#both of you are special and deserving of love fuck your parents

[beedragony]

coping with my grief over Elodie’s death by writing her alive and well in a silly little jerejean au

[whirlybirbs]

— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development. 

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun? 

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago. 

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide. 

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest. 

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence. 

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time? 

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown. 

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care. 

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children. 

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents. 

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet. 

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it. 

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class? 

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes. 

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing. 

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now. 

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again. 

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time. 

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto. 

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero. 

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever." 

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk. 

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher. 

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember. 

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing. 

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle. 

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all. 

He hangs back. 

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto. 

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds. 

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are...  good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose. 

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions. 

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment. 

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy." 

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?" 

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates. 

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful. 

Fuyumi's contribution. 

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back. 

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine. 

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables. 

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you. 

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A. 

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks. 

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass. 

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy. 

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school. 

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home. 

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it. 

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you. 

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss. 

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen. 

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you. 

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit. 

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure. 

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years. 

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment. 

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park. 

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly. 

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest. 

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now. 

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. 

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone. 

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful. 

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.  

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together. 

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. 

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory. 

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

And then you whimper. 

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching. 

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up. 

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him. 

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that? 

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect. 

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person. 

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face. 

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs. 

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend. 

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki. 

[ryuucam]

FAMILY MATTERS

⋆｡𖦹°‧ despite being just a year younger than him, kuroo has always been overprotective: that’s what good childhood friends do, after all. so when you confide in him your crush on his best friend, bokuto, he’ll match you two up, on just one condition. he’ll be the one to fuck you first.

contains dark content, fauxcest (kuroo and reader have a sibling complex, no one’s related but the lines are very blurry), yan!kuroo, jock!bokuto, love triangles (no action between kuroo and bokuto), size kink, threesome, lots of pet names, spit, nii-chan x imouto, virgin!reader, dumbification, daddy (used once), spitroasting, blowjob, fingering, aftercare!, implied cuckolding/netorare (?), open ending, 4k + words.

notes me next OMG WHO SAID THAT!!!! ending sucks sorry guys </3 but im a sucker for kuroo nii

your parents split up before you were born, leaving you in a family friend’s care. a sweet, middle aged man, mr. yoshimura, who had no kids and no immediate family. he knew the lack of a parent - let alone two - is not something that’s easy on children, so he moved to tokyo, in a neighborhood full of kids and families, in hopes of raising you surrounded by peers and whatnot. despite this, 5 year old you didn’t know any better: all alone, in a place you don’t know, and too timid to become friends with any of the kids in the local playground. but, when little you was just about to sob and run back to your house, a boy, one year older at best, stopped you.

“why’re you alone?” you’re quiet. then he flashes you a smile (and even if he’s missing his front tooth, it’s sweet), so you gather your courage and speak up. “i just moved here.” the boy laughs. “i’ll be your friend then!”

and that’s what kuroo is - a friend. a great one, of course, but even since then he’s set his mind of taking care of you. you grew up like siblings: both pained at the loss of your mother, both around the same age, and luckily enough, your house was just in front of his. so it’s only natural that you guys are close - sure, kenma hangs out with you guys when he manages to leave the house - but the bond you have is special. it’s unbreakable. you had countless sleepovers, hangouts, even cuddles when you first got your period and were in too much pain to do anything. the line was always a bit blurry, but you never paid any mind to it. kuroo is like your brother, and you both joke about it sometimes - calling you imouto and him onii chan, you viewed your relationship as entirely platonic, familial at best.

on the other hand, kuroo became smitten with you from your first meeting, only discovering his feelings when you were thirteen and puberty hit: everything became a bit too awkward, and your regular sleepovers gradually stopped. at sixteen, kuroo had already two small relationships under his belt, all while chastising you when you spent a bit too much time with any guy friend - he’s not good for you, you deserve better… are all excuses kuroo came up with to prevent you from getting your heart broken. at nineteen, kuroo’s in the third year of high school, and is about to graduate. you’ve grown now: you’re taller, prettier, and your body is… different, to say the least. testuro feels awful about his thoughts, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say he woke up with countless hard ons for years on end, involuntarily upsetting his girlfriends who were just placeholders compared to you. but, kuroo keeps scolding you when you forget your lunch or your scarf: “niichan’s not gonna be around forever, kay? gotta learn to take care of yourself, hm?” and you just nod, letting him do his thing because he’s naturally flirty. right?

however, kuroo is demoted to second place when you meet him: 6’2, awfully muscular and sickeningly sweet, one too many “that score was for ya, pretty!”, and a bit dumb but with a big heart (and big bulge in his shorts) - bokuto kotaro. he doesn’t go to your school, unfortunately, but it’s close enough for him to be at your school’s gymnasium regularly for countless volleyball matches with kuroo’s team. he’s sweet, sure, a bit dense, but very nice nonetheless. when he sees you, he always runs up to you, big smile and all, asking about your day, sometimes sneaking in some flirting - “good day, right y/nnie? hehe, couldn’t wait to see ya today. ya look as pretty as i thought you’d be!”. you always blush at the implications, and gradually you fond yourself smiling a bit more and blushing a bit harder. you twirl your hair when he talks to you, bat your eyelashes, not too much, but enough to make bokuto’s head spin and cock leak.

kuroo notices - of course he does. he’s always looking at you, naturally worried about what you’re up to, who’re you talking to. his heart beats a little bit faster, pumping envy and jealousy right into his veins, only fueling the deeply rooted love he has for you. he’s fuming, and it translates into the field perfectly: his spikes are a bit too harsh, a bit less precise, ultimately ending up hitting his friends in the head (and he goes back to normal soon after, apologizing and saying he wasn’t as concentrated). today’s match ends in a tie, fortunately for you, who are rooting for both teams - your niichan’s and bokuto’s. as you busy yourself talking to kenma after the match (or, blabbering about how cool bokuto looked, how strong he is, how big his muscles are, all the while kenma does nothing but sigh), the team captains are both changing in the locker room.

and of course, they’re nineteen and immature, so locker room talk is inevitable - but today, there’s just the two of them, the rest of the teams had left early. bokuto’s the one who speaks up first, while he runs a towel over his drenched hair. “so, kuroo… y’r sis was all dolled up today, don’tcha think?” kuroo doesn’t correct his friend. “guess so. that’s just her school uniform, though. ya think that’s dolled up?” “c’mon, the skirt was lots shorter! she’s got great legs too.” bokuto giggles, the thought of your exposed legs going straight to the bulge in his shorts. kuroo doesn’t laugh: well, of course you looked stunning, but bokuto’s just so crude about it, he thinks. “yeah, she’s hot.” kuroo mutters, earning a whistle from bokuto. “damn, thought ya’d kill me for sayin’ that over your imouto. well, whatever, she’s an eye candy, and a real smart girl too. she’s definitely my type, bro!”. kuroo fakes a laugh. “yeah, maybe she’s into you too. maybe she likes himbos.” “huh? ya think?” kuroo sighs.

when they’re done, they find you all bundled up next to the gym entrance, dozing off. your knees are pushed up to your chest, and your legs rest around your legs. your lips are slowly parted and the soft wind is blowing your hair just right. kuroo’s in awe - you’ve always been pretty, to say the least, but some days he swears you were made for him to see, to worship. bokuto chuckles, as if hearing his best friend’s inner dialogue, and his gaze follows the curves and shadows of your body, finding itself stuck on your glossy lips. bokuto hesitates a second too long, and kuroo’s the first to reach out to you, kneeling next to where you’re sitting. his hand caresses your hair, gently, with the experience of someone who’s been taking care of you for 14 years now. his face hovers near yours, hand sneaking up to your shoulder. “princess, wake up. lemme take you home.”, he breathes out, voice soft and meant only for you to hear. you begin to stir, subconsciously moving your face dangerously close to his. “tetsu?” his breath hitches. “yeah, pretty? ya tired?” “mhm.” kuroo chuckles, and takes you into his arms, slowly petting you awake. your body is pressed snugly against his, smaller and softer, as if it was made exactly for him to hold. he’s quiet when he feels his cock straining against his pants, too preoccupied with lifting you up. once you’re standing up, you rub your eyes, trying to make the sleepiness go away - and bokuto feels like his heart’s melting. “y’re pretty cute, ain’tcha?” he smiles. you’re suddenly reminded of his presence, the interaction you just with nii- no, with kuroo, suddenly makes you feel even more embarrassed.

kuroo breaks the uncomfortable silence. “we’ve got to go home.” you want to protest, but maybe he’s right. he wants to take care of you. so you nod, and wave goodbye to bokuto, before walking over to your childhood friend. as you two walk to your house, you make small talk - the chemistry test you had today, which he tutored you for, his university plans, the match he’s had today. “can i tell you something?” you ask, soft smile on your face. “hm? yeah. what’s up, cutie?” you giggle at the nickname - it’s sweet, childish, and he’s always called you that. “i think ‘m getting a crush on bokuto.”

and unexpectedly, he laughs. “really? ya like kotaro? dunno if he’s good for you, princess.” you nod - the weird feeling you had about the tension between the two captains is now gone - and are quick to defend him. “huh? why not? he’s so tall ‘n he’s so sweet!” you’re now outside your front door. kuroo pats your head, messing up your hair, earning a huff of frustration from you. “whatever ya want, cutie.” and he leans closer to you. it’s not unusual: he’s always been touchy. his lips hover near yours, and you feel like time stops. then, he presses a peck near the corner of your mouth. your face’s beet red - he’s never kissed you like this before - and you stammer out some words. “h-huh? wh-what’s that for, tetsu?” he chuckles, before turning around, about to leave. “can’t let him take you away from me. had you first.”

you spend the night tossing and turning in your bed, unable to catch any sleep. you sigh, and grab your phone, scrolling through your texts and notifications - one of which catches your attention: a dm on instagram. you open it, and you’re met by bokuto’s profile. you blush, feet kicking under the covers, and hurry to reply.

bokuto.taro1: hey hey pretty girl, just wanted to say you looked very pretty today. let me take ya out, yeah? let me show ya how serious i am about you.

your legs squeeze together - even his texting is attractive.

y/nniee: hi!! thank uu :) id love that actually

bokuto.taro1: ofc you do cutie. gotta ask permission to your nii-chan first, tho.

your breath hitches. right, kuroo. if he gave you a kiss just because you mentioned liking bokuto, you don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out he wants to take you out. your train of thought is interrupted by another ping from your phone.

bokuto.taro1: but seriously, baby, you’re so pretty. been thinking about you for a while now.. your skirts are gonna kill me one day.

bokuto.taro1: it’s late. better go to sleep, hm? before your nii nii finds out you’ve been texting me all night.

the date with bokuto went well. a movie theater date, watching the new horror movie you’ve seen all over your social media. he held your hand, bought you popcorn, and left you at your doorstep at 11 pm sharp. when he was about to leave, you spoke up. “w-wait.” “hm? what is it?” he turns around, curious. you walk over to him, and you cup his cheek. you pull him closer, and closer, until you’re both so close you’re breathing the same air. “want me to kiss ya?” you nod. he gets impossibly closer to you, and presses his lips on your jawline. “mhm, ya sure? tetsu’s gonna kill me.” his lips keep moving, now nibbling on your ear. you whimper. “please, kotaro? jus�� one kiss?” he giggles against your ear lobe, and brings his face back to yours, softly locking you in a soft, chaste kiss. your lips are soft, glossy, untouched, but it’s not enough for either of you.

“can’t do anythin’ more, princess. you don’t know what i’d do to ya right now, all pretty and shit. but your nii chan wants to be careful, you got it? ‘m gonna take great care of you if you let us.”

“n-nii chan?” “yeah, baby.” bokuto presses his lower body against yours, painfully hard cock poking your tummy. you whimper: it’s even bigger than what you imagined. bokuto can only laugh - you’re so tiny compared to him. “you feel it? that’s how hard- fuck - you make me. every day. have me tuggin’ at my cock for hours, can’t go down if i’m thinking about you, baby girl. you want it?” you nod, eyes glossy and lips parted, desperate to feel his bulge closer. “then ya’ve got to let your nii nii watch when i fuck you, alright? he wants to see his imouto get taken care of.” your heart stops - what? everything about this makes your poor head spin: what does kuroo have to do with this? well, you know he’s overprotective, but never this much. and there’s a little part of you that’s screaming at the creepiness of this situation. your niichan? your… brother? he wants to fuck you? well, in his defense, you’re not actual siblings, but you’ve always been so close - your stomach does a flip at the realization that each time you’d called him niichan, he had probably gotten off on it. you’re brought back to reality when bokuto presses another peck on your forehead, sweet, infantilizing, further dumbing you down to a poor, helpless little girl. “baby - whaddaya think? hm? we’re gonna take care of ya.” and you’re so ashamed of yourself when you nod in agreement.

so here you are - at home, sprawled on your soft mattress, as you wait for kuroo to come over. when bokuto called him, you’re sure you’ve heard a breathy laugh - dark, sinister, but you’re not too sure: even if this is a bit creepy, kuroo’s a good guy, right? your niichan who won’t let anything bad happen to you. bokuto senses your worries, hushing and shushing you by straddling your body. his lips press against yours, but it’s messier, wetter, than last time: they move with experience on top of yours, and as soon as you part your mouth slightly, he stuffs it with his fat tongue, exploring your hole. the room’s filled with your “ah- nghn… oh! a-ah…”s, and bokuto’s “quiet, girlie, lemme kiss ya a bit more…” as he sucks on your tongue. the kiss feels like it’s out of a porn comic - the ones you found on twitter, the ones you spent endless nights reading while rubbing desperately your clit. your tongues dance together, messy and desperately dirty, but it has you going dumb in seconds.

then, you hear a whistle coming out of your door. kuroo’s standing there, arms crossed as he watches bokuto’s much bigger body engulf yours. he has a big grin on his face - probably because of the sweet sounds you’re letting out, or because you look so cute with a much bigger man kissing you stupid. “bo, c’mon, let y/nnie breathe. right, cutie? he kissed you stupid already?” he breathes, getting closer to your bed. you’re tucked into the mattress, on top of your pink, girly sheets, hiding your trembling body behind your plushies (most of which were a gift from kuroo). kuroo sits on your bed, hand resting on your thigh, while bokuto leans back to take in your disheveled look - messy hair, smudged makeup, swollen lips. “tetsu…” you whimper, seeking comfort in someone you known so well. “see, bo? told you she needs to be taken care of.” kuroo turns to bokuto, his cheshire grin never faltering. bokuto laughs, then points at you with his head, bringing his friend’s attention back to you. “oh, princess”, kuroo coos, “poor thing. want me to take care of you?” you nod. the ache in your now drenched panties is unbearable, making your head spin and eyes tear up: you need it to stop, to go away - your hypersensitivity is so cute. so endearing, innocent.

just like the sweet, sugary kisses kuroo presses on your cheeks as bokuto begins to massage your shoulders. “hey, cutie”, he brings your attention back to him. “lemme undress you, hm? don’t hafta do anythin’, sweet girl, i’ll take care of ya.” “hm, ngh… y-yes plea-ah-se!” and he gets to work. he leaves you in your underwear - a baby pink cotton set, with bows and white details. so cute. bokuto can’t enjoy the show as much as he’d like to, though, because kuroo’s hand flows to one of your breasts, cupping the soft flesh he’s dreamed of for ages. you stifle your moans: the feeling is so foreign and weird, but it’s so good. “angel,” tetsuro speaks against your ear, voice sending electricity throughout your body, “always dreamt about this. about your pretty body.” his thumb moves to your covered nipple, already hard and pressed snugly against the fabric of your bra. “n-nii chan…” kuroo feels his cock strain - oh, you pervert. you nasty, dirty girl, calling him big bro when he’s rubbing your tits sore. but, he can’t scare you away. he wants to hear you keep calling him that, to show bokuto your bond is stronger than any other you’ll ever have.

so kuroo’s quiet. “what is it, imouto?”

the name makes your neglected cunny twitch. but everything is feels so good, four hands touching and pawing at you, two hot men on your bed kissing you stupid. so you keep going - puffing up your lips. “wanna kiss. please.” your gaze flickers between bokuto and kuroo, but eventually settling on the latter. kotaro can wait, right? but oh, kissing your tetsu feels so wrong. unfortunately for you, he doesn’t hesitate, locking your lips together. it’s messy, raw, and so unbearably wrong, but it makes your pussy pulse a bit more, and it almost calms down the anxiety pooling into your stomach. it’s your tetsu, your niichan - yes, it’s wrong, but he knows you best, no? that’s why he’s here.

bokuto’s jealous - why is he here if you’re gonna kiss your brother all night? so he acts. he, not without a struggle, unhooks your bra, letting your pretty tits fall exposed. you whimper, but it goes unnoticed as bokuto latches his mouth on your other nipple, sucking harshly the warm flesh. your head spins, and you feel like fainting when kuroo mimics his friend. they lick, bite, mark your tits, leaving them all swollen and bruised. your mouth feels empty, and you tentatively reach over to the two men. “ca-ahn, can you… nghm, guys k-kiss me more? ‘m achin’ do-down there…” oh. they were both so intent on competing with each other, they stopped coddling their sweet girl. kuroo goes back to kissing you, pulling you into his lap as you face bokuto. the former’s cock is pressed against the swell of your ass, and the latter is kissing your body, going lower and lower until he presses a final, wet kiss on your panty clad pussy.

“bo, take em off. she soiled her panties anyway.” kuroo orders, voice slightly muffled because he just won’t stop kissing you. bokuto does just that - he pecks your cunny two more times, then rolls down your drenched underwear, leaving your pretty pussy bare. the two men feel their cocks pulsing: the sight of your cunt being almost too much for them to handle. it’s puffy, wet, but twitching and they can see your little clit peeking from your squishy folds. tetsuro squeezes your tits, and speaks up. “princess - y’want a cock in there? want us to fuck you?” how can he be so crude about this? but your pretty cunny is screaming at you to stuff her, to make her feel so full, so you whimper out an answer. “mh-mhm tetsu… pl-please…mhgn.. o-one of you…” bokuto smiles and pets your head, his much bigger hand messing up your hair. “lemme do it - please? lemme ruin your pretty cunny, baby, fuck, she looks so pretty. ‘m gonna stuff her nice ‘n well, princess, jus’ how you wanna.” kuroo let’s out a dry laugh. “what’s gotten you so worked up, bo? her pussy that pretty?” kuroo jolts you into his lap, positioning your jerking cunt right on top of his clothed, painfully hard cock, earning a loud moan from you. he softens when you whimper and moan - you’re too fucked out, too dumb already, so you need to be fucked by someone’s who’s careful, caring. “y/nnie.”

his voice is grounding, strict, something you’ve heard all your life. your nii-chan, your tetsuro. he is a comforting presence throughout all of this - so you nod. “please-ahse, nii-channgh… oh!” “please what, princess? want me to be the one to fuck your angelcunt first?” “mhm! please!” bokuto sighs - should’ve known the pretty girl he’s liked for a few months now had a brother complex. kuroo turns you around, so that you’re facing him. he undoes his zipper, letting his cock spring free from the tightness of his boxers. it’s thick, with a stupidly red, fat tip that’s leaking so much precum. your mouth waters at the sight - your nii chan’s dick rests above your cunny, and it looks so big. then, you see another pair of hands sneak from behind, squeezing your waist, your hips, and resting near your crotch. bokuto’s hard, muscular chest is pressed against your back, head resting on your shoulder, and his thumb inches closer and closer to your clit. “kuroo, y’re gonna stick your dick in her without rubbin’ her clit? just for a bit, i-i’ll do that.” kuroo’s taken aback - he was so focused on making you his, on marking you before anyone else, that he forgot about easing your nerves. you throw your head back as bokuto’s fingers slip inside your hole, thumb drawing hearts on your clit, while his other hand pinches and rubs your nipple. “ta-ah, taro! nghn… ah- uh - ‘m g-gonna…!” your cry out.

his attack on your cunt is rough, hypocritically so when he just chastised kuroo for not taking care of you. “ya can do it, puppy, sing more for me mkay? wanna hear ya scream for me while i cuddle yer cunt. she’s so fuckin’ tight, holy shit. she’s loud too, hear that, y/nnie?”the squelching noises of your sopping pussy are so embarrassing, and the way he talks about it is so dirty - but it makes your slimy walls flutter around his fingers even tighter. “da-hmph!” “what’s that, bunny? what’re ya trying to call me, huh?” “da-ah… daddy…”

oh, fuck. bokuto presses his thumb harder on your clit, making you scream as you cum for the first time that night. kuroo’s cock twitches as he seethes - so jealous of the sweet moment between you and his friend. he can’t let you think about bokuto, no, he needs to bring you back to him - so he nudges his tip against your hole, swatting away the hands of the other man, uncaring of your pleas and cries. his tip’s big - and kuroo knows that making you ride him will hurt. but all the better for him, he’s gonna shape your insides to fit his cock only.

“angel.” you sniffle. “angel, ‘m gonna put it in, kay? focus on me.” “nii-chan…” “yeah, fuck. just like that, pretty, keep callin’ me - wanna hear you. ‘m gonna teach you how to sit on cock, yeah?” you nod. kuroo kisses you as he slips it in, popping your cherry. it’s painful, yes, but it’s so big, you’re so full - you’re already going dumb on your nii chan’s cock. kuroo positions your limp body so that you’re fully impaled by his length, fully sitting on it. “you’ve gotta bounce on it, bunny, make your nii chan cum.” you cry, fat tears streaming down your cheeks, but you do that regardless - because you want your kuroo nii to feel good. when he cums, he does it in you, cock kissing your cervix stupid, letting his fluids stain your cunny. you cream around him soon after, crying out for your nii chan.

then, kuroo reluctantly slips out of you. there’s a small pause, then you’re stuffed again. only this time, it’s bokuto’s cock that’s seeking your tight heat. he slipped into you from behind, and he presses you down on the bed - face down, ass up. “didn’t wanna be mean, baby. jus’ needed your pussy. so, so bad - forgive me, yeah?” “‘s fi-fine, taro, feels so - fuck! so g-good!” your voice is muffled, face smothered in blankets and plushies. as bokuto slams his cock in and out of you, you’re hugging one of the teddy bears - this one specifically was a gift from kuroo for your finals day last year. it makes you all warm and fuzzy, subconsciously clenching your cunt even tighter around his friend’s cock. kuroo notices - and he thinks you’re so cute, all needy for him even when you have another dick in you.

so he takes his cock in his hand again, and turns your head around: his tip kisses your lips, prodding at your mouth. “y/nnie… wanna suck here for a bit? make you feel all better.” and you hazily do so. as bokuto plows into you, you take kuroo’s dick in your mouth, slowly working your way down his shaft. you kiss his tip, lick it, suck on it to get used to the taste; it’s comforting, grounding, making you don’t feel as anxious as you’d be while having your first time. kotaro caresses your head as you start bobbing it up and down tetsuro’s length. “good fuckin’ girl - so sweet for us. such an angel, right kuroo?” “mh? yeah. makes me wanna do this again- fuck, y/nnie, i’m going to cum… don’t have to swallow, kay? you’re doing so good for nii chan.” tears pool in your eyes, both from the reassurance and the knot in your stomach snapping - you cum around kotaro’s cock, just as kuroo’s member slips out of your mouth and his cum splatters on your giggling tits and lips. bokuto cums soon later, dick going flaccid inside of your cunt.

you collapse on the bed, exhausted.

you’re awoken by the feeling of soft fabric on your skin - someone’s cleaning up your body. you pry one eye open, and both boys are still here. before you can say anything, bokuto speaks. “you were so good for us, sweetheart. thank you for letting us fuck you, yeah?” you blush - suddenly hyper aware of the situation you were just in. you look over at kuroo, who’s the one cleaning up your used pussy. “tetsu?” “yeah, baby? he’s right - such an angel.”

once they’re done cleaning you up, you squirm back into your blankets, tired. kuroo’s hand caresses your head, and bokuto’s holding your hand. you feel so safe, taken care of. “can you guys sleep here tonight?”

bokuto knows deep down that he can’t compete with kuroo. he loves you, he really does, but there’s just something so fucked up about your bond - and he feels bad for you. how you’re so dependent on kuroo for everything. how you’re such a fragile, pathetic girl enabled by the one you trust the most. you’re beyond fixing - he noticed how you clenched when you called him your big bro, how you went for his cock with no hesitation, how you let him fuck you after you went on a date with another guy. maybe it’s not that bad. you’re not actually related, right? it’s just a pet name, maybe that’s what childhood friends do. sure, that must be it.

kuroo notices. of course he does. and he’s got everything where he wants it to be. you sleeping on his chest (well, your hand is holding kotaro’s, but it could he worse), and a tissue with your mixed fluids thrown in the bin right next to the bed as proof of your actions just a few hours ago. but, he can’t lie: he feels somewhat guilty, maybe subconsciously so, for taking advantage of you. he knows his friend’s awake, and you’re in such a deep sleep, you probably won’t stir even if they chat for a bit.

“bo?” “yeah?” “i’m not gonna lie to you. i really don’t want you guys to go out together.” “yeah, figured as much - bokuto laughs - but you’re still my best friend and i still like her. even if you’re a creep for calling her sis when you’re fucking her, man.” there’s no malice in the air - just plain boy rivalry. kuroo replies after a few seconds. “she still lost her virginity to her nii chan. guess i’m not the only weirdo here. but still, dude, ‘m not gonna let her go so easily.”

bokuto sighs - he knows you’ll always run back to your big bro. that doesn’t stop him from trying. when you’ll wake up, he’ll still try his best to score another date with you. and kuroo will be there to remind you that he’s the only good guy for you - until you’ll be under him again while you cry for your nii chan to fuck you harder. you’re not sane in the head, but kuroo doesn’t mind. he’s here to make you feel better.

©️ ryuucam 2025.

[softfem-dom]

wedding ring

origins!husban!logan x origins!wade x wife!reader

a/n : I don't know what came over me to write this, I have no excuse I'm just horny.

wc : 3k

NSFW , PORN WITH (LITTLE) PLOT , WADE IS A HORNY SHIT , MOMMY & DADDY KINK , GENERAL WADE™ BEHAVIOUR sub!origins!wade wilson . dom!origins!logan . dom!reader

synopsis : wade has always been a kinky little shit, it seems that title is well-deserved when he starts to fantasize about squeezing himself into a married couple old enough to be his parents.

If someone in the team were to ask Wade why he looked as if he hadn't slept in a decade, he'd say he was up practising his katana skills.

When in reality, he had spent the whole night groaning and moaning against his pillow while rubbing himself raw to the thought of you and Logan.

What was so special about you two, you may ask? You were married and were old enough to be his parents.

It was absolutely not his fault. You two had no right to come into the X-Team, looking so fucking hot and expect him not to get hard.

You couldn't just walk around the place with Logan's strong arm around your waist and expect him not to stare. You couldn't just hum in acknolovedgment everytime Logan leant into your ear to rumble something that the merc couldn't quite catch and expect him not to grow desperate.

He was a walking mess. Day and night his thoughts were consumed by you and Logan, Logan and you, and what you could do to him. He couldn't help it, he'd blame the undiagnosed ADHD anyday for titty-flashing him with so many dirty scenarios anytime you walked past.

,,

Logan and you had been through a lot of shit togheter.

You had met sometime between the 1880's and the 1900's, both mutants and escaping from someone who was trying to do you harm. Both with the weight of taken lives over your shoulders, both with spilled blood on your hands. Both with the promise of living far too long.

And, cliche-y enough, you both had fallen in love. After uniting forces as acquintances, then growing as close as long-life friends, and then falling into the claws of love, you two had gotten married.

Happyly married, always attached to the hip, gold wedding wands on your ring fingers. Always watching out for the other.

And when William Stryker offered you both a place in a 'special opperations' team called X-Team, you both agreed —happy to help a cause—.

What you didn't expect, though, was Wade Wilson turning into another shit you had to go through togheter.

The mercenary seemed to never know when to shut his mouth, or how to read social cues, he just simply had a mouth too big for his own good. Hence why the nickname merc with a mouth was born amidst the members of the team.

He was a young man in his 20's, a cocky asshole and a total flirt that talked big game. He liked to show off during missions, pulling stunts, to impress Logan or you was another question that didn't have an answer yet.

You and your husband just knew the kid seemed to have the hots for one of you. Which made Logan boil with possesiveness because you were his damn wife, his and his only —possesiveness that in turn only made Wade all the more horny.

It wasn't until today's mission that you realized that the mercenary didn't have the hots for just one of you, but for both.

After trying to break in a building to stop some drug dealers, the team had split up and —ironically enough— left you three to flee from more guards than you could fight. And now, ironically enough again, you three were hidding in a really small supply closet.

You hadn't intended for it to end up this way, but your husband was with his broad back against the wall and with a pupil-blown Wade completely sandwiched between you two.

Wade was totally trying to keep his cool, desperately keeping up his usual cocky fachade, but his gut felt so damn coiled at having his ass pressed against Logan's crotch and his chest in level with yours.

"How did they notice us?!?" you asked your husband in a low breath, completely ignoring the merc between you.

Logan growled slightly, his nose twitching when a strangely strong scent wafted into his nostrils, shaking his head slightly as he tried to peek out from the small gap in the door. "dunno, doll, but I guess they didn't see us come here"

As you kept talking with your husband in hushed breaths, Wade was starting to feel his brain turning to damn mush as he was trapped between you two. He couldn't help it, your body warmth was sweeping into his bones from back and front —melting him—.

And then, suddenly he heard your voices stopping. Looking up with his half-glassy eyes, he was met by a quirked eyebrow and a deep scowl from Logan.

"are you damn horny right now, mouth?" Logan pretty much growled. His voice rumbling in his chest as he looked down at the young man between you two.

Wade blinked, realizing he had been so aroused —and locked up in his dirty fantasies— that he had pretty much started to leak in his pants.

"ohw, c'mon, what'd you expect?" the merc breathed out under your questioning gaze. "I've got my hot ass against someone's big dick and my face is smushed against this massive titties and jesus fucking christ—"

His words died down in a choked way when Logan's hand flied up to his throath, wrapping around it without issue —damn big hands the Canadian had— and squeezing. Choking a wheezed noise out of his mouth.

"shut your damn mouth if ya wanna keep your throath, bub" Logan growled in the merc's ear, his voice almost like the roar of a lion with how much red he was seeing.

You were just staring at the way Wade's eyes seemed to roll into the back of his head, thighs twitching before shamelessly parting —as if he wanted someone's hand between them—. The mercenary seemed to really be horny for you two.

"really, Wade?" you purred, voice low, as you stared at the young man —letting your husband do the job of shutting him up. "going after a married couple like this? didn't think you'd fall that low.."

Wade struggled to breathe through his nose with Logan's tight grip around his throath, but he spoke nonetheless. "aughn— you two are fucking god- relax the grip old man literally bisexual culture-"

His gasped words only made the growl bubbling up in Logan's throath grow louder. You saw the veins in your husband's arm bulging as he squeezed around Wade's throath again, watching the way the merc choked on his spit —saliva slobbering down the corner of his lips.

You reached out your own hand and placed it atop of Logan's, as if methaporically holding your husband's hand while he choked Wade.

"fucking god you two are really feeding my mommy and daddy issues right now y'kno-oh-oww—"

Wade's spech got cut off my another series of squeezes around his throath, making the mercenary cough and choke on his spit as his head fell forwards against your chest.

"watch your damn mouth, mouth"

"ngh-ah- unluckily for you I've got a thing for being put in my place by dominant, sexy, grown-ups. Big ones with huge—"

His voice died in his own throath when two, huge and thick, fingers were proding at his mouth. Sneaking past his lips and stuffing him full, his eyes rolled back, knees almost buckling underneath him when the meaty taste of sweat invaded his mouth.

"shut it, bub"

"hmn-nhgh"

"you managed to shut him up" you low whistled at your husband, impressed by how quickly and efficiently the merc had shut up. Now busy with nibbling at the fingers inside of his mouth.

"easy peasy" Logan huffed with a slight roll of his eyes. "don't know how long it'll last, though, just look at how damn much the kid's leaking"

Wade whined around Logan's fingers at the way you two were speaking as if he wasn't there, thighs trying to close when he felt your eyes going down and settling on the obvious tent in his pants —and the wet spot.

"so horny" you hummed, more to yourself than anything, before looking back at his face. "what does this mean, baby?" you purred as you pointed to the gold ring on your finger with a neutral look on your face —as if he wasn't coming undone before your eyes. "I don't think you're that dumb yet. C'mon, what does this, right here, mean, Wade?"

Wade struggled to swallow the spit pooling in his mouth around Logan's fingers, body almost tumbling forward when the Canadian ripped his fingers off of his mouth so suddenly.

"I- aughn- I—" he stumbled over his words, swallowing again, as his hazy eyes looked up at you. "that's a daddy and mommy ring" he wheezed out, a little "ah-ah!" escaping his lips when Logan grabbed his hair from the back —forcing him to behave—. "means- angh means that you're married. And old enough to be my grand-parents-"

"That's right, bub" Logan growled, leaning in close to whisper in Wade's ear. "We're a married couple and you're nothing but a pest."

"now, now, darling" you hummed lovingly as you looked at your husband, who was still grabbing Wade by his hair. "don't be so mean.. It turns him on"

That last was a low drawl, before your hand was cuping Wade's cheek and making sure the cold metal of the gold wedding ring you wore was against the merc's skin. "We've lived through wars, honey, you're a literal baby compared to us" you added, voice low and degradatory.

Wade shuddered as the cold metal of your wedding ring pressed against his skin, his eyes looking up at you with a mixture of desire and submission.

"I'm a- nnnng baby" he repeated, almost breathless. "Logan and you are old. So old."

Logan leaned in closer, his hand still clamped around Wade's hair. "Old enough to be your parents" he repeated, his voice dark and gravely. His teeth almost gracing Wade's ear. "Old enough that you shouldn't be interested in us, bub."

"Please, I- I- ahhhhnn I promise I'm good, I promise I'm good, I- I can be good."

It was funny, really, to see such a cocky and show-off of a man being this needy and whiny between you two. But what could you say, it was the Howlett effect.

You slowly slipped your gold wedding band out of your ring finger, right infront of Wade's eyes —watching the way he almost busted on the spot just from the sight alone—.

"this is what'chu want, ain't it honey?" you teased the mercenary trembling and whining between you. "you want this pretty ring on your finger too, don't ya? you wanna be the throphy toy to a hot, married couple old enough to be your parents, don't you, sweetheart?"

You held the wedding ring infront of Wade's face as one of your hands started to rub his arm —slowly going down to his hand—. Wade was shaking, he didn't even know how he hadn't cum untouched yet with how tight and hot his gut felt. All of his muscles coiled.

Wade looked like he was about two seconds away from spontaneously combusting right there in the small supply closet.

"Please" he breathed out, his voice strained and his eyes fixed on the ring in your hand. "Please, I- I want to be- nngah, I want it. I- I'll be good, I- aaahhhnn"

"Are you?" Logan asked, using the grip on Wade's hip to pull him closer against him. "Are you going to behave for us?"

After a series of jerky and rapid nods coming from the drooling mercenary trembling between you, "good fucking boy, there you go" your voice was low and syrupy, as you grabbed Wade's twitching hand and slowly —almost sensually— slipped the cold golden wand on his finger.

It looked as if he was going to combust just from having the ring on his finger, from the implications of having a wedding ring from a married couple on his finger.

Maybe you'd find an explanation for the creamy wet spot between Wade's legs and the way he was wearing your wedding ring when you meet the team in a few minutes. Or maybe you won't, who knows.

[stzrgirl4norris]

My Kink Is Karma

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After a turbulent break up, Max left you all alone, dealing with the pain from his poisonous words. He was thriving, having the time of his life, and you were determined to see his downfall.

Word count: 9k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don't do that), degradation, Mean!Max, Mean! Reader, they are both toxic to each other, revenge sex, hate sex. All the good stuff

I'm on my Max kick later, specially since the last race. Hope you guys can enjoy my freak with me!!

Three months, twenty eight days since he left.

Actually, since you left. No, even worse, since you were kicked out of his stupid cubicle of an apartment. Why is every goddamn apartment in Monaco so small either way? It's like millionaires have a kink for minimalism or something. There were still a couple of his t-shirts hanging around, shoved down the back of a drawer you never opened. You contemplated burning them down, one by one, or selling them on e-bay, you would probably make a lot of money with it. However, the anger was still boiling hot in your bones, opened. You contemplated burning them down, one by one, or selling them on e-bay, you would probably make a lot of money with it. However, the anger was still boiling hot in your bones, picking up anything with his scent on it would cause world war three, and you didn't want that.

Not because you don't hate him, you do, wholeheartedly, but you would rather see the universe handle it, slowly, sadistically, because you always believed in karma, plus, he didn't deserve any type of reaction from you.

However, almost four months is a whole lot of time of waiting for Max Verstappen to get something bad coming his way. Somehow, that blue eyed man is always on top. McLaren had the fastest car and he was still dominating, pole position, podiums, even fucking won a race against all odds. Max Verstappen not only defied your beliefs around love, but your beliefs in general. He tested your faith. Because in this wednesday afternoon, sitting on your plane sit, next to a crying baby and an exhausted mother, you were wondering if the universe gave a flying damn about how much that man hurt you. Gods Are you listening over there? He left me with no direction, no sense of belonging, stole my pride, joy and clothes. I was left empty. So why the fuck is he the one thriving?

That's why you decided to make matters with your own hands. Karma isn't real? No problem. You would create karma and shove it down his throat. Max Verstappen is not going to hell when he dies? Then, you will make sure he lives through hell while you are around. And the plan starts with a suitcase and an economic class ticket to Bahrain.

The city was scalding. The complete opposite of an early spring in Monaco. Too many people, a legion of tourists who were there for the Grand Prix. You looked around, analyzing the environment, but he was everywhere. In t-shirts, flags, posters, dolls. "The flying dutchman", "The Dutch Lion". That was the worst one. A lion? That motherfucker was just as coward as a toddler being confronted by their angry parent.

Hey. Just landed. Where was the place / was supposed to wait for the driver?

Max: Gate seven. He's already there.

You don't answer. He doesn't deserve an answer.

On the other hand, if the plan was going to work perfectly, you needed him to believe you were desperate for him. Because Max has an ego, he craves the attention. It's Machiavellian, but any current pain is worth the final result. What even is a single text message compared to seeing Max Verstappen’s downfall live and in bright colors?

You walked towards gate seven. Sure enough, the man was there, holding a little white plank with your surname written on it. As if it was needed, since to his left, there he was, wearing his stupia red bull cap, white t-shirt and dark blue jeans.

Classic Max. You weren't taken by surprise, at the end of the day, Verstappen was as predictable as playing chess with a child, at least to you. You knew he was going to be there, just to torment you, prove, somehow, that he never left, his scent, manners, soul, were all surrounding you, everyday since that rainy tuesday when all hell broke loose.

As you approached both men with a confidence acquired from whatever cheap wine they offered on the flight, you could swore you saw a glimpse of relief in his arctic blue eyes.

Max was relieved. Seeing you, full shape, materialized in front of him like a dying man's last vision, as beautiful as ever, maybe even more, left him with a feeling of immense relief. Because ever since the break up, he never saw or spoke to you.

He didn't even understand how the hell that was possible, considering Monaco was just a big gated commune. He had no idea, however, that for those three months you barely left your bed, purposefully avoiding him. The funny thing is, Max could've swore on his career that he saw a different type of glimmer surrounding you, because as you gave him a shy kiss on the cheek, shivers went down his neck, all the way though his spine. There was uncertainty in his mind if, at that moment, you were a salvation from heaven or his worst nightmare.

"I didn't actually think you would come?" He couldn't control the excitement in his voice. To you? Pathetic.

"You know Bahrain has always been my favorite circuit." Lies. "Plus, I really wanted to talk." More lies. Oh, weren't you just the best pretty little liar?

'I agree"

Max had no idea of what you planned. With all the innocence of a little boy in love, who fucked up, he believed that you wanted to try again, that you were able to give him another chance. If for three months you were crying underneath the shower steam, he was begging via text messages, voicemails, red roses and handwritten notes to talk to you and sort things out. In his mind, his words were bad, a disaster. "Your career isn't important, you can't keep crying over this shit." Actually, the words were bad, but the context was even worse. To be fair, you were crying over a minor problem, a grain of sand in the midst of long beach, still, that was the result of a build-up that lasted weeks, days having to suffer countless abuse in your job, burnout was imminent. Haven't you been breaking down, releasing every tension from the stress of your career, you could have actually forgiven him. In contrast, the coldness and nonchalant in his voice when saying "your career isn't important" was what actually got to you. "So, I can't cry over my boss raging at me from mistakes he made, but you can cry whenever your stupid little car isn't 0.5 seconds faster than another car? Why? Because being a Formula 1 racer is the only job that matters? Huh, Max?"

That whole argument spiraled to a rabbit hole of pointing fingers and repressed emotions. Deep down, you knew you hated your job, you wanted to leave every time you stepped a foot in that building, but Max didn't need to know that. And he had no right assuming that it wasn't important.

Arriving at his hotel, the boy next to you handled a room key. 405.

"It's right next to mine"

You gave him a look, the one that said "well, obviously." Another predictable move. God, if any other driver paid enough attention to him, you were convinced he wouldn't be called Mad Max at all, because, in reality, Verstappen was as clear as a crystal glass.

The whole way up to the room, Max was a gentleman, carrying bags, hands on your lower back, guiding the way, walking in front. Just like you never stopped being his girlfriend. Maybe, in his mind, you never did.

The room was brightened with yellow lights, contrasting to the cold of the atmosphere between both ex-lovers. Even though you were trying your best to not give anything away, Max wasn't stupid, he could read you with eyes closed, he knew there was an unsettledness in your movements, he just couldn't point exactly why or what is going on.

"Do you want me to leave? Or do you just want to get it out of the way?" Max didn't quite know what he meant with "it", whatever it was, it has been filling his lungs with deep anxiety. And you knew he was suffering. For a man who was used to get anything he wanted, whenever he wanted, being completely lost in the matters of the heart, hurt his pride and gave him tremendous affliction.

"I was hoping we could catch a nice dinner, properly talk with some good food and wine. What do you say?" The words came off of your tongue spontaneously, as if you didn't rehearse them 300 hundred times during that 11 hour flight.

"Sure, yeah, fine. Even better with people around... That way you won't have the courage to kill me." You could hear the tension in his words when he joked, and he could hear the mockery in your chuckle just as well.

"Pick me up at eight?"

The fact that you made no comment around his stupid joke bothered him to his core. Which is the reason he just nodded and left the room without saying anything else. Just as soon as that door closed, you rushed to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet. You couldn't say what the fuck you were feeling, nausea, pain, anxiety, shame, guilt, rage. You should just open the door, go to his room, throw things around, break glasses, throw his suitcase on the hotel pool, tell the press he is leaving red bull and get on a plan, never look back. Having to wait for revenge to be served cold is what drives everyone insane, and no one talks about that.

Countless of hours later, after two long crying sessions, and screaming, and burning pages of your journal, you were ready. Dressed up casually. You wouldn't give him too much, because you knew he was expecting to show up as beautiful as ever, Lady Di in her revenge dress, so the fact that you were just dressed as his Y/N, raw, honest beauty, broke his heart. Because when he opened the door to your room, he was taken by your perfume and your pure self, just like he did for three years every time he came home from a race weekend and you were waiting for him on the couch.

"Come on, Max, you don't need to give this look." You were surprised by how effective flirting was in maskaring hate.

"What look?"

"Like I'm your long lost childhood love you encountered 20 years later." He shook his head, slightly.

"You're something like that."

Something like that. What the fuck did he mean?

"We should go." You said a little bit more desperate than you hoped. Maybe due to the fact that you were dying to leave. "Lead the way."

*

God. Wasn't middle eastern food the key to all your problems? Maybe if the scent of blended spices and dates filled your nostrils before, there would be no reason for any of this.

For the past couple of hours, you were focused on trying to enjoy the delights Sakhir had to offer.

Notice the word trying. Because with Max Verstappen looking like a god sent angel in front of you, no amount of cloves and cinnamon would be able to erase the scent of wanting that was emanating from him.

Max was paying extra attention to you. Every time you looked excited about whatever you were tasting, he could catch a proper breath. However, one look into your eyes later and he has filled with thousands of questions in his head.

"So, what is the strategy for this weekend?"

"Do you actually want to talk about my racing strategies for the weekend?" Yes. You did. How were you supposed to ruin his life if you had no clue what was going on with the only thing that mattered to him. "You said you wanted to talk, Y/ N."

"We are talking." He raised his eyebrow. You sighed, stomach twisting in ten thousand knots.

"Fine..."

Before you could select which carefully constructed phrase you compartmentalized for this very moment, Max, with his usual quickness, took the upfront.

"Please, come back to me."

It's not that you weren't expecting that he would say something like this, you just weren't expecting how much your internal organs would fire up as a response. In that particular moment, you could swore you forgot all of the lines of the plan you spent one month obsessing over. He broke your character, for just a slight of a second, a fraction.

"You really hurt me." For the first time in this whole entire trip, you were being honest.

"I know. I am truly deeply sorry. I fucked up."

You just stared. Contemplating if you were going to let him talk a little more. The dark twisted part of your brain was enjoying seeing him act as pathetic as you once did for him. That same side of your brain was already collecting ideas. Screw that one month evil plan, Max was giving everything you need to do even more damage than you anticipated.

"Let me show you how much I regret it. Let me make it up to you." The phrase was constructed as if he was asking for permission, but both of you knew, deep down, that he wasn't backing up any soon.

"These past few months were hell to me, Max."

The words were true, but there was no emotion in your voice to actually reflect the pain you went through. Max had no idea. He would never guess.

It seemed to him that you were giving something, but a weird feeling in his gut was sparking a doubt that you were hiding something.

"I will fix this up."

His legs under the table were shaking like the first time he stepped out of a Formula 1 car. Max was speaking as he was walking barefoot on shattered glass. There is no way for you to fix this up. Only me. You wanted to answer. You couldn't.

"Are you excited for the race?"

The deviation of the subject showed Max you were uncomfortable, which is why he decided that was enough of pushing. He didn't know there was a strategy underneath your tongue.

"Are you?" He fired back, letting himself taste a bit of the wine that you chose. It was bitter, dry, unlike the sweet rosés you'd usually go for.

"Thrilled." Your lips curled into a smirk stained with maroon liquid. Something shifted in the tone of your words. It was malicious, Max could sense it, but he was a man after all, guile and sexiness go hand-in-hand, specially coming from a girl holding a glass of wine.

ready to head back, whenever you want to go."

"Are we not going to order dessert?"

Nope. He wanted to leave. Matter of fact, as soon as possible. He wanted to take you to his room, or your room, whichever one is closest to the elevator door, and peel off every lying secret you were hiding behind your sore, tired eyes.

"Do you want dessert?"

You looked at his eyes, then his lips, then his neck, back at his eyes. Licked your lips, the bitterness of the wine reminding you of pure sex.

"Maybe not from here."

You knew you had control over him by the way he looked at you, like a puppy begging for food. Max didn't even try to hide how much he was longing to just touch you in any way, shape, or form. God, men were so easy.

A few formalities and street lights later, you were back to the golden architecture of the place you were staying. It wasn't your first time in the country, but it was your first time in this hotel, hadn't it been the circumstances of your visit, you could have actually enjoyed the experience.

The elevator door shut, fourth floor was a short ride. Helped to ease the tension. Not too much, but just enough.

"I can't find the key to my room."

Max knew it was inside your purse, you knew it too, obviously. There was just no reason to bother looking it up.

"Hm. Thankfully, I got you." He held the white car between his fingers, flashing them with a teenage boy smile.

"My hero,"

For the first time during this night, you felt the tension leaving with the winds of Sakhir. Sex was not on your plan, in fact, quite the opposite.

However, you forgot there was no such thing as a plan when it came to Max Verstappen. Specially not when it came to desire and love. Plus, a girl is allowed to enjoy herself, it's not like you were going to get soft on him now, right?

The closing door blocked all the noise. Suddenly, the room was carried with heavy air, lost faith, gained hope, misery, all at once. If you listened closely, you were able to hear Max's heart beating irregular beats. It felt to him like he was about to have a stroke, a heart attack, a breakdown, or all of the above. You were danger, your presence was too powerful. He needed to get control back, or he would just spiral.

But you would not let him. Not right now.

Just as quick as you left him that night, you were pulling him by his neck. Lips connected like they were never meant to leave each other in the first place. Looking for each other's air because the room was getting smaller and smaller. This was the point of the night in which you didn't need to perform. You were not doing it for the plot, the revenge, you were doing it because you desperately craved him.

Max had only a few times seen you this way. It was unusual, but he wasn't complaining. He didn't quite like the fact that if you asked him to kneel down and bark, he'd do it, however. And he was afraid you'd notice it and just torture him the whole night. The boy was just a little too late.

"You said you wanted to make it up to me." Max didn't know how you managed to get a full sentence out in the middle of what was going on, if he opened his mouth all that would leave his throat were pathetic sighs and moans. "Then prove it."

You pushed him away, slightly. Max's chest underneath his navy blue t-shirt didn't hide his erratic breathing.

"I am proving it to you."

He leaned in, but was met with another slight push. This time, mixed between his confusion, was frustration. Just as much as you wanted him, he wanted you. No, he needed you. Needed to be close to you as if there was a war going on outside and that was the only way to keep both of you safe.

"No." No? What the hell no meant? "Kneel."

Your command was firm, imperative. You were no stranger to take charge in the bedroom with Max, but it usually lasted around five minutes, a way to spice things up or push him to the edge until he finally broke. In a way, it was fake-control, because you knew it was just a matter of time until you were at his mercy. But not this time.

"What?" He heard you well, the question was put there simply as a way of making you change your mind.

"You heard me, Verstappen. Kneel and beg for me."

Max didn't have a chance to respond or brush it off with a scoffed laugh, your hands were already on his shoulders, applying force to bring him down. It wasn't gravity the one who put Max Verstappen to his knees, it was the magnetic force of your words and the torment of his desires for you.

"Schatje, come on."

"Hm. That all you got?"

The truth is, Max was running out of protests. You knew it took him a lot to put his pride to the side.

He wanted you back, but there was no way he was going to beg for it. Max Verstappen doesn't beg, for anyone. Actually, he never needed to, he always got what he wanted. But his resources were coming to an end, because your posture and the way you were demanding the room, left him with no choice.

With the gentlest touch, like you were made out of the rarest crystal, Max's hand came to the back of your calves, slowly making their way to the back of your knees. He stopped there, didn't dare going further up. His hands were big enough to almost wrap around it completely, and he applied pressure. It was a simple gesture, but goddamn it you missed his fingers touching you, you didn't care where.

You looked down, right hand travelling to his hair, fingers intertwining between some strands, making a mess. He always looked beautiful with messy hair.

"Please." A kiss on your right knee. "Please, forgive me." A kiss on the left knee. "I will do anything for you."

The hand that was on his hair made its way to his cheek. Your thumb brushing the soft skin underneath his eyes. Max was flushing, the blood was rushing everywhere through his veins, heart pounding, maybe after this he should cancel his weekend, because there is no way he would make it out alive.

Then, all of the sudden, your gentle rub became a slap. Not a rough slap, in fact, only a couple of taps, to call out his attention. And, damn, maybe a hard slap would be less humiliating than this. And it didn't help when you had a devilish grin in your lips.

"Come on, pretty boy, just a little bit more. You're almost there. Look at me."

He was. Like a puppy. Like a dog starving. His pupils were so dilated you couldn't tell his eyes were pale blue. You were hell. That wasn't you. Looked like you, wore your clothes, the same old vanilla perfume, but if his whole life Max saw you as his sweet girl, this time he was seeing you as a mythical creature, completely transformed into something else.

"I fucked up. I can't live without you. Please, Y/N, I am about to go insane. I fucking love you, just come back to me, please. I can't make it without you." His chin rested somewhere on top of your legs.

You smiled. Humiliating Max sexually was not a part of the plan, but it was so satisfactory you could go straight back home with fulfillment in your bones.

"Good enough."

You backed out and walked straight to the door. In a sudden movement, Max got up, his legs felt like jelly, his head was spinning. There was no time for him to catch up, you had already left. He heard something like a see you tomorrow, but wasn't completely sure. In that particular moment he was out. Interpreting his feelings wasn't always easy, and right now it sure as hell was the hardest thing for him to do, considering there was a mix of everything inside his guts.

It took all of your strength to not go back, just to get a glimpse of how Max Verstappen looked completely desolated, alone in his hotel room, frustrated, confused. Exactly like you were that afternoon, three months ago. If you suffered, he was going to suffer the exact same thing, but ten times more.

*

"Max, you good? Looks like you're about to throw up."

Sitting in a round table, his salad was untouched, his cup still filled with water. The voices were mushy, he couldn't tell which driver elaborated that question. Truth is, he wasn't paying attention to anything else, too busy looking around, searching for any glimpse of you. Anything to demonstrate that you were still there, because you could probably be back home by now, laughing while sitting on your sofa, seeing his misery on live television.

He was brought back to the real world with Charles' voice commanding his attention, because finally, for the first time during that stupid lunch, someone said something that actually mattered.

"Mate, what is Y/N doing here? I thought you two broke up."

"Where is she?" His voice sounded so desperate, so pathetic, Lando couldn't help but chuckle.

"Just saw her talking to Honer when I passed the Red Bull garage. Could've swore I was seeing things, but it was actually her. Are you two back together?"

Midst sentence Max was already gone, rushing through the crowd as fast as he could before it was too late. He looked desperate, like he was looking for water in a desert island.

The meters to the garage seemed like the distance to the moon. His eyes were filled by the sigh of Horner, talking to someone else, not relevant, nor for him, because the someone else wasn't you. The conversation seemed important, and it would be rude to interrupt, but Max couldn't care less.

"Christian, where is Y/N?"

Horner turned around to look at his driver, bright fake smile. A little annoyed that he interrupted, but there was no way he was going to show Verstappen any annoyance.

"Well, hello to you too, Max. I was meaning to ask, what is she doing here? Thought you left her."

"Where the fuck is she?" Max asked again, this time his tone showed little to no patience.

Horner narrowed his eyes, if anyone else in this world talked to him like this, God would feel sorry for them. But again, the golden boy could do anything he pleased.

"If I'm not mistaken, she was looking for you. My guess is that she is waiting on your driver room."

The boy left. No thank you, no sorry, just simply vanished like dust.

The fragile door was opened with violence. This time, Max was quicker, not giving you a chance to play your game.

Eventually, after two days of deep contemplation, torture and screaming into his pillow, Max decided that he had enough of your games. Now, both of you were going to play things his way. Or so he thought.

"Why the fuck are you here? What the fuck do you want?"

You were sitting, legs crossed. His presence was dominating, but you didn't break character.

"What happened to good mornings? No one taught you proper manners?"

"Cut the fucking bullshit, Y/N. Why are you doing this?"

You got up, making your way towards him. Not too close and Max thanked God for that, because one more step and he would just break down again, crumble into crushed pieces of a boy. However, standing from a safe distance, his mind was taken by frustration, he wanted answers just as well as he wanted to rip your clothes off and make you pay for the little stunt you pulled two nights ago.

"I want to see you suffer."

You knew he would eventually caught up. It's Max, he is smart. And if anyone would understand the reasonings behind your feelings, it would be him.

So there was no reason to hide your true intentions anymore.

Max nodded, hands on his waist. He expressed some sort of laugh as a substitute for just yelling and screaming. He had done that already.

"How's that going for you?"

"Not nearly as close as the amount of suffering I am hoping for." Max was taken back by the cruelness and coldness in your words. "I want you to regret leaving me 'til the day you are buried six feet under ground. If you suffered ten times of what I did for those past months, still, wouldn't be enough.”

"I don't know how to break this to you, sweetheart. But making me kneel and beg, although I appreciate the effort, it was cute, isn't really close to the pain of getting dumped. You'll have to work harder than that."

Your lips curled into a wide spread smile.

"I know."

Up and close to his eyes, between your delicate fingers, a medium sized black piece of something he had an idea of, but didn't want to believe it was real.

"What is this?"

"You should get going, Maxie, quali is about to begin."

"You removed a piece from my fucking car?! Are you fucking insane?! This is psychotic, Jesus fucking Christ!" His eyes widened, his hands went through his hair in a desperate act. "How the fuck did you even manage to do that?!"

"A lady never tells."

Max thanked the universe when he heard a knock on the door, because God only knows what his next move was going to be, hadn't he been interrupted by GP at that second.

"Buddy, we have 10 minutes, you better come." He looked at the clueless man standing at the door, then back at you, who put on your best innocent smile, hands behind your back like you just didn't do the most devilish, disgraceful thing he has ever seen.

"Yeah, okay, give me two seconds.

As GP closed the door, Max took a step closer to you. He contemplated letting people know, snitching on you, but he held his anger and shoved the burning flames to the back of his throat. He wasn't going to play your game. If you were bad, Max Verstappen was worse.

Max's next move wasn't what you were expecting at all. With the gentleness of a first kiss, he brought his lips to your forehead, like he always did before stepping to his car, however, this time, taking a little bit longer, savouring the feeling of your skin beneath him.

"See you later, Schatje."

You were confused. Angry, even, by his reaction.

And then, when he finally left, you felt it. The shame, the guilt. You knew you went too far, but you were too blind by hatred, and too hungry for seeing him break.

On the other hand, Max walked into his car with the confidence and determination he hadn't felt in a while. It was Red Bull. This was a secure place, there were a innumerous amount of people there watching his fucking car. There was no chance that you, clueless girl, could just walk up there and steal a piece of whatever that thing was. God, you didn't even know how a Formula 1 car worked, how the hell were you supposed to remove an important piece? Max thought, hoped, wished, that you just took something he could manage to work without, and it was what gave him a little bit of relief stepping into the car.

Nonetheless, as quick as the relief came, it was washed away by a thought so much darker, what if you had help?

"Hey, Paul." Max called out for the man to his left.

"The car is good, yeah?"

"You tell me, mate." Paul joked around, not quite understanding the driver's question.

"No, I mean, the car is intact, right? Nothing missing?"

Paul arched an eyebrow.

"Of course, Max, it's all good."

The driver nodded and soon enough left with his car.

Qualifying started. You watched nervously through the screen in the garage. Maybe you crossed the line. On the other hand, you knew Max wasn't stupid, he made sure you knew with that ridiculous kiss. No other man could drive you insane. Two days later you were reading him like your favorite book, now, you couldn't tell a word inside his brain, except for, of course, how badly he was cursing you.

And boy... He was. Every time he made a turn and the car trembled he found a new name to curse you inside his mind. Thank God the FlA couldn't hear thoughts, at least twenty thousand fines were proffered only in the first five minutes.

The car was shit, unsteady. It was honestly scaring Max how unpredictable it was. Never in his entire career he felt so uneasy with a vehicle, not even in his rookie years.

"There is something really wrong with the car."

Max added in a frustrated radio message before firing back to his garage.

The crew was there, waiting for him. He stepped out of the car and let the engineers take a look.

You managed to catch a glimpse of him, even though his face was hiding behind the helmet, you knew he was contorted in desperation. You couldn't believe it. For better or for worse, your plan fucking worked.

The engineers cleared the way and Max tried again, completely incredulous on how you managed to ruin his entire race weekend. There was no way your relationship was going to make it after this. Max didn't even know if he was going to make it after this, he might just shove the car into a wall and die inside of it just to prove a point, watch you suffer with guilt until the end of your life.

By the last lap he was third.

Q2 was a bit better than Q1, that until someone crashed their car. Perfect, not only were you ruining his day, but the universe also decided to collaborate with your evil plan. Maybe you got Max's rivals to be a part of it. Maybe the whole entire team and crew were by your side.

By Q3 Max started to actually considering driving his car to the wall. The breaks weren't working. He couldn't break, at all. You fucking destroyed his breaks. You toyed with his car like it was a lego piece. At the end of that session, taking seventh place, Max stormed out of the car and threw his gloves on the floor. He just wanted to get everything off, his clothes, his helmet, his shoes. He wanted to go back home, to his cats, to his pillow, cry for hours.

Yes, the disaster of a bad qualifying hurt, but it was the heartbreak that got to him. Never in a million years he thought the love of his life would be capable of doing something so cruel and evil.

That wasn't normal. A normal thing would be for you to burn his hoodies or slash the tyres of his Porsche. You manipulated his car, possibly messing with his safety. You weren't the love of his life, you were a full blown psychopath. Which is the reason Max thanked that you weren't in his driver's room when he came back.

That being said, he wasn't so blessed when he opened his hotel room and found you sitting on his bed, wearing the same clothes as you were in the afternoon.

"Are you fucking for real? You have some guts coming into my room thinking that I would actually want to see you. I take everything back, I don't want you! I fucking hate you! I want you gone! I want to never look at your face again! You are the most terrible person I have ever met."

He was shouting, yelling, clenching his teeth and jawline. Stomping around like a maniac while the explosive bursts of verbal thunder left his mouth.

"Max, please, let me explain." You didn't raise your voice, you couldn't, you were wrong here.

"Explain what?! Huh?! How you manipulated my car?! Played around with my safety?! Almost killed me?! God, Y/N, I love you and you do this? This isn't normal, this isn't alright, this isn't something you fix with an explanation. There is no fixing this."

His voice became lower, not because he wasn't angry, he still was outrageous, but now the sadness of a heartbreak were too consuming, surpassing every emotion that was battling inside his mind and heart. There were tears in his eyes and they were the bluest you have ever seen. His lips were pink, trembling. His cheeks and nose were red. You felt an agonizing need to hold him.

"Max, you need to breathe." Poor choice of words, you could see it in his entire face as his eyes became shallow. "I didn't alter your car."

Max was about to lash out again, but he didn't believe his ears. As much as he hated you right now, you caught his attention. He didn't slow down, though, his chest was heavy, he was close to breaking down.

"Come again?"

"I didn't take any piece from your car!"

He could see you were crying now and he could swear you seemed honest, like a child trying to prove to their parents that they weren't the one in the wrong.

"Yes, you fucking did, you showed me! Do you seriously think I am going to believe your bullshit right now?"

"No, I didn't, this isn't anything! It's just a stupid piece of plastic!"

In a desperate attempt you held the black piece close to his face.

His vision was blurry, by tears, by confusion and hatred. He caught the piece and analyzed every corner of it. It didn't seem legit, it seemed, like you said, just a piece of plastic.

"What the actual-"

"-I just wanted you to believe I did. I wanted to scare you. I wanted to make you doubt yourself. I would never do anything that would actually put you in danger, Max, I love you. I wanted to prove a point." He couldn't believe it. In fact, he thought he was hallucinating the whole weekend and this was all a twisted nightmare, "Yes, it was selfish, I am wrong, I crossed the line. But I thought you were going to catch up to it. I didn't believe it was going to work, you are you, Max"

Now, add skepticism to the list of emotions inside his gut.

"But the fucking car was shit! The breaks weren't working! I couldn't drive that thing at all!"

"That has nothing to do with me."

Max couldn't tell if he was relieved by the fact that you didn't try to kill and you still loved him, or felt betrayed by how you manipulated his reality to the point he drove like shit just because he believed something was wrong with the car. Or maybe Red Bull just fucking sucks. Both later options were not respectful outcomes to him.

"Please, say something. I am so sorry, Max! I regret it. I should have never done it, I know. I am so sorry. I understand if you never want to see me again and, God, I'll even move from Monaco if that's what you like. I'll disappear, completely."

Your words hit him. He thought about them for a split second. The thought of you leaving his life, to him, was death. Sure, what you did was not okay, he was heartbroken, it would take time to heal. However, the more he thought about it, the more willing he was to try. If you were able to give him a second chance, he should give you the benefit of the doubt. You were taken by passion, by heartache and overwhelming sadness, Max wasn't a stranger to strong bursts of emotions and impulsiveness, which is why, deep down, he understood why you did what you did. Maybe, if he was in your shoes, he would've done worse.

"We are too old for shit like this, Y/N."

You could feel he was a bit more relaxed, which is why you felt an openness to just hold him. You didn't care if he wasn't going to hold you back, you just wanted to show him how much you regret your childish ploy.

"I know, baby, I am so sorry, I love you."

Fair enough, Max didn't hold you back. Instead, he pushed you away, another idea forming in the back of his twisted, unserious mind.

"You're going to work a little bit harder than this, sweetheart, if you want my forgiveness."

In his eyes, you could see there was still anger painted in the black of his pupils, but mixed with the gleam of his almost dried tears, you noticed a different kind of sparkle, one he saw in your eyes two nights ago.

"Do you want me to kneel and beg?"

Max took a step back.

"I want you to kneel, but I think your mouth can do better things than begging."

There was a feeling of delirium happening in the back of your mind, that carefully traveled through your veins as if you had take the most powerful drug available in the market. In just a matter of seconds you were down on your knees, hands playing with the hem of Max's shorts. You looked up, as if asking for permission to take them off. To Max, that was a vision out of the walls of the louvre, you, down, eyes sparkling with sultry glamour, mouth watering.

With an attentive movement, you pulled down his shorts, leaving a trail of kisses on the inside of his thigh, making sure you were scratching every inch of his skin, treating him as if he was the cure to all your worries and troubles. He might as well be.

"Get to it, my love, no teasing."

"Where's the fun in that?" You asked with a tint of playfulness in your voice.

"You're not really in a position to have fun. You either put those pretty lips to use or I will leave you here with nothing."

"Well, since you asked so politely."

You completely removed his boxers, facing his cock. Your mouth watered. You made sure you spread enough saliva around, licking every inch of him, paying extra attention to his sensitive spots you were well familiar with, before taking him with gluttony, tasting every bit he was giving.

Your hands were everywhere, scratching his thighs, caressing his balls, while you moved your head, feeling him in the back of your throat, around your lips.

Max was in pure bliss, his organs were electrified.

He swore you got better since the break up. Or maybe it was the absence that made it much more intimate, filthy, delicious.

"Jesus, Schatje, you're so dirty." He ran his fingers through your hair until he decided to guide your movements with his hands, slowly, making sure the pace was comfortable for both of you. "You look so pretty when you're doing what I want."

He went a bit further and you gagged in response, moaning right after. The vibrations coming from your throat sent Max into a frenzy. You swirled your tongue around his head, looking up through your eyelashes, exactly the way he liked. You loved giving Max blowjobs, it was as pleasurable for you as for him and he could tell, and there was nothing hotter to Max than seeing you get aroused by giving him pleasure.

Each time his cock hit your throat, he could feel he was getting closer.

"Don't stop, keep sucking me off, keep going." You just obeyed, feeling yourself get hotter by the second, you knew your panties were gone by now, yet you still craved more. You needed to taste him more, you needed to take back the time you missed. "Fuck-Y/N, fucking hell. Just like that.

You're so good."

The praise was everything, because you didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve him. Yet, here he was, giving you all of him, all of his time and body, the best parts.

One more deeper thrust and you gagged again, the reaction made you squeeze his thighs. Max shut his eyes tight, groaning and moaning a bit too loud, but he couldn't control himself, not when you were on his knees, taking him so well, doing your job like a freaking pornstar.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum." The liquid was everywhere inside your throat. He made sure he finished before removing his cock from inside your mouth, drops of drool spilling on the floor. "You better swallow every drop or we'll do it all over again."

You did as he asked, you wouldn't dare do it otherwise. You stood up, looking right into his eyes as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out.

"Good fucking slut."

In a sinful act, Max spat in your tongue, holding your hair tightly in a knot between his palm. The move was so dirty, so filthy, you could come just by relieving the scene alone.

With desperate hands, you started to remove your top and then proceeded to his shirt. Meanwhile, Max was practically ripping out your skirt, abruptly removing every piece of fabric that dared touch your skin.

His kiss was demanding, hard, rough, thrilling.

There was a primal instinct awaken inside you, one that wanted to be with him and serve him for the rest of your life. One that could live in beds with him until you grow old.

Max pushed you to the bed, body towering yours.

Your hands desperately tried to grab his neck, his back, bring him closer, if it was any possible. You felt his hand sliding slowly between your thighs, until he reached your folds. He made sure to spread the wetness around, making a mess on your inner thighs and hip bones.

"Max, please." You pleated, voice cracking, there was no way you could form coherent sentences, your mind was hazy, no other thought inside your head except Max Verstappen and his hands.

"Look at you." His voice was dark, husky. "So wet just from sucking me off. Do you want more?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Then ask for it, use your words."

That man had you in the palm of his hands. If he asked you to go to war for him, at that moment, in your situation, you would.

"Please, Max, please." Your vocals were stuck down your throat, you were struggling to speak, the sensations of his hands rubbing your clit ever so slightly you could barely say they were in there was just too overwhelming.

"Pathetic, try again." He placed a kiss on your collarbone, then on the curve of your neck. His lips were wet and hot, a little bit swollen from the roughness of your kisses.

"Max, fuck me, please, stuff me, use me, do Whatever you want."

Max stopped every touch. Looked deep inside your eyes with a smirk on his lips that you just wanted to slap it off, or kiss it off, whichever one your reflexes allowed.

He scrunched his nose and giggle, it was a way of mocking you, you knew that. You knew you sounded pathetic, you didn't care. The humiliation was not crossing your mind, nothing to worry about, it wasn't worth it. He was. Max was worth it.

"Stupid little thing, trying to pull stunts on me, then begging me to use you like you were some sort of cheap whore."

You moaned in response, lifting your hips to meet his. In a firm movement, Max held your hips down with his right leg, applying pressure on your lower belly, making it unable for you to move.

"Stop lifting your hips like a goddamn whore, you're going to take whatever I decide to give you."

He wasn't treating you kindly, you knew there was still resentment somewhere inside him. Sure, there was. Max knew it too. At that moment he was using you, taking his frustration out. But it wasn't like you haven't done the same, only your way of torturing him was a bit less fun than his.

You felt yourself sinking into Max's cock, involuntarily you sunk your nails on his back, trying to fight back the scorching sensation filling you up, making you whole. Max's rhythm was slow, painfully slow, which was unlike him, he never fucked you like this, always fast, slamming, pounding. This was even more overwhelming than his usual desperation and roughness, because it wasn't hurting but it felt like you simply couldn't take it, the lack of pace was driving you insane.

Max knew it, it was taking every single tear of strength left in his tired body to keep it slow, because you felt too good, too perfect wrapped around him. He missed your feeling, he missed your whimpers and cries.

"You feel so good, Schatje, like you were made only for my cock. Nothing more. Too useless to anything else, couldn't even figure out how to take a piece out of my car." He laughed, replaying the scene back in his memory. "Stupid little thing."

You cried out because you felt that he, without thinking, went a little bit harder when remembering what happened. If you wanted him to give you what you needed, you would have to push him only a little bit. You lost the war, you know you did, but there were still some battles left.

"Come on, Max. Slow on tracks, slow in bed. You used to be better than this. What are you trying to do? Fuck me to sleep?"

He looked down on you, with contempt. How dare you talk to him this way? But it was a good try, he was close to snapping, making you regret the whole week, going too hard until you couldn't remember why you were on this earth for.

You were scared of his eyes, how dark they were, but your stomach flipped with the thrill of waiting for his next move.

"Oh, she can talk!" His voice was drenched in disdain. "Let's fix this."

Not even stopping, Max parted your lips only to shove the lace fabric of your panties into your mouth. Fucking bastard. You protested, but now even you had to admit the sounds coming from you were a joke.

"Much better."

Then, in a sudden, fierce movement, he flipped you. Stomach down the mattress, face pressed against the egyptian sheets, a luxury that only Bahrain could provide. Max's left hand was pressing your head further down as he started to pick up the pace, slamming hard and faster. He was, in fact, using you as a personal fucktoy, but you didn't mind it, the feeling was too good.

You felt euphoric, your blood was buzzing. You tried to hold the sheets, grab something, but there was no way for you to control your body. The sounds coming from your mouth were involuntary, so were the one's coming from Max.

It was too much for him, he knew he wouldn't last longer. He never used you like this before, it made him feel like a god. No amount of championship wins would come close to the feeling of being buried deep down inside you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck- Look at what you made me do, fucking slut." You could feel the tears coming down. Good tears. The hot kind. "Are you going to cry on me now?"

You saw one of his hands coming to your mouth, removing the fabric and tossing far away to the other side of the room.

"Yes, Max, oh God, fuck."

He groaned, the wet noises were feeling the room.

The familiar sensation of fire pooling low in your abdomen started to show up. If he asked you to hold on, God forgive you, there was no way in hell.

You heard him moan a mixture of curse words and your name, but your senses were coming blurry, as if you were about to pass out.

"Max, 'm gonna cum."

"Gonna cum inside you, baby."

He pressed down, letting his weight fall on top of you, that's when you felt the tightness around your organs being released. The sounds coming from you were too much for Max to hold on any longer, not even seconds later he was breaking down. It was animalistic, filthy, pornographic, even.

He never took it out, he stayed inside of you for minutes after he was done. You were too sensitive to take any movement. That experience was whatever religious people were trying to reach with their existence. Who needed faith when you had Max Verstappen as a lover?

You barely noticed that his weight left the top of your naked body, only flipping back around when you saw him coming from the bathroom with a towel. He sat down next to you, breathing slowly, gently rubbing the fabric between your thighs.

"Are you okay?" You nodded, thinking you blacked out for a second. "Do you want a glass of water?"

"I just want you to lay down here."

He did as you asked, letting you wrap yourself around him. You could tell there were no bad feelings around, everything vanished into thin air.

It was just you and Max, same as ever.

"Do you forgive me, Max?"

He placed a long lasting kiss in your right temple.

"Is it bad if I said you should pull stuff like this more often just so that we could repeat this?"

You giggled, fingers tracing drawings on his stomach.

"I think we can figure another game that won't risk our relationship burning to ashes if something goes wrong."

"Fair enough." You felt him adjust his body. "And, yes, I do forgive you."

You needed the reassurance, Max knew that. He knew you. You were a melody from his favorite childhood song, one that he listened to it and it never left his mind.

There was no letting you go. It would always be complex and easy at the same time. But any complication was worth it if it meant you would never leave his side.

[midnightshindig]

spoiler for the comic ignore this if you haven't read them. But rex grew up poor and his parents never really cared for him. Whay if we're dating and he met our parents and they welcomed him with open arms. Pookie deserves some love

Rex x Reader: Meeting the Parents hcs!

OOOooo I love this request! I don't read the comics but I have read the Atom Eve and Rex Splode special issue... mostly bc I'm bitch whipped for that man BUT NONTHELESS- here you go!!

Fic under the cut! ^^

You've been dating Rex for like six months at this point

and after the fourth month, you brought up meeting your parents

and he's SO against it

"C'mong Y/n- you know me and adults or authority figures- I'm like a lovable douchebag, parents hate me. Adults hate me- like most respectable people don't like me I'm amazed you like me-"

You have to cut him off because jesus christ

You don't know jack about his past, but you know it wasn't pleasant

Still, this is important to you

and after two months of begging and pleading and downright harassing him about it- you get Eve involved

Eve gives you the low down on his past, and you can't help but feel bad

But she also convinces Rex to give your parents a chance, they made you, and they can't be that bad.

So you set up a dinner date to introduce them to one another.

"Hi Y/n!" You open the door and there Rex is, in what looks like a slightly too big suit, and a tie he would never own

You raise an eyebrow, wordlessly looking him up and down.

He leans in and whispers "It's Zandale's he let me borrow it for twenty bucks" he beams at you, and you notice the flowers in hand

"What are those for?"

"oh! these! These are fooorrrrrr-" He walks past you, and at first you're confused, until you turn around and notice your mother standing behind you

He's presenting the flowers to her with a nervous grin, like, painfully obviously awkward and nervous

But she LOVES them, taking them from him softly and pinching his cheek

"OO! What a polite and well-groomed young man! I love the hair, it's so stylish!" She coos, fawning all over him like you knew she would

You close the door behind him, following the two into the kitchen where your mother puts the flowers into a vase.

"Y/n, Dad should be home soon, will you set the table? I made lasagna"

So you and Rex fuck off to set the table, small talk passing between the two of you quietly

"So, you got her flowers?"

"mmmhm! She's nice.... very affectionate.... and friendly..." He trails off, focusing on a neat table

You've never seen him like this, all focused and impressive and shit

You're a little flattered

When your father gets home everything just gets better

Rex gives him a firm handshake and your dad just cracks up

"Yknow- I was a volunteer firefighter in my day!"

You groan "oh Dad- not this-"

"No no! I know I'm not superhero like my little Y/n, but I'm no louse either!" He flexes a now-flabby arm, and Rex grins

"That's impressive Mr. L/n, my dad was a drunk." He means it to be funny, but the room goes quiet

"oh... dear... I'm so sorry" your mother breaks the quiet with a hand over his "Was? Is he.... is he passed on?"

Rex shrugs, not getting the gravity of the situation "naw, he and my mom sold me to the government to be experimented on for the price of a steak dinner"

Aaaand your mom is crying

AAAAND YOUR DAD IS CRYING

They're both hugging him and he's just looking at you like "wtf is going on?"

and the fact he's so confused why they're distressed for him just makes it more distressing

He's like "I'm an adult I don't even need parents"

but they're not having it

Your mom puts her number into his phone and demands she rely on them as if he were their son

Your father chimes in "I mean you're practically family, taking care of Y/n here-" he ruffles your hair with his palm as you groan

The dinner goes well, and Rex has his first real home cooked meal

which makes him tear up

and when your mom asks what the matter and he tells her

oh my god the waterworks

You're a little annoyed, but you can't bring yourself to be too upset

After all, these are the people you love most in the world, becoming family.

After dinner, he treats them to a little firework show, and they just lose it

Your parents are going to be raving about this for weeks.

On the way back to GHQ, Rex slips his hand into your

"that was.... intense." He states with a laugh

"Yeah, they really like you" You smiled fondly, remembering the night

Rex's expression suddenly turns serious "I'm glad... I didn't know what I was going to do if they hated me. Not when you're so important to me or whatever...."

You smiled, bumping him with your hip "I'm glad it didn't come to that. They love you just as much as I do."

Rex couldn't be happier

[witchofhimring]

Being the daughter of Daemon Targaryen

Daemon x reader (platonic)

I will split this into four different parts depending on who the mother is (Laena, Rhae, Mysaria, Rhaenyra)

Your relationship with Daemon really depends on who your mother is. Although I think he would love his daughter regardless of who the mother is, your relationship will still differ depending on who she is.

Mysaria:

- As his first born you hold a special place in his heart. Daemon keeps you in a mansion with your mother. Despite your bastardy he still has you educated. And anyway, he planned to have you legitimated in time. Unlike with his other wives (except Rhea) there will be a battle between your parents on who has the most influence. Daemon will bring you up to be a true Valyrian. But Mysaria does not agree with everything he does and do the two will argue.

- ‘I will not have my daughter riding those beasts.’ Mysaria stood over Daemon. Although she was not ignorant as to the threat he could pose, Mysaria felt very strongly about her daughter riding a dragon. She had always been a careful woman. Ever since she was a little girl who endured her father’s abuse Mysaria had known how to survive. And when her daughter was born she swore you too would be safe. That meant, for Mysaria; No. Fucking. Dragon. Daemon sat hunched in his chair. He was tired but equally determined. ‘She is a Valyrian. Whatever the circumstances of her birth are.’ Standing in the doorway you watched nervously. You hated listening to your parents fight. Quietly, you slunk into the darkness.

- Unfortunately this will result in Daemon taking you from Mysaria once their relationship is over. This causes a lot of tension and your relationship with him will change. It is hard being away from your mother for so long. Daemon takes you with him wherever he goes. He will try to be more stationary for your benefit. And the word is "try". Life is both tough and fun. Constantly moving around made it hard to make long lasting friends. But Daemon will do fun things such as going to the market, dragon riding and buying items for any hobby you are into. Mysaria finds secret ways to contact you without Daemon's knowledge. You sort of lead a double life with both parents.

-Your mother's most recent letter was quickly slid under the pillow as your bedroom door opened. Your father stepped in holding a wooden box. Curiously you asked what was in the box. Daemon opened it and inside you found cloth and sewing needles. With a smile you took it and went through the materials. Daemon had a small smile on his face as his daughter rummaged through everything. He did not really understand your love of sewing but he was happy to provide the materials.

-You do get a dragon. Daemon lobbies hard for you to have a dragon and for a while Viserys says no. Not because he doesn't think you deserve one but because of your status (this is before you are legitimated). This changes when Rhaenyra had her first born and Daemon will snidely make remarks when Viserys brings up your bastardy. Eventually Viserys relents. Your dragon is called Saephrin, a thin green scaled creature who is called the Sky Snake. He is very fast an nimble. You spent a lot of time in the cave and riding Saephrin. Daemon likes to ride beside you on nice day. The dragons do keep some distance between each other since Caraxes can get a bit snappy around the younger dragon. These outings usually end in picnics and going to far off places.

-Higher and into the sky you climbed. Wind whistled past your ears, wind whipping hair around. Just behind you was Daemon on Caraxes. Above the clouds you flew looking at the ground bellow. The house you lived in had become a simple blip on the ground. The ache in your thighs felt good. Riding on dragon back brought you more satisfaction than anything else. Showing off you father burst up from a sea of clouds, sending white mist everywhere. Despite your vision being temporarily obscured you were not scared. Daemon was an expert dragon rider, you were in no danger. Your dragon let out a wiry cry and you dove. Leaning back you could see the ground bellow you coming nearer. You looked up to find Daemon still circling above. Saephrin then extended his wings and you were shot back into the air. With a whoop of laughter you went to meet him in the sky.

Rhea:

-Daemon would not allow Rhea to raise you. Despite him belief in Valyrian supremacy you are still a Targaryen. He will use his position as a prince to limit contact between Rhea and yourself. This leads to some tension between Daemon and Viserys, who feels your place is in Runestone. In this scenario Daemon is in Runestone more often. There is a back and forth between who has more influence. Daemon will try to distance you from Andal influences and Rhea vise vera. This leaves you feeling constantly torn.

-Their voices echoed down the hall to where you sat alone. By all rights you should be in bed already. If anyone were to find you out there would be trouble. One would think that years of this would harden you to your parents constant fights. 'My daughter will not be taking part in your filthy Valyrian traditions! I am only glad that she has no brother for you to force her to fuck.' You could almost see your fathers reaction in your mind. There was the sound of a physical altercation and you buried yourself deeper into the shadows. You were not sure when the fight ended. Only that your father slunk through the hall and you hardly dared to breath as he walked past. Once you were sure both parents were gone you wandered the halls.

-A dragon egg is given to you by Daemon upon birth. The pearl coloured egg hatches and a light pink dragon is born, named Willow. You grew close to the dragon and liked to bring her into your playroom. Whenever she was separated from you a tantrum resumed on both ends. You could not live without Willow. Your father would becomes a less present figure om your life. For a while life grew slightly easier. At least no parents were fighting. And so a quiet existence descended. Your mother taught you to hunt and command a falcon. By her hand you sat at council meetings. One day you would become Lady of Runestone and command these people. Unlike many other women, even high born ones, you would be permitted to wield power without the say so of a man. When your mother died Daemon came back for you. He tried to take you from Runestone but the lords protested. Swallowing his rage, Daemon would fly between his residences and Runestone. He was more involved now. because of your position Daemon would teach you battle strategy and swordplay. Daemon was determined to make you a proper ruling lady.

-'Block!' Daemon's sword came down from ahead and you only just blocked it. He did not relent with each blow, causing witnesses to shoot mistrusting looks. While Daemon was not being gentle there was a method to this. The world was not kind to women especially women who took the places men more often occupied. You must become strong enough to defend your own. And Daemon had a feeling war was not too far off. Daemon felt Rhea had been a poor teacher. He would not have some docile Andal lily for a daughter. Gods damn it you were a Targaryen. Each strike was used to test your ability. Eventually the sword was knocked aside. 'Dead.' Daemon pointed the sword to your chest. The he heaved you to your feet. 'Good.' Daemon was not one to hand out compliments. But you had done very well and made much progress. You gave him a small smile.

-Once you are older Daemon will have you visit him on Dragonstone. You never knew your first step mother Laena as you were too young to fly to Pentos on dragon back. But by the time he married Rhaenyra you were older and Dragonstone was closer. You would fly in on Willow and spend time with your father and the new editions. Your relationship with Rhaenyra is alright. She had always wanted a daughter but she remembers you are the daughter of Rhea and that always unsettles Rhaenyra. You like Baela and Rhaena well enough. Daemon is happy when you arrive. Even if he has a hard time showing it. As the eldest you are given the most responsibility. He has you informed of the comings and goings of political situation, and you help the Blacks keep ties with house Arryn. He places a lot of trust in you.

-You had come in late that night on Willow. Inwardly groaning with exhaustion you climbed off the dragon and staggered towards the castle. Your father was there to greet you. Nodding in acknowledgment Daemon turned and beckoned you inside. This might have been considered cold for a father, but from Daemon this was "warm", in his way. You followed him inside and he allowed you to quickly wipe down, change and eat. By the fire both of you sat till Daemon deemed you settled in enough. 'How are you unruly men?' He had never taken to the people of Runestone. 'They are just fine father.' You did not like your father talking like this. It made you feel unfaithful to those you lead. 'Good, and the Arryns?' He said this with less skepticism. 'I think if it comes to war they will side with us. Lady Jeyne Arryn was no love for Otto Hightower or his ilk.' 'Good.' He grunted. For a while the pair of you talked of these things until Daemon sent you to bed. As you got up he patted you on you shoulder. 'You've done well.'

Laena:

-You are born a year after Baela and Rhaena in Pentos. At the time Laena and Daemon were traveling Essos so you did not have a permeant home. Despite not living in Westeros at the time you were still a Targaryen, one of only a few. There were already discussions about your future. Daemon preferred for his family to remain in Westeros, perhaps you could marry a Pentoshi prince. Laena on the other hand would rather you marry into Westerosi aristocracy. You, along with your two sisters are brought up to be noblewomen like your mother. On the other hand Daemon is interested in teaching Valyrian ancestry and swordplay. His interest will hinge on how much you are like him. This does not mean Daemon does not love his children. But he does show more interest in his children who are dragon riders. Daemon is largely unaware of the effect it had on his children (i.e. Rhaena). Like your sisters you will get a dragon egg. It eventually hatches, but it takes a while.

-Daemon did not normally feel uncomfortable, especially around his own children. Last week his youngest daughter's dragon had hatched, a small grey think with spikey scales running up its neck. He had been undeniably proud of his daughter. Three years had passed since his now ten year old daughter had received her egg as name-day present from Viserys. Daemon had lost hope that her dragon would hatch. he would check if the two dragon eggs resting in the fireplace had hatched. Now only Rhaena's egg rested there. Y/n was sitting alone by the see with Kaeros on her lap. One day that dragon not be small like a kitten, but larger than any one of them. Daemon took a seat beside her. 'Your dragon hatched.' He felt foolish for posing such a silly question. Y/n would be a dragon rider and carry out the Targaryen traditions. Y/n shrugged her shoulders but said nothing. For a while they awkwardly sat beside one another till Y/n headed in.

-After Laena's death the family headed back to Westeros. Daemon married Rhaenyra and Dragonstone became home. It was very different from the warmth and vibrancy of Pentos. During this time Daemon and you became closer, although some distance remained. Because you were a little older the subject of marriage became prevalent. Daemon is very picky about who your future husband will be, only a Valyrian will be accepted. When your half brothers are born you become closer to Daemon. Sometimes the two of you will play with the children in their nursery.

-Baby Aegon totted on his legs towards you .A few spaces away at your father, newborn Viserys on his lap. 'The babies are staying with us, right?' Daemon looked up from his youngest. 'Of course.' 'Oh. I just thought that you might send them to be fostered with their future betrotheds family.' Daemon looked at you confused. 'What gave you that impression?' Shrugging, you replied; 'Just what your doing with me.' Daemon only looked more bewildered. 'I...we have no intentions sending you away.' Daemon had no idea why you had this idea. What he did not understand was the empty pit widening in your soul. This feeling of loneliness that threatened to devour you. All your life you had felt like an extension of the Targaryen name. You did not realize how deeply your father loved you. While the gap had somewhat lessened over time there were still things left unsaid. Then Daemon, for reasons you did not know, he set Viserys in his crib and got up. In a moment he was by your side. In an unexpected motion Daemon brought you into a hug. Not merely one in greeting or goodbye, but along, warm one. Gently you rested your head on his shoulder.

-As war broke over Westeros the dynamic between Daemon and yourself changed. You were his youngest daughter, too young to fight. He may have pride but even Daemon balked at the idea of sending his youngest, untested daughter into war. In the past few years your relationship improved greatly. The two of you had grown closer. But was would rip the two of you apart, forever.

-It was already unsettling enough to send Baela out to war, and have Rhaena so far away. You were to remain at Dragonstone. Not completely out of loop but not at the front like Baela. It made you taste bitterness. Why could he not see you were ready! Now was the time you should be tested. Your father had gone on and on about Targaryen pride. But here you were as cupbearer. Of course he preferred Baela to you, to Rhaena. As your father got ready to take Harrenhal you were hiding by a window, too angry to speak. At these moments you felt no more than a sulky child. 'Y/n.' Startled, you got up to see your father, fully plated in armor, coming forward. 'I'm heading out.' 'I know.' You replied. Standing there you did not know whether to say goodbye. Silently you feared for him. War was an ugly thing. 'I will send for you when the time comes.' This surprised you. 'Really?' Daemon let the ghost of a smile come across his lips. 'You are my daughter. A Targaryen. You belong with us.' Tears welled up in your eyes. Deep down you think; 'One day I will tell father I love him.' This was the last time you would see your father.

Rhaenyra: (au where Rhaenyra wins the war, Visenya survives and is your older sister)

-Daemon felt rather old when you came into the world. You had been born well after they thought Rhaenyra past childbirth. He was not sure how he felt about this newest edition. Having another child was no bad thing, but he just felt too hold. Although Daemon was still in good health he was no longer a young man. His joints had started to ache from long years of battle. This did mean he spent lots of time with you. He watched his youngest roll around in her cradle. There was some joy to be found in reading to you. This continued as you grew, learning stories of your family and Old Valyria. Soehow this gave Daemon some peace, and the pair of you grew close.

-Daemon was no stranger to fatherhood. As a father of three girls and two boys (not including Rhaenyra's children) this new baby was no surprise. What had struck Daemon was how very old he was. Now in his fifties Daemon found it a bit astounding to be this old and a father. If fact Daemon never though he would reach such an age. Men as reckless as the King Consort rarely lived to see such an age. Yet here we was, older and with knees that already started to ache. In the cradle was his youngest and likely last child. Y/n was fast asleep, wrapped up in a blanket. Daemon was not a sort man, and perhaps not the warmest father. But he did love his children. One finger reached in and the baby's hand shot out. With all her little might Y/n grasped him. her wide eyes met his and she gave him a toothless grin. Something warm stirred in daemon's head. "I'm becoming a sort old fool.' Daemon thought.

-Daemon read by the fire as you dozed off in bed. This was your favourite part of the day. When night had fallen and you listened to his soft voice lull you to sleep. Tonight he read of Queen Rhaenys, second wife to King Aegon. Even though your mother and sister preferred Queen Visenya you always admired Rhaenys's love for the arts. Out of all her siblings Rhaenys loved her dragon Meraxes best. You had named your own dragon after hers. Mother has tried to talk you out of it but to no avail. Your father continued to read stories of Targaryens long gone.

-'This one." You demanded. It was the end of the day and Daemon had come up to read. Already you were in bed with a book one your lap. Daemon was pleased to see it was about House Targaryens, the best house in all the realm (totally not a biased opinion). Sitting down Daemon picked up the book and flipped to chapter one. 'Not there.' You passed several chapters until landing on the one titled "Queen Rhaenys". Aegon the Conqueror's second wife had never truly captured his attention, not that he had anything against her. But you were his little girl and Daemon was more willing to capitulate in his older ager.

-Despite his advanced age Daemon will expect you to be well educated. The best teachers will be found. You will learn history, Valyrian, astronomy, philosophy, writing and much more. He sees no reason for you being female as a reason a child of his should not be well read. You share classes with Visenya and sometimes Viserys and Aegon. Sometimes Daemon will ask you to show him what you have learned. His interests mainly lye in Valyrian history so he will ask you to show him what it is you have learned. When all his daily duties are finished Daemon will sometimes listen to you talk about everything you have read that day. Even if it is not things he is particularly interested in. As he gets older Daemon becomes more sentimental and focuses more on his family.

-A quiet afternoon was upon Kings Landing. Daemon had just gotten out of a long meeting and was glad for it. he was sore all over from sitting so long and walked, alone, to take the edge off. His walking did have an aim. Y/n, his youngest, would be out of the schoolroom by now. Loneliness was not a feeling Daemon was well acquainted with. But with Rhaenyra gone to the North and Visenya being a ward of House Baratheon, Daemon found himself lacking family members. Jacaerys and Baela had gone on tour in the West, Rhaena gone to see her Arryn friends. The other children were being wards elsewhere. daemon finally arrived outside the schoolroom. he remembered days when he and Viserys were sometimes tutored here. Just as he arrived Y/n burst out. 'Daddy!' Y/n gave her father a great hug. Daemon ruffled her messy hair before inquiring what she had learned today. As she chattered away they found themselves in the courtyard. Under the Weirwood they sat together. Sunlight beat down upon them, Daemon finally relaxed.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

A Different Kind of High

Tate Langdon x f!reader

warnings: use of marijuana, smut, p in v, unprotected, slight fingering, lose of virginity, slight innocence kink? lmk if there’s any others!!!

summary: you died a virgin, but that doesn’t mean you need to be one as a ghost…

word count: 1.9k

~~~

“I stole some weed from the newbies, you want some?” Tate asks as he hops up on what used to be your bed.

You’ve been dead for only a few months, living in the imfamous Murder House for a year prior. It was strange being dead, seeing people pass by on the street everyday knowing that’ll never be you again. You suppose this was what you deserved, after all you committed suicide. But never during your life did you think this was what being dead would be like. Trapped in a house with a dozen other ghosts for eternity.

Tate has been your friend since before you died, of course you didn’t know he was a ghost until you joined him on the other side. He’s charming, very down to Earth. You really don’t know much about him, even now. You’ve heard whispers about him being crazy, and you believe it. Sometimes through the night you hear his screams, his murderous laughter. It doesn’t bother you though. You’re already dead, what’s the worst he could do?

“I’ve never smoked before,” you reply.

He chuckles. “Are you serious?”

You turn red. “You saw my parents, they never let me do anything. When I used to go out they’d make me be back by nine. Even on weekends. I always figured they’d know so I didn’t bother.”

“At least tell me you’ve drank.” You shake your head, a small laugh escaping at the face Tate makes. “Have you done anything?”

“I kissed a boy when I was twelve,” you answer honestly.

“Was that your only kiss?”

“Yeah…” You mumble.

“Wow, I can’t believe you’re this innocent, I always thought girls with strict parents did the dirtiest things,” he replies. He grabs the baggie of weed out of his pocket and holds it up. “You’re going to try this, and you’re going to love it.”

You don’t object, and instead watch as Tate begins to role a joint. He does it effortlessly, he’s done it many times before. You know from previous conversations that he’s done drugs much stronger than weed, the main one being cocaine. You had asked him how it felt to do it, to be alive and on a drug so strong. He told you it felt like he needed to run a mile while he was high. He also made you promise to do it with him one day.

When he finishes rolling the joint he offers it to you. “You want the first hit?”

“Fuck it, yeah,” you say.

He gives you a smile that makes butterflies swirl in your stomach. Though the two of you are only friends, you can’t deny how attractive Tate is. Even though everythings only been platonic, sometimes with certain looks and phrases, he makes you feel some special type of way.

You take the joint inbetween your lips, your eyes locked on Tate. He grabs a lighter and lifts it to the other end of the joint.

“I’d usually say take a small hit, but usually it takes a little more to get us high so take as much as you think is necessary,” he explains before lighting the end.

You inhale deeply, the smoke it hot and you know if you were alive it would burn your lungs completely. Thankfully though, it only stings a little. After a few seconds Tate takes it from your lips and you exhale slowly, watching as he repeats your actions. You lean back against the pillows, you feel a little something.

“How long does it usually take to get high?” You ask.

“I dunno a few minutes I guess, why? Do you feel it?”

Your head feels light and the room looks brighter. “I think so, I feel… lighter.”

“Oh yeah, you’re high,” he replies with a laugh.

He lays beside you on the bed, both of you staring at the ceiling in silence. You hear him take a few more puffs of the joint, wondering how he does’t feel anything yet. Your whole body feels electrified, every muscle alive and thriving. You almost feel like how you did before you died, almost. It makes you smile.

“Why did I never try this before…” you mumble, a small laugh leaving your lips. “Fuck I feel good.”

“I know right, it’s pretty great.”

You turn your head and stare at him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He meets your gaze. “Of course.”

You don’t know where the sudden burst of honesty comes from. Usually, you’re embarrassed to talk about anything you did or more specifically didn’t do in your life. However, as you stare into Tate’s dark eyes you feel the urge to tell him every little detail about you.

“I died a virgin,” you whisper. “Like I never even got fingered or anything.”

You stare at each other for another few seconds before you both burst out into laughter. You don’t know why it’s so funny, but it is. You feel amazing, like you’re on top of the world. But you also feel like every word that comes out of your mouth is hilarious.

“I shouldn’t have said that I’m sorry,” you say as the laughter dies down. “I’m so stupid.”

“Hey, you aren’t stupid. I know a few other ghosts died virgins, like the nurses,” he replies, that stupid smirk on his face.

“God don’t say that!” You exclaim. “At least they chose to die virgins, I tried to hard to be fucked before I died but every time I started to become interested in someone my stupid parents ruined it.”

Tate props his head up on his hand so he’s now looking down at you. “Well on the brightside your parents are gone now so you can fuck anyone you want.”

“Yeah but the options aren’t exactly ideal. There’s really only Travis, but he’d definitely not be the best option for a first time,” you laugh.

“I’m here too you know.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“You know what I mean,” Tate answers, his voice quieter than before.

Your laughter stops at his words, and you meet his eyes once again. This time, you can sense something lingering behind his eyes, something you haven’t ever noticed before. You smile, trying to ease the tension that’s filled the room. He’s probably just messing with you. However, he doesn’t smile back at you, his expression stays the same.

You’re in disbelief. Is this real? Is your best friend really telling you he’d take your virginity? This can’t be real, you think. Maybe it’s just because of the weed, maybe it’s doing something to your head. You can’t deny the butterflies that form in your stomach at the thought of it though. Tate would be a good first. He’s experienced, but not with too many people. You find yourself suddenly imaging it, how it would feel, sharing that experience with someone you truly enjoy being around. It wouldn’t be so bad, you decide.

“All right,” You say. You kick your shoes off without breaking eye contact. “Is it going to hurt?”

He smirks and follows your actions. “It usually does the first time.”

You smile and start undoing the buttons on your jeans. You know if you hadn’t taken that puff of the joint you’d be selfconcious getting undressed in front of Tate. He watches you carefully as you remove your pants, your shirt, even your bra. It’s silent, but not an awkward silence, more of a comforting silence. You only look away from him as you slowly pull your panties off and throw them into the newly formed pile of your clothes.

It’s your turn to watch now. Your eyes trail up and down Tate’s body as he slowly undresses. He’s so beautiful, his body is perfect. You can’t stop yourself from reaching over and running your fingertips over the toned muscles of his abdomen. Your eyes meet once again and you almost shiver at how full his eyes have become with lust.

Quickly, he leans his head down and connects your lips to his. The kiss is slow at first, like you’re treading the water. But as you start to understand how it works, you move your lips against his, following his motions. The soft gentle kiss becomes full of passion. You twirl your fingers in his soft blond curls, loving the way his breathing gets heavier as you do so.

He moves on top of you, hit body fitting between your legs swiftly. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your skin feels like it needs to be touched. Tate rests one of his hands beside your head and the other begins to slide down your chest, your stomach, till it reaches the place it was searching for. You feel him smile into the kiss.

“So excited already…” he mumbles.

His fingers run between your folds, collecting the wetness that’s already begun to drip out of you. He circles them on your clit for a few minutes, making you moan from the new but amazing feeling. After that he slides his pointer finger down to your entrance.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Thank you?” He chuckles. He begins to slowly push his finger inside you and you grab his free arm.

“Thank you for doing this,” you clarify.

“I like how innocent you are, but I can’t lie I’ve always dreamt of being the one to rip that innocence away,” he whispers.

Before you can reply he lowers his head to your neck and begins to leave sloppy kisses along your skin. You can’t believe this is really happening. Once his finger is fully inside you, he starts to thrust it in and out at a slow pace. You moan, your back arching off the matress. He continues this for a few minutes before adding a second, preparing you perfectly for what’s going to come next.

He kisses down your chest until he’s at your breasts. He sucks and licks your nipples, it feels amazing. You can’t take it any longer, you need him. You grab his chin and connect your lips. He kisses you harder than before, biting and sucking your tongue into his mouth. You love it. You can’t get enough of it.

“I’m ready Tate,” you say breathlessly as your lips part. “I want to do it.”

“All right.” He pulls his fingers out of you and you watch him position his hard dick on your entrance. He looks down at you, brushing a piece of hair away from your face. “If it hurts to bad just tell me and I’ll stop okay?”

You nod, and before you can say anything else he starts to move. It hurts, but not too bad. Tate kisses you as he does this, it makes the pain more bearable. You wrap one of your hands around his back, your nails slowly dragging across the skin of Tate’s back. He only kisses you harder. His thrusts are slow, but your thighs still clench around his hips.

After a few minutes he asks if he can go faster, you tell him yes. The pain slowly morphed into a small pleasure that you enjoy. You continue to claw at his back, even more as his pace inscreases. You’re out of breath, the only sounds in the room being your moans along with Tate’s heavy breathing. It’s pure bliss.

The end comes faster than you want, but you don’t mind. You love the way Tate whispers your name as he cums, and how strongly his dick pulses inside you. You hold him close after it’s over, his skin against yours makes you feel alive again.

“Was it okay?” he asks as he lays on you.

“It was perfect,” you answer.

And so it was.

[therealcocoshady]

Love Game - Part 3

A/N : After MONTHS of waiting… here is Love Game pt3 ! For those of you who weren’t there, you can find the first 2 chapters in the Masterlist (pinned post on my blog !).

If it weren’t for Denaun and his wisdom, you would have told Marshall to go to hell. Or rather, you would have sent him there yourself. After all, you weren’t exactly short on ideas how to kill him. You went over them in great detail as you vented to Denaun about his friend’s audacity. This lack of trust and complete disregard for the friendship you’d shared was enough for you to consider raising that baby on your own, but your best friend advised you against it. « We both know you’d come to regret your decision, Y/N » he said calmly over dinner, trying to level with you. You looked at him, crossing your arms, frankly pissed that he was siding with Marshall. « Oh, so you think it’s ok that he called me a slut?! Me, the mother of his child ?!» you asked with a glare. Denaun shook his head again, not backing down. « I’m not saying it’s ok. What I’m saying is : you’re a great mom and you want what’s best for this baby. And you do want them to know their father, don’t you? ». His tone was extremely calm, and he was annoyingly good at making valid points that didn’t go your way. « Well, if he thinks I’m such a whore, I don’t see why he would want to co-parent anyway » you mumbled.

It was clear that you were hurt, and that the few weeks that had passed since the confrontation hadn’t done anything to soften the blow. Denaun seemed to understand it, as he took your hand and looked not your eyes. « You have every reason to be mad. Hell, if you need me to say it out loud, I will : he’s an asshole. But you know as much as I do that, once he has proof that you’re carrying his baby, he will be a good father for this child. And your little one deserves to grow up, knowing who their dad is. It’s all about the baby». You looked down and nodded. As much as you wanted to make a point and prove that, if need be, you’d be an excellent single mom. But ultimately, he was right : it wasn’t about you. It was about the little one. You grabbed his hand and gave him a smile, full of gratitude. « Thank you, Nauny. I don’t know about the dad, but the baby is very lucky to have you as an uncle ». He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and looked into your eyes with the utmost seriousness. « I’ll always be there for you, Y/N. Both of you ».

You weren’t sure whether it was the hormones or just a regular emotional reaction to his kindness, but you couldn’t help the tears from welling in your eyes. « I don’t know what I would do without you, Nauny » you sighed. « You know… Sometimes, I wish you were the father ». He stared at you, staying silent for a couple of seconds. « Yeah, well… I’m not the one you took home that night » he sighed. You nodded, rolling your eyes. « That’ll teach me. No more fucking around with friends » you hummed before taking another bite of your burger, rather oblivious to the look of despair on your friend’s face.

A week later, the results came in : as predicted, the baby was, indeed, Marshall’s. To be fair, you had absolutely no doubt whatsoever regarding the matter. If they’d been any different, you would have been quick to fly to the Vatican and ask for an audience with the Pope so that your name was officially added to the Bible. You weren’t exactly fond of the idea of talking to Marshall directly so you arranged for the results to be sent to him in the mail, not even bothering with a letter or note. After all, the results spoke for themselves and all that was left was for him to eat his words. That same day, he called you and, though you debated for a quick second, you ended up taking the call. « Hey. It’s me. I, um…. I got the results » he said. « Right » you said in a tone that was as neutral as you could muster. « Are you… Are you free on Friday? We should talk. » he hummed rather awkwardly. « There’s nothing special to say for now, Marshall » you replied. « That baby isn’t due for another 22 weeks. Somehow, I don’t think there’s much for you to do, right now». You heard him let out a loud sigh on the other end of the line, and you could tell he was trying really hard not to go off on you. « We’re going to be parents. Both of us. Together. I think it’s actually important that we have a talk. So that we can… Prepare » he explained. You stayed silent for a couple of seconds, debating whether or not you were in the mood to do the right thing. But ultimately, the rational part of you brain, in which Denaun’s words were still echoing, ended up winning. « As you wish. My place. Friday. 6PM. Don’t be late ».

When Friday came around, you were thankful that Denaun had agreed to be with you. Somehow, you figured that the mention of you murdering Marshall was what convinced him, rather than the excuse of you needing emotional support. You knew your friend wasn’t keen on being caught in the middle of you and your baby daddy but, as much as you wished there was a way you could spare him, he was the person closest to you, the only one you confided in. When Marshall walked into your apartment and saw Denaun, he immediately froze. As far as you knew, they were on good terms, but he clearly wasn’t expecting him there. He quickly dapped him and looked at you with a confused frown. « You asked him here? » he asked in disbelief. You had promised Denaun that you’d be on your best behavior but you couldn’t help but clap back. « Well, unlike some people, Denaun has been here from the start. I trust him when it comes to the important decisions » you replied coldly. You could see Denaun stare at you disapprovingly, silently telling you off. Marshall sighed and shrugged. « Well, since we’re getting straight to the point… I have paperwork for us to go over » he said.

Your eyes opened a little wider. Paperwork. Seriously ? You gestured for him to sit on the couch and waited, as he handed you a small stack of paper. The first form was a non-disclosure agreement. As soon as you saw the title, you handed it back to him, absolutely refusing to have anything to do with it. « First you doubt my honesty and now what ? You decide to keep the baby a secret ?! » you exclaimed before turning to Denaun. « I gave it a try, Nauny. I really did. But if you think I’m going to-» you began yelling before Marshall interrupted you. « Will you just shut up and fucking read before you start screaming? » he asked in exasperation before continuing. « It’s not about keeping the baby a secret. I mean, of course, I want them to have privacy but I’m not going to hide the fact that they’re mine ! Who do you think I am ? Drake ?! It’s just standard procedure, so that nothing about our relationship as co-parents ends up in the media. My lawyers insisted ». You glared at him and took another look at the NDA. « Of course. You questioned my honesty in the first place. Why wouldn’t you think I’m after money ? » you scoffed. He stared at you in silence and rolled his eyes. « Again. Lawyers. Not me. Not that you care » he sighed, before glancing at Denaun. « I don’t know how or even why you put up with her. She’s fucking crazy » he mumbled. Your friend crossed his arms and looked at the two of you. « Stop. Both of you. You’re acting like children. You’re grown-ass adults, about to have a kid together, have some shame ! Marshall, you better show Y/N some respect. She’s carrying your baby ! And you, Y/N, you need to stop painting him as a villain. You guys obviously liked each other enough to mess around in the first place. So how about you show some of that appreciation when it comes to dealing with the consequences ?! » he thundered.

Both you and Marshall stared at him in silence, obviously not used to any outburst coming from Denaun. You stared down, while Marshall glanced sideways. « Now, I’m going to let you handle this as grownups and future parents. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen. And I better not hear any yelling » he threatened before leaving the room. The silence remained for a couple of minutes, before Marshall let out a sigh. « Look, it’s just… I told Paul about the baby, alright ? And he figured that paperwork might help figure out things. If it’s any comfort, it also states I’m not allowed to slander you or mention you in any track. And the rest… it’s just formalities. Like ensuring my name is on the birth certificate, making sure I have a legal right to see the baby, and that I give you child support » he calmly explained. You looked at him and nodded. « Alright » you said as you started to peruse the forms. « Denaun’s right, you know ? We need to act like… adults » he hummed, to which you nodded. « I know. It’s just not easy when the other co-parent pisses you off » you quietly replied. « But I suppose we’ll need to get used to it ». He let out a chuckle and leaned back in the couch as you read the forms. « Yeah, I guess ». When you finished going through the paperwork, you looked at him and sighed. « So… that’s what you wanted to do ? Paperwork? » you asked. « Mostly. I also wanted to know how you were doing. If the baby’s ok, or if you need something » he said. You hummed quietly, wondering if it your interactions would always have the same clinical and official undertone from now on. « Let’s see… Still nauseous but it’s definitely better. Craving for Italian, lately, if that’s of any interest. And, um… I have another ultrasound coming up. Other than that, that’s pretty much it » you reviewed. He thoughtfully nodded, as if he were making some mental note, though you weren’t too sure how that might concern him directly.

You made small talk for a bit and ended up calling Denaun back to the living room. As he walked in, he stared at both you and Marshall with a stern look on his face, much like a parent willing to make sure their kids had behaved as directed. « Everything alright? » he asked in an inquisitive tone. Both of you glanced at each other and nodded. « Yeah we’re good », Marshall assured him. « I should probably get going. Do you want to come by the studio later ? I’ve got beats ». Your friend looked at you and scratched the back of his head. « I would have loved to, man, but we made reservations for that Italian place Y/N is obsessed with, these days » he replied apologetically. Marshall paused for a second and hummed. « Right. Well… see you around, Y/N. And uh… you’ll call me if you need anything, right? ». You nodded and gave him a tentative smile. « I mean, sure. But unless you’re willing to hold my hair when I puke, I don’t think there’s much for you to do, you know? » you replied. He stared at you intently, his eyes going from your face to your belly, and shrugged. « Well, yeah, but… I don’t know. Like… if you have updates ? » he asked awkwardly.

The whole thing seemed haphazard. If a stranger were to walk in the room, they wouldn’t have been able to tell you and Marshall had ever been so… intimate. In that moment, it felt like you were two strangers learning to communicate. You but your lip, the realization being rather painful. After all, before all of this, he had been one of your favorite people on earth. Why he had turned his back on you this way, you weren’t too sure… but now, you didn’t have much choice, and you needed to do your best to mend things. Even though it felt like you weren’t at fault. You gave him a smile before grabbing an envelope from your handbag. « I don’t know if you… uh… I can show you the latest ultrasound if you’d like? » you offered. At your words, his eyes opened a little wider and he blinked even faster than usual. « Yeah. Ok. » he nodded. He got closer and you showed him the closest thing you had to a picture of your baby. You tentatively pointed the shadows on it. « So, here, there’s the head. And over there, that’s an arm » you explained. He seemed kind of fascinated by it, much to your surprise. « That’s really crazy » he whispered. You could see a smile form on Denaun’s face as he encouraged you, while Marshall was focused on the picture. « Do you want to keep it? » you offered. « Can I? » Marshall asked. « Yeah, sure. I have copies ». He grabbed the picture from your hand and carefully placed it in his pocket, before staring at you. « Thanks, Y/N » he said in a solemn tone. He leaned forward and, for a second, you almost thought he was going to hug you or kiss your cheek. But instead, he patted your shoulder in a way that made you wonder if he had actually ever interacted with a human being before. You even noticed Denaun raising an eyebrow. He went to dap Denaun and, before he left, you had to ask an important question.

« Uh, Marshall ? » you called as he stepped in the hallway. « Yeah? » he asked. « You… you said you were going to legally acknowledge the baby as yours, right? » you questioned nervously, to which he nodded, as if the answer was evident. « I mean, yeah. I think it’s what’s best » he replied, visibly wondering where this was getting. You thoughtfully hummed and bit your lip. « So…don’t you think we should tell the other guys in the group as well? ».

[actuallysaiyan]

Une Belle HistoireIII(Mafia!Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, blood mention, violence, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, abusive/neglectful parent, angst, fluff, marriage proposal, pregnancy mention, smoking, drug/alcohol mention word count: 4.1k pairings: Mafia!Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Reader summary: you long to be with Toshinori. he busies himself with work, but it doesn't take away the pain of not having you. when you two reunite, you both know that you have to tell the world that you're in love. you two ride off in the sunset, happy ever after. a/n: here is the third instalment of "Une Belle Histoire"! Thank you all for reading this wonderful little fic. More to come for these two, but this concludes the official story for these two. art in the banner from the wonderful artist(freesilverwind) special thanks to @thoraeth and the prominence smashers for cheering me on and to thoraeth for drawing such a beautiful piece of art to showcase mafia!Toshi.

dividers: @adornedwithlight

taglist: @thissaintjessi.  @cherryblossombankai, @sunflowers-heart,  @erebus-et-eigengrau

@pixelcafe-network

Living without the man who captured your heart felt like painting without colors and passion. Everything seemed so dull and so melancholic. It felt like the energy had been sapped from you completely. You wondered if you would ever feel alive again.

Throughout this entire ordeal, you had to deal with wedding preparations. But who wants to see such a sad woman get married? You were always crying these days. You hide it successfully from your father and from your groom, Hitoshi. You wanted to like him; he was sweet, kind, patient and even handsome. But he wasn’t Toshinori. He could never make your heart race the way your big buff blond lover had done.

Not to mention the fact that you were no longer a virgin. You craved Toshi’s hands on your body. You woke up late in the night, covered in sweat and slick leaking between your thighs, recalling the dream you just had about your lover. You wondered if he was missing you just as well as you missed him.

Every wet dream, every memory of that day, every thought of your man was pure torture. Hitoshi remained mostly in the dark, though he figured your preoccupied ways must be due to your nerves with the upcoming wedding. It was coming way too soon. Just the thought of belonging to someone else other than the person you truly loved had your stomach in knots every single day.

And Toshinori, on his end…things weren’t anymore sunny than they were on your side. He kept replaying the last night he saw you. Fuck, he was beating himself up over it. He should have swallowed his pride and fought for you. He was planning on making things right for you and him. Toshinori had thought about talking to your father, but it would only make things worse.

So he busies himself with lots of missions. Every time he gets to fight someone, he pretends that he’s beating down the man who’s going to marry you. Sure, maybe that man doesn’t deserve that, but he doesn’t deserve you. Nobody could love you the way Toshinori can.

His heart ached in his chest when he lay in bed at night. He clutches a pillow to his chest, tears sliding down his cheeks. He doesn’t even remember the last time he cried. Especially considering it’s about another person. It’s such an emotionally charged time and he wants to tear everything and everyone to pieces if it means he can get to you quicker and sooner.

The anger that rages inside of his heart cannot be calmed by copious amounts of booze, drugs and cigarettes. It cannot even be calmed by the random sex with a pretty stranger. Toshinori can’t even bring himself to touch another woman. The thought alone has him shuddering. You are his woman and he will find a way to be with you again.

Yet every time he thinks about that night, he realizes that maybe he’s truly fucked everything up. He just left you without giving you the chance to properly talk things through. Every time he thinks about that moment when he climbed down your balcony and how you called out for him, his heart breaks into tiny little pieces. The thought of your father berating you for this too…it was killing him inside.

Forever you’d be a caged bird. You’d never get to have your choices. You’d never have the chance to decide for yourself. The thought of you being locked away in that house without the chance to leave and fly outside like the free little thing you’re supposed to be…it kills Toshinori inside. He wants to do everything to get to you, but he also knows that coming to you could make things worse.

And when he heard you were supposed to get married, it only fueled the rage deep inside of him even worse. He goes on drinking benders. Never does he hook up. No, no…he won’t do that. Not to you. Not to his little lover. The woman who touched his heart. The one who called his tattoos beautiful. The one who laughed and giggled at his corny jokes. The one who looked into his eyes and saw him. The real him. The true person who resides inside the tough guy shell.

Every night is pure torture for the both of you. And every day that you wake up, it’s another day closer to the wedding to a man who you don’t even love. Hitoshi isn’t bad to you, but he’s not and never will be Toshinori. He’ll never make you feel like you’re truly alive.

Your father is very happy with you. He’s happy to see you marrying into a good family. You’ll be in good hands. You’ll give him grandchildren like he wants. To him, you are just a means to continue his legacy. That’s all you’ll ever be to him and to everyone else. A means to an end. You’re not even a real person.

Stricken with sadness and a rage that nobody can calm, Toshinori goes out of town for a while. He decides to go take his anger out on something he knows he can fix. A rival family has decided to take things into their own hands when it comes to a territory dispute and with Toshinori being the eldest son of the Yagi family, he knows he’s got to go take good care of this.

With every impact of his fist against their faces, the more he realizes how wrong he was to leave you like that. It was going to eat him up inside every second he’s away from you. The thought of you marrying some other man, it wouldn’t do anything but pierce his heart over and over. Toshinori beats up all these men, but it’s not fixing what’s going on inside his heart and his mind. It’s not even close to repairing the hurt that’s tormenting within him.

When he’s done with the mission and letting the rival family know that the Yagis mean business, he finally decides what he has to do. He knows that he has to go see you. Even if it means seeing your father and finally confessing everything, it would be worth it. To see your face again and to feel your touch again, it’s going to make everything better.

He makes his way back to your place, his heart pounding in his chest. He wants to smell your beautiful floral perfume. Toshi would kill a man to see your smile. The sound of your laughter would be a salve for his poor broken heart right now.

As he nears your home, he notices that the light in your bedroom is on. He climbs the balcony…

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

There’s commotion on your balcony. As much as you wish for it to be Toshinori, you figure it wouldn’t never be him again. You had just come back from your dress fitting. One of the last ones. The days were coming faster and faster and you were pushing away your pain and guilt away. 

The memories of him being in your bed just so little ago, it makes you feel like your whole life was being thrown away. Why couldn’t you both just get together and talk it out? You should be talking it out. You should be getting fucked senseless by the man who took your virginity and who took your heart and never let it go.

There’s a crash against the door. You stand there in your pink dress and white thigh-highs and you suddenly feel so vulnerable. What if it’s someone trying to kidnap you? You find the courage somehow and open the door. Your eyes widen when you see who’s there.

He’s drunk, a cigarette between his lips. His hands are bloody and bruised. His leather jacket barely hangs off his frame as he collapses to his knees. And with a gentle tug, he’s wrapping his arms around you. The blood smears on your naked thighs, but you don’t care. You don’t have the words to describe just how happy you are. Instead, you let your actions speak for you.

You pull him to rest his face against your tummy. He’s clinging to you, the cigarette still lit between his lips. You gently caress his face, holding him to your body as close as you can. You swear you’d let him meld into you if you could. It’s just not enough to be this close and not physically one with him.

“I was an asshole,” he finally says in a shaky voice. “I left you when you needed me the most.”

“No, Toshinori. I was stupid. I shouldn’t have let him speak for me.”

He looks up at you from his position on his knees. He pushes the skirt of your dress up over your hips, and he places his face between your thighs. The more he can smell your scent, the more Toshinori becomes intoxicated with just the thought of you. You are the one he desires.

“I never…didn’t sleep with anyone. Didn’t kiss anyone…I was loyal and faithful.” He promises to you.

“I didn’t do anything with him.” You’re talking about Hitoshi of course. “But…the wedding is coming so fast.”

Toshinori’s eyes burn with a passion for you. He’ll figure something out. He doesn’t care what he has to do, but you will not be marrying Hitoshi. Toshi then gets up on his feet, tossing his cigarette off the balcony. He’s towering over you, but you feel so safe with him.

“I…” he stutters for a moment. “I fuckin’ love you.”

Before you can even react or say anything, he pulls you into a hungry and sloppy kiss. He eagerly pushes you towards the bed and when you fall onto it, he begins to kiss your neck.

“I’ve been needing you. Can’t sleep without feeling your sweet touch,” he grunts as he helps you out of your dress.

There you lay, your white socks and the tops of your thighs stained with the blood that had stained his knuckles. You look so beautiful, divine even. Toshinori attacks your lips with yours, frantically kissing you like he’s never kissed you before. You’re the air that he needs to breathe. He’s never ever felt this way about anyone before.

“I’ve been needing you too.” You confess, running your fingers through his hair.

“Yeah?” He asks, a little out of breath.

You nod. “Been having dreams about you…”

Your cheeks are pink and your lips are parted as you pant softly. You look like a painting right now. Toshinori smirks before he begins to kiss you hungrily once more. His hands are all over you, pulling your panties down your body. He loves the way you’re so wet for him already.

“Fuck,” he spreads your thighs and kisses your mound. “Been missing this little pussy.”

The minute his tongue runs through your folds, you’re trying your best not to cry out in ecstasy. Your little clit twitches with each pass of his tongue until he wraps his lips around the little bud. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair, and you’re practically humping his face now. Toshinori is in heaven as you grind against his mouth.

“Love you,” he mumbles as he laps at you like you’re his oasis in the desert. “Love you so much.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and the coil in your stomach is so tight. The more he says that he loves you, the closer you get to your orgasm. A few more laps of his tongue and you’re sent over the edge with a little squeal of his name.

“I fuckin’ love you too…forever.”

This sets him off like nothing else. He keeps your legs spread, feasting on you like you are the only thing he ever wants to taste ever again. Toshinori begins to rut against the mattress as he licks and sucks on your cute little cunt. You’re dripping your sweet nectar into his mouth, making him even harder than he was before. As he pulls orgasm after orgasm from you, he realizes he needs to be buried deep inside of you.

It takes him seconds to pull off his jeans. You look up at him like he’s the only thing in this world that matters to you, and in this moment, he is the only thing. The only one. The one who’s captured your heart and you never want him to let it go. You want him to keep it for himself. It’s a treasure that you are willing to part with but only to give it to him.

Toshinori teases your already aching clit with the fat head of his cock. He loves the way you squirm and whine for him. Something about this makes him feel so powerful. He would never use this against you, no, but he loves the way he can make you squirm just for him. 

“Do you want me?” His voice is rough and husky.

“I need you.” You beg him.

With one thrust, he’s bottomed out in you. This has you panting and moaning, reaching out to cling to him in an attempt to ground yourself. Toshinori leans in to kiss you, his own moans melting with yours. The feeling of your walls clamping down around him has him reeling. There’s nothing better than being deep inside of you like this. His hands find yours and he intertwines his fingers with yours as he begins thrusting into you.

“I’ll never let you go. I won’t be an asshole again,” he murmurs against your skin. “I’ll always be by your side.”

Your heart flutters in your chest as you hear his declaration of love to you. The man who you thought was rough around the edges is actually a big softie underneath it all. And you know for a fact that you must be one of the only people who get to see this beautiful side of him. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him in even closer.

“I don’t wanna marry him, Toshi…” You whine.

He hushes you with another kiss. “You’re not gonna marry him, doll. No, no…you’ll be marrying me.”

This has you moaning softly. The thought of being his wife has you even more turned on. The thought of walking down the aisle in the beautiful dress you have picked out just to see Toshinori at the altar, it does something to you. It makes you feel closer to your release.

“Hmmm, you like that, dontcha?” Toshinori teases. “Wanna be my pretty bride, kitten?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes…please, make me your wife.”

He loves the sound of you begging to be his wife. He’s never felt this connected with another human being before. You see him for who he is, and goddammit, you still want to be his wife. The love you have for him is unconditional and it makes him feel so good and so desired.

He pulls you closer to him, capturing your lips in a very sweet kiss. It’s tender and loving, and it says everything that he can’t quite put into words. It’s a promise that you belong to him and he belongs to you. Nothing will ever tear you apart again. Nothing could come between the two of you now.

His hands soothe down your body and he begins to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. The way you look when you come undone is a look he wants to keep ingrained in his mind for all eternity. You cry out his name with so much love, he doesn’t care if you two get caught. He’ll always fight for you.

Toshinori falls off the edge with a deep, throaty grunt of your name. He spills his thick seed deep inside of you, leaving you feeling so warm and so full. Slowly, he slumps against you and you begin to play with his hair. You’re everything to him and he’s not going to fuck this up this time.

“Stay the night?” You ask, your tone practically begging him.

“Doll, I’m staying forever.” He smirks up at you.

He pulls out of you, pulling you to his chest. In the silence of the night, the two of you seem to tell each other how much you mean to one another through your little actions. You trace your fingers over his tattoos and he rubs your back. Even though things aren’t perfect and nothing’s really resolved, you know that you won’t ever be alone ever again.

“I meant what I said.” He whispers. “I love you and you’re mine. I won’t leave you alone again.”

You kiss him. “I love you too, Toshi.”

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

The next morning, you don’t wake up alone. Toshinori is snuggled up against you, his erection poking your ass. You giggle sleepily as you feel him pulling you even closer to him. You’re so happy he didn’t leave. In your bed, under the covers, that’s where you two belong right now.

“Mmm…” he mumbles as he presses kisses to your neck.

“Horny?” You ask softly, pressing your ass against him.

He doesn’t reply, he just plays with your pussy as he rocks his hips against you. The feeling of being so wanted and desired like this has you both on cloud nine. You’re dribbling all over his fingers, making him grunt softly.

Toshinori’s slipping into you from behind, moaning as you make him feel so warm. His arm wraps around you as he takes you a little sloppier than last night. It takes so little for you to cum for him and he follows you over the edge. He kisses you all over your neck and shoulder, keeping you close to him as his seed begins to leak out of you.

“Fuck,” he groans. “At this rate, gonna make you a mommy.”

The words make you clamp down around him again. He chuckles and nips at your earlobe. You being aroused at just the thought of being his wife and mother of his children is so sexy. He loves that just simple things like that make you so horny.

“Oh you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” He asks, practically purring for you.

“Shush…” you try to change the subject, but he loves your reaction.

He’s about to say something when there’s a knock on your door. Dread and panic flood your system but the way that Toshinori clings to you allows you to calm down. You call out for whoever it is. It’s your maid, and she’s telling you that your fiance is downstairs waiting for you. You thank her and let her know you’ll be down in a few minutes. When her footsteps are out of earshot, you turn to face your lover.

“What do I do now?” You ask.

He cups your cheeks and kisses you. “Let me handle this.”

The two of you get up and get dressed. Toshinori helps you pick out such a cute outfit. And then the two of you leave your room together, hand in hand. It’s such a stressful moment. You know that everything could go wrong, but you can no longer lie to anyone anymore.

Hitoshi and your father await you in the living room. Your father looks very angry, his arms crossed over his chest and his face is red. Hitoshi looks relieved almost in a way. He looks like finally he can face the true version of you.

“So this is him,” Hitoshi starts. “This is the man you’re in love with.”

You nod and try to explain yourself, but Hitoshi smiles and quiets you. You’re surprised that he’d have such a calm reaction to all of this. You know that maybe you shouldn’t have led him on like this, but this whole idea wasn’t yours.

“I thought I told you to stay away from this man!” Your father snarls and Toshinori is quick to push you behind him.

“She’s allowed to choose who she wants to be with.” Toshinori challenges. “Have you thought about asking her what she wants?”

“She’s my only daughter! Every choice I make for her is for her best interest! And you certainly aren’t it!”

Hitoshi sighs and he looks at your father with pleading eyes. Someone else is finally on your side. It’s such a breath of fresh air to have someone else in your court for once. Hitoshi then looks at you.

“I knew you didn’t want to marry me. Your heart wasn’t in it, and I couldn’t be happy knowing I was keeping you from someone else.”

Your eyes widen. “How did you know?”

Hitoshi laughs, “I know when someone is in love. That morning that you first met me, you were still longing for this man.”

He turns to Toshinori and smiles. Toshinori continues to keep you mostly behind him, ready to fight in case this is a trap. But with the way Hitoshi smiles and keeps his tone calm, Toshinori figures that this could be real.

“I won’t keep her away from you. She’s all yours.”

Your father is about to say something, but you look at him with sadness in your eyes. He knows that he can’t keep you away from the one you love, but he wishes he could shield you from the danger in this world. 

“Father,” you begin. “Ever since I was a little girl and mom died, I’ve listened to your every word. But this has stunted my growth as a human.”

He looks away ashamed. “Everything I did was for you. I tried to keep you safe.”

“But you kept her from her own choices in life! She’s a bird with her wings clipped!” Toshinori interjects.

Both men are now glaring at one another. There’s an impasse here, but your father finally begins to cry. He feels guilty for the things he’s done, even if he considered them the right things to do to make sure that you’d be safe for life. He reaches for your hands.

“I just wanted you to have a happy life. Your mother…she would want you to be happy too. And if you love him, then please…go with him. You have my blessing.”

He gets on his knees, begging you for forgiveness. You don’t know how to react other than to caress his hair. You’ve never seen your father in this position before. It’ll take a lot more than tears to fix the relationship, but you know you can’t leave him in this state.

“I forgive you,” you begin. “But I will not forget the things you’ve done. You’ll have time to think about how to make it up to me.”

He looks up at you and dries his tears. Perhaps it’s not the ending he wanted, but it’s the start of something new. You seem even more confident with this man at your side. Maybe your father had been so quick to judge him and hadn’t seen the way he was a good influence on you.

“I’m going to be marrying Toshinori.” You proclaim.

And nobody has anything else to add to the conversation. It was settled. Your marriage to Hitoshi was being called off and you’d finally make your own destiny. It would be in your two hands and you could make any choice you wanted.

Toshinori smirks at you, happy that you finally had the courage to speak up for yourself. He loves the way you look right now, proud and free. He’ll continue to stick up for you if you need him to, and he’ll love you forever. 

Then the two of you head up to your room, packing a suitcase and vowing to come back for some of the other things in the next couple of weeks. You rush down the stairs, ready to get on Toshinori’s bike once more.

The revving of the engine and the smell of gasoline is what has your heart racing. You get on the back of the bike, your suitcase tucked away properly. You wave to your father and Hitoshi before pulling on your helmet. Toshinori speeds off onto the road, his intentions are to bring you outside of the city.

And when the two of you are in the park where he took your virginity, Toshinori pulls out a little velvet box. Inside is a gorgeous diamond engagement ring. He smiles genuinely when you say yes to his proposal.

“This is my promise to you,” he says. “My promise to continue to love you until my dying breath, and then more.”

“And I promise you the same.”

The sun sets as you two share a tender, loving kiss.

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2025– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[wndaswife]

hi! sorry i keep having dark!mommy!wanda thoughts where she's your parents' neighbor and can't help but notice how most times you're all alone in your house while away from college and keep making yourself useful tending to house chores and offering help to her and other neighbors...

she keeps fantasizing about you and your eagerness to please and how she would use you whenever and she would keep you in bed all day...

she flirts and is very touchy with you but you don't think much of it, you don't really think of her in that way, specially since she's older than you and a divorced mom with joint custody,

during one of her visits to your house she tries to make a move and steals a kiss from your lips and both of you are shocked and you go all red and she can tell you're so so confused but she apologizes and pretends everything is fine and you don't know what to think so you go on with your life, although the kiss keeps replaying in your mind over and over.

one day she finally gets what she wants, she invited you over and all day she's doting and so so sweet and keeps touching you and you feel fuzzy and bubbly and you don't know what's happening until she holds your hands and leads you to her bedroom but you're just so dumbed down that you don't think much of it until you feel her hand in your panties, you try to cling to reason and refuse her advances but by then it's to late, she forces you to look at her while she pumps her fingers into you and orders you to tell her you love it when she's rough and how you want more, to the point where you start to believe it and she goes feral when she sees no thoughts behind your eyes, after you cum on her fingers she lays you on your tummy and spanks you for making a mess of mommy's sheets and makes you apologize over and over again, but you're gushing and your pussy is making the filthiest noices and you keep saying sorry and how you deserve whatever punishment mommy gives and suddenly you're cumming all over again.

Wanda is so proud but pretends to be disappointed and determines that she should fuck such a dirty slut with her strap because you clearly need to be filled, and she makes you say it, beg her to give you her cock because you need it and want to be breed by her, you didn't know such treatment and dirty talk could turn you on so much but you can't really think at the moment and just nod and take it.

Wanda fucks you so rough and slaps you several times asking you to tell her how much you love it and how she's the only one you want and your pussy is hers to use however she wants

Your so broken and dumb and you're cumming so hard you really can't think when she tells you to tell her you love her, and you do, so now that's all you can say and all she wants to hear, you love her, you love her with her cock inside you, you love her when she's spanking you, you love her touches, you love her when she dumbs you down and you love your mommy so much when she fucks you because you know she needs it.

She keeps using you all night and telling you she loves you and how she can't wait to train you to be her perfect little girl and you're exhausted but can't help to nuzzle into your mommy and confess that you don't want to leave her

even as she holds you tight you keep repeating that you love her and she kisses you and gives you her boobs so you can suck her nipples and drift to sleep like that...

(anyways hope you're having a great day 😀)

- rouge

THIS IS SO DEPRIVED OF YOU….. this is soooo detailed

i love how even tho she’s so rough n dark she’s soooo doting and obsessed with you, always calling you such a good girl n all

imagine while she’s fingering u and overstimulating you and having you confess to being a dirty slut, she’s hugging you against her so you can feel mommy close n her face is so close to yours that you can feel her warm breath on your chin while she’s mocking you for whimpering and saying it’s too much and when you call degrade yourself

and the look in her eyes when you can finally open your own to see her needing you so badly, her very gaze just driven mad with desire while she watches you, scrutinizes you, all because she thinks you’re just the sweetest, cutest, most fragile thing

[witchezandwonderz]

Aemond x Reader headcanons

Masterlist

The day that you were taken in by the Targaryens was admittedly, one of the worst days of your life. Your parents had been killed, whom were very close friends of Viserys- he made a vow to take care of you and raise you after the brutal attack. You were young, and therefore struggled to be grateful to any of the people who surrounded you- you just wanted your family back.

Aemond kept his distance from you initially, he had tried to comfort you, but you were a child and did not make it easy for him. Your tongue was sharp, and you used extremely colourful language to express how much you wanted to be left alone. He, also a child, did not understand your anger and took it personally.

You watched Aemond get his eye cut out, which disgusted you terribly. You had watched, terrified as he nearly killed lucerys, and then watched, terrified as lucerys covered him with sand and slit his eye. You grabbed Aemond and ran, as fast as your small frame could, while supporting him as you heard him scream in pain.

As you both grew older, so did your fondness for one another. Despite your differing personalities, you took comfort in him. You spent your evenings with each other, neither one of you wanted to admit your romantic feelings but neither of you needed too. You both enjoyed being in the moment too much.

When you heard of Lucerys death, Aemond promised you that he had nothing to do with it. But then the truth came to light, and you found it difficult to look him. He pleaded with you, telling you that he deserved it, an eye for an eye he said, but you did not think that an eye for a life was fair.

You felt selfish to forgive him, but you did. You loved him more than anything, and that all came rushing out of your mouth on one freezing cold evening. You had both finished dinner and retreated to his quarters- unbeknownst to Alicent, who was not fully aware of your nightly encounters. She knew that the two of you were close, however did not realise quite how close. You felt unbelievably anxious when you told him, for you were scared to ruin whatever it was that you had. He did not reply with words, but instead kissed you- softly at first, but when he realised that you wanted it as much as him, the kiss quickly turned passionate.

The night that he first bedded you was magical, he had put candles around the room and made sure that both of your first times would be special. It is funny to think that others would brand Aemond as a harsh, cruel and wicked person, whereas you see him as sweet, kind and thoughtful. You were okay with that though, he was yours, and you did not need anyone else to see the true him.

The day that Aemond told his mother that he wished to marry you was an awkward one. He had barged into one of the council meetings, one that he was late for and demanded to speak to his mother in private. Alicent refused, stating that if he had anything to say he could say it in front of the council- she regretted that. Initially, she refused the idea, but when Aemond announced to the entire room that you had been fucking every night for a fortnight, she had to accept.

You had a kind heart, and he loved that about you. He had a kind heart too, but only when it came to you. Sometimes ignorance was bliss, as you ignored all of the hurtful things he would do to others. It was hard to ignore however, when he killed a man in front of you for looking at you for too long. “You are mine, and no one else’s to look at. Accept that.” He had told you, you felt guilty at the fact that you liked his possessiveness. It was addictive. He was addictive.

——-

A/N- this is my first time writing head canons lol, let me know if you want more, or if I can do anything to improve!

Likes, comments and reblogs are unbelievably appreciated <3

[buckyalpine]

Here is a list of things that make me mad in no particular order. Angry ranting. Pls ignore this, I'm just screaming into the void. These example apply to very specific situations I've encountered with people who are perfectly capable of doing better.

People who lack common sense. Social awareness. Common courtesy. Saying "Oh my God, I'd never do that" when they've never been even close to said situation but they're now experts on how they'd act while sitting on their pristine Thoroughbred horse, sipping on English tea with their pink so high it may as well be in their nose.

People who say "Well I wouldn't care if it happened to me" or "I'm just being honest" when you point out something they did/said.

When autocorrect/spellcheck decides it cannot for the life of it figure out what you're trying to spell OR it gives you suggestions for every word under the sun except the one you want. All you did was leave out a single letter with the rest of it spelled perfectly and spellcheck decides to go into a coma. So you fix the mistake and the little squiggly red line goes away. Fuck you.

Gnats. WTF is you're problem. I've Googled this shit cause I want to know why tf you can't just fly straight, why do you have to buzz all over the damn place near my head of all places.

Flies. Same thing as above. Why tf can't you just fly straight. WHY NEAR MY EAR. You have the entire world and you decided my room is the place to be? And now we're both miserable because you keep hitting yourself against the window after noticing your grave mistake. I leave the door wide open but you want to keep body slamming the glass.

Giving me life advice on something you know nothing about.

People who don't love their pets. Yeah, you take care of them but you do it as a chore and then complain about it. Those little fur babies deserve it all, give them the best or don't have pets at all.

Holier than thou attitude.

People who laugh at those who are visibly upset and tell them they're being too sensitive.

Allergies. IDK Why tf my body acts surprised as hell every single spring. It's just fucking pollen. Why are you trying to fight it. Do you understand that in your brilliant plan to try and fight the little evaders you actually make me want to end it all because my nose is itching and my eyes are watering and I can't breathe. Food allergies are another level of bullshit. I'll never forget the day this one girl tells me she wished she had allergies? Like it makes you special, mf what??? She was being serious too.

Thin, straight, fine black hair. Can't do anything with it. It doesn't hold hairstyles, doesn't curly, gets heavy as soon as you use any product and 90% of the time it just looks like Snape cosplay. Ask me how I know

Parents who buy their very young children shoes with laces. This is inconvenient for all of us. why tf would you do this when Velcro exists. Your 4 year old doesn't need laces when they have no clue how to even eat cheese with their crackers, mf why did you buy this shoe for them?!

Bananas. Hate them with a burning passion. The smell. The texture. I hate the peel is left out and about like it isn't making the entire room smell. Don't even get me started on banana breath. (Keep in mind this is not me saying I think they're gross. I wish I liked them because they're a super convenient snack and very healthy)

People who lie and say you can't taste the banana in a smoothie. Yes, I can. You always can. You can have 1000lbs of any fruits and that single banana will still stand out.

People who don't understand mental illness/ act ignorantly to those suffering.

Big companies who ask you to donate to stuff. You're going to use this as a tax write off, stfu.

Inflation.

People who laugh at others for not knowing something. Maybe that thing had 0 relevance to their life. Maybe they learned about that because they were taught something else. Either way, how is it funny.

People who laugh at those learning a new language. You're the fucking worst. They are LEARNING. Let them get used to the pronunciation, let them get accustomed to sentence structures, let them make mistakes without being embarrassed. You're the embarrassing one cackling you're damn ass off while they're trying to do something new. You're discouraging them from wanting to continue because you feel the need to be an asshole.

People who make everything a serious debate/conversation.

People who steal. Not out of necessity but just because they can. I'll never forget overhearing this group of kids in my high school bragging and laughing their asses off over how much candy they stole from other kids. They also stole phones. These were not troubled kids mind you, they were doing this for shits and giggles.

Eczema. So fucking itchy, why can't skin just act right. It feels awful, looks awful and just comes and goes as it pleases.

People who clown you for who you find attractive. Why. If I find this person attractive, what in the ever loving flying fuck does it have to do with you. It's just so unnecessarily rude. I don't even get how its funny or why you find it okay to call someone ugly as if this is something they personally have control over.

I'm going to add more to this list.

[ak319]

Yan G!P Princess x fem reader

Part I (Warnings: Possessive, stalker, betrayal, ) ⤷ Series m.list Your name in the story is Deniz

(Your POV)

"But Clara what we can do is ---with the help of the Mayor perhaps negotiate with them. I think they would agree, I mean that family loves doing charity don't they?"

"Yup, they do, Leo. But not behind the scenes. When the camera is off, they are just another ordinary, rich, money-hungry family." My boss Clara sighed for the umpteenth time and took her glasses off. I sat quietly on the sofa listening to their banter for the past ten minutes.

Our organisation, Redwood High Social Work was now facing what seemed like a dead end regarding the 1 acre of land that was designated to be made into a proper field for sports, not only for Redwood but for Knights High which was affiliated to Redwood and was a school for Special Ed. They really deserve that ground. Every kid deserves a good sport and imagine the numerous events we can have in the field. But somehow everything isn't so easy. We received an email last night which was apparently from the palace! Like THE PALACE! We thought that it was a prank but in the morning the Mayor's secretary sent us one clarifying that yes, it was from the palace. And what it stated was that and I quote

''....the field itself isn't the issue but the forest behind it is the property of the Royal family. God forbid none of us would want anyone harmed if there happens to be any hunting activity taking place. Keeping this in mind, it is therefore requested that your honourable organization reconsider its plans and if any compensation is desired, contact the number XXXX...."

"Just read this posh ass shit. I cannot believe the Mayor ditched us like that." Clara snarled flailing her arms once more making Leo rub his temples. I noticed a few gray hairs on the back of his head. Poor guy really be getting old early due to Clara.

"He didn't ditch us Clara. He did what any person would do, listen to the higher-ups. DUH?!"

"Higher ups?! Seriously Leo? Where were these higher-ups when we officially signed ownership documents and paid for the fucking land levelling equipment?! Do you think they gonna refund me? NO! Even if they do it will be half of the amount. Those were the school's funds LEO! The principal will get chewed on by the parents and in both schools! God....I don't---I can't just wrap my fucking mind around this whole scenario. That forest is literally at the edge of the field. The fences have been already built around 2 years ago. There are no reports of any animal attacks. And it's not like we are not going to monitor our children. Do we look stupid to them?! And I swear Leo and Deniz...they don't own that forest. I checked it a million times. Nobody goes there but oh now they do? Kiss my ass! "

I took a deep breath and put down my laptop down on the table before walking over to her desk.

"Maybe, Leo is right. We can only sort this out via a meeting."

"Meeting with who Deniz? I see only one solution. That is to sue them. Imma sue them, Imma sue the mayor too. Like where is he now? Huh? Did he just use us as some campaign pawns? Did you see his fucking website? WE ARE THERE! BUT NOW LOOK WE DON'T HAVE THE FUCKING GROUND. Imma sue his ass." She ran her hand through her curly black locks in anger. I definitely can understand what she is going through. Frustration. Anger. Sadness. But we all need to think instead of rant.

"I did see it, Clara. But you need to calm down. We need to come up with something solid. And suing the royal family? Can we even do that?" I looked at Leo who shrugged.

"See? We are not making any sense right now. What is done is done. So, I was thinking like---we can use the power of media as well. Why don't I call in Alfie and get your words on the front page tomorrow? He is looking for some hot tips as well these days." Alfie was Clara's cousin and a pretty seasoned journalist too.

"Get my words on what exactly?. We need to-" She breathed in for once before continuing "We need to have a chat with both of these parties first, Deniz. Go and keep reaching the Mayor's office. We will get rid of him first. Leo, go inform Knights about this fuckery but feed them some words of hope as well like 'we are working on it and it will be sorted', gotcha? Also, ask them to keep it to themselves. I don't want any parent drama."

"I already sent e-mails to the Mayor's office. Also what about Ma'am Layla?" I referred to our school's principal.

"I'll explain this to her myself." With that, everybody got to work. Honestly never thought that a degree in Science in Policy could lead to such a problematic job. I thought everything was going to be cookies and rainbows. But meh. People ruin everything. And I mean some assholes and I know exactly who this might be. But I need to be calm and focused right now.

Anyway, why is the Mayor even siding with the Royals --- since when are they interfering in the government?. Just as I was thinking this I got a notification on my phone. YES! An email from Emilia, Mayor Alex's secretary.

It said that Carla is invited to a meeting tomorrow. Mhm. This is good news then. Better go tell her.

════∘◦❁◦∘════

Fast forward to tomorrow, we were heading to the Mayor's abode. Not his office. His home. Which was odd. It was only me, as I was the assistant to the project manager, and Carla herself, the project manager/organization head, and the driver.

"So don't worry about the talking I'll-"

"You will handle it. I know. Just don't use the word sue ten times in a row and we will be good."

"Deniz, come on. Everybody loses their marbles sometimes. Didn't you once break everything in your room just because your food order was cancelled due to rain or something like that?" She whispered to me about my meltdown. My eyes widened in embarrassment, making her laugh.

"I assume you the most humble Carla, never experienced the emotion "hanger". And guess what--I had my movie ready to be played and my pad changed. " I whispered the last part to her as well. "So yeah, my cosy time was ruined. I would wage a war for that."

"Pft. Imagine you being a Queen. You would wage war everyday then."

"Damn right." Although her words brought an uncomfortable feeling and bitter thoughts in my mind making me shiver but I remained composed.

We bantered and went through some points before finally reaching our destination. I said some prayers as I got out of the car wishing that everything goes smoothly and this gets sorted out today. Glancing over at Carla's blank look as she scanned the front door, I could tell she was hoping the same.

Soon the Mayor greeted us in his formal attire and led us to his veranda where someone else was present too. An old man but his poise screamed of experience and wisdom. His eyes seemed to smile when we entered but the rest of his face was stoic. He was introduced to us as Richard, the queen's butler of some sorts. Just great.

The discussion started and it was revealed by "MR. RICHARD" that,

"As a matter of fact that forest is a part of royal treasury but since this---trifle has started, the King has with open heart decided to hand it to your organization, but..."

All of three of us leaned and waited for the next words out of his mouth. God , he spoke so slow.

"only when Princess Kade returns back from Harvard." My heart dropped.

"And why is that?" Carla's blurted out, in favor of mine and Alex's curiosity.

"Because it is accorded in her name. Her property , her signatures." He spoke looking directly at Carla.

Alex sighed, "Well, this is still a good start. When will she be back?"

"In a month or so, sir. But don't worry, the field will be handed to you as soon as she arrives. She doesn't hesitate when it comes to her duties," Richard eyed me and I held his gaze as fiercely as I could.

That was the moment when my doubts were confirmed and hardened. I know exactly who is behind this and why. But for now, I think Carla's smile means a call for celebration.

════∘◦❁◦∘════

(Your POV)

I stepped into my apartment and took a long shower which I had been desiring all day. But at the back of my mind I had a feeling that my feelings of anger and frustration instead of subsiding were about to explode more and that is what happened when I sat down on my sofa with my phone. A call from an unknown number. I picked it up but didn't say anything waiting for the other side to speak.

"Hello? Deniz?"

"Fuck you, Kade! FUCK YOU AND YOUR FAMILY! YOU RICH SNOBBY BASTARD! YOU CREEP! WHY CAN'T YOU LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! You have dug your claws EVERYWHERE HAVEN'T YOU!? How low can you go? Huh?! PATHETIC!"

"Listen, please. I beg you to listen. If you are so keen to figure out that I did it, why don't you see WHY I did it?! Even these curses that you oh so charmingly bestowed upon me right now, you wouldn't do it Deniz if I hadn't done something, because you don't consider me even worthy of your hate Deniz. And here I am, begging for an ounce of affection-

"I didn't ask you to beg!" Her words don't ever miss a chance to rile me up. Why can't this delusional woman just leave me alone?

"You study at Harvard for God's sake yet you cannot--decipher the meaning of a simple word called NO. Why can't you accept-

"I WON'T ACCEPT IT! EVER!. BECAUSE IT'S BASELESS! Absolutely baseless! I refuse to accept it because I know deep down you don't mean-" She took a deep breath before continuing and I could also hear the sound of wind in the background. Almost as if something was hitting a hard surface and I instantly remembered. 'Yeah of course how did I forget she is using a fucking payphone ever since I blocked all her numbers.' How did I even manage to make her go to these lengths? Should I even blame myself? My therapist said no. Yeah. No Deniz, this isn't your fault. Don't you dare take it upon yourself for the crazy stunts of this bastard princess. Should I blame that whole match? That day, that event, that night?

It happened when I was in high school, part of the girl's cricket team in Southampton. After a match against another school and my striking performance as an outclass bowler, being responsible for taking out 3, star batswomen of the rival team, a girl from the audience approached me. Tall, reeking of elegance and mystery. My team captain, Reece whom I was standing beside at the time with some other teammates seemed to know the Princess as we would come to know later on. They both met through mutual acquaintances at a basketball match and were now very close friends. One thing to mention is that I had a thing for Reece due to her caring, charming and dominating presence on the field. I mean come on, she was quite a looker too with her sharp features and those green calculating eyes, her height, and golden brown hair which she kept mostly in a man bun. I always felt shy for no reason when we all would work out in the school gym and she would always come to scold my posture or cause my already pounding heart to nearly blast out of my chest helping me with her muscled arms and hands. LIKE WOMAN SORRY IF I AIN'T AS BUILT AS YOU! I wanted to scream "Hey! Stop treating me as a baby or if am weaker" But man come on, deep down I loved her care and touch. Can you blame my ass? Anyway, I digress. Back to that "After Match Moment".

Reece introduced her as a longtime childhood buddy and kept her background mostly vague and we were already exhausted after the match so didn't pay any heed anyway but mostly all of the team recognized her as the princess of the fucking land that we were standing on. Even though I was drenched in sweat and overwhelmed by the crowd — mostly parents and teachers and now a fucking princess standing in front, I still noticed Kade's lingering gaze on me. At the time, it was somewhat off-putting, but I decided to let it go. Little did I know how I would be drawn into such a heartless game, not only by Kade but also by Reece. I had trusted Reece as a mentor and a friend, and I even harboured a special affection for her that I never disclosed to anyone or dared to confess to her. Reece was the type of person who had many admirers, and my own insecurities made me feel like I could never compete. She could have anyone she wanted, so I focused on my studies and cricket instead.

After the meeting with Kade, Reece initiated plans for an outing which was very rare for her to do so. It was something Hana did, our wicketkeeper as she was the cheery one, the sunshine and the glue of the team. Others didn't seem to notice Reece's sudden change in demeanour, but I did as whenever we went to Reece's house or somewhere out, she seemed to avoid me in a way that is difficult to describe. Like she would be talking to me but not looking at me?. Also, Kade seemed to always show up and eventually became part of our friend group. Thank God she wouldn't stare at me as she did that night but still lingered around me. I always felt strange when we played cricket in front of her and even with her. She always was eager to ball herself when I used to bat and Reece let her do it first , every time. Kade once fixed my posture when I was batting. Like, excuse me?? I am a professional here. I know how to bat. Are you fucking kidding me?! I wanted to smash the bat on her head. Everyone except Reece thought that it was condescending for her to do that. And the fact that she touched me while doing it.

Bruh.

I too lost my shit at that time and did tell her politely that I know how to bat to which she apologised with a smile and backed off.

Reece straight up once "little sister zoned me" in front of everyone at her cabin during a BBQ and both she and Kade laughed as if it was the funniest shit they ever heard.

What shocked me most was Reece's behaviour few days after that. She really took the role of 'big sister' too seriously. She paid extra attention to me as if babying me and often I would find goodie bags in my locker or doorstep after practices and matches. I was...honestly just fed up. Like what fucking drugs are you on , Captain? First, you ignore me and then--this? Calling me and making me your sister? Giving me gifts? Like it took me so much to bury my feelings about her and she is "platonically love-bombing" me?

One day I had enough and texted her respectfully that I don't want all of this attention and I just wanted to be treated like a teammate as before. And asked her if she---likes me by any chance and she is doing all this to impress me. (Which is the one I hoped at that time of my youth and dumbassery that she would agree with and confess her feelings) Fate had other plans and hell broke loose when she rang me and informed me.

'Look, it's me giving you all that stuff but I ain't the one buying 'em', Dizzy. It's Kade, well she likes you and um--so ever since she told me about her crush on you, she sends me these to give em to you- and Dizzy---I can't say no to my friend ....who is also royalty. You should try to understand. She really really likes you. Trust me. She's a bit--aloof when it comes to expressing it. Especially since it's you." She chuckled lightly. "Honestly, you here made a princess scared of you, be proud of yourself...cuz Kade ain't easy to intimidate.."

That was when my whole world collapsed. So all of this ---bullshit--confusion--and- God...

After that, I confronted Kade face to face as Reece called her to school one day. She remained steadfast and pleaded to give her a chance but I was deep in anger and felt played. Not to forget the fact that dating a fucking royalty was not the thing I was even imagining at that point at 17 years old. Informing your parents you are dating a princess.....nah.

After that, I focused on my studies and game not talking to Reece other than when I had to about the match. I stopped hanging out with her. I hated her. She didn't care anyway as I would later find out from another teammate that Reece looked at me as not her sister but SISTER-IN-FUCKING-LAW! LIKE WOMAN?! During my absence and one of their "Chill Nights", Kade had made it clear to her in front of other teammates that Reece would be her best woman at OUR WEDDING!? Do you get the level of craziness?! THESE TWO WERE MANIACS! Thank God, I graduated somehow and Kade hadn't appeared in my life after the argument with her and neither did her gifts. I also broke off contact with Reece's ass and even rarely talked with other players but they were honestly more supportive and understood my side. However, Kade and Reece's sis-romance was off the charts. Just go marry each other, weirdos.

Fast forward to a few years and voila, Kade is back and more persistent than ever. Even Reece messaged me on instagram that I should get hitched with her as it's better for my future for which I retorted.

'Um, focus on your life, Reece. Heard you've got a league coming up' Yes, she is a national player now. FML. That was my dream too but I am grateful I ain't because she would be playing alongside me. Eugh!

'Also I can make decisions for myself and I don't appreciate people trying to coax me into anything I don't want to do, you know that very well. Match against the Kent Lionesses, 30 sept, 2013? Yes, didn't wanna do a spin, didn't do it and gave u a good 4 wickets. While Tanya was forcing me to do fast bowl. So please, get the fantasy of me being your BFF's wife out of your head.'

She indeed was unhappy but left me on seen after saying you are missing out on a great woman and a great life.

Right. Fuck you too.

Still fast forward to now and Kade is still looking for ways to connect with me and re-enter my life or trying to RUIN the one I have by creating such circumstances which all link back to her. I have blocked so many numbers of her that now she uses payphones.

I need a break.

Back to reality. Oh , she still is rambling.

"Kade?"

The line goes silent. Good, now is my time.

"Bye." And I cut the call and powered off my phone. I immediately sent a text via laptop to Carla that I needed a prolonged leave as I was leaving for my (homeland/town). The perks of having a nice boss is that she agreed and didn't even pry much and soon I booked a flight and got ready to pack.

My mind however kept swirling with other notions. For example, what will happen if I say yes to Kade? What If I just never come back and consult all of this bullshit from the start with my family and come up with a plan to start an undercover life.

My body is so exhausted by the memories and anxiety that i just collapse on the bed and make a mental note to think over this during the flight.

Next

AN: Guys, I wanted to make it clear that I just don't like using (Y/N) in stories, as I hate typing it. So, I will be mostly naming you, the readers ♡. Yes, you, my little family of 10 😭. I would like to know your opinion. Do hang around for further parts. Kade Emsworth's side is coming up soon.

[runnning-outof-time]

More Than Charm | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - part two of Actions Speak Louder … inspired by a comment from @holacia3

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy’s got a lot of making up to do, both to (Y/N) and her parents. To anyone else, this would be a challenging feat….but Tommy Shelby isn’t anyone else.

Warnings: drinking, language

Word Count: 2493

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long for this second part to be written. If you’re still interested enough to see what happens next, thanks so much for sticking around. I’m not 100% sure it came out how I wanted it to, but I’m happy with it nonetheless. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: oh and what a better time to post this than on the day they got married? - thank you to @eatdirt420 for suggesting I pick a day in between the two seasons that won…I hope this day is considered to be that!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

- December 12th, 1920 -

If you told (Y/N) that this day would finally come around, she probably would have laughed in your face.

Tommy proposed to her in October of 1913. They were planning to have their wedding in August of the next year. But no one had anticipated the fact that Tommy and his brothers would have been shipped out to fight a war in France just one month prior.

The wedding had to be postponed due to the conflict, and it stayed postponed for seven long years - both due to the war continuing longer than anyone could have imagined, and also because of the ‘mess’ that Tommy and the family business got themselves into just shortly after they returned from the Western Front in 1919.

(Y/N) thought it’d be better to wait, to allow their wedding to have the spotlight that she felt it deserved. But she’d by lying if she said that the prospect of her walking down the aisle got bleaker with every year that passed.

But today it finally happened. She finally walked down the aisle, took her fiancé’s hands, and vowed herself to him for the rest of her life. He, in return, vowed the same for her, and she and Tommy then walked back down the aisle as husband and wife.

Now it was time for the reception.

Tommy and (Y/N) decided to take a moment to themselves before going out and greeting all of the people who joined them on their special day.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her as he shut the door behind them, making sure they were alone in one of the rooms just of off the large banquet hall. He noticed that something had been eating at his wife since the ceremony was finished.

“Nothing,” she quickly responded, noticing instantly after she’d answered him that her haste had given her true feelings away.

“You’re picking at your nails, love,” he nodded at her hands, catching her in the act, “something’s bothering you. What is it?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “My parents, Tommy,” she answered, her response only scratching the surface of what she wanted to say.

“What about ‘em?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“I’m worried what they’re thinking…how they’re taking this,” she divulged.

“Fuck what they’re thinking,” he was quick to brush it off, and he promptly earned a glare from his wife in response.

“Seriously? You can’t just say that,” she said, looking at him with wide eyes. Tommy stayed silent. (Y/N) turned from him with a huff, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes in hopes to alleviate some of the stress and worry she was feeling. “You can be so crass sometimes, Thomas,” she sighed, shaking her head as she looked at the ground.

“I’ve got this covered, love,” he responded, moving to stand behind her.

“I’ve heard that before,” she remarked, snorting after she spoke.

“I’ve got it covered,” he assured her, wrapping his arms around her midriff so he could pull her flush against him.

“Please don’t mess this up,” she whispered as she placed her hands atop his forearms.

“I won’t,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips to her neck.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but lean into his touch, her eyes slowly closing as she got lost in the feeling of his lips pressed to her skin. “We’ve gotta get out there, Tommy,” she finally spoke after a few moments had passed.

“They’ll be fine for a few more minutes,” he disregarded her statement, continuing his ministrations.

“Tommy,” the repeating of his name came as a breath this time.

“Just wanna spend some time with me wife,” he mumbled before spinning her around so that he could kiss her lips.

The reception was in full swing now. Tommy and (Y/N) had been playing host, going around to all of the guests and thanking them for being part of their big day. (Y/N) was so happy to see Tommy back to acting like his old self. Usually his smiles and lighthearted behavior were reserved for her eyes only but today, while in front of family and friends, his guard had been completely lowered.

Her parents hadn’t yet made a scene, which (Y/N) was thankful for because they very well could have if they wanted to. They stood off to the side and watched with smiles as their daughter celebrated her wedding day. (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or worried that Tommy hadn’t gone over to them yet.

“Don’t look now, (Y/N),” (Y/N)’s sister, Josephine, started while looking over the younger woman’s shoulder, “but Tommy’s on his way over to mum.”

(Y/N) looked as soon as her sister finished speaking. Sure enough, Tommy was now talking to her mother. She held her breath as she watched the two conversate.

“What is he going to do?” she wondered aloud, frozen as she silently hoped that this wouldn’t be the time where the train got derailed.

The two talked for a moment longer before Tommy offered his hand to her. Time seemed to go slow as (Y/N) watched a smile form on her mother’s face before she accepted Tommy’s hand and allowed him to lead her to to the dance floor.

“He got her to dance,” Josephine pointed out, grabbing hold of her sister’s arm as a look of shock formed on her face, “no one gets mum to dance.”

“And it looks like she’s enjoying it,” (Y/N) remarked, feeling an immense relief wash over her as she caught the wide smile that was present on her mother’s face.

“Leave it up to Tommy Shelby, right?” Josephine grinned as she looked over at her sister.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but blush. She tried to play it off, but the fact that Josie’s grin grew made it obvious that she had caught her initial reaction. “Yeah,” she conceded with a slight nod before adding, “but mum’s the easier of the two to convince. I’m interested to see what he’s got planned for dad.”

The evening had gone as swimmingly as it could have. There were many laughs and smiles, and the love could practically be felt in the room.

The dance seemed to do the trick: (Y/N)’s mother had decided to put her feelings of hesitance in the past and accepted Tommy as her son-in-law. Her only qualm now was that the two hadn’t gotten married sooner.

Much like (Y/N) predicted though, her father was going to be a harder person to sway. He stayed at the table for most of the evening, watching the event happen around him. She tried to get him involved a few times, but to no avail. The only time he stepped away from his seat was for the father-daughter dance.

“Is your father still here?” Tommy asked (Y/N) as the evening was drawing to a close.

“Let me see…” she trailed off, peering around his shoulder to find the table her parents had been sitting at, “he is,” she affirmed when she found him in the same seat he’d been occupying all evening. “Why do you ask?” she couldn’t help but question the reasoning behind his concern.

“I’ve not gotten to talk to him yet,” he answered.

“He’s not going to be as easy to sway as my mother was,” (Y/N) warned.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try, eh?” he cracked a grin. (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile at his determination.

“Please don’t make things worse,” she said before he could leave her side.

“I won’t,” he assured her, leaning in and pressing his lips to her forehead before he turned and walked away from her.

“(Y/N)!” she then heard from behind her. She turned to find Ada approaching her with Freddie in tow. There went the plan of watching Tommy try to smooth-talk her father. “I’ve been looking for you,” the Shelby woman stated as she pulled her new sister-in-law into a hug.

“You’ve found me,” (Y/N) smiled once the two ladies pulled away. She made sure to also acknowledge Freddie, who sent a smile back.

“I wanted to let you know that we’re leaving. It’s getting late and we don’t want to keep Karl’s sitter for too long,” Ada informed her.

“Oh that’s fine. Thank you both for coming,” (Y/N) smiled.

“It was absolutely lovely! We’re thrilled to have you as part of the family now,” Ada said with a smile before asking, “would you happen to know where my brother has run off to?”

“He trying to have a word with my father,” (Y/N) answered, watching as Ada’s eyes widened slightly.

“Best of luck with that,” she stated, “but knowing Tommy, he’ll be able to settle the score.”

“I can hope,” (Y/N) smiled softly, hoping it hid her true emotions. “Thanks again for coming tonight.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Ada smiled before pulling the other woman into one last hug.

By the time the Thornes had left her side, (Y/N) turned again to find Tommy sitting at the same table as her father. They were talking, and by the looks of it, her father seemed to actually be interested in the conversation. (Y/N) felt a smile creep onto her lips as they both lifted their glasses in unison for a drink.

“Whiskey…it sure does help men forget their differences,” the voice of her mother came from beside her, making (Y/N) jump at the sudden company.

“Mum,” she couldn’t help but gasp, her reaction making the other woman laugh. She shook her head and let out a sigh, her smile returning as her mother pulled her into her side. “Tommy really brought whiskey over for him?” she asked.

“He did,” her mum answered with a nod, “was really polite in asking if he could talk with him privately.”

“I can only imagine what they’re talking about,” (Y/N) stated, silently hoping that whatever it was wouldn’t ruin their chances at married life before it even began.

“Oh horses and betting, I’m sure,” her mother threw out a few ideas. “So long as he doesn’t coax him down to Watery Lane, we’ll be grand,” she then added in a nonchalant manner.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as they found her mother’s. She’d never explicitly told her about the business that Tommy and his family ran. Right now she felt like a child who’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. That was why the smile that formed on her mother’s face made confusion wash over her. Why is she smiling? she couldn’t help but think to herself.

“The Shelby name is spoken all around Small Heath, darling. It’s hard not to know about the business they’re involved in,” her mother explained her reaction, making her daughter immediately go into panic mode.

“You’re not upset about that, are you?” (Y/N) asked in a weary tone.

“I’m not,” the older woman started, shaking her head softly, “you’ve been with him for a long time now, and he’s not once shown that he wants to be anywhere other than by your side. He’s a good man to you, (Y/N), anyone can see that. I’m happy that he’s the one you married because I know that you’ll be safe with him.”

“I’m so happy to hear that you think that, mum,” (Y/N) said with a wide smile. She couldn’t help but wrap her arms around the older woman and hug her tightly. All of the worries she was harboring had now vanished.

“You’re going to have a lovely life with him,” her mother whispered as she held her daughter tighter.

“I’m not sure what you did, but you made them love you, Tommy,” (Y/N) said as she worked on making sure all of her jewelry was removed.

“You should have trusted me,” he responded, standing from the bed after he’d taken his shoes off. He then moved over to where she was standing so that he could wrap his arms around her waist from behind.

“I should have,” (Y/N) mumbled as she tried to fight the smile that was threatening to form on her face.

“What was that?” Tommy asked as he lifted his chin from her shoulder so that he could look her in the eyes through the mirror. His eyes were wide now and there was a grin teetering on his lips also. He definitely caught what she said…he just wanted to hear it again.

“Oh nothing…” (Y/N) trailed off, playing coy as she bit on her bottom lip.

“Did you just say that I was right?” he tried to coax the answer out of her.

“I said nothing,” (Y/N) held steadfast, although her grin was peeking through despite her attempts to keep it hidden.

“Fine…I’ll just have to use another means of getting it out of you,” Tommy decided, not giving her a moment to process what he said before he was dragging her backwards and - gently - pushing her onto the bed. “What was it you said, love?” he questioned between the kisses he was peppering all over her face, his hands finding the sensitive spots on her sides.

“Tommy!” she shrieked, trying so hard to catch her breath through her giggles. Despite her attempts to either stop his hands or take hold of his face, Tommy continued his barrage of kisses and tickles. “I should have trusted you!”

“What was that?” he stopped all at once, holding himself above her as their eyes met.

“I should have trusted you,” (Y/N) repeated herself once she caught her breath. She took hold of his cheeks with both of her hands and searched his eyes for a moment before adding, “I must’ve forgotten how much of a charmer you are.” She couldn’t help but smile as she watched a grin crack through his composure. If only she could have photographed this moment or found a way to freeze time.

“I managed to keep you for all these years somehow, didn’t I?” he countered, his grin growing, “that wasn’t because of luck alone.”

“I think it was more than your charm that made me stay, Tommy,” she admitted, her smile widening.

“Oh yeah?” his question sounded like he was challenging her.

“Yeah,” her quick response told him what she was up for the challenge.

“Wanna tell me all of those other reasons?” he asked then, one of his eyebrows raising as he spoke.

“Gladly,” (Y/N)’s smile grew more, if that was even possible. Her eyes then flitted down to his lips before returning to his again. “I think I’ll start with your kisses,” she stated, leaving him with no time to respond before she pulled his lips down to match hers in a passionate kiss.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[ohmyglobwhatthefrickamievendoing]

dj saying izzy was like a father figure to ed & then trying to connect that to ed killing his actual father is insane but specially, specially, when you remember that last episode stede & izzy had a pretty obvious moment where they came to an understanding about what it's like to be in love with the same man

that's not the kind of conversation and look you share with your ex's father figure. It's the one you share with your ex's ex while you're both still in love with him

Then the episode before that they kept cutting from stede&ed having sex to izzy singing a love song?

And the episode before that izzy stuttered and hesitantly asked stede what ed's been saying about him??

I know found families can have parental figures whom you may still feel a sexual and/or romantic attraction to, but at no point did either season ever show such a relationship between the two. I guess if you want to reach for it you could say that in early S1 there are times when izzy tries to look out for ed & guide him but even stede (fucking stede) clocks them as 'old married couple nearing the final stages of their divorce'

You could on a technicality apply the 'mentor dies at the end' trope to izzy but that's only if you assume that izzy's somewhat significantly older than ed and so probably looked out for ed at some point when they were working under hornigold together, which again is never shown in their dynamic (the only mention we get of it is through stede but I'm almost certain that most of what stede said was just him buttering up izzy to get him to train stede)

I feel like rather than 'father-figure/mentor dies at the end' it gives more 'even as we try to move on our existences are inseparably linked to each other and you're the last part of my old life that needs to die before I can finally be free to change and we both know that, even as it hurts' Yeah yeah izzy deserved to live a happy life away from blackbeard's influence the same way ed deserves to live a happy life away from izzy's (and I really wish he could have) but they've been unhealthily connected from the beginning (much more obvious in S2 seeing how neither of them could bare to get rid of the other's body) and it makes sense that eventually that's the trope & ending izzy fell into

point being:

david jenkins, sir, i respect your writing and love your show but that was absolutely NOT what was going on there

Izzy wanted to get fucked nasty but Ed's a bottom so it never worked out