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huicitawrites · 1 year

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MAJOR, HUGE, GINANEMENOSOROUS SPOILERS FOR JUJUTSU KAISEN MANGA 236!

You have been warned.

SPOIL OF WAR

yandere! Sukuna x Reader (x Gojo Satoru)

Inspired by @stupid-sloot-headcanons and their post:

warnings: major character death, non-con, kidnapping, yandere.

wordcount: 2,2k

This should not have been the outcome.

Your hands would only ever be delicate and affectionate with him, but this time they were rough- clawing, banging and shaking his chest.

“Satoru, please! You promised…”

You buried your tear-stained face in his blood-stained chest. Unable to take in his familiar scent, your nostrils were tormented by the stench of iron.

You stood waiting at the end of the stairs. A few footsteps away, you heard the sounds of clapping and cheering. The corners of your lips rose a tiny bit, it made you feel a little more at ease knowing they supported Satoru and had his back.

That they prayed on his victory, and so do you, you pray that he will be able to return to your arms again. You clutched the scarf in your hands tighter.

The sound of footsteps going down the stairs stole your attention, and you looked up to meet the pair of radiant blue eyes that always made you lose yourself in the sky- you would never get tired of them, you could not ever dream on it.

He halted in front of you, his diamond eyes softening their gaze on you. A pink blush painted his pale cheeks, and a warm smile spread through his lips.

“Well,” he broke the silence, “can I get a goodbye kiss?”

In the ever, so, aloof attitude Satoru’s voice lacked any worries. He sounded confident, eager even. You differed.

An exasperated chuckle left your lips, “Only if you promise to come back.”

“I promise”

You stepped closer, the tip of your nose brushing against his chest, and you lifted up your gaze. You scrutinised it, staring past through his eyes and into his soul- the white-haired sorcerer felt shivers up his spine.

“Pinky promise and all,” he said and popped out his little finger, “ Cross my heart and hope to die, I’d never lie”

You only raised up a single eyebrow in response.

“Pfft, you don’t believe me? Your lover? The strongest jujutsu sorcerer might I add?” He dipped his face lower, bumping your foreheads. His hands, such calloused, combat-faded, skin fell on your hips and he brought you closer until your bodies were flushed against each other.

You giggled, but the relief was short-lived “It’s not that Satoru.”

Your [s/c] arms snaked around his back and you took in the warmth radiating off his body. He felt cozy, he felt like home.

And he would soon depart to battle.

“What if this time, you don’t come back? What if I’m left all alone-“ your voice began to break in sobs and your throat tightened. “What if I don’t get to see you ever again? What will I do-? And what about Megumi? Oh gods, he must be so scared“

He cut off your overthinking with a kiss. His lips on yours were soft and sweet, you melted into the kiss- into his arms. You wish this moment was forever, and yet.

“[Y/n]” he called out your name calmly. The least he wanted to do was alarm you, he wanted to be gentle with you and comfort you. “- it’s a promise, I’ll win.”

You smiled as he held your cheeks in his palms. Your lover swatted away your tears with his thumbs.

“-And if you are still not sure, I’ll leave you with this” Satoru reached his hand to the pocket in his pants and your eyes widened in curiosity. When you caught glimpse of the little box in the palm of his hand, your heartbeat picked up and drummed against your chest.

“Satoru, are you?”

“Tsk, tsk! Lemme finish here,” he grinned and proceeded to lean on one knee. Without further words, he opened the box to reveal a beautiful, silver ring with a small yet brilliant diamond in the center. Gently, he took your left hand in his and slid the ring in your finger.

You gasped and tears of joy formed in the corners of your eyes, before breaking down in uncontrollable sobs. You shared a passionate, fervent, kiss as he held you in his big, strong arms.

“It’s a promise, I tell you”

As cherished memories flooded your grieving mind, your back shook violently and you clutched his split body tighter. You took a look into his eyes, now they were dull. There was no trace of the shining and lustrous Six Eyes you adored.

“There, there”, a coarse voice interrupted. You froze upon the feeling of a hand petting your back in a sick mockery of comfort.

The voice belonged to no other than Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, the usurper of Megumi Fushigoro’s body and the murderer of your fiancee.

“No use in crying over dead men, darling.” He snickered, “He had a good time, that much I can say. The best fight I had since, well,” he dragged his words, “-ever.”

“Don’t you dare lay your hands on me.”

“Oh?”

When you turned around, Sukuna was met with a nasty glare. Your face was covered in blood and your white irises highlighted your quivering pupils.

The King of Curses raised his eyebrows in amusement and smirked upon sensing the spurt of cursed energy radiating off your body.

“And just what exactly are you thinking about doing?”

He challenged you with his words, and although his usurped body was battered and tattered, his stance was confident. His words echoed in your mind, and flashbacks of Satoru and his promise flooded your mind once more.

Right, you could do nothing.

If the strongest sorcerer to ever exist was defeated, what could you - a retired sorcerer - hope to do?

The flow of your cursed energy vanished and your face fell. Silently, you dropped your body to lay next to your deceased meant-to-be husband. If you could not live a future without your beloved, you might as well follow suit.

The laugh of Sukuna tormented your ears, “You gave up? That easily? I had become excited, I thought you would put up a fight!”

His wicked grin and four mad eyes looked over your form with fake pity as he neared your form, looking over you. He squatted down, arms lazily over his knees and body to close for comfort- not that you paid much attention in your depressed state.

In the shell of your ear, like a cunning, venomous snake, he whispered “Got nothing left to do, now that he is gone… I can change that”

“It’s good to treat yourself after a good fight, after all.”

When a single arm wrapped around your waist picked you up, you began to thrash. ‘No’, ‘stop’, ‘don’t’, and many other words were begged for mercy as you furiously cried and tried to reach the body that became farther and farther away from you.

With your body in his arms, he carried you away. He laughed over the nastiest of insults you spat at him and found your resistance somewhat cute- but also annoying.

Above the two of you, the grey skies turned darker and darker. The sound of thunder boomed through the air as lightning flashed in the clouds. This picked Sukuna’s interest. He sighed.

He tilted your body to his other arm and used his claw to pinch on a nerve cluster in your neck. Suddenly, your thrashing body fell limp and your eyesight was shrouded in darkness.

“It seems I have to deal with some things first, worry not… We’ll have plenty of time later.”

...

Your forehead felt heavy against the corners of your head, it was throbbing. Still drowsy, you lifted your head off the pillow and squeezed your eyes before opening them wide. Light invaded your sight, blinding you partially as you blinked and adjusted to it.

You took in your surroundings, you were in a strange, lavish room.

What happened? Where is… Satoru...?

Your body woke up as soon as a glimpse of your beloved’s corpse flashed in your mind. In an instant, tears began to fall down your cheeks.

Satoru Gojo had lost the battle against Ryomen Sukuna.

The horrible image repeated itself a couple of times, before you remembered the transpired events and fell on the unknown bed- but not a stranger’s bed per se, his bed.

The strings in your heart pulled and ached as a sense of emptiness overtook your chest. You curled your body into a small ball.

You desperately wished to feel Satoru’s warmth.

You would never feel his warmth again.

“Still thinking about him?” A rough, morning voice spoke and before when you turned around, you met face-to-face with none other than The King of Curses.

You were staring wide-eyed directly at Ryomen Sukuna.

Amidst your shock, you could not mutter any words. However, your throat attempted to make sounds which died down in between your parted lips.

Sukuna chuckled.

“Good morning, darling. Had a good sleep?”

Part of you thought this was all a nightmare, a bad dream. Any moment, you would wake up now and be cuddling in the shared bed you had with your fiancee.

And yet, you franticly blinked your eyes, pinched your skin, all the tricks you knew to get you out of a bad dream all to earn the amused laugh of the King of Curses.

“This is very much real.” He cooed and before you could bolt and make a run for it, a pair- no, two pairs of abnormally huge arms trapped you in their hold.

“I finally have you all for myself.”

His confession did not shock you or washed you in either horror or confusion. No, you were too focused on the fact that you felt four arms around you.

The gears in your head slowly began to turn and click, when the realization dawned upon you, you snapped your head to observe his face.

His body had transformed, this time his four eyes were split- a set of horizontal eyes and a set of a vertical placed ones. Then, you took notice of his hair, it was salmon pink and slicked back- not dark and spiky. The ears beside his face were rather pointed and wide, decorated with black expanders, unlike the smaller ears of a teenager you had grown to care for.

You need not look at his enormous build, four arms, bigger markings, and mouthed belly to notice what happened. Ryomen Sukuna had reincarnated and Fushiguro Megumi, the boy you helped raise, was no longer.

True horror once agained adorned your eyes and with a cracked voice you called out the boy’s name, “Megumi? No, no, you… you-!”

“Oh yes, yes I did”

You broke down crying and sobbing once more and in taunting mockery Sukuna brought your body closer. He placed his chin atop your head and slowly caressed your back, leaving traces with his sharp, black nails.

Your flimsy hands pushed and bumped their fists against his head, all of which felt like a little tickling to the King of Curses. He laughed and mused.

“You are really cute, y’know? Gojo Satoru was lucky to have you.”

“You took everything from me! My husband, even my son!” and your enraged confession only made him chuckle more. As if it were all a joke to him, a mere slip-up or incident. Some bugs he had dealt with.

You continued balling your eyes out and pushing his body, but seeing it led you nowhere- your resolve cracked. You were all alone, stolen from the people you cherished most- the ones you viewed as close family.

“Sh… Don’t cry [Y/n],” he said your name so casually, “It doesn’t suit your pretty face”.

“What do you want from me…” An exhasperated demand left your lips and you feared looking up to meet his four, tormenting eyes. However, your hesitation to face him was ignored as one of his thumbs hooked under your chin and lifted your head.

You were looking eye to eye with the cursed king. You shivered upon clashing your [e/c] with his red eyes glistening with weird adoration, desire, lust, and hunger. An indescribable madness you could not describe, an unsettling obsession.

“If it’s a husband and a kid you are mourning over, I am more than glad to lend you my undivided aid with that.”

His voice dropped decibels lower, as he did his head which he dipped in the crook of your neck. Burying his nose in it, he inhaled in deep your scent and his arms lowered down your body.

Once again, you begged for mercy. Plea's and ‘no’s’ left your lips, yet they were muffled over by his own. His ‘kiss’, if a word of love could be used to describe such a monstrous act, drained you of the oxygen in your lungs, leaving you dizzy and gasping for air as his lips traveled down your unwilling body.

The sheets were cast aside along the torn layers of your clothes and soon, you found yourself bare beneath the devil.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll take care of everything from now on,” he whispered in your ear as his hand pushed down your back and pressed your abdomen against the mattress. “After all, you are no longer Gojo Satoru’s but mine. You are my prize, my spoil of war.”

#yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere x reader #self insert #yandere writing #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna #yandere sukuna x reader #gojo x reader

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monster-disaster · 2 months

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Are you doing anything for Mer-May?🌊

It’d be fun to have a story between a mermaid reader and maybe two love interests. Being a human man and merman 👉🏻👈🏻

merman!Lauran x mermaid!Reader x human!Alex Good to know: no warnings

A/N: Well, I'm reeeeaally late with this, but I hope you will still find some joy reading it. :)

The sea shimmers under the blazing midday sun, casting a brilliant glow across the water. Vivid greens and blues sparkle under the bright rays that scatter across the waves. Gentle ripples move in a rhythmic pattern, pushing and rocking the small boat on the surface. In the distance, the land appears as a thin, delicate strip, barely visible at the edge of the horizon.

Your laughter mingles with the soothing sound of the crashing waves as you dart out of the water with a joyful shriek. Droplets of seawater glisten on you like tiny diamonds as the sun kisses your skin. Your eyes follow the familiar form of your mate, whose scales shimmer in shades of emerald and sapphire beneath the glimmering water. His movements are quick and graceful as he grabs your lover's waist with a swift motion and pulls him up to the surface. The sight of Alex's shocked expression at the sudden change of position makes you laugh even harder. The sound blends seamlessly with the waves and the cries of the seagulls above.

"Alex," Lauran grins. "It's your turn now."

The human just groans, making the other male grin.

Your gaze lingers on the pair for a long second. Lauran, your mate, is an enchanting beauty with long, blond hair cascading down his back. His straight nose, hard jawline, and perfect, sharp teeth add to his captivating allure. Beside him, Alex has a natural, boyish charm. He is leaner than the merman. His physique is shaped by living on land and spending long hours in the water. His dark hair is tousled and tangled with salt and bright sunlight. The contrast between them is striking, yet they complement each other perfectly.

"You’re too slow, Alex!" You tease the human. Your laughter rings out as you swim absently in the water. With a few flicks of your tail, you glide closer, then dart away at the last moment, always staying just out of his reach. Alex, determined, lunges after you. His movements are fast but not quite enough to catch you. Water splashes everywhere, and your giggles grow louder. Meanwhile, Lauran floats nearby with an amused smile on his lips. He swims around Alex, his cockiness is obvious as he watches the playful scene between his lovers.

The chase whirls you around the boat in a dizzying circle. As you swim, your hand skims the wet side of the vessel. The surface is cool and slick beneath your fingers. You glance over your shoulder every now and again before ducking down and appearing somewhere else.

"It's not fair, you know?" Alex pants. His breath comes in quick, heavy bursts, but he still refuses to give up. His face is flushed with effort and excitement. His shoulders are slightly red from the sun.

"Slow down, my love," Lauran cuts in, his voice soothing and amused. He swims up to Alex, gently placing his webbed hand on the back of the man's neck. The touch sends a shiver through the young man's body, and you can see goosebumps rise on his sun-kissed skin as he closes his eyes for a long, blissful moment.

"We don’t want to exhaust him too soon," you agree, joining the pair with a playful smile. Wrapping your arms around Alex’s neck, you pull him close, pressing your bodies together. You can feel his muscles relaxing and melting against you, and a contented sigh escapes your lips as you bask in the warmth radiating from him. He smells like summer and salt.

"No," Lauran hums softly into the crook of Alex’s neck. His lips graze the sensitive skin with gentle, nibbling kisses. The merman’s touch is both tender and teasing.

Taking control, you lean in to kiss your human lover. Your lips brush against his with a playful nip on the soft flesh of his lower lip. You tug it gently before allowing your tongue to explore the warmth of his mouth. He tastes like the sea and something else. Even after spending so much time in the water with you and Lauran, there is still an earthy tint about him. His presence is a grounding, connecting the world outside to your realm in the sea.

"But you are still slow," you giggle. Every word you say brushes against his slightly open lips.

"I would like to see how fast you would be with legs," he retorts before pressing against you for another searing kiss.

You spend the day in this blissful dance in the salty embrace of the sea and the caress of the burning sunlight. You chase each other through the water with kisses, warm touches, and silly jokes. Time seems to stretch as you move together in a carefree rhythm.

When the sun dips below the horizon, coloring the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink, Lauran gently guides Alex back into the boat. His worry and protectiveness for the human are evident in every movement he makes. No matter how much time Alex spends in the water, he will never have muscles like you or Lauran. He gets tired and sore much more easily than the merfolk.

Alex, however, glances back at the pair of you with a sad look as you and your mate start to push the boat towards the land in the distance. His voice tinted with reluctance. "I don't want to go home yet. It's still early."

Lauran's eyes soften with a reassuring smile as he responds, "As you wish, my love. The day doesn’t have to end just yet."

As you push and steer the boat with Alex aboard, the three of you navigate toward your favorite spot; a secluded cove not far from the bustling beach. The cove is framed by jagged rocks, separating it from the outside world. The boat glides through the water with a gentle sway while the busy beach fades into the background. The splashes under your tail echo off the rugged walls.

Alex climbs out of the boat onto the sandy shore, leaving a wet trail behind. You and Lauran follow him, emerging from the water until your upper bodies and most of your tails are on the beach. The sand clings to your damp skin as you settle down next to Alex, feeling its warmth beneath you. You rest your head on your human's arm while Lauran curls up against him. His scales catch the last of the fading sunlight as he gazes out through the entrance of the cove.

The sounds of the bustling beach seem distant now, replaced by the gentle whispers of the evening breeze and the rhythmic lull of the waves.

"I don't want this summer to end," Alex says, breaking the silence first. A small scowl forms between his brows as he thinks about the future. The thought of you and Lauran going back to your own world when the summer ends weighs heavily on his chest.

You and the merman exchange a knowing glance, both feeling the same reluctance and worry. As autumn approaches and the temperature begins to drop, you and your kind prepare for your annual journey across the sea. It’s a cycle that repeats year after year, a rhythm of migration that’s as much a part of your life as the changing seasons.

"We could stay," you reply, your voice is heavy with the unknown. The idea of remaining in this place is both thrilling and daunting. It’s not uncommon for merfolk to make such a decision, but it is a significant one with challenges and sacrifices.

Lauran nods, his gaze softening as he looks at Alex, who is nestled comfortably between you both. "If you want us, we could stay," he says gently, offering the possibility with an open heart.

As you all lie together in the quiet cove and the stars begin to twinkle above, the lingering decision feels like a chance for something new. For something exciting.

#monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #terat0philliac #teratophillia #sweet asks #monster girlfriend #monster fucker #monster kink #monster lover #monsterfucker #exophelia #merman x reader #mermaid x human

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tiarascrowns · 9 months

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Antique Diamond Parure

ANTIQUE SET IN SILVER AND GOLD WITH OLD CUT DIAMONDS composed of a tiara with a flowering branch design, central rose in old mine cut diamonds on a branch with leaves and buds in old cut diamonds, entirely dismantled to be worn, via eight additional settings, in various combinations of brooches and hair ornaments; a rigid bracelet, a pair of dangling earrings and a ring with an old cut brilliant "en suite", in an original case by Franconeri Napoli, accompanied by the original invoice dated 1883 (5)

Christie's

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binenbaumaj · 3 months

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Diamond 14k Platinum Trilogy Ring 16360-8818

This exquisite mid-century trilogy ring showcases three brilliant-cut diamonds totaling 0.80ct (I-J, SI). Crafted with a 14k yellow gold band and a platinum front, it offers a perfect blend of vintage beauty and modern appeal.

Details: 3 totaling ±0.80ct (I-J SI) Brilliant-cut diamonds, 14k, Platinum Ring *.

Design Era: Mid 20th Century (1950-1970).

Size: 17.93 NL / 56.3 FR / 7¾ US / P UK, sizeable (Within reason. Contact seller for information).

Weight in grams: 3.8.

Condition: Very good condition - slightly used with small signs of wear.

Shipping and Pickup: This lovely piece ships from our store located in the center of Amsterdam, The Netherlands. We offer both registered shipping and local pickup at our store. In the case of local pickup, any applicable shipping costs will be refunded.

About Us: Add some sparkle to your style with Binenbaum.com. We offer a stunning selection of antique and vintage jewelry that you won't find anywhere else. From timeless rings and dazzling necklaces to unique brooches, we have something for every taste and occasion. Visit our website today and treat yourself to a piece of history.

#14k yellow gold #Brilliant-Cut Diamonds #DiamondRing #mid-century trilogy ring #MidCenturyStyle #platinum front #TrilogyRing #vintage diamond ring #vintagejewelry #YellowGold

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forpiratereasons · 1 year

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meeting stede bonnet

a slow meandering through June. fourth prompt: rainbows!

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | day 9 | day 10

“The fuck is that?”

Rough start to the morning, if Iz was in this early. Ed didn’t look up from the drawing he was fiddling with: an ice cream cone, couple of sprinkles. Cherry on top. He hadn’t done this sort of thing since his apprenticeship.

“Had lunch with a guy yesterday,” Ed said. “Reminded me of an ice cream.”

Izzy frowned. “Not your usual style.”

That was probably the nicest thing Izzy was physically capable of saying about it. Ed ignored him, picked a turquoise from his palette. Thought of the ring Stede had been wearing. Big ring, big hands. Broad shoulders. Built like a fridge.

Ed wanted to open him up. Rummage around inside, a bit. See what else was in there.

“Thought I might do a little flash sheet,” he mused. “Something for Pride, maybe. Summer vibes.”

Izzy snorted. “You’re a bit beyond that, don’t you think? People don’t come to Blackbeard for little rainbows and smiley faces.”

No, they didn’t. Mostly they came to see Blackbeard for blackwork: sprawling geometrics, florals cut from endless blackouts, abstract patterns sweeping over skin like laying down lace. It wasn’t tā moko like Ed had set out to do, it wasn’t even usually kirituhi—but it was something. It had made his name.

It had made his name so well, in fact, he hadn’t done flash in years.

But the progress pin Stede had been wearing stuck in Ed’s head, and he was suddenly itching to create something, to transform it. He’d whipped out a dozen designs overnight: old school flags and diamonds, winged hearts and roses. Even a fucking unicorn.

Anything that could be filled in with pride. With colour.

After twenty years in Blackbeard’s black lines, black fills, Ed was aching for colour. Pinks and blues and purples, deep emeralds, rich indigos. Soft oranges and brilliant aquas and slashes of red. All of it.

The whole goddamn rainbow.

“Maybe I want to do little rainbows and smiley faces for a bit,” Ed shrugged. “Change of pace, Iz.”

Izzy wasn’t big on changes of pace. Izzy changed paces at around the same speed as a fish trying to grow legs and fund a retirement plan.

Stede, though.

Stede had a bookshop that Ed knew had only opened a couple of months ago, a tan line on his fourth ring finger, and a penchant for fiddling with the pin on his chest, like he was checking that it was still there. He talked about his life like it had only just started a month ago; he’d changed paces so fucking fast, it seemed, he’d left the whole fucking road behind.

Like it was that easy. Like you could just do that: change everything.

Izzy snorted, fucked off to the front desk. “Have you got that geometric done for tomorrow? Client’s in at ten.”

No. Not even half the draft. Boring as hell. “Yeah.”

Turquoise ice creams weren’t boring. Ed tried to think what flavour that might be as he deepened the shadows on the twist, laying colour down in waves: blue raspberry, probably, or cotton candy. Bubble-gum.

Could be anything, the Stede in Ed’s head chimed in. Marshmallow. Almond. Just vanilla. Did you know—

Ed didn’t know, so he couldn’t think of what Stede might say, but he was pretty sure Stede’d have something. Stede had a lot of something to say. Ed had only gotten three hours worth, sitting on that bench by the water and eating hot dogs, but he felt like he could’ve spent three days, and when Stede noticed the time Ed had caught him by the hand and said, d’you wanna do something weird? before whispering a question into Stede’s ear.

I’ve never, Stede had stuttered.

First time for everything, Ed had assured him, and Stede had turned pink, turned red.

Said, yes.

Ed had kissed him. Three hours that should’ve been three days, and Ed had kissed him, brief and chaste, just at the corner of his mouth. Kissed him, and split away, laughing, said goodbye in front of the arcade and all its flashing lights.

First time for everything, Ed had said, but he hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

“Hey, Iz,” Ed said, picking out a pink, a red, for the cherry. “What’s a good spot for a first date?”

#darcy writes pirates #ofmd #gentlebeard

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eriebasin · 8 months

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An unusual and very high quality c1975 ring with an arch of white diamond baguettes centering on a fancy yellow emerald cut diamond. A series of fins on either side terminate with round brilliant cut diamonds where they meet the shank. Built in 18K yellow gold and signed by unknown maker.

eriebasin.com

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trtyutr · 6 months

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Attention of the Court IV

Ryan thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell ringing. When he opened it there was two envelopes waiting for him, one blue and the other red. "It is about that time again." He heads back inside and opens up both envelopes. The blue one has a slip of paper notifying him that $75,000 has been deposited to his account. The other has a pamphlet labeled Pregnancy and You. There's a picture of man holding a pregnant looking belly on the front.

He opens up the pamphlet and starts reading the strange pamphlet. There's more pictures of pregnant men as well as details about what he will expect from his pregnancy. It all makes so much sense the more he reads, the bloat, the libido, he's pregnant. He reads to the end and sees a section of seeing how many you are carrying. He looks at the last one for 150+ amount of kids, and how the guy with the one month belly looks to have a similar to the amount of growth he's having. He looks at the last picture, nine months. The man is dwarfed by his belly, resting on the ground and far surpassing him in height. "I'm going to be like that." He puts the pamphlet down. He's going to be a father. Hopefully the money he's getting is going to continue to increase, cause he's going to need it, and oh good the house he's going to have to buy is going to have enough rooms. He might have to have it be purpose built for him and his kids to fit them all. "I don't know who your other father is, but I know that I'm your father, and that I'm going to do my best to take care of you." He spent the rest of the week trying to find three things, a nice parcel of land, a company to build a house for him and his brood, and guys to fuck him and to fuck. The last one started to be harder to find. His belly is getting more obvious, and it's making it harder to find guys to hook up with. He might have to come clean about it, and that might make things even more complicated. "Good Peers of the Court. It seems that our little game's effects are becoming more apparent to outsiders. Now I have a little amulet that will solve this conundrum. Now it only needs one last detail. What gem should I socket it with? I have a perfectly clear diamond, it has a subtle glamour to it, where people will notice but won't find it out of sort. I have a brilliant sapphire whose glamour is obvious and all it adore it as you do. I have a silvery pearl that matches the silver of the amulet. No one notice it but us and Ryan. Finally I have a black onyx cut beautify cut at one angle, but repulsive to all others. He will best be warry to hide it."

#mpreg #growth #voter's choice

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venturethighs · 7 days

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Nonbinary butch lesbian Venture we love you

We love you nonbinary butch lesbian Venture

It's your wedding night with nonbinary butch lesbian Venture AND yes they are a gangster AND yes they get you the prettiest dress money can buy AND yes you go on a honeymoon AND you'll never believe what happens next

Reader is femme and AFAB 🙂‍↕️

THIS NEEDS PROOFREADING BUT I AM VERY TIRED SO IT'LL HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL MORNING, I'M SORRY AAAAAAAA

If you had to ask them what their favorite part of the entire wedding was– well, it's actually hard to pick.

They certainly have multiple.

The ceremony itself did not include a lot of people. In fact, it had nobody. Nobody, except, for you and them. While there was certainly talk of invites being sent, you two went for a private wedding instead. Something small and intimate so they wouldn't have to share you for the rest of the night.

That doesn't mean you didn't have help getting ready.

It was hard to pick– who on earth was good enough to lay a hand on you? Who was worth your absolute time of day? There were a lot of options to consider. Did you want your face done up in hundreds of dollars worth of make up? What about your dress? Shoes? The lingerie underneath?

At the end of the day, you went with who you trusted the most to get the job done: yourself.

Yes, you did your own makeup.

You had a little help picking out a dress thanks to the tailors. However, a giant majority of the effort was done by none other than you.

That surprised them quite a bit.

That isn't to say you were bad at doing your makeup or fashion inept– in fact, it was quite the opposite– but you put in all that effort? You look like you just walked out of a magazine.

Your hair was left down and glimmered like it was dusted in layer of crushed diamonds. Your nails were painted white to match your dress. The cherry on top was the most brilliant, sparkling diadem fit for a princess such as yourself, because you certainly did look and feel like one.

"Wait– that's not what I mean– you always look like a princess! Just– now– especially–" You reduced them to a smoldering pile of ashes.

If you looked extra hard then you'd certainly see steam radiating off their flushed skin. Yes, the city renowned gangster whose name carries a quiet whisper of uncertainty– and you have turned them into a melted ball of fluff.

The way the sunlight filtered through the fabric of your dress put the silhouette of your legs on full display. The deep V shaped cut in front teased the cleavage of your breasts, lace crawling like beautiful flower covered vines all across your chest and body.

You looked like an angel. All you were missing were your wings.

Their memory jumps. Now, they hold your hands in front of the empty alter. No decorations. No bridesmaids. Nothing of the sort.

Yet, it was endearing all the same.

They tenderly take your hand– smaller, softer than theirs– and they slide the most intricate ring onto your left ring finger. You hold back tears. As do they.

"Mi princesa– no, mi reina–" The words they want to say get caught in their throat.

They were so used to intimidating people. So used to slinging words like bullets, dealing out threats like poker cards.

They swallow. You can tell they're struggling. The gaze you hold softens to let them know it's okay.

An abrupt laugh escapes.

"I– I'm so nervous–" They admit. "But– there isn't much to say that I haven't already told you."

No. That isn't good enough for them.

"I... I'm not good with words when it comes to this sort of thing. I can promise you I will never leave, and that you can always rely on me to protect and love you. It's just..." They look down at your hand lying atop of theirs. "Actions speak louder than words. So, I'm sure that probably makes a megaphone–"

More laughing. What a little dork.

It makes your heart warm.

"Uh– what I'm trying to say is– you could've chosen a lot better men out there who are equally as rich and aren't running an underground alcohol smuggling operation. Or intimidating people for getting too nosy. Or an actual man. But... you still went on that second date with me."

You take their other hand and hold them together this time.

"Do you want to know a secret?" You lean in and whisper.

They're quiet.

"I still would've chosen you out of all the men in this city." You admit. "Even if you weren't rich, even if you couldn't offer me protection, even if you couldn't be by my side as often as you are. I would still pick you. Every time."

Tears. Oh– they're so embarrassed.

You go from holding their hands to wiping that adorable face of theirs. The same face you picked out of a crowd all those years ago.

"I love you, Sloan Cameron. You made me the happiest person alive." You continue comforting them to the best of your ability.

"No! I'm supposed to say that!" They sniffle, a grin widening on their face.

Another memory jump.

The cake was absolutely gorgeous– and it was equally as delicious. It could have easily been split for a party of over fifty people, but here you both are, eating enough for an entire wedding.

How ironic.

They really wanted to smash that first slice into your mouth– but they couldn't bring themself to ruin your makeup. So, instead, they have you do it to them.

You're both laughing and enjoying yourselves the entire time.

You cover their mouth in kisses afterwards. Just helping them "clean up" like the helpful doll you are.

The two of you sit close together, talking about anything and everything. Music softly plays in the distance as you both had brought your favorite records.

It's only then do they decide it's safe to be a little greedy. Their tattooed hand lands atop your crossed leg, slowly creeping up your thigh as they feed you cake from their mouth to yours. Every exchange gets a verbal response from you– long, drawn out moans of approval. Not quite sexual– not yet– but you certainly were known to be a tease. Is it any wonder you only did it when your mouths touched?

Hm. Strange.

Sarcasm.

Though it doesn't help that someone gets a little too hot under the collar and begins to unbutton their shirt a bit, revealing all those tattoos only you really get to fully appreciate.

Now– we've reached the present– and you've just woken up from your nap on the way to your little honeymoon surprise.

"Did you sleep well, mi reina?" They place a kiss to your forehead.

You yawn softly. "For the most part. Too much sugar to sleep comfortably."

They nuzzle you. "Well, don't make yourself sick! We can always give it out at the bar."

The car comes to a halt. Sloan tips the driver a generous amount before grabbing you bridal style out of the back seat you shared.

"You're not looking, are you?" They ask.

"No! I promise!" You can't help but giggle– they were so serious about your surprise.

You feel them heading up a set of stairs. Twists. Turns. It almost feels like you're heading in circles for a moment before you feel them place you against the plushest chair? Couch? You've ever felt.

"I have to open the door. Sorry!" They're quick about it– it opens with a soft click before you're back in their arms again.

"Are you ready?" They ask.

"Hm. Can I take a guess first?" You playfully respond.

It earns a soft laugh from them. "Okay, go ahead."

"Is it... the honeymoon suite on the top floor of that fancy hotel in the city that overlooks everything? Complete with candlelight and rose petals?" You smile.

"That was our third date! Do you really think I'm that unoriginal?" You feel them reach around and start to untie the blindfold around your eyes.

The first thing you see is their gleaming face.

"Oh! Good! Your makeup didn't smudge. Although, I'm sure you want to wash it off anyway, hm?" They straighten their stance and toss the blindfold aside.

No candlelight. No rose petals.

What you did see, however, was even more breathtaking than that.

In the distance, the moonlight lays like a blanket over the calm Pacific Ocean waves. The tide had just rolled in– there are no people left– it was just you and them overlooking the beach in one of the fanciest houses you had only seen in magazines or movies.

Your mouth falls slightly agape. There's enough moonlight to fill the entire house with light– no need for candles. The furniture was all high end. You felt like you were dreaming, you could barely believe your eyes.

You glance back over at your beloved. They're illuminated by the moon against their back, leaving their front in pure darkness, yet you could still see their softened face just a bit.

"I saved up." Is all they said.

"You– bought this place?!" You could hardly believe what you were hearing. "As in– it's yours?!"

"Ours." They smile. "But, yes."

Your hands cover your face. You're so entirely overwhelmed with happiness that you're not sure what to do with yourself– laugh, or cry, or scream, or all three– but overall you can't bring yourself to do anything.

You just listen to the ocean waves.

Their hand ruffles your hair.

"You deserve the best. So I got the best." They kneel down in front of you.

They delicately take hold of your hands and move them from your face. They're met with the most precious expression– a smile of pure joy and disbelief, your eyes gleaming like the jewels they are.

"Let's get you cleaned up then, hm? It's been a long day." They offer.

They're more than happy to help you out of your dress and they're exceptionally gentle undoing the pearl button at the top of the neck before unzipping the rest. They do not let it touch the floor for a single second– the moment it slips off your body it instantly rests on a silk hanger with a protective wrap to prevent getting dust on it in the future. It was sacred to them– more than any artifact or priceless gemstones. The fabric still holds your perfume even now, and secretly they'd hope it never fades.

"Is all of that really necessary?" You look back at them, only wearing enough to preserve your modesty.

"Uh, yeah!" They hang the dress up before looking back at you. "You wore it, that makes it priceless."

You smile. They're so cheesy– but that's just another reason you loved them so much.

...

The bath water was lavender scented with soft bubbles drifting around on its oiled surface. You lean back against the warmed marble before closing your eyes to relax.

Then you hear running.

"I'm jumping in!"

"Please do not–"

They stop just before they reach the bath.

"Do you really think I'm twelve years old?" They laugh, slowly getting in next to you.

"Sometimes I wonder." You rest your head on their tattooed shoulder.

They grab a nearby towel and dampen it, wiping off all that beautiful makeup you had done all by yourself.

"It feels like I'm destroying a masterpiece..." They pout. "You'll do your face up like that again, right?"

"Just for you. It's a relief to get it off. My face has been bugging me all day..." You sigh as they continue cleaning your face.

A few more wipes before all your makeup is transferred to the wet towel instead. You finally felt like you could breathe, and relax into their touch a little more this time. They discard it onto the bath mat– wrapping their inked up arms around you before the two of you settle further into the water. All of their scars, cuts, burns and grazes are illuminated by the soft light of the moon, and you let your fingers brush over the roughed up skin you've recognized as a second home.

You feel them nestle in your neck, the metal mixed with flesh igniting your nerves with every kiss they place on your silky soft skin.

"You need to wash your face too, you know. It's important." You chide them lightly.

"Later. Let me spend some more time with you." You can feel their breath close in against your shoulder with a smile. "Unless you're tired of me." They tease.

"You'd have to pry me off of you with a crowbar, I'm afraid." Your hand reaches up to touch their face from behind.

A soft laugh stirs from their chest. More kisses, more than you can count. You feel chills erupting on your skin. The two of you are quiet for a little longer, watching the moon rise higher into the sky as stars twinkle into view. It's only then does the darkness overtake the two of you.

"Hm. Maybe candles weren't such a bad idea." You mention.

"Just because it almost started a fire once doesn't mean it could happen every time." They point out. "But... I don't need the light to love on you."

They tighten their arms around you into a hug. More kisses besiege your wet skin– earning soft giggles from you as their hands slowly begin to roam. Their mouth wraps around your neck and lightly bites down to leave marks behind, softly sucking to leave a hickey behind. Your giggles turn to gentle whimpers– leaning your head back to give them more access.

A hand makes its way to your chest and gives it a delicate squeeze, catching you by surprise. Their fingers slide across the hardened bud of your nipple and gives it a playful flick, setting your nerves on fire and taking in every sound you make as a result. The opposite hand mimics these same actions, making sure to get you as excited as they can.

"I love all the little sounds you make." They whisper to you.

Their fingers continue to trace circles into the most sensitive parts of your breasts. You don't hold back on those noises they enjoy so much, hearing them breathe those cutesy nicknames into your ear as they place a kiss to the back of it. Every delicate repetition makes your back arch slightly– enough to lean further into the touch– and your hands reach out to rest on their knees to ground yourself. You already felt your head starting to tread in all those dizzy chemicals.

After a few minutes you feel one of their hands starting to stray again, this time lower, gliding across your stomach where it gives you an affectionate grab before continuing lower.

"Rushing to the best part already, hm?" You playfully vex them.

Another smile presses against your sensitive skin. "You're not coming just once tonight."

"You promise?" You add.

"No need to." Their hand finally sneaks between your legs where it so happily belongs.

Your thighs involuntarily part further when their fingers teasingly prod against your mound. They begin tracing against the edges of your folds, driving you further back into their warm body as your pulse pounds underneath their loving touch. They take a minute more to play with you– massaging circles on the outside of where you need them– enjoying all those delightful whimpers and whines a little too much.

"Stop teasing me!" You pout.

"I can't help it..." They laugh. "You're cute when you're mad."

"Hmph! You're no fair!" You sigh.

"See? Absolutely adorable." They nuzzle you again.

You turn to look at them, but you catch their lips against yours instead. The metal protruding from their lips pokes against yours repeatedly, not letting you get a single word in as their fingers dive inside and give you exactly what you crave. Once more you're caught by surprise– but at least it's a good one– because they're already devouring all those sweet moans you're making. They can tell you were already soaking wet, and not just from the bath water. Your slick was so evident that you're almost a little embarrassed about it.

Their tattooed fingers trace quick, tight circles around the heartbeat between your thighs. You let out heavy breaths between every kiss, whimpering and whining whenever they slowed down their pace to edge you. You only pull away from their face long enough to complain.

"Go faster!" You bite your lip, pathetically grinding up against their hand.

"I can't have you coming just yet! We just got started." You can practically hear the grin on their face.

"No...! Please?" You beg.

They briefly return to their usual pace and feel you squirm up against their toned figure. They loved teasing you so much, and it never goes unrewarded. After a full minute of giving in to your pitiful begging, they go right back to teasing you– just as they love to do.

"I'll finish myself off if you're not careful." You warn.

Their other hand moves from your chest and tightly grabs onto your wrist, relaxing just a little to avoid hurting or straining it.

"I have two hands, you know." You snicker.

"Don't make me tie you up." You hear an edge of seriousness in their voice, instantly creating more slick between your legs as a result. "You'll be a good girl, won't you, muñeca?"

The hand between your thighs stops moving all together.

The idea of being tied up sounds... better than you'd like to admit. In the darkness you bite your lip again.

"... and if I'm not?" You tease.

They're quiet for a moment, all you can feel is their hot breath tingling against your flushed flesh.

"Then I'll just have to show you who's in charge, then."

They start tracing those quick, tight circles around your aching clit as the pleasure begins to grow inside your hips again. You look back to kiss them again– loud moans to encourage them to keep going, and they do– but you had no idea just what they had in mind.

"You'll tell me when you're close, won't you, mi reina?" Their voice goes back to being sweet.

"Mm– keep going!" You beg them.

They do as they're told. Every repetition has your legs shaking, bliss stirring inside your lower stomach, involuntary moans filling your beach house alongside the sound of the distant ocean. More feverish kisses are exchanged between the two of you as the minutes tick past.

Their fingers do not relent– no more teasing, no more edging– only stopping to bury two fingers deep inside of you every so often and tap against that inner sweet spot. You arch your back against them again, throwing your head back on their shoulder as your eyes squeeze shut.

"C-close! I'm close!" You whine.

They stop.

You gasp.

"I'll only let you finish on one condition." They kiss your neck to keep you teetering on the edge.

You don't reply, you just pitifully grind against their hand again trying to finish yourself off– but they won't let you.

"You have to be good for me. Okay?" They whisper.

"Okay! I'm sorry! I was just teasing earlier!" You cry.

A light laugh escapes their throat. "Thought so."

They send you over the edge with a few strokes, letting you ride out your orgasm completely while you aggressively kiss them as hard as you can. It was a moment you sincerely wanted to relive again and again– you revel in it, near unable to control yourself as the fireworks slowly finish and you find yourself reentering reality after swimming in that beautiful dopamine high.

They let you relax for a minute before wrapping their arms back around you.

"Good girl." They praise you.

...

The two of you finish up your bathing and they're kind enough to finally search for a nightlight to help you with your hair and skin routine.

"I have a little gift for you." They break the silence.

"Hm? What is it?" You look at them in the mirror as they comb various products through your lovely hair.

"It's– something I've wanted to give you for a while, but... never got around to for some reason." They admit.

"I'm sure it's wonderful, whatever it is." You smile.

They disappear for only a moment to grab a small box from the bedroom.

"I– well... I'll let just let it speak for itself." A soft blush paints itself across their lightly tattooed face.

You take the ribbon between your lotion covered fingers and pull as hard as you can. It unravels with relative ease, and you carefully take the top of the box off to reveal what was probably the most beautiful lingerie you had ever laid your eyes on.

It comes with a lace flower choker, dark jewels falling in a line from the center.

The dress itself was even better– intricate designs twisting and wrapping all around the mesh fabric connected to straps with the same falling bead pattern from your choker.

You could hardly wait to try it on– and they were more than willing to help you.

It starts with the dress. They adjust the straps and garter accordingly and made sure you were nice and comfortable. Then, their inked hands wrap around and fasten the choker around your neck.

The person in the mirror was almost unrecognizable– the exact same way you felt in your wedding dress.

Their face was bright red. Yet it was almost comical to them– behind you stood a rugged mobster covered head to toe in tattoos and piercings, and in front of them was the most beautiful doll they'd ever met in their entire life.

"You're gorgeous." Is all that comes out of their mouth.

You turn to them.

"I feel gorgeous." You tell them.

They lean in to nuzzle you.

"Good. You deserve to feel like that every day of your life." They place kisses to your face, holding it in their hands like treasure.

...

The bed was the softest one you had ever laid on: sheets and pillow cases made out of silk. It rivaled even that of the honeymoon suite for your third date– but if you had to choose, this one was much better only because you're sleeping next to your beloved not as their girlfriend, but as their wife.

"It's getting late. We should probably sleep..." You mention, but they're currently occupied by placing multiple kisses down your neck.

"I said you were coming multiple times tonight. I intend to make that happen." They remind you.

"It's okay, once is enough, really." You reassure them.

There's enough light from another nightlight that it illuminates their dark circles, yet they are not deterred in the slightest.

They shake their head.

"I know you must be getting tired though. Don't wear yourself out." You reach out to ruffle their espresso colored curls.

"It's okay. Don't worry about me, just focus on yourself... and how good I'm going to make you feel." They smile.

They resume kissing the side of your neck, trailing further down until they reach your chest. Their mouth wraps around one of your exposed breasts, feeling your nipple harden with every flick of their tongue. They instantly drink in all those cute whimpers and whines you make, feeling you lightly arch into their touch and forcing more of yourself inside their mouth... and as much as they'd love to do this forever, they don't want to make you wait any longer.

It was going to be an all nighter– they just hadn't told you yet.

They spend a minute more teasing you before their hand slips between your legs once again. Just as they'd thought: you're beyond ready.

They look up at you with their honey colored eyes, finally freeing your chest from the assault of their mouth.

"Anything specific you'd like to start with?" They ask. "It's all about you tonight."

"You're so sweet." You affectionately ruffle their hair again. "You deserve to feel good, too. Can I help out?" You offer.

"You don't need to lift a finger tonight. It's just about you, okay? Whatever you want, just say the word and I'll do it." They reassure you.

You softly sigh– they were always so difficult. Good thing two can play at that game.

"Can I ride that cute face of yours, then?" You ask.

They grin. "Of course you can."

It takes a little adjusting before you throw your legs across their face. You feel their breath against your wet slit and you lose focus for a moment– but as soon as your eyes reopen you remember your mission.

"I'm going to help. So no complaints, okay?" You chide.

"Yes, m'am!" They answer.

As soon as you feel the first flicker of their tongue between your thighs, a dreamy sigh leaves your mouth. You nearly forgot about their tongue piercing, already lapping up against your sensitive center. Even the extra metal on their face provides the perfect ridges to ride against and you can feel yourself spiraling quickly out of control.

Focus. You tell yourself. Focus.

You shake your head and lean down to slip their boxers farther down their tense thighs. You're greeted with even more metal. It's nothing you're not used to, and it's even a bit of a turn on, but in the back of your mind you couldn't help but wonder what possessed them to get so many. Regardless, it's certainly attractive. Your mouth is already filling itself with drool.

Before you start with your mouth, you playfully tease them with your finger first by gently rolling it against the metal of their horizontal clitoral piercing. Just as you thought– their excitement grows– licking you faster as their fingernails dig into your hips. Then you feel saliva forming at the edges of your mouth, and you open enough to let it drip where your finger lays before rubbing it in.

They whine in response– you'd never get tired of hearing that.

You lower your head further to replace your finger with the tip of your tongue, playing with all the metal you can reach and eventually wrapping your mouth around their center and sucking softly, letting the tip flicker over the heated metal every few seconds. Meanwhile your finger moves to prod against the piercing of their folds instead. Their slick begins to cover your face the more excited they get and you welcome it fully.

You feel their breathing increase as they work on you further, whimpers reverberating in their throat with every touch.

You continue lapping up all the juices they're making as your finger moves from their folds to insert itself within them, glazing past their fourchette piercing with extra care. It sends electricity through their nerves as you insert a second finger for an even bigger response. Their hips buck upwards from the sensation as it earns you even more sounds of pleasure on their end.

And you hardly go neglected, either– they're busy lapping and sucking and flicking their pierced tongue against your sopping wet core to the point you're lightly grinding down on their face just as you had asked for earlier. You can feel the metal embedded in their face touching you in the best ways– providing the best stimulation you could possibly ask for.

You lose yourself in it again, sliding your fingers in and out as their name falls from your mouth. It only serves to encourage them further.

"Ah– are you close?" You look back at them, their face hidden underneath the curves of your hips.

"Closer than I'd like to be–" Their breath itches as you crook your fingers a little more. "You really love making sure I come fast, don't you?"

You giggle.

"Maybe I'm just too cute to handle?" You tease.

"That. And you know what I like, maybe a little too well..." They admit.

You enjoy the boost to your ego.

Then, it's right back to it.

You're not sure how many minutes pass by before your an absolute writhing mess above them, chasing your second orgasm as pleasure begins to build inside your tired hips. You feel yourself losing focus again– all the metal, all the stimulation, it's all too much– and you feel yourself barely hanging on.

"Ah–! I'm so close–! Please tell me you are, too?" You cry.

Their face is a flushed mess.

"Keep going– don't stop–" They growl. Not out of malice, but out of desperation.

You do as your told.

They were the one to come first– and you finished just seconds afterwards. You can't move as you bury your face into the sheets, feeling your nerves finally beginning to settle as your second orgasm hits you harder than your first one ever could've. It takes a few minutes for you to recenter yourself and crawl over to them, collapsing by their side as an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you close.

You're both ruby red and out of breath.

"You... did finish, right?" You ask.

They look at you. Then they smile.

"I did– you did such a good job, mi reina." They kiss your forehead.

It's only then do they reach over for one of their cherry flavored cigars and an ash tray. The soft scent of cherry tobacco mixes with salty sea air and the silage of your nightly perfume.

"I– I don't know if I'm going to up for another round." You bite your lip. "After all that... I'm so tired."

They lovingly rub your back as they take a drag.

"Don't worry about it. If you're up for it, then we'll have some more fun. Just relax right now, muñeca."

You squeeze your eyes shut and listen to the sound of their heartbeat.

... and that definitely has to be their favorite part of them all.

#rambles #gangster au

9 notes · View notes

maya-tl · 6 months

Note

Hm?... maybe something about Medic trying to find the right time to propose to Spy but ended finding Spy was also planning the perfect proposal moment. Cuz that might be a good fanfic?

(sorry to bother you, it's also my first time to ask someone with sheer confidence— )

They had talked of marriage before.

They had talked, oh yes, but they had been new and fragile then, a bloom waiting for either the right rains to make it blossom or the right drought to make it wither. The topic of marriage had been a simple conversation starter, something to keep them awake through the night when sleep didn’t matter.

Medic had been married before. An arranged thing, something his parents had agreed to in his stead—she had been too tame, too traditional for him, and he too wild, too sharp, too different, too much for her. It had been a bitter and miserable affair, a laughable attempt at normalcy, and in the end the only thing they had ever agreed on was that they weren’t for each other.

Spy’s story was a different one. He had loved her, certainly—the proof was right in front of their eyes, loud and brash with a side of Bostonian fire—but they had never been in love, and she had never asked him for more than he could give despite everything it would have meant for her.

“I would’ve stayed,” Spy had told him in the quiet of the night, looking more vulnerable than Medic had ever seen him, “I would’ve given it all up and settled, spent all my remaining days in that house with her if she only said the word. I would’ve been comfortable.”

Medic had simply turned to face him and whispered, “But would you have been happy?”

Spy had fallen silent. Looking at his tortured profile in the moonlight slipping through the window, Medic knew it was as close to a confession as he would ever get. They hadn’t spoken about marriage since, even as the months turned into years and they learned everything there was to know about each other, even after they swore their teammates to secrecy and stopped hiding themselves behind closed doors and false pretences.

Medic had looked at him one New Year’s celebration, just as the clock hit midnight and their team erupted into cheers in the background, had watched Pyro’s fireworks dance off his eyes and highlight the curve of his soft smile and decided that he was the one. He was his only choice, his forever after, his today and all of his tomorrows.

The engagement ring came a month and a half later—he’d had it custom-made, of course, and spent a fortune on the design and a little under a fortune on the jeweller’s silence. Spy had told him once that he wasn’t too fond of golden accessories and found that silver tones better complimented his complexion, and so Medic had kept that in mind and gone in the opposite direction of tradition. He’d chosen a split-band, beautifully carved platinum ring inlaid with white moissante and topped with a one-of-a-kind, trillion-cut blue diamond.

When he first held it up to the light it shone like a rainbow in the water, so brilliant it left him blinking spots from his vision. It was perfect. He set it within a thin, royal blue velvet ring box, also custom-made so he could easily conceal it, and then went about trying to do the actual proposal.

Trying being the key word. He didn’t debate much over the words he would say—a simple ‘marry me’ would be more than enough for Spy, who would appreciate the gesture far more than the words themselves—or even the place—ideally somewhere private enough that they were unlikely to be interrupted. No, that was all fine. It wasn’t even that he was nervous.

It was the timing.

He couldn’t do it on the battlefield. The tides of a battle could turn at any moment and there were too many things to focus on, such as crushing the enemy and not dying. Medic himself had to keep an eye on all his teammates and Spy had to keep an eye on all their assailants, and even if they somehow got a moment to themselves in the middle of the carnage the atmosphere simply wasn’t right.

He couldn’t do it during dinner. Besides not being private in the slightest, the team ate all of their meals together and one of them was bound to do something inappropriate the moment Medic pulled out the ring box and ruin the whole thing. Spy would immediately catch on if he made a big deal out of them dining alone too, so that option went out the window early on.

He couldn’t do it in public, much as he’d like to treat Spy to a fancy meal at a fine restaurant and a walk in the park at sunset. The world, sadly, just wasn’t ready for that.

He couldn’t do it in the bedroom. No one would interrupt them, sure, and it was as intimate as it got, but Medic was more than familiar with Spy’s complicated history of setting apart the pleasures of the body from the feelings of the heart. They’d gone down that road before, and the last thing Medic wanted to do was to blur that line again now.

The time of day mattered too. Medic didn’t want to do it in plain daylight or in the middle of the night, even if proposing under the stars was tempting. Spy struggled with insomnia, and preferred sunsets over sunrises besides, so an early morning proposal didn’t feel quite right.

It was maddening.

It also didn’t help that their schedules had begun to conflict lately. Medic knew the reason for his own odd behaviour, late nights spent agonising over the right moment disguised as research projects, and had initially assumed that Spy was going through one of his distance phases. Medic tended to be very hands-on in every aspect of his life, and while Spy welcomed and often even encouraged that, he’d made it very clear that sometimes he simply needed his space. So Medic hadn’t questioned it much, willing to wait it out for a few days—it gave him more time to think and plan.

By the time a week had rolled by, he began to suspect that something else was up. Spy wasn’t exactly avoiding him, they spent roughly the same amount of time together, but there were—quirks in his behaviour that hadn’t been there previously. Medic, who was well-versed in his moods, picked up on them easily, but it was significantly more difficult for him to figure out Spy’s train of thought than it was for Spy to figure out his, no matter how close they were. Only one of them had been trained in espionage all their life.

When he returned to his room from another late afternoon spent in the lab—actually researching this time, more to take his mind off things than to achieve any scientific breakthrough—and found Spy’s suit jacket folded over the desk chair, but no actual sign of Spy, he decided that he’d waited long enough. If the right moment never came, so be it. Neither of them were getting any younger, despite his best efforts and the effects of the respawn system.

He took off his gloves and his coat and hung them in their proper place in the closet, stuffed the ring box in the folds of the front pocket of his pants and set off. It was almost dinnertime and it was Engineer’s turn to cook, so most of his teammates would be swarming the kitchen, which gave him the opportunity to search the base at his leisure.

Spy wasn’t in his own bedroom or his smoking room, or in the firing range, and Medic knew he wouldn’t be hanging around in the living room when he could be fashionably late to dinner. That left only one place that Medic knew he frequented.

The sky was alive with the colours of sunset, soft pinks and warm oranges and fiery reds. A light breeze was cruising over the desert, making the few scattered trees growing near their base shiver and the tumbleweeds dance on the nearest horizon, and the tors and mesas burned like a mirage under the light of the lowering sun.

Spy was leaning against the railing of the balcony, his back turned to the door, and he didn’t acknowledge Medic beyond the miniscule tensing and then relaxing of his shoulders. His tie was loose and the top button of his undershirt undone, which Medic found out when he snaked his arms around his waist and leaned down to press his mouth to his skin.

“Something on your mind, mein schatz?” he murmured, and Spy hummed. He turned his head, allowing them to touch foreheads.

“Many things, lately,” Spy said, too casual to be genuine, “Have you had any success?”

“Success?”

“With your experiments,” Spy said, and Medic caught a knowing glint in his half-lidded eyes, “The reason you have been spending most nights in the laboratory, non?”

Medic huffed out a laugh. His heart felt full. “No,” he said, unable to stop himself from smiling, “Not quite.”

Pop, came a noise, and Spy looked down. Medic held up the box to the light, and the platinum ring glimmered giddily under the rays of sunset, casting shimmering reflections over its soft velvet cushion. The blue diamond shone like a miniature star set into the band—the same colour as Spy’s eyes.

Spy’s head snapped back up, and there was shock there as he searched Medic’s expression for any trace of deceit. Medic knew he wouldn’t find any even if he tried to make it up, as he sometimes did in his more paranoid moments—and indeed Spy seemed to realise this was not some overly complicated prank, because a sheen came over his eyes, and he seemed torn on whether to cry or laugh.

Medic gave his waist a reassuring squeeze. “Marry me,” he said, two words that for them meant a thousand things.

Spy choked out a little laugh and then shook his head as if in disbelief, and for a split moment Medic thought—

But then it was his turn to look on in shock as Spy reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box, revealing an exquisite rose gold ring set with swirling gemstones of a dark and rich red sitting prettily on a white silk cushion.

“There was a manufacturing issue, so it only arrived last week,” Spy said, voice choked up with emotion. Medic thought of how tired and stressed Spy had looked up until the previous week. “I was debating on a time and place, but I—I didn’t think—”

Medic surged forward and pulled him into a deep kiss, and their respective boxes dug into their ribcages as their bodies met in the middle.

“Hey guys, Engie says—what the fuck—”

They broke apart with a gasp, and Scout yelped as Spy shoved him back into the hallway and slammed the door in his face with enough force to make the building shudder. “I’m being proposed to!” he yelled indignantly, and Medic felt his cheeks begin to hurt from all the smiling he was doing.

Spy swivelled back around, ring box still in his hand, and pulled Medic in by the collar of his shirt. “Ask me again,” he whispered against his lips. Medic could do nothing but laugh, and he kissed him one more time just to feel him smile.

“Marry me,” he said.

“Yes,” came the answer, and the sky bled colour behind them as the sun sunk beneath the line of the horizon, signalling the end of today and the dawn of another, brighter tomorrow.

#my_inbox #mehsquid #my_writing #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 gentle surgery #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #I am biting and gnashing my teeth like a rabid animal hoooooo #best fucking request I've ever received in my whole time writing fic I sweaaaarrr. they're motherfucking MARRIED.#(I mean technically not yet but y'all get my point)#this was such a joy to write you have no idea. it's 6 am and I haven't slept a wink because I couldn't stop writing.#this has fulfilled all my needs #I'm soooo weak for proposals and marriage and happily ever afters hoooo *passes out*#thank you for your request fr!! this wasn't a bother in any way shape or form! I hope you like it! <3

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lunar-years · 6 months

Note

oh, ”Stay awake.” for the prompt list if you want?

uhhhh. Undoubtedly this was not the fic fill you were expecting for this prompt. i used it very loosely and I am truly sorry for this result...something consumed me.

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

Roy sits on the balcony of his posh fucking rental, staring out at Marbella’s shore. He’s got private beach access here, a boardwalk that leads to the sand and then down to the swirling deep blue, where a person can float and maybe, if they're lucky, forget themselves for a while in its depths. But the waves are too high to swim today, and anyway, it’s getting dark now.

Beneath him, there’s a massive pool he could swim in instead, if he wanted. Dive in and spend a moment breathless beneath the water. It might do him good, that chance to briefly cut off the oxygen, to move around for a bit underwater, then feel the relief of the first lungful of air when he breaks back up through the surface. He’d do it, if he wasn’t feeling so fucking…stuck. Stuck to this chair, stuck to his stupid life. In need of permanent fissure, that's him. If he could only force himself to walk down to the pool, he thinks, and not look back. Maybe he could drown himself in it, and make it look like an accident.

He's twirling an engagement ring around in his right hand that's meant to be on Keeley’s ring finger.

The diamond is light pink and oval and massive, set into two narrow, curved bands of smaller yet still brilliant diamonds. It’s fucking perfect for Keeley. Showy, but not grotesquely so. Colourful and chic. Fun. Roy had it custom made for her. Let the jewelry consultant talk his ear off about settings and carats, then signed his name on the dotted line for the most expensive options on the list.

Fuck, he’d even showed it off to Rebecca, weeks and weeks ago, before he booked this trip. How fucking embarrassing was that? He’d only just gotten it in from the jeweler, the rock freshly nestled in its deep red velvet box. His boss cooed over it convincingly and agreed that yes, it looked just the ring for Keeley, and yes, the subtle pink hue was awfully inspired, and yes, Keeley would undoubtedly love it. Roy had left her office feeling rather proud of himself, totally oblivious to what she’d probably been trying to tell him between the lines, given the way her eyes went all narrow and her forehead pinched tight right after he’d told her where he was planning to propose, and when. The extravagant trip he envisioned that would end with him down on one knee.

Rebecca had blinked at him and clucked, with a smile like plastic, Wow. Well, I imagine that will come as quite the surprise! Which at the time felt like praise for his careful planning skills and in hindsight seems more like her small way of warning him. Like she’d known all along Keeley was going to say no.

Had everyone? Roy had only told Rebecca and his sister about the ring, but maybe everyone else had guessed it, or assumed it was coming. Assumed, possibly, how it would end, because who in their right mind would want to marry him? He was just the sort to do something this pathetic, to propose in a last ditch attempt to save what was already broken. Maybe they all saw it. He swallows down the rising, unpleasant rush of bile in his throat and thinks back to Keeley spreading stories about him around work, how clingy he was and how needy and how he never left her alone. So this wouldn’t be the first time everyone else knew more about his relationship than he did.

For one fleeting, wild moment, he envisions himself flinging the ring right off this balcony and watching it make its way, impossibly, all the way out to the sea. Gets brief satisfaction at the thought of the ocean swallowing it whole, entrapping it below the waves where he never has to think about it, or look at it, ever again. In his hand, the ring stills its incessant twirling and Roy crushes it under his fingers instead, pressing it so hard against his skin he’s sure it’s going to leave a mark on his palm, and hopes, ludicrously, that it will somehow be permanent. A reminder.

Behind him, inside the villa, Keeley’s asleep on the bed he had covered in rose petals while they were at dinner. Roy thinks he might stay up all night, sitting out here as it gets too dark to see the water below, just to avoid the awkwardness of joining her. Or is he meant to sleep in one of the guest rooms? What, exactly, is the protocol for when your girlfriend turns down your proposal but tells you she does in fact still want to be with you, marriage conversation aside? He’s the only person he knows that that’s happened to; he hasn’t even read about it books.

Roy’s spent the past three weeks alone here, missing her terribly. Has he now ruined their one glorious weekend together on the first night, before it’s even properly begun?

She’d flown in just that morning. Roy took a car to the airport to meet her, feeling jittery and excited in equal measure, happier than he’s felt for days. It had been a long fucking three weeks on his own, hardly able to find time to even FaceTime with her, what with how busy she was with her new firm. The whole time, her parting words before he left her for sunny Spain—You never know, maybe the time apart will do both of us good, babe—looped through his mind on constant repeat, curdling in his gut like sour milk.

Realistically, he knows they’ve been on two separate trajectories for a whole now, like rockets shooting off to two different edges of space, nothing but gulf and galaxies between. This weekend was meant to be their way back to one another, the anticipated culmination of their big compromise: Roy would still go to Marbella, alone, and Keeley would make the time to come join him halfway through, just for the few days she could manage with her new job.

His original proposal plan, the one he told to Rebecca involving a gorgeously romantic six-week couples retreat, had gone out the window the moment she’d turned this trip down, but even so, he’d adjusted it accordingly. Fitted his plans around hers, because that’s what suitable, well-adjusted couples did, wasn’t it? Convinced himself he could be flexible. Convinced himself he could wait. It just needed to happen, he just needed to present her with this ring, and she just needed to slip it onto her finger and say yes—and everything that felt wrong would be fixed.

He’s a fucking idiot.

He should have seen this coming. Even their reunion had felt off. She’d stepped through the baggage claim pulling her cheetah-print suitcase behind her, and subsequentially dropping it at the sight of him in order to run over and leap grandly into his arms. When they kissed, it felt just as good as it always did, like puzzle pieces sliding into place, soothing over the open wound inside of him he hadn’t quite realized he’d been nursing, all this time. But the wound didn’t close just because she was there. As soon as she stepped away again, retracing her steps back to retrieve her suitcase, the gulf only seemed to widen.

So then he'd taken her back to the villa, carrying on about the itinerary he’d spent the first half of his time here perfecting. He’d show her around the place first, give her time to get settled, and after that they’d still have plenty of time to get ready for dinner. He’d booked a private dinner on the water. A romantic, candlelit feast of seafood and drinks and dessert, after which he’d just go for it. He had what he wanted to say all lined up in his head: I love you Keeley. I want to spend forever with you. Then back to their room, which by then would be decked floor to ceiling with rose petals and heart balloons and champagne, ready for their exuberant return.

The first part went even better than planned. As soon as they made it through the front door, Keeley pounced on him, locking her fingers against his back, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him closer with all the hunger and passion and desperation they’d had in the beginning; that thing he’d been chasing for months. Passion got pushed aside when there were emails to check and businesses to run. Sex became a bit of a chore, maybe. But not now. Not anymore.

She let him carry her bridal-style to the master suite, setting her reverently down in the king-sized bed, stripping her adoringly, in between frantic kisses. They fucked hurriedly, Keeley’s suitcase abandoned in the entranceway and all thoughts of unpacking and giving a tour through the house abandoned with it. Then they fucked again, with much less haste. Like they’d finally managed to convince themselves the moment wasn’t about to be ripped away from them and were now letting themselves enjoy the thing proper. She was here now. It was all going to be fine.

After, though. Lying tangled up in the sheets, sweaty and naked and satisfied, Roy said something innocuous about getting up in time for a long shower together before they had to ready themselves for dinner, and the mood in the air shifted. Keeley frowned, “Oh I don’t know babe. Can you still cancel it? It’s just…” she exhaled and flopped her head back onto the pillows, hair splaying everywhere, “I am so fucking tired. That plane was an absolute misery, there was loads of turbulence and this one crying baby who I seriously think might have been possessed by some sort of crying demon, and…God, it really was awful. Also, before I left I had a meeting with my new employees. They hate me, Roy, I really think they hate me. How am I supposed to run a firm if all of my employees hate me?”

She stopped just long enough to breathe, or maybe she’d caught the look on his face. “Sorry, I know I swore not to talk about work on this trip.” A quick peck of her lips to his cheek, a little plea for forgiveness. It felt cold. “Just us for the rest of the weekend, I promise. So…dinner. What if we order in, just for tonight? We’ll spend the whole evening in bed, it’ll be fantastic. We can take a lazy nap, and then eat whenever we wake up, fuck again, midnight skinny dip in that fucking amazing pool out back—"

Of course she didn’t know about the candles and rose petals and the ring burning a hole in the safe deposit box in the closet, but Roy still stiffened. “No, we can't nap. We have to stay awake,” he bit out quickly. “We have to go to dinner. It’s already set up.”

Keeley kept talking mindlessly, even as Roy’s brain seemed to be burrowing itself in the sand, taking his sanity with it. “Well can’t you just call and postpone it? We can do the fancy dinner tomorrow, babe, once I’m more rested.” She was smiling. Her face seemed to say, this isn’t a big deal, babe.

But it was. Because Roy didn’t want to wait until tomorrow. He loved her today. He wanted this to happen today. The room felt unstable, like the bed was spinning in the opposite direction of the walls. It felt like something was slipping from him that he couldn’t name, even now. He was desperately trying to grasp at it with too-slick fingers even as it evaded his hold. “It has to be tonight, Keeley. There’s a different dinner planned tomorrow,” he snapped.

She stared at him in alarm.

“I have different dinners planned all weekend. I’ve put a lot of time into making this fucking—nice for you. For us. I’ve had a lot of time to put it together, since I’ve been here all the fuck alone.” It was much harsher than he'd intended, but he couldn’t take it back once he'd said it, and he didn't try to. The thing he was trying to save dipped further from his grasp. Keeley’s mouth snapped shut. The words hung in the air between them, heavy in the silence.

“Fine,” Keeley snapped back, eventually. Even her voice sounded more tired than angry, and the guilt gnawed at his chest. “Heaven forbid I want to relax on my bloody holiday. We’ll do it your way, then.” Then she rolled off the bed, shoving aside the sheets as she untangled them from her form, then angrily stomping towards the ensuite.

He made to get up and go after her, but she looked back at him with steely eyes, stopping him in his tracks. “I’m showering, Roy. Alone.”

Of course it went terribly, after that. How could it not? He should have called the whole thing off, should have agreed to lounge around and eat takeaway in bed and do nothing but fuck in the pool. He should have forgotten about the ring for the evening.

(He doesn’t think it would have made any difference. That’s almost the worst part.)

At dinner, the tension between them dissipated on the crests of bottomless cocktails and conversation. On laughter. Keeley looked fucking incredible in a flowery sundress. The food was divine. And the first thing they did was apologize for biting one another’s heads off, agreed that it had just been a long day. A mutual peace offering. Roy fingered the ring in his pocket until the time came to sink to his knee.

When he did, her face shattered. Not in the way he’d wanted it too, the way he’d pictured. Not the kind of shattered that happens when the joy gets so full it could burst. No, this was the same kind of shattered way she’d looked at him when she told him she couldn’t spare the time to spend six weeks with him in Marbella. Like she pitied him, almost. Like she was hoping he’d stop or say it was all a joke. That he’d take it all back.

“Roy,” she started softly, already shaking her head.

Already shaking her head.

“I love you, Roy,” she promised, eyes glistening. The words were a buzz in the background.

(The worst part, by far, is how much he loves her in return. He loves her so much he doesn’t know quite what to do with it. If a proposal isn’t the right place to put it, where is? He doesn’t understand why the love can’t fix them. Why it isn’t enough.)

“We’re not ready for this,” she continued, openly shedding tears by then. Somewhere off to the side, their waiter was probably alarmed, holding the cake with congratulations! swirled onto its plate in dark chocolate that Roy had paid extra for, unsure what to do with it, waiting for instruction. Roy was too humiliated to check for certain. He was still down on one knee. It was starting to throb. Carefully, he raised himself back up.

She was watching him with a look of great remorse as she repeated, “We can’t get married right now, baby. It isn’t…I don’t think it’s the answer, yeah? Maybe eventually, but not now.” It sounded exactly the way we’ll be fine had sounded the day she’d packed up her office in Richmond. Like they definitely wouldn’t be fine. Like her answer to marriage wasn’t not now but quite possibly never.

He’d nodded. He’d lowered himself back into his chair, feeling clammy and numb. He’d waved the waiter over to close the bill.

Staring out at the sea that’s gone dark, he tucks the ring back into his pocket with the startling, crippling, clear realization that he's got to break up with her. He feels like his heart has been wrenched out of his chest and stomped on, then shoved back in for him to live with. He feels like she’s right, and it wouldn’t have worked even if she’d said yes.

He’s such a fucking mess, he thinks, and she deserves better. She’s on top of the world, and here he is dragging her down into the water. Maybe they both know they’re broken beyond repair, just waiting for the other one to call it off. He’s not sure he can do it. These days, he misses her even when she’s in the next room.

Fuck.

He slides open the door to the balcony and steps back inside after one last glance at the ocean, which he can hear even if he can’t see. Fuck the guest bed. He makes his way into the bedroom and crawls in next to her. A couple more rose petals flutter to the ground.

“Roy,” she breathes, as soon as he’s settled himself under the thin sheet, the air too hot and humid, even with the AC cranked, to sleep under anything heavier. Her voice is quiet and sad and cracked and small. It sounds like she’s been crying the whole time he’s been outside.

He shuts his eyes and says, “I’m sorry,” to the air. He doesn’t know quite what he’s apologizing for. Asking her to marry him? Assuming she’d say yes? Even just thinking about breaking up with her just now? Her, the best person to ever happen to him? The best anything, end of. He draws himself closer and wraps his arm around her torso, just to feel her—her skin, the smell of her hair and the dip and fall of her stomach as she breathes in and out.

It’s its own familiar kind of self-torture, holding something in his hands as he loses it slowly. Like the last year of football, magnified by ten. Waiting for the final hammer to fall as he cradles the thing he loves in the palm of his hand and feels it drip through.

“Are we still okay?” she whispers, cupping her fingers over his own clasped ones. Maybe he’s not the only one desperately clinging on.

He tells her yes, but the truth is that he doesn’t know.

The deeper truth, the one he can’t face, is that he doesn’t think so.

He thinks it’s already over.

#ring description is based on blake lively's engagement ring which really is perfect for keeley :)#roykeeley #ted lasso #roy kent #keeley jones #pre breakup breakup fic tbh #hurt no comfort #angst #marbella #I'M SO SORRY #my writing #my fics #proposal fail #writing games #asks #i promise you my last fic from this prompt game is going to be the 'jamie gets whumped' fic yall (and me) deserve.#<333 #ship post

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