#but I have just. way too many. I could not pick even if I spent a whole week thinking about it

[sinstear]

ㅤ❝ I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY AND ONCE A WEEK FOR YOU ❞

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpairing. milf!abby x mechanic!reader

masterlist. warnings. 18+, sub!abby, dom!reader, milf!abby, mechanic!reader, dirty talk (a lot of it, oops), fingering, strap usage, abby just being a needy brat, breeding kink, there’s probably more a/n. merry christmas gays <3 this is a small installation to the milf!abby au me and @vifilms have created. if it’s a little confusing on the jump, don’t worry, you’ll get more parts explaining their relationship before or whatever soon. happy holidays, and if you don’t celebrate it, i hope you all have a blessed day either way <3

milf!abby who doesn’t hesitate to text you when it comes down to her friends having a small get-together, her first instinct was to ask you to come with her, and she was a little too giddy and excited when you replied with ‘of course, more time to spend with a pretty lady’ what she would never admit was that she spent an ungodly amount of minutes looking at your reply, apples of her cheeks crimson red before she replied with her own ‘sounds good, can’t wait to see you’ unaware that on the other side of town, you were already rummaging around in your closet, trying to find something perfect enough, that will go with whatever she picks, to wear. apart from ripped jeans, t-shirts, and a few jackets, you were at a loss. confused on what to wear to a small party with people who would dress up a little more … sophisticated-like. the bright colors, the pretty pearls. that wasn’t you. you were content with your hoodies, your jeans, your button-up shirts, and sweatpants. not what they love to wear.

milf!abby can’t focus the second you walk through the door that same night, dressed in a pair of jeans, heavy boots paired with a white shirt, and a jacket. she’s seen you in nothing but a tank top, oil and grease covering your arms, and even then you looked hot working on her car every day, you looked ethereal and more handsome tonight. abby doesn’t know how to react when she finds you talking to some of her friends, offering to help if they need it, seconds later. she thinks it’s kind that you are offering even though you were a guest. one of the many things she adores about you. always wanting to help.

milf!abby drags you away from the party not even 15 minutes later. her hands cupping your face, while yours are instantly pulling down the dress she was wearing, down over her shoulders, and bunching it around her hips as you cup both her tits and squeeze them in the palm of your hands, the second she pulls you into the bathroom. the soft sounds of her whines and whimpers fill the echoed room while you simply grin against her neck, pinching and pulling at her hard pebbled nipples. her head rests against the bathroom door, the whimpers tumbling from her shamelessly has you growling into her neck and slipping your leg between her thigh. a sinister grin appearing on your lips at her sudden gasp, wrapping her arm around your neck and holding you to her. “i bet if i put my hand up your dress right now, you’re gonna be soaked, hm?” you muttered against her flushed skin. “don’t even have to tell me, i know.” your mocking words had abby’s heart pounding in her chest, cunt clenching around nothing and cheeks flushed while she nods desperately. “love your tits so much, so fuckin’ pretty”

milf!abby’s eyes roll back in her head when you’re placing your hand over her mouth, muffling the sounds thats dripping from between her cherry red swollen lips as you bury your fingers deep in her cunt, groaning softly under your breath at the way she clenches around you tightly. “you know how much i love to hear you, but you gotta be quiet f’me, sweetheart, hm?” you coo, kissing away the tears streaking her face. “i know you can do it, don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

“m’sorry, just feels s’good.” abby whimpered against your hand, voice hitching when the palm of your hand rubbed against her neglected clit. fingers clutching at your crumpled shirt, knuckles white with the sheer iron grip she has on you. it makes you laugh, making her whine with a deeper blush knowing just how fucking needy she is. needy for you to touch her, making a mess of her, and have her weak in the knees. you only have to look at her, and she’s begging for you.

“yeah, i can tell, practically soaking my hand.”

that just makes abby clench around you harder. 

milf!abby clings to you for dear life and whimpers loudly into your neck when she gushes all over your fingers minutes later, slick running down the inners of her thigh and another whimper is ripped from her throat as you gently pull your fingers out of her cunt, bringing those fingers straight to your mouth with a grin. her pupils dilate more, if that’s even possible when you wrap your lips around them and suck. the moan you let out at the taste of her, has her rubbing her thighs together again. an action that you don’t miss. “taste just as sweet as last night, sweetheart.” you hummed with a cheeky grin, leaned forward, and kissed the side of her mouth. laughing at her whine. “patience, baby. just a little longer, and i promise, you can have my cock later.”

milf!abby is pathetic and whiny when you’ve finally got her bent over the sink, dress still bunched over her hips, panties in your back pocket for a keepsake, and she can’t hold back on those sounds you love to hear so much when your cock is deep inside her cunt. stretching her out perfectly, like her pussy was made for you. you could tell she was struggling to keep it down, not wanting her friends to hear. you on the other hand, were crazy. you wouldn’t care at all if they heard the pretty sounds you were pulling from her with each thrust of your hips. 

“wish i could feel you” you groaned, hands iron grip on her hips, pulling her back and down on your cock. your eyes dropping to shamelessly watching the way her cunt practically sucks your strap back inside of her. only for your eyes to snap up at the soft whine to find abby with her head buried in the bend of her elbow, trying to muffle her sounds. “lemme hear you, baby, yeah?” you cooed, tangling your fingers into her soft blonde locks and pulled her head back carefully. “yeah, you look so pretty like this” you smirked at her through the mirror. “look so sexy while i split you open on my cock.”

abby wasn’t sure whether to look at you or herself. her hair was disheveled, her light makeup ruined, cheeks flushed, hips bruised due to your grip, and her lips all red and swollen. if you both walked out of the bathroom now, everyone would know. they would all know what happened, and maybe that excites abby a little because her cunt clenches around your cock, gasps, and jolts against the mirror when you’re removing your hand from her hip, to reach down between her legs and rub light circles on her clit. “just needed to have all your worries and thoughts fucked out that pretty head of yours hm? don’t worry, sweetheart, m’gonna fuck you until you can barely remember your own name.”

the blonde opens her mouth to reply, brain completely empty and cheeks flushed darker red if that’s even possible, but her attempt at trying to reply to your words fail when you angle your hips just perfectly, your cock is deliciously rubbing that spot deep inside her and abby’s hand is quick to slip between her legs and rub circles on her clit with you. “fuck, fuck, right there, please please—” her voice breaks and her head slumps against her mirror, her breath fogging up the glass. “i need—”

“what do you need, hm baby? need me to fuck you until you can’t walk? mark you up? show everyone you’re mine?” you listed, groaning against her neck and fucking her hard, rubbing her clit faster. “need me to fill you up, s’that what you need? fill you up and make you a mama?”

“yes! yes yes, please—” abby’s chokes out, a little too late to warn you or barely registers a warning as her body tenses beneath you and gushes over your cock with a loud gasped whimper that has you putting your mouth over her mouth, not wanting her friends to know what was happening, even if it was something you so badly wanted deep down. “oh—” she sighs against your hand, eyes fluttering closed again as you slowly fuck her through her orgasm.  

“me saying i wanna make you a mama did it for you, huh?” you laughed against her ear, your breath fanning her skin hotly as you ran your nose up and down her neck. enjoying the way she lifts her head up and looks at you through the mirror. completely fucked out. only for you to groan softly when she’s pushing back against you with a whine. “sweetheart,”

“wanna make you cum” 

“later, you can do whatever you want”

milf!abby can’t avoid the grins and smirks her friends give her when you both finally make your way back downstairs to find them in the kitchen. they wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the fact that abby was patting down her hair, fixing her dress. or you, in all your glory, were butting up your shirt, not caring at all that they were grinning your way. “have fun, abby?” one teased, eyeing up the marks on her neck. “it looks like you guys both had a lot of fun”

glaring at her friend, abby simply huffed, wrapped her arm around yours and scowled. “stop it!” she mumbled, trying to hide the obvious blush coating her face. while you, being a shit, were just laughing softly against her head. “don’t encourage them!”

“m’not doing anything” you grinned, hand slipping down to her lower back and kissing behind her ear. a place you know that always has her melting in your hands. “you don’t have to tell me you had fun, the sounds you were making are enough for me to know, sweetheart.” you whispered in her ear before walking away into the kitchen. that stupid fucking smirk, a smirk she loves a little too much, resting on your lips.

milf!abby who cannot wait until this little party is over so that she can go home and hold you up on your promise of letting her do whatever she wants to do to you. for the time being, she’s just going to have to sit there and let her friends tease her about the sounds that were coming from the bathroom, and ignoring the way you simply looked at her, slumped between two of her friends, legs spread with a beer in your hand and a grin on your face each time she would grow redder at their constant teasing. she just needed to get this party out of the way so she could have you all to herself once again, free to do whatever she wanted, and you were excited, to say the least. 

[little-jana]

"Christmas With The Hotchner Boys"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, mentions of being alone, being called a "good girl", Jack being the cutest little Christmas elf

Words: 1.65k

Summary: Nobody should be alone on Christmas, the Hotchners make sure of that!

a/n: This is for anyone that feels lonely during the holidays! Merry Christmas! xo

Christmas wasn’t supposed to feel this lonely.

I stared at the blinking lights of my tiny tree, tucked into the corner of my living room. The scent of pine lingered faintly, but the holiday spirit hadn’t quite settled over me. It was my first Christmas in years spent away from my family, a choice born out of necessity rather than desire. A looming work deadline and a snowstorm that canceled flights had left me here—alone, or so I thought.

My phone buzzed on the counter, drawing me out of my thoughts.

Hotch.

Seeing his name flash on my screen made my heart flutter, a reaction I’d grown used to over the months. Aaron Hotchner had a way of showing up exactly when I needed him, even if he didn’t realize it.

I picked up the phone, trying to keep my voice steady. “Hotch, hey. What’s up?”

“Hi,” he said, his deep voice warm and familiar. “I just wanted to check in. I know you said you weren’t going home for Christmas. How are you holding up?”

I smiled softly, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m fine. Just a little... quiet around here.”

There was a pause, the kind of comfortable silence I’d grown to appreciate with him. “I thought that might be the case,” he said finally. “That’s why I’m outside your building.”

I blinked, certain I’d misheard him. “You’re... what?”

“Outside,” he repeated, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Can you buzz me in?”

I hurried to the intercom, my heart pounding as I pressed the button. A few moments later, there was a soft knock at my door.

When I opened it, there he was, standing in the hallway with a small wrapped package in one hand and a faint smile on his face. But he wasn’t alone.

“Hi,” he said, stepping inside with Jack close behind him, clutching a box of cookies.

“Hi,” I said, my eyes flicking between the two of them. “What are you... what are you doing here?”

“Well, Jack and I were making cookies, and we realized we might’ve made too many,” Aaron said, his tone so casual it almost made me laugh. “And I didn’t want you to spend Christmas Eve alone.”

Jack grinned up at me, his cheeks pink from the cold. “Dad said we should come over because Christmas is better with friends.”

I felt a lump rise in my throat as I knelt down to Jack’s level. “Is that so?”

He nodded earnestly. “And we brought the good cookies! Not the burnt ones.”

I laughed softly, ruffling his hair. “Well, thank you for sharing. I’m honored.”

Aaron cleared his throat, holding out the wrapped package. “And this is for you.”

I took it carefully, my fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply.

I unwrapped the package slowly, revealing a leather-bound journal with a sleek, elegant design. It was beautiful, thoughtful, and so unmistakably him.

“You mentioned wanting to start journaling,” he said, almost shyly. “I thought this might help.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away quickly. “Aaron, this is perfect. Thank you.”

Jack tugged on my sleeve, holding up the box. “Do you have a tree? We could put cookies under it for Santa.”

I glanced at Aaron, who gave me a small shrug and a smile. “What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I said, leading Jack into the living room where my modest little tree stood.

Jack immediately set to work arranging cookies on a plate while I grabbed mugs for hot chocolate. Aaron followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I worked.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” I said, my voice soft.

He shrugged, his gaze warm and steady. “It didn’t feel right, leaving you alone tonight.”

“Still,” I said, meeting his eyes. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

He smiled then, that rare, genuine smile that made my heart ache in the best way. “You don’t have to thank me.”

When we returned to the living room, Jack was carefully inspecting the tree, his head tilted as he studied the decorations.

“It’s pretty,” he said, turning to me with a grin. “But it needs one more thing.”

“Oh?” I asked, crouching down beside him. “What’s that?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small star ornament, holding it up proudly. “We made this at school. Can I put it on?”

“Of course,” I said, helping him find the perfect spot near the top.

As Jack admired his handiwork, Aaron stepped closer, his arm brushing against mine. The warmth of his presence was grounding, and I felt myself relax in a way I hadn’t all night.

“Looks perfect,” Aaron said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I turned to look at him, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of us. His eyes were soft, full of something unspoken, and the air between us felt charged in a way that made my pulse quicken.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

His hand brushed against mine, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down my spine. “Merry Christmas,” he said, his tone warm and intimate.

Jack’s voice broke the moment, calling out from across the room. “Can we watch a movie?”

Aaron chuckled, stepping back. “What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I said, my voice steadier now.

We spent the rest of the evening curled up on the couch, Jack nestled between us as we watched his favorite Christmas movie. His laughter filled the room, and for the first time in days, I felt a true sense of peace.

When the movie ended, Jack had fallen asleep, his head resting against Aaron’s shoulder. I helped Aaron tuck him into the spare bedroom, and as we stood in the doorway, watching Jack sleep, I felt a wave of emotion I couldn’t quite put into words.

“He’s amazing,” I said softly.

Aaron nodded, his expression tender as he looked at his son. “He is.”

We returned to the living room, and as I started tidying up, Aaron caught my wrist, stopping me.

“Leave it,” he said, his voice low.

I turned to face him, my breath catching at the intensity in his eyes.

“Aaron...”

He stepped closer, his hand still holding mine. “You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not used to... this.”

“Letting someone in?” he asked, his tone gentle but firm.

I nodded, unable to find the words.

He smiled softly, his other hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face. “You’re doing a good job,” he murmured. “Better than you realize.”

The warmth in his voice made my chest tighten, and I felt my cheeks heat.

“Good girl,” he said, his thumb brushing against my cheek.

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning, and I felt my knees go weak. His gaze held mine, steady and unwavering, and I realized there was no hiding how much those words affected me.

“Aaron,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Tears filled my eyes, and I reached up, wrapping my arms around him. His embrace was strong, reassuring, and I felt myself relax against him completely.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple.

“Merry Christmas,” I said softly, my heart full to bursting.

[mountttmase]

All That Matters

Note - merry (early) Christmas everyone 🩷 I’ve missed writing dad Mase and he’s just the most precious Christmas angel in this one. I hope you like it and feedback would be very much appreciated 😘

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6.4k

Warnings - fluff and smut

‘What’s that pout for, pretty girl?’ Mason asked as he snaked his arm around your waist. His lips pressing the most gentle kiss to your temple but you just shrugged and pursed your lips.

‘Dunno I just feel a bit meh’ you told him. Feeling a little guilty that you were ruining today a little with your mood but thankfully Mason was the only one to pick up on it and you were hoping it would stay that way.

Christmas was usually your favourite time of year. You just loved all of it and since you’d had the kids, it had only made it more special. You loved decorating the house, cooking for everyone and picking out presents that you knew the special people in your life would love more than anything and the fact Mason was also big on Christmas made it even more fun. A chance for you both to reflect on another year of your lives you’d spent together, learning and loving the other one just like always but there was something about this year where you just couldn’t get into the spirit like usual.

Right now you should have been in your element. You were at your favourite garden centre, surrounded by beautiful twinkling lights as the smell of hot chocolate and sweet treats floated through the air, all whilst the kids got more and more excited about what they were about to do. Discussing with each other their Christmas lists and what they wanted to say to the big man himself but you were more focused on the little boy who was strapped to your chest and looking up at you adorably. His tiny cheeky smile was so much like Mason’s and everytime he directed it your way you felt a wave of happiness and love flood you.

‘Well you better turn that frown upside down before Santa sees it. He might ask you to sit on his knee so he can cheer you up and I won’t be having that’ Mason suddenly butted in, his words making you roll your eyes but you knew he was only trying to make you smile and you could feel the corners of your mouth turning up automatically.

‘Will you stop it’

‘Sorry baby’ he laughed. Pulling you into his side so he could drop a kiss on your head but even his affections went making you feel much better this time. ‘Tell me what’s up’

‘It’s just…’ you trailed off. Not knowing how to vocalise your thoughts anymore just in case you sounded silly but Mason being Mason could read you and when he tipped your chin up so you could look at each other you felt a little weight lifted.

‘What baby?’

‘This is Ryley’s first time seeing Santa right?’ You started. Watching Mason's confused face as he listened on but you knew he was really trying for you.

‘Yeah?’

‘So how many more of his firsts are we gonna blitz our way through in the next month?’ You asked him but he still looked a little bewildered and confused. ‘This is the last time we’ll ever take our baby to meet Santa for the first time. The last time we’ll get to buy one of the kids a my first Christmas jumper or buy them a special bauble for the tree. I just can’t believe we’ve got here like life is going way too quickly for me’

‘Oh sweetheart’ he pouted, squeezing your side to let you know it was okay and he understood but that didn’t mean you still weren’t going to be moody about it. The pair of you had decided that once Ryley was born then that would be it for your family, no more babies so you weren’t struggling and were able to give the ones you have all the love in the world. You were most definitely still on board with your decision but as you made your way through all of Ryley’s firsts it hit you they were also your lasts.

‘Doesn’t help Ollie is basically an old man at this point and probably won’t even believe in Santa next year. Like when did he get so big?’ You asked, eyes filling with tears that you tried to sniff away but Mason knew you were upset and the sad smile on his face didn’t do much to help you feel any better.

‘You forget my love, Tilly is absolutely mental and will probably still believe in him until she’s 15 just to spite everyone else’ he whispered. Kissing your cheek as he stroked the back of Ryley’s head softly. ‘And this munchkin, well he’s basically fresh from the womb. We’ve got loads of time left with him’

‘Mason he's one in two months’

‘Who’s next?’ you suddenly heard. Looking up to see a younger girl dressed as an elf smiling at the five of you widely and you knew you had to pep yourself up a bit. Placing a hand each on Ollie and Tilly’s shoulder to push them forward a bit as you could tell they were a little apprehensive.

‘That's us guys, come on don’t be nervous. You’ve been waiting all year to see the big man’ you reassured them and your heart almost broke when Tilly reached up to hold Ollie’s hand to ease her nerves.

Ollie let Tilly speak to Santa first, the pair of them getting over their nerves a little bit and you listened intently as to what she was asking for so you could make a mental note as to what you needed to get. Doing the exact same with Ollie but just as you’d expected his list was just full of books and comics.

‘Who’s the little one then?’ Santa asked as soon as Ollie was done and you smiled as you began to undo the straps on your papoose to get him out but before you could speak Tilly was telling Santa who he was about to meet.

‘That's my baby Ryley’ she told him, making Santa laugh as you sat him on Santa's knee but you made sure you stayed close just in case he got scared. Thankfully for you Ryley was fine and seemed more curious about him than anything else. Wanting to reach out and touch his beard as he showed Santa his new trick of poking his tongue out, something you figured Tilly had taught him, so you took it upon yourself to speak on his behalf.

When it was time to go, just after you’d all had your picture taken with the main man, Santa let the kids pick a little present out from his bag. Ollie grabbed one for Ryley too but Tilly was straight over to Mason as she figured something was wrong.

‘Daddy, are you gonna sit on Santa's knee and tell him what you want?’ She asked and you nearly dropped Ryley as you tried to put him back in the papoose as you were laughing and wondering how he was going to works his way out of this one

‘Nah it’s okay baby, I’ve uh… I’ve emailed him mine and mummy’s list already’ he told her as he looked to Santa for some back up and thankfully he caught on.

‘That's true’ Santa smiled. ‘I had a look at it this morning’

‘Come on then, say thank you to Santa’ Mason smiled. Picking Tilly up and popping her on his hip as he guided Ollie out and back to the main shop. You’d promised them you’d get them a treat on the way out so you made a stop in the food hall for a gingerbread man iced to look like Santa for the two older ones before popping everyone back in the car. Passing Ryley a biscuit you’d already packed for him as gingerbread was a bit tough for him and he smiled back at you widely before tucking in.

It wasn’t a long drive home, but Mason had his hand in yours the whole time as he softly sung along to the Christmas songs on the radio. Normally you would be singing along with him but you didn’t feel like it today. Your eyes flickering in between the view outside and your mirror so that you could check up on Ryley but he was conked out already. His little chubby fingers wrapped around Tilly’s as she munched on her biscuit with her free hand and the whole scene made your heart thump in your chest.

When you got home you got Ryley in as carefully as you could so he’d stay asleep and popped him in his room for a nap. The house was unusually quiet and when you were done with Ryley so you went in search of Mason who was laid on the sofa with the tv on quietly and Nala curled up curled up at his feet.

‘Where are the others?’

‘Ollie’s reading and Tilly’s just over there’ Mason told you quietly. Nodding over to the other sofa opposite where Tilly was also fast asleep with a blanket thrown over her little body.

‘Why is she over there?’ You laughed, walking over to Mason who was holding his arms out for you and even though you knew what would happen if you laid down with him, you still went with it. Needing his comfort more than anything as you were feeling so fragile.

‘Cause she’s like a little ball of fire when she sleeps and anyway I wanted us to talk without waking her up’

‘What about?’ You asked. Trying to play dumb but just frowned at you as you nuzzled into his neck, feeling your shoulders relax for the first time that day.

‘You feeling any better?’ He asked, lips on your forehead as he stroked your back softly. You loved the way he cared so much and was so concerned about you but you still felt a bit silly and unsure as to how to vocalise your feelings.

‘A little bit’

‘You expect me to believe that?’ He whispered and you couldn’t help but giggle. No matter how much you tried to hide anything from Mason it never worked so you did your best to explain what was going on inside your head and he listened along intently. Never making you feel silly or stupid about your feelings no matter how insane you thought you sounded.

It was just a lot and you felt responsible for all of Christmas. That wasn’t because Mason didn’t help, there was only so much he could do with his busy schedule and you knew anytime you did need help he’d be there but you wanted to make sure everyone had a good time. That on top of trying to make Ryleys first Christmas a memorable one was causing everything to crumble around you.

‘Do you remember your first Christmas?’ He asked after you were done ranting. Stroking your jaw gently as he looked at you but as much as you tried to think your mind was blank.

‘No’

‘I don’t remember mine either, pretty sure Ollie doesn’t and Tilly doesn’t remember what happened yesterday half the time’ he joked making you chuckle as you nuzzled into him. You knew he was right, there was no need to be so stressed as Ryley was still so little and wouldn’t remember it anyway but you still wanted to make it a special time for everyone no matter how down you were feeling.

You had to stop talking eventually when Tilly woke up and saw the pair of you having a cuddle without her. To say she wasn’t best pleased was an understatement and you tried to hold in your giggles as she sleepily stomped over to you and demanded to join. Mason was right though, she felt like a human radiator and you could feel yourself overheating but you didnt move. Now Ryley was here it wasn’t often you got time like this with just your baby girl so you held her just as tight as Mason was holding the both of you.

As the weeks flew by, you made it through all of Ryley’s firsts just like you thought you would. Finding the perfect my first Christmas jumper for him, letting him choose his special bauble for the tree by holding two up and getting him the one he reached for. You’d taken him Christmas shopping which was so busy and hectic you’d vowed to do the rest online but you had managed to pick him up his first stocking with a big R embroidered on the front.

Shopping online was pretty easy in the end and you managed to get most things without needing to go to an actual shop. It was a week before Christmas though when you were double checking everyone’s lists and you knew you were missing something.

It wasn’t something Tilly had written down on her list to send to Santa but something she’d asked for when she’d seen him. Telling you later on that day that she’d done that to see if he was actually listening and would bring for her and now you felt like you were about to ruin the idea of Santa for her forever.

It was a singing Olaf toy from Frozen. The new it toy apparently and everywhere you looked it was sold out. All the big toy stores, the little ones too and even the independent ones near you said they would be out until the new year and you cursed yourself for not remembering and getting it sooner. It was just another thing that had fallen to the back of the queue after everything else that had occupied your brain and when you told Mason later that night he told you not to worry and to leave it with him to fix. You weren’t exactly sure what he meant by that but you trusted him and left him to it.

Next on the list of forgotten things was the Christmas food shop, remembering the next night that you should probably get it all in the basket and checked out before it was too late and once Mason was putting all the to kids bed you sat in the kitchen and got to work.

‘You okay in here gorgeous?’ You heard, looking up to see Mason had popped his head around the doorway and you sent him a soft smile. ‘Kids are all in bed’

‘Thanks baby’ you uttered. Rubbing the heels of your hands into your eyes to try and wipe away some of the tiredness you felt but before long you felt Mason's hands on your shoulders as he tried to work out some of the knots that had formed.

‘You alright?’ He whispered. Dropping a kiss to your head as his fingers worked their magic and you had to stop yourself from groaning in pleasure.

‘I’m okay, just doing the Christmas food shop and trying not to forget anything’ you chuckled. Pulling out the chair next to you so he could take a seat as you talked him through everything you’d picked and thankfully you had everything. You had both agreed you’d do it online this year as there wasn’t much time to go to the shops and the thought of trying to get everything with the kids in tow filled you with nightmares. Thankfully they said they had slots available at such short notice and once Mason had gone through everything you only had to add in a few extra bits that he wanted. When you came to check out you though you felt deflated once more and Mason was eyeing you curiosity. ‘I don’t believe it, there’s no good bloody slots available. 4pm on Christmas Eve is the last one’

‘That’s okay baby, it’ll still get here on time’ he reassured you. Kissing your temple softly as he could see you were getting stressed again and with a big huff you paid for your order even with the delayed delivery as you didn’t really have any other options.

‘Sorry I feel so unorganised this year, feels like it’s all going wrong’ you laughed as you shut the laptop down. Mason was pulling you into his chest immediately after though and you felt yourself relax in his embrace.

‘Don’t worry, it’s fine. Nothing will go wrong as long as we’re all together, yeah?’ He reassured you and even though you nodded you couldn’t say you were completely agreeing with him right now. ‘Can I help with anything? Maybe I could start on some wrapping?’

‘It’s late Mase, don’t you wanna go to sleep?’

‘Nah, let’s blast some of this out and then we can head up. We’ll feel better when we’ve got a bit done’ he reassured you and you spent the next half an hour wrapping up a big chunk of presents so you made sure to give Mason a big kiss to say thank you as knowing that part was taken care of had lightened your load a little bit.

It was 4pm on the dot on Christmas Eve when the food shop turned up. Not exactly the best time but you left the kids and Nala in the living room with a movie on and some snacks whilst you and Mason got to work bringing it in but Mason got stuck talking to the driver who turned out to be a United fan in the end so you got started putting everything away.

You knew something was wrong as soon as you started unpacking the bags. Some of the stuff was what you’d ordered yet a few things weren’t and when you got to the most important part you could have torn your hair out.

‘Sorry love, thought I’d do my good deed and have a chat with him. You getting on alright?’ he laughed as he walked into the kitchen but you were facing away from him so he couldn’t see how upset you were at first. It only took a small, barely audible sniff from you to grab his attention and within a nanosecond he was crossing the kitchen and gently cupping your jaw to look at you. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

‘It’s all wrong, they’ve swapped a load of stuff out and we haven’t got half the things I need’ you gulped. Tears slowly falling down your cheeks as everything finally got the better of you. This Christmas had been overwhelming to say the least but you’d tried to put on a brave face through it all. This was the straw that broke the camel's back though and as Mason pulled you into his chest you sobbed as quietly as you could.

‘Come on baby, surely it’s not that bad’ he told you lightly. Swaying you from side to side as he kissed your head but in your mind this was a disaster. ‘Sit up here and tell me what’s wrong’ he told you, pulling away so he could pop you up on the island counter and once he was settled in between your legs you began to list everything off.

‘They’ve sent the wrong stuffing mix, that dessert you wanted they’ve swapped for something completely different, all the veg looks weird and they’ve sent us millions of potatoes’

‘That doesn’t sound so bad, I’m not really meant to have too many sweets so maybe it’s a blessing in disguise’

‘We don’t have a turkey’ you pouted. Your eyes welling up again as both looked over to the big plastic wrapped bird sat a few feet away from you on the counter and a questioning look settled over Masons features.

‘What’s that then?’

‘It’s just a really big chicken’ you sobbed. Hands covering your face as you began to cry even harder than before and you knew that you looked completely ridiculous crying over a chicken. Mason pulling you back to his chest and you could feel him trying to hold in the laughs as he rubbed your back.

‘Baby come on, you’re alright’ he whispered but unfortunately his words did nothing to calm you like they normally did and you carried on sobbing until he pulled away and held your jaw so he could wipe your eyes. ‘Hey hey hey, look at me’ he whispered. ‘I couldn’t care if it was a turkey or a flying fucking pig okay? As long as tomorrow I’m sitting round the table with you and the kids, that’s all that matters yeah? Christmas is about being together not what’s on our plates’ he told you with a smile and you knew he thought you were completely ridiculous.

‘I just feel like a rubbish mum’ you sniffed and the look of hurt that flashed across his face made your heart hurt.

‘Please don’t say that he pouted. ‘You’re the best mummy in the world I promise. You’ve worked so hard for all of this for us and you know me and the kids appreciate everything’ he reassured you before a tiny smile tugged at his lips again. ‘You know what? I hate turkey, It’s dry as fuck. As for the kids, I don’t think they’ll even realise okay? You don’t have to get upset about it’

‘Are you sure?’ you sniffed. His words lifting you slightly when he nodded back at you. ‘I knew I should have got one the other day. It’s too late to go and get anything now and they’ll be sold out anyway’

‘Right well let’s sort this all out and make a plan, yeah?’ He smiled. Tapping your thigh before popping a sweet kiss to your lips and you couldn't believe how lucky you were to have him.

It didn’t take that long for you to work everything out. Going through the list of the swaps and whilst it was inconvenient, Mason made you see things would just have to be a little different this year and that it was fine. That maybe some of them could be new traditions for your family and that you still had all the main bits you were just making this year more memorable with a few changes.

‘I’m sorry for getting so upset’ you sighed once everything was away and you had more of a plan for tomorrow. Wrapping your arm around his waist before he pulled you into a cuddle and the warmth of his body relaxed you like nothing else.

‘You’re upset because you care and that’s exactly what I love about you, okay?’ He told you softly. Kissing the top of your head as he stroked up and down your back. ‘Now come on, we can catch the rest of the film before we put the kids to bed’

Even after you told them all they had to to have an early night and that Santa would only come if they were asleep you could tell it wasn’t going to be an easy night for you. The eldest two were excited beyond belief and even though Ryley was so small it was like he could feel the change in the air and was just happy to join in. Crawling around on the floor with Nala so he could follow Ollie who was pretending to run away slowly and all three of them found it hilarious. Tilly in hysterics as she giggled away but little did you know it would be Mason that would make it all worse. Tickling her tummy until she was laughing through her tears and you knew it was about to be a long night.

It was chaos, but you loved your little family so much and it made your heart happy to see how excited everyone was and how the kids were none the wiser to your mixed up emotions this year. There was so much love in this room and you couldn't take your eyes off of Mason as all the kids piled in on him. He was right, just like usual, and as long as you were all together tomorrow then you’d be fine.

You managed to regain a little bit of control when you told them it was time to put snacks out for Santa. Mason telling them they should put a brownie and a hot chocolate out instead as he bet Santa was sick of mince pies and milk but you knew it was just because he didn’t want another one and would prefer something chocolatey. Ollie wouldn’t have it though and told him that he wasn’t risking Santa not stopping by because they’d put the wrong snacks out and you made a deal that you’d eat the mince pie if he drunk the milk and took a bite out of the carrot.

Once you knew they were all asleep you got to work arranging all the gifts in their own little sections before placing some under the tree. You could tell you were both exhausted though so you did what you could before traipsing back upstairs and collapsing into bed. Not bothering to set an alarm as you knew the kids would be waking you up early anyway but to your surprise it was Mason that woke you up before anyone else. His hands lightly massaging your waist as he kissed your neck from behind and you were hoping he might let you have a little bit of well needed stress relief after the last few weeks.

‘Merry Christmas, beautiful’ he whispered into your neck. The sound making your skin tingle as you could tell my the tone of it that he was after the same thing you were craving.

‘Merry Christmas, Mase’

‘If my calculations are correct, we’ve got about 15 minutes before the kids come looking for us’ he whispered lowly and the sound made you shiver.

‘Oh really?’

‘Mhmmm. You gonna let me give you an early gift?’ He whispered and if you weren’t so turned on you would have found it strange how you were so in tune with each other. That didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him a little bit though.

‘I’m not sure, Mase. Have we got time?’ You asked innocently whilst rubbing your behind all over his lap and you knew you were having the desired effect as he gripped your waist tightly.

‘Don’t doubt me’ he whispered, a smile evident in his voice. ‘Just stay there baby, let me take care of you’ he told you but you felt his warmth leave you almost immediately. Hearing him moving around behind you but when you saw his boxers fly over the top of you and drop to the floor you knew what he’d done. Giggling as you felt his body heat return and when his lips touched your neck you moaned quietly.

Even though Mason had gone to the effort of undressing himself, clearly he was too impatient to wait until you were also undressed because you felt his fingers push your shorts down slightly and your underwear to the side shortly after. His fingers dragging up and down you deliciously until he popped them in his mouth and got back to work.

As much as you loved it when he was teasing you like this, you also knew you didn’t have that much time and you wanted to feel him properly so you started to buck your hips back into him a little more in hopes he’d get the message and thankfully he did. Feeling him shuffle a bit after a second or two before gripping himself and guiding his way inside you as carefully as he could.

You felt yourself melt into the sheets as soon as he was inside of you. Feeling him drag in and out of you deliciously as the familiar thickness of him made you shiver once more. No matter how many times you were in this position it felt better than the last but you knew where you were and the possibility that little ears might be able to hear you soon so you covered your mouth and did your best to keep quiet.

‘Don’t be shy baby, I wanna hear you’ Mason murmured in your ear. His voice strained as he lost himself in you and clearly you had to remind him why you couldn’t let loose.

‘’Remember where we are’ you chuckled, feeling him sigh into your neck before he began to pull out but within a flash he’d pulled you onto your back and was pushing inside you again. His lips on yours to silence any moans the pair of you were making and as much as you were in your element you could tell he was holding back a bit now. ‘Masey, please’

‘What is it, baby?’

‘M-more please’ you breathed. Wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close and the little chuckle that fell from his lips excited you.

You werent went quite sure what he was doing, but he moved all of his weight over to one side so he could lean on one arm. His free hand now moving its way up your body until he reached your neck and the slight squeeze made you groan in delight as his hips began to snap back and forth quicker.

‘That’s it, that what you wanted?’ He cooed in your ear. The soft sound of his voice a stark contrast to how he was treating you right now but you couldn’t get enough. You loved it when he was a little rough with you like this and you could feel your thighs tingle in pleasure.

‘Mhmmm’ you moaned, letting him capture your lips once more to silence you.

‘Such a good girl for me’ he breathed into your mouth and before you knew it, it was getting too much for him. Ducking his head into your neck as you threaded your fingers through his hair so you could pull on it slightly just how he liked.

It was the wet kisses he was pressing into your neck that finally tipped you over the edge. Moaning into his shoulder as he quickened his pace but he was finished just after you and the little giggle that left his lips warmed your heart.

You’d barely caught your breath before you heard the footsteps running down the hall and Mason stiffened in your arms. Immediately knowing he was completely bare under the covers and if Tilly was up to her usual then this wouldn’t end well.

‘Fuck, what am I gonna-‘

‘Just lay down it’s fine’ you giggled as Tilly burst into your room. Running straight over and into your arms and you tried to hold in your laughs at how awkward Mason was being but it was hard when Tilly was so excited.

‘Santas been!’

‘Has he?’ You beamed, watching her excitedly roll off the bed so she could run over to Mason behind you but before she could, she managed to pick up Mason's discarded underwear off the floor and pop them on her head like a hat. Clearly too overcome with excitement to even think about what she was doing but Mason was mortified as he watched her run around your room in the black Calvin’s he was previously wearing not too long ago.

‘Tilly baby’ you giggled, jumping up so you could take them off of her head before flinging them back to Mason and he caught them before stuffing them under the covers. ‘How about we go and get Ollie so we can see what Santa left us and daddy can go and wake Ryley up?’ You told her. Taking her hand and walking her out of your room as you shot Mason a look over your shoulder, just in time to watch him blowing you a kiss.

Ollie was already awake which made things easier and you were only waiting for a few minutes for Mason and Ryley to make an appearance. Ryley still sleeping soundly by the looks of things as his little face was nuzzled into Masons neck so they both sat in the arm chair and you all let Ryley wake up a little bit more. Nala coming to join you moments later and she seemed confused as to why you were all up and awake but she sat herself by Mason and watched what was going on intently.

The eldest two were chomping at the bit to get started so you let them go. Helping them pick the right presents for the right person and clearing up slightly after them as they went but you loved watching them get excited with each new gift and the noise had Ryley interested so Mason came to join you with him for a bit so he could get involved.

The kids were most of the way through the presents and you knew Mason hadn’t been able to get the toy Tilly so desperately wanted. She was clearly excited and happy about everything she’d received but you knew she was looking for it and with each present opened her hope was waning.

Mason told you he’d sorted it and you didn’t know if he was hiding it somewhere for an extra special surprise but when you gave him a nervous glance he just winked at you before searching under the tree.

‘Oh wow, Tilly have you seen this?’ Mason asked as he sat back up and when you looked over he was holding a thick white envelope with her name perfectly inscribed on the front. ‘What does that say baby?’

‘Tilly’ she smiled, pointing at herself as it was one of the few words she could read and Mason nodded at her proudly.

‘That's right, it’s for you’ he told her, passing it over. ‘Why don’t you open it and maybe mummy will read it to you?’

You watched her scurry over. Passing you the official looking envelope that you quickly tore into quickly before opening up a typed up letter on some Santa stationery and you sat her on your knee so you could read it together.

‘Oh wow Tilly, a letter from the big man himself?’ Mason smiled and you knew she was beaming back at him. ‘Thats huge’

‘Santa mummy’ she squeaked. Your heart melting at the effort Mason had gone to to keep his little girl happy.

‘I know baby. That’s nice of him isn’t it, and you can wait can’t you?’

‘I can wait’ she nodded, holding her letter like it was the most important thing she’s ever received.

‘Good girl’

‘Ollie look’ she shouted. Jumping down from next to you so she could show him her letter and he seemed impressed by what he was seeing.

Mason was coming over to sit with you soon after with Ryley cradled in his arms and a few unopened gifts for you to open with him. Letting Ryley tear the paper as best as he could after you’d started him off to reveal a few new soft toys and some things to chew on but soon enough Ollie needed help trying to set up a new game he’d been gifted. Mason handed Ryley over so you could cuddle up together and give him his morning feed in peace, knowing you needed a few moments alone with your boy before the chaos of the day took over. Mason also hadn't gotten involved too much this morning as he sat with Ryley and you knew he wanted to spend some time playing with the kids.

‘Merry Christmas little man’ you whispered. Stroking his head gently as he looked up at you and you felt so full of love you wanted to squish him. His little hand stroking Nala next to him and you knew it was a comfort thing to have her close by when he was having a feed. ‘You probably won’t remember any of this but it’s all a little messed up this year. I’ll make sure it’s all fixed for next year though, and you can join in a little bit more, yeah?’ You told him. Hoping he understood what you meant somehow but even if he didn’t you were still excited for what the day held.

One of the big gifts you’d bought Ryley was a walker and whilst the kids were occupied with looking at their gifts, Mason put it together as you made the pair of you a coffee. Popping him in it after it was done so he could get a feel for it and soon enough he was walking around and crashing into everything. Your bright idea now seeming like a nightmare as he tried to run from room to room and bounce off the walls but Mason thought it was hilarious and was following after him to try and record Ryley on his little rampage.

‘Thank you, Mase’ you told him as he came into the kitchen to get his coffee you’d made him but he stopped in his tracks at your words.

‘What for?’ He asked curiously. Placing his hands around your waist as he pulled you to his body and you couldn’t resist reaching up and kissing him softly. This morning had been crazy but it was the first time in a while you hadn’t felt so rubbish about everything and you knew it was him you had to thank for that.

‘For talking me down everytime I’ve wanted to have a hissy fit these last months’ you smiled. ‘And for reminding me that Christmas is about us just being together’

‘I’ll tell you everyday if you need me to, you know that right?’ He whispered, pecking your lips softly once more. ‘I mean it, everything that’s good about our family comes from you and I’d never want you to think what you do for us isn’t good enough when my life with you is more than I could have ever asked for’

‘Masey’ you pouted. Your eyes filling up for a whole different reason and when he softly placed a kiss on your nose you couldn’t help but let them spill over.

‘Hey, no tears on Christmas’ he winked, wiping your cheeks. ‘I mean it though, you’re the best mum and wife and friend I could have ever asked for and we love you so much’

‘I love you too’

‘Are you ready to see what Santa got you now the kids have had their gifts?’ He asked, hoping a change of subject would cheer you up a bit and it worked as you were itching to see what gift he’d pulled out of the bag for you this year.

‘Yes please’ you giggled. Letting him take you hand and walk you back into the chaos that was Christmas morning in the Mount household.

[planetpedri]

Moments 𖦹 Alexia Putellas !

summary. on your second christmas together, alexia can’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of love for you.

word count. 510+

disclaimers. fluff , wlw !!

bea speaks. merry xmas to those who celebrate!! if not, well just happy day! it’s actually xmas eve for me rn but i needed to post..

The snow was light in Barcelona, which you were grateful that there was even any—but the air had a wintery bite. Inside the warmth of your shared home, christmas lights sparkled throughout the room, casting soft glows of many colors over your faces and the walls. You sat beside Alexia, wrapping a few extra presents in a sea of colorful papers and ribbons.

Alexia had been quiet the whole night, her usual playful quips absent. You’d figured she was just tired and it’s not like you didn’t enjoy being in the silence with her, until it reached thirty minuted before midnight, and you could see her eyebrows pulling together the more she thought.

Finally putting the scissors aside, you nudge her knee. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

She glances up at you, her expression tender but distant. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am,” she answers softly.

Smiling at her, although her tone gave you slight pause, you tilt your head to the side questioningly. “Lucky how?”

“For you.” She murmured, her eyes flickering over your face.

“For this. For us.” She picked up a small ornament on the tub beside her, one that had your names written in sloppy glittered letters. It was pink, you’d picked it out last Christmas—a small memento to your first holiday spent together.

“I’d never thought i’d have peace like this in my life. I’d always been so focused on football—too focused. You know? Like I was afraid I’d get too in deep if I let someone in.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you nodded anyways. “And now?” You ask gently.

“Now I can’t imagine my life without you.” She admitted, her voice raw as she gave you a half-lipped smile. “I’m always afraid of losing this—you.”

Moving closer, your heart aching at her words, you take the ornament from her hands and set it aside. “Cariño, you’re not going to lose me,” You say as firmly as possible, cupping her face lightly. “I’m going to be around for every moment, every Christmas, and everything in between. I am not going anywhere.”

The blondes lips quirked into an actual smile then, her eyes glassy as she looked at you. “You have a way with words.”

“I do.” You grin, brushing a thumb over her cheek, “I’m here because I love you, every moment with you.. I cherish, even the quiet nights like tonight.”

Alexia leaned forward, resting her forehead against yours. “Seriously, how do you always know what to say?”

“Because I’m just as lucky as you are?” You quip, Pulling away to smirk at her.

With a small chuckle, Alexia wrapped her fingers around your wrists, tugging you closer to place her lips on yours.

The warmth of her lips spread across you, spreading through your chest like the lights from the tree. Pulling away ever so slightly, you whisper against her lips, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, mi amor.” She murmured right back, now only feeling warm and full of love for you.

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future alexia posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @joaoflms @sakashq @h4vertzz @spidybaby

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Paper Pirates (Conclusion)

MDNI

Shanks x f!reader

Summary: An unconventional member of an unconventional crew, you finally solve your captain's equation.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, piv, swearing, smoking, allusions to power imbalance

A/N: Merry Christmas and happy holidays! - Ya filthy animals. Thanks for all the support! I have another Shanks piece brewing (a genuine one-shot, even!) that will hopefully see the light of day in the coming week. Til then: stay tuned, drink water, kiss someone you like, and survive the holidays!

Shanks is, as ever, a bonfire on a winter night. Blazing bright and beautiful. A human beacon with a smile so bright it made his hair dull by comparison. He should be ridiculous, maybe even an object of pity with his scarred face and missing arm, but he’s confidence given legs – legs in ridiculous printed trousers, even.

He holds court in the bar closest to the docks. He’d swaggered ahead with all your worldly possessions under his arm, chatting up passing locals. You’d followed, drowning in his wake. The storm inside you didn’t touch him.

You followed him here, met up with the crew after picking open you scabs so he could see how deep the infection ran, and now you’re once again ducking under too many waving hands and wondering how the hell these killers and thieves smile so readily. As he guzzles sake and laughs with Lucky Roux, he feels farther away than ever. Memories are easier to hold close. Now you can only calculate the gulf between your understanding and his plans.

The sea between your feelings and his easy charm.

This must be what a cuckoo chick feels when it realizes it has the wrong feathers.

Cheering voices shake the tavern walls, and you sit among the merry-makers, pretending to enjoy yourself. But you know your voice would come out wrong if you joined in. There’s a reason you never fit the atmosphere aboard the Red Force. Even when they were trying to be kind, your comrades must’ve sensed something strange had hatched in their midst. An intruder in the crow’s nest, so to speak.

You sit, stewing in your own self-pity, taking the barest sips from your glass. You can’t afford to be drunk. Not tonight. Not after your conversation with Shanks.

Maybe things have never been easy between you and the Red Hair Pirates, but everything spiraled after you revealed yourself on a tide of rum and fatigue. Drinking is a solitary activity now. No way in hell will you make things worse. You still hope, a little desperately, for an amicable separation.

You spill your drink twice, fetching refills to keep up appearances.

That game ends when Beck joins you. He lands across the table, filling the corner where you settled with the excuse of eating away from flying elbows and table dancing. The stew smelled so appetizing every other time you passed the place, but you’re struggling to do it justice. Doesn’t help that it gets colder with every bite.

Still makes a marvelous diversion from Beckman, though.

Until he opens his big, stupid mouth.

“Hongo seen the wound yet?”

Which wound? The time you shot yourself with your own big, stupid mouth in his company or the bullet you caught during your year or isolation?

“No wound.” You shovel a spoonful in your mouth, buying a moment of peace. “Just a scar. And he’s threatened me with a thorough exam tomorrow.”

“Shame. Earned your first major scar of on your own.”

He makes it sound like your fault somehow, and that grates. Your tolerance is growing thin, and you haven’t spent more than ten minutes in each other’s company tonight.

It isn’t your fault they left you behind. As always.

It wasn’t your fault the Marines fucked up a good thing. As always.

It sure as hell wasn’t your fault that you got shot in one of the most chaotic battles you’d ever seen.

The world turned and you clung on where you could.

You wonder if Beckman even remembers what it’s like to have no one at his back, no ship to rely on.

He taps out a fresh cigarette. “Would’ve been an opportunity to celebrate.”

You laugh as he lights up, almost genuinely. “Like you’ve ever needed one.”

If the crew celebrated every first scar acquired on the sea, they’d never stop drinking. But maybe they do. It would explain some things.

“Hn. It will be good to have you back on the ship. Never enough good crew.”

“Oh please, we both know I’m average at best.”

“Do we?” Beckman didn’t take his eyes off his match. “Captain talk to you about his plan yet?”

Your spoon circles the bowl’s rim. The vibration shakes into your fingers as metal drags over rough crockery, but the men are too loud for you to hear the chime.

“We talked about a plan. Wasn’t really his.”

One more bite. Just to soak up the drip of booze you’ve choked down. Nothing’s ever as good as you hope these days, and you’re starting to wonder if it’s your own fault.

You push the meal away, hoping no one asks why there’s so much left. The folks behind the counter work hard, and you’d hate to insult a family recipe.

Beckman shakes out his match, and his cool eyes fix on you. For all the bodies in the room, his attention carves out a private space. You might as well be back on deck, drinking in the dark after they party’s over.

You lean back. Cross your arms.

“I do sometimes look up from the books, you know.”

If the Captain agrees to your plan, it will impact Benn’s role most. And you’re comfortable with him. He doesn’t ask for much. So long as you meet his expectations, he doesn’t demand a sunny smile and a performance. You’re grumpy bastards both, the eyes in the back, assessing and measuring. You don’t know what answers he’s looking for at your table in the corner, but you can guess a few questions.

“Shanks only brings aboard people who’ve already… become what they’re gonna be, I guess.” Just saying his name pushes your gaze to find him across the room.

It’s no wonder you fell in love. Doesn’t make you any less of a fool. “It’s why he doesn’t take on apprentices, I think. He knows he’d protect them. They’d get hurt. They’d have to, at some point, or they’d never push themselves. So, he always turns the young ones down.”

Benn doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t twitch. He blinks, slowly, like a cat, and a ribbon of smoke fades into the rafters. You look him in the eye.

“That’s how I know. I am what I am. Good at numbers. Entirely average in every other respect.”

“Tsk.” He looks away. Uses his boot to grind out an old cigarette that’s been cold on the floor since before you arrived. “You see the numbers, but you’ve put ‘em in the wrong places. A transcription error. Get out of your own way.”

Your arms cinch tighter around your chest, and the eye contact slips up and away. The rafters offer an escape. You study graffiti carved by a thousand daggers over endless decades by happy drunkards. Maybe they’re a map to sanity. A star chart of curses, confessions, and promises.

Are you even having the same conversation? It feels like everyone is pushing you to the brink of madness.

Nothing adds up anymore.

“You’re smart,” Beckman says. “And you’re strong.”

He kicks you under the table to reclaim your attention from the ceiling, and you jump, yelping. You regard him with a hint of shock. It’s minor violence, yeah, but it’s friendly violence. It’s a new level of engagement. The routine mandates sitting and snarking over more booze than you want to drink. Beckman isn’t the touchy sort.

The cigarette dips as he grins.

“Let yourself believe in something, girl.”

“I – I don’t – what?” Your tongue is too big for your mouth, and your teeth keep getting in the way.

Beckman glances away, and you follow his line of sight through the shouting, and the drinking, and the rowdy delight to your captain.

Shanks.

He’s in the middle of a story, slapping the bar for emphasis. Part of you wishes you could sneak closer. Hear his tall tales and measure them against his usual bullshit. Bask in his presence. But your overwhelming common sense tells you it would burn to sit beside him. Bonfires can catch.

Seas. He really is beautiful.

You remember who you are sitting beside.

The first mate chuckles, and your face burns.

Flailing to your seat, less graceful than most of the drunks, you cough up an excuse.

“I’m going for some air.”

Cigarette smoke chases you out the door, and you march away from the windows, turning the corner into an alley where you can breathe.

Fuck’s sake.

You press cold palms to your cheeks, horrified by the heat. Did your feelings show? Beckman clearly spied something to amuse himself with in your expression. Who else? How many witnesses to your shame would cackle at your expense in the morning? Maybe they’d just assume you stepped out to throw up. Because you had good manners, unlike the rest of them.

Not a bad thought, actually. You feel like hurling.

Night has settled over the town, and the locals are giving the pirates their space. Normal people have normal work to do in the morning, and even Shanks can’t chat the stars still. A breeze carries whispers of the sea into your hideaway, and you ache for the clean smell of deep water far from shore.

Your resolve cracks like an egg.

Slumping against the brick wall at your back, you accept your truth. It doesn’t even take half a bottle of rum this time.

You love Shanks. You crave life aboard the Red Force. The captain shared a taste of his world and instead of thanking him for the experience, you’ve gotten addicted. Demanding. It will never be enough. Given the chance, you’d die happy at sea, listening to the ship groan creaking lullabies.

You might die if they agree to your proposal.

If Shanks leaves you forever.

Even though that would be safest. That would be reasonable.

That would be good for the crew. For him.

“There you are.”

Think of the devil.

Shanks, framed in moonlight, invades your sanctuary. “Thought you might be sneaking off.”

You freeze. Your mind goes blank with the fear of being caught and the contrary urge to impress. Something spews out of your mouth, but you have no control over it.

“Just breathing.”

What a fucking stupid answer. Might as well tell him there was no air in the tavern when you noticed how his eyes sparkle when he laughs.

“Well.” He picks a spot on the wall across from you, mimicking your position. “Can’t have you stopping that, can we?”

An obligatory smile. You’ll give him whatever he commands, but there’s no joy here.

Believe in something.

Sure. Just like that. Drop all your defenses as you waited for the executioners’ spears.

Shanks smiles at nothing and glances towards the sky.

“Your thoughts aren’t too far from mine,” he says. “The old system needs adjustments. Can’t have you catching any more bullets with just your skin.” His eyes flick back to you, fixing you in place. You aren’t sure whether it’s your nerves or his haki.

“But we have very different ideas about your future with the crew.” His captain’s voice rings between the broken crates and empty barrels surrounding you. He’s found something he doesn’t like and he’s working out a solution, gearing up to state orders and fix his will on the future.

It’s a challenge. You rise to it.

“And what’s your great idea, then?” If he thinks he’s solved the equation better than you can, let him prove it.

“No more layovers. You stay on the Red Force like every other crewmate. The Den Den Mushi aren’t a bad idea, and I agree we’ll need new eyes and ears on shore, but your place onboard is essential.”

If people keep telling you things like that, you’ll start to believe it. You shake your head, knocking the warm fuzzies away before they rot your perspective like mold.

“I kind of doubt that. No offense.”

His eyebrows rise. “You think I’d have brought you on if I didn’t think you could cut it?”

“I mean,” you gesture broadly at the crew that isn’t there, “anyone can do the numbers with a little time and training.”

“Sorry to ruin your rosy view of the world, but they really can’t.” That captain voice is gone. He’s all smiles again. Teasing almost. Like he knows a secret and is watching you walk into a trap. “Not like you. Mathematics are strategy in your hands, and we need more of that. You have no idea how many times Building Snake complains when you aren’t around, or how often Lucky Roux moans about larder management. Your work touches everything.”

He leans forward, eyes glinting in the distant streetlights, and props his arm against the wall just over your head. Heat radiates from him and that stupid unbuttoned shirt he always wears. Can he feel the warmth curling out in answer from your own skin?

“And I agree with Lucky, by the way,” he croons. “You’re very scary.”

Your breath physically stutters. It’s entirely involuntary, and you bite your tongue, eyes wide as you struggle to read him. He still wants you on the crew. Alright. But what else?

Logic strains under the pressure of his regard.

You force yourself to breathe. Hopefully that will help you think. Unlikely, though, with the way Shank’s scent fills your head. It’s dizzying.

“It would still be a problem.” This isn’t reasoning. This is pleading.

His smile flicks to life, and like the helpless little moth you are, you prepare for it to scorch you.

“I don’t have a problem with it.”

One of his feet slides forward, not quite invading your space, but close. His toes linger in the gap between your feet, suggesting a path of navigation you know will take you past whirlpools and monsters.

He doesn’t get it. A quick pity fuck won’t fix this.

“It’s easy to ignore feelings you don’t have, Captain, but it would be a problem for me.” There’s nowhere to look but his eyes or his pecs, so you swallow your jagged anxiety and focus on his face. A strong twitch would bring you together, you’re that close. He deserves a punch. But that might just be an excuse to touch him. And you’d rather do that softly. Fuck.

“If we’re going to talk about it, then let’s get to the point.” There isn’t much space to draw yourself up, but you try, and you don’t miss the way his lips twitch. You want it to make you angry, but the rage just won’t kindle. “I caught feelings. That’s my fault, and you’ve been more than gracious about it, but I meant what I said, and if the best thing for the crew – for you – is to peel off, that’s what I’m going to do.”

That’s it. You’ve said your piece. Now he can make his move as captain. Chide you. Dismiss you. Laugh. Your eyes shut, and you brace for words you don’t want to hear. If he’d just cooperated with your plan and let you distance yourself, maybe you could’ve –

Hair whispers over your face, and Shanks’ temple presses to yours.

Your eyes pop open. He’s right there. Right here. He wasn’t supposed to come closer.

He chuffs, and his breath rolls down your collar.

“So stupid.”

He kisses your forehead as you stand dumb and amazed.

The…fuck?

What?

His little chortle cracks into a hearty laugh, but it isn’t mockery or a mere diversion from your shame. He laughs all the time, for all kinds of reasons. But this one’s real. His shoulders shake with it.

“So smart. But so stupid.”

There must be a proper response to this. But it feels like your first meeting all over again. Your decisions have been upended, and it’s all his fault.

But it’s a good thing. Isn’t it? Wasn’t it even back then, when he arguably ruined your life and turned you into a pirate?

It isn’t bad.

But it can’t be real.

Even though he’s filling your senses, and you’d never dare hope for something like this, let alone imagine it.

But –

Cigarette smoke wafts down the alley with Beckman’s shadow as he turns the corner. “You both are. Makes you well suited.”

The glowing tip of his cigarette is shockingly grounding. The bright red is familiar. It isn’t the romantic, pale moonlight or the dim yellow streetlights that cast everything in chiaroscuro. That’s really Beckman. This is really happening.

Your soul and mind slam back into your body with the violence of a shipwreck. Your defenses splinter, and it feels like your whole chest cracks open to put your heart on display, leave it pulsing and naked for a careless pirate’s strike.

Oh, holy shit.

You have absolutely no idea what your expression is doing at the moment, but Shanks leans even further in, letting his cloak block you from his first mate’s view. His lips hover by your ear.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Do you trust me?”

Trust. Beyond his role as captain. Shanks the man. Shanks the man who said he doesn’t have a problem with your feelings. Shanks the man who doesn’t have a problem with your feelings and dropped a kiss on your head while crowding you against the wall in a dark alley.

Simple answer, really.

“I guess I do.”

He pulls back and grins like a gods damned shark.

“All I needed to hear.”

For the second time that night, he rips the ground from under your feet and flips your world on its head.

Fairly literally, this time.

Between one fluttering heartbeat and the next, he’s ducked, thrown you over his right shoulder and launched out of the alley. Straight into the air. Wind rips tears from your eyes, and your hair stings where it lashes against your skin.

Backman and the tavern shrink below, and gravity yanks on your stomach.

“Shanks!”

His laughter rumbles through his shoulder into your belly. He must’ve been expecting to sacrifice an eardrum to your shriek, and whatever he’s getting from this must be worth it. To him at least.

You’ve only seen him sky walk once or twice, one of many abilities he stores under good humor in case of bad weather. Since the Red Force practically demands fair weather by its very presence, you haven’t seen him break out the weatherproofing often.

Nails sinking into his cloak, your mind blanks on adrenaline. There are no equations in freefall.

Just as you begin to lose altitude, he steps again, and you howl, trying to sink into the man’s flesh. You’re like a cat frantically trying to cling to a human raft.

He touches down on the deck of his command ship, and you can’t unlock your knuckles from where they’ve knotted into his clothes. Just as well, because he doesn’t take his arm from around your knees. A few steps bring him to the captain’s quarters. A kick opens the door. A second kick closes it. And then – finally – he helps you slide down from his shoulder.

Your legs are boneless. You refuse to let go. Your dignity hangs by the thread count of his clothing.

“I thought you trusted me?”

Looking up, you meet his shit-eating grin, and you pant in lingering terror and growing rage. “Fuck you, Shanks.”

He’s practically glowing, he’s so happy. Cackling in glee, he falls back into a wide chair, pulling you to sit across his lap, your back supported by his remaining arm.

Shaking the hair from his eyes, he beams at you. Like you’re finally in on the joke.

“I think I need to keep you closer. Hard to take care of me from so far away, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He isn’t wrong. The distance between you swelled like an ulcer, a terrible little fear you couldn’t help worrying as you scanned the newspapers and bounty posters for an update. For proof he was alright. Safe. Well.

But as the ringing fades from your ears and you take stock of where you’re sitting, you’re afraid to add up the final sum.

“Captain – Shanks.” You catch yourself. His hand rests on your knee, and because you have no idea where to put yours, you clutch one fist to your chest and let the other settle over his wrist.

What is happening? A black and white answer is all you want. You can set a course if you can just find the difference between north and south.

“What is this?”

His nose traces your jaw, and you turn into the contact as eager butterflies cannibalize the anxious moths banging around in your gut.

“What do you think?” He’s lured you close enough, and he steals a kiss. A satin brush of desire that conjures a sigh from his chest. Warm eyes find yours as they blink open, like sunset at sea. “It was never your problem. It’s my fucking problem, too.”

Whether or not he’s lying, there’s only one good response to that.

You know what to do with your hands now.

Taking his jaw, you pull him into another kiss. A proper one that delivers on all the restrained promise of the first. His grip rises to your waist, pulling you into his chest as his lips tattoo his feelings over yours. You’re far from a blank page, but you doubt you’ll ever be able to read old notes under the bold script he prints.

He pulls back to breathe, and he smiles under the little pecks you pepper over his face. Skilled fingers explore everything he can reach, and you know you’ve gotten too close to the bonfire. You’re starting to melt.

“I didn’t mean to leave you for so long,” he murmurs.

When his hand wanders over your chest, firm enough to spark every nerve to life, your head falls back, and he takes advantage. He mouths along your neck, around your ear as he continues.

“At first, I wanted to prove to myself that I could be good, that I wouldn’t take advantage of you. Be a responsible captain.”

He squeezes a breast, and the jolt rushes down your spine, trapping itself between your legs. Red hair twists between your fingers as you desperately explore him in return. He’s too busy talking and tasting to kiss.

“Wanted to give you room to breathe. To come to your senses.”

The wandering hand drifts. Smoothing over your sternum and down your belly, spreading over your trousers’ fastening.  

“But then one thing led to another, and Beck handed me your bounty poster.”

It shouldn’t surprise you that Shanks has a motormouth, even as a lover. His words touch as skillfully as his hand, though, and you’re drunker than you’ve ever been on rum. He doesn’t have to be good. Whatever he wants, he can have. You’ve been a cold pile of kindling for an age. He’s set you blazing to match his heat.  

His touch lingers on the buttons, and you kiss whatever parts of him you can reach. The crown of his head. His temple. You map his shoulders with curious fingertips, pushing under the collar of his loose shirt. He listens to your cues.

The first button pops free.

“I have no doubt you could go out on your own.”

The second button.

He slips his hand under your knee, pulling your leg to straddle him, your back to his chest.

“Make a name for yourself as a pirate. Terrify the world with your numbers and your revolver. But I couldn’t bring myself to be happy for you if you did.”

Back up your thigh, over your hip. He lets you simmer, anticipating his next move. Even as he finally moves under your clothes, he pauses short of the goal, and you whimper. Your head rests against his shoulder, allowing him every piece of you he desires, and he nips your earlobe.

Drunk off him as you are, he wants you to hear every word that comes next.

“I want you to be my pirate.”

Calloused fingertips creep between your folds, and you immediately roll your hips, chasing him the way you’ve wanted to for so long.

He grazes your clit in passing, and your back arches. “I am. I’ve always been yours, you idiot. Please, Shanks!”

Boyish giggles trail over your flesh as he finally touches you, strokes you, finds the proof of your unquenchable infatuation. He hums, beyond happy with himself and the task in hand.

“Poor thing. Have you been aching for me like this all year?”

You gather enough breath to pant, “Longer.”

He croons and licks the first dew of sweat blooming along your throat.

“Poor little pirate.”

Quick circles over your most sensitive spot push you staggering towards the precipice in record time. You’ve never gotten yourself off so fast. No partner has ever managed it, that’s for fucking sure.

But it’s him.

And he’s holding you, and all but purring as you flutter and jerk against him, and you want to…

One finger pushes in, and you buck, crying out. You’re still riding the cliff’s edge, and you aren’t sure if this is better or if you’re going to give him another scar for abandoning your clit. You whine, and the finger pulls back. It returns with a friend at a fresh angle that grinds his palm exactly where it belongs.

“Fuck.”

“Exactly.”

He searches, stretching you as he goes. When he finds what he’s looking for, your eyes all but roll back into your head. The both of you groan as you clench. He shoves you over the border, and you lose yourself. The orgasm rips your mind away, and you float, convinced you’d drift to the ceiling if he wasn’t holding you. Wasn’t still knuckle-deep, drawing out the fall.

By the time you settle back into your own skin, your toes and the tips of your fingers are tingling. He removes his hand and it only makes you want to cry a little.

Until he brings it to his lips. Sucks his fingers clean. Winks as you stare.

“To the bed?” He isn’t even trying to hide how excited he is. You can feel him, long and hard under your thigh, but the roguish glee in his eyes reveals more.

Once you’re in that bed, he won’t be letting you up for the rest of the night.

“Just a minute.” You pet his face, almost slurring as you explain. “I need to catch my breath.”

“Mn. Take your time then.” He nuzzles into your neck, and without the distraction of his fingers curling inside you, it tickles. A lot. His stubbly little beard rubs into your flesh, and you realize he’s doing it on purpose when you flinch and the hand resting over your belly squeezes. He draws his cheek over the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“Hmm? Something wrong?”

“N-no.” Fuck that. You can win this game. Even though you’re already biting your lip to keep the giggles locked in.

His whiskers move down your neck as he aggressively cuddles into the tender skin, hunting for the spot that will break your resolve. He finds it in the gap between shoulder and neck. Laughter tears out of you, and the hand on your belly dances to your side, setting you writhing on Shanks’ lap.

“Alright! Alright!” You go to stand, but his arm keeps you pinned.

“Thought you needed to catch your breath?” He doesn’t move away from your neck as he speaks, using his lips and breath to continue your torment.

“I yield,” you gasp. Tears gather in your eyes as you wriggle, trying to push your way free. “Let me go.”

The tickling fingers smooth flat again, and he stops attacking your neck. Only to place a chaste kiss there. “Never.”

But he does, letting you rise, sliding his grip down to hold your hand. He looks up at you, his heart in his eyes, and everything inside goes still.

It’s like sailing through a Calm Belt after passing through a storm. It’s the same ocean, but everything looks different.

Right.

This is it.

Safely at anchor, the ship barely moves, but there’s always that subtle sway that keeps the light moving. Your sea legs find it a thousand times firmer than shore. A dance that lulls and leaps. Home and heart.

His thumb rolls over your fingers.

Here’s the solution to the equations that never quite fit.

The solution brings your knuckles to his lips for a kiss, holding your gaze until you blink back to yourself.

“Take off some of those layers for me.” He’s all suggestion, in every sense, and nodding, you step back, letting your fingertips slide free of his hold.

You have no idea how to perform a striptease without making yourself ridiculous, so you stay practical. His attention keeps you safe, and you don’t look away as you shed your jacket, pull off your boots, tug away your socks. When your hands drift to your trousers, still unbuttoned from Shanks’ good work, his eyes dip to follow. The fabric falls, and his tongue runs over his lower lip, almost like he’s caught in thought. But his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide when he meets your eyes again, and you doubt there’s anything left in his head besides visions of what he’s about to do to you.

You begin working on your shirt buttons, and he stands. His shirt pulls smoothly over his head, a feat he performs gracefully even with a single arm, and your fingers shake, stumbling in their task as you appreciate the view. Golden skin and a warrior’s build. It isn’t even the first time you’ve seen him shirtless. Damn.

He basks under your appraisal, shaking back his hair and leaning his hips forward so there’s no mistaking his interest as he unbuckles his belt.

It dawns on you, as you struggle with your buttons, eyes lingering over inappropriate places, that it has been a very long time since you got this far. Romantically. With a man who’s clearly well endowed.

Math can be a cruel mistress. Even if physics isn’t your specialty, you understand some things about pegs and holes. Laws of volume and stretch. That sort of thing.

“Stop calculating.” He’s caught you. As usual. And he’s laughing you both past any anxiety. Easy as a strong wind under blue skies. “I can feel those damn numbers stealing your attention from me, and I’m a greedy, greedy pirate. I need it all.”

Your own grin catches, spreads.

A greedy pirate you can trust. Do trust.

Equations be damned. Shanks has always found a way to get what he wants, and you know he wants your pleasure as much as you want his.

He kicks off his sandals as he swaggers up to you and pulls you tight, banishing your calculations and concerns with a kiss. When his tongue begs entrance, you oblige, hurrying to meet him, eager to feel and touch and play in thrilling new ways.

You find the bed together. Or it finds you. Maybe, like Beckman, it has some secret understanding with the captain. A conspiracy to place you somewhere soft and vulnerable. Regardless, you fall back, never leaving your lover’s embrace.

Shanks is more than happy to finish with your shirt, making a show of slipping each loop free with his one hand. Everything else comes off in a rush. The man’s an octopus, groping, squeezing, and surrounding you like he has twice as many limbs as most men.

He has you on your back, bare, one leg hoisted over his shoulder. As he takes his time coating himself in your slick, a moment of clarity breaks through the crush of sensation.

“I really do want to take care of you.”

There’s no pause. He lets your words soak in, rumbling in satisfaction as he slowly breaches your entrance. He falls forward to rest on his forearm, covering you as he rocks in and out, creeping deeper like an incoming tide.

“Oh, you are. You’re taking such good care of me.”

He seals any further complaints away with a kiss, moaning and lapping into your mouth. There’s too much to parse into individual feelings. You’re so full, and he’s so warm. Pleasure thrums through you, and everything tangles into the press of bodies, the unspeakable intimacy of the act.

Some unknown time later, when you sneak a breath and a thought, you gasp, “Not fair.”

Wicked laughter answers, and he pushes deep, grinding up against your clit to chase away any idea of the world beyond how good he feels.

 “I’m your captain. Nothing about this is fair.” He bites your lip and moves faster, gleefully driving you to the brink of insanity once again.

Your body delights in his, and it fights to keep him as resolutely as your mind tried to escape. Every time you flutter and clench around him, his eyelashes flutter over his cheeks. The muscles over his back roll under your grip.

It’s strange and wonderful. A day ago, you expected him to abandon you to your sensible plans. Now, well, it’s a whole new world, isn’t it?

Whispers of his name pick loose strings from his control.

When you crash through your orgasm, burying your scream in his shoulder, he pounds you through it. His mouth moves, full of words he’s beyond articulating, and a groan from the depths of his soul shakes through the both of you as finds his own release.

He falls beside you, hair damp with sweat, meeting your pleasure-numbed eyes with a lazy smile.

“C’mere.”

His arm loops around you, pulls you back to his chest, and the afterglow hums over you like music.

Distant voices remind you of the crew outside Shanks’ quarters.

“I hope you know,” he mumbles, “you don’t have to worry about finding a spare hammock below decks ever again.”

He snuggles into your neck, and you stroke the arm anchoring you.

This dickhead.

How many crewmates saw the captain’s little show? How many put the pieces together after you both disappeared? How many heard you chanting his name?

Gods. You’ll have to find some energy to worry about that tomorrow.

Might be a good reason to get drunk, actually.

[passionwillow]

Kiss And Make Up

Hiii babes. I had an idea for make up sex with Rocker, it's slow at work, so.. Here you go!

Warnings: Smut! 18+, mentions of arguing and yelling.

Rocker never raised his voice at you in the three years you'd been dating. He didn't think it was right to ever yell, but that morning before his shift, you had a screaming match with him.

The cause of the fight was so insignificant that, once he left, you'd almost forgotten what it was even about. You just knew he yelled at you, you yelled at him, and things didn't feel right at all.

You hated that it hadn't been resolved before he left for his shift, it made it worse. Having to go all day without getting to apologize. Texting him wasn't right, you needed to do it face to face.

It bothered the both of you all day. He couldn't concentrate at all when he got to work. He was off his game and sick to his stomach with the things he'd shouted.

When he finally came home, some part of him expected you to be gone. And he wouldn't have blamed you. But the sound of pans being moved in the kitchen settled his hammering heart and he approached quietly, taking in the site of you still at home with him.

You didn't even notice he was home, too caught up in preparing dinner. You jumped when he felt a pair of arms around your waist and the scent of him filled your nose, making you relax.

Neither of you said anything at first. He held you snug to his chest as you cooked, face in your hair before he mumbled. "I'm so sorry, baby."

You placed a hand over his large ones and shook your head, looking back at him over your shoulder. "I am too.. I never should have started yelling at you, and I'm sorry for what-"

He silenced you with a kiss, mouth soft and insistent against yours.

You smiled against his lips and turned in his arms, yours going around his neck as he gently pinned you to the counter with his hips.

His kiss was soft and sweet, hands coming up to hold your cheeks before he pulled back, eyes closed and lips parted as if he needed to get a hold of himself.

You looked up at him and smiled, voice soft as you whispered. "No more fighting.. Deal?" His eyes finally opened and he looked down at you, lips curving into a smile as he nodded.

Dinner was.. Sort of forgotten about. Neither of you were hungry for food, anyway. He turned off the stove top and picked you up, guiding your legs around his waist as he carried you upstairs. His lips never strayed from yours as he moved, finding his way to the bedroom by memory.

He spent the next few hours making you cum so many times your head was spinning and your legs were numb.

Licking and sucking and devouring your pussy until his chin was dripping, fingering you and licking the juices from his fingers. Making love to you so passionately you were practically in tears.

You wanted to taste him, show him how sorry you were, but he wouldn't allow it. He took full responsibility for the fight and was set on making it up to you.

He finally let you go once he was exhausted, having drawn 5 orgasms from you in between relentless teasing. He'd finished at least twice, judging by the mess between your thighs.

It didn't matter how tired he was, he still got up and cleaned you off, kissing any exposed skin he could find as he did so. When he finally laid down beside you and you curled into his side, your muscles relaxed and your heartbeat slowed. His presence was a comfort.

He stayed awake long after you fell asleep, just admiring your features and letting his fingertips ghost over your skin. He felt like the luckiest man alive.

[spotaus]

Hehehehehe

Dream being particularly spiteful in this one moment is SUPER important to me for the sake of showing just how much Killer is enduring to protect Nightmare, but also to show Night a side of Dream he hasn't gotten to see yet. All NIghtmare knows up until this moment is what little Dream has told any given one of his spies (plus Cross who was only there for about a week) and what he knows from childhood. This Dream? This Dream reminds him of when Nim used to get mad at a servant or a guard for slacking or spilling or being sloppy in a fight. This Dream was the one who smacked him in the skull with a bust and told him he hated himafter the coronation. This dream... well, this Dream was actively trying to kill his big brother, someone Nightmare once promised protection to. Someone he cares about. (And he hears whatever twisted narrative Dream attributed to his 'betrayal' at the coronation.) He hears it all, he sees a good chunk of it, and he knows he can't trust his brother not to kill.

And. Yeah, I'm never the best with injuries but I think that the heavy loss of mana AND blood would be something that would keep Killer DOWN down. like, paralyzed style~ And it makes the later bits all that more intense, AND acts as a reassurance for Dream because. well. no one would survive an injury like that even if they did get him to a healer. he could have a slow, agonizing, death instead! That works!

The shift in Dream, too, the moment he sees it's NIght! The pleading hardly even registers aside from, like you said, more reassurance that it really is his sweet brother! He doesn't care a lick about the actual pleading or distress. He'd tug Nightmare forward into his chest and pick him up in a hug (luckily for a beanpole he's strong (bow draw requires a lot of upper bodystrength)) and then start to leave, no matter how much Night is struggling and wriggling and crying! Night is weak and a gangly teen and Dream is a warrior who's been training for years with a VERY motivated knight.

And owieeeee. killer just having to watch as Nightmare is taken so easily. The- THE BROKEN MASK- Dude imagine how pathetic he must feel, laying there, bleeding out, Night's shattered mask discarded on the floor in the wake of Dream's attack? He failed to protect Night, and now even symbolically the world is taunting him by leaving Night's broken mask behind. (Two things Night trusted to protect him, both used and spent and not nearly enough to truly help him in any meaningful way-)

I know!!! I forgor he existed haha! And I'm glad we vibe with the new thought on where to Drop Error in and wth the staff was up to!

I love the idea that Error and Ccino are equally stubborn and czre about each other and the others enough that they just end up going together for the best of all involved- (Error wanting to protect Ccino because he knows he can't fight is SO adorable and fitting- same with Ccino wanting to keep Error out of trouble-) And ofc yeah. Ccino making it to Killer and immediately jumping into action while Error fawns at the situaiton.

Ohhhh having Error there gives this scenes SO many more posibilites too, just like you did with all of ur entire description of this scene idea. It was so so tasty. Error kinda blue-screening over the fact that. Wow. Killer's like *actually* hurt. This isn't Horror landed a punch so Killer got a bruise kinda hurt, this is Someone was aiming to kill kind of hurt. And he feels awful when Ccino asks if he can heal. He can only mutter a 'nothing strong enough'. Because, tbh, he's pretty sure even Geno would have a hard time with this one. This was something he'd heard of. A monster losing so much life-force so quick would only last minutes. He doesn't even notice Ccino trying to get him out of the room because, like you said, he focuses on potential threats returning. Dust's storm is still going strong, and he can basically feel the fight out front. He needs to stay and protect them, even if Killer looks horrible and Ccino can't seem to staunch the flow fast enough-

And then Ccino out of left-field with the prayer!!! Ur right, Night *was* the only god anyone in the country believed in. Ccino of all people dropping a prayer, when he'd denounced the belief that Nim, or Nightmare, or any of them were gods? Strange? Then he gets to witness the the equivalent of an eldritch being awakening and gently stablizing this very clearly dusting guy, before going back to sleep. All at Ccino's ask. And. 1) HOLY SHIT???? He is FREAKING right now. like. excuse him, he needs to go sleep for a century, why did the equivalent of a god (which he's highkey an aethiest) just awaken to heal the funny cat guy? like, he's not complaining, but he can'tquite process it. 2) Ccino's been cool in his book for a WHILE but suddenly he understands what that Rogers guy was on about, why he seems to respect Ccino so much, and why the others do too. Ccino can bring incredible things to fruition, and suddenly Error is even more thrilled to have Ccino as a brother-in-law one day. Y'know. After he confesses to Night and they fall madly in love. according to his plan at least.

He is NEVER mentioning it to anyone aside from Reaper for sure, and hearing that Life knows *something* is comforting, but Error just can't believe he got to witness such an ancient, ancient magic arise to care for that who Ccino cared for. Error also started putting things together and being more aware of the magic surrounding Ccino after that point when things calmed down. Ccino might have had weaker magic personally, but his aura seemed to be rimmed by that ancient presence. Very, very faintly. Like it was watching him. And Error only sees it because he knew it when it cast the spell. No one, not even Geno, would be able to detect it otherwise.

And. Y'know, Killer gasps awake and Ccino goes back to making sure he stays with them, and Error is still frozen just inside the door when the others burst in. Dust is immediately sent away again, Horror is in shock beffore getting over it to try and lend a hand. Error is horrified by Cross' state too, entirely incapacitated and, strikingly, he has very similar (though more concentrated) wounds to Nightmare, though they had obviously been less deadly and more draining.

And omg, the healers are 10000000% sure Killer should be dead right now, but- ur so right- Ccino IS a miracle worker, so they assume if anyone could've done it it'd be Ccino!!!! (Oh and Ccino trying to get Error out of the room so he didn't see Killer dust? Destroyed me, their friendship means the world to me-)

As before, I love everything about the pain=life and peace=death thing with that scene!!!! gnawing on it.... And the Tree just yanking him back like a teacher at the class bell "You're not dismissed until I dismiss you." style haha! But fr, shout-out to the tree looking at its favorite person and going 'alright, alright, I'll use up a hunk of my stored energy to save him because I can FEEL how much he means to you' and driectly channeling the sentiment straight to Killer-

And, I feel I must ask. Do we think Ccino cried here, when Killer woke up again? Or do we think it was only after he was stablizied by the healers and moved (ever so painfully) to bed and Ccino got news that Nightmare really was nowhere to be found? Do you think he had a cry-session at Killer's bedside? not loud, or even particularly teary, but a silent cry for maybe 5-7 minutes before he wiped his eyes, got up, and just tried to keep going? Because I love the potential of Killer seeing Ccino tearing up overtop him, but I like even more the idea of Killer seeing *Ccino* crack. Getting to be the one he shares that grief with. Even if Killer's barely conscious and can't talk, and Ccino says nothing? That he's not leaving Killer alone and discarded after his failure to protect the thing Ccino and himself loved the most? Nightmare? Okay-

Hooo boy, the Knights searching so hard for him. The broken mask in the room near Killer was a bad sign, but when they really couldn't find *anything* on where Night had gone, and with Killer still recovering enough to muster words, they just... had to try and act like everything was normal. Listen to Ccino (they know he's at his breaking point. They're pretty sure he hardly sleeps, because he's either with Killer or out and about making sure affairs are in order in Night's absence) and search for leads. Replay the events of the fight in their heads and regret not stopping Dream sooner.

Bonus????? :D

Okay. Hi. GENIUS. They don't got time to wait for search parties to hope and pray they find that stupid little place they're hiding Nightmare away. They need to find him ASAP. So, Error starts on something that was only a concept before, intended to help track the knights if they split on missions, or track enemies. This time, it'd find Nightmare. That takes a while. Longer than Error wants. Maybe a week. Week and a half? He's pulling his old all-nighters and weaving and intent-filling like there's no tomorrow and... by two weeks Error's barely half-way finished. It won't find Night at this rate, it would barely scratch 2 or three town out at its current size and power scale... And when he tell the others, angry and embarrassed and so so guilty, Dust suggests like you said, super-charging it! And Error runs the math for a deay (he doesn't want to risk destroying their only source of information) before re-inforcing it and letting Dust go ham on it!

And the way they locate it so quick? it's amazing... They're off and away in no-time!

The party is definitely Dust, Horror, Error, and Cross, but Cross had to fight the others to convince them to let him come. He's still all bandaged up and recovering from Dream, and he seems to flinch at the name, but he *knows* he's the only one who can hold Ink back properly. He's the only one, and the others know it too. Cross is very, very confident that Ink wouldn't fight him under fair circumstances, let alone while he's injured and able to talk to him as the others keep Dream and Ink occupied. So, ultimately, he's with them!

Also, addition: I like to think that Dust's storm faded a bit when they found Night's location. As in, Dust knew if he let it rage out of control that everyone would know they were coming, they had to be subtle on approach, not give them any time to prepare, to move, to endanger Night. So he seals himself up the entire ride. It's freaky, but understandable, and the other knights respect it. Horror remembers that this is exactly how Dust acted when he first arrived and his bands were removed. Very quiet, very tense, hidden under his hood more ferociously. He just needs to store it up so he can fry Dream to a fucking crisp. Or, y'know, short-circuit him for a bit.

Another Addition: I really love the idea of the gang getting SUCH easy access into the depths of the camp, and their speed, because of that thing you mentioned on the other post with them getting directions to Nightmare? I think on the road there, they ran into a group traveling *out* of Dream's camp to meet up with a supply run. Eclipse was the lead of this particular scouting party, and told his party to stand-down. He exchanged a brief word with Horror, being up-front in knowing they were there to retrieve Prince Dream's little brother. That the boy was *happier* with them, surely. (Horror clarifies they're indeed only there for their king. They don't intend to harm civilians. Eclipse mentions his family, Horror promises they won't be touched.) And he agrees to guide them in. Send his party on ahead to intercept the real cargo, and he leads in the knights. No one thinks anything of it when they see Eclipse leading the charge, and so they get easy access straight to their targets!

And ohhhh, the way the Knights handle their own battles this time!!! I think Ink was probably why they encountered first, and he made a ruckus that lured Blue and Dream out of the cabin, because Ink was... yelling about Cross? Not good! Ink being so very adamant about not hurting/fighting Cross, and Cross insisting that it was him or no-one. And, I mean, Cross had always been looking out for him from the start, that's what they did, protect each other! And Cross was hurt because of Dream and... well, Dream is his friend too but Dream *did* send Cross away and- Before he can really decide what he's doing, Cross totally yoinks control of his magic and manages to find a way to keep Ink in place beside him.

Dust is the funniest- And most justified- Dude was DONE. Dream only got a look at a horse skidding to a stop before him, a glimpse of Dust's pissed eyelights out of the shadows, and was fucking smited by the Fuck You Lightning bolt that Dust had been saving for him since Nightmare went missing. CRUMPLED. Like a sheet of paper. Instantly. That guy stood NO chance! (What- What if he has a cool lightning-scar after this? Maybe it eventually heals over, but it lingers for longer than usual because the intent behind it was potent. 'You made my family hurt, feel their pain ten times over and don't forget it.' y'know? He's very chill about sitting atop his (very unbothered btw) horse znd staring at Dream, a lil crispy, before standing guard till Horror or Cross could come collect him. (Dust ain't lifting that entire twunk, and his horse can't carry that much weight anyways, Horror's horse was the one pulling the cart-) ALSO!!! Remember how Dust's lightning kinda just his anywhere in a certain radius? He finally learned how to aim exactly! In the moment in seeing Dream again!

Horror... my boy... Love the picture of him rolling off his horse and full-sending it at Blue. Blue is slow to summon his hammer and even slower avoiding Horror's initial punch. (Plus, I imagine this is closer to afternoon, so Blue had already taken off his armor and hadn't thought to throw it on before rushing out beside Dream.) He gets a pretty bad hit right at the start, and when the lightning goes off it disorients him a LOT (I think the Knights are very very used to sudden flashes thanks to Dust's training) and Horror is able to get him down and cuffed. Which doesn't stop his physical strength, but Blue is no match for Horror without that boost from his magic weapon, and when he sees Dream in the family guy death pose, he loses concentration and panics a little (lot) and Horror is able to restrain him further.

Ink over here was talked down by Cross, even after the lightning bolt in the distance, and Ink agreed to wear dampeners willingly and go sit in the cart with Cross.

(At this point, I think everyone in the camp has been SO psyched out by Dream about the danger the knights bring, plus their leader is down, possibly fried and dead, Blue is restrained and looks scared, and Dust is still atop his horse and such a presence now that his storm was released and it had begun to rain a little. No one wants to try and fight the knights, and Eclipse is making a big effort to reassure everyone not to try and fight, or run, just stay sheltered. Anyone who gets close to the main clearing in these moments of Horror walking Blue along and hoisting Dream over his shoulder and loading them both into the cart? Dust gives them a little warning zap. And by that I do mean Fuck You Lightning or bones so close they probably gave someone a sun-burn or burnt fur.)

This is when Error had already rushed past, love the invisible detail, and he rushes towards the cabin, just to see Nightmare tug open the door, bundled in a bright yellow cloak, ad seemingly ready to rush out into the storm- Only, he crashes straight into Error who forgot he was invisible. They tumble over each-other onto the porch steps, and Error drops the spell, and- Yeah, that's his Nightmare, those beautiful eyelights and that worried expression. And he decides to confess while they're tangled up and hugging. And Night is just SO distraught because?? As we've sstablished, who confesses in the middle of a rescue??? So Error, realizing Night is tearing up and obviously also mad about the poorly-timed confession, and who's been through a stressful 2 and a half weeks, kinda half-picks him up like a wet kitten/half-urges him to stand and fast-walk and rushes back to the knights. Dust is still busy restraining himself, and now Cross is busy watching the captives (though with Ink chummy and Dream out, Blue doesn't have much choice but to stay), Horror is totally the one who takes Night into his arms and holds him tight and reassures him.

And when I say this bit made me nuts, it'm not lying, but like- Nightmare immediately breaking down finally upon Horror huggging him, and not seeing Killer but seeing the other three and apologizing so so much, and Horror filling in the blanks and explaining to him that Killer's okay? Mentioning Ccino and that calming Night a little??? Ough.. Peak.

And- and- Ccino night terrors. Oughhhh. Yes 100%, this guy definitely has them, and they are ROUGH. I love it-

Finally, your tags!!! very quickly!!

Ink seeing Dust come down for his shifts just being like, "hey!! Hey can you tell Cross I wanna see him? I'm bored and we haven't played [Insert Game] in forever!" and like. Cross obliges??? And he ignores Dream and Blue when they try to talk with him, and just has a decently good time hanging with Ink all things considered? Everyone is fascinated by their friendship, but they're a special combo of weird <3

Oh Blue... he's so precious, i love him.... (Trying to think if Night would put them in opposite-facing cells, so they can see each other but not reach, or side-by-side cells so they could talk better but not see each other or easily communicate non-verbally. Or. Put Ink's cell between them so they can't scheme anything w/o Ink being loud about it? Idk lol-) But he's such a loyal knight (lover- who said that??)

And Dream. That guy is NOT catching a break!!! Good!!! Dust purposefully lingering more often in front of/around Dream's cell because he wants to cause maximum discomfort. Maybe anytime Dream tries to start making excuses to bring up that stupid 'brain-washing' Dust uses those sparks, which shuts Dream up REAL quick. Dream does NOT get little mercies when Dust is watching.

And Dream's iconic blast to reality through Reaper- Yeah, no one clarified to him Killer being alive, so he totally thinks Killer's dead af, and Reaper doesn't correct him, just lays out the basics and says Dream should do some long. hard. thinking. (And it aligns with what Night had told him at the camp, but, Reaper, neutral party, yadda yadda-) And shout-out to Killer!!! He's coming down to tell Dust to swap out, but the guard's running late so he's watching for a bit, and Dream makes the most strngled little noise ever and immediately brusts into apologies- Killer telling him that straight to his face would be SO lovely. Goodness gravy I love these guys-

Okay I am SO sorry I think this one ended up being super long- just so many good concepts you shot back at me lol! And I am known to tangent away-

Hey! The ask!! Lets see if i can manage to type everything i thought about in the time i got my break!!

So. I got thinking. (This was also a half baked drabble idea but didnt feel like making it a full one so you are getting the idea like this!! >:D)

We spoke about how Killer would be guarding Nightmare in the raid where Dream manages to steal him.

The problem is. If Killer can still move this guy WILL throw himself at Dream to save Nightmare. Meaning that Killer has to be mortally wounded. (Also works with why Nightmare rushes to shield his older brother)

So we got Killer just laying in whatever room Nightmare and him ahd been in. Probably slowly bleeding out.

On one hand. You can have the Knights run in right after. But then what is stopping them from splitting up, one part staying with Killer and one part rushing after Dream? And it has been YEARS since Dream last visited the castle. He may not remember everything quite right.

So... in theory. It should take more time for the Knights to get to Killer. But Killer is mortally wounded.

So. In comes!! Ccino (my beloved).

Ccino had been going towards killer and nightmare after helping the servants and maids evacuate or go to the bunker.

He gets there to see Killer pretty much laying there dying on the ground, Nightmare no where to be seen.

What does he do?

Ccino's crisis management skills activate. He wants to find Nightmare but he has no clue of where Nightmare went and he has no way to fight whoever took him. Killer is in front of him actively dying.

He goes to Kilelr's side.

Killer, the romantic idiot, probably realises he is fucking dying. So maybe he is like. Maybe i can confess? (Add some extra angst and make it that the hit was by either his neck or spine or soul. Making him unable to communicate)

Ccino is trying to keep the wound closed but he has no healing magic. He doenst even have first aid kit on him beyond the bare minimum. What does he do?

Well... he knows there is one being still in the castle. He does a little prayer and asks for help.

For Killer? Killer is slowly falling unconscious. He tried to confess but cant speak. He cant even apologise for failing everyone and losing Nightmare. At least Ccino is here in his last moments. He isnt alone. So he falls asleep.

Maybe some warm light guides him. A familiar voice that was once a friend? He tries to follow only to be stopped. Stopped by something sharp and pulling him down. Back into the darkness. It feels like when he fell into a bush. The way those thorns prick his bones.

Killer at first tries to follow the image of his friend (were they his friend? They saved him right? So why shouldnt he follow them?)

Only to hear so soft. So quietly from the darkness. 'Please dont let him die...'

And that sounds like Ccino... so Killer follows that voice. Goes into the darkness and it feels as if he traveled through a overgrown forest with sticks and stuff all pulling on his limbs.

And he wakes up. His skull in Ccino's lap as Ccino keeps the wound closed and did the best first aid he did. Moments later the Knights rush in to assist.

(Yes. The tree pulled Killer's soul back to the living side while the memories of chara were trying to pull killer into oblivion and get him to die)

Okay that is all. I wanted to get that out of my system.

Okay. Hi. As always, losing my everloving mind over this. Gonna make a Cut so it's easier to scroll hehe-

First off, you are SO right about Killer fighting till he physically can't move. I think that the combat between Dream and Killer is actually decently drawn out, because Dream is kinda in a frenzy (Storm growing outside + just obliterated Cross as far as he knows) and as a mostly long-range attacker it was stupid of him to try and fight Killer alone in a confined space. Killer's fast, and has a lot more to lose if he loses this fight (Nightmare is still hidden but low key stuck, and Dream is very adamant about ending his life) so he gets up close and personal for a while and lands quite a few solid attacks. However, Killer has also heard about Dream. He saw the distress on his little face when Cross admitted who had sent him and why. How Nightmare refused to send an assassination party to end things prematurely. This is Night's brother, so Killer won't kill him. As much as he wants to.

This leaves him at a direct disadvantage, and anytime he backs off to recoup Dream shoots arrows at him. (I also think he took a couple on purpose, because where he'd hidden Nightmare was the trajectory and he couldn't block it fast enough). And then, I like to think that when Killer gets in really close one time, Dream summons his blades, the ones he was still a novice with. But! One of Them peirces Killer's outer ring of his soul, and Dream jabs upwards (kinda using his other hand on the hilt to have more force) and wedges it into Killer's spine just past his ribcage. When Dream does this it his the magical equivalent of a vein, and when he shoves Killer away and off his blade, the other can only stay upright for a few stumbles before he teeters and falls onto his back.

Soul out in the open, covered in wounds (I like to think Dream's arrows peirce and burn), and now bleeding and seemingly paralyzed, Dream pulls out his bow again, ready to shoot Killer straight in his target soul. But, he's still selfish, and he wants to monolgue a bit, curse Killer (who he believes has been controlling his brother for so long) and shoots his hand, then a gash in his neck from a well-placed arrow, until he can see that dusty layer rising on Killer's bones signaling it'll be a slow death.

But, when he finishes cursing out Killer, is ready to fire the final shot? Nightmare had been hiding in a wardrobe, when Killer had stopped talking he'd gotten worried and peeked out against his better judgement. Now, with the scene, he rushes into the crossfire and, like we've discussed, the arrow ricochets off the mask and knocks it off, revealing Night in his teen form.

And it's a quick pleading, a desperate little plea from Nightmare not to kill Killer, or hurt his knights or the people. To just stop. And Dream, after his moment of shock + probing Night's emotions to find this really is him, scoops him up. His intention was to finish Killer off, but the storm outside roars louder and he can feel a strong emotion hurrying his way, so he decides to retreat. Killer should bleed out anyways.

And now finally to your point!!! Ccino is absolutely the best option! The Knights have no idea what's happening inside, and all they can. Do to help is keep Blue and Ink occupied. Cross is down for the count and looking rough, and they just have to trust that Killer got Night out or somewhere safe. Ccino? Ccino finished his part of the job, efficient af, and is rushing to go find Nightmare and Killer. He doesn't know Dream got in, he doesn't know quite where they'd be, but he can kinda sus it out based on carnage and wet steps in the halls where *soneone* got it. If they did, Killer would probably be stalling with Night nearby.

And like u said, he gets there and finds Killer actively dying, and crisis management kicks in! Ough everything about this moment is so perfect... Ccino never learned medicine, and has no healing magic, so he can only make Killer a little more comfortable and put pressure on his wounds to try and stop the bleeding. And he *sees* that soul injury. No matter how well he staunches the blood flow with his apron, that would surely kill him without treatment. And Killer seems to still be conscious, but barely. He's fading. And silent, which is deeply eerie and Wrong.

And good gods. Killer wanting so so bad to confess because, he's gonna die anyways so he wants to get it out, but he Literally can't say anything?? Wauhh!!!!!

And Ccino reaching out to the Veing in the castle... praying, begging for Killer to be saved, because Ccino refuses to leave him alone, and also refuses to lose him. Killer was Night's first knight, the most important person in that kid's world (Ccino doesn't count himself). All the Knights rely on Killer for guidance and support. Ccino needs Killer in his life, this idiot, this criminal, is somehow one of his favorite people in this castle. Please, please, please don't let him go. Keep him here until help arrives. *please*.

And the Castle obliges. Not only is Killer the one who protected Nightmare, the prince who is restoring this land, but Killer is one Ccino values. Ccino is here, stopping his wounds, begging for help to save a life. He hasn't done that before.

And!!! The description from Killer's perspective!!!!! For all intents and purposes, it seems the warm friendly voice (Chara!!!) Should be the one he follows. It's gentle, beckoning towards a soft glow, it's peaceful. And then the tree's method of getting Killer back is to snag him. Darkness, unpleasant contact that stabs and pricks and scratches. It's not nice, it's not subtle, it's dragging him back into pain and agony of his injuries (even if it's not immediate). But Killer doesn't fight because he hears Ccino! Even if he doesn't process that it's him, it unlocks something in his core that makes him decide to take the hard route and push back through that dense forest until he's back to the living realm. Still on death's door, but alive!

Oh I love this visual so dearly, frothing at the mouth about it....

And ofc the aftermath. Dream couldn't find the main entrance, so he snuck out a servant's door and signaled from outside that he was ready to go. The militia (I think the guard was busy holding off militia members from entering the castle walls) retreats first, scattering into town and Rogers demands no pursuit, hold the walls strong. Then Blue and Ink narrowly escape by simply using Ink's magic puddles, appearing somewhere else in the city through a big enough rain puddle. (Though, miles out they're still dodging the occasional lightning strike).

Only after they're too far off do the knight rush back. Horror's got Cross (in critical condition due to a blow to the side of his ribs+spine but ultimately stable) and Dust leads the way to search for Night and Killer, also following the trail Dream had left, and... they find Ccino and Killer. Killer is very very much limp in Ccino's lap, they're basically sitting in a pool of Killer's blood, and Ccino upon spotting them rapidly tells Dust to go find a healer and bring them here. Immediately.

Horror sets Cross nearby and focuses his efforts on trying to help Ccino put pressure on Killer's wounds but he can't do much either.

But, y'know, the healers who have magic for it are able to stabilize him (they are flabbergasted that he's not dead) and Cross is alright too. Dust + Horror go searching for Night. Nowhere to be found.

[wigglebox]

Suptober - Day 14 | Favorite Episode

[rivilu]

Wait. Logistically speaking. Would Elluin even know how to read.

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ it's sticky, toshi... ❞

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : you help ushijima finally realize that he's got a breeding kink

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...cw : u. wakatoshi x fem!reader, dirty talk, messy and wet, teasing, marathon sex, pet names, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy, ushijima can't stop cumming

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : haikyuu save me, save me ushijima wakatoshi, SAVE ME !! anyways hi i spent 150$ on ushijima merch yesterday and i don't regret it, so say hello to my haikyuu phase coming back !!!

ushijima having a breeding kink isn't a surprise to you at all.

what is surprising is how long it takes for him to figure it out.

sure, at first it wasn't clear, but after being with him for so long, you quickly pick up on whenever he'd mutter in your ear as he slid his stupidly big cock inside of you, saying how badly he wished he could cum inside of you instead in the condom.

afterwards, he's so focused on cleaning you up and making sure you felt good and satisfied, you don't get a chance to question him on it. not that you were complaining, ushijima is so cute when he's asking if you need anything and constantly reminds you to get up and go use the bathroom.

it's even cuter when he realizes you can't walk.

"ah. i'm sorry, i didn't realize how hard i went...here, let me help."

eventually, you to suggest things to ushijima, trying to test out the waters with him.

you start by just asking if he’d want to fuck you without the condom, what he thought about cumming inside, even jokingly saying you’d make him a dad one day.

but it seems like that last part was swimming around his head for a while...he can't get the thought of you getting chubby and round with his kid out of your head. and knowing he'd be able to take care of you all the time? that thought alone made him shiver a little.

what can he say, he loves doting on you more than anything.

however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.

"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."

"..."

"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"

he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.

next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.

"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"

you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.

he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.

"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."

it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.

“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.

"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”

with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.

ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.

but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.

ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.

“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.”

“I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.

“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[sinner-as-saint]

here forever

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Run-through: Dating a superhero was no joke. And as noble as Bucky’s job was, it was just as dangerous and unpredictable. Which is why ever since you and Bucky started dating, he’d been training you in his free time. Teaching you how to defend yourself if ever he wasn’t around to protect you, or if ever his enemies came after you. Although you weren’t perfect at combat yet, you were almost certain you could get out of a tricky situation if you ever found yourself in one. But you were soon proven wrong. And your only option was to hope and pray that Bucky finds you in time. 

Themes: smut, fluff, mentions of kidnapping and death, boyfriend!bucky to the rescue, slight angst, hurt/comfort, mean!dom!bucky, aftercare, biker!bucky (except i made him wear a helmet because safety), mild daddy kink (nicknames only)

a/n: short, quick lil fic because I know we’re all hungry

It had been two hours since these strange men had so easily abducted you off the streets. 

It was a regular day, you were leaving yoga class and were on your way to pick up a smoothie. A treat you always got yourself after each workout class. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except Bucky’s incessant messages asking about your location. 

You knew you weren’t supposed to let your guard down, not even on busy streets – one of the first lessons Bucky taught you just weeks after your first date with him. But you couldn’t help looking down and frowning at your phone. Your bag, purse and phone in your hands. Always have your hands free when walking alone, even on busy streets – the second thing he taught you. 

Always be ready. Always be ready. Always be fucking ready. 

But you had messed up that morning. Bucky’s messages were starting to worry you. He had been away since last night, and as usual, never gave you too many details about his job. But all you knew was that before he left, he’d asked you to try and not go out if you could. Your apartment was safe. He had eyes all over that building. Cameras, security guards, it was the safest place you could be. 

‘Where are you? Why aren’t you home?’

Seconds later: 

‘I told you not to go out. It’s not safe right now. Call me.’ 

Then some missed calls which you couldn’t answer because you were in class at the time. Then messages one after the other: 

‘Go straight home.’ 

‘Is your class over?’ 

‘Go home and wait for me. Don’t open the door for anyone else.’ 

‘Baby I’m so serious right now, go home.’ 

And you were midway through typing an answer to reply to him. To tell him not to worry. To tell him that yes your class was over, and everything was okay and you would call him as soon as you got home. 

But you never got the chance to reply to his messages. 

It all happened too fast. One moment you were looking down, all your focus on your phone and boyfriend, and the next, you were being grabbed and shoved into a dark truck. You barely even got a scream out before the doors were shut and a tape sealed your mouth, ropes snaking around your wrists and ankles. 

And just like that, in less than a full minute, you were taken. 

And here you were now. 

In the back of that same truck which had been driving for about two hours, maybe more. Getting further and further away from the city you lived in, and into more and more unknown areas. 

Fuck! You had messed up. 

You should’ve checked your phone while you were still inside the building. You shouldn’t have been texting on the streets. You shouldn’t have let your guard down. Bucky had been saying for weeks that he suspected people had eyes on him, and consequently you because you two spent a lot of time together. 

He was right of course. He always was. You should’ve listened. You should’ve stayed at home, at least until he got back later today. 

A tear slid down your face, like it had been for the past hours. You silently cried, thinking about all the potential circumstances you could end up finding yourself in. You couldn’t even tell who were the men who kidnapped you because they all wore masks and hadn’t said a single word in the past hours. 

They were armed. And the truck seemed bulletproof. And they kept driving. Nothing said about wanting a ransom, nothing about why they had taken you, or whether they were using you as bait to get Bucky’s attention. Surely they were. 

And a few minutes later, when you heard the familiar roar of a familiar bike, you knew they had his full attention. 

Bucky was here. 

But they hadn’t noticed yet. And you didn’t want them to. So you tried to get all their attention on you by wiggling in the backseat, acting like you were trying to get more comfortable. The two armed men right in front of you just glanced at you and your tied limbs and let you be. 

You noticed the guy in the passenger seat didn’t even bother looking at you. The driver looked into the rearview mirror but quickly looked away and ahead. 

They still hadn’t heard the faint, steady roar of Bucky’s bike. 

Perfect. 

By the time Bucky would get close enough to attack, he would catch them by surprise. And it would be too late for them to react and defend themselves. 

So you kept moving, grunting in annoyance extra loudly just to mask the sound of Bucky’s bike as it got closer and closer– 

A loud gunshot exploded near you. For a moment nothing made sense. 

Then you realised the truck was no longer steady, it was tilted on one side. Bucky had shot one or more of the tires. You sighed in relief, while the men in the vehicle panicked. Muffled voices spoke all at once, one of them telling the driver to drive faster. 

Another, one of the men who was armed in front of you, lowered the window and popped his head and gun out, trying to find whoever was around but it was too late. 

You turned your head and managed to catch a glimpse of him through the rear windshield. Amongst the smoke and dirt flying, there he was. Mounted on his mean bike like a fierce general riding his beast into battle. Except this general wasn’t backed by soldiers. He was alone. 

But army or not, he was still Bucky Barnes. All black bike, black helmet, full biker gear, metal arm catching the sunlight. Guns strapped to his body. He looked like Death. 

A sob shook your body as you ducked and hid under the seats as much as you could as Bucky rain down bullets like hellfire upon the vehicle. He knew it was bulletproof, but you were certain he was doing it just to get the men to use their weapons and waste their bullets on him as fast as possible. 

The loud noises made it seem like your brain was vibrating, your heart was racing, and your ears were hurting with how loud the guns and shouts were. But Bucky was here, and all would be well now. 

A few seconds later, the truck began zig-zagging. You assumed it must be because the driver got shot. More shouts and bullets later, the truck came to a sudden stop. Like it collided with something that was strong enough to stop it even at that speed. 

But there was nothing on the empty streets you had been on. Nothing except… Bucky. 

An eerie silence followed. Then footsteps. The men in the truck had all been shot you realised upon smelling the scent of blood and gunpowder. 

You couldn’t get yourself up, not with your limbs still tied but you tried your best. And you were barely up when you heard the sound of metal literally tearing apart. You managed to peek from the back seat and Bucky had torn off one of the doors. The entire door off the side of the truck. 

You couldn’t call for him, but you kicked the back of one of the seats hard enough to get his attention. 

The moment his ocean blue eyes met your teary ones, you couldn’t help but start crying. Hot, burning tears streaming down your face as Bucky almost tore apart the entire truck to get to you. The moment he grabbed you and pulled you out into the open air, it was only his arm around you keeping you up. 

“I’ve got you,” He whispered over and over again, “You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” He repeated continuously as he carefully peeled the tape off your lips and cupped your face in his hands, looking at you intently to look for injuries while he wiped your tears away. “Are you hurt?” He asked, looking more panicked and worried than ever. “Baby, answer me. Did they hurt you? Inject you with anything? Touch you?” 

You shook your head, wanting nothing more than to just be able to take a deep breath, now safe in his arms. Only when you went to wrap your shaky arms around him, he stopped you. Keeping you at arms’ length and away from him. 

That worried, soft look in his eyes turned cold. Even under the afternoon sun, you shivered under his gaze. 

“What the fuck did I tell you before I left, huh?” He snarled. “I told you to stay inside, don’t leave the building. Didn’t I say that?” 

You sniffled, nodding. “I just went to my weekly class, and–,” 

He cut you off, hissing, “And look what happened!” He was almost screaming in your face, “You’re so lucky I got here in time. You’re so fucking lucky I have a tracker in that bag of yours. Otherwise it would’ve taken me days to get to you! Days!” 

You trembled, knowing he was right. Bucky dealt with dangerous people. He knew why he asked you to be cautious. 

Bucky leaned closer to you, looking down at you with no warmth. “These aren’t the villains you read about in your silly, little fucking books.” His voice sounded menacing, freezing. “These are actual, dangerous people. They wouldn’t have waited for you to charm your way out. They would’ve killed you!” He yelled. 

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed. “I was replying to your texts and–,” 

“We had a deal, didn’t we?” He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look at him. “That when I tell you it’s not safe out there, you stay put. You stay inside and wait for me.” He growled. “You could’ve been killed today! And who would have had to live with that, huh? Who would’ve had to live with the disappointment that he couldn’t keep you safe? That he brought you into this shitty life and couldn’t even keep you alive?” He bellowed. “Who would’ve had to look your family in the eyes and tell them he lost you? Me! That’s who!” 

More tears, and a whimper escaped your lips. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. You had never seen this side of him. He let go of your face like it burned to touch you. 

He looked around, at the torn apart truck. At the bodies. The bullets on the ground. He grimaced but didn’t say anything. He reached into the truck and grabbed your things. Your bag and all that you had on you when you were taken. Your phone wasn’t here though, they must’ve thrown it out onto the streets while they took you. 

Bucky said, “We need to get out of here. Come.” 

He didn’t turn around to see if you were following, he knew you would. Once he got on his bike, he handed you his jacket and helmet. You put both on without questioning where you were going. 

Once sat behind him, your arms hesitantly around his torso, he turned to the side and said, “City’s not safe right now. We’ll spend the night at a motel nearby.” 

And that was all he said for the next few hours. 

– 

By the time you two made it to the motel – which was much, much more decent and clean than you had imagined – the sun was already setting. The place was quiet. A few voices conversing here and there, ACs humming as ACs do, cars coming in and out frequently given there was a gas station nearby, and a burger joint on the other side of the street. 

Bucky got you two a room for the night, and didn’t say a word to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to the room. 

It was a decent room. Bed, bedside tables, TV, sofas. The usual. 

You didn’t notice Bucky had packed a bag as well. You hadn’t been paying much attention anyway. He placed his much bigger bag on the bed and pulled out a few things. Some belonging to you, you noticed. Toothbrush, soaps, clean clothes. 

He handed a bunch of things to you and said, “Go shower.” He didn’t even look at you as he spoke. Guess he was still angry at you. 

You didn’t argue. You just took the things and rushed to the bathroom, locking yourself in there for a good half an hour. 

When you stepped out of the shower, feeling clean finally, you noticed Bucky wasn’t in the room. And the weather outside had changed. You could hear the faint thunder approaching. Surely by tonight there would be a storm. 

But where had Bucky gone? 

You put your clothes away in your bag, and with no phone you had no choice but to turn the TV on. You got in bed, a few minutes into watching some random documentary when Bucky walked in with food. 

You gave him a look, wondering if he would talk to you now. But all he said as he placed the bags filled with food on the bed was, “It’s none of your fancy green smoothies and healthy wraps, but it’ll have to do for now. I’m going to shower.” 

Then he disappeared. 

You were still upset, but then hunger took over and you pawed at the bags like a raccoon. You found milkshakes, fries, and burgers. And you ate while you wondered how long Bucky would keep being angry at you. 

You were halfway through your second burger when Bucky walked out of the shower. With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His wet, dark hair pushed back, droplets of water still dripping down his chest and abs. 

You swallowed your food before you choked, then looked away, acting as if the documentary on the TV was much more interesting to look at compared to your half naked boyfriend. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, and you noticed he was carrying a first-aid kit in his hands. 

You shook your head. 

“Nothing? No scratches, nothing?” He asked again. 

You shrugged, “Just a small cut. It’ll heal. Nothing serious.” 

He walked over to your side of the bed, and said, “Show me.” 

You didn’t want to argue so you placed your food aside, lifted your shirt and showed him the minuscule cut on your ribs. “It’s not–,” 

But he cut you off by placing the kit down and looking for some cotton and disinfectant. 

It burned as he cleaned in and put a little bandaid over it. It hurt even more when he didn’t kiss it after like he usually does whenever he tends to your cuts and wounds. 

You didn’t say a word though. And soon, you both finished your food in silence with only the TV and the approaching storm as noise in the background. 

The thunder got louder and louder as you both got into bed. That weird silent treatment continued, and by now you were annoyed as well. You’d admit, it was your fault for being so careless when he’d told you to be cautious. But didn’t he see that you needed him now? 

Couldn’t he see you wanted to be held? And kissed? And comforted? 

You frowned in the dark. The lights from outside came through the blinds and lit the room up a little bit. As did the lightning. You were the only one tossing and turning you noticed, Bucky was asleep it seemed. 

But the thunder, the new bed, the fear and stress from earlier, it was all keeping you from falling asleep. Plus, it was a little embarrassing to admit, but you liked being held while you fell asleep. But Bucky wasn’t even talking to you, and wrapping your own arms around yourself wasn’t working. 

Another hour went by. Now the heavy rain finally came, along with a proper thunder storm. And you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You turned to face Bucky and he had his eyes shut, facing you. Not a single item of clothing on his body, except for a thin sheet covering him from the waist down. You sighed, frowning a little in annoyance still but you couldn’t help but scoot closer to him, seeking his warmth and embrace. 

First you pressed into him, to see if he would stir or wake up. He didn’t. So you got bolder and took his metal arm and placed it around you, waiting again. He didn’t move. So you went to wrap your arms around him, and once you did, you heard his sleepy voice saying, “Oh, what’s this? Now you need me?” 

You froze, trying to see if you could pretend you were asleep already. He didn’t buy it. 

“I know you’re awake.” 

You sighed. “It’s the thunder.” You said, nuzzling his warm neck. 

“And you need daddy to protect you now, little bunny?” He mocked. “But when I try to tell you what to do to keep you safe you never listen.” 

You noticed he kept his arm around you, pulling you more into him even as he chided you. “I’m so sorry, Buck. It won’t happen again.” 

He hummed. “It better not.” 

You were quiet for a second or two, then said, “You were so mean to me earlier.” 

“I have to be.” He said sternly. “You never listen. You don’t take your training seriously, you think you’re ready to fight your way out, baby, but you’re not. All I asked you to do was not to leave that apartment until I got there. But you couldn’t help but be a brat, could you?” 

You squirmed in shame. “I don’t want you to be angry with me.” 

“Well,” He said, sounding sassy as he pulled you closer, “I am pissed. Deal with it.” 

You had had enough. You slipped out of his arms, “Stay here and brood then,” You tried to get out of bed, “I’ll sleep on one of the sofas–” 

Bucky didn’t let you. A loud thunder boomed right above as he pulled you back into bed and climbed on top of you. “Stop being fucking difficult.” He hissed. 

Before you could answer, his mouth was on yours. Beard scratching your face, his long hair tickling the sides of your face. 

His kiss was rough and it hurt in the best way. Bucky pulled away for a brief moment, squeezed your cheeks so you couldn’t close your mouth. “Brat.” Glaring down at you, he spat in your mouth before kissing you again. 

Your brain felt like it was floating. His kiss was hot. And messy. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “Needy little brat. Can’t ever do as you’re told, can you? You almost got fucking killed today, but you don’t care about that. Do you? Huh?” 

You were quiet. Your brain was too foggy with lust to function. 

“Why are you quiet? No bratty words for daddy?” He asked, sliding his rough hands up and down your parted thighs. You spread them even more the moment he touched you and he smirked when he noticed it. “Go on, tell me to stop. Tell me to let you go.” He taunted, knowing full well you would never do that. 

All you did was whimper as he touched you mindlessly, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, spreading your wetness around. 

“You’re gonna listen from now on.” He stated. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll lock you in that apartment if I have to. But from now on, if I tell you it’s not safe out there, you do not leave that house. You hear me, princess?” 

Silence. Which earned you a slap on the thigh. You yelped in pain before glaring at him. “Fine,” You said, “Yes, I hear you. I’ll be good.” You whined. 

“Of course you will,” He said, his metal hand pinned you down on the bed by wrapping around your neck to keep you in place, while his other hand wrapped around his cock. Pumping it once, twice while holding your stare. “‘Cause I’ll have you over my knee and spank that little butt raw if you don’t.” 

You whimpered and squirmed because of how badly you needed him inside you. “I will. I’ll be so good,” You begged, “Buck, please.” 

Bucky wasted no time sliding inside of you. Giving you no time to even think, he moved in and out of you in a way that had you moaning out loud, not caring that the walls might be thin. 

The storm got louder somehow, thunder rumbling and lightning lighting up the room every now and then. The rain got heavier, silencing the rest of the world as Bucky fucked you. His body weight pressing down onto you in a way that made you never want to be anywhere else. 

It didn’t matter that you were in a small motel room, so far away from home. It didn’t matter that danger could still be lurking around. Nothing mattered, not when he held your stare as he fucked you hard and fast, barely giving you time to breathe right. 

He leaned in again, whispering against the corner of your open mouth, “Look how you behave the moment you have some cock in you. Is that all my baby wanted? Daddy’s cock? Hmm? Is this why you’ve been pouting for the past few hours?” He chuckled, spreading your thighs even more, “I’ve been mean to you, haven’t I?” He cooed, fucking into you deeper somehow. “I’ve been so mean by telling you just where you messed up and how bad things could’ve gotten if I didn’t reach you in time. I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” He mocked you, scoffing, “Is that why your pussy is strangling my cock, baby? Because daddy’s so mean to you, is he?”

You could feel your face getting hotter as your walls clenched around him over and over again, as he sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you out, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on. 

“Is this what you wanted, little bunny?” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “Is this enough to make you behave from now on, baby?” 

You moaned at how perfect his warm body felt on top of yours, his weight pressing down on you. His stubble tickled your skin as he kissed your face and bit on your lip. Your legs trembled as his thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body grew, familiar, tight and hot.

The storm, the streetlights, and every little bit of light allowed you to see how Bucky looked down at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “I killed for you today.” He whispered, “I saved you, and this is what I get? Attitude? A bratty girl? Not even a thank you,” He scoffed, “Not even a ‘thank you for saving me daddy’, nothing.” The cold cruelty in his voice only made you clench around him harder. 

His hand squeezed your throat again, making you moan even louder. “Dirty little slut. Look at you, all cock drunk.” He scoffed, giving you yet another messy kiss. “Are you gonna be good from now on?” 

“Yes,” You whined, not recognising your voice because of how desperate you sounded. Then again, only he could make you sound this way. You whimpered, unable to say anything else because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. 

Fuck, you needed this. So much. You whined again when his hand let go of your throat, fingers trailing down your squirming body until his metal fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly. 

“Yeah?” He stared deep into your eyes as he spoke. “You’re gonna be my good girl and listen to me?” 

You nodded, tears streaming down your face again. The exhaustion from earlier, the day you had survived. It was all too much. “Please…” You whimpered, squirming and unable to hold back anymore. You needed to come so bad. Your thoughts were a mess. 

“Good girl.” 

And you couldn’t hold back anymore. You came undone all around him. Moaning, your back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him even harder than earlier. 

Bucky kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under him. “That’s it, babygirl. Come for daddy.” 

You could hear the untamed hunger in his deep, growly voice. He groaned until he came undone as well. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, his thrusts slowing down, his cum dripping down your inner thighs. 

—

You vaguely remember his cleaning the two of you. He let you rest for a minute, but then it seemed like he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. So he flipped you around, straddled you and began massaging your worn out body. 

He rubbed his rough hands all over your back, down your hips, and thighs. It was quiet for a while. Just the rain, the thunder, and the sound of Bucky breathing. 

Then you heard his gentle voice. “I can’t lose you. Not you.” He whispered, like he was saying it to himself, “Not you, baby.” 

Your heart throbbed and pinched.  

He leaned down and kissed the back of your neck, your shoulders, down your spine, all while massaging your body. “I don’t like being mean to you.” He kissed his way up again, nuzzling your ear and whispering, “Earlier today,” He spoke softly, “When I watched the tracker show me how fast you were getting further and further away, thinking about how they must’ve grabbed you. How easily, how quickly they took you, I–,” His voice cracked. 

You couldn’t help the tears anymore, “I’m sorry.” You tried to turn over and face him but he gently pushed you back down on the bed. 

“Shh,” He shut you up. “Just let me take care of you.” His hands touched you everywhere. Soft touches soothing the spots he’d grabbed harshly earlier. “You scared me, baby.” He kissed around the cut on your side. “For a moment I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“I’ll be good, I promise.” You sniffled, trying to look at him over your shoulder. “I’ll train harder, I’ll be better. I won’t let my guard down, ever.” 

He leaned in and kissed your lips gently. “You’re perfect.” He stated. “We’ll work on training you better. We’ll be okay. Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you. Always.” 

You gave him a teary smile and sheepishly said, “Thank you for saving me.” 

Bucky laughed softly, nuzzling your neck again, kissing your skin like he couldn’t get enough. “I would burn this entire world down if anyone tries to take you from me again.” 

You laid your head back down on the pillow, laughing softly. Thinking he was joking. 

He wasn’t.

[pseudowho]

Stoic

When Gojo assumes Nanami Kento's lack of PDA for the reader shows a lack of desire for her, a tipsy Kento is quick to correct him.

Warnings: 18+ drabble, Kento goes on a smutty rant

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'A quick drink' after work had soon turned into two, three, four. Shoko took full advantage of the rooftop bar's balcony, smoking and idly chatting; Higuruma and Atsuya gossipped and quipped, snorting into their drinks; Satoru observed Kento and you keenly behind his dark lens; you stood, excusing yourself to the bathroom as Kento gave you a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry," Satoru interrupted loudly when you were gone, his pot boiling over, "I just-- I just don't get it, Nanami." All eyes were on Satoru and Kento now-- Kento, with one thin eyebrow raised in quiet disdain at Satoru, and Satoru, with his elbows planted forward on his knees in challenge.

A few moments of silence. Kento huffed, "Should I be apologising for someth--"

"--you've been together for years," Satoru interrupted, "and I'm just not convinced. She could be-- she could be a coat rack for all the affection you show her, you're supposed to not be able to keep your hands off her--"

"--you want me to grope my fiancée in public, am I correct--"

"--well maybe, anything to show that you love her--"

Kento laughed out loud, deep and humourless, continuing to chuckle into his glass, scoffing to himself; "Love her," he rumbled, swirling his whiskey, amber eyes flickering and carnal in the firelight.

Shoko had turned, smirking, to watch the scene. Atsuya leaned back, scowling, chewing on a toothpick with crossed arms. Hiromi leaned, glimmer-eyed, into the drama, one hand cupping his jaw and the other clasping his wineglass. He picked up the bottle, slowly beginning to pour another glass.

"I don't love her," Kento spat, downing his glass of whiskey in one smooth swallow, hissing and slamming the glass down on the table, "I worship her. I'm obsessed with her."

Satoru was silent, mulish, as Kento continued.

"I would walk through rains of bullets for her," he mused aloud, "I would cut off fingers with blunt knives--"

"Nanami, alright, I'm sorry--"

"Any second I'm not with her," Kento continued, his voice quieter, darker, the group leaning into him, "is a second wasted. I don't know what point there was in the years I spent without her-- probably just there to build me into even a semblance of the man she deserves--"

"--why are we doing this--"

"-- and when I'm not thinking about talking to her, watching her, being near her, holding her, or-- fuck, just having her look at me goes bone-deep...I spend at least eighty-percent of my time thinking about different ways to make her cum--"

Satoru was blushing now, his face in his hands, while the others leaned into Kento's mild breakdown with awe, "--fucking hell Nanami, I didn't mean--"

"I almost died last week, at work," Kento mused, as a laughing Hiromi slid the glass of wine down the table to Kento, which he caught seamlessly, "because I was too busy thinking about how her mouth had felt around my cock the night before, because I was pondering the many applications for my tie, because I was thinking about how incredible she felt underneath me--"

Atsuya and Shoko whispered together, Hiromi now giggling to himself unashamedly; "Oh he's really going for it--" "I know I know, shhh, let him finish--"

"--and I've been sat here with her all evening, resisting the urge to strip her, tie her wrists together and have her ride me until I go fucking blind, all because of social-fucking-propriety, just for some long streak of jizz like you to say I clearly don't love her--"

Satoru had shrunk in on himself now, his soul quietly leaving his body, mortified and put to rights as Kento tsked, swirling his wine before downing that, too. He accepted the bottle Hiromi slid towards him in approval.

"...it really just is rather rude and presumptuous of you, isn't it, Gojo?"

The group sat in stunned silence as you returned, sitting beside Kento and laying a hand on his crossed knees. You felt the bizarre tension; Hiromi unable to conceal a blush as he looked at you, Shoko giving you a knowing smile around her cigarette, Atsuya unable to make eye contact. You smiled uncertainly.

"...what did I miss?"

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Still waters run deep 💀💀💀

[xhyjin]

husband geto! who always carries two hair ties on his wrist one for his own hair and one just in case you need it. it doesn’t matter if you don’t usually tie your hair up; he insists on keeping one there “just in case” because it’s his way of taking care of you. if you ever ask to borrow it, he’ll grin, tie it gently into your hair, and murmur, “told you it’d come in handy.”

husband geto! who wraps you up in his oversized robes when you’re cold, the fabric so big it drags along the floor and picks up dust with every step you take, but he swears you look so much cuter like that than in any regular jacket. sometimes, though, instead of giving you a robe of your own, he’ll just untie the one he’s already wearing and wrap it around the both of you, pulling you against his chest. “warmer this way, isn’t it?” he murmurs, his chin resting gently on top of your head as his arms tighten around you. you grumble at how snug and immobile it makes you feel, but he just smiles softly, completely content to hold you there, sharing his warmth and his space with you.

husband geto! who lets you sit in on his cult meetings even though he insists it’s “no place for someone like you.” he doesn’t mean it harshly—he just doesn’t want you to hear something he isn’t ready to explain yet. still, he brings you along anyway, trusting that his followers will take the hint to speak carefully when you’re around. to them, you’re almost untouchable, a divine figure worthy of devotion simply because you hold his heart. sometimes, when the meeting drags on and grows dull, he’ll catch your eye across the room and give you a subtle wink. the smirk that threatens to tug at his lips only deepens when he sees you look away, flustered. later, as you leave, he’ll tease you softly, “you’re too cute when you get embarrassed, you know that?”

husband geto! who has his followers bring back gifts for you from their travels—anything from small trinkets and rare teas to fine fabrics he knows you’ll love for new kimonos. he’s too proud to admit how often he talks about you, dropping little hints about your interests here and there, and his followers, eager to please, can’t help but return with offerings they hope will make you smile. whenever you question why you receive so many gifts, reminding him that you don’t play a major role in his cult, he’ll simply shrug and say, “because they respect you. you’re important to me, so you’re important to them.”

husband geto! who can only find comfort in you after long days spent exorcising curses and managing his followers. the moment he steps through the door, the outer persona he shows to the world falls away, leaving only the man who craves your warmth. without a word, he pulls you into a quiet embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his breathing speaks louder than anything he could say. for a while, he just holds you, steadying himself in your presence, before he finally pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. his eyes meet yours, soft and vulnerable, as he whispers, “you’re the only peace I have left.”

husband geto! who asks his followers to leave when he wants time alone with you. he can be in the middle of a meeting or just anywhere his followers are present, and he’ll dismiss them. he’ll feel a strong urge—a need—to be with you at that very moment. if he’s ever in a meeting, crowded and the air serious, but the second you walk in with that adorable smile he fell in love with, he’ll be quick to wave his hands and dismiss them. “leave us,” he says with an air of authority before smiling softly and pulling you onto his lap, immediately attacking your face with kisses.

husband geto! who loves seeing you interact with the two little girls he took in. his heart swells whenever he sees you braiding their hair just like how you braid his, helping them with homework, or doing activities that a mother would do with her daughters. it makes him want to have his own kids with you (not that he doesn’t consider them his kids), and the thought of that both scares him and excites him. he doesn’t want to bring something so precious into a world so cruel.

husband geto! who sometimes lets you tie his hair back for meetings or missions. you carefully smooth out any stray strands as he watches you, always either on your tiptoes or standing on a chair to reach his head. sometimes, he’ll hold you up, your legs dangling in the air as he grips you firmly by your waist, a loving gaze and smile on his face as he watches you concentrate on making sure his hair is perfectly tied. your tongue pokes out to the side, and your brows furrow in focus. when you’re done, he’ll say, “perfect. you’re better at this than i am,” before pressing a kiss to your knuckles and wrists.

husband geto! who holds you close at night, whispering his fears when he thinks you’re asleep. he rarely shows weakness during the day, but in the darkness of the night, when your breathing is soft and steady, he finds himself snuggling closer into your warm embrace, admiring you. “i don’t deserve you… but i won’t let anyone take you away from me.” so many times, you have to stop yourself from opening your eyes and hugging him tightly, wanting to tell him that he does deserve you. but you know he’d probably stop once he realizes you’re awake, not asleep.

husband geto! who would destroy entire villages if someone hurt you. his calm demeanor would shatter the second he thought you were in danger, to his followers, he's a leader, but to anyone who threatens you, he becomes something far more terrifying. "if you lay a hand on her," he'd warn coldly, "there won't be enough of you left to bury."

husband geto! who swears he'll leave it all behind someday-for you. there are moments, late at night, when he tells you softly about his dream of a peaceful life with you. no followers, no curses, no battles— just the two of you in a quiet home, free from the weight of the world.

"someday," he promises, brushing your hair back as you rest against him.

"someday, it'll just be us."

and that someday is sooner than he thought it would be.

[starkwlkr]

she’s always a woman | max verstappen

an: this fic is a special birthday fic for my lovely friend anto!! happy birthday love!! hope you enjoy your special day <3 also let’s just pretend that lewis wasn’t battling max for the championship in 2021 instead it’s max and the reader

tw: jos mention and narcissistic mother

Max couldn’t really remember why your friendship ended. He was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you had a bad race and needed some support, etc. He was always there so when you stopped talking to him, he was confused and hurt.

KARTING DAYS

At the time, the boys you raced against hated being beat by a girl. It was humiliating! A girl was faster than them? No way! But when Max Verstappen saw how fast you were, he was amazed. You made it look so easy.

“How many trophies do you have now?” Seven year old Max asked you as you two shared a bag of gummy bears, your favorite snack.

“I haven’t counted. What about you?” You questioned.

“I haven’t counted either.” He replied.

It was a long day of practice and all Max wanted to do was spend time with you and eat gummy bears. He noticed how you only ate certain colors like red, blue, orange and yellow. He asked why only those colors and your response was that those colors were your favorites, all the other colors looked unappetizing.

Spending time with you was something Max loved about karting. Most of the boys you competed with would rather lose than hang out with a girl, but not Max. He liked being around you. And it seemed like you liked having Max around too so it made no sense to Max why you stopped talking to him.

As time went on, Jos Verstappen kept a close eye on you. He certainly didn’t want some girl distracting his son. He kept telling Max how much of a bad influence you were, but of course Max didn’t listen. Why would he? He liked you and you liked him.

Unlike Max, your mother’s words went to your head.

“He’s just like the other boys, sweetheart. When you least expect it, he’s going to leave you heartbroken.” Your mother told you one day after another successful win. She watched the way Max stood next to you on the podium and clapped for you.

“But he’s my friend.” You said lowly.

“What did I say about this sport? You are not here to make friends, they are not your friends and neither is he. He’s competition and if you want to keep winning then you need to keep away from that boy!”

The next time Max saw you, he was the heartbroken one. Every time he kept trying to get your attention, you ignored him and turned the other way.

Did I do something wrong? Maybe I forgot her birthday? No, it was a month ago and we ate chocolate cake together.

All day Max was wondering what he did to make you upset. He had even brought a tiny bag with only red, blue, orange and yellow gummy bears for you. He had spent an hour picking out your favorite gummy bears and now you weren’t talking to him. . .

Little Max Verstappen had his first heartbreak at the hands of his first love.

The next day he figured you would start talking to him, but it was like he didn’t even exist in your world. He was starting to lose hope.

“Good, now you won’t have any distractions.” Jos told him after Max mentioned how you had stopped talking to him.

“But she wasn’t!”

“She was.” Jos confirmed.

Max stayed quiet. He knew it was no use trying to argue with his father.

As you both grew up, Max was beside you at every podium even if you weren’t on speaking terms. He hoped that maybe one day you would speak to him. He also kept a plastic bag in his bag with your favorite gummy bears to share with you in case that day ever came.

2021 SEASON

Max was both nervous and excited for the last few races of the season. Both you and him were battling for the championship. It was like a dream come true for him, both of you in Formula 1 and now you’re both in the championship picture. He wouldn’t have it any other way. To Max, it would’ve been better if you could at least acknowledge him.

It was after the Brazilian Grand Prix when Max wanted to congratulate you on your win, but had to wait until you finished with your interviews. He was eager to talk to you.

The post-race interviews were a whirlwind, but the moment that caught your attention was when a reporter, eager for a headline, asked you about Max Verstappen.

“We've heard that you and Max were childhood friends. What’s the story there? You two seem to be fierce competitors now. Was there any friendship left between you, or is it all business these days?"

Your smile tightened. It was the last thing you wanted to discuss, but you were a professional, and you knew better than to let your personal life spill over into the press room. Your gaze flicked to the corner where Max was conducting his own interviews, but you quickly refocused on the question.

“Max and I... we were friends, sure," you said coolly, your voice steady but your tone sharp, almost as if you were trying to distance yourself from the memory. "But that was a long time ago. I don’t really have time for friendships anymore. Racing’s my focus. It always has been."

“But you were so close back then," the reporter pressed. "Is it hard to battle him for the title, given your history?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain your composure. "Racing's not about who you used to be friends with. It’s about who’s the best right now. And I’m focused on being the best."

“So, no hard feelings?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You didn’t miss a beat. "No time for feelings," you replied, your lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Just results."

After finishing all your interviews, you walked back to your driver’s room. All you wanted was to lay down and take a much needed nap, but the sweet voice of a Dutchman stopped you. It had been years since you heard Max say your name.

Before you could say anything, Max stood up abruptly and walked toward you, his stride purposeful. He reached out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip, pulling you into your room without a word.

“Let go of me, Max," you whispered, but your voice cracked.

“No," he said simply, his tone rough, but his eyes were soft—something in them that you hadn’t seen in years. "I’m not letting you walk away again."

Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes searched yours, that fierce intensity you remembered from your childhood still present, though now mixed with something else—pain, perhaps. The unspoken hurt you both carried for so long hung between you two.

“Max," you began, but he cut you off.

“Why did you stop talking to me?" His voice was quieter now, but the question hung in the air, sharp and urgent. “Everyday i asked myself ‘did I do something wrong? Did I say something that hurt her?’ What is is? Why?”

Your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath, your eyes lowering to the floor. "You were my competition," you muttered. "And my mother… she made it clear. She said you would take everything from me. That I needed to stop talking to you or I’d lose everything." Your chest constricted, and you felt a sudden wave of bitterness rise within you. "She said you were nothing more than a threat to my future, and I had to focus—focus on winning.” It pained you to even remember all the talks your mother had with you about Max.

Max stared at you for a moment, taking in your words. The silence that followed was thick, the air between them charged with everything unspoken. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

“I never wanted to take anything from you." His eyes were filled with a quiet sincerity that made your stomach twist. "I never asked for this. I never asked for us to be enemies."

Your breath hitched as a knot formed in your chest. You stepped back, your hands trembling. "But that’s what she wanted. She wanted me to beat you, to prove I was better. To make sure you didn’t have what I could have." Your voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a flood of emotion you had long kept hidden. "I—"

Your words faltered as you felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall. You tried to hold them back, but the weight of it all—the pressure, the competition, the years of silence—was too much. You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, feeling the dam break inside you.

Max didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his arms enveloping you in an instant. You stiffened at first, surprised by the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn't think. But then, something inside you snapped, and you collapsed into him, your body shaking as the tears finally came.

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back, grounding you in the moment.

"I’m sorry," you whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You kept repeating.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if offering you the comfort and understanding you had been denied for so long. "You didn’t deserve any of that." You clung to him, unable to stop the flood of emotions that had been building for years.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and the sobs turned into shallow breaths. Max didn’t let go. He stayed, a quiet anchor, as if he would hold you for as long as you needed.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were swollen, your makeup smudged, but you felt something lighter—something like relief, like a door you hadn’t realized was closed had finally opened.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” You wiped away the tears.

“I don’t really care about him right now,” Max responded. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You need me right now.”

“Max, I don’t want you to get in trouble. You need to leave.”

“I’m a grown man. He can’t tell me who I can and any talk to.” He said.

“Then . . . I don’t care what my mother says either,” You declared. “You know, she said we couldn’t talk anymore because you were my competition. That I shouldn’t get too close to you. She thought it would make me weak."

“Your mom never understood that... you’re not my competition. You never were. You were my best friend. And I . . . I miss that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Max.”

QATAR

The camera lights flickered on, and the usual hum of the media circus surrounded Max Verstappen as he sat in front of the press. Another victory under his belt, but the atmosphere in the room felt different today—slightly more tense than usual. The 2021 season was in full swing, and the rivalry between Max and his childhood best friend and fellow F1 driver, had become one of the most talked-about stories of the year.

“Max, earlier this week, someone that you knew quite well was quoted saying, ‘No time for feelings, just results,’ when talking about your past friendship. Given the intensity of your current rivalry, how do you feel about that statement?”

He took a breath and leaned forward, his voice steady but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of emotion.

“she’s one of the most focused and driven people I know. I don’t think anyone truly understands what it’s like to be in her head—how much racing means to her. She’s an artist, in every sense of the word, when it comes to driving. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”

A brief silence fell over the room. Max seemed to weigh his next words carefully.

“We’ve both been through a lot over the years, and yeah . . . I get why she said what she did. This sport can make you say things you don’t always mean. It can make you choose things—like cutting ties with people who used to be your family, just so you can win. But trust me, it’s not easy for her. Or for me.”

His voice softened slightly, the edge of competition giving way to something more genuine—something rooted in your shared history.

“She’s not the kind of person to just forget about things or people. I know her better than anyone,” He continued. It was as if he could talk about you all day and never get bored. “As for the championship, yeah, It’s just the way it is. But that doesn’t change the fact that I respect her more than anyone. She’s a hell of a driver, and I know what she’s capable of.”

Max leaned back slightly, the cool exterior of the driver once again overtaking his emotions. He was a fighter. And this season, he wasn’t just fighting for the title.

ABU DHABI

It had been weeks since your last conversation with Max, but occasionally you would sneak glances at each other. Maybe even smile at him, which caused the media to wonder if your friendship had finally been restored.

The paddock was bustling with the usual pre-race energy—team members darting around, engineers checking telemetry, and drivers preparing for what would be a pivotal race. But Max Verstappen was not focused on the usual chaos. He was standing in front of your motorhome, his jaw clenched as he faced a woman who had been an obstacle in his life for far too long: you mother.

All he wanted to do before the race was to wish you good luck but he had one problem that came in the form of your mother.

“This is a pivotal moment for her career, Max. The championship is on the line. She needs to focus.” Your mother spoke.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need you to tell her how to focus. She’s not a child anymore. She’s not your puppet.”

She smirked, her gaze calculating. “Oh, I know exactly how to handle her. You, on the other hand, have always been a distraction. Just like you were when you were kids. I told her back then that you were competition. And look where we are now—competing for the championship.”

Max took a step forward, his voice low but sharp. “You don’t get to control her anymore. She doesn’t deserve the way you treated her. She never did. She’s not some tool for you to use to further your own agenda. She’s a person. A damn good one, too.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug grin. “And now you think you have feelings for her? After all these years? You’re wasting your time, Max.

Max’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of frustration coursing through him. He had always felt something for you—something deep and complicated—but he hadn’t realized how much until he saw you again. How could he not? The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him in a way no one else did. The way your presence grounded him when the world felt chaotic.

“I’m not wasting my time,” Max snapped, his voice rising. He was no longer just angry; there was something more vulnerable beneath his words. “I... I care about her. More than you’ll ever understand. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch you tear her down again.”

Her eyes widened, the smugness on her face faltering for just a moment. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly recovered, her icy demeanor back in place. “You think you can just waltz in and change everything, Max? You think she’s going to forget the way I’ve always looked out for her?”

Max’s pulse was racing now. “You’ve never looked out for her. You’ve held her back. You’ve made her feel like she couldn’t trust herself. Do you know how many times she’s questioned her worth because of you?”

Before your mother could reply, Max spoke again. “If you think for a second that I’m going to back off now, you’re wrong.”

Your mother glared at the Dutchman. “I’ve spent years in Formula 1, fighting for every ounce of respect, and now I’m fighting for her, too. And I’m not letting anyone—least of all you—tell me what I can or can’t feel about her.”

His words hung in the air between them, the weight of them settling in. He turned to leave, but paused at the door of your motorhome, looking back one last time.

“Tell her,” Max said, softer now, “Tell her I’ll be waiting at the finish line. I’ll always be waiting.”

Maybe your mother would pass on the message, maybe not. Either way, Max would still be waiting for you.

The roar of the crowd still echoes in the distance, but it’s muffled, almost surreal, as you stand behind the barriers, your helmet under your arm, heart still racing from the intensity of the race. The buzz of the paddock feels far away, and your body is heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. You finished second—close, but not close enough. Max had done it. He’d won the championship, after all the drama and all the battles that had led them to this final, decisive moment.

You lift your eyes and see him, standing by his car. Max, in his usual composed way, looking like he belongs there, like he's always belonged there, standing among the team and the media, all his focus, all his attention fixed on you. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he spots you, but it’s the way he’s standing, waiting, that hits you. Like he said he would.

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about your mother’s words, about everything that has always been said about Max—his arrogance, his rivalry, the fact that he’s always been competition. But this, here, this feels like something different. He’s not the enemy anymore. At least, not in the way they used to think of each other.

You take a breath, and then, almost instinctively, you walk toward him. As you step closer, you hear the whisper of her mother’s voice in the back of your mind, a warning you’ve heard so many times before. Stay focused. Don’t let him distract you. He’s your competition, not your friend.

But your steps don’t falter. You reach him, and when you do, you look up at him, your gaze soft, not the hardened competitive stare it once was. Max’s grin deepens, though it’s filled with something almost bittersweet.

“I heard you were waiting for me,” You said, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your voice is steady, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in it, something you can’t quite mask.

Max’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it feels like time pauses. He looks at you as if he’s not seeing the driver, the fierce competitor, but the girl he used to know—the one he used to race against in karting, the one who once shared the same dream, the one who still, in some ways, understands him better than anyone else.

“I told you I would,” he replies quietly, his voice low and calm. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Your mind flashes back to the words he said to your mother, the promise he made—I’ll always be waiting.

“You won. Congratulations.”

Max’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a certain warmth in the way he looks at you, a quiet understanding that goes beyond just racing. He takes a step closer, his voice a little softer now. “You’re better than you think. I have a feeling you’ll take it away from me next year.”

You shake your head, but there’s no bitterness in your gesture. “Next year,” you repeat. Your fingers press the edge of your helmet tighter, almost like you’re grounding herself in this moment. But there’s something else too—a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Maybe. But I’m just glad you’re here.”

Max’s smile is genuine now. “I’ll always be here. Waiting for you to finally beat me.”

You laugh—a real laugh this time, one that’s not forced. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day,” you say, your voice a little lighter. “You should go with your team, I’m sure they’re waiting to drown you in champagne.”

Max chuckles, then steps forward. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing in the midst of the chaos, everything else fading into the background. You breathe in, realizing just how much this—this moment—matters more than the championship itself.

“So, Max, you’ve just won the title, but there’s a lot of talk about your competitor. She’s been called ‘too emotional’ in the past by some. What’s your take on how she handled this title fight?”

Max turns towards the reporter, a protective energy surging in him. He absolutely hated doing interviews, all he wanted to do was get back to you. “Well, for one, I think anyone who says she’s ‘too emotional’ is clearly not paying attention. She’s one of the most focused drivers out there. Honestly, anyone who thinks you can compete in this sport at the level we’ve been at, especially in the last few races, without being deeply passionate—well, they don’t understand what it takes.” He glances over at you, who’s trying to hide a smile while also looking frustrated with the question.

While you were a few feet away from him doing your own interview, you could hear Max. You tried hard to listen to the interview questions, but all you wanted to do was listen to what Max had to say.

“isn’t it a bit too much? The way she gets in her own head. She’s been—well, let’s just say, a bit of a perfectionist this season.”

Max shook his head, chuckling at the reporters words. “But, you know, that’s exactly why she’ll be winning a championship someday soon. I have no doubt about it, but I’m excited for the day she takes my championship away.”

Max could hear you burst into laughter at his words. His smile grew ten times bigger. “Seriously, though, she’s one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever known. she’ll steal the show when you least expect it. And maybe she’s a little bit hard to understand at times, but that’s exactly what makes her great.”

The reporter nodded. “Are you saying she’s like, uh, the Billy Joel song?” He asked confused.

Max grinned, clearly amused by the confusion. “She’s always a woman to me. Maybe I’m not the best person to explain it, but you get the idea.”

You chuckled once again as you heard Max. He really had a way with words.

“And one day, I’ll be watching her take the title with the same respect I have for her right now.”

That’s when you decide to step in after finishing your interview. “Maybe, Max. But for now, I think I'll let you have your moment. You’ve earned it.”

“We both did. I owe it all to you.”

[girllblogging777]

𝐴𝐹𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝑇𝑂𝑅𝑀.ೃ࿐

↳ bf!mattheo riddle x fem reader (slight angst ? fluff) requested by @ilovematteoxx ♡

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.2k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : you can’t find your boyfriend after an argument, and the castle is surrounded by dementors

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the argument had started over something small. ridiculously small, actually. you couldn’t even remember the details anymore, but somehow, the two of you had managed to let it escalate and before you knew it, mattheo and you were throwing sharp words like hexes.

your boyfriend, as loving as he was, had a way of getting under your skin sometimes. he was all about teasing smirks and cocky grins that usually made you laugh, but tonight you weren’t laughing. tonight, you were tired and on edge from a long week of classes and when he joked about you taking things too seriously, something inside of you snapped.

“not everyone has the luxury of not giving a damn, mattheo.” you’d answered with your arms crossed. “not everyone has parents who don’t care.”

the moment the words left your lips, you swore you could’ve felt the air shift. it was like time froze, everything suddenly stood still and went way too quiet. mattheo’s expression shifted, the usual soft gaze he saved for you disappearing. you saw how the hurt flickered in his dark eyes, before he quickly covered it with cold indifference.

“forget it,” he said sharply before walking out, turning his heel and disappearing out of the common room before you could even get a word out.

you stood there, frozen, the weight of your words slowly sinking in. merlin, you hadn’t meant it like that. in fact, you hadn’t meant to hurt him at all. but you had and now he was gone, and you didn’t even know where.

you couldn’t focus on anything for the rest of the evening and as wandered around the castle - silently hoping you’d bump into him around the corner - the hallways felt emptier than ever. dinner passed in a blur too. every time someone entered the great hall and sat down at the slytherin table, you quickly looked up, only to realise it wasn’t him.

you spent the rest of the night alone in your dorm, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, trying and failing to get any sleep. your last conversation kept replaying in your head, what if you’d really hurt him this time ? what if he didn’t come back ? sure, mattheo had his walls, but he never stayed mad at you for long… your mind spiralled. outside the window, everything was dark and still. inside your heart, everything was twisted in knots.

and then, just as you were finally drifting off, a loud noise jolted you awake. it wasn’t just you either, you heard frantic footsteps outside your dorm, and voices raising as well. you sat up, heart pounding and confused. it wasn’t long before a frantic knock echoed through the door, and your best friend pansy came in.

“you have to get up, everyone is being taken to the great hall. now !” she said quickly. “what’s happening ?” you asked in a panicky tone as you got out of bed. “dementors,” she muttered, pulling you outside and rushing you to join the many students making their way through the dark halls. “they’ve been spotted outside.”

your heart skipped a beat. dementors.

the crowd of students rushed to the great hall, tension filling the air, already thick with worry and whispers. you scanned the faces around, searching for any signs of mattheo. but he wasn’t there. he wasn’t anywhere.

“pansy,” you breathed, tugging on her sleeve as realisation dawned on you. “i don’t see mattheo. where is he ?”

she shrugged, concern flickering in her eyes “don’t know, i haven’t seen him since this afternoon”

you swallowed hard, your chest tightening. where was he ? the last time you saw him was when he’d left after the argument, angry and hurt. what if he was outside when the dementors had left ? what if… what if the last thing you said to him was the stupid comment about his father ?

your breathing picked up and theo noticed it from across the room, before making his way over. “what’s going on ?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“i can’t find mattheo,” you whispered with a trembling voice. “we had a fight earlier and now he’s probably out there, and-“

theo exchanged a knowing look with pansy before cutting you off by gently pulling you into a reassuring side hug “he’s fine, amore. probably just running late, you know him, always slipping off to do merlin knows what.”

but you weren’t reassured. not when the castle was in lockdown. it when dementors were around. not when mattheo was nowhere to be seen, and the last thing he heard from you was something you didn’t mean.

“i didn’t mean it,” you whispered with regret. pansy rubbed your back to comfort you but it didn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes as you reached the great hall. the place was crowded with panicked students and teachers, but you still felt terribly alone in your world of fear.

“i shouldn’t have said it,” you choked out, wiping your eyes and ignoring the people running around and bumping into you. “i shouldn’t have-“

before you could finish, a heavy sound echoed through the hall. the giant wooden doors swung open with a gust of cold air, and every head turned toward the entrance.

mattheo stood in the doorway, along with some others students you didn’t even glance at. his curly hair was damp with the rain, and his robes slightly disheveled. he looked like he’d been through a storm, but he was there.

without thinking, you ran. you pushed through the crowd, not caring who you bumped into, your heart racing as you closed the distance between you. by the time you reached him, a tear had managed to roll down your cheek, but you didn’t care. you threw yourself into his arms, your hands fisting his robes as you breathed him in.

“mattheo,” you gasped, holding onto him like he might disappear. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean it, i swear i didn’t mean it.”

his arms came around you immediately, pulling you close, his chin resting on top of your head. “hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “it’s okay, love. i’m not mad.”

you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your slightly red eyes searching his face. “you’re not?”

he shook his head, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “no. i just… needed some time. but i’m not mad. i promise.”

you bit your lip, trying to stop the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you again. “i thought—i thought something happened to you. i was so scared.”

mattheo’s gaze softened, and he wiped the tears away with his thumb. “i’m sorry i scared you. i shouldn’t have just left like that.”

you shook your head quickly, you knew your boyfriend’s habit of walking out during arguments was just to help manage his anger. it was something he’d started doing when he realised you were the only good thing in his life, and he didn’t want to take his negative feelings out on you.

“no, it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have said what i did.” he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “it’s okay,” he whispered. “i’m here. i’m not walking away this time.”

for the first time that night, you felt the tightness in your chest ease. the panic, the fear, it all melted away in his arms, replaced by the steady, grounding warmth of his presence. “nice pajamas by the way,” he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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[darknight3904]

buy me presents, baby!

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The holiday season is packed enough as it is. On top of it all, Joel has a cute little girlfriend he just can't seem to resist spoiling...

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Smut Unprotected p in v, literally one spank, riding, missionary, Joel's a bit of a tease, pregnancy mention (no ones actually pregnant, don't worry) No outbreak au, modern au, viagra mention, unspecified age gap (mid/early-20s reader in mind), Rich older bf Joel!! I don't know how Hinge works sorry.

Word Count: 2.7k

Based on the song buy me presents by Sabrina Carpenter

Masterlist

The local mall was a buzz with what you swore was the entire state of Texas. Everywhere you turned, someone was brushing by you, mumbling an excuse me or just grunting an apology.

"Maybe we should just go home...There's so many people here." You say as you stand off to the side.

"Oh c'mon we drove all the way here, don't you wanna take a peek at some things, darlin'?"

Joel's warm southern tone sent a tingle of warmth down your spine. He was always so charming, that's how he won you over in the first place, his charm.

You'd stumbled across his Hinge profile six months ago. Your friend, Jess had jokingly set your profile to look for men over ten years older than you.

"Trust me, Dilfs are a whole different ballpark, girl!"

You hadn't believed her, after all, who would want some old half-bald, blue pill-taking man sitting across from them at dinner?

Things of course changed late one Wednesday night when Joel, 40 popped up on your screen. Not only did he have all his hair (and teeth!) but damn it he was so hot.

For lack of a better word, Joel was the perfect gentleman. He'd picked you up for your first date right at 7, opened all the doors for you, and even pulled your chair out for you to sit at the restaurant. Conversation had flowed so easily with him, that you'd almost forgotten you had just met the man across from you.

Fast forward a few months and here you were walking the mall with the head and Co-owner of Miller Construction Co. Joel's big hand cradled yours as he opened the door to Sephora.

"Said you needed some more of that lip balm you like right? Let's get it now."

You nodded and let him pull you into the store. He always did this, pulled you into stores so you could look at things. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't always buying half the things you picked up to admire. Hell, one time you were at Macy's with him and made a joke about the adult Spiderman onesie that was being sold, two days later it was sitting in your lap in just your size.

Jess had told you to enjoy it, to let him buy you everything your little heart desired but you couldn't help but feel guilty. You already spent most of your time sleeping at Joel's place, showering there, and eating his food. What were you even working for if you couldn't buy a measly lip balm for yourself?!

You pulled the one you wanted from the shelf. You'd run out a few days ago and your lips had begun to crack without it. Your eyes fell down to look at the price that was beside the scent

Twenty-four bucks?! That was nearly two hours of working at the shitty secretary job you had down at the local library! Whoever was setting prices at this company needed a serious reality check.

Joel's back was turned as he was staring at an array of brushes, mumbling that no one needed that many things for their face. Perfect! You could sneakily set this back on the display and-

"What're you doin'? Isn't that the one?"

Shit.

"Well yeah, but..."

"Then put it in the basket."

Joel's outstretched arm came up to present the little black and white basket he'd taken from a worker when the two of you entered.

"I just think that twenty-four bucks is too much for a little tube of lip balm. I think I'll just switch back to Carmex or Burts Bee's."

"Darlin' I'll buy it." Joel gave you a warm smile, "Let me spoil you."

"No way! You just bought me dinner!" You shake your head, thinking of your leftovers that sat in the backseat of his car.

"And now I wanna buy you a lip balm," Joel says taking it from your hands to put in the basket.

"Nope. We're not getting it." You say, pulling it from his hands and tossing it back on the shelf, "Let's leave."

Joel protests but lets you pull him from the store and back to the car.

Three days later...

Joel never liked shopping. He'd always been the kind of guy who bought the same shirt in multiple colors just because it made sense in his mind. Even when the company had taken off and he and Tommy were living comfortably instead of paycheck to paycheck, he hadn't really found an excuse to indulge and spend a lot of his hard-earned cash. Sure, he'd dropped a lot on a new car after his poor pickup truck had gotten rear-ended two years ago, damn teen drivers. Then, there was the new roof that his house needed last summer. But, both of those were easily paid off and Joel often found himself with a bank account higher than necessary.

It never bothered him, after all, it just meant retirement would come quicker, and if he ever had kids they'd have a lot of inheritance. Yes, Joel was happy living his simple lifestyle. Of course, that was until he met you...

You were just perfect in Joel's eyes. From the moment he saw you on that dating app Tommy had stuck on his phone, he'd known you were the one for him. Initially, he'd felt weird when he'd swiped on you, after all, you were so young compared to him. His fears though, they'd vanished the moment you started laughing at his lame jokes, adding your own even worse ones to the conversation. Yes, you were just perfect for him.

Now, it was December, the holiday season was in full swing and Joel found himself itching to spend some of that cash that'd been sitting in the bank for ages. He'd spent the last six months trying to keep the spending to a minimum, you always scolded him despite enjoying all of his gifts and he'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable. But after today when you'd put that little lip balm back on the shelf, he'd felt sad for you. Joel hadn't missed your small frown when it clattered back onto the display next to the others. You wanted that lip balm and, you were going to get that lip balm.

It was as if he was a man possessed. Three hours had passed since he'd walked into this mall and his arms were begging to feel a bit sore. Sure, he'd bought you the lip balm but before he knew it, he was wandering into all the other stores, looking for things that'd make you smile and cover his face in kisses. As he loaded the bags into the trunk a bit of worry crossed his mind. Had he gone overboard?

No, there definitely could be more...

December 25th, Christmas Morning at Joel Miller's

The warm scent of coffee had your eyes slowly pulling open. You groaned and pulled yourself out of bed, fumbling to pull Joel's shirt on before finding your discarded panties from last night. Whoever told you that older men needed Viagra to get it up clearly hadn't met Joel.

You padded down the steps to see Joel hunched over the stove, flipping pancakes while his beloved coffee maker brewed.

"Morning." You chirp, wrapping your arms around him, and resting your hands on his soft belly.

"Good morning." Joel's deep voice filled your ears

You greedily let your hands slip under the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Joel lets out a hum and scoots away from you.

"Keep that up and we won't be eating or opening gifts til noon."

You roll your eyes and go to pour him his coffee.

After a delicious breakfast, Joel pulled you into the living room where your jaw nearly met the floor. Last night when you'd passed out in bed after the third round, there had been six presents under the tree, three from him and three from you. Now there had to be over triple that.

"What did you do?" You ask, spinning around to face Joel.

"What? I'm not allowed to spoil you?" Joel asks, a boyish grin on his face.

"It's like you bought the whole damn store and put it in your living room." You point out

"Not the whole store, just some of it." Joel laughs

Nearly an hour later, you were sitting in a pile of wrapping paper and bows.

"Alright, last one," Joel says, pulling a small gift bag with a snowman on it out.

You sigh in fake exhaustion, "Hand it over, cowboy."

Joel snorts and hands you the bag which a moment later you find has the lip balm you'd put back the other day.

"Went back and bought it for ya. Got a little distracted though..." Joel smiles

"Oh, only a little? Is that why there's lingerie and a new pair of boots sitting in boxes next to me?" You laugh, "Not to mention you even bought me a new frying pan."

"Yeah, just a little sidetracked s' all," Joel says, looking at the many different things he'd found for you.

"Thank you, Joel." You smile earnestly, "It's your turn now."

"Why don't ya model this for me, darlin'?" Joel asks, pushing the red babydoll dress towards you

"But what about your presents?" You pout, "I put a lot of thought into the one with the green paper."

"Give me a fashion show, it can be part of the gift." Joel coerces.

"Ugh, you're lucky you're hot, Joel." You huff, scooping the fabric up and heading off to the bathroom.

Joel lets out a long whistle as you reenter the living room, "Well, would you look at that?"

"Pervert." You scoff as he pulls you into his lap

"Not allowed to appreciate my girl?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek

"You just wanted to see what my boobs looked like in red lace." You point out

Joel gives you a grin, busted.

"Nah, what makes you think that?"

Joel's lips capture yours and his hands secure themselves at your waist. Your resolve loosens as your hands curl against the soft skin of his chest.

"What about your presents?" You ask breathlessly when he pulls back

"Got everything I want right here." He says, "Let's go upstairs, this old man needs a bed if he's gonna fuck you silly."

Joel's hands are back on you the moment he kicks the bedroom door shut. His lips find yours again as his hands begin to pull the straps of your outfit off your shoulders.

Your back hits the mattress and one of Joel's big hands snakes down between your thighs.

"Still wet from last night." Joel laughs into the kiss

"Mmm, I think it was from earlier. Seeing you shirtless, cooking for me was hot." You admit

"Yeah? Y'like me cookin' for ya?" Joel asks

"Course, who wouldn't wanna see a hot old man cooking pancakes for them on Christmas?" You tease

Joel delivers a sharp slap to your inner thigh, "Not that old, darlin'."

"Sure you aren't."

You push at his shoulders and straddle him, loving the way his hands gently rest on your thighs.

You hum in delight as his hips lift and he pulls his pants off, finally exposing the rest of his body to your greedy eyes. Joel's lips ghost over your nipples, teasing them with his tongue as he lifts you up so he's notched at your entrance. Eager, you move to push him in but he stops you.

"What do ya say, baby?" Joel teases

"C'mon Joel..." You groan, "I want it."

"Ask nicely then," he clicks his tongue, "Go on,"

You huff a small breath of frustration and Joel's hands squeeze your hips.

"Please," You mumble

"What was that? This old man needs some help hearin' ya." Joel prods

"Please, fuck me, Joel." You groan, wiggling your hips as the head of his cock teases your hole.

"S' what I wanted to hear," Joel says, pressing a wet kiss to your neck

Joel's loud groan mingles with your girlish one as he lets you go to take him in. Your mind goes blank as your hips begin to rock. Joel's hands roam your body as he pinches and teases the sensitive flesh of your chest.

"C'mon girlie, give it to me." He encourages

"I'm trying." You huff, the feel of your burning thighs was slowing you down

A loud slap rings out followed by a yelp from your mouth. Joel's big hand rubs at the reddened mark on your soft skin.

"Don't worry, I gotcha, sweetheart, let me."

Your world turns as Joel lays you back down on the soft mattress, pushing your knees to your chest you're practically folded in half as he pushes in again.

"Fuck me..." Joel groans in pleasure above you.

"Already am." You laugh breathlessly

Joel shakes his head but you see the smile playing on his lips.

Rough thrusts steal your breath away as Joel begins moving his hips in earnest. The softness of his belly meets yours as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours. A hand pushes into the middle of your shared mess and a finger toys with your clit. A whimper escapes your lips as Joel groans when you tighten around him.

"Gonna let me come inside ya hmm? It'd be the perfect Christmas gift for me darlin'..."

Your brain is mush as Joel's finger plays with you while his cock relentlessly slams into you. Your stomach tightens as he continues.

"I-I'm gonna-"

"C'mon let it out, soak my fucking cock." Joel commands

As if he's magic your body yields to him and you come. A strangled groan leaves Joel's lips while your eyes slam shut.

"Good girl." Joel coos down at you, his hips never slowing.

"Joel!" You gasp, the pain of overstimulation beginning to ebb at your brain.

Joel lets out a soft moan of his own, his brow furred in concentration.

"Where?" He asks

"I-Inside" You gasp

Joel smirks, "Yeah? Gonna take it like a good girl? Let me knock ya up, pop out a brat for me in nine months?"

"Yes!" Your hips arch off the bed when his hand comes down to grind at your clit.

Joel's hips stutter against you and a loud moan escapes him as he fills you. Gentle thrusts follow as he comes down, dropping your legs as he does.

Joel flops down beside you on the bed, his chest heaves a bit as the two of you catch your breath.

"Y'okay?"

"Always." You say looking over at him with a dopey grin on your face

"Wanna go finish those pancakes?" Joel asks

You laugh, Joel was such a typical guy, thinking with his stomach, "You just fucked me and threatened to knock me up but your first thought is pancakes?"

"Well, I was gonna get a washcloth and clean ya up first, if that matters," Joel says

"Wow, what a gentleman." You scoff

"Glad you think so." Joel mumbles

You lay next to him in silence, listening to his breathing and watching his eyes flutter shut in satisfaction.

"What if we did?" You ask

"Did what?" Joel asks looking at you, "If you're talking about round two, I'll need a few more minutes, I'm not twenty anymore."

You slap his shoulder and roll onto your belly, "No, perv. I meant a baby. You were just talking about getting me pregnant."

Joel looks over at you like you've lost your mind, "Are you being serious right now?"

"Totally. You don't want a mini us running around?" You ask hopefully

"Course I do baby, didn't ever think a pretty young thing like you would want that with me though," Joel admits, pulling you towards him so you're resting partially on top of him

"Really Joel?" You scoff, "You're like the hottest guy in the world."

"Now you're just buttering me up." He laughs his head hitting the pillows behind him

"I'm serious!" You smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips

Soft silence flutters around you as you watch the gears turn in his mind.

"Gonna have to marry you if you start popping my kids out." Joel grins

"Of course," You laugh, "You think I'm gonna go into labor without a ring on my hand?"

Joel's nose brushes yours as he leans a bit closer to your face, practically breathing in your scent. His hand grasps yours where it rests on his chest.

"Guess I gotta start looking at jewelry then, darlin'. You're gonna have the prettiest ring in all of Texas."

"Ugh, there you go again, plotting to spend way too much money on me again." You groan in embarrassment.

Joel leans in and steals a kiss from you, the taste of pancakes and syrup lingers on his tongue as he does.

"Gotta humor me here," He smiles into the kiss, "Let me buy you presents, baby."

Consider this a mini-rant against the people behind the prices at Sephora. I'm looking at you Summer Fridays...

Want more Joel? Check out my series All Too Well.