfriend.....

He'll make sure you take shower everyday and clean yourself properly.... This will be his first priority.

He won't say romantic things to you nor he'll be clingy we all know Levi's not like that. But he'll make sure to make you a cup of tea everyday.

Once in a while he'll visit your room and will force you to organise and clean it. He hates messes...

No matter how busy he's... He'll always try to make up some time for you. It's not like he'll take you on a romantic date or something... He'll just make up some time so that you two will be able to spend some time alone on the roof, gazing at the stars while making small talks.

He'll make sure you train properly everyday. You might think he's being tough with you but it's for you to become stronger because he doesn't wanna lose you... Never. He'll even request Erwin to put you in the safe position or in his squad during the expeditions.

He'll make sure you're in good health. That you're eating properly three times a day or that you're getting enough sleep and not doing something unhealthy which may create some chances of you getting sick.

Even if you accidentally get sick, he'll definitely take care of you. No matter how much you protest, he'll stay by your side (if he doesn't have more important works to do) 24 hours if possible. He'll even do the paperwork in your room so that he'll be able to keep an eye on you.

He'll be the most loyal boyfriend you've ever seen. No matter how many beautiful or sexy women would try to seduce him, he'll never fall for them. He's love for you is real and he'll just look at those annoying ladies with disgust and will shove them off with his best glares or by being rude to them.

He'll never show you that he's jealous. He never knew what jealousy is until he started to feel some weird anger and possessiveness whenever he would see you to talk to another charming cadet and laugh at them. He won't say anything to you he'll just have a small talk with those cadets who he'll think are trying to make a move on you. Otherwise if he's gonna feel nothing's wrong, he'll leave the matter.

He never liked sex. For him it's a messy and filthy thing. And since you always act like a brat after it and refuse to clean all the mess you two make, he gets more pissed. But whenever he's inside you while you're smiling up at him moaning his name... For him it feels like heaven, a feeling he never felt before. Though you both don't get enough time to make love, whenever you get needy he'll manage time for both of you. He'll always make sure you're comfortable while making love and will instinctively whisper "I love you" while doing it.

He was never good with his words or feelings. He knows he can't express his love for you properly with words and emotions. So he'll try to show how much he loves you by doing little things. Like sometimes buying you books or foods or whichever you like... Sometimes helping you with cleaning... Helping you to organise your room, clothes and other things... Helping you with your paperwork... Sometimes checking up on you to see if everything's ok... Using less curse and rude words when he's with you... Sometimes even trying to smile whole heartily when he's with you.

He's a good listener rather than a speaker. He doesn't love to talk so he'll just let you speak and listen to you. Sometimes he'll try to make some snarky remarks just to make you laugh and to see your smile.

Whenever you'll act bratty and won't listen to him he'll just sigh, throwing you over his shoulder he'll bring you to his office to give you some punishment. Starting by slapping your ass it'll depend on you where the punishment will end. It may end by making a mess due to having a steamy sex or just by him patting your head when you'll finally agree with his terms. Totally depends on you, he'll just follow your mood.

He'll sometimes will hint to you that he'll love to spend his whole life with you. Like asking you some questions like do you like children? What's your plan after the war is over? He'll never directly say that he wants to marry you and start a family with you so badly. Since a serious war is going on he'll just hope you two will be alive and will see the end of it... And then you both will get married and lead a happy life with a bunch of kids you two will make.

He'll try to protect you with his life. He'll take care of anything or anyone which he'll think is threatening to you. He'll always have your back and will hold you close when you're scared. He'll try his best to always keep you unharmed... No matter what....

A/N: This is how "I" head cannon Levi as a boyfriend. You can head cannon him in your way and I have nothing against you. So please, no hate words.

[zeezelweazel]

I beg you make a part 2 of the Wally fic where something happens between her and reader (maybe reader catches Wally in one of the fantasies)

Lia Wälti| Dream Come True|

______________________________________

I wasn't planning on making a part two but since you guys asked so nicely

Guess who finally entered their 20s :)

Part two of "Fantasise"

TW: fingering, degradation, spanking, choking, strap on use, mention of masturbation

____________________________________________________

Lia had to go to training the other day like nothing happened. She tried to avoid you and for the most part she was successful. But of course, she couldn't avoid you forever, you are playing for the same team after all.

Lia stepped into the gym and when she saw it was empty she sighed relieved. That is until she moved further inside the room and saw you on the leg press. Your muscles were shining with sweat and your breathing was heavy from the all the exercise. Your legs were moving up and down slowly and Lia licked her lips as she stood there, ogling you like she was back into one of her fantasies.

"Hey, came to train Lia?" The Swiss woman jolted in surprise when she heard your voice. Lia's brown eyes locked into yours and for a moment she thought she saw something there. She shook her head and smiled politely before she moved on to start training.

After she was done with training Lia packed her things and started moving towards the exit of the gym until she felt you tug on her wrist. Lia turned to look at you and you smirked at her.

"Want to come to my place?" Lia stared at you shocked, simply trying to process your words. The invitation was clear, your voice was flirty and your body language was hinting at one thing only. Lia's cheeks flushed when she remembered what she did last night but all the same, she was confused about where this came from. You've never showed signs of liking her before so why now all of a sudden?

The longer she took to answer the more certain you became of your suspicions. You weren't blind and as someone who's slept with many women you knew the signs of someone being into you.

You also knew Lia, albeit not very well but well enough. Enough to know that all her exes were as interesting as dull dish water. Lia screamed vanilla, not just her perfume, but just with the way she carried herself you could tell this woman has never been properly fucked before. Which is a shame considering how absolutely gorgeous she is with her pretty face and her soft lips and those killer doe eyes that only made you want to absolutely wreck her.

Lia's lips were opening and closing but no words left her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, clearly not expecting you to be this forward. In the end she didn't say anything, she simply nodded and you grinned down at her, like a wolf to a lamp.

Closing the bedroom door softly behind her Lia took a moment to simply take in your room. It was nicely decorated and very much you. Though Lia didn't have much time to appreciate it. Your hands framed her face and her eyes stared up at you. There was this hesitant and curious innocence that you couldn't resist.

Your brought your lips together, the kiss hard but slow, giving her time to relax and get used to it. You pulled her in and Lia threaded her hands through your hair. You dominated the kiss easily and Lia's whimpers were swallowed by your tongue. You manoeuvred your bodies towards the bed and when the back of her knees hit the bed she sat down.

You climb on her lap and press feverish kisses across her neck. Lia sighs and moves her head back to give you more access. Her hands move down to start undoing the buttons of her blouse and you smirk against her neck when you take notice. You let Lia throw away her top and thread her fingers through your hair as you willingly move down to her collarbone. Sneaking your hands around her midsection you unhook her bra and take it off before pulling back to stare at her chest unabashedly.

Lia blushes under your gaze and resists the urge to cover her breasts with her hands. You shakily exhale through your nose as you take her breasts in your hands softly at first before pinching her tight nipples. Lia yelps not expecting the sudden movement. You lean in to press kisses against her jaw while your hands roughly squeeze her tits. Lia gasps when you lick a hot line up to her ear.

"Tell me Lia, what do you think about when you touch yourself?"

Lia almost chokes on air at your words. There's no way you could possibly know. This is probably some sort of foreplay question, right? But still how is she supposed to answer without telling on herself?

You seem to notice Lia's internal turmoil but you don't say anything to the brunette. You let her think it through while you move down to remove her pants. Lia's head is spinning but she still lifts her hips up to help you remove her pants. You grin when you notice the wet patch on her lacy underwear.

Lia had yet to answer your question but the moment you started slowly removing her panties her mind turned fuzzy with pleasure. The cold air hit her dripping cunt and she bit her lip to confide a moan. She whimpered when you ran a single finger through her folds and she spread her legs just a bit more. You smirked and nipped her neck teasingly.

"Do you think about me fucking you when you touch yourself Lia?"

Lia's eyes went wide and her hand clasped your wrist. If it wasn't for the fact that a new wave of wetness hit your finger you'd think that the brunette didn't like the comment. A deep red blush spread over her face and Lia knew she was absolutely done for. She didn't have the mind to ponder over how you know, just that this fact alone made her so wet.

You moved your fingers up to fondle her throbbing clit and Lia whined all high pitched and needy. Lia noticed how horribly dry her throat is only when she opened her mouth to finally answer your probing questions. She swallowed once and looked you in the eyes before answering.

"Yes." She choked out an answer and you chuckled and teasingly dipped your fingers inside her clenching hole only to pull them away and move up to play with her clit once more. "That's not enough princess. You know what I want to hear."

Lia whimpered and threw her head back, face flushed a deep red at your relentless teasing. She took in a few deep breaths to collect herself.

"I-I think about you tying me up and-" Lia's voice closed up when you shoved two fingers inside her tight pussy without warning. You brought your free hand up to play with her breasts and it was getting almost impossible for Lia to think, much less answer your question.

"Go on baby, finish that thought."

Your strict but sweet tone send a shiver up Lia's spine and the Swiss woman has to fight with herself to form a coherent sentence.

"I think about you tying me up and fucking me while you're choking me." Your eyes visibly darkened at Lia's words and you resisted the urge to just push her on the bed and fuck her senseless. You lean in and after a strong bite on her neck you slowly kiss towards her ear.

"Let's make your dreams come true then."

You pull back, removing your mouth and your fingers from Lia, leaving the brunette alone and desperate. Lia sits on the edge of the bed waiting for you to come back. With you busy searching the closet it doesn't take long for the Swiss to get impatient. Lia slowly drags a hand down her body and runs a single finger through her folds. Her mind almost starts to wander on its own but before Lia can sneak a finger inside a harsh slap on her thigh makes her jolt. Her eyes snap open and they first meet your furious eyes before sliding lower to land on the big appendage between your legs.

Lia gulpes at the sight of the big cock in front of her face. She's imagoned you fucking her many times but this is the first time she's actually seen such a big strap. Now she's not so sure she can take it. Before Lia can voice her worries she feels yet another slap, this time on her sensitive clit. Lia yelps and her legs snap closed as you thread your other hand into her hair and tug her down until Lia falls on her knees.

You could moan just at the sight of her like this with her pretty doe eyes looking up at you, legs splayed open just a little on the cold floor and hands behind her back. Your hand moves from her hair down to her jaw and your thumb glosses over her pretty lips.

"Open your mouth like the good little slut you are."

Lia hesitantly does as you ask, not really knowing what to do from there. You grin at her innocence before taking the cock in your hand and slowly stroke it. You push the head of the cock against Lia's lips and the brunette whimpers slightly. Slowly she presses small kisses on the cock head before moving lower and back up again.

You use your free hand to guide Lia to take the cock in her mouth. Lia moans around the shaft as your hand tugs on her hair and forces her to take more. Lia gags and immediately recoils, the brunette panting on the floor with saliva dripping down her chin. You pat her cheek reassuringly when she pouts up at you.

"Don't worry, I'll train your whore mouth to take all of my cock."

Lia moans and gets up again to push her lips against yours for a feverish kiss. Lia groans against your lips and you take the chance to push your tongue in her mouth. You two slowly move up the bed and Lia's hands desperately pull at your top. You pull back and take your shirt off only to push Lia down before she gets the chance to touch you. You reach on your drawer and pull out a set of handcuffs. Lia smirks and cheekily puts her hands up above her head ready for you to finally tie her down.

You smile at the brunette's newly found confidence and pull a black pair of leather handcuffs from your bedside table. You secure her hands on the bedpost and make sure the Swiss is comfortable before moving your head down to bite and suck on her neck. With her hands tied Lia is unable to push your head lower towards her aching heat so she's left squirming against you. As a result Lia receives a sharp slap on the side of her thigh that only makes her wetter. She whimpers when you take a nipple in your mouth and suck. Her head is dizzy, mind spinning in pleasure when you bite down on the tender flesh of her breast.

All the different sensations drive her crazy and she's so out of it she gasps when you run your cock through her folds. Lia throws her head back when you try to push the head in and she tries to relax to accommodate the sheer size of it but it doesn't seem to be working. Lia moans loudly at the stretch when the head pushes past her entrance but after a few minutes of you shifting your hips and pushing in slowly Lia whines loudly in frustration.

"I can't take it. It won't fit." You move one of your hands from her waist to the column of her throat and squeeze until Lia's eyes snap closed. You chuckle and thrust your hips forward, hard and deep, as you watch Lia's pussy swallow more of your cock.

"You will take it. Fuck, that's it baby, you take my cock so well." Your hips keep moving as you slowly start upping the pace. Your thrusts turn from deep and hard to fast and shallow while you work Lia's tight cunt open. Lia is left to thrash hopelessly on the bed, her tightly clasped hands not allowing much movement. The brunette couldn't make loud sounds due to the pressure from your hand, still steady on her throat.

With a steady pace the fake dick keeps pushing farther in and Lia's head spins from the stretch, accomodating the pain mixed with pleasure. With a particularly harsh thrust and a high pitched breathless moan from Lia you finally bottom out and you groan, putting both of your hands on her hips and grinning down at her. Lia opens her eyes, chest heaving with deep breaths and her eyes lock with your before following your line of sight. Lia moans softly when she's greeted with a soft bulge on her lower belly. Your hands stroke over her abs and you groan when you feel your cock nestled deep inside the midfielder.

"Fuck, Y/N, please." Lia started rolling her hips against yours, desperate for you to start moving again. Your fingers squeezed her hips and you leaned down for one final kiss before you begun pounding into her once more.

Without your hands restricting her airways Lia is now moaning freely and you almost groan at the pornographic sounds that leave the normally quiet woman. You groan at the beautiful sight of the woman under you almost shaking from the pleasure. Lia can barely form any coherent words but you can make out pleas and sounds that remind you too much of your name. Lia's thighs begin to shake and you feel your own orgasm approaching fast.

"You're so beautiful. That's it come for me pretty girl."

You try to push Lia closer to the edge by bringing one of your hands to rub at her clit in short and fast circles. Lia tugs at the restraints harshly and you know that if her hands were free she'd be raking her fingernails down your back.

"I'm gonna -" the words barely leave Lia's mouth before the Swiss blacks out as her whole body shakes. Your hips keep moving as your high approaches quickly and you feel yourself getting close. The picture of Lia lying beneath you with a fucked out expression is enough to push you over the edge. The orgasm racks through your body and you fall limp on Lia. You take a few moments to collect yourself before you push of the midfielder and slowly remove the strap. Lia whines quietly and tugs at her wrists once, you quickly get the message and take off the handcuffs. She sighs and stretches on the bed, finally able to move her body freely. You grab some lotion and rub it on her wrist softly and Lia tries not to blush at how soft and gentle you're being.

Lia has never done this before. Not really knowing what this is that's going on between you, but as far as Lia is concerned you aren't supposed to cuddle in bed and laugh until the late hours of the night with your supposed one night stand.

____________________________________________________

[gloomwitchwrites]

Say Yes

Bounty Hunter Boba Fett x Female Reader

Content & Trigger Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, heavy suggestive themes, protective!Boba, Mandalorian!Boba, light angst, non-descriptive sex

Word Count: 2.5k

A young, handsome bounty hunter on Tatooine makes it a daily intention to ask you to marry him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // fluffuary 2024 masterlist

Mando’a Translations: cyar’ika – darling / sweetheart riduur – partner / spouse “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde” – marriage vows

“Marry me, cyar’ika.”

You glance up from the worn open tome resting on the counter in front of you. “Again? Really, Boba?”

The Mandalorian helmet, dented with flaking green paint, tilts slightly to the right. “You called me ‘Boba’ this time,” teases the bounty hunter.

You roll your eyes and push off from the counter, cheeks heating even as you grumble in false irritation.

Boba Fett, Jabba the Hutt’s favorite mercenary for hire, has asked you to marry him every day for several weeks now. And each time, you have refused him. For the first few, you were overly polite. But as his attempts continued, your polite rejections transformed into snarky quips and blatant dismissals.

It’s not like you don’t find the man attractive. Underneath the armor is an incredibly handsome man, and his attention has always been sincere. But Boba Fett is a dangerous man, and you’re just a simple shopkeeper trying to make a living in Mos Espa. In that regard, the two of you are incompatible no matter how much he persists and chases after you.

“I like how you say my name,” continues Boba, his voice a soft purr. “Sounds beautiful on your tongue.”

“And you are too forward,” you snap, knowing that your sharpness is just a cover. Which is silly, because you do like him, and Boba seems to understand this. Boba burrows beneath your skin, and you cannot dig him out.

“Am I?” he asks with mock offense. You really want to throttle him, but you also really want to kiss him.

“Yes. I don’t know how many times I have to say this, Fett,” you emphasize, deliberately using his last name. “But a ‘no’ is a ‘no’ even if you don’t like it.”

Yep. Push him away. Keep pushing. Maybe he’ll take the hint this time.

Boba Fett stands tall, arms crossed over his chest, one hip slightly popped. With the helmet on, you have no idea what his expression might be or what he’s feeling. Not knowing is maddening, and it quickens your heartbeat, a growing tingle buzzing in the tips of your fingers.

“So, all those touches meant nothing to you?” he asks with just the faintest hint of roughness in his tone.

“Yes,” you lie.

Boba shifts on his feet, shoulders straightening. “What about all the kisses you’ve given me? Hm? Nothing?”

Kriffing hell, why is this man always so direct? It’s nice that Boba is good about telling you what he wants and what he’s thinking for the most part, but it always catches you off-guard. It makes you weak, melting you into goo that he can mold however he wishes.

“Those are not enough to build a marriage, Boba,” you shrug. “There has to be more.”

“But there is more.” He steps around the counter, stepping into your space. “Isn’t there?”

Boba is right. There is more. There has always been more. Whenever Boba is on Tatooine, he is visiting you, talking with you, bringing you gifts, fixing things around the shop without you having to ask. He has offered to take you out after you’ve closed shop. He routinely takes a personal interest in your safety and security. Because of that, no one bothers you or tries to harass additional credits out of you. They stay away and respect you because they see you as Boba’s woman.

And it isn’t only that. He only ever speaks softly to you. He only ever treats you with respect and shows general interest in your life. The most maddening thing is how many women have actively shown their interest in him to his face, and he has brushed them all aside. Even after all these refusals on your end, Boba still declines their advances, and shows up at your shop each day insisting that you marry him.

“Why do you keep denying this, cyar’ika? You know I’d make you happy.” Boba is standing too close, almost on top of you.

“The shop is closed,” you reply. “If you’re not going to make a purchase, you should leave.”

Boba nods his head and backs up, reaching for an item off the shelf without looking. He deposits some credits on the counter, much more than what the item is actually worth.

“I’ll return tomorrow,” he says over his shoulder, tapping the counter as he makes his exit.

The soft chime that alerts you to when the front door opens echoes throughout the room.

You’re in the backroom organizing. It’s the next day, and Boba hasn’t shown himself yet. This might be him, but it’s likely not. There are times when Boba does not come, and you are fully aware that those are times when Jabba sends him off for a job.

“Sorry. We’re closed.” You step out from the backroom and immediately freeze.

Three Nikto bikers loiter in the middle of the shop. It’s evident that they are not here to purchase anything. Their dark eyes roam over the shelves and tables, but once they notice you, they focus in, drawing closer.

“Apologies,” you say, attempting to project your voice, to sound tougher than you are. “We’ve closed for the evening. If there is something you need right away, I can ring you up. Otherwise, you’ll need to leave.” You do your best to keep your voice steady and calm, but you hear the gentle shake.

“This street is our new territory,” hisses the leader of the group. “We were stopping by to offer our…services.”

Services, meaning protection, meaning “pay us or you’ll be a target.”

Tatooine might be overrun with crime lords and criminal activity, but the main powers at play are not known to harass the smaller folks just trying to make a living. These are outliers. These are individuals who answer to no one but themselves, and believe they can carve a piece out for their own gain.

Rarely are they ever successful, but that doesn’t mean they don’t try.

Just as you open your mouth to reply, the soft chime comes again. This time everyone turns and you sigh with relief when you see who it is.

“Boba Fett,” says the Nikto slowly. His shoulders stiffen and they all put their hands on their blasters.

The bounty hunter does no answer right away. His helmet moves, scanning the Nikto, and then you, assessing. Even from across the shop, you sense Boba’s anger. There are few things that rile him up, but you’re one of them.

“It’s not smart moving in on Jabba’s territory. Or to harass what’s mine.” When Boba says mine, he growls it. The possessiveness in his tone heats your flesh, sends a sharp spike of desire down to your belly.

The Nikto all glance at each other before the leader addresses Fett. “We didn’t know the female was yours, Boba.” He holds his hands out in a placating gesture, indicating that he didn’t mean any harm. Yet you know that isn’t true. Their intention from the start was to harass you for credits.

You scoff at female but decide to let it go.

“I think it’s best that you leave.” Boba steps to the side.

The duo glance at their leader for direction. The Nikto’s features are impassive, but he eventually inclines his head, exiting as Boba insist they do. When the last one leaves, Boba momentarily glances in your direction. The door stands open, and Boba exits with him.

When it whooshes shut, you sprint over to the wall panel, immediately engaging the lock and shuttering the windows. You stand in the silent shop for a few minutes trying to calm your heartrate. Once it’s manageable, and not beating so hard it might burst from your chest, you head upstairs to your small apartment above the shop.

By the time you’re curled up in bed, you’re no longer anxious, but there is the slightest bit of tension that lingers in your limbs. Sighing, you turn over in the bed, only to hear the brief pulse of a jetpack shutting off and boots on the small balcony outside your bedroom window.

Slowly, you push up to sitting, the bedsheets falling to your waist. You know it’s Boba. He does this some nights. Camps out and protect you in the only way he knows how because you’re too stubborn to take him up on his numerous marriage proposals.

Tonight, it’s obvious as to why he’s out there. Part of you is reluctant to leave him outside. You’d prefer it if he were with you, within arm’s reach, to see him without the helmet. Plus, nights on Tatooine can grow cold. You want him inside where it’s warm.

On quiet feet, you go to the door that leads outside. Opening it silently, you stick your head out into the chilly air, finding Boba as he leans against the exterior wall, arms crossed.

“You should be in bed, cyar’ika,” chides Boba playfully.

You swallow, suddenly nervous now that you’re confronting him. “Do you want to come inside?” you ask, a bit hesitantly.

Maybe it’s the uncertainty in your tone, or the way you shrink back a bit into the interior of the room, because Boba is suddenly alert, all of his attention attuned to you.

Boba immediately pushes off from the wall and approaches you, his hand on the door, pushing it wider. “Are you hurt? Did one of them touch you?”

You shake your head vehemently. “No. I’m fine. Promise.”

Boba’s chest heaves slightly but you’re not sure if it’s from his sudden movement or a releasing of relief. He glances over his shoulder at Mos Espa, the t-shaped visor of his helmet fixated on the city’s skyline. Turning back, Boba nods.

You step away from the door and Boba enters. Even with the door closed and the windows’ shutters slanted to dim the moonlight, some of it still spills over the room like tiny white rivers.

His helmet hisses as the pressure seal disengages. Slowly, Boba lifts the helmet off his head and sets it aside on a nearby table. He runs his fingers through his dark hair, the ends sticking up slightly after he does so. With the faintest movement, Boba turns, and that moonlight cuts sharp glowing lines over his face, highlighting tanned skin and dark eyes.

You don’t even realize you’re moving closer to him until Boba grabs you by the waist and pulls you against his armor-clad body. Instinctively, your hands reach out, locking onto the beskar. Boba’s head dips and yours rises to meet him automatically, and yet there is no connection. It is simply holding, a waiting between two hesitant people.

“You haven’t asked me to marry you today,” you murmur.

The corner of Boba’s lips turns upward in a soft smile. “Will you marry me, cyar’ika?”

“No,” you say automatically, before the two of you start laughing.

“Let’s try that again.” Boba reaches up and cradles your cheek. “Cyar’ika. Will you marry me? Will you allow me to speak the words of my people? And will you speak them back?”

The words of his people. The Mandalorian marriage vows. You are distinctly aware of what they are and what they mean. Which is why Boba’s earnestness isn’t fake to you. Mandalorians take their weddings vows seriously even though the process of exchange is simple. It is the intention behind the exchange that is most important to them.

That is how you know Boba speaks the truth, that him asking you to marry him is a genuine desire of his.

“Passion does not make a relationship,” you reply.

The answer is a shift away from actually having to answer. How many times have you and Boba ended up on the floor of the backroom after rejecting him? It’s more than you can count on your hands.

“That’s all this is to you?” he laughs. “You know I can give you more. I do more than that now.”

You curl forward a bit, rest your forehead against the beskar. “I’m scared,” you whisper.

“Of what?”

“Of what will change.”

Boba’s fingers brush under your chin and lightly guide your gaze back to his. “I wouldn’t ask you to give anything up.”

“Yes, but—”

Boba gives the slightest shake of his head and you instantly quiet. “Do you want me?” he asks. “Tell the truth.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I want you,” you breathe, allowing the words to drip off your tongue.

“May I have one of your kisses?” he asks softly, one gloved thumb lightly pressing down on your bottom lip.

“Yes,” you breathe.

Boba closes the distance, forms perfectly to you. It is slow and delicate and sweet. Your body hums with energy, and when you press for more, Boba growls and pulls back, hastily ripping off his gloves to reveal his bare hands.

Then he’s cupping the side of your face, drawing you back to him, tasting and tasting and tasting until your fingers are clawing at him in desperation. When he breaks the kiss, you still lean forward as if you can reach him.

“Then repeat the words with me, cyar’ika. Become my riduur.”

Boba presses his lips to yours, draws forth an air-stealing shiver from deep within your lungs.

“Mhi solus tome.”

“Mhi solus tome,” you repeat.

We are one together.

Boba slides an arm around your waist to drape softly over your curves. “Mhi solus dar’tome,” he says.

You say it back to him. “Mhi solus dar’tome.”

We are one when parted.

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

We share all.

This time, Boba slots his pelvis against yours, and you understand his heated intention.

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

“Mhi ba’juri verde,” you say with shaky breath.

We will raise warriors.

Boba snuggles the side of your neck, breathes in your scent. “I’d like to lay with my riduur.” His fingers find the edge of your sleeping robes.

“As long as I can have my riduur the same way.”

Boba grins against your throat. Together, the two of you remove his armor, piece by piece by piece. The moment his flightsuit is unzipped and he steps out of it, Boba is on you, drawing your lips to his, desperately claiming what is now so rightfully his.

Your own clothes are gone before making it to the bed. Boba runs his hands over your back, sliding down to lift you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his middle, and Boba carries you off, placing you gently onto your back.

His mouth upon your skin is a brand. Hot. Searing. It goes lower, lower still until you’re crying out for him, begging for him to be with you as your riduur should. Boba is happy to do so, sliding between your thighs so perfectly, you both lose yourselves momentarily before becoming nothing but a raging storm, waves crashing into each other repeatedly until one of you breaks.

Rest does not come until the morning suns begin to ascend over the horizon. You do not open your shop. And Boba does not return to Jabba’s palace.

There is peace for a while.

Harmony.

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@padawancat97 @foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @garfunklevibes2012 @tiredmetalenthusiast @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @kayden666 @cherryofdeath @enfppixie @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @beebeechaos

[maple-the-awesome]

He's Becomes a Dad || Part 2/2

Part 1

Pairing: Twilight, Warrior, Sky, Wild x Reader

Overview: Congratulations, you're new parents 🎉 Some of the Links are prepared. Others...might need a moment to gather themselves. But rest assured! At the end of the day, they're all going to get a handle on this whole dad thing. Warning: Mentions of miscarriages for Sky's section. Nothing to detailed, but it's there so beware 🙅‍♀️

Zelda Masterlist 🤎Fandom Masterlist

It's never been a surprise to you that Twilight would want kids of his own. He never even had to say it aloud, you could just read that look in his eyes whenever playing with the village children. It was a wordless yet ever so contagious request: I want this. And how were you to deny him? Just look at him!

Simply put, children were a top priority of yours almost as soon as you married. It didn't take long for you to become pregnant either (not with Twilight's fierce passion and your shared disinterest towards 'waiting'). Regardless, there were still many tears shed when you found out - all happy, of course, as your husband spun you around in his arms while you both laughed giddily in between quick kisses.

Let's get this straight: Twilight is prepared-prepared. Ordon is that type of close-knit community where everyone helps raise each other's kids, so despite this being his first rodeo as a new dad himself, he has plenty of experience taking care of youngsters. As a ranch-hand, he's also perfectly accustomed to the whole birthing process, having hand-delivered more baby goats than he can count, so don’t worry, nothing about the ‘less glamorous’ sides of pregnancy scare him. 

With that being said, Twilight doesn't stress too much aside from the normal concerns about your health, after all he recognizes that not every pregnancy is the same for every woman, but that's exactly why he makes it his personal mission to ensure your comfort. 

Feeling particularly ill? He'll make you all the tasty pumpkin soup you could ask for which, believe it or not, works wonders for an upset stomach. Just having a bad day? He'll happily let you cuddle with Wolfie to help you relax. Restless? He'll take you on a horse ride no matter the hour and if you're too far along in your pregnancy to climb onto Epona, a simple walk to Ordon's spring will do since that's the perfect spot to soak your sore body. Twilight is no above carrying you there himself if you ask.

Trust that your every worry is always smoothed; Twilight is there to reassure you no matter how 'little' the problem. Have concerns he can't speak on as a man? He'll happily go ask one of the other village women for you if you're too embarrassed to do so yourself, in fact this guy's already been talking Rusl and Uli's ears off for advice since day one. He doesn't want to leave a single thing to chance regardless of how confident he already feels which is probably why there's a stack of parenting books on his nightstand. Did he clear the shelves in Castle Town? Probably.

You're pretty sure that Twilight already had a 'go-bag' put together before the end of your first trimester, although he’d add to it like a paranoid squirrel up until your due-date. Curious, you had gone through it one day just to get a hint of how overboard he might've gone. Diapers, snacks, blankets, comfortable clothes for you, more parenting books...He does realize you're doing a home birth, right? Most of this stuff he could just grab from the cabinet if needed, but it's sweet that he's trying to be organized.

It isn’t really news to anyone that Hyrule’s heroes tend to land on the quieter side and usually Twilight isn’t much different…There’s a key word in there because you’re quite certain he hasn’t actually shut up since the second you told him you’re pregnant. He can hardly keep his excitement to himself! Oh, but it’s adorable, especially on those nights when he’ll fall asleep mumbling about his joy all while using your swollen stomach as a pillow. It makes your heart swell every time.

When you eventually go into labor, Twilight doesn’t show much outward panic if he has any at all, however he does feel incredibly terrible to watch you go through it without any relief. He feels absolutely useless while unable to take away your suffering the way a good husband should, so to make up for it, he does his utmost best to be your rock during those long hours, talking you through each painful contraction and doing everything in his power to distract you. Back rubs, walks around the house, whispers of sweet nothings…He’s by your side well into the night, keeping it up until it finally comes time to start pushing.

He definitely was not going to say it while you were going through the motions because he’d like to keep his head, but human and goat births are pretty much the same thing minus the actual cursing. He’s in his element then, knowing exactly what to do to ensure a safe delivery for mama and baby. His movements are almost automatic, trained by years of practice as he cleans the little one off before taking the time to admire them fully.

Are you shocked that Twilight is teary eyed? Not at all. Are you upset that he almost forgets about you entirely for a second because he’s so entranced by the baby? Also no, since you need a moment to catch your breath anyway. Don’t worry, though, he does eventually pass you your son reluctantly before hovering at your side with possibly the widest grin you’ve ever seen on the man since your wedding day. 

The rest of the night is calm from there on, filled with quiet whispers and cooing as you both take turns partaking in skin-to-skin contact with your baby. Will you be doing this again soon? You’re probably going to need a decent break to recover, but just know that your husband is absolutely ready whenever you are. In the meantime, expect to be showered in endless love and affection because you deserve it for the priceless gift you’ve given him.

Your relationship with Warrior has always been ‘slow moving’ if compared to most other couples’. For starters, while he may have a formidable reputation for being a supposed lady's man, all that 'skill' of his would go flying out the window whenever faced with your presence, so it took some time (and maybe a near-death experience) for any confessions to be made. In his defense, you're a very beautiful and strong woman who happened to be one of his superiors during most of the war, so please excuse him for usually being awed into silence whenever you showed even an ounce of interest in ‘lil ol’ him. His brain would literally become a windows error.

Even after Warrior did finally find the courage to ask you out, your respected jobs and heavy workloads have often forced your relationship to be put on the back-burner. Marry you? Hylia knows he’s been DYING to! You’re already wearing the ring and everything, but it's not like you're going anywhere anytime soon and he'd rather wait a few extra years to enjoy the perfect moment rather than rush the whole ‘happiest-day-of-our-lives’ thing during a bad time.

Luckily for him, you've never needed a formal certificate to know you own his heart. He proves it to you in other ways every day from cheesy love letters to overly romantic dates during your rare off time, and while you normally adore being the sole subject of his affection, that's exactly how you ended up in this very situation.

You're both adults and as such you won't pretend to be innocent: This wasn't planned in the slightest. Your jobs can be quite chaotic, as previously addressed, so you just wanted to help your husband-to-be relax and destress a bit - nothing new for either of you in itself, although that particular evening would end up weighing heavily on your mind a few weeks later.

To be honest, when you first entered Warrior's office and instructed him to sit down with a stern voice that could rival Commander Impa's, he thought you must've finally grown tired of being engaged for several years, having come to him then to demand that he marry you sooner. Agreement was right on the tip of his tongue when you delivered the bombshell that you were pregnant instead.

Your tone was serious and expression calm, but Warrior knows you well enough to spot the hidden worry in your eyes. It’s justified, of course. Had either of you even discussed having kids before? He doesn’t think so. It’s not like having a baby is a bad thing, though. The idea of creating a small family with you is a pleasant one, it’s just…happening a lot sooner than preferred. You both would’ve liked more time to plan and prepare…but oh well. What’s done is done. 

The real concern is will your jobs allow you both time off to take care of a baby? It's not like a war is currently going on, so Hyrule won't suffer too much from having two of its best captains sidelined, however what happens if that doesn't remain the case? What if war breaks out tomorrow or the day after? Warrior can’t let his pregnant fiancée fight in battles! What kind of husband and father would that make him?! But at the same time, is he just supposed to ask that you sacrifice your career in order to spare his? THAT’S NO BETTER!

...All things considered, you'd say Warrior handles the news far better than some might've. Yes, he begins to ‘slightly’ overthink things, although that's exactly why you had him sit down first. Calmly, you take his hand and tell him how things will be (your own way of offering comfort not only to him, but yourself as well). The bottom line is that if you could successfully fight Ganondorf’s army together, you can raise a child together, too. Really, how much harder can it be? You already have some minor experience being unofficial parents to little Time and Wind during the war. Just don't give your own children any magic masks or wind controlling devices and you should be golden.

Thankfully, many of Warrior’s initial fears are proven to be irrational during the earliest stages of your pregnancy. Everyone else was positively thrilled to hear the news and even Impa gave her congratulations, explaining to your fiancé’s relief that she’ll simply assign you more deskwork until it’s fit for you to return back to your normal duties. All he has to worry about in the meantime is making sure you actually take it easy; only a slightly difficult task considering your headstrong nature and insistence on not being ‘coddled’, but hey, if anyone can handle it, it’s the guy who’s hellbent on marrying your stubborn butt one day.

Warrior will admit that there were still some nights when he would nearly pull his hair out while doubting if he’s actually ready to be a dad, however the moment you officially being showing is the same moment he forgets all about any possible regrets and replaces them entirely with daydreams filled with not only his lovely wife, but also a little one who will hopefully think the absolute world of him. He already knows he’ll think of it of them.

Although you may feel a bit nervous towards the prospect of suddenly being parents, that doesn’t change the fact that you wouldn’t choose anyone else to go through this journey with. One look to your side and you’re certain of it. The way Warrior holds his son for the first time, newborn wrapped comfortably in his scarf and dad, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion after hours of labor yet the proud smile evident on his face nevertheless…You were right before: so long as you do it together, you’ll excel in this whole ‘parenting-thing’.

You had married young - almost as soon as you were able after graduating from the Knight Academy. To everyone else on Skyloft, you have always been the picture image of an ideal couple; the hero and his beloved princess who somehow manage to be completely and utterly smitten with each other even years later. To call Sky your husband is a blessing in itself and you consider yourself lucky every single day. There’s only ever been one problem with your relationship - one single complaint you can think of where neither of you are truly responsible: your lack of children.

When you first married, there was lots of talk, after all everyone was simply dying to know when the first generation on the Surface would be born. Your parents were eager for grandchildren and Zelda, your best friend, had way too much fun teasing you over the matter by expressing her 'surprise' that Sky had yet to give you a baby despite how 'passionate' he’s always been towards you (she would make sure to use those exact words, too). 

Initially, you never minded anyone’s curiosity. It’s only natural to expect children from a newly wed couple. It's when that same couple reaches their third then sixth year of marriage without any trace of tiny feet or squealing laughter that those curious and well-meant questions grow quiet with unbearable pity, your shared excitement becoming shuttered sorrow.

At the start there was nothing to worry about. You were both young and not putting that much effort into it, so certain it wouldn't take long for your family to grow. Then the years began to pass and you would try everything the doctor recommended, but every test would still leave you as disappointed as the last. The absolutely worst form of despair came those few times you'd actually get your hopes up only to have them cruelly dashed a few months in.

What were you doing wrong? Sky would always hush your anxieties and do his utmost best to reassure you, however you knew by his own tears that your infertility hurt him just as much, especially when on those quieter nights, you'd suggest that perhaps you simply weren't meant to be parents - that the gods were just trying to tell you both something you were too stubborn to accept.

It's for that reason that you had such mixed emotions once finally able to fall pregnant again. You were optimistic deep down, however after six years of attempts and losses, you were wary to embrace too much joy right away which was shown in the way Sky held onto you for what felt like hours after you told him or how he slept each night with a hand on your stomach even in those early days, internally praying to the goddesses this would be the one.

A month passed...Then two...And three, and four…For once, you didn't feel sick aside from what was considered normal. Maybe a bit of high blood pressure the doctor kept a close eye on, but other than that he’d always tell Sky and you the same thing: they're healthy.

Even then, you’d say you remained extra cautious, not daring to eat nor do anything the doctor so much as hesitated against, however Sky was by far the worst when it came to worrying. As your husband, he considers your physical and mental well-being his personal responsibility, but as the father of your child? His work has doubled!

All chores were to be his alone so that you could rest. Any bout of sickness was closely monitored and tended to. His hand would remain on your stomach from beginning to end, although overtime it would be done less out of fear and more for the sake of bounding, often accompanied by his voice or the melody of his harp which he would happily play for you both whenever you were having a particularly difficult time falling asleep at night.

Now, you didn't dare tell anyone about your pregnancy during the first half, not wanting to deliver anymore bad news should it come, however once the remilit was out of the bag, you became the center of attention much to Sky's conflicted feelings. On one hand, you deserved it for all of your hard work growing a baby, but on the other, that overprotective dad-side of him couldn't help fretting over the vast number of harmful germs your guests could possibly be passing onto you and your unborn child. Did he make everyone wash their hands for ten minutes before visiting? Yes, yes he did.

Beyond being protective, Sky was also very emotional throughout the entire pregnancy maybe even more than you sometimes. He got teary-eyed after every doctor's appointment that confirmed the baby's development, while picking out names together, and even when you were yelling at him for something stupid because as far as he was concerned, you still looked so beautiful standing there with crossed arms and a round belly carrying his child. Oh, but none of that compared in the slightest to the tears that were shed when he actually held his daughter for the first time; that amount of waterworks could put the flood of Faron to shame!

Six years of waiting made you both lose hope. You assumed you’d never be able to have children of your own and even began to look towards other options such as adoption or simply living your lives childless forever…but the day your daughter was born was the day all your anxieties and doubts were finally put to rest. Now, as you cry happily with your husband, you can’t think of a single complaint towards your relationship; it’s officially as perfect as the precious little bundle in your arms.

Wild and you were still practically newlyweds when you gave him the 'thrilling' news. You were so happy to do so, too, barely able to bite back your excitement while watching your husband lift a small pair of baby pajamas out of a gift box. You were absolutely glowing as you eagerly awaited his reaction and all he could do was simply stare into space as his whole world came crashing down on top of him. Did he look horrified on the outside? He must've, because he swears he could’ve pinpointed the exact moment that shine in your eyes died, a frown etching its way onto your lips. What else was he supposed to do aside from fake a smile and embrace you, keeping you close to his chest so that your delight wouldn't be spoiled by his internal nervous breakdown?

Wild has zero right to be shocked. You had both been intimate (as tends to happen when you're married) not to mention you had made it perfectly clear from the start of your relationship that you would want a family one day. Judging on your eagerness towards the topic, it was never up for debate either; no kids would be a dealbreaker for you, so Wild had no choice but to quietly agree, too afraid to dare utter the truth or voice any hesitation because Hylia forbid you get the wrong idea and leave him. 

He thought it would be harmless. Some couples remain married for years before any children follow and you weren't in any big hurry, so he figured he'd have plenty of time to get his act together until the day of your dreams arrived; he didn't think it would happen during your first year of marriage! ...Now he's really dug himself into a hole it's too late to try escaping from…

He’s almost said something - a few times actually. He knows it’s only fair and that as your husband, he owes you proper communication, but each time he opens his mouth, his mind curses him with the image of your sadness. What if you think he doesn’t want this at all? What if you think he hates the baby and hates you for being pregnant? What if you concluded he must want to leave you so you decide to beat him to the punch?! 

…Okay, so Wild knows you aren’t going to just walk away. You’ve always been good at listening to his inner demons and acting as his strongest pillar of support, but that doesn’t change his fear that you might be hurt by whatever he has to say and he will not allow himself to ruin your own excitement. 

In the years that he’s known you, he can’t say he’s ever seen you quite as happy as when you found out about your baby. He knows he should match that joy, too. Most men do. Hell, Twilight practically sent a five-page essay bragging about his wife's first pregnancy. Truth be told, Wild actually does feel happy. On his better days, he feels that flicker of pride and a hint of eagerness because a family with you honestly sounds wonderful. The problem is, in his mind, it isn't a question as to what he wants, but rather what he deserves. 

So much has gone wrong in his past. It doesn’t matter how much you or anyone else assures him otherwise, it’s hard to shake the feeling that he failed Hyrule. He still suffers from so many nightmares and waves of guilt that he can’t properly put into words. You’re still having to shake him out of dazes and smooth his following sobs…How is he going to be a good dad and be there for his child when he can barely stand upon his own two feet like this?

Initially, Wild thought these feelings would go away; that’s why he never spoke them to you. He wanted so desperately to believe they wouldn’t linger, especially after you both got married. He lives in a peaceful world, has a nice home in a quiet village, a beautiful wife who adores him…He should’ve been able to move on from the Calamity already, so why hasn’t he? On his worst nights, it makes him wonder if he’ll ever be okay or if he’s just screwed you and the baby over by tying you both down to him.

These two sides of him - the hopeful and the pitiful - continue to battle for dominance inside Wild’s head throughout each step. Sometimes he’s genuinely smiling with you as you pick out baby names. Other times he’s sitting outside alone trying his damn hardest to remember any piece of his past that might make him feel at least a little better about his luck towards being a dad, preferably a time when he was actually good with kids or even had a family before. 

Wild’s internal dilemma comes to a head one fateful night when he’s awoken to the baby’s distressing cries. He had honestly already been awake after a mild case of anxiety, but you on the other hand are tired, worn from nine long months of pregnancy and the early days of active motherhood. The last thing he wants is for you to lose out on precious rest (a rare gift these days), so leaping out of bed, he’s quick to reach the baby’s crib.

Unfortunately, Wild’s natural instincts seem to basically stop right there at the crib’s side. Hands hovering above, he tries his best to calm his daughter through whispered assurances and attempts at cooing the same way he’s seen you do. When that doesn’t work, he awkwardly picks her up, cuddling her close to his chest while quietly pleading at this point. Is she hungry? Does she need a diaper change? Did she have a nightmare? Whatever it is, if you wake up, you’ll take over and he’ll be left to stand aside feeling like he can’t even do the basic task of comforting his own child and -

- To his astonishment, his efforts actually work. It really must’ve been as simple as a nightmare because slowly, the baby falls silent, seemingly forgetting all about her troubles as she finds solace gazing up at her daddy with the widest blue eyes and a stuck-out tongue that can’t seem to keep itself in her mouth. It looks rather goofy, so Wild can’t help but chuckle, although the sound is soft as his heart melts under the attention she holds towards him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it’s almost like she’s looking at her entire world…

Maybe some would say this moment isn’t necessarily anything special, but for Wild, it’s everything. As if suddenly a pro, he’s able to rock the little beauty gently back to sleep, his pleas turning into words of admiration as he tucks her into bed. There, he continues to keep watch over her until he feels tired himself, all the while thinking: he might be broken from years of trauma, and he might not be the best husband or parent out there because of it, but that's not going to stop him from doing everything in power to be there for his princesses.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + three

authors note: wow! omg, thank you all so much for the kind words of support for this story! it really does mean a lot to me, cause i know the content is pretty heavy.

also, if anyone has read the acotar series, i imagine the dynamic between roman and the twins to be a bit similar to the bat boys. and yes, we'll def see more of the twins moving forward.

in addition, if you want to be tagged, you have to explicitly ask as such. the last thing i want to do is tag someone i thought wanted to be tagged and didn't, and they end up triggered. :(

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, trauma responses (nightmares/night terrors), hints at suicidal thoughts, references to traumatic past

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

words: 9k

Roman doesn’t come back until the wee hours of the morning, and he’s out the house again before the sun is even up.

Solana knows all of this because she doesn’t sleep that night.

It’s not for lack of trying. She spends nearly two hours twisting and turning before finally accepting that sleep isn’t in the cards for her. She instead finds herself sitting on the floor of her bathroom, door locked, writing away in her journal. No letter to mom this time, just pure word vomit, all of her thoughts and feelings about everything that’s transpired. 

There’s as many tears as there are words, and like always post–writing, she feels a tad bit better. The best and only release she ever has is in her written word, all of the things she could never say aloud, melted from her head and sealed into paper.

When she’s done writing, Solana opts to read a book in her Kindle Library. Doing so makes her realize that she still doesn’t have her stuff from back home. It’s not that she has a lot, but the items she was told to pack just for the first few nights will only last just that—for a few days.

But, Solana doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask Roman about that. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask him for anything, not after she’s clearly and understandably upset him. She’ll just….she’ll just have to make do until it's noticed she's essentially living out of a suitcase. 

And Solana has a thought, an idea, that getting up early to fix him breakfast could be a good thing, something to tame his anger toward her. It’s the least that she can do.

But one look around Roman’s massive kitchen indicates he’s every bit the stereotypical bachelor. There’s only a couple of ingredients, not enough of anything to make an actual meal. There’s also a lot of “meal prep” meals, which makes sense. She can imagine he’s insanely strict with his diet and fitness. One can’t look like Roman Reigns without an intense amount of focus and dedication.

It makes her wonder just what kind of dietary restrictions and preferences she’ll have to learn about him to make meals that he can actually consume. Another question she needs to ask but doesn’t know how or when considering he already has very little to no interest in having anything to do with her.

It’s another thing she knows she’ll have to figure out but tries her best to focus on anything else besides the fact that she’s now married to a man who can’t stand her, the same man her family wants her to somehow assassinate.

Yes…..other things is a much better seat filler.

Solana briefly wonders how she’s going to get to work considering her car is still back at her dad’s house, but just when she’s considering calling an Uber, she’s met in the living room of Roman’s massive estate by none other than his right hand man and cousin.

Solo Sikoa 

All he says is, “ready?” And she realizes that this is how she’s to get to work, that he is to escort her. Him and another set of large men, guards as she realizes. A separate set of guards, not the ones who roam and patrol Roman’s mansion. 

Being around so many men….it’s a different kind of experience. Leaning more on the side of uncomfortable than anything. 

But, she’s at least a bit more at ease when Solo only opens the door to the back of the SUV and doesn’t join in, instead sitting in the passenger seat.

She's grateful for that.

Solo is almost the same exact person as his cousin. Large, strong, stoic and scary as hell. The only difference is that she’s not sure Solo is capable of sentences that include more than 1 to 3 words.

It’s obvious he’s not thrilled about being assigned as her personal guard, and she can’t blame him. There can’t be anything exciting about watching her boring life and making sure nothing happens to her during said boring life.

But Solana can’t deny there’s a small part of her that feels a small sense of comfort at having someone to look out for her. Even if she partially questions his loyalty to said job. Something happening to her wouldn’t do anything to anybody. At all. 

She’d just….cease to exist.

And lately….that hasn’t seemed like the worst thing ever. 

But, it’s when she arrives at work, goes into her office to start to prepare for the work day only to find her brother already waiting that that comfort is obliterated.

“Sis.” Wes' smile is tight and inauthentic, his eyes darting between her and Solo. “Sorry to scare you. I was just hoping we could talk.”

Talk….

Wes never wants to talk to her, not unless it’s him berating and screaming while he beats the shit out of her. 

“Alone.” He gives Solo a faux sympathetic expression. “Family things….you understand, I’m sure.”

Solana doesn’t know if Solo understands or he doesn’t, but she does know that Wes' kind and friendly tone is all smoke and mirrors. She knows he’s pissed that he didn’t catch her off-guard, didn’t catch her alone, that he couldn’t corner her like he always does.

And for a second, Solana believes she’s safe, knows that Solo won’t let Wes lay a hand on her. It’s….it’s his job to keep her safe, right?

But just as that hope is present, it’s extinguished by the reality she knows is inescapable. Solo won’t be with her 24/7. She won’t be protected forever. She’ll eventually be around both Wes and her father alone. And the price she’ll have to pay for denying him in this moment….

It’s not worth it. 

Roman’s words to her father about not touching her are nice in theory, but she knows better. Xavier Miller does what he wants, regardless of what’s said and by who.

“O–of course,” Solana mumbles, fingers dancing at the side of her pants. She turns to Solo. “Please….give us a few minutes.”

For the first time since she’s met him, Solo actually shows some type of emotion. It still stems from anger, maybe a branch of irritation, but it's still something different. “Tribal Chief said I’m supposed to watch you, so that’s what I do.”

She swallows. This is going to require a level of assertiveness that’s almost foreign if not non-existent. “I–I understand, but….Wes is my brother. He—” It’s almost impossible for her to even get the words out. “He would never hurt me.”

Solana almost immediately wants to vomit. That’s all this man has ever done. 

At least since the murder of their mother. 

Solo is struggling but wavering, she can see as much, so she continues. “It’s okay,” she assures, even mustering up a small smile. “Please….just a couple minutes. I won’t—I won’t say anything to Roman.”

Solo still looks torn but eventually agrees, leaving her alone with one of two men who hate her most on this earth. 

The door is barely closed when Wes has her pinned against the wall, hand slapped over her mouth, a knife pressed to the base of her throat.

“You stupid bitch, don’t think for one second that being married to Reigns changes shit,” he snarls. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you. He just doesn’t like people messing with his possessions.”

Solana knows all of this, knows that anything Roman may do that seems to be for her benefit is just him asserting his dominance. She doesn’t need to be reminded of this. 

“Wes, you’re hurting me.” She suddenly feels so stupid saying that, telling him what he already knows. Of course, he is. That’s the whole point. Still, she stupidly believes she can plead to whatever humanity is left in him. If any. “P–please.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, shoving her head against the wall. Solana winces quietly, mindful of Solo who stands outside the door because of her. Because she told him to, because she welcomed this violence onto herself.

“Reigns told dad you won’t be available for a couple weeks, so I suggest you start doing what you need to do to change that. We need to be able to communicate with you.”

This startles her. Why would Roman say that? Did Roman say that? Wes is a master manipulator, and she doesn’t put it past him to be playing mind games.

“I—I don’t know what you want me to do.” And it’s true. Solana has no idea what to do in any of this, how she’s supposed to kill a man who’s more or less impossible to kill, how she’s supposed to win his favor when it’s obvious she already annoys him. It’s all so confusing and overwhelming.

“Did you fuck him last night?”

It’s a question she hoped no one would ask, didn’t believe would be asked because there’s no one who would care enough except for Roman himself.

And while Solana knows being dishonest with her brother won’t turn out well, in this moment, she doesn’t know how he’ll respond if she tells the truth.

So, she lies. She lies to live to see another day, for what reason, she doesn't know. It’s not as if any other day will provide her some sense of solace or security. But, it’s just what she does. 

“Y–yes.”

Wes looks understandably pleased. “Good.” She gaps in fear when he drags his knife against her skin, gently trailing it across, just light enough to avoid drawing blood. “That’s all you’ve ever been good for us for anyway.”

A frown falls upon her face. What….what does that mean?

“Just keep contact open, you understand?” No, she doesn’t, but she has no choice but to pretend that she does. Nodding, Wes shoves her into the wall one more time at an angle that causes her shoulder to take the impact. Wincing, she holds onto it as he releases her and walks out the door. “Don’t fuck this up, Solana.”

Easier said than done. Much easier said than done. 

It’s when he leaves her alone that the tears pool in her eyes. But, it’s when Solo walks in, studying her that she sniffles and wipes at her eyes. “I–I’m fine.”

She’s not.

She’s far from fine. 

————

The day ends up slightly, maybe even moderately, improving. It’s to be slightly expected though as it’s Monday, the day that Solana runs her reading club with the younger kids. It’s always a highlight to see their bright, smiling faces, answering all of their fifty million questions.

It’s a break from a very bleak reality that is her life, immersing herself in their world of pretend and minimal worries.

Sometimes, she finds herself a bit jealous. Jealous that they still have their innocence, that their view of the world hasn’t been painted in red and blood like hers.

But, it’s when Solana is in the back taking her break, journaling, that that improvement takes a deep dive. Because a single knock on the door is followed by the large intimidating frame of her husband entering her space. 

Naturally, her stomach knots. She hasn’t seen Roman since last night, since he helped and scolded her in the same brief timespan. She understands it though and doesn't entirely disagree with what he said.

She’s far from the perfect picture of mental stability. 

Swallowing, Solana stands up and opens her mouth to address him when his eyes go from her face to her wrist. Following his line of vision, she sees why. There’s a blueish/greenish obvious bruise starting to form, beyond that initial point of formation really. It's just a straight up, fully developed bruise.

Roman slowly walks over to her and reaches for her arm. Solana naturally tenses. He hesitates for a second but still takes her wrist, lifting it so that it's at her eye level but still close enough for him to assess. 

She closes her eyes and acts quickly to think of an excuse. “I—umm—”

“Who?”

His voice is quieter than she anticipated and as much as she wishes she doesn't know what he means, Solana knows exactly what he’s asking. She just doesn’t answer. 

“I’m only going to ask you this one time and one time only.” His brown eyes are burning into her as he perfectly enunciates each word. “Who fucking touched you?”

Solana winces at his tone but eventually answers. “Wes....”

Roman drops her hand, and Solana brings her arms to her chest, head dropped. 

He’s pissed. 

That seems to be the only emotion he experiences around her, because of her.

His nostrils are flared as he demands. “Where was Solo?” 

Making him wait for a response is clearly something that sets him off even more, so Solana does her best to answer in a timely manner. “I—I asked him to leave. Wes….Wes didn’t want him in the room.”

“Of course, he fucking didn’t. Why would you—” Roman pinches his nose. A day. It’s been less than 48 hours, only a day in, and this marriage shit already has him fucking stressed out. Being married to this damn girl is like having a fucking child to look after. “From now on, I don’t give a fuck what your idiot brother and poor excuse of a father tell you, you’re not to be alone with them.” Roman’s command is a lot easier said than done. Denying her father or brother has never done her any favors. Solana isn’t sure how to verbalize this to the man in front of her who’s already six different shades of annoyed. “I thought I made that clear to them at the wedding, but obviously, they need a reminder.”

Solana feels every bit the scolded child, murmuring a quiet, “I’m sorry…”

Roman looks at her, and for a slither of a second, maybe even less than that, he feels bad for her. Feels bad because it’s clearly not her fault that she’s so fucked up. With a dad and brother like Xavier and Wes, what chance did she have?

He then briefly wonders about her mother, wonders what the dynamic was like there. But that’s a short lived trail because his mind then goes to his own mother. 

And Roman can’t have that, can’t go down that road for a variety of reasons, reasons that may not be that different from Solana’s. 

“Send me your work schedule.” Redirection is always a good strategy. That and fucking. Obviously, only one is an option for the woman in front of him. 

Panic builds in Solana’s stomach. Why does he want that? Her mind starts to race, arriving at only negative conclusions. Does he want her to quit? That thought kills her. 

Working at the library is the highlight, the only highlight, of her days. She doesn’t know what she would do without that outlet. 

“It won’t get in the way of my duties to you.” Solana typically isn’t the one to advocate for herself. Ever. But this….she can’t lose this, and it scares her to think of what mental decline could happen if she does. Nothing good. That’s for certain. “I—I can get up early and–and make your breakfast and meal prep lunch. A–and I’ll make sure your dinner is ready too by the time you come home—”

Rubbing his temple, exasperated, Roman asks, “what are you talking about?”

She’s not above begging. In a pleading tone, she begs, “please don’t make me quit my job.”

Roman isn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that the most words he’s heard leave Solana’s mouth are practically her begging to keep her job. He can understand it though. He would bet that her only time away from her family was when she was at work. “You can work as little or as much as you want. I don’t care about that.”

His words create instant relief. “Oh–I’m sorry, I thought—”

Roman runs his hand over his face. “You don’t have to apologize for everything.”

“Sor—” Solana drops her head as he exhales. Loudly. It’s not even noon, and he’s already over and done with this damn day.

“What time do you get off today?”

Solana licks her lips, answering. “Three.”

“I’ll meet you then.”

He can see she wants to ask but has decided against it, most likely recognizing his irritation. “We need to get your stuff from that house.” 

And in the midst of her anxiety in this conversation, she finds a glimmer of hope. She’s thankful that this isn’t something she had to initiate to ask him about.  

Something tells her Roman doesn’t like being questioned a lot.

Or at all.

“O–okay.” Is the answer she finally settles on, not wanting to say too much, vowing, “I’ll make sure I’m done by 3pm sharp.”

On one hand, Roman enjoys and respects punctuality, but something tells him Solana’s is based more on fear than anything. “Whenever is fine.”

Nodding and pushing her hair behind her ear, Solana watches Roman walk over to the door, preparing to leave when he asks, “is your brother right handed or left handed?”

His question takes her off guard, and she doesn’t quite know why he’s asking this in the first place. “W-what?”

Roman clearly doesn’t like repeating himself, because his tone takes on an edge. “Is he right handed or left handed?”

Solana swallows. She’s made him mad. Again. “R–right.”

Without another question, he leaves. And once the door shuts, he snaps at Solo, demanding, “why the fuck did you leave her alone with him? I told you to watch her!”

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that Solo is doing a brilliant job masking his embarrassment at his failure. “She said—”

“I don’t care what she says. You don’t answer to her. You answer to me. Understood?”

Solo keeps his head high, acknowledging, “yes, my Tribal Chief.” Roman wastes no time in exiting the library and entering the SUV waiting for him, slamming the door shut. He pulls out his phone, selecting one of his most recent contacts, hitting dial. 

Jey answers on the third ring, but he’s immediately yelling to someone else, “slam my door one more fucking time, Nicki, and see what happens!” Roman’s jaw clenches, another new source of irritation being presented to him. “Ayo, Uce, now’s not a good time—”

“I don’t care.” Roman’s hot headed cousin and his equally hot headed wife arguing is nothing special. The fight. They fuck. They make up. And do it all over again. It’s not pressing news or even news at all at this point. “The Miller boy. Send him a message. A clear message.”

“I’ve got—”

“Did you hear what I just said?” There must be something in the air or the water, because Roman having to repeat himself is fucking asinine. He speaks once, and everyone should jump immediately. The fact that that isn’t happening is only pissing him off more. “And his right hand…make sure it’s broken.”

Jey sighs on the other end of the phone. “Aight. Me and Jimmy will have it done by the end of the day.”

Roman ends the phone call before his cousin can feed him any more excuses. Head tilted back against the headrest, he tries to settle himself. This day so far has been nothing but inconvenience after inconvenience. 

There’s nothing that pisses him off more than having to repeat himself, having conversations extend longer than they should, and that’s all this day has been thus far. He’s had to over explain and reiterate himself more than Roman feels necessary. 

And the day isn’t even halfway over. 

He needs an outlet.

Roman switches apps, finding one of his more recent contacts and sending out a message. 

Roman: Come over tonight. 

As expected, her reply comes almost right away. 

Samantha: Lol. That didn’t take long.

Samantha: See you then.

————

Solana always struggles with a level of anxiety when entering the home she grew up in. For a myriad of reasons. Most, if not all, being completely valid. Nothing good has ever happened for her in that place. And more often than not, she’d barely be in the house for more than a couple of minutes before she was either being berated or beaten.

Usually both.

But this…..this is different. A lot different, because she’s not walking into hell alone, she’s walking along (behind) Bloodline guards and the 6’3, pure muscled leader of said Bloodline. 

Roman Reigns.

Who also happens to be her husband.

Playing around with the wedding ring on her finger, Solana tries again to remind herself that this is real, that she’s married, that she’s married to Roman Reigns of all people. 

The reality definitely hasn’t set in.

Roman is about to knock on the door again when it swings open. Solana naturally steps back, something Roman takes notice of.

Xavier looks pissed, his fiery gaze landing on her first, but just as quickly as it was present, it's gone, settling into an almost pleasant smile. Directed at Roman, of course.

“Tribal Chief,” he greets. Solana’s gaze is on the ground now, focused on her painted toes instead of the man before her who she’s certain would be unleashing hell on her if not for the multitude of much larger, much stronger men surrounding her. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“I don’t care,” Roman interrupts, voice reeking of indifference. “She needs to go get her stuff.”

“Oh.” Solana can only imagine the difficulty her father is having in not throwing a fit. “Well, we can arrange for it to be delivered—”

“No.”

She means more to think it than to say it, but that intention falls short, because she definitely says it aloud.

And most of her regrets it, but there’s a small slither that doesn’t.

Solana knows her father. She knows him very well. 

Roman has done nothing but piss him off from the very beginning of this whole ordeal, pushing and pushing him. And Solana has always been the object of her father’s anger, but Roman seems intent on making sure that doesn’t happen. 

That means he’ll have to get creative with his punishments.

If he can’t hurt her, he’ll go after the things she loves. 

The few items in that home that she holds near and dear, items that belonged to her mother.

She knows he would dispose of them all so that all that would be retrieved by the movers would be clothes.

And the thought of the only things she has of her mother being discarded like trash makes her sick to her stomach.

She can’t give him that opportunity. 

Looking up, she’s met with two sets of eyes on her. One indicating irritation and the other, curiosity. Swallowing, she stutters, “I’m sorry. I—”

“No.” Roman’s interruption is stark and to the point. “We’re already here. She gets it now.”

“But—”

“Move.”

Xavier’s jaw ticks, but he does as such, stepping to the side. Roman looks back at Solana, motioning for her to walk in. 

Instantly, she’s going to the key holder. She has to make sure she gets her mother’s stuff before anything. But, the key to the attic, the key that’s sat in the same spot since she was a girl, is suddenly missing.

Her stomach drops. 

Without hesitation, she turns to her dad, asking, “wh—where’s the key to the attic?”

Solana knows before he even says anything that she’s not going to like his answer. She just doesn't realize just how much she’s not going to like his answer.

“Oh, I put it in your old room on the dresser.” Solana’s chest is immediately tight, her stomach dropping. Xavier gives that sly smile and little shrug. “Figured there’d be some things you’d want to grab as well.”

It’s hard for Solana to not start crying right then and there, standing between her father and her husband. Two men who dislike her for very different reasons. 

And maybe dislike isn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling her father has toward her. Because one has to have an inhuman level of vitriol toward another individual to put her in the situation he just did.

That room….Solana hasn’t been in that room in years and planned to never enter it again for as long as she lived. And he knows that. Knows that there’s nothing in there she wants. Knows that she’d rather walk on burning coal barefoot than enter that space of horrific memories and unspeakable horrors. 

“I–I—”

“Is something wrong?”

Roman, watching this whole exchange closely, is instantly annoyed. It’s obvious something is wrong, there’s some story with this old room of hers, because she looks just as terrified as she did last night. And something about this pisses him off all over again, because this man is still trying to defy his orders, still trying to find ways to inflict his torture without lifting a finger. 

“Where’s the room?” 

Solana doesn't expect that question to leave Roman’s mouth, but it instantly brings on another layer of dread. He doesn’t know why she can’t go in that room, and he can never know, but that not knowing is probably going to result in him pushing her to hurry up so they can get the hell out of here.

But, that doesn’t happen. He steps towards her dad and repeats in a calm voice. “Show me.” It’s then she realizes that he’s asking so he can retrieve this key for her.

And that confuses the mess out of her because why? He doesn't have to, doesn’t need to. It doesn’t benefit him in the slightest. 

So why?

But for Roman, it’s simple. He’ll take any opportunity presented to piss off this son of a bitch, and undermining every attempt Miller takes to mess with Solana presents an opportunity for Roman to assert his dominance. 

And it’s obvious by the pure terror that crosses Solana’s face that, for whatever reason, she has zero desire or even ability to enter this room. It does cross him a bit strange that she would have such a reaction to her childhood bedroom, something that typically holds special memories for people.

Until he enters said room. 

Immediately, there’s a darkness about the aura, something heavy and unsettling that he can’t necessarily describe but most definitely feels. It’s a stark contrast to the design and decoration, lots of pink and girly shit, a couple of stuffed animals sitting on the top of the dresser. It’s on the dresser he notices a shattered picture frame that in picking up he sees a photo of a young woman, dark curly hair, beautiful, light eyes and a breathtaking smile. There’s something about her that reminds him of Solana. Her mother. This has to be her mother.

For reasons Roman doesn’t quite understand, there’s something suddenly uncomfortable by looking at this photo, a ghost, someone from the past. A person cruelly and violently ripped away from her family.

It….it hits too close to him.

Laying the broken photo frame down, Roman continues to assess the room and suddenly notices scratches on the door and the wall that holds the door. But, they’re not scratches that come from furniture being moved or kids being rough, they’re clearly nail marks. As if someone was dragged and the scratches a testament of their fight against whatever attack they were facing.

Snatching the key off the dresser, he then redirects his attention to the poorly cleaned splashes of dried blood on the carpet near the bed. He’s suddenly frowning of sorts. 

There’s a story here. A story that paints a dark, grim picture. One that makes Roman slightly curious about just what the hell this girl has really been through in this hellhole?

Not wanting to stay in that creepy ass room any longer than necessary, he walks back out into the living room and ignores Miller’s obvious irritation to reach Solana the key.

Accepting it, she offers the first smile he’s probably seen on her since their first meeting. “Thank you.” Her voice is the usual mixture of soft and quiet but also….grateful. She’s probably the only person in history to ever be so happy at being given something as simple as a key. But Roman isn’t stupid. He recognizes the deeper meaning. 

Nodding, he motions for a few of his men to follow her as she heads for wherever the attic door is located. 

That leaves Roman alone with his least favorite person in the world.

“She can’t take everything, you know.” Xavier shares. He reminds, “she has a brother. My son and I deserve to have something of my late wife to—”

“I don’t care.” And he doesn’t. He honestly, truly doesn’t. “She can take whatever she wants.”

“I understand that she’s your wife, but she was my daughter long before she became your wife. And you’re standing in my house.” Xavier doesn’t skip a beat to contend. “I think you should also remember that, Tribal Chief.”

To be fair, Roman would like to think he’s done a half decent job all day managing his temper. He’s yet to maim or kill anyone which is commendable for him, in and of itself. But something about Xavier pisses him the fuck off to the point where he doesn’t give a damn about controlling his temper. 

And that’s exactly what happens. 

In a matter of seconds, Roman has Xavier by the throat, pinned against the wall, squeezing so tightly he can practically feel the man's bones pressing against his fingertips. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Xavier’s eyes are nearly bugging out of his head as he helplessly grasps at Roman's grip, which only makes the Tribal Chief squeeze harder. “Don’t ever fucking forget who runs this. I run it all!” As much as Roman enjoys playing the long game with this bastard, there’s only so much he can put up with. Miller needs to know Roman is not his daughter, but he damn sure will dictate that any interactions with said daughter go through him. “You see Solana when I say you can see her. You talk to her when I say you can talk to her.” Intensifying his grip, Roman notices the color draining from Xavier’s face. And it’s probably the best thing he’s seen all day. “You live because I allow it. You’re still fucking breathing because I will it.” Recognizing Miller is at the door of unconsciousness, he finally lets the man go, enjoying the sight of him coughing violently, nearly laying on the floor. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that shit.”

Xavier, wisely, doesn't say much after that. And neither does Roman, who simply makes sure his men help Solana gather all she needs, which isn’t that much outside of clothes. He starts to ask her about her car, but something tells him it’s under Xavier’s name, which is why he decides against it.

He’ll just get her another one. 

Roman doesn’t want her to have shit to do with this family, largely because he doesn’t want shit to do with this family.

And he knows what the first step toward initiating that separation will be.

—--------

The Warehouse has always been Roman’s escape.

17,000 square feet of escape, completely revamped and redone by him in his early twenties. It’s a massive compound that serves as both a place to train and compete. The former of which being why he’s present and needing to speak to the one person who he has in charge of all the day to day workings of the Warehouse. 

But, that’s all she’s interested in outside of competing herself and only training those with some fire to them.

It’s why he’s not surprised when Nia takes one look at him, then Solana, and with a snort and roll of her eyes, simply says, “no.”

Roman isn’t an idiot. He knew his cousin would immediately decline, would know what he wanted to ask before it could even leave his mouth.

If only he cared about her objection. 

“Wait here,” he mutters to Solana who only nods, hugging the jacket around her body. Solo remains nearly inches away from her. She looks so out of place, a small part of him can’t blame Nia for declining.

Nia continues to walk the balcony, eyes clearly checking in on the various sets of people training. Roman does as well, just not nearly with the same amount of focus and attention. That’s what he has Nia for.

His blood cousin and close friend since they were kids, there’s few people in this world that Roman trusts, and Nia is grouped in that category. She’s a worthy member of the bloodline and a hell of a person to have alongside you in a fight. 

It’s why she's the perfect person for this task.

“Nia.”

“I said no, Roman.” She turns to him, smirking, taunting him in a way only she and his close family can. "You know, that word that you hate?”

It actually makes him chuckle, a speckle of amusement in a day full of anything but. “If you know I hate it, why are you saying it?”

“Because unlike the rest of the world, I’m not your bitch.”

It’s partially true. Nia has never been one to shy away from being completely and, often, ruthlessly honest with her cousin. It’s something Roman sometimes appreciates, enjoying the occasional challenge and differing perspective.

This isn’t one of those times though. 

He again reiterates. “She needs to be trained.” 

It’s abundantly clear that Solana has no backbone, and he can’t entirely fault her for that because it’s also clear that she’s never really had the chance to develop one. But, that’s no longer the case, because while he can deal with the stammering and quietness, her fragility has to go. 

She has to learn to stand up for herself.

She needs to learn how to fight back.

Nia turns around with a sarcastic chuckle. “You really think that girl can be trained? I saw her at the wedding. She looked terrified the entire time. You breathe too hard in her direction, and she’ll probably have a fucking panic attack.” Roman is briefly taken back to last night. Nia hasn’t the slightest clue how true her words are. “She’s not built for this life.”

Roman doesn’t entirely disagree. If there was ever a person who’d do well and significantly better in something cookie cutter, white picket fence type shit, it’s Solana. But she’s here now, this is her life, so they need to make the best of it. She needs to learn how to survive in this life. and he expresses as such. “Regardless, she needs to learn to defend herself to some extent.”

Nia shrugs, leaning back against the railing and crossing her arms. “So teach her.”

“I don’t have the time. Or the patience.” It’s almost entirely true. There are already so many hats that Roman has to wear. Adding on another one that includes teaching a traumatized young woman how to fight is not an option. Even more, something tells him that Solana would do better training with a woman. She seems most skittish around men.

Nia scoffs, pointing to herself. “And you think I do?”

“Nia….” As much as he enjoys sparring with his cousin from time to time, his patience has grown thin. His tone darkens. “I’m not asking you.”

While tempted to continue to push back, Nia isn’t a stupid woman. She can recognize when Roman is about to lose his cool. “Fucking hell….” With a heavy sigh and shrug of defeat, she accepts. “Fine. I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to like her.”

“I never expect you to like anyone.” He chuckles, adding. “And Nia…..take it easy on her at first.”

Nia curses, instantly accusing, “You think coddling her will help?”

“I know being too rough with her won’t.”

A hard exterior is built from experience and tolerance. Roman fully believes that. However, something tells him his new wife has had enough experiences that anything more could push her closer to breaking point. So approaching it almost gingerly would probably wield the best outcome. 

Nia is, justifiably, vexed. “Whatever. I don’t have time for your weak ass wife. I’ll have Naomi teach her the basics, and once she learns how to actually throw a punch without crying, I’ll take over her training.” 

Roman has no issue with this. Solana seemed to be fine around Naomi at the wedding, so it might actually be a good match. “Fine. Just keep me updated with her progress.” Roman adds, starting to walk away.

“Do I have a choice?”

Instantly, he answers. “Nope.”

Nia’s laughter behind him brings a small smile to his face. 

Rejoining the group, he finds Solana looking just as nervous as he left her. “Let’s go.”

He turns and so does Solo, Roman deciding he’ll talk with Solana about starting training back at the house. But, her small voice calling his name, the first time he’s heard her say as such draws his attention.

Turning around, he asks, “yeah?”

She swallows and starts that damn stammering. It’s hard for him to not snap at her to just get it out. He hates that beating around the bush bullshit. “Umm, can we—uhh, stop somewhere?” Roman does his best to hide his irritation. Where the fuck does she need to go? “I just—-I noticed you don’t have a lot of ingredients at the house, and—and I need some things so I can cook.”

Initially, Roman’s first reaction is to tell her no, that she doesn’t need to cook. He doesn’t need her to cook for him. He does just fine on his own, but that’s the thing that makes him pause. He’s not on his own anymore. She needs to eat too.

So, he agrees, “fine.”

“Ayo, uce!”

Jesus Christ.

Roman needs a vacation. A week long vacation, because the way the past 24hrs has drained him more than anything he’s experienced in the past year is criminal.

The twins jog over, exchanging what is an undeniably awkward acknowledgement to Solana. And he doesn't blame them. She’s so damn docile that they probably don't know how to interact with her.

“Let us catch that ride with you.”

Roman shuts his eyes. “Why?”

Jimmy is the one to answer. “You wanted us to debrief you on that thing from earlier, remember?”

Roman realizes they’re referring to the message he had them send Solana’s brother, which he does want to hear about but not necessarily now.

“She needs to stop at the store before we head back to the house,” Roman informs, hoping the twins will just take a car back to the house to meet him their to debrief.

But that’s too much like right, because they end up in the same SUV as him and Solana, seated in the back, while he sits in the middle with her. And it’s not missed upon him how she’s practically tucked in the corner of the SUV, notebook out as she writes away while his idiotic cousins go on and on in the back about whatever.

The old lady from the library wasn’t kidding. This damn girl is always writing. 

When they arrive at the grocery store, Roman reaches for his wallet, sliding out his black card and handing it to her. “Here. Use this.” 

Roman hadn’t thought about this until just now, thought about the need to make his money available to her. He makes a mental note to have his accountant add Solana to all of his accounts and have cards mailed out with her name. In the meantime, she’ll have to deal with using his.

“Thank you.” She accepts the card, quickly asking, “what’s my limit?”

“What limit?”

Her cheeks redden as she explains. “Like….like how much I can spend?"

“There is none,” he answers with a shrug. “Just get what you need.”

Jey suddenly leans forward, tapping Roman on the shoulder. “Ayo, Big Dog, lemme run this by you.”

“No.”

Of course, the word goes in one ear and out the other. “So, I’m trying to explain to her that it’s not what she thinks. I don’t even care about that bitch, but she’s not trying to hear me. Going on and go about how I ain’t shit, I don’t treat her right—you know, the usual—-and so finally, I just snap on her ass cause who the fuck you think you talking to—”

Jimmy agrees. “She acting like you ain’t got no options.”

Jey sucks his teeth, “man, that’s what I’m saying. Like, I ain’t gotta put up with that shit!”

“Hell naw!”

The idea of grocery shopping doesn’t appeal to Roman in the slightest, but neither does listening to his dumbass cousin complain about his marriage problems to his equally dumbass brother. So, it’s the lesser of two evils, really. 

“Fuck it,” he mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt, and opening the door. Solo and Solana’s eyes fall on him as they’d yet to enter the store. “I’ll go with her.”

Solana looks expectedly surprised as Solo simply nods and gets back in the passenger seat.

“I’ll make it quick.”

Roman says nothing, walking alongside her, still providing enough distance to not make her uncomfortable. 

As long as the twins are harping on and on about stupid shit, she can take as long as she wants.

Once in the store, Solana pushing the cart, Roman realizes she was writing down a grocery list that she uses to track the needed items as they peruse what feels like endless aisles. Granted, he hasn’t been inside an actual grocery store in probably close to two decades, if not longer, so maybe this is normal for a grocery store. 

It’s when they reach the produce section that she seems a bit stumped, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly perplexed.

He starts to ask her what’s wrong, but she walks over to one of the workers and takes him slightly by surprise when she starts speaking in a different language. Spanish, he eventually settles on. It’s also the first time he thinks he’s ever seen her smile. Outside of when he gave her the key And laugh. That one is definitely a first. Both small and quiet, but still, a first. She seems to know or at least be familiar with the worker who digs around the produce and reaches over a packaged bag of whatever produce it is. 

It’s when she returns to place the produce in the basket, continuing to walk, that he asks, “you speak Spanish?”

She looks up at him, but not for too long, as if doing so is forbidden, explaining. “My—my mom taught me. She was originally from Mexico.”

Roman figured as such from the picture he saw in her room that Solana’s mom was Hispanic or had some type of Central American ancestry. He’s also surprised by her answering with more than just 3 to 5 words, providing more information than he asked. 

It’s not something he necessarily cares about, but it doesn’t annoy him like it typically does when people give him a longer answer than what’s necessary. 

“Are—are your cousins always like….like that?” Again, she takes him by surprise, up until the point where she immediately goes into apologizing. “I–I don’t mean it in a bad way. I would never—”

“Yes,” he cuts off her rambling. It’s unnecessary because the answer is simple. “They are.” With a mutter, he adds, “they never shut the fuck up.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. That smile smile, this time conjoined with a small laugh that she does a decent job trying to suppress. And it’s like she catches herself, changing the subject as she asks, “umm, are you—like—allergic to anything? Or is there something you don’t like? I can learn—”

“I can eat anything.” It’s a simple, truthful answer. It also seems like something she’d been wanting to ask but only built the courage to do so at the end of their current conversation, even if brief as hell.

Solana doesn’t say much after that, and it confuses Roman when she tries to grab items on shelves much higher than what exceeds her reach. It confuses him because it would be significantly easier for her to just ask him to reach it. Granted, something tells him just her asking to be taken to the grocery store seems to be her daily quota for requests.

So he takes it upon himself, hand on the small of her back, ignoring how she tenses at his touch, to tell her to step aside as he easily retrieves the item. With a tuck of her hair behind her ear and a small “thank you,” she continue shopping but this time actually, still with that same irksome gentleness, asks him to reach items that she cannot. It’s not a lot, just a couple.

And it’s not long before she’s done, checking out with his card that she makes sure to give back to him immediately. He gets the sense that that’s something she thinks is important to him.

It’s not.

The worst he can see her doing is going crazy at fucking Barnes and Nobles.

Roman has his men load the trunk for her, something that also seems to take her off guard. Like she’s not used to the assistance.

And she probably isn’t. 

————

Samantha Irvin has been on Roman’s revolving roster of women since he was in his teens. The longevity being that It’s always been the easiest with her. Sexually, at least. Their compatibility in that one area, the only one he really (only) cares about, is astronomical. But lately, more in the past few months than anything, she’s dropped a comment here and there about wanting more. 

He’s ignored them everytime. 

Roman has never promised Samantha anything more than what they currently are: fuck buddies. She knows this, just like she knows she’s not the only woman he’s fucking. Nothing about that should indicate him wanting more with anyone, including her.

Well, other than the wedding band now on his finger.

Samantha’s gaze falls on that wedding band, a bitter chuckle leaving her mouth. “I still can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. Discussing his shitshow of a marriage is the last thing he wants to do and far from the reason he left Solana in the middle of the night to come see her, to come work off his frustrations.

The same reason he invited her over tonight. 

Last night was a dumpster fuck, without a doubt. But today with Solana was….decent. Not amazing. Not awful. Just some strange space in between. Even as they arrived back at the estate and she went straight into cooking, creating something he can’t pronounce but can honestly say was delicious, a meal she delivered to him in his office. There was something manageable about that, this level of she does her thing, he does his, and if their paths cross in the process, he can deal with that.

The intimacy though….that’s something he’ll have to figure out, have to navigate, just not now. Not tonight. 

Right now, he just needs Samantha’s talented mouth on him.

She moves her hands up his chest, biting on her bottom lip. “She’s just a little girl, baby. You need a woman who knows how to please you.” Roman knows the other side of what she’s saying or rather what she’s not saying. Another subtle, or not so subtle depending on how you look at it, hint that she’s the one he should settle down with.

In all honesty, he has, or had, zero desire to settle down with anyone.

Especially not with Sam. She’s the kind of woman that’s good for fucking and nothing else. As much as Solana’s extreme passivity annoys the shit out of him, he’d pick that over the bitching Sam would do. He just knows she’d be on his ass about stupid shit like fucking other woman and not paying her enough attention. Like she’d think she’s somehow above him doing who and what the fuck he wants just cause he put a ring on her finger.

Way too needy.

But at least he can actually fucking touch Sam.

Kinda hard to make a baby with someone who has literal fucking panic attacks just from being touched.

It builds up his frustration again, hence Roman grabbing Samantha by the back of her head, forcing it back. She hisses, both from pain and pleasure. It’s another thing he does actually enjoy about her. She lets him be as rough as he wants and needs.

“Why are you still talking?” There may be a slight dim in her eyes at his question, but she hides it well. “I don’t give a fuck what you think.” He releases his grip and shoves her to her knees. “Put that mouth to actual good use.”

If she’s hurt by his brusque tone, she doesn’t show it, simply bringing her hands to unbuckle his pants. “I got you, daddy…” 

She gets his zipper down when a scream sounds throughout the house, causing her to freeze in her motions as she shoots Roman a confused look.

“What the hell?” Samantha’s obvious irritation is the last thing he hears before adjusting himself as he heads out the room and down the hall.

For some reason, Roman already knows what to expect before he even reaches Solana’s room. Opting against knocking, he opens the door and finds her twisting and turning in the bed, eyes shut, chest moving up and down, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Yeah….just as he expected. 

Sighing, he walks over to the bed, sitting on the side. “Solana.”

“No.....” she’s crying in her sleep, clearly in the midst of a nightmare. Or night terror. “Mom, please…don’t leave me.”

Roman tenses. Immediately, he knows exactly what her nightmare is. He brings hands to her shoulder, shaking her. “Solana, wake up.”

“No…..”

He says her name again, a bit louder, firmer, “Solana, wake up.”

“No!” She screams again, shooting up from the bed, immediately fighting and pushing against his body. “Leave me alone!” She’s crying, clearly fighting against the demons one faces once in life but forever battles, even when they’re gone. 

It’s a permanent scar on the soul.

“Solana,” he says again, still stern, but somehow gentle. “You’re fine. You’re safe.” It’s the ‘safe’ word that seems to trigger something for her, mouth still ajar, painting heavily but no longer struggling against him. “It was just a bad dream.”

There’s a fleeting thought he has about pushing some of the flyaway hairs out of her face, but it’s gone before he can really process let alone act on said thought.

Solana looks at his hands on her forearm and immediately tugs them back to her body, hugging herself. She drops her head, eyes closing, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

His eyes take her in, studying her, “it’s fine.”

“I—I need some air.” She kicks the blankets off her body and swings her legs over the bed, hurriedly grabbing a notebook off the dresser and rushing out of the room past a smirking Samantha.

Roman shuts his eyes and runs his hand over his face, ignoring the strange array of emotions, or something like that, he’s experiencing.

He hasn’t been this exposed to this kind of behavior in years.

This may be more complicated than he realized. 

And it’s as he stands up from the bed, walking near the door that Samantha smirks. “Did she seriously say mom?”  His eyes snap to her as she runs her hands up and down his chest. “What a fucking child.”

Her words take him back, reframe things so that it’s not Solana the child crying for her mother not to be taken from her. It’s a young boy. Burned, bloody, and beat, fading in and out consciousness, the gaze of fiery flames in his peripheral vision, the smell of burning flesh invading his nostrils, the sound of wails and sirens all mingling together from the shock of it all. 

Roman catches himself, forcing those buried memories back where they belong in the very back of his mind. He then looks at Sam for a good five seconds before demanding, “get the fuck out.”

She pauses and then asks with an uncomfortable laugh, “what?”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he repeats, shoving her hands off him. 

“What did I sa—”

“Get out!” Roman snaps, volume and tone making her jump. He probably scared her. He also doesn’t care. He just wants her gone. And she does as such, walking away without another word of protest. 

Left alone, he tries to gather himself, moving back to his room.

So much for a fucking distraction.

 —----- 

Roman finds her out back on the patio. 

He needed to clear his head, get back into his tunnel vision focus, and the gym he had included when he built the house is the perfect place to do that. Two hours later, recentered and showered, he readies to call it a night. But, he realizes he probably shouldn’t do as such until he makes sure Solana is at least partially stable enough to be left alone. 

And she is. 

She’s laid out, sleeping on the rattan lounge chair, a closed notebook tucked into her side. Roman recognizes it as the same one she was writing in that day at the library as well as the one she used for her grocery list just earlier in the day. 

He settles down on the chair next to her, studying her. Even in her sleep, she looks….sad. And for the first time in the midst of all these strange experiences with her, Roman understands. He understands her sadness, understands her difficulty, understands the memories that clearly haunt her.

The same way they used to haunt him. 

His hand goes to his tatted arm, intricate tribal tattoo hiding permanent remnants of that night of hell. The night that he once had the same kind of night terrors about. 

Noticing the breeze, he walks back into the house, grabbing one of the throw blankets on the sofa. Roman is careful to not directly touch her as he lays it over her body. A part of him is tempted to carry her back to her room, but he remembers these kinds of nights. The kind where it’s a challenge to escape the memories, let alone find a place and mental space to turn your brain off enough to just sleep.

So he leaves her alone, allowing her to enjoy the only escape she clearly has in this life.

[konpeitonom]

jimmy nsfw alphabet PLEASEE and maybe curly too

jimmy nsfw alphabet.

nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader — cw for jimmy overall.. manipulation/dubcon. this might be a little heavy to some so if you’re extremely sensitive to anything i’d just skip this one. he is misogynistic to hell. hints of bi jimmy :^

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; using every guy i’ve ever known as inspo for writing this. don’t like? don’t read. block button is right there. i never write jimmy in a positive light and never will! curlys is already posted!

nsfw under the cut! minors do not read

a — aftercare, (what they’re like after sex)

— i mean. if you ask for water or food he’ll give it to you (begrudgingly..), but it’s not something he’ll actively do. you know? he knows he can be rough at times but it’s not really a priority to him. besides, he kinda likes the sight of you all used up.

b — body part (their favorite body part, and their partners)

— for himself, his arms/shoulders. since he lifts i think he is quite lean..

— for you? probably your chest! he likes to grab at your boobs and squeeze at them, laughing at how you yelp or whatever.

c — cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

— i think his favorite would be on your face, like it gets in your hair and it’s all gross and stuff. that or would force it down your throat. wouldn’t let you go until you’ve swallowed it full. he’s scummy!

— i’ve mentioned it once before but he’s not the kind to just. not pleasure you. he has to make sex worthwhile for you to wanna do it- without much work on trying to convince you on his end. he’ll make sure you cum eventually.

d — dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

— man where would i even start..

— i’ll keep it a bit light for now, maybe. he’s jerked off to you, on you, as you sleep. it’s into stuff like that. you just look so sexy laid there. sometimes he cleans it and sometimes he doesn’t.

— he always tells you the next day, however.

e — experience (how experienced are they?)

— he’s like the opposite of curly. very little committed relationships, many, many one night stands. he thinks if girls are willing to give their bodies up like that after one night, there’s no reason to be in any sort of committed relationship.

f — favorite position (self explanatory)

— you bent over some sort of table, or wall sex. whatever constrains you where he doesn’t have to do much work to do so. he also loves to pull on your hair so positions where he’s able to do that he’s into.

g — goofy (are they more serious in the moment?)

— he doesn’t think about it. like mood and tension? as long as he gets off. might make a few jokes here or there but doesn’t think much of it.

h — hair (how well groomed are they?)

— he trims if it gets too much, but it’s not really anything he cares about. doesn’t care if you’re bothered by it.

i — intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic wise?)

— he’s not the most romantic. maybe on special occasions like your first time together, or your birthday, anniversary.. he’ll say ‘i love you’, just maybe. but in the long run he really only does it so you’ll stay.

j — jack off (masturbation headcanon)

— he jerks off whenever possible. maybe a bit of an exaggeration. the type to just jerk off while scrolling on his phone, ‘just cause’- he doesn’t think much of it and doesn’t really have one to one sessions. if he’s alone and bored he’s jerking off.

k — kink (one of their kinks)

— as a community of jimmy fuckers (i am not apart of said community, but i see you) i appreciate how we all agree he is into ddlg. he’s gross. and honestly for kinks, i’d be better to write off things he isn’t into. he’d watch women get tortured to get off, there really isn’t much he wouldn’t do.

— i won’t elaborate much on the ddlg thing because it’s personally not something i’d want to write about. but he’s into it, 100%.

— things like slapping, air restriction, tying his partner up, free use, water sports, somnophilia, corruption.. fuck- anything. really anything. just ask and he’s probably willing to do it.

l — location (favorite places to do it)

— likes bathroom stalls in gas stations because he thinks they are especially degrading and gross. even more so when you’re on your knees and pleasuring him. semi-public settings just turn him on.

m — motivation (what turns them on)

— this man gets horny to the smallest things..

— tease him even a little- show him skin on purpose and he’s fucking you straight. doesn’t take much for him to get hard.

n — no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

— blank

— okay but anything that feels as if he’s not in full control. he likes tying you up, but he would not want to be. no way.

o — oral (preference in giving, receiving)

— he prefers receiving. eating pussy is not something he really likes to do. what pleasure could he derive from that, even? if you asked then maybe, if it’s something you really wanted.

p — pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

— fast and rough. maybe slow and rough if he’s tired. he thinks rougher is better, and maybe to him but maybenot for you..

q — quickie (their opinion on quickies, how often)

— he’s into them. his goal with sex is to just get off, doesn’t care if it’s quick or ‘intimate’ as people would say. if you like them then that’s great! he’d rather do quickies than bother with actual, actual sex.

r — risk (are they willing to experiment? do they take risks?)

— he’s willing to risk a lot.. nothing that would ruin his public image, but like.. fucking in a park late at night, where someone might catch you. yeah, he’d do that. he thinks it’s hotter if you’re all exposed, and he’s masked and shit.

s — stamina (self explanatory)

— uh. like 2 rounds? anything more than that would just tire him out i think.

t — toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on themselves or their partner?)

— owns a fair share of toys, i won’t lie.. yes he owns a dildo and yes it’s for himself. he has toys for his partner as well he likes to use them often, multiple forms of stimulation- and seeing your reaction to that is extremely sexy..

u — unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

— a lot, he teases a lot.. he likes orgasm delay and stuff like that- sometimes he wouldn’t let you cum at all. he’d say such mean things in bed to, to mock you and such. shaming you for letting him do this to you. all round horrible guy.

v — volume (how loud are they? what sounds do they make?)

— he likes your noises over his. is that a surprise? thinks it’s one of the prettiest things about you. so he likes to keep it down. he’d say some stupid shit like.. making noises is a ‘girl thing’.

w — wild card (a random headcanon)

— occasionally he likes to overstimulate you, making you cum over and over. makes him feel as if he could control you if he could please you like that. no other man could, right?

x — x-ray (what’s going on underneath?)

— his penis is extremely mediocre and regular. he’s seen curlys and is extremely jealous of him. it’s funny sorry. not every guy can have a good dick, and jimmy is apart of that percentage.

y — yearning (how high is their sex drive?

— pretty high. if you’re open to fucking 1-2 times a day he is open and willing. but if that’s too much, maybe once every other day.

z — zzz.. (how quickly they fall asleep)

— falls asleep quick, but only needs like- a 10 minute nap or so. not the type to sleep, sleep- even if it’s late at night.

[plutonianeris]

a message from 13 year old you ‧₊˚✩彡 [letter] 💓🍬

this is a general reading. take what resonates and leave what doesn't. scroll through the images & choose based on your inner guidance and gut feeling. ⛓️ *･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ if you feel guided to: tip jar💘 ✧.*

Pile one ‧₊˚✩彡

"what did I tell you? I always knew it would work out in the end. I was always knew the pain wasn't going to last forever. It hurt to be treated that way by the people closest to me, especially the women in my life. there was always so much confusion growing up. people would say pretty things but there body language would show something else. I felt caged in my connections. But I always had some faith. I always had a feeling that the universe was watching out for me... for us. that it was sending us signs. that eventually I would be able to enjoy life to the fullest without feeling guilty for it. without feeling like I had to compare myself to the versions of me that they wanted me to be. I hope you know now that those versions don't exist. that we weren't born to be dolls for other people to dress up and control and shove words and opinions in their mouth and to gargle and spit back up. I doubted my intellgience so much.. underestimated my creativity. but looking at you now.. looking at us... I feel so proud. dont forget about me please! I always believed in you. even on those days where you couldnt stand to look in the mirror. I was on your side this whole time, its just that sometimes you werent listening. But now looking at you, you are everything I ever wanted to be. Im so glad I didnt give up. You deserve it all. the world. your dreams. im rooting for you. heres to more blessings and abundance."

Pile two ‧₊˚✩彡

"remember the way everyone would make fun of us for the weird things we did? Our odd expressions and the questions we asked and how we laughed out loud and our desire to see the world. how it always labeled as silly. I know it had made us dull our self expression for a little while. How we forced ourselves to shrink down, to fake laugh to the mean comments, or "oh this? not a big deal" or "its not that good.." so many of those... just to blend in better with our friends and family at the time. to make them like us. to see if that would make them stop criticizing so damn much. I hope we no longer are letting comments like that slide. I hope we dress like the way we always wanted to in our head but were to afraid to wear out. I hope we didn't let the world extinguish our playful nature. life felt like heartbreak after another. what do you know about love? youre just a kid. they deformed the way we saw it for a long time. but not anymore. It makes me emotional.. the way you never let go my hand. and how you always carried me along with you in your heart. Of course, now you call me your inner child. Or I guess inner teen. Ha, inner tween. Thank you for always being my friend. I see now that you are always what I was meant to be. Out of all the stars in the sky, we shine the brightest, you and me."

Pile three ‧₊˚✩彡

"you are so beautiful... wow we really are so different now. But I still see hints of me in you. in your smirk and your mischievous laugh and in your questioning glances and sharp stare when someone gets a little bit too close to our personal space. I admire the way your presence can make someone nervously glance away. I use to feel so powerless.. so many things I did to try to gain some control, even if it meant hurting myself and pushing away the people I love. I love how vulnerable you are. I really did see it as a weakness but looking at you now, it makes me realize how brave you are. of putting yourself out there despite the uncertainty. of taking that chance even if could end up badly. even if you could end up with a broken heart it seems like you no longer find sastification in staying in the darkness. I understand, its.. well, lonely... being alone. Do you think you could take me with you? That part of you... that is still afraid. do you think you could tell me? tell me that I am not broken or incomplete that there is nothing wrong with me. that I am not the worst thing that has ever happened to me or will happen to me. Reassure me? Tell me that some things we have to do even when we are afraid. that its terrifying and nerve wracking and makes our palms sweat. but then once we do it, it's glorious, it's liberating, it's everything we have ever dreamed of and more. I see it now. Take me with you. Do you see me? I see you. The way you look at the world and want to devour it. I see you now, with a crown atop your head. how you wear it so gracefully..."

Pile four ‧₊˚✩彡

"So many times.... I was so close to giving up. to listening to that little voice in my head that kept telling me over and over again that there was no point. that the feeling and the ache in my chest would last forever. that it was always going to be me versus the world. me versus me. that everything around me would always be dull and gray and that I would always be blue. I doubted my self-worth so much. It was practically non-existent. I still do in some ways now when I pop up and invalidate the way you feel, shrugging my shoulders wondering if maybe we are actually deserving of this happiness... of this success. it feels foreign. like its not really mine.. well, ours. We're not in a really good situation right now and my parents are trying to hide things from me that im just too big now to pretend not to notice. they don't make me feel that protected anymore. and that hurts me a lot. whose gonna take care of me now? Im so glad youre here now. Im so glad we got to grow up and that we survived. and im so glad that now that we survive we can actually live. Thank you for reminding that we can let go now. that theres no room for a pity party anymore. thank you for letting me know that your'e not going to leave me behind. thank you for keeping my memory alive. thank you for looking back at me with kind and loving eyes. but most of all, thank you for fighting for me. I know I can easily lie and say "everything is fine" but thank you for showing me that it eventually it is. thank you proving to me that eventually I will say its fine. its okay. its great even. and that I, that we, actually mean it."

© plutonianeris

[forthevillains]

Getting sleepy

Albert Wesker X reader (gender neutral)

[Captain Wesker likes you and you accidentally lean against him in your sleep ;) this one’s safe for everyone to read]

It’s been a rough day for you, at a dangerous mission with the S.T.A.R.S. It was already around midnight when all of you were heading back. It’s been tiring to say the least, but all of you made it safely. Wesker was driving while you sat on the passenger’s seat beside him, Barry and Jill in the back. They kept a conversation while you and the captain stayed in silence. You’ve done a great job, that’s for sure, it’s been always pleasure to work with you even though you’re just a rookie for now. You fit in well, with skills almost like no other.

Wesker had his sunglasses on as usual, you’ve barely been able to catch a bit of his blue eyes from side, but were quick to look away before he could notice that you were watching him. You were pleased to be able to work under him. No words could describe how happy you were when he chose you to go into the field with them. It was no surprise to others as they were aware of your talents, they were all happy to have you. Not as happy as the captain himself though. The small hints he’s given you may not be enough to show you how much he appreciates you himself, you didn’t know him all that well, but it was enough to make you feel sure of yourself when speaking to him. You were not intimidated in the slightest, no the fact that the male was capable of smiling at you was enough to prove to you that he might not be as bad as everyone made him seem when you got recruited. Perhaps they just wanted to scare you off… Or perhaps the captain himself thought of you as his favorite and no one expected that could ever happen.

You felt your eyes threatening to close shut as you watched the night sky from the window, everything dark except for it alone, the stars, the moon… You were mesmerized, caught up in your own thoughts and the fact that you’ve survived your first mission without any serious injury made you feel proud of yourself.

At that moment, you had no idea that Wesker’s gaze was fixated on you, only occasionally looking ahead of himself to make sure he doesn’t crash. The roads were pretty empty this late so there was no need to be as careful. He watched you, thinking if it would be a good idea to say something to you, to strike up a conversation, but in the end he remained silent. He was good at talking, there’s no doubt in that, but when it came to you, he barely knew what to say at all. You were indeed a weird case to him, he knew so little about you yet he was tempted to get to know more. There was no way to get you to talk to him though, he was your superior, you were in S.T.A.R.S. only for two months and everyone knew he wasn’t much of a talkative person at work. They probably told you so many things about him that you’d see through his mere attempts to get closer to you. No he knew they did, he even heard them a few times.

You shifted in your seat, searching for a more comfortable position to fall asleep in. You were so tired it was impossible to stay awake. There was barely any possibility of finding one where your back or head wouldn’t hurt after so you’ve just settled for closing your eyes while sitting straight, hoping not to fall against the window and hit your head. It barely took a few minutes before you dozed off. That was another opportunity for Wesker to take a better look at you, your gentle features, looking so innocent, so peaceful. He was suppressing a smile for god knows what reason. You looked cute like that. He gripped the wheel tighter when he realized of how he was thinking. Like a silly teenager with a crush. He was nothing like that. Or at least he thought so. He’s been with plenty of women, but never has he felt such an admiration towards one. A sigh escaped him and he forced himself to look away from you, not wanting to feel like this. He didn’t want to have a thing for a fucking rookie… He had plans, things to do, he couldn’t let a liability like this get in his way, it would end up terribly. You were no more than a forbidden fruit he had to resist. Even when a thought of keeping you around crossed his mind, he had to slightly shake his head to get rid off it.

However the way you were relaxed indicated that you wouldn’t hold still for long, it only took a short while for you to lean against him, your head placed gently on his shoulder. He tensed at that, looking over at you now basically sleeping on him. He thought of pushing you away, but seeing a hint of smile tugging at your lips made him give up before he even attempted doing so. Wesker was so still, afraid that any movement of his could wake you up, that if it wasn’t for Jill and Barry sitting right behind the two of you, he would’ve cursed under his breath. He hated this. He hated that he liked it. He hated everything about it and especially the fact that it made him smile. Deep inside he indeed didn’t want this to end and he would for sure take you on missions way more…

[loverslodge]

foolish ones

summery: can your love love you back?

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warning: self-harm, blood loss, fist fight major angst, fluff, smut, happy ending

A/N: if you like sharon, sorry for the slander. also, this is my first smut with baby boy so please indulge. i have hots for him but i was suffering through my own mental health when i wrote this. also i was so close to changing ending but refrained because i love my baby boy a lot.

It broke her heart. She thinks everyone around her heard it break. All but one. Sharon had her arms around Captain America and they were kissing with what looked like passion. She knew she wasn't good enough for him but seeing him with her hurt her more than she had thought.

She didn't tell anyone about her love for her teammate. What was there to tell when everyone could see her cheeks turn pink every time he talked to her and her eyes twinkle every time he walked in the room. She always tried to keep her distance though. She did not want to seem clingy to Steve. Even when she would not be in a good mood, she would see Steve and her eyes would twinkle with momentary happiness. She never really showed her vulnerability to him. She didn't want him to think she was powerless. She knew of his history. She knew he had always loved Peggy, mostly because she was a powerful woman. She would often feel a pang in her heart when she saw him with Natasha because she saw a potential there. But she had convinced herself that no matter what, she would be happy for him.

She never had a successful track record of relationships. She dated because the men liked her and not the other way around. She never dated anyone she liked because she would always be rejected by them. They would stop talking to her or ignore her or cut her off without telling her why. She expected the same from Rogers so she never confessed. She had many opportunities. She dropped hints though. Which was picked up by everyone on the team but Steve. You saw girls flirt with him, you saw him come back in the mornings after his dates. But you were always happy to see him, always there for him, always the woman behind the big curtain of Steve’s life.

Wanda and Natasha always helped distract you. So did Sam, Tony, Bruce, Clint and Bucky. Especially Bucky. Even Thor and Loki but Bucky was always there to catch your heartbreaking expressions. He always cheered you up when he would see shed or unshed tears over Steve. You did not like going to clubs a lot but at times, you would accompany the team to let loose. Your eyes always followed Steve. It would break you to see him others but Natasha would always try to block your view of him and offer you your favourite wine.

You could not cut him off, no matter how hard you tried. Mostly because you were the one he got vulnerable with, other than Natasha, Bucky and Tony. he would ask your advice on how to date women, what to reply to their flirty texts or even what would be good food for each particular woman he went out with. One day, you did it. You mustered up courage to tell Steve how you felt.

“Hey Steve, can I talk to you, privately?”

You were in the kitchen where Natasha, Wanda, Vision, Bucky and Sam were having breakfast with him. All of them looked at you with surprised eyes. They did not expect you to confess, especially when they thought you were joking last night. It was a movie night in the compound yesterday and everyone but Steve were present. He had a mystery date. During the rom-com, a discussion of love confessions began. Everyone talked about their way of confessing and then it was your turn. They all looked at you.

“I would just walk up to the guy and tell him I like him. I would also tell him that he needs to feel no pressure to like me back. I just had a feeling I needed to get out and it is now out. I hope this does not disturb our dynamics.”

They knew that is exactly what you'll say because these words sounded rehearsed. They kind of were. You had run these words in your mind over and over again to make them sound as much less pressured as possible. And when you woke up that day, you wanted them out. You wanted to say them to Steve out loud. You went with zero expectations because if you don't expect anything, you won't be disappointed. But you were expecting something here, with Steve. Your dynamics with Steve was different, there was a love you had sensed in his gentle touches, his laughter with you and especially his way of standing very close to you.

“I like you, Steve.” You immediately let it out, as soon as you close the door of your room behind you.

“I like you too, y/n.” he chuckles. “What is it?”

“No no. Not like a friend. I like you. More than friends. I have been, for a while. I, uh, wanted to get it out of the way. I really do like you a lot but that doesnt mean I am asking for any commitment from you. I just, the feelings are strong and I needed to say it out loud. I just hope this, my so-called confession, does not change the dynamics between us. I like what we are now and I don't want you to feel any pressure. It was a statement, I wanted to let you know.”

You didn't realize you had run out of breath, or you were holding it in. you were looking at Steve, taking in his expressions. They went from furrowed eyebrows to a stoic face to relief after your last statement.

“Oh good! I thought our friendship would be affected. You are such a dear friend to me and I don't want to lose that. Also, your advice with girls has been working wonders for me.” He hugs you. The hug might be warming your body but the pang in your heart is making the surrounding colder. “And I have been meaning to share a big news with you. I was going to tell everyone but I wanted to tell you this first. Sharon and I are finally going out together. Yesterday, it was her I went out with. The date went amazing and maybe I'll ask her to be my girlfriend. Your advice to approach her worked so well!”

Today, seeing them together, arm in arm, killed you inside. He proposed to her. He still called you a dear friend. It was a very happy occasion but nobody was happy and Steve was oblivious to it. He had been oblivious to a lot of things but there were things, on the compound, that even his friends tried to tell him, or dropped hints about, about Sharon but he wasn't ready to see them. Sharon was smirking at everyone, especially you. You smiled widely, politely, for Steve. This was the day when your heart was finally crushed and you knew that Steve will never see you for you.

Steve and Sharon weren't even dating that long. What was it? Six months. And then there was this engagement. Steve did not know how badly Sharon had been treating not just you but almost everyone. She kept on reminding and taunting Bucky of his past, she would call Natasha a slutty assassin with zero integrity, she would taunt Wanda about her tortured past and you were favourite victim. She would comment about your weight, make you question your friendship with the rest of the team and explicitly tell you that you were nothing but a joke in Steve’s life.

Bucky was always very close to telling Steve about Sharon’s evil stepmother behaviour but you always stopped him. You did not want Steve to be unhappy. He looked happy after so long, after Peggy. You cried every night though, or sometimes, in the middle of the day. If Steve ever caught you crying, you would blame it on some book you read. But everyone knew why. One day, when you were in the kitchen chopping vegetables, your brain went to a very familiar dark place. If it wasn't for Wanda, you would have used the knife not just for vegetables, again. From that day onwards, somebody would always be around you, hovering. Steve’s girlfriend’s taunts were the final straws to your already affected mental health. Steve did not know about any of this because Sharon would not let him. She had started to stray him away from everyone.

Tony had had it enough. He, very generously, arranged for an engagement party for Rogers and Sharon. The party was going fantastic and everyone was having the time of their lives. Steve and Sharon were smiling, standing arm in arm and greeted every guest. Tony saw everything that went down in his party. He saw Sharon shove you in a corner, he saw Sharon pour her cocktail on your head and he also heard the profanities she spewed about everybody to demean you. She made it a point to show you that you were a nobody and that the team just tolerated you and Steve was just being nice because you had manipulated him. Tony also heard you defend everyone by name, everyone but yourself.

Steve saw you leave. He felt a pang in his heart. He could not ignore you anymore. He had started to see Sharon trying to monopolize his time. He had started to see the team being distant and he also saw them hovering around you, especially when you are around sharp objects. He did see that your hand was wrapped in bandage and everyone in the compound was stressed but Sharon would not let him talk to you. She said you were just trying too hard to be his friend and that he should not give into your whims.

Steve wanted to follow you but Sharon appeared out of nowhere with a wide smile and a fully filled glass of cocktail. He knew this was new because no way did she finish the previous one so fast. Steve looked around and found his team had started to form a circle, the discussion between them looked serious and Tony looked very angry. Pepper was stopping him from doing something and very soon he saw Bucky run towards the elevator. Wanda was looking at Vision who was reassuring her and Natasha dragged Bruce away to a more quiet corner. He saw Hulk trying to take over but Natasha was handling it.

Steve had been feeling pangs every time he saw you. He missed your smile, your giggles and your tiny comments that had him laughing for a long time. He hadn't seen you smile in a long time. Every time now, after announcing his relationship with Sharon, he saw your light dim. He noticed your lack of appetite, he noticed your dull face and he noticed your sad eyes. He also noticed that your eyes would still twinkle, every time he walked in the room but the light left it just as immediately. He hasn't hugged you in a long time. He started to remember how much he was all over you. He loved to hug you, hold your hand and hover over you. He loved when you sat to discuss something together, your foreheads were always touching. He loved how every time, you would nudge his forehead with yours and they would giggle about it. He loved how close he was to you, physically and otherwise. He also missed his friends though. He missed hanging out with everyone.

Sharon had started showing her cracks and Tony had had enough. When Bucky ran after you to make sure you didn't do something stupid, Pepper dragged him away to calm him down. He yelled about how dumb Steve is for a superhero and how he wished he could start the war between them all over again. Pepper was calmly listening to his rant when suddenly she gasped. She saw Steve standing at the door and seeing his expressions, it seemed that he had heard some things that Tony was ranting about. Tony saw Steve and rushed to him, grabbing his collar.

“You are the dumbest person ever. You let a wonderful woman slip to get with a fucking ungrateful bitch. I don't care if she's your fiancee anymore. I will not have her in this compound any longer. If you want to marry her, do it but do not expect anybody to be present for you. She will never step foot in this place. This is a safe space and she ruined it for her. She ruined her peace, her sanity and her heart and so did you. Walk away Rogers before I pull an iron punch.”

Steve was baffled by this. What had happened? What did Sharon do? Was Tony talking about you? Did everyone know you had confessed your feelings for him? It did anger him. He thought that that conversation was between him and you but if everyone knew then it was embarrassing. He started walking in your room’s direction. He wanted answers, until he saw a crowd in front of your room. He saw Sam trying to calm Bucky and Vision was standing at the door, as if waiting for something. His pace slowed. He saw your room open with Wanda all teary eyed. She nodded at Vision and held the door open for him. Bucky wanted to go in but Wanda patted his chest to back off. He saw blood on Wanda’s dress. Were you hurt? Was there an attack?

Steve was approaching the scene slowly. Bruce was the first one to walk out of the door. He looked at everyone and said something in a low voice, so low that all he heard was “increase hovering.” Bruce moved aside and out stepped Vision and Natasha. Even her dress was bloodied. When Bucky turned, he saw his hands were covered in blood and so were his clothes. His eyes were rimmed red from tears. Natasha, too, was crying. Bruce wrapped his arms around her. Natasha’s eyes snapped at him and so did everyone else’s. He walked closer and saw Bucky carrying a bloodied knife. It was your knife. He had seen you rave about a pink handled small knife that made it easier for her to cut things. He would always see you use that whenever you cooked. It was your favourite knife.

Bucky tried to jump on him but Vision held him back. Natasha looked at him and shook her head. “Bruce, please bring my night clothes. I will stay with her tonight.” “So will I.” Wanda said in a very wobbly tone. Vision rubbed her back. Steve was very confused.

“What is going on?” Steve heard Tony come behind him. Natasha pointed her head at the knife and it was as if Tony knew. He wanted to go in your room but Pepper held him back. “Let her rest tonight, dear. We will come by tomorrow. We all are exhausted. Let's end the party downstairs and go to bed.”

Steve was still clueless. He had no idea what happened. If you were attacked then why was Tony not making plans to get revenge? Why were everyone crying and being so calm about it?

“Why is her knife in your hand, Bucky? Why is there blood on your clothes? Somebody tell me what is going with her!” His voice rose. He didn't know he cared so much about you. You weren't a field agent. You were more, staying in the compound and analyzing data kind of agent. You did learn self defense but it obviously was never a skill you ever had to use. The team saw to it. He saw to it.

“Oh now you care! Now you want to ask how she is? Where were you six months ago? Hell, where were you today? Why the fuck are you here now? Why do you care?” Bucky burst out. Steve had never seen Bucky angry at him. Sam shakes his head and pulls Bucky back before he could punch Steve. He saw Bucky throw the knife in the trash and walk away.

“Nat? Wanda? What's wrong, why are you guys crying?”

“It must be because she must've manipulated them, again. She just never learns. I told her to stop using the Avengers as her private butlers so she pulled a stunt. Im sure it was just a ploy to get people to like her. Such a sick bitch. You guys should be-” Sharon’s rants were stopped by a sting on her cheek. Her head turned sideways and an angry hand print left on her cheek.

“Talk about her like that one more time and this wouldn’t end in just a slap. We've had enough of you. Walk out of the door before I throw you off the window.” Natasha coldly points at the elevator. “And you, Steve. Please, we don't want you here. At least, not right now. We are all exhausted. Let's talk tomorrow.” Natasha walks in your room with Wanda behind her. They closed the door before he could see you. But he did catch your glimpse, tucked in bed and eyes closed shut.

Steve could not sleep the entire night. Sharon beside him was no help either. She ranted all the way to her apartment about how the Avengers have fallen and that you were nothing but a pathetic excuse. Something about your sleeping did not sit right with him. After what he saw outside your room, he needed answers. He changed and drove to the compound. It was 5 in the morning and if he remembered correctly, Natasha would have gone combat training and Wanda would have gone to meditate in her room. Which meant you were in your room alone. Or so he thought. Tony had informed F.R.I.D.A.Y to keep an eye on you. So when Natasha and Wanda left your room, they activated FRIDAY who was told to alert any nearest Avenger about any movement in your room. Every Avenger, other than Steve, was on the list of calls. So when Steve opened the door to your room, which was surprisingly unlocked, a call went straight to the nearest Avenger, Bucky.

Steve stepped into your room and was immediately greeted by drips on your bedside. You were fast asleep because of the sedatives Bruce had given you. Your hand was bandaged and the only sound in the room were your soft snores. Steve, still confused, softly went near your hand. He also saw a large bruise on your arm and another bandage wrapped around your head. Why would no one tell him what happened? If you were attacked then why was he not informed. He is your emergency contact, why was he not contacted? Before he could even touch her hand, he felt a hand hold his shirt and drag him out of the room. He was thrown across by his own best friend.

“How dare you come to her room! Do not go near her or I swear I will forget you are my best friend. You have done enough damage. Walk away, Steve.”

“What have I done? I don't even know! What is wrong with her? Why is she so badly hurt? Why was I not informed of the attack in our home?” Steve shouted at Bucky. He saw everyone had started to gather around. He saw Bruce and Vision go into your room and slowly close the door behind them. “Why did they go into her room? She is vulnerable. I am not trusting them with her.” Steve tried to go in but was pushed back by Bucky. He stood in front of the door like a guard.

“What’s going on? I got a FRIDAY alert about y/n. Is she okay?” Both Natasha and Wanda rushed in.

“Bruce and Vision are in there with her. Steve here, was trying to touch her so I dragged him out. He has no right to be here, Nat. tell him to go away.” Bucky looked at him angrily.

“Buck, I know you are protective over her but i dont think Steve knows about any of this. Remember when we found out that Steve never got our texts because Sharon kept on deleting them? She has been doing that to him for so long that he doesn't even know.” Wanda, very slowly rubbed Bucky’s back to calm him.

This was news to Steve. He always trusted people around him too easily. Once he got with Sharon, he had given her all access to his phone. He did not know what she was doing behind his back. “What do you mean by deleting messages? What are you talking about?”

Natasha pulled his hand and took him to the living room. Bucky, Wanda, Sam and Clint followed. Bruce and Vision followed them not soon after. “She is fine. Still under the sedatives. She should be waking up in an hour or two.”

Natasha took Steve’s hand in her own. She looked up and saw a disheveled Tony walk in the living room. “I heard this is the place where we are doing interventions now. I'd like to begin. Rogers-”

“No Tony, I am beginning this. I should tell him in a very calm voice. You, Bucky and Bruce are just going to want to beat him up.” Natasha intervened.

“Steve, did you know that Sharon was manipulating you away from us? Did you know that when we sent you texts about our hangout plans, we either never got replies or we would get rude lengthy texts calling us clingy? Especially Y/N. We always told her to text you because you always listened to her but then she started to grow quieter and slowly she lost her glow, Steve. She thought you cut her off because she confessed to you and-”

“Did she tell you she confessed? Why would she do that? Isn't she embarrassed? Why-” Steve stopped when he saw Bucky trying to come for him again. Tony pulled Bucky down.

“She didn't have to, punk. She has been in love with you for five fucking years, you blind ass punk. The day you announced Sharon to us, we saw her die inside. We knew she was going to confess to you because we kinda forced her to think in that direction. We wanted her to confess to you so you would see you love her too and not Sharon. The only thing she told us was that she was so happy for you, she could die. She” Bucky choked and unshed tears resurfaced. Wanda rubbed his back.

“Steve, she loves you but she never pushed her love on you. She was happy with what she had with you. Do you even know that the way you used to treat her looked like you were her boyfriend. We all thought that your friendship was flourishing but every time you would go on dates, we all were waiting to hold her broken heart. She never let us. Hell, she was struggling with mental health and she never let us know! She looked like her usual self until your engagement broke the final thread that held her. You abandoned her, Steve. She-” Natasha started crying.

Steve did not realize that he had hurt you so bad. He did love you but he saw you were happy being his friend and he saw how much Bucky relied on you, he assumed-. But he shouldn't have. He asked you, a person who loved her, tips on how to impress other women and you gave him all honest answers. You never tried to sabotage his love life. You never did what Sharon is doing. Steve would have done everything he did for other women for you. He could've been engaged to you right now if he hadn't been so blind.

“But why are you crying? What happened to her?” Steve wanted answers now. If she was so in love with him then why didn't she fight for him? Why was she lying there like a dead-

“Steve,” Wanda started in a small voice. “Why would she fight for you when she knew you already were set on someone else? She confessed to you and you still went for Sharon. Why would she fight after that? Did you know she used to self harm? Even when you were her friend, did you even notice the bandaids she had on her hands? If it wasn't for Bucky, we would have lost her a long time ago. Bucky noticed her pulling bandages off of her hand and saw the cuts. He talked to her, she cried and he helped her stop. She was clean for two years until she wasn't. You broke her Steve but what broke her more was Sharon. Did you even know how much she has berated her? She would find a way to get Y/N alone and berate her to no end.”

Wanda took a deep stuttering breath. Vision hugged her tightly and she buried her head in his chest. Tony cleared his throat and continued. “Wanda caught her trying to self harm again after Sharon left the kitchen. If it wasn't for Wanda, we would've lost Y/N that day. Since that day, we all met and decided to never leave her alone. We would not let sharp objects near her for a long time. As soon as she was done with her task, we would take it away. She knew why and never questioned it. Yesterday crossed all limits though, Rogers. You never came to talk to her. You didn't even bother to talk to her and then that psycho bitch did it. She pulled Y/N in a secluded corner and berated not just her but us too. She told her that you were her pet and would do what she wanted. She said she would control you to put Avengers in their right place which was behind the bars or underground. She poured her cocktail on her head, Steve! Her head! She even tried to rip her dress because she was jealous how beautiful she looked! Y/N ran away. I gathered them and told them everything. Bucky ran after her because he knew she would do something again and she did. By the time Bucky reached, it was too late, she had lost a lot of her blood and her bedroom floor was all blood. She had hit her head and hand on her vanity when she fell. Bucky asked FRIDAY for help and that's what you saw last night. Even though I raised protection on her, Natasha and Wanda wanted to stay with her.”

“You have done enough damage, Steve. Please go away. Go back to your Sharon. We have no hard feelings against you but we really don't want Sharon here. You can marry her and retire but do not talk to Y/N ever again. She's had enough.” Bruce chimed in. Everyone nodded. He had not just lost Y/N but also every friend of his. He knew you were sensitive but never thought that you would-

“Please, let me meet her. Once. please. If she tells me to go away, I will walk away. But if she tells me to stay, I will fight for her.” Steve begged and looked at Bucky. He knew Bucky would be the last hurdle to reach to you.

“So you will still marry Sharon after everything you learnt about the evil stepmother. Wow Steve, I never thought you had zero backbone in the relationship. If you want to talk to her, leave Sharon. You have a choice Steve, either pick Sharon or pick Y/N and with Y/N, come us.” Bucky glares at Steve haughtily.

“It's not so simple, Bucky. We made a public announcement. I cannot just take it back. The world knows.”

“It is an engagement. It can be broken. You will let yourself marry a manipulator than be with the woman who makes you happy! Hah! The integrity of America really is as sturdy as you. Listen very carefully, Rogers, you always have a choice but I think Sharon is making all the decisions here. Also, here. Watch this. Maybe you will finally know what woman you are going to marry. Let's go everyone, I want to see if Y/N is fine.” Tony got up and pulled everyone out of the room, leaving Steve with the ipad full of videos of Sharon berating you and you standing tall for your friends. Not yourself, but your friends. Yesterday’s video broke his heart. He could hear his laughter in the background while you were drenched in her cocktail. Tony was right, he had to make the right choice.

You wake up and the first thing you see is Bucky holding your hand. You smiled slightly and Bucky released his breath. “They all want to meet you.” You nodded and everyone poured in. your eyes were glancing around to catch the glimpse of that one person. You saw his head at the very end, outside the door. Bucky knew you wanted Steve to be here but he or anyone else wasn't going to let Steve in till he made a decision and he had hurt you enough for them to become this protective over you.

Steve saw them pour in your room and he just stood outside your door, he caught your eye and that halted his breath. Even in this condition, you were choosing him. Not out loud but he saw the way your eyes were searching for him in the crowd and the way they twinkled, just enough to give him strength to break things off. He wanted to run in your room and shake you and talk sense into you and tell you how sorry he is. He ran.

He drove like a madman back to Sharon’s apartment and started packing as soon as he walked through the door. He hadn't had a chance to shift his stuff from the compound to her place. Sharon just bought him everything new because she said she wanted to build a new life with him. How blind was he? How did he not see what she was trying to do? He heard Sharon yelling for his attention but he was too busy stuffing his clothes in his gym duffle bag that he brought with him. He saw his electronics on Sharon’s side of the bed. He knew she was stalking him through those so he did what any insane, high on adrenaline person would do. He picked those up and smashed them on the floor. He heard Sharon screech like a vulture but he didn't care. He stepped on them many times to destroy every last bit of them. He took off his ring and suddenly, he could breathe clearly. He saw Sharon with disheveled hair, standing in the living room. He threw the ring at her feet and walked out. No explanation.

He drove back to the compound. He saw everyone training. When they saw his car back in the compound, it had been almost 6 in the evening. They all saw him run in the residential area. They knew he was rushing to meet you but they also knew he would not meet her today. Steve rushed to her room but as soon as he opened the door, he saw Bucky standing with his back to the door and mild beeping in the back. His heart sank. Bucky turned around and pushed Steve out of the room.

“Did you not break Sharon’s phone while you were breaking yours?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sharon called. She spewed so much nonsense and called her words. She called her a homewrecker. Y/N broke down and her pressure increased. I called for Bruce but between the blood loss and the agitation, she took a hit and she had to be attached to the heart monitor to make sure she stays calm. Honestly Steve, good decision but you could have handled it better. Now please go. I don't have energy left in me to even punch you.”

All Steve caught was another glimpse of yours and it broke his heart. He had made you suffer so much. You were right there. All along. He lost you. He went back to his room. It still had your lingering faint smell. You loved roses and the last time you were in his room, for a reason, you left a part of you. He looked around. He saw his shirts were neatly hung in the closet and so were his Henley’s and pants. He never left it this neat. It was all you. He turned to his bed and saw slight smudge on his pillow. He looked at it closely and saw that they were the smudges of your tears. Tears filled his eyes and he broke down crying. He held his head in his hand and cried about all the times you were so close to him. He could have kissed you and you would have let him.

Bucky never left your side. You wanted to ask about Steve but everytime everyone would avoid his topic. It had been two weeks. You were off of your bed and moved around the compound. You hadn't run into Steve yet. More like, you were not made to run into Steve. Every time he was near, someone would distract you and take you away from the same area. Meanwhile Steve tried to redeem himself in the eyes of others. He did everything for everyone. He, many times, didn't realize that many of the demands made were for Y/N. tony was loving this torture phase of his. Natasha rolled her eyes at him. Tony had contacted the press and put out an exclusive article about the broken engagement of Captain America. He made sure to paint Captain in such a wonderful light that Sharon’s real colors were soon revealed. Sharon had pissed off a lot of people and it had all come to bite her in the ass. Y/N was kept away from every news article. Tony had made sure she never got her hands on news channels ever again. At least until he thinks it's safe for her.

It was the middle of the night and you had a mild nightmare. It had been three weeks since the Sharon incident but sometimes, she still haunted you. You woke up, unable to sleep. You used your bathroom and sighed. You were sleeping well, sure, because of your treatment but that did not make your face glow the way it used to. You noticed how dead you looked in the mirror. You walk out of your room and make your way to the kitchen. Maybe icecream would help. Sam said he bought your favorite.

There, in the kitchen light, you saw the person you least expected to see. Steve was sitting with his head hung low and drinking water. He woke up from another restless night and thought water might help. Your feet never made a sound but Steve always knew when you walked in. He had the same feeling right now. His eyes immediately shot up and there you stood, at the dining table, just 4 feet away from him. He did not move. His eyes wide. He did not want to scare you off. You walked slowly to the fridge, feeling his eyes on you. Goosebumps rose on your arms. You scooped icecream in a bowl and put it back in the fridge. It seemed the entire scene was going in slow-mo.

“Do you- do you want some?” You asked in a very quiet tone, not looking him in the eye. Your eyes were cast down and they dragged themselves to his hands. No ring. Her heart fluttered but she killed it with the memories of what had been.

“No. I, uh, i don't- Can I taste from your bowl? I've never tasted it even though I have been buying it for a really long time.” Steve looked at her. He wanted her to look him in the eye. He wanted to see the smile and twinkle in her eyes, every time she said hi to him. She nodded her head and sat down at the dining table. Steve followed you and sat down beside you, pulling the chair as close to you as you used to sit. He leaned closer and your foreheads almost touched.

She scooped some icecream on the spoon and offered it to Steve. He shook his head and turned her hand to her mouth. “You first.” you took the icecream in and a small moan escaped you. Something stirred in Steve. You scooped some more icecream and this time put it right on Steve’s lips. “You should try before I finish it off. This is my favourite. You are lucky I am even letting you taste mine.” Steve chuckled lightly and let her feed him. This time, you looked at his mouth and saw some icecream dribble from the side. With no thought in your head, you swiped your thumb and cleaned it off his mouth. He held your wrist and pulled you a little closer. Your breath hitched. He brought your thumb to his mouth and sucked it clean. Your eyes shot up to his and his eyes darkened. He wanted to kiss you right there. He saw desire in your eyes and he saw your eyes look back at his lips. But he controlled himself. He didn't want to kiss you just because the moment was hot. He wanted to kiss you after having a real conversation.

You felt the atmosphere electrify. Before you could do something you regret, you stood up. Shoving the icecream bowl at Steve, you ran out of the room asking him to finish it off. Steve chuckled. He loved your shy reaction. He loved how reactive you were to his touch. You always were but now Steve really noticed. He finished the icecream and made a note why he was buying this flavour. Not because Sam wanted it but because it was your favourite.

Sleep evades you and your heart won't stop thumping. Steve is just one door down. You can go there, kiss him and get it over with. But you wanted to know if he was okay and he wasn't wearing his ring. Desire starts to build up in you and you pull out your vibrator. Pulling your shorts down, you press the vibrator on yourself. Moans leave your mouth as you think Steve’s tongue on you. You imagine him all over you, kissing you, sucking on your nipples. Steve’s name escapes your mouth, louder than anticipated. The vibrations shake your core as your fingers go in and out picturing Steve. You climax just as Steve, in your imagination, comes in you. What you did not know is just outside your room, Steve had heard you cry out to him. He ran to his room to release his long awaited tension.

Another two weeks go by and this time you know Steve is in the room but he wasn't allowed to approach you. Nobody knew about your little meeting and you liked to keep it that way. You stole glances and so did he. You wanted to tell him to meet you again but there was never a right time. He tried to go near you but someone would always be hovering around you. He was sick of it. He wanted to talk to you, clarify. But you finally found a way to send him a message. The safest place to meet him was his room so you found a stray pen lying around in the kitchen and picked up the small piece of tissue. You pretended to put something back in the pantry and looked at Steve. It was as if he understood, he slowly slipped away from the dining table. You had a fraction of a second before someone noticed Steve near you so you slipped the note right in his hand when Bucky showed up. You pointed at your favourite snack that was put away from Sam’s reach. Bucky pushed Steve out and helped you with your needs. You looked at Steve and saw him read the note discreetly. He slipped it in his pocket and looked at you with a slight smirk on his face. You blushed and turned away.

Midnight could not have come any later. The waiting seemed like an eternity to you. You kept on telling yourself that you just wanted to ask what happened with Sharon when internally, you knew, your desire for him had bubbled more than ever. You kept listening to conversations outside. Slowly, the voices faded and you heard doors being shut. You figured it would be safer to wait out another half an hour before running to Steve.

Steve heard soft feet running to his door. He opened his door and caught the glimpse of your bracelet glinting that he had gifted you on your birthday in the first year of five. He grabbed your hand and waist and pulled you into his room. He closed the door and pushed you flush against it. His hands fumbled to lock the door. Your breathing synchronized with his and your chest was pushed against his. He is so close that you can just look up and touch his lips with yours. His hand is still gripping your waist. You refuse to look up to him. The light in his room does not hide how red your cheeks have become.

You could hear his smirk. His free hand grabbed your face and lifted it gently to meet his eyes. He had miscalculated the gap between the two of you. As soon as he lifted your face, your lips brushed against his. A gasp escapes you and your eyes widen. Your innocent reaction adds more to desire and without a second thought, he brings down his face and puts his lips on yours. Your brain immediately accepts his touch and you wrap your arms around his neck. The kiss starts slow but Steve starts to pour in more passion. He deepens the kiss and you moan loudly. Your voice awakens him even more and he bites your bottom lip. Your tongue in his mouth was losing the battle to control itself. You play with his hair and tug them, gaining a moan from him. He pulls you more towards him. Your hand moves away from his hair and moves to his cheek. Your bandage rubs against his face that pulls him out of the kiss. He reluctantly pulls away from you and you finally breathe the air. He brings your bandaged wrist to his lips and kisses it gently. It sends electric shocks down your spine.

He pulls you to his bed. You've sat on his bed before. He makes you sit with your back towards the headboard and covers your legs with his blanket. He wouldn't be able to talk if he looked at you in your pajamas. You had forgotten you weren't wearing any underwear under your tank top and shorts you call pajamas. His eyes raked you up and down and while covering you with his blanket, his hand accidentally brushed against your boobs, erecting your nipples, which were very much visible. He could not take his eyes off of your well kissed lips and you could move past his darkened blue eyes that matched so well with his pink lips. You both cleared your throat. He sat in front of her and tried to make her as comfortable as he possibly could.

He took her bandaged hand in his hand. “Why didn't you tell me you struggled?” he softened his voice so much, she felt like crying. She had heard his soft tones but never this soft, never this vulnerable. “You never showed me your vulnerability, you know. I realized that after so long. I don't know what you're afraid of, what triggers you or what annoys you. You have always been your pleasant self. Why? Did you not trust me enough like you trust Bucky?”

“I never told Bucky anything. He just, he was just there. He found out. You, well, you had responsibilities. Why would I want to put you under more pressure? If I told you, you would've been even more fussy about me. I wouldn't want to burden you. Adding to your responsibility. I am not even someone you consider family, like you do Bucky and Nat. my telling you things would have messed up your life. I don't want that. We are not that close anyway.” You say softly. There was no need for aggression. You knew that sooner or later someone would ask this question but you didn't expect it to be Steve. Others had just accepted you as their own but with Steve you always felt like an outsider even though you shared moments.

“But why would you- What do you mean we aren't that close? I thought we were best friends! I thought of you as my family. Why would you think you're a burden? Baby, you are a responsibility I would take over anything. All you had to do was say the words.” he cupped your cheeks and forced you to look in his eyes. Tears welled up in your eyes. Your new nickname got lost in the angst.

“I am a burden, Steve. Sharon was right. I never deserved you. I never deserved anyone. All of you are so nice to me. Someone with nothing to contribute to the team. Sharon rightfully said that I am just a burden they are carrying until I drop dead. Then you'll all be free.” Your tears flowed freely. You were crying and Steve felt such rage. He never should've been with Sharon. How could she say that to someone who was there for everyone. You were the backbone of the team and Sharon broke you. He sat beside you and pulled you to his chest. You cry harder. Everyone showered you with love and care but it was Steve you wanted and now that he was here, the tears flowed free. And Steve knew that. He felt that. He rubbed your back while you sobbed and wet his shirt.

“Baby, you are not a burden. Not to me and neither to the team. They all love you so much. Did you know, if it wasn't for running into you accidentally, they never would have let me near you. Bucky has been threatening me on a daily basis to not go to your room or talk to you. So did everyone else. Baby, I was in the wrong. I was blind.”

“But you are talking to me right now! What if Bucky knows about this? Will he combat you? Oh my god! I thought about only myself again. I am so sorry. I-” You were silenced by Steve pecking your lips. “Hush, baby. Thinking about yourself is the best thing you can ever do to me. I will handle Bucky. I want to keep you here with me forever now. I have no intention of letting you go, baby.” he pecks your lips again. Your eyes widen.

“But, what about Sharon? I don't want to be a homewrecker.” you whispered the last part softly. Steve scoffed. “I threw my ring at her face and left the next day of the party. I did not know the things she had done to you and me. She manipulated me into believing that my friends did not want me and that my life is better with her. You are not a homewrecker because there was no home to begin with.” He draws circles on your back. Your tank top has ridden up a little from the back and his skin on yours is calming you down way better than any other attempts she had made. “I am sorry. I was so blind, baby. I never saw how Sharon treated you. If it wasn't for Tony and his video feeds, I never would've known how bad things were. Baby, I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I know I am not worth your forgiveness.”

You didn't know where this courage came from but you were now straddling him. You cupped his face and looked him right in the eyes. “You are worth everything, Steve. You have nothing to apologize for. It was Sharon and not you. I knew that. You would never swear, even in your texts and when she sent me those texts, there were definitely words you would not use.”

Steve’s eyes snapped open. He never thought of you knowing him so damn well. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you on his chest. His head rested on the headboard and your nose touched each other. This was surely the moment to say it.

“I love you.”

You were taken aback. You never expected Steve to-

“Steve, are you sure? I know it is an emotional moment but-”

“I love you, Y/N. I have been in love with you for god knows how long. Honestly, I was just to dumb to see my own feelings. When you told me you liked me, I wanted to jump with joy but I had made commitments to Sharon so couldn't act on anything. And then Sharon kept on pulling those stunts and she drifted me from you. Did you know my heart stopped when I saw blood on Wanda, Nat and Bucky’s clothes? I thought I lost you that day. I thought I lost the chance to hold your face like this, and peck you like this and tell you I have been in love with you for a long time. Give me one more chance, baby. I want to prove to you that I deserve to be with an angel like you. Let me take you on dates.”

“There are other ways to prove you deserve me as well, you know.” You said softly again, trying to hide your face.

“Are you sure, baby?”

“Yes.”

Steve pulls you to him and your lips land on his. You groan and your hips start to rub his erection. Steve moans loudly and grinds against your core. You gasp against his lips as your shorts move a bit to the side and your wetness drips on his erection. His lips move to your neck and he nips, sucks and licks your neck, living love bites all over. “You moan so good, baby.” His hands travel up your back inside your tank top. His fingers brushing against your breasts sending shivers up your spine. Your moans and gasps grow louder along with his. The grinding grows aggressive and you are very close to your release. Steve moves his hips faster against you and he cums along with you. Your head rests on the crook of his neck and he leaves soft kisses over your neck and shoulder.

He flips you on the mattress and you land softly on his pillow. “Baby, are you sure? Just say it once and I will let you go. If not, I am going to make up for a long time.” Your nod and a soft yes was enough for him to get naked. He kneels and pulls your shorts away to see your glistened pussy. He groans. “Baby, you came ready for me, didnt you?” he does not wait for your answer and dives right suck your wet cunt. You moan and raise your back. Your tank top was the only piece between you and him. You remove it quickly and pull his one hand to your boobs. He plays with your nipple, pinching and pulling, making you moan even louder. “Baby, you are so fantastic. I am going to put my fingers in you and make you cum for me. I will slurp you all up.”

You gasp when he puts his finger in you and starts pumping. His tongue found your clit and he used his other hand to rub it even harder. You hold the blanket tightly in one hand while your other hand guides his head to find a better spot in your core. His other finger takes away your breath for a second and he speeds up his pumping. “I am so close, Steve.”

“Cum for me, baby.”

“Steve. Ste- Steve. I-” you moan loudly when your second orgasm washes over you. Steve laps up every last drop of your juice and adjusts himself to enter your core.

“This is okay, right baby?” you nodded and pulled on his hand. He chuckles and falls on you, balancing his weight on his arms. He kisses you and drags his kisses down to your breasts. He mouths one nipple and pinches the other, gaining a sweet moan from you. He shifts your other nipple and does the same. He adjusts his hips and enters you with a thrust. Your back lifts and he leaves kisses on your neck. You meet his thrusts with the same strength. He moans loudly in your ears and it is just plain music.

“Go harder, Steve. Please. Help me cum.” You moan. Steve pushes in deeper and starts pumping faster. He hits your g-spot that leaves you seeing stars. “That’s the spot, isn't it, baby.” he silences your moans with a kiss. “Let me cum in you baby. You will let me, won't you?” His thrusts slows down a little, gaining a whine from you. He smirks and kisses you deep, slowing down. “Yes! God! Please Steve! Cum in me please. I need you so much.” His speed takes over and hits that spot again and again till you cum on his cock. Your walls clenching and making it so much easier for Steve to cum in you.

He falls on you. His weight pushes you into the mattress. You whine a little, weakly trying to push him off of you. He laughs in your ears, making you blush. He was still inside you and the juices had overflowed out of your pussy. He lifts himself on his elbow and cups your face. The look of pure bliss on your face makes him feel like the greatest achievement ever. He pulls out of you and carries you to the bathroom. He cleans you up and puts his t-shirt on you. Your head lulls on his shoulder.

“Baby, we've got to get a little dressed or I will not be able to stop.”

“Who told you to stop though.” your muffled voice raised his desire again.

“Baby, don't say things you don't mean. You'll regret letting me do you over and over again.” he points out to her that she is lulling to sleep.

“Wow, you just said you had a lot of making up to do. I don't see things being made up here.” You lift your face to him and kiss his chin. You smile. His heart melts but what you said rang his desire for you again. “Fine. I will make up. Just like you want me to.” He picks you up and tosses you on the mattress and joins you in it. His t-shirt tossed aside and his lips back on yours.

The sun was seeping through the blinds in Steve’s room. You wake up with his arms around you. You were pulled so much on his side that the rest of the Avengers could sleep on the other side. You stretch your hand above your head and hiss at a slight sting on your wrist. You look at the bandage and slowly rub it. Steve sees your face fall and grabs your wrist. Slowly, he runs circles on the bandage, easing the pain a little.

“It stings a little.” You say, pouting. “Don't worry, baby. You'll be good as new and then I will never let you get hurt.” He kisses your scar on the forehead.

You jerk up from the bed with a surprise. “Oh shit! I stayed the night, Steve! They'll worry. I've got to get to my room! Bucky is going to be so worried and-”

“Why are you so worried about Bucky?” It was not just his tone that gave away his jealousy, it was his face as well. “I don't like that punk hanging out around you. You are mine. All mine. Not his.” You laugh. Your laughter takes him by surprise and leaves a small smile on his face even though he is still jealous.

“Baby,” it was your turn to sweet talk. “I am all yours. But he is a friend who first found me like this. He worries a lot because he had thought about these things but never did it. Also, he is your best friend. To be honest, I befriended him because he was your best friend. I wanted to know more about you.” You put on Steve’s t-shirt and shuffle around to wear your shorts. Steve stands up from the bed with all his glory. Your eyes dart down. He knows he affects you so he saunters his way to his sweatpants and puts them on, very slowly. You look away and hear Steve laugh.

“You are such a tease. I should've just let Bucky take care of me instead of you.” You fake a huff and walk to the door but before you could unlock it, Steve spins you and pins you against it. “Let me spell this out for you, baby. You. Are. Mine. Bucky can find someone else but you? I am keeping you all to myself.” his dark eyes roam on your body and your core warms up.

“I did not know you were a possessive man, Steve.” You slowly put your hands on his abs and trace all the way to his neck. His cock twitches against you, telling you to not go. “Look at that, I might have to stay a little longer to take care of you.” Steve pulls you back to his bed and you hope nobody is awake to catch you.

Tony was already alerted when you left your room yesterday night. He saw the feed of you sneaking into Rogers’ room. “Bucky, sorry bud. Your efforts went to waste. You said a month but there is still a week left and she's already in his room. Pay up, pal. You lost.” Bucky grumbled and pulled out a $100 bill.

“Damn! I really thought we’d make him suffer more.” Nat pulls out $50 to pay up.

“You bet on my love life! You bet on her?!” Steve emerged in the dining room with his arms around you. You blush furiously seeing how everyone now knew you spent the night with Steve.

“To be fair, Tony has to pay me $500 for making you suffer. I told him I wouldn't last a month but I would last at least two weeks. I beat him so in all technicalities, I am the real winner.” You smile brightly and take the bills from everyone. “This is going to pay for our room’s new furniture.” You pecked his cheeks and went to grab a waffle, leaving Steve baffled and everyone in dismay.

[csuitebitches]

One of the ways we learn things, especially as babies and children, is visually. We see how our parents and people around us are behaving, and we copy that.

Imitation is sometimes the best way to learn something.

This imitation doesn’t just end when we learn how to pick up a spoon or walk or talk - just that the medium and the person influencing changes.

You’re going to emulate the behaviour you subconsciously learn from the content you consume.

Think about it. You’re getting influenced every single day whether it’s for a minor purchase or a major change. And it’s not even just by online content.

When you’re friends with different people, you may notice how you suddenly picked up the slang your friend says, or they picked up the way you do your eyeliner.

We get influenced and influence others at the same time.

There’s nothing bad about this as long as you’re not falling in the wrong crowd/ bad relationships/ not focusing on school or work trap.

Use it to your benefit instead.

My “fun” social medias algorithms are all programmed to give me content of highly productive women, in their own ways. Some of them are really good at managing their lifestyle, some at their business, some with make up and some with cooking, some with exercise. What I ensure that stays common is strong inner confidence.

I don’t like watching people cracking self deprecating jokes because I don’t find it funny. Even in real life, when someone around me says something self deprecating, I don’t indulge in that conversation because a) I’m not your chosen cheerleader b) I don’t care about your sob stories if you’re going to bait me like this - I’d rather someone tell me something openly and honestly. My friends know this, my family knows this, I’d rather you get to the point of what’s going wrong in your life than have you “drop hints” as a joke.

I also don’t like watching chronic complainers because it gets exhausting. I don’t mind watching someone who has struggled and then come out of it strong, but I really genuinely can’t stand whiny, over-the-top loud YouTubers because it makes my head hurt.

So. Moral of the story.

No one is stopping you from watching fun content, but I’m advising you to watch the sort of people you can actually learn something from. Learning doesn’t mean TedX talks, but watch women who you actually admire and can learn something from, even if its materialistic or superficial to many.

[lunas-side-anime-blog]

aot veteran/104 corp icks bc im back on my bullshit

someone requested AOT veteran icks, they didn't specify nsfw or not so I did both and also added sasha connie and jean bc i luv them:) feel free to message/inbox with requests!

(levi, erwin, hange, jean, sasha and connie)

Levi

will visit ur place and organize things without you asking. he'd just be like "ur welcome, now your kitchen makes sense" and ur like sir, I don't know where anything is now??? also he'd def the type to proclaim he's better than you for only getting two hours of sleep when you got four. honestly so many icks come to mind for this one, imma limit it to those two for now (stay tuned lol)

nsfw: tries to be rough with you but forgets his own strength. will try to throw you on the bed, but he does it too hard so you completely miss the bed and fall on the other side of it and he's just standing there like "🧍🏻...my bad."

Erwin

you cannot convince me this man doesn't wear water shoes at the pool. you guys say you want a dilf until you actually get one bc this is the type of shit it entails^^

nsfw: erwin cannot dirty talk for shit. im srry but if you're a lil kinky this isn't the man for you. try to call him daddy and he'd be like "we don't have kids?" and you explain the kink to him and he'd just say, "have you considered therapy?🤨" now he's concerned, boner gone, you feel called out, just go to sleep tbh

Hange

they're def a firm believer in natural deodorant and won't take the graceful hints that it's not working. prob wouldn't chill w them on a hot day is all i'm saying

nsfw: feel like they'd be really good in bed tbh like i'm struggling to think of an ick. hange has big dick energy, weirdos just do it better idk. i think maybe hange would try to spit in your mouth (they a freak) and they have so much and its thick and globby like the back of the throat type spit, your gonna choke bro im gagging as a i type-

Jean

bring back toxic masculinity because Jean's hair care routine is so good to the point he'll call out your split ends, i just know it

nsfw: a fucking chatterbox like his homies know everything. you've walked in on him telling connie in extreme detail how he had you in a full nelson last night while you screamed bloody murder and he doesn't see why ur mad. "babe, if anything i'm bragging about you 😏" fucking idiot istg. also kinda gross but I think he's the type to keep sniffing his fingers after fingering you like well into the next day EWW

Sasha

obvi she can't share for shit so I think she'd be an annoying person to eat out with. like yk when you're with your friends and only one person puts their card down so the rest can Venmo them? I think you can ask her to Venmo 20 and she'd send 15 and say something like "oh I didn't eat as many fries" but she fr did. never puts her card down either so believe it or not? jail.

nsfw: will literally be on her phone mid-sex with you. feel like she'd be really into the subway surfer vids and yeah, you go down on her and look up and she brought her own entertainment? ipad child behavior

Connie

i think he'd say "we" when talking about his fave sports team as if he contributed. like, "really connie, you helped win the superbowl? did you score a touchdown?" grow tf up

nsfw: insane bush on this one, i feel like he doesn't groom for shit and whatever, that's your choice! but I also feel like college-aged modern connie would talk shit about women who weren't bald down there and won't eat it unless it is. HYPOCRITE!! I think when he gets to his mid-twenties tho he'd mature (sasha beat his ass)