#but I leave it on all the time so my eyes adjust

[lexcys]

★observing rafe cameron x reader

summary: you were trying everything to hide the fact that you couldn’t stop staring at rafe, unbeknownst to you - he was secretly hoping you were

a/n: this is a surfer!rafe x shy!reader btw!! also this is like pretty much my first ever fanfic so I have no idea what the fuck I am doing so sorry if this is literal ass 😭 no mention of a fem!reader besides the fact that the womans bathroom gets entered

you felt the heat of the sun on your skin as you stepped out of the twinkie. the soft crash of the distant waves barely audible over the hum of the pogues voices

stepping onto the beach, a surge of excitement hits you. the day you and the pogues have been counting down to all week has finally arrived

you take one final glance into your bag, double-checking for anything you might have forgotten—sunscreen, snacks, a book, and a few other trinkets, satisfied you make your way over to your usual spot ready to take off your tshirt and shorts which hid your swim wear underneath, until you spotted someone out of the corner of your eye

rafe cameron

somehow the kooks had managed to pick the exact same date, place and time to visit the beach as you and your friends

while the others were hastly running towards the water stripping on the way down, paying no attention to the kooks, kie stayed back waiting for you

she was already in her bikini while your clothes weren’t even close to leaving your body and landing on the ground

''you coming?'' she asked, hand on her forehead shielding her from the burning sun

''umm'', taking a quick glance around you searched the beach in a, hopefully, unsuspicious way trying to locate rafe again

glancing down you turned your gaze elsewhere, you hoped the sudden heat entering your body was from the sun and not from the sight of rafe taking his shirt off

''I’ll join you guys later, I’m a little dizzy right now'', you spoke swiftly looking up at her, hoping to not get caught in the little white lie

all though kie nodded, the flicker of confusion in her eyes and a quick look behind you told you all you needed to know

you had never verbally stated your attraction to the him but you were pretty sure almost anybody could’ve guessed with the way you tensed up or seemed quieter and clumsier whenever he was in close proximity

taking off your top and shorts you shot a look over to the pogues who were already splashing and practically drowning each other. you giggled while settling down onto your beach towel before applying sunscreen and laying down on your stomach with a book in hand

even though your book was very interesting, the sight in front of you was much more enticing

rafe was currently riding a pretty common wave, yet you found yourself unable to stop staring

you adjusted your book hoping to hide the fact that you were practically ogling at the cameron boy

he was far enough out that you couldn’t make out the details but you still caught the way his hair stuck to his face, the way his body twisted with the rythm of the wave and the way he… kept turning his head towards you?

it seemed like he was looking for you, looking to see if you were watching him

cheeks burning, you try to push your delusions aside trying to find the passage you were reading earlier

you take another peek at him and by the the time you do, he was already out of the water, walking towards his friends with the biggest fucking grin, beaming with pride and confidence, already seeming to rave about the wave he just rode

hearing jj’s laugh you swiftly adjust and pretend to be reading your book that was definitely more interesting than staring at rafe’s wet body and stupid grin

while jj kept whining about how john b, supposedly, almost drowned him they both settled down on your left, luckily on the side where the kooks were lounging

fortunately he also kept talking which meant you were able to peep right past his face and steal short glances towards rafe

it was almost impossible for you to keep your eyes off of him. it didn’t matter where you would see him, you were always stealing glances or simply staring at him from a distance. others could call this stalking but you liked to call it observing, you liked watching him, but not in a creepy way, more so you were admiring him, he was pretty

you liked his side profile, the way his bangs framed his face, the way his eyes looked in the sun, the way his shirts hung onto his fit body - you noticed the way he was very articulate with his hands, which were always adorned with the same two rings, the way the corner of his lips turned downwards whenever he tried not to smile

noticing him facing you, eyeing your group, the staring quickly stopped

at this point the distance between the two groups was too small for your liking because of course the kooks had to settle down as closely as possible to the pogues - it was somehow impossible for them to keep their distance

given the short distance, whenever you actually were brave enough to look again it seemed like he was meeting your gaze, trying to maintain eye contact

heart beating way too fast and cheeks burning, you turn away from jj trying to initiate a conversation with sarah, who was sitting on your right

after a while of, luckily, managing to keep your head from spinning towards him, to meet his gaze - aside from the occasional looks to jj or john b whenever they were contributing to the conversation - you were desperate to get up, to empty your bladder

you dreaded getting up, fully aware that the beach bar was situated just behind the kooks, it meant walking past rafe and the mere thought of that unnerved you - every step would make you acutely aware of your surroundings, mind racing, until the very thought of moving felt like it might turn your legs into jelly

examining the scene quickly you notice half of the kooks gone, including rafe, they must’ve left when you weren’t looking - you feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders while also immediately feeling a certain misery overtaking you

this unrequited crush was spiraling out of control

strutting over to the bar you take notice of ruby with another girl sitting at one of the tables and kacey talking to the bartender seeming to be cracking jokes instead of ordering

walking past them you try to keep your gaze relatively low to avoid any sort of interaction. turning into the small hallway of the bar you exhale a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding

the calmness doesn’t last long because as you round the corner to reach the toilets you spot him, standing in front of the mens bathroom, phone in hand and looking quite bored

before you get the chance to look away he lifts his head and notices you, he smiles - you smile back, a very awkward smile

relatively quickly you turn your head away and enter the women’s bathroom. your head becoming a blur, suddenly already washing your hands ready to leave the bathroom

he must’ve left already, right?

''topper are you fucking coming, man?!'', you catch rafe through the door

your plan of immediately leaving and paying him no mind, began to falter two seconds after stepping out of the bathroom

''hey, y/n'', you hear from behind you, shit

you freeze up for a second, caught off guard, before composing yourself and turning around

immediately drawn to him, you couldn’t help but notice the way his hair had dried in quite a messy way, his slightly squinted eyes and the slight smirk splayed across his face

''how are you?'' he questions before you had the chance to greet him back

''I’m doing fine'', you manage to exclaim, nearly tripping over your words before adding the usual ''and you?''

you dig in your mind trying to recall the last time you’d exchanged words beyond the usual "hi" or "hey''

''ditto'',

apparently not completely satisified with your answer, he regards you for a moment, the stare causing a warmth to creep up your neck as you shifted uneasily

''why did your friends leave you all alone over there?'', rafe inquired with a raised brow - a hint of curiosity in his tone, ''they seemed to be enjoying themeselves''

letting out a soft exhale you answer him, attempting to maintain eye contact but faltering almost immediately, ''I wasn’t feeling so good'' was all you manage to muster before adding the word, ''dizzy'' in a rather whispered voice, as you lied through your teeth, hoping he wouldn’t see through it

if he did, he didn’t let on ''are you feeling better now?’'

you nod quickly, meeting his gaze

looking up at him with those almost innocent eyes, he can’t help but offer, ''are you sure? I can get you a glass of water'', an unrecognisable sweetness laced his voice, softening his usual edge

taken aback by his unexpected offer you hesitate before denying his offer by simply shaking your head

he let out a quiet snort, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched you struggle to give a simple answer

''what book were you reading?'', he asked, his smirk widening as he leaned further back into the wall, clearly amused at the way the conversation was turning into a playful interrogation, as if he found some strange satisfaction in making you squirm just a little bit

you froze, your mind going blank, searching for the title before realising you genuinely couldn’t remember, maybe because you weren’t actually reading the book

like a savior, topper emerged from the bathroom, a flicker of confusion passing across his face as he scanned the scene before moving past you both, muttering a quiet "let’s go," clearly directed at rafe

for a split second, it looked like frustration crossed rafe’s face, fleeting before you could overthink it, flashing you a smile he pushed himself off the wall and made his way past you

but before he completely disappeared out of view, he turned back with a smirk and called over his shoulder,

''hope you enjoyed the show earlier''

oh

[itneverendshere]

Hii i love the bitchy!pogue!reader series and i would love to know how they first hooked up again, like what led them to keep going after their first night together. That's all, thx in a advance if you do it, i love your writing

the way i ran to write this lmao, thank you for the request ❤️ let's just say it wasn't planned at alll....it was fate👀

in spite of myself - drabble

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you swore the first time was the last.

you were simply… curious. you wanted to figure out just how far you could push his buttons without him taking it out on you.

you got your answer. you went to that party with the sole intent of pissing him off, but you hadn’t planned on ending up in his bed—not that you’d ever complain. but that was it.

you’d gotten your taste, of course you weren't expecting to run into him so...soon.

you’d learned to play along for these little trips into kookland. your cheap dress, bought solely to get you through the gates, hugged you a little too close—but that was the point, wasn’t it? you made a show of adjusting the neckline, scanning the room with that perfected boredom.

the moment you spotted him across the room, you nearly snorted, because of course he was here.

rafe, in all his buttoned-up glory. hair slicked back like he’d asked his barber for the "douchebag deluxe," wearing a shirt that probably cost as much as your entire car. he looked so at ease among his kind, you wanted to pat him on the head and give him a treat.

bingo.

he was pretending not to see you, standing there with some stuffy old kook in khakis so aggressively white they probably had a staff meeting dedicated to their upkeep.

but you could spot it: the clench in his jaw, his fingers twitching around his glass.

honestly, it was too easy. you’d barely taken a few steps in his direction, and his grip tightened like he was trying not to crush the glass just at the sight of you.

aww. you hadn’t come here for him, but the opportunity was irresistible, how could you say no to that face?

you took your time, internally giddy at how his stiff he looked the closer you got. you let out a soft, exaggerated sigh as you finally slid up next to him at the bar, taking your time, letting your eyes glide over his shoulders and back down to those broad, broad arms.

god, look at those arms, you thought.

this idiot must curl yachts for fun. absolutely absurd.

his gaze snapped to you, “what the hell are you doing here?” he gritted out, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

poor thing, always so snappy.

you brought a hand to your chest, going for maximum innocence.

“who, me?” you blinked, leaning in with a soft, honey-dripping sigh. “just networking with the local elite. isn’t that what i’m supposed to do if i want to ‘rise above my station’?” you savored the horror flashing across his face.

rafe looked personally offended, like you’d just announced you were taking up golf, while you let your eyes drop to the line of his shoulders, lingering just a little too long on his chest before dropping.

slowly, slowly.

his face twisted like he was in pain, and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, protecting himself from the way you were very clearly undressing him with your eyes.

“cut that shit out,” he ground out, “i know what you’re doing.”

you raised an eyebrow, “doing what?” you shot him a wide-eyed, who, me? look, letting your gaze dip again. “i’m not doing anything.”

his face flushed as he hissed, “you’re doing it right now! act normal for once.”

he pulled away from you as if your pogue germs might rub off on him, but you’d seen that look on his face before.

“honestly, if you didn’t want attention cameron, maybe don’t wear that. kind of a slutty choice, don’t you think?”

his neck flushed deep red as he scowled. “excuse me?”

you shrugged, “just saying. last time, you had a lot to say about my outfit, didn’t you?”

“you’re fucking insane. leave me alone.”

you smirked, leaning closer, “oh, baby, i’ve already got what i wanted from you,” you purred. “unless, of course, you’re offering again?”

his jaw tensed, and he looked away as if even looking at you would ruin his day. but he was still here, wasn’t he?

“don’t flatter yourself. i’m done with you,” he muttered.

you shot him a wicked grin, “flatter myself?” you let out an exaggerated laugh, turning heads nearby. “i’m here on a date.”

rafe’s smirk dropped, and he cast a quick, possessive look around the room before moving his attention back to you.

“a date?” he repeated as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

you nodded as you pointed toward the back, where your “date”—some poor kook with a summer tan and daddy’s credit card—stood waiting near the hors d’oeuvres table, oblivious.

“did you think i came here just for you?” you tilted your head, letting the words sting. “i don’t do repeats, country club. got what i wanted, remember?”

he looked like he was about to set the place on fire, blue eyes narrowing as he glared at your so-called date. you could sense the gears turning in his head. god, this was just too easy.

“maybe you should run along, hmm?” you said, your voice light and mocking. “can’t imagine what your country club buddies would think, seeing you all worked up over a pogue.” you flashed him a dazzling smile before tossing a wink, then spun on your heel, leaving him there seething.

you could feel his stare burning into your back as you sashayed over to your “date.” this was way too fun.

lunch was mind-numbing, but free, so you were perfectly okay tolerating the “date”—or, as you preferred to call it, the idiot with a wallet—while he droned on about his family’s fleet of yachts or some bullshit about generational wealth. you nodded along, not listening as he bragged. as if you even gave a fuck.

when he finally paused to shove more overpriced pasta into his mouth, you decided you needed a break from the snooze-fest.

“excuse me, i’ll just pop to the ladies’ room,” you murmured, batting your lashes like the good, sweet little pogue he thought he’d bagged for the afternoon. as soon as you were clear of him, you rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

the second you got into the quiet of the bathroom, you let out a dramatic sigh of relief, shaking your head.

what a fucking bore.

you’d honestly rather be anywhere else—well, except maybe with rafe, since he’d probably drag you back to the ninth circle of pogue-hating hell.

as you were checking your lipstick in the mirror, the door swung open, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

“um, excuse you?” you snapped, eyebrows shooting up. “i know you have a thing for following me around, but the ladies’ room? have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

rafe didn’t answer.

he stalked forward, looking pissed as he backed you up against the sink, boxing you in without so much as a second thought. there was something about the way his forearms flexed when he did that.

ridiculous, he most likely got pumped up just pouring a glass of water.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing here?” he growled, his voice dripping with disdain.

a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. oh my god.

you clamped a hand over your mouth, but the sound came anyway, echoing off the fancy-ass tiles. “oh my god, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

he leaned in even closer. “you think this is funny?”

“funny?” you snorted, crossing your arms. “it’s hilarious. i’m here for lunch. you know, food? the stuff people eat? he offered, and i like free shit. it’s that simple.”

“you’re doing this just to piss me off,” he accused.

“oh, get over yourself,” you scoffed. “you think i’m obsessed with you or something? i wasn’t even thinking about you until you came barging in here like a lunatic.” you leaned back, giving him a brazen, challenging look. “can you move, by the way? i was enjoying the break.”

his nostrils flared, but you didn’t even care. if he wanted to lose his shit, fine—he was the one who walked in here. you stared him down, totally unfazed, holding his gaze until he broke it.

“careful,” you added, your voice mocking and low. “if i didn’t know better, i’d say you were jealous. because, i gotta be honest, you look like you’re about two seconds away from—”

“shut up,” he growled, his face inches from yours, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “you show up here, flaunting yourself like you don’t remember exactly how last week ended, like you weren’t begging me to—”

“oh please,” you interrupted, ignoring the pleasure that traveled up your spine. “let’s not rewrite history.”

his hand gripped your cheeks, blunt nails pressing in from either side as he pulled you close, capturing your jaw to hold you still. the pressure of the squeeze pulled your pouty lips together, forcing you to look up with wide eyes.

“stop talking."

you tried to smirk around his grip, feeling the bite of his fingers, but your words came out muffled.

“what’s wrong, country club? can’t handle a little conversation?”

“just can’t help yourself, can you?”

you could hardly nod, your eyes gleaming with defiance as you let out a small, mocking hum of agreement.

his hands slid down from your cheeks to cradle your jaw, fingers firm as his mouth pushed against yours. you giggled into the kiss, entirely too pleased with yourself as you tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling until he groaned.

“this is the last time,” his voice was ragged against your lips, but the words sounded half-hearted, he was trying to convince himself.

you smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, tilting your head to test him, see if he’d let you go. instead, his hand was already sliding up your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your lips, holding you right there.

“you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “think you can just look at me like that, say whatever you want…”

“who says i can’t?” you purred, lips brushing against his as you taunted, “if you don't want this, maybe you should go.”

his grip tightened, a curse slipping past his pretty lips, streaked with the deep red of your lipstick, glossy with both your spit.

and fuck, did he look good like that—disheveled, unguarded, his face painted with your lipstick like a silent confession of just how far he’d let himself go with you despite his fucked morals.

rafe let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he muttered, “last time, swear to god.”

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 11

Pairings: Bucky x Reader (eventually lololol)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Angst, stupid people, dramaaaaa

A/N: I aint ready for peace yet 😇🫶🏻

Masterpost

NYU 4th Year

The late afternoon sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon as you exited your lecture hall, your bag slung over your shoulder and your mind already racing with thoughts of your looming paper. The quad was buzzing with students heading off to their weekend plans, and you were lost in your thoughts when you spotted Natasha leaning casually against a lamppost, her red hair catching the golden light.

“There she is,” Nat called, waving you over with a grin. “What took you so long? I’ve been standing here for ages.”

“Class ran late,” you said, rolling your eyes as you walked up to her. “Professor decided to drop a surprise reading quiz on us.”

Natasha scoffed, falling into step beside you. “Reading quizzes on a Friday should be illegal. Anyway, there’s a party tonight at Walker’s place. You coming?”

You hesitated, already feeling the weight of your weekend workload. “I don’t know, Nat. I’ve got that big paper due next week, and I’m kind of behind. I was planning to get a head start tonight.”

Natasha groaned, clasping her hands together in an exaggerated plea. “Come on, please? Wanda already bailed on me, and I really want to see this guy who’s going to be there. I can’t get stuck with the boys by myself—they’ll ruin my whole vibe.”

You sighed, torn between responsibility and the infectious energy of your best friend. “Fine,” you said reluctantly. “But I’m starting my introduction before we leave. No arguments.”

“Scout’s honor,” Natasha said, raising three fingers in a mock salute.

You gave her a pointed look. “You weren’t even a Girl Scout.”

She grinned, undeterred. “True, but I can feel it. In another life, I was definitely a spy.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you parted ways. “Yeah, sure, Nat.”

By the time you got back to your dorm, Natasha was already busy texting, her phone lighting up with each rapid-fire message. You could tell by the sly smile on her face that she was talking to her crush. The thing about Natasha was that she always knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. She was a spitfire, sharp-tongued and unapologetically confident, but underneath all that fire, she was a hopeless romantic. Most guys your age weren’t ready for someone like her, but that never stopped her from trying.

You sat at your desk and opened your laptop, determined to at least get your introduction done before the night derailed into party chaos. The words flowed easily, and by the time you finished your intro and even managed to start your first paragraph, you felt a small sense of accomplishment.

Alright you texted Natasha, I’m done for now. Let’s get ready.

Within seconds, your phone buzzed with her reply: Finally!!! Be there in 5.

True to her word, Natasha burst into your room moments later, her arms loaded with a makeup bag and a pair of heels. You both commandeered Wanda’s bed, laying out a mess of possible outfits, debating the merits of each one as you tried to find the perfect look.

You finally settled on a sleek black mini-dress that hugged your figure in all the right places, paired with short heels and of course your signature neckless: your locket. Natasha went for a bold red jumpsuit with a plunging neckline and sky-high heels.

Standing side by side in front of the mirror, Natasha let out a low whistle. “Damn, we’re hot.”

You giggled, adjusting the strap of your dress. “We clean up nice.”

Natasha’s eyes drifted to the delicate gold locket resting against your collarbone, and she smiled. “That locket… you’ve been wearing it forever. I’ve never seen you without it.”

You glanced down, your fingers lightly brushing over the familiar weight of the locket. “Yeah, it’s kind of a family thing, my mom gave it to be before she passed"

Natasha, smiled sadly her curiosity piqued. “You never did tell me what’s inside.”

You held the locket, fidgeting it between your fingers. “On one side, there’s a quote about love that my great-great-great-grandmother supposedly wrote. My grandma told me everyone who’s had this locket would place a photo of the man they loved on the other side—so they’d always be close to their heart."

Natasha’s eyes softened. “Your whole family sounds like a bunch of hopeless romantics.”

You laughed. “Apparently. Guess it runs in the blood.”

Natasha smirked, leaning in. “So… who’s in yours?”

You hesitated, your fingers lingering on the locket before closing it. “No one,” you said, offering a small smile. “I don’t really have anyone to put in there right now.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Mhm, sure. No one at all?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not everyone is as quick to fall head over heels as you, Nat.”

“Hey,” she said, placing a hand over her heart dramatically, “I just know what I want.”

“And what you deserve,” you added with a grin.

Natasha nodded approvingly. “Exactly.”

With that, you both grabbed your bags and made your way out of the dorm, ready to take on the night. Natasha’s phone buzzed again, and she couldn’t hide the excitement on her face as she typed back.

You glanced at her, smiling softly. “Texting your mystery man?”

“Maybe,” she said with a wink. “Tonight’s going to be fun—you’ll see.”

The crisp night air buzzed with the energy of the weekend as you and Natasha made your way down the crowded street, laughter and music spilling out from houses along the way. The distant thump of bass grew louder with every step, and soon you were standing in front of John Walker’s house, its windows glowing and the porch already packed with students.

Natasha looped her arm through yours as you approached the door, her heels clicking against the pavement. “You know,” she said, her voice light but teasing, “I always thought you might have Bucky’s picture in that locket.”

You stumbled slightly, your eyes snapping to hers. “What?”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, don’t act so surprised. You two have been inseparable since kindergarten. Best friends, sure, but there’s always been… something.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she didn’t give you the chance. “I mean, hey, no judgment. I’m just saying I’m a little surprised he’s not in there.”

You were about to respond, to come up with some half-hearted deflection, but before you could, Natasha grinned and yanked you toward the door. “No time for heart-to-hearts now. Let’s find the boys.”

The moment you stepped inside, the heat and noise hit you like a wave. The living room was packed, bodies swaying to the beat of the music as red solo cups were passed around. You caught a glimpse of a makeshift beer pong table in the corner, surrounded by a cheering crowd. The scent of cheap alcohol and sweat mingled in the air, and someone had already spilled something sticky on the floor.

Natasha scanned the room with a practiced eye, her grip still firm on your arm. “There they are,” she said, nodding toward the far side of the room where Steve and Bucky were leaning against a wall, talking. Steve had his usual easy smile, but Bucky’s eyes flicked across the room, as if he was keeping tabs on everything and everyone.

Natasha released your arm and nudged you forward with a sly grin. “Go on. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” Before you could protest, she disappeared into the crowd, already hunting down her mystery man.

You took a deep breath and weaved your way through the throng of people, your heart picking up speed as you got closer to them. Bucky’s head turned slightly, and when his eyes landed on you, a slow smile spread across his face. He nudged Steve, who looked up and gave you a warm wave.

Here’s a revised version with smoother transitions and more natural dialogue flow:

“Well, well,” Bucky’s voice cut through the noise as you and Natasha finally reached him and Steve. He leaned casually against the wall, a lopsided grin on his face. “Look who decided to show up.”

Steve chuckled, raising his cup in a mock toast. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight. Thought you had some big paper to write?”

“I did,” you replied, crossing your arms with a smirk. “But Natasha here wouldn’t take no for an answer. Said it was a life-or-death situation.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Natasha, relentless? Shocking.”

“She’s practically a force of nature,” you said, glancing around. “So, drinks?”

Steve drained the last of his beer and set his cup down with a satisfied sigh. “You two go ahead. I’m gonna head over to the keg and see if I can beat my personal record tonight.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Best of luck, Stevie.”

Steve winked as he stepped away. “Now that you’re here, I don’t need it.”

As he disappeared into the crowd, you and Bucky stood there in a comfortable silence for a moment, the bass of the music thumping around you. Then, Bucky gave you one of his signature half-smiles, the kind that always made your heart skip a beat. “Come on,” he said, reaching for your hand and pulling you toward the drink table.

His touch was brief but enough to send a spark up your arm. You followed without protest, a small smile tugging at your lips. When you reached the table, he handed you a drink, his fingers brushing against yours—a fleeting, seemingly innocent moment that left your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze as you lifted the cup to your lips.

Bucky leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. But before you could think of a response, Natasha appeared from behind you, clapping her hands together, cutting through the moment.

“Alright, people,” she announced, her tone playful. “What’s the plan? Beer pong? Dancing? Or do we just stand here and look devastatingly cool?”

Bucky smirked, his eyes still on you. “I think we’ve already nailed the last one.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “How about we find Steve before he gets himself into trouble?”

Bucky raised his cup in agreement. “Solid plan.”

With that, the three of you moved back into the crowd, weaving through the crush of people and the haze of music. Even as the party buzzed around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Bucky’s lingering gaze—or the way your locket, pressed against your chest, seemed to grow heavier with every step.

"There he is!" Natasha beamed, stopping "Buck you go watch him, me and my girl are gonna dance for a bit!" Before either of you could respond, Natasha was already pulling you away, you turned around glancing over your shoulder briefly to see Bucky's blue eyes smiling at you as he gave you a single wave.

The music thumped loudly in your ears, the bass vibrating through the floor as you swayed with Natasha in the middle of the crowded living room. The alcohol buzzed warmly in your veins, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about everything—about the paper, about the tension that always seemed to linger whenever Bucky was around.

You and Nat were giggling, holding onto each other as you moved to the beat. It was freeing, exhilarating even, until your gaze drifted across the room and landed on him.

Bucky was leaning casually against the wall, his signature smirk firmly in place as he talked to a blonde. She was laughing at something he said, her hand lightly resting on his arm. They were close—too close. Her hair glinted under the dim party lights, and the way she leaned in, hanging on his every word, made your stomach drop.

Your world stopped for a second. The music faded into the background, replaced by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You blinked, trying to shake it off, telling yourself it didn’t matter, but the familiar ache settled in your chest anyway.

You tore your eyes away, grabbing your red solo cup and downing the rest of its contents in one go. The burn of the cheap liquor didn’t help, but it gave you something to focus on. You crushed the cup in your hand and let it drop to the floor, the plastic crumpling beneath your heel as you forced yourself to keep dancing.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath, plastering a fake smile on your face.

Natasha laughed beside you, her movements loose and carefree. She slurred slightly, her words barely audible over the music. “Hey! You… you took your necklace off!”

You frowned, reaching up to touch your neck instinctively. “No, I didn’t.”

“Then where is it?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she swayed in place.

Your hand moved frantically over your collarbone, panic setting in as your fingers found only bare skin. Your locket was gone. “Shit,” you whispered, your eyes wide as you started scanning the floor beneath your feet. “Nat, it’s gone!”

Her hands immediately went to your shoulders, steadying you. “Don’t panic,” she said, her voice slurring but her tone trying to stay calm. “It… it can’t be far.”

But it was too late. The panic clawed its way up your throat, and tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. The music was too loud, the crowd too thick. You dropped to your knees, your hands scrambling over the sticky floor as you searched desperately for the locket.

“Excuse me! Sorry!” you mumbled, trying to push past people, but it was no use. The sea of feet around you made it impossible to see anything.

You backed up, bumping into someone behind you. A pair of hands immediately settled on your waist, steadying you. “Hey, you okay?” the guy asked, but you shoved him off without even looking, your vision blurring with tears.

Natasha was back at your side in an instant, her hands on your shoulders again, her mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear her. The world felt like it was spinning too fast, and all you could think about was the locket—your family heirloom. The one your mother had given you before she passed away. The one that had been passed down for generations. And now it was gone, lost in the chaos of some stupid party.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you stumbled backward, your breathing coming in short, panicked gasps. You didn’t even realize someone was pulling you out of the house until the cool night air hit your skin.

“Hey, hey,” that same guy's voice said, low and urgent. You blinked through the haze of your tears, and your heart twisted painfully when you saw who it was.

Bucky.

He had his hands on your arms, guiding you away from the crowd, his eyes filled with concern. “Come on, you’re okay,” he murmured, leading you to a quieter spot on the porch. “Breathe, alright? Just breathe.”

You tried to speak, but the words got caught in your throat. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, your vision still blurry from the tears.

“Look at me,” Bucky said softly, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His words, his presence, grounded you just enough to pull in a shaky breath. “It’s gone, Buck,” you finally managed, your voice breaking. “The locket… my mom’s locket. It’s gone.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he glanced back toward the house. “Okay,” he said, his voice calm but determined. “We’re gonna find it.”

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “There’s too many people. It’s probably already stepped on or—or lost for good.”

“Hey,” Bucky said firmly, his hands tightening slightly on your arms. “We’ll find it. I promise.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was unwavering determination. His eyes softened, and he gently wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Wait here,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m going back in.”

“No, Buck—”

“I’ll find it,” he interrupted, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “Just stay here.”

Before you could protest, he turned and disappeared back into the house, leaving you alone on the porch, the night air chilling your skin. You sank onto the steps, your hands trembling as you clutched at your knees, praying silently that he was right.

The minutes felt like hours as you sat on the porch, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every time the door opened, you looked up, hoping to see Bucky stepping out with your locket in hand. But each time, it was just another person stumbling out into the night, oblivious to your panic.

Finally, the door opened again, and Bucky emerged. His expression was serious, his steps purposeful, but his hands were empty.

Your heart sank, the last bit of hope slipping away. He walked over and crouched in front of you, his eyes meeting yours with a steady calm.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice firm but laced with regret. “I checked everywhere I could. Asked everyone. It’s just… not there.”

You nodded slowly, your throat tightening as you tried to process his words. The locket—your mother’s locket—was gone. A family heirloom, passed down through generations, lost in the chaos of a party. You tried to speak, but all that came out was a shaky breath.

“It’s gone,” you finally whispered, the words feeling heavy and final.

Bucky’s hand rested lightly on your knee, grounding you. “I know how much it meant to you,” he said, his voice steady. “And I’m sorry we couldn’t find it tonight. But we’ll figure something out. I’m not giving up.”

You shook your head, blinking back the tears that blurred your vision. “It was the only thing I had left of her,” you said, your voice breaking. “And now it’s just… gone.”

Bucky’s fingers gently squeezed your knee. “I get it,” he said quietly. “It’s not just a thing. It’s her.”

You nodded, wiping at your cheeks, but the tears kept coming. “It feels like I let her down,” you whispered, your hands trembling in your lap. “I should’ve been more careful.”

Bucky shifted, sitting beside you on the step. His shoulder brushed yours, and he looked out at the street, his voice calm and certain. “Hey, your okay, its gonna be okay”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to absorb his words. “How can you say that? Its gone,” .

“I know,” he said, his tone understanding. “But your mom wouldn’t want you to carry that weight. That locket—it was important, sure, but it doesn’t change the connection you had with her. You’ve got all those memories, all those stories. She’s still with you.”

His words settled over you, comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. You leaned into his shoulder, letting out a quiet sigh. “Thanks, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice still thick with emotion. “For always being there.”

His arm came around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Always,” he said simply.

For a while, you just sat there, the distant hum of the party fading into the background. The ache of losing the locket still lingered, but Bucky’s steady presence eased it, bit by bit. He didn’t try to fix everything, didn’t offer hollow reassurances. He just stayed—solid, dependable, exactly what you needed.

You broke the silence, your voice soft and hesitant. “What about that girl…?”

Bucky didn’t let you finish. “Forget about her,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I have my best girl right here” his eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something unspoken between you, something heavy and meaningful.

Eventually, you sat up, brushing the last of the tears from your cheeks. You gave him a small, wry smile. “Guess I owe you one,” you said quietly.

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You don’t owe me anything,” he replied. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he added, “Except maybe a rematch at beer pong.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound a little shaky but genuine. “Deal,” you said, the weight on your chest feeling just a little lighter.

Now

Sam takes a deep breath as he reaches the door to your shared apartment, bracing himself. He isn’t entirely sure what he’s walking into, but he knows Bucky isn’t handling things well. He knocks firmly and waits, listening for any movement inside.

After a long pause, the door creaks open. Bucky stands there, looking like absolute hell. His hair’s a mess, his eyes bloodshot, and he’s still in yesterday’s clothes, rumpled and wrinkled.

“Sam?” Bucky’s voice is hoarse, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah, man,” Sam says, leaning against the doorframe. “I came to check on you. Can I come in?”

Bucky steps aside, muttering, “Yeah… sure. Guess you uh probably know everything already.”

Sam walks in, his eyes immediately catching the shattered lamp on the floor, pieces scattered across the living room. “I know her side, but there's two sides to every coin” The air feels heavy, tense. He turns to Bucky, his voice steady. “She’s at Steve and my place. She’s safe if you're wondering.”

Bucky winces, looking away as his shoulders slump. “Good… that’s good.” He lets out a bitter chuckle, running a hand over his face. “Guess you’re here to tell me what a screw-up I am, huh?”

Sam shakes his head, exasperated. “Bucky, I’m not here to kick you when you’re down. I’m here because we’re friends. And friends don’t abandon each other, even when one of them is making dumbass choices.”

Bucky scoffs, dropping onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. “Yeah, well… I deserve it.”

Sam takes the chair across from him, studying Bucky’s hunched figure. “You look like hell, man. Want to tell me what happened, your version?”

Bucky hesitates, his voice low and broken. “I don’t know. She was just standing there, looking at me like… like she was just disgusted at being in my presence ...and it hurt, i said sorry for the bar comment, but then we started to hash things out, I got so damn scared. So I did the only thing I know how to do—I pushed her away. Told her to leave.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, his tone sharp. “So you let her walk out? Alone? At night?”

Bucky’s face twists with guilt, and he nods. “Yeah, I know, i went after her but she was gone, that's no excuse i know, i put her in danger Sam, i can't believe it….And now she probably hates me.” He chuckles bitterly. “Hell, maybe she should, i do.”

“Don’t give me that self-pity crap,” Sam snaps. “She’s hurt, sure. But you know damn well she doesn’t hate you.”

Bucky exhales shakily. “Maybe she should. All I ever do is screw things up. I push her away because… because I’m too scared to admit how I feel. And now? I don’t even know if I can fix it.”

Sam leans forward, his voice firm. “You’ve got two choices, Buck. Sit here and wallow, or get off your ass and do something about it.”

Bucky finally meets his gaze, his voice barely a whisper. “What do I even say?”

Sam nods toward the shattered lamp. “Start by picking up the pieces. Then tell her the truth.”

Bucky swallows hard. “What if… what if it’s too late?”

Sam’s voice softens. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take, you cant just throw away the friendship you two have, i dont even know my friends from kindergarten, i couldnt tell you the slightest thing about em now….but you’ll never know unless you try.”

Bucky hesitates, then leans back, his gaze distant. “I’ve tried, Sam. More times than I can count.”

Sam frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky’s voice grows quieter, tinged with frustration. “I’ve been trying to tell her for years—little things here and there. Dropping hints, pushing the boundaries, trying to get her to see me the way I see her. But every damn time, she pulls back, like she’s scared of what’s on the other side of those walls she’s built.”

Sam watches him, his expression thoughtful. “And you think she doesn’t feel the same?”

Bucky lets out a hollow laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. But how the hell am I supposed to keep putting myself out there when she won’t meet me halfway? Why does it always have to be me to make the first move? Why can’t she give me a sign? Something, anything that lets me know I’m not imagining this?” Bucky’s voice cracks, and he rakes a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling out. “It’s like every time I try to get closer, she pulls back. And then I’m stuck wondering if I’m just some idiot chasing after something that was never there.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re scared, she’s scared—it’s a mess, man. But sitting here, letting the fear eat away at you, isn’t gonna solve anything. You want her to meet you halfway? Maybe she’s been waiting for you to show her it’s safe to.”

Bucky shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “I’ve shown her, Sam. Hell, I’ve been there for her through everything. I’ve tried to coax her out of those walls, but every time I think I’m making progress, she shuts me down. And now? Now she’s out there, going on dates with other guys. What am I supposed to think?”

Sam tilts his head, his gaze steady. “You ever think maybe she’s just as scared as you are? That she’s waiting for you to stop hinting and just say it outright?”

Bucky’s fists clench, his frustration boiling over. “Why does it have to be me? Why can’t she take the damn risk for once? I’m not the only one in this.”

Sam exhales, leaning back. “You’re right, it’s a two-way street. But you’ve got to ask yourself—if she’s scared, just like you, who’s gonna be brave enough to break the cycle?”

Bucky stands, pacing the room. His voice drops, low and pained. “What if I put everything out there, and she doesn’t feel the same? I don’t think I could handle that.”

Sam’s gaze follows him, his tone firm but empathetic. “Or what if she’s been feeling the same this whole time, but she’s been too scared to lose you? What if she’s been waiting for you to say what she can’t?”

Bucky stops, his hands on his hips, his head bowed. “I can’t lose her, Sam. Not as a friend, not as… whatever this is. She’s everything. And if I’m wrong—if I tell her how I feel and she walks away—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Sam stands, crossing the room to face Bucky. “Buck, you’re already losing her by doing nothing. This limbo you’re both stuck in? It’s tearing you apart. You’ve got to take the leap, man. Because if you don’t, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Bucky swallows hard, his eyes clouded with doubt. “And if I crash and burn?”

Sam gives him a small, encouraging smile. “Then you’ll get back up. And you’ll know you tried. But if you don’t take that chance, you’ll always wonder what could’ve been.”

Bucky lets out a shaky breath, his hands still clenched at his sides. “I’ve never been good at this—at saying what I feel. And now, with everything so screwed up…”

“Then stop overthinking it,” Sam says. “Tell her the truth. Not hints, not half-measures. The whole thing.”

Bucky looks at him, his expression caught between fear and hope. “What if she’s already made up her mind? What if she’s moving on?”

Sam shakes his head. “You don’t know that. And you won’t unless you ask. But hiding behind ‘what ifs’ isn’t gonna get you anywhere.”

Bucky stares at the shattered lamp, his mind racing. Finally, he lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Alright,” he says quietly. “I’ll talk to her. But if this blows up in my face, you’re buying me drinks for the next decade.”

Sam smirks, clapping him on the shoulder. “Deal. Now get yourself together, man. You’ve got work to do.”

Bucky nods, though the weight of what lies ahead presses heavily on him. As Sam heads for the door, he glances back. “Just remember, Buck—she’s not the only one with walls. You’ve got a few of your own.”

Wanda clapped her hands together, her tone light. “Okay, enough brooding. How about some brunch? I’m starving.”

Natasha perked up at that, crossing her arms. “I could go for some pancakes. What about the farmers market?”

You sighed, your head falling back against the couch. “I’m down for food, but we can’t go to the farmers market.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her tone edging toward irritation. “Why not?”

“Because we can’t go there without Bucky,” you said simply, your voice flat but firm.

Natasha groaned, throwing her hands up. “God, why does everything have to come back to Bucky? He’s not exactly the Farmers Market King. We can survive one trip without him.”

You sat up, your eyes flashing. “Stop it, Nat. Just stop. Look, we’ve all messed up before. Bucky’s not some random guy who screwed up—he’s Bucky, its him. He’s been there for me through everything. We can’t just hate on him because we got in a fight.”

Natasha scoffed, her voice sharp. “I can hate on him just fine. He’s an asshole, and I’m tired of watching him drag you through this endless cycle of misery.”

Your hands clenched at your sides as you stood up, your voice snapping like a whip. “And I’m tired of you acting like it’s so black and white! He’s not perfect, but none of us are. You think I haven’t made mistakes? You think I haven’t hurt him too?”

Natasha stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “You’re always defending him! No matter what he does, you jump in to shield him, like he’s some wounded puppy. When are you gonna wake up and realize he’s not worth it?”

“He’s not worth it?” you said, your voice trembling with anger. “You don’t get it, Nat. He’s not just some guy who broke my heart. He’s my best friend! You don’t throw someone like that away because they messed up once, or twice, or even a hundred times. He’s Bucky, for god’s sake!”

The room went silent, the weight of your words hanging between you. Natasha stared at you, her jaw tightening before she shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Fine,” she said coldly. “Do whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart again.”

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed off into Steve’s room. Natasha grabbed her bag as she headed for the door. Before she left, she glanced at Wanda and Steve, her voice sharp. “All I do is try to help, but if she wants to keep sticking up for his dumb ass, that’s on her, leave me out of it next time.”

The door slammed behind her, leaving an uncomfortable silence in her wake.

Wanda and Steve exchanged glances, both looking a little shell-shocked. Finally, Wanda sighed, brushing her hair back. “I’ll go after Nat,” she said quietly. She turned to Steve, her brow raised. “You got her?”

Steve nodded, giving Wanda a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’ve got her.”

Once Wanda left, Steve turned to. Steve hesitated for a moment before following. He knocked gently on the door. “Hey… you okay?”

There was no answer at first, just the sound of you pacing. Finally, your voice came through, quieter but still tense. “I’m fine, Steve. Just… need a minute.”

Steve leaned against the doorframe, his voice soft. “Take all the time you need. I’m here, I’ll always be right here…”

[soapssuds]

Gojo x Fem!Pregnant!Reader pt. 3

He comes back, but at what price?

pt.2

@awthem @just-lilita @aesztik @yozora7154

You fretted with your hands, your body all curled up on the couch as you waited for Nanami to bring Gojo back here, back home. You needed time to gather yourself, but both Shoko and Nanami were insistent that you get this over with. That Gojo needs to know the truth.

You were nervous and it could only worsen when you heard the front door open.

“And here I thought I would be living in a flat by myself, but no I got myself a whole house!”

His voice echoed in that excited manner he always seemed to have, it made you smile.

“I wouldn’t say by yourself, Gojo,” Nanami’s voice rings out.

“You mean…?’

You didn’t hear Nanami say anything else, but he probably nodded towards the living room where you were at (where you promised to stay and not run off somewhere). And all too quickly did you see a flash of white pop right through the entryway of the living room. His eyes directly on you, his blindfold haphazardly pulled off and hanging around his neck as he looked at you.

“Y/n-?”

His voice sort of choked out your name.

“But I thought- you- someone else-“

His mind was seemingly at work as Nanami decided to leave you both alone.

“I’m sorry, Gojo…”

His nose crinkled at his name as he walked up to you, his form seemingly towering over you as he stood in front of you. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“We’re married?”

“yes,” you managed to say, your voice small.

“You’re pregnant with my kid.”

You nodded this time, not once trusting your voice.

“And you…weren’t going to tell me…”

“We… got into a fight. You said how it was probably best that we never got together, and when you said you didn’t remember anything I just- I just thought that maybe this was a way of you not wanting this.”

You knew how Gojo was. He was quick to anger. Always lashing out. Especially when he was younger. You saw it when he was arguing with Geto, the higher ups, sometimes with you when you both were too stubborn to admit to being wrong.

Something like this… how could he not get angry?

So you prepared for it. Both mentally and physically.

You were ready for him to yell at you. Ready to be told that “you were really going to walk away because of a single fight.” But it wasn’t just a fight. At least, that’s what you thought.

And instead of being yelled at, Gojo merely fell to the couch beside you. The action made you jump as he captured you into his arms, “fuck…”

His arms pulled you close so his face could fit into the crook of your neck.

“G- gojo?”

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered, his breath fanning your skin, “call me Satoru or Toru like you did back in school.”

“A- alright, Toru.”

Your voice was still shaky but you could feel Gojo smile against your neck.

“Have we sat like this before?”

You looked down at him, the urge to run your fingers through his hair becoming strong, “yeah… though, lately, before the fight, you have been laying your head on my stomach.”

The moment you said those words, Gojo was already moving causing you to gasp when you felt him lay his head onto your stomach, his body slightly adjusting so he was more comfortable.

“Toru?!”

He looked up at you then, that same charming smile that you fell in love with adorning his lips, “what? I’m only doing what I used to.”

His voice was teasing, his charming smile soon turning cheeky and all too quickly it felt like you both were young and in love teenagers instead of two married adults about to have a baby.

What broke you out of your thoughts was his hands reaching up to caress your cheek.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

You leaned into his touch.

“I’m sorry for what I said, all of it. The fight, I mean. It’s hazy and I don’t really remember it, but…I know I was wrong. I mean, how could I ever not want this life with you?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 24

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

He’s leaving again. It’s harder now after everything. After that intruder. You shouldn’t want the soldier to stay but being alone is dangerous. He might be a threat on his own but he protects you all the same. It’s a twisted way to think of it but you could be the one he keeps safe or the one he tears apart tendon from toenail. 

He’s in his body armour, his cowl under his arm. You watch him march toward the door but he doesn’t reach it. He stops and looks at you. His eyes haven’t yet fully glazed over. You sit, paralysed for a moment, before you find some strength. 

You get up and cross to him, limping on your tender foot. It’s healing, slowly, but it will never be like before. You don’t know what to do. He’s blank as he looks back at you. 

You reach to squeeze his wrist, “I’ll be here.” That’s stupid. He knows you’re not going anywhere. He takes a deep breath and twists his hand up, slipping free of your grasp to latch on. He grips you tightly and dips his chin. His way of saying I will come back. 

He lets you go and faces the door. He pulls the cowl over his head and secures the strap. You see the shift in his posture, the tension as it nestles in his jaw. He marches on and the door opens and closes to punctuate his departure. 

You exhale and hug yourself. It’s still cold and desolate. More so without him. You hate to feel that way but now, he’s all you have. 

You hobble across the room and take the blanket from the couch. You sit by the fire and start your vigil. You rise only to tend to your basic needs; food, bathroom, otherwise, you doze or stare, feeding the flame so it keeps a steady crackle. 

Time doesn’t exist in this place so you don’t try to track it. The day melds into the night. Nothing changes. Not until the clatter. 

Your heart peaks. Adrenaline surges through the dulcet drone of your existence. You shake as you shrug away the blanket. The world hazes as the door handle turns and the hinge grind softly. Panic swells over you, a stone in your chest. You can’t breathe. 

It’s another monster come to attack. You lunge for the iron poker by the fireplace. You whimper at the weight on your injured foot but it fades into a pulsing thrum. You turn to face the new invader. You’ll fight, just as hard as the last time. 

You know by the footsteps alone that you’re wrong. It’s him. The soldier. You know the cadence of his gait. Your grip eases on the poker and as he appears, you let your arms fall, pointing it to the floor. 

He tilts his head and stops to stare back at you. His armour is dusty, his fingertips grimy, and his boots leave water in the stead. He approaches you, step by step. He looks down at the poker and reaches to grip it below your hand. 

He raises it and arcs it in a mimic of an attack, stopping it before his face. He brings his other hand around yours and moves behind you. He moves your fingers, adjusting them to clasp it firmer. He guides both your hands around the handle and he guides it back. He brings it down in a harsh slice. He does it several times. 

He squeezes and backs away. He gestures with his hand. You shake your head. He mimes the motion of swing the poker. He’s teaching you how to do it right. How to hit to damage. 

“I can’t--” 

He wags his finger. You have to. You sniff and turn your focus to the poker. You raise it again and swing. The air whips around your effort. He nods and wiggles his finger. Again. He unhooks his cowl and slips it off. He tosses it on the couch. 

He moves toward you. He surprises you as he bends and carefully moves your feet. He stands again and sets his own stance, waving his hand between the both of you. You do your best to replicate his posture. He nods and backs up. 

You try again. He urges you on with another point. You keep doing it. Over and over, each time more confident than the last. You’re left breathless. You aim the pointer down into the floor and lean on it. 

He stares then slowly bends his arm. A thumbs up. It’s almost comical. 

Then his eyes narrow and his face grows sombre. He shakes his head. He snatches up his cowl then goes to the kitchen. He opens the cupboards and examines the contents. He hooks his chinstrap to his belt and the helmet dangles against his thigh. 

He takes a milk crate from the corner and sweeps the contents of the cupboard into it. You gasp and come up next to him. What is he doing? 

He’s determined. He doesn’t notice you as he continues to clear out the cupboard. You watch him in confusion. 

“Are you leaving?” You ask fearfully. He stops and looks at you. His cheek twitches and his brows arch. “Are we leaving?” 

His lashes flick and he goes back to shoving packets in the crate. Your heart pulses. You could ask where but you know won’t get a question. 

“What do we need? Food? Blankets?” He nods as he turns to the fridge and opens it up. 

“Okay, I’ll help,” you say.  

He pauses and turns to face you. His face contorts and he mouths two words; thank you. You nod then hesitate. He goes to turn back and you grab his arm, releasing him as he shifts back again. You take your hand to your chin and push it towards him. 

“Thank you,” you say. “This means ‘thank you’.” 

He squints. He lifts his hand and looks at it then repeats the same gesture. The idea clicks in your head but you don’t know much more than that. 

“Sign language,” you explain. “I only know please and a few other things...” 

He makes the gesture again. You blow out a long breath and recenter yourself. You pivot as he returns to the fridge. 

“Blankets, clothes, got it,” you say to yourself.  

You limp out of the kitchen and grab the blanket from the floor. You’re scared and confused. You don’t know where he’s taking you or why. Still, it can’t be worse than this place. 

[loveesiren]

Doing It All For Us (Pt. 13)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Y/n has a little scare but it's not as bad as what's to come...

Warnings: Fluff, braxton hicks

Word Count: 4.3k+

Rafe blinked awake, his vision blurred as his face was pressed deep into the pillow. He reached for his phone, low growl spilling from his throat as he tried to wake up. He rubbed his eyes and unlocked his screen. The clock read 12:15. "Shit..." He muttered.

"Good afternoon, sleepy head!" You cood from the bathroom door.

Rafe rolled on his side and took in the sight of you. "Beautiful girl..." He hummed. You looked flawless in a flowing white sundress, strappy wedges, and a tan sun hat sitting atop your head. You had neutral colors for your make up today which made your Y/E/C eyes pop. "How are you this perfect?"

You smirked at his compliment. "Get up, baby. Topper and Kelce want to meet at the club."

Rafe gathered his thoughts, still lost in the beauty that stood before him. Shit, he had to meet Courtney to pick out a ring. He got up and pulled on his jeans. "You go ahead, sweetheart. I have to help my dad with something."

"Are you sure?" You asked, putting your earrings in. "I can come with if you want."

"No, sweet girl," He said, kissing your temple. "Go. Eat. Have fun. I'll meet you back here later, yeah? Then we'll put on a movie and I'll rub your feet until you fall asleep."

You smiled up at him. "That sounds perfect."

He places a soft, tender kiss to your lips before crouching down to kiss your belly. "Later kid, be good for your momma!"

You chuckled as you watched Rafe leave the room, continuously glancing back to get one last look at you. You took one last look in the mirror before gathering your purse and making your way down stairs. You set the alarm and locked the door before heading to your Benz Truck. Your car. The car you've barely touched since you moved here. You've had the luxury of being chauffeured around by your fiance and friends all year.

You climbed in and noticed you'd need to adjust your seat as your baby bump pressed against the steering wheel. "Been a while," You laughed to yourself. You adjusted the seat to your comfort and checked all your mirrors. You felt really...independent. And you weren't sure if you liked it. You missed Rafe. You wondered what he and his dad were up to today. But, to be honest, you needed a break from everything going on and lunch with your friends sounded great. You started the car and took off.

-

Rafe stepped off the ferry and scanned the crowd, spotting Courtney pretty quickly. "Hey Court," He greeted.

"So you really proposed to my best friend on a whim? No plan, no ring? You're supposed to let me help you plan!" She scolded.

Rafe chuckled. "I'm sorry. I couldn't wait."

"So where'd you do it?" Courtney asked as they began walking towards the town.

"In my room at the Bahama house. She puked the whole plane ride there, poor thing. She was so tired when we got there we just went straight to my room." He said, purposely leaving out the part about the gold. He'd save that for another time. "She just looked so beautiful in the late sun, I couldn't wait."

"That girl could turn into an ogre and you'd still call her beautiful," Courtney laughed.

"Nothing could take away her beauty." Rafe said softly, picturing your face in his mind. God he missed you. It hadn't even been two hours.

Courtney grabbed Rafe's hand and dragged him towards the jewelry store. "Come on, lover boy. She deserves a proper proposal and a fat diamond!"

Rafe owned nice jewelry. Gold chains, nice watches, his signature signet ring. But he had never, ever bought jewelry for a girl until you walked into his life. The diamond R necklace he had gifted you was something he stumbled upon on a TikTok. Now obviously, that jewelry was cheap and he'd never let a $5 zinc necklace touch your perfect skin. So he had a necklace custom made for you. But this was different. This was huge. This was a symbol of the love he had for you. Something you'd wear proudly for the rest of your life making it known you were taken. Owned. A Cameron.

He was overwhelmed with all the gleaming rocks reflecting in the glass cases. He didn't know where to begin. He followed Courtney, looking where she looked, trying to take mental notes of things she pointed out on each ring.

"And who are we shopping for today?" The store clerk asked. "Ah, aren't you Ward Cameron's son? Rafe?"

"Uh, yes ma'am." Rafe replied, caught off guard.

"We're looking for the perfect engagement ring for my best friend!" Courtney squealed. "Uh, his girlfriend." Courtney gestured to Rafe.

"Fiance," Rafe corrected.

"Oh yeah, he proposed without a ring. Can you believe that?! Now I have to help him find the perfect one!"

"Well, congratulations! I'd love to help you find the right one. My name is Renee." The clerk said kindly. "Tell me about your fiance!"

"Oh no, here we go..." Courtney said under her breath but still smiling as she looked up at Rafe.

Rafe eyes were bright and he beamed with excitement. "She's immaculate. She's beautiful, like a goddess, especially when the sun hits her eyes, they shine like diamonds. Her voice is like honey, soft and sweet. I could listen to her talk all day. And her smile..wow..out of this world. She brightens up the whole room, no, the whole event! You can feel her presence when she's near. She's strong, like a lion. Vicious when she needs to be. Bat shit crazy and insanely fun. I've never been bored around her. She's resilient. She's like hypnotic when she moves her body and -"

"Okay, big guy!" Courtney says, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm gonna stop you right there."

Renee chuckles. "Absolutely smitten with her, I see."

"She's my everything." Rafe smiles softly.

"Follow me," Renee says, gesturing them over towards a case in the back of the store. "Now, I don't usually show these to our younger customers, this is our priciest collection, but it is also our nicest, and guaranteed to last a lifetime. Longer than a lifetime. If she is buried in this ring, it will still be perfect centuries from now."

Rafe winced at the thought of you buried in the dirt. He didn't like that image. But he knew he'd be right beside you if you were.

"But seeing as you are a Cameron, and absolutely over the moon for this woman, I thought I'd let you take a peek."

Rafe stared down at the absolute stunning 20-karat emerald cut diamond ring that sat before him. It was perfect. It was perfect like you.

"Now, I also have some lovely options over here, a bit smaller, but bold with personality-"

"I'll take it." Rafe said, cutting Renee off and stopping Courtney in her tracks.

"Son, this ring goes for one million dollars," Renee chuckles.

"Rafe, I know you're rich but shit dude you don't have to drop a milli on this ring. She'll be happy if you gave her a piece of string, dude." Courtney said.

Rafe smiled, thinking about all the money he now had. "This is the one. I'll take it."

-

"So Rafe really proposed? No ring or anything? And you said yes?" Topper asks once again.

You laugh as you swallow the last bite of your salmon. "Sure did! I don't need a ring. I just need him."

"He still has to get a ring though, I mean come on!" Kelce added.

"You know what's funny? Before I moved here, before I met Rafe, I was so materialistic. I suppose I still am with some things. But all the guys I dated in high school always got me expensive jewelry and bags and all that shit. I loved it. It made me feel loved and powerful. Like I was better than everyone else. But now? Now, I don't know. Rafe makes me feel loved in different ways...better ways. If we lost all our money tomorrow and had to live on the cut, I'd be okay with it. As long as I was with him."

Kelce and Topper smile. It took everything in them not to tell you Rafe was out looking for a ring right now.

"Well boys, this has been lovely. But a bitch is tired and I need a nap." You say with a smile as you begin to gather your things and stand up. The boys stand up with you, ready to walk you to your car.

You gasped loudly, falling back into your seat and clutching your stomach. "Fuck!" You screamed.

"Y/n? What's wrong?!" Kelce asked, both boys quickly by your side.

You took a few breaths. "I - ah! I don't know!" You had a sharp pain in your abdomen that you hadn't experienced before. "I-I think something's wrong - ow, fuck! - with the baby!"

"Okay, let's get you to the hospital now." Topper said, scooping you up in his arms and rushing towards the exit. Kelce grabbed your things and followed suit. Topper got you in the car, sliding in beside as Kelce drove as quickly as possible.

You were trying your best to breathe but you were terrified. You weren't even in your third trimester yet. You couldn't be in labor could you? "Call...Rafe..." You said between breaths.

"On it," Topper said as he took out his phone to call Rafe.

-

Rafe pulled out his phone, signing the last signature on the paperwork for your ring. "It's Top," he says to Courtney.

"He better not of squealed." She sighed as she took the bag from Renee's hand, thanking her for all her help.

"What's up, Top?" Rafe said as he answered the phone.

"Dude! Something is wrong with Y/n and the baby!"

"What?! What do you mean?!" Rafe stood up quickly and ran out of the store.

Courtney grabbed the ring and stored it safely in her backpack before running out after him.

"I don't know dude! Everything was fine and then she just like toppled over in pain. We're on our way to the hospital right now."

"Rafe, hurry!" He heard your pained voice cry out in the background.

"I-I'm on my way! I'll be there soon, baby, I promise!" Rafe said before the call disconnected.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Rafe said, pacing back and forth.

"What's going on?!" Courtney asked.

"Y/n's in pain. Something with the baby. Fuck I need to get there now but the ferry is two fucking hours, I-"

"Dude! I took my dad's helicopter here! It's just a mile up the road, come on!" Courtney said.

Rafe breathed a slight sigh of relief before they both took off running.

"Renaldo!" Courtney called as she approached the helipad.

"Ms. Fields, are-"

"We have to go now! It's an emergency!" Courtney yelled.

"Okay, okay! Let's go!" Renaldo responded. "We'll be there in about 15 to 20 minutes, Ms. Fields."

Rafe's leg was shaking with anxiety as they flew over the water. Extremely grateful in this moment that he was friends with Courtney. Her dad was one of a handful of people on the island that owned a personal helicopter to use at their disposal. 15 minutes. He reminded himself, but it still felt like hours.

"We can land pretty close to the hospital. We'll be there soon!" Courtney reassured him.

Rafe chewed on his finger, a million thoughts going through his head. Was the baby okay? Were you okay? He felt guilty for not being by your side. The one time he leaves the island something horrible had to happen.

The second the helicopter touched the ground, Rafe hopped out and started running. Courtney thanked her pilot and took off after him. They made it to the hospital in record time and Rafe burst through the front doors, almost breaking them off their hinges.

"Y/n Y/l/n! My fiance! Wh-where is she?!" He asked the nurse at the front desk, causing a scene in the waiting room.

"Let's see here..." The nurse said as she grabbed her clipboard and looked over names.

"Now!" Rafe demanded.

"Sir, do not give me attitude. I'm trying -" She was quickly cut off by Topper's voice.

"Rafe! She's in here!"

Rafe discarded the nurse and ran to your room. There you sat, once again in a hospital bed for a horrifying reason. He never wanted to see you in a hospital again unless it was for the birth of your baby. But you were sitting up, smiling and talking to the nurse.

Rafe walked in slowly, chest heaving and sweat soaking through his shirt from the anxiety and running. "Baby...What's going on? Are you okay?" He asked, coming to your side and taking your hand.

You smiled at him. "I'm okay, baby. I promise. So is Wolfie."

Rafe was confused. He had prepared himself for the worst but nothing seemed to be wrong. Still, he checked over you for anything out of place which made you giggle.

"Braxton hicks," The nurse chimed in.

"Brax...what?" Rafe asked, as he leveled his breathing.

"Braxton hicks. They are essentially false contractions. Definitely scary if you aren't sure what they are, but they are harmless. All is okay. We gave her some medicine for the pain. I just have to finish up a bit of paperwork and she should be set to go home." The nurse smiled and excused herself from the room.

Rafe breathed a sigh of relief and pressed his forehead to yours, placing one hand on your swollen belly. "So you're okay? You're both okay?"

You laid your hand on top of Rafe's. "We're okay, baby. I promise. Just tired. I'm about ready for that foot rub." You teased which pulled a smile out of Rafe.

"Topper and Kelce went to get your car."

"Where's your truck?" You ask, wondering how he got here.

"Uh...it's at the dock."

You furrowed your brows. "The dock? Were you on the mainland?"

"I'll tell you later, baby. I promise. For now, let's get you home and keep you off your feet for a few days."

You wondered what exactly was going on, but everything had been so crazy lately and quite frankly, you were exhausted. All that mattered was that Rafe was here now.

-

Rafe drove your car home while you relaxed in the passenger seat, trailing your fingers over the sensitive skin of your stomach. Wolf was kicking ever so lightly, also tired from his big day.

Rafe hopped out of the car and quickly came to your side, as he always did. He helped you out of the car, grabbing all your things and walking you to the door.

"Are you hungry, sweet girl?" He asked as you entered the house.

"A little." You admitted. "Can we just order in and watch a movie?"

"Of course, baby. You go on upstairs, I'll be up in a minute, okay?"

"Okay," You agreed with a smile and headed up to your room. You worked on getting out of your clothes and taking off your make up before settling into bed and scrolling Netflix.

Rafe took out his phone to order food and call his dad.

W: Hello?

R: Dad, hey.

W: Hey, son. How's Y/n?

R: She's okay. The baby is okay.

W: Good. That's good.

R: Uh, hey dad? The gold is secured right?

W: Yes, son, it is. Why?

R: Ahah..Uhhh I kind of got Y/n a ring today.

W: That's great!

R: Yeah, I'm excited to give it to her, but uh...

W: But what, Rafe?

R: It was kind of....a million dollars.

W: Jesus Christ, Rafe, what the fuck!"

R: Hey a milli isn't that bad now that we have the gold right?!

W: *sigh* Atleast you're marrying rich.

R: I'm not marrying her for money, dad.

W: I know, son. I know. Just, uhh...Yeah. The gold is secured. Just go take care of your fiance and my grandson, okay?

R: On it, dad. I love you.

Rafe hung up the phone and smiled. He walked upstairs to find you in the bathroom, rubbing lotion on your swollen belly while your silky pink pajamas clung loosely to your skin. You were humming softly as you cradled your belly. He leaned his head against the doorframe of the bathroom and smiled as he soaked in your beauty.

"Hey, mamas," He said softly.

You turned to look at him and smiled. He'd never seen such glowing beauty before. Your face was bare, your hair pulled back, there you stood, swollen with his child. It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever laid eyes on. Like a thousand summer sunsets. This was all his. His family. He did everything for you.

"Hi, Rafey," You beamed. You smiled as Rafe stepped behind you and placed his hands on your belly, admiring how much you've grown. "It's funny to think how just a year ago I was the new girl on the island. And now we're about to be a family."

Rafe buried his face in your neck, inhaling your soft scent. "You're a dream come true." He whispered. He slowly removed one hand from your belly and reached into his back pocket. "Do you remember how I asked you to marry me in The Bahamas?"

"How could I forget being proposed to?" You giggled.

"Yeah, well, that's not how I planned to do it."

"Has anything we've ever done gone according to plan?" You chuckled.

"Nope. And I really haven't planned out the rest of our lives yet either."

"Planning isn't for everyone." You reassured him.

Rafe hesitated. He could give you the ring right now. He knew you'd be happy either way. But he paused and thought for a moment. "Are you free this Saturday, my love?"

"Hmmm, I'll have to check my schedule." You teased.

Rafe laughed and picked you up, carrying you to bed. He had ordered some Chinese food but by the time it got there, you were already out. He took out his phone and texted Courtney, Topper, and Kelce.

This Saturday, at the club. Plan a party. I'm going to really propose to her. On the beach. Please help me set it up.

Rafe waited a few minutes before he heard his phone buzz.

We got you.

-

Rafe had been so weird this week. But not in a bad way. Just very excited about Saturday and you couldn't figure out why.

Rafe was out and Courtney had come over, insisting on helping you get ready. They weren't very good at hiding things. Rafe obviously had a surprise date planned but you played along.

"I think this is the one!" Courtney squealed as she pulled out a deep navy blue, silk dress from your closet. It was a maxi dress that would definitely be blowing in the breeze. A low cut front and long lacey sleeves.

"I'm not sure Wolfie will fit in that." You teased.

"Oh sure he will! Come on!"

You let Courtney work her magic of getting you into the dress and doing your make up. This must be some date Rafe had planned. However, you were happy and excited to see what he had in store for you.

Courtney put the finishing touches on your outfit, including a small tiara that she laced through your hair. "Is all this really necessary?" You asked.

"Yes! You look beautiful!" She said. Her phone chimed and she quickly rushed to check it. "Your ride is here!"

She handed you your bag to match your dress and walked you downstairs. You continued to act oblivious, knowing that one of the guys were here to pick you up and take you to your special date. Once you stepped outside, you did your routine of locking the door and setting the alarm. Courtney walked you to the end of your driveway and you faltered when you took in the site before you.

A horse-drawn carriage sat in the street in front of your house and your fiance stepped out to greet you. "Care for a ride down the beach?" Rafe asked.

You were in awe at the gesture. His slicked back hair and dark navy suit had your knees weak. Courtney handed you off to Rafe and kissed your cheek. "I'll see you later! You two kids have fun!" She said before running off.

Rafe helped you into the carriage and you sat, speechless.

"Rafe..." You began. "Rafe what are we doing?"

Rafe wrapped an arm around you. "Oh, you know, just going on a casual date." He teased.

You didn't question it. You snuggled up to Rafe as the horses made their way to the beach. You listened to the waves crash against the shore and enjoyed the twinkling stars in the sky as you laid on Rafe's lap, enjoying the feeling of his palm against your belly.

Eventually, the horses stopped and you sat up. "Will you join me on the beach for a second?" Rafe asked. You agreed and let him help you out of the carriage. He held you close as you walked down the sand, standing slightly in the water as the waves washed over your feet.

"This is beautiful, Rafe." You told him. "Thank you."

"The night's far from over, my darling." He told you.

You turned to look at him, the moonlight illuminating his features perfectly and you could swear you were melting on the spot at the sight of him, ready for the ocean to take you away.

"I asked you to be my wife on a whim. I truly meant it. I did. But it wasn't what I planned." Rafe began.

You smiled but remained quiet.

"Before I met you, Y/n, I was falling apart. I-I didn't care about anything anymore. Then you came into my life and turned my world upside down. I've never met someone so...insane." He chuckled. "In a good way."

You frowned for a moment, looking back on all the pain you've caused.

"You're the only person I've ever felt true love for. You and our son," He said, placing his hand on your belly once again. "I want to give you the world and so much more."

You smiled up at him, enjoying the breeze in your hair and appreciating the way it messed up his. Rafe reached into his back pocket and slowly got down on one knee.

"I know I already asked..." He began. You took a step back. "But I wanted to do it right. You are God herself, Y/n. I can't live without you. I need you like I need air to breathe. I'm so grateful you chose me and I just want you to know...I'll always choose you. Will you marry me?"

He opened a small black box, revealing a huge diamond. You fought for air for a moment as you took in the sight of it. How did that thing even fit in that tiny box?

"R-Rafe..." You were at a loss for words. "Rafe...what?!"

"Please? Please marry me. I've never been so sure of anything in my life."

You stood speechless for yet another second. "Rafe, yes! Of course I'll marry you!"

The shine of his smile could be seen from outer space. He took your left hand and placed the rock on your finger. You'd never seen such a beautiful piece of jewelry.

"Rafe, you didn't have to-"

"Shut up," He said, standing up and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You kissed him back deeply. You had never been so happy in your life. You could even feel little Wolfie kicking.

You were over the moon about the little family you were creating. Nothing could take this from you.

"Come on, I have one more surprise." Rafe said, leading you back to the carriage and helping you inside. You weren't sure how this night could get more perfect.

You were all over Rafe as the horses took you to your next destination. When you pulled up to the club, you assumed you were about to sit down for a nice dinner. But as you stepped out of the carriage, the sound of cheering patrons led you to believe it was something much bigger.

Rafe helped you out of the carriage and held your left hand up. "She said yes!" He screamed and the whole crowd cheered.

Before you knew it, Courtney was running to you, wrapping you up in a bear hug. "You're getting married, bitch!" She squealed. She was in an entirely new outfit than she was from helping you get ready. You knew she had helped plan this. So did Kelce and Topper by the way they weren't surprised in the slightest, greeting you with warm hugs and praise.

You all walked into the club with smiles on your faces. You clung to Rafe's arm happily knowing that all the people here were supporting the two of you.

"Let me see the ring!" A swarm of women come up to you. You happily showed off the giant rock on your finger.

"Congratulations, you two." Ward said as him and Rose approached you. Rose gave you a hug, Wheezie soon following her as Ward patted Rafe on the back. "Y/n, there's someone here to see you." Ward said, motioning in the direction behind you.

You turned around and your jaw dropped. "D-Dad?"

"Hey, Sunflower," Your dad said softly.

You couldn't help the tears running down your face as you embraced your father in a hug. You hadn't seen him in months and here he was, standing in front of you.

"I can't believe you're here!" You said happily.

"Let's sit, for a second." Your dad said, helping you to an empty table nearby while other guests mingled amongst themselves. You sat back and relaxed, taking a deep breath as you rested your hands on your belly. You realized you hadn't had a moment to breathe in a while. "Look at you," Your dad started.

"Look at me!" You joked.

"A lot happened while I was away."

"Yeah," You sighed. "How do you feel?"

"About you and Rafe? About...this?" He asked, gesturing to your swollen belly. "It's every father's dream and nightmare." He chuckled. "But seeing you this happy...clean and happy. It's great. I see you've been taken care of and that's all I could ever want."

"Thanks, dad." You smiled. "So how was-"

"Rafe Cameron!" You were quickly cut off by Shoupe's voice as he entered the club with two other cops. "You're under arrest for the murder of Sheriff Peterkin!"

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

@outerbankspov @torturedtypewritersdept

[chimimon]

Your Words

Astarion x f!Reader

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: suggestive, like more so than I have previously written, I think… jealously, biting, and it ends pretty abruptly because I don’t plan on posting smut here, so sorry about that y’all. If I missed any tags let me know! Please! Like fr send an ask my way and let chi know!!

& what I have to say is… This game has me in a chokehold. Baldurs Gate 3 has me in a headlock. Like unimaginably so. I’m hyper fixated all over again but this time a stupid fruity vampire calls me beautiful and asks to bite my neck and I asjdjwwsjidkekwakksdnb :) oh, and trigger warning for Halsin mention. <- E.P.

No eyeful sufficed; it was not enough to simply imagine being intertwined when the sudden ache began a week or so ago while Astarion had been playing with a blade. It was one of those things he did often enough to be called routine, ordinary, or unsurprising. What did not happen as often or routinely was how keen your attention had been on such fixed activities. A dozen times over you had traced his veins, memorizing when they were most defined on his knuckles, his forearms and whether it led to the toss of his knife or not. Worse than that, his sleeves were rolled up and around the two-minute mark he noticed your hypnotic gaze. 

Curious, Astarion decided to see for just how long he could keep your attention as he made a show of stretching his fingers afterwards, adjusting his sleeves, rolling his wrists and shoulders before sitting onto the floor with his head in his hands to watch the fire from his tent. Only then did he turn his attention to you with a raised brow and all-knowing smirk. It was obvious you were unaware of your staring as you quickly turned away. 

But it felt as though every ten minutes you would find something new about him to gawk at, and Astarion read you all too well. In frozen observation you hardly blinked in between shallow breathes. The deeper into thought you dove, the more your shoulders sunk, and the more your shoulders sunk, so dropped your eyelids. 

The attention was reminiscent of your behavior at the Tiefling party. After he made his tipsy proposal, he carefully studied just how aware you were of the events to come in every interaction you had before the night ended. How restless you seemed when you lied coyly on your rolled bed. Or just how often you touched your face and neck as you met him in your shared hidden place. Astarion loved how clearly he took up your mind, how blatant it was. He reveled in your tunneled attention and patiently waited for you to give him the word, or a signal of sorts, feeling that it would be nice to have you initiate intimacy as he was secure in your thoughtfully lustful desire. 

But no move was made. 

Tonight, it seemed Gale had no issue making conversation with you from across the campfire as you two were loudly going over alchemy notes from a journal Astarion picked up just for you. You began to pull out leaves and branches from a pouch in your lap, holding them to fire for light as Gale leaned in studiously. It didn’t mean anything, Astarion was sure of it, but if he thought that if he was newly recruited or hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought you and Gale were a thing within this flame lit scene which burned into Astarion mind as he replayed the last six days. 

It was as though you were scared to be near Astarion, to get close to him, to talk to him, but with him alone. Watching him the way animals watch prey, but without any stalk in your stride, without a wiggle or means to pounce. Just heavy glances and light sighs. Karlach had snapped you out of this state a couple of times as it was in her nature to melt you into an easy, giggling mess. Wyll found something that reminded him of some grand adventure while walking a trail and you two seemed to bond over the found item, making Astarion snort. Shadowheart had also decided to warm up in your company and grew intent with whatever you had to say. The way she looked at you seemed far too soft and sticky for friendship and her demeanor buzzed inside of Astarion’s memory. 

But the straw that broke the camel's back was Halsin. Despite you currently seated across Astarion, now handing over some mugwort to Gale, he could no longer ignore having overheard Halsin’s request to keep you company, and how inconsiderately close he was to Astarion’s tent moments ago. By then Astarion was just waiting for you to stop by to talk about it, unsure and indifferent to whether you wanted his permission to canoodle with Halsin. But when you b-lined to the campfire, a suspicious creeping feeling pushed him onto his feet to be seated on the log in front of you. Since he became aware of your careful watch, he noticed how keenly you avoided him and began to wonder if you watched him the way rabbits watch dogs; to run. 

Gale would not stop talking, so Astarion took it upon himself to quietly appear beside him, peering over his shoulder with a tilted stare at you. When your eyes met and widened, Gale slowly, and unknowingly turned to Astarion before he could be cartoonishly and audibly spooked by the elven vampire's sudden appearance. Gale took it as a sign to leave and politely excused himself from your company. Those blood-soaked eyes followed Gale until he was hidden behind a couple bushes toward his tent. 

Astarion seemed to be squinting, his eyes moving from yours, down to your mouth, before landing on your lap. You scrunched your nose when his gaze returned and he rolled his eyes before letting out an annoyed, airy laugh. “My love, should I be concerned?” 

You were obviously uncomfortable with your lap sewn shut, and your posture too taut. “Concerned? About what?” Your brows furrowed before opening. Every muscle melted as you tilted your head, mirroring him. "I mean, I haven’t taken Halsin on any offer to play hunter and bear.” 

He leaned back, deepening his stare, annoyed at your stiff disposition when that stupid wizard got to have you malleable and full of conversation. 

You nervously smiled and averted your eyes. “You know I would ask if I ever wanted to-” 

“Would...” He interrupted. “Of course, you knew I overheard his little, steamy proposal. But that’s not why I’m hurt.” 

It was written all over your face that you were replaying the conversation with Halsin, trying to figure out where you may have gone wrong or if you sounded too open to the opportunity. Asatrion continued when you began to chew on your bottom lip. “Darling, you hardly look me in the eye anymore.” His chest deflated as he huffed out another whiny plume of air. “I mean, before I at least knew that you could talk to me about, well, all of this.” 

All of this swiftly caught your attention. 

“Astarion.” You calmly said, ignoring the ache you pressed between your thighs as you ran your hands over your lap. “What do you mean by ‘this’?” You could swear your heart was beating loud enough to let everyone in camp know that Astarion was the item of your mind consuming lechery. Gods, you could knead dough with how hard your palms pressed into your thighs in some feeble attempt to calm a carnal throb. 

“This.” He whined with his hands apart, referring to you two. “Don’t be coy. You’ve been keeping an awfully close eye on me, and more than that you’ve kept your distance.”  

“Oh.” You whispered, ripping away the steady eye contact. 

“Oh? What do you mean oh-?” 

���Astarion.” You stood up, awkwardly fidgeting your feet before you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes. “Astarion can I... I can, um.” 

Everything stiff and cold was interrupted with nervous stretching, like you were forcing yourself to warm up in his presence, and he was unsure if he should be bothered or relieved by it. 

With mean sarcasm he said, “Your words, darling." 

“Don’t- I mean.” You softly snapped, making him nervous. “Could we um… can we maybe speak somewhere private?” 

Astarion shrugged, lifted off the log before motioning that you lead the way. When the way led to his tent, he got anxious. To him the conversation could go a couple of ways. One of them being you were too nervous to ask to be with Halsin, and that despite him willing to grant his permission, given his current mood, it would be reluctant permission to say the least. The other way was that you were unsure how to tell Astarion you couldn’t do it anymore. It meaning to be with him, and for that he couldn’t blame you, at least not honestly. The fear of you abandoning him after one good night, in what felt forever ago, grew as you motioned him to sit across from you, both of you on your knees as he watched you struggle once again to look at him in the eye. 

He could practically hear it in your inhale, see it in your clenched fists over your knees, and in your eye contact as you finally faced him. 

In your mind, everything felt intimate, close, hot even. You could feel your fingernails dig into your palms and you were sure you’d bleed if you balled your fists further. “I’m not sure how to word this without...” 

He held in a vain breath, slowly nodding while you searched for the words. 

“This is so stupid.” You grimaced, bring a knuckle to your teeth. “Astarion can I just-” 

“You can see him.” He said with feigned relief. 

“Who?” Your hands relaxed. 

“Halsin.” 

“What? No, wait.” Your whole body melted as you tried so hard to read the man in front of you. “What the hells are you talking about?”  “You don’t have to be so embarrassed, I mean,” Astarion leaned back, sighing more dramatically as he had already come to terms with surrendering you over to him. “I mean who would I be to keep you-” 

“Stop.” You held out your hands, shaking them with the same vigor used to shake your head. “Good hells Astarion, no.” You laughed, finally feeling ready to be open about your needs. 

Astarion shot back up with a raised brow, tilting his head again as he drummed on his lap. “Okay, well now I really don’t know what you want to talk about.” 

The growing silence was easy to bear in the sight of your smile, shy and bashful, making him a little hopeful that this was going to be an easier conversation. 

“Great because I’m going to sound stupid.” You sheepishly smiled. 

“As if I just didn’t.” He sucked in his teeth. “Come on darling, spit it out.” 

“Not if you’re going to ask me to spit it out.” 

“My sweet.” The snap in his tone caused you to really look at his face, and he looked anxious. His brows were together and lifted, he may as well have been pouting but you were finally noticing it. “If it’s distance you want, I can provide.” He looked down past your head before his eyes trailed around his space. “I mean you don’t have to go as far as to fighting battles as far from me as humanly possible.” 

“Oh, good gods no.” You leaned down to catch his gaze once more. “Wait no that’s not what this is.” 

“Then what the fuck is this?” 

“I’m just feeling very…” you flicked your hands in the air like you were pushing away the anxiety. “I’ve been feeling rather needy lately.” 

“Needy?” 

“I don’t want to spell it out.” 

“I think I need you to.” 

“Damn it, Astarion.” It was clear he was going to quietly wait, as he was also sitting in front of your exit. “Needy, needy meaning… aroused... I’ve been very horny, lately.” With both hands on your face, you hunched over. “I’m sorry,” was muffled into your palms before your hands slid down to see his reaction. 

Astarion had a bashful but at ease smile on his face. He let out a sharp laugh until he finally really looked at you. You were gripping your thighs, your eyes dilated and round. The animal like stare and careful distance kind of made sense. “And I thought I scared you away, sweetheart.” 

“Quite the opposite.” You whispered, unable to maintain eye contact “So, if you’ll excuse me-” 

 Astarion hummed as he dropped in. His hands planted themselves on either side of your lap, his nose inches away from yours. “And if I won’t?” 

Paralyzed, you held your breath and could feel your resolve snapping. “Astarion, I just… I said… are you sure?” He coyly rolled his eyes, pretending to think about it. “I can be patient.” You breathed, leaning back before he quickly scooted in, catching your chin in his hand before you could retreat. 

“Oh, don’t go running away again. Not when I want you.” He was studying your eyes and lips. You seemed so lost in his tent. “Not when I need you.” 

“You’ve had me, and I promise I can wait.” You whispered. “Please don’t tease me.” The quiet begging pulled at his chest and his desire. 

Then Astarion smiled wickedly. “Don’t think I can’t smell the arousal from less than a foot in front of my nose.” Quickly he snatched your wrist. If your hand were a rabbit, and your wrist its neck, he nuzzled his cheek against its head, playfully biting the neck of the rabbit before you could try to pull away. “And I don’t care to tease pretty things like you,” poisonous desire spilled from his mouth as he asked, “But when you say needy, what exactly to you require of me?” 

Mindlessly you shook your head as you feebly fought to take your hand back. 

“Your words, darling.” 

“Astarion, please this is-” 

“Embarrassing?” He purred. 

You held your breath as he faced your palm, from the corner of he could feel the heat in your face emit on his as he sighed again. “This couldn’t be nearly as embarrassing as the competition I have, my love.” A shit eating grin plastered onto his face as confusion appeared on yours. “You know... when your hand gets more of affection than I do.” 

Humiliated and hot. You were completely humiliated and hot as he waited for you to respond. 

“I mean your I’m sure your fingers can only do so much for so long in my place.” 

Past embarrassment you felt it necessary to say “Astarion, you know that I need you beyond anything you can do for me.” 

“So, you have been touching yourself, naughty girl,” he kissed your middle and ring finger without breaking eye contact. 

“I- Astarion I wouldn’t have,” you balled up your hand in which his thumb smoothed it open again. With little force you pushed forward to cup his face with him still latched in your wrist. “I just- gods I just worry you wouldn’t say no if you didn’t want to just because I’m asking.” 

“I do say no, & I have.” His hold loosened as he pulled back, taking in the soft concern on your face before the thought of that hand between your thighs flashed in his mind. Astarion’s eyes lids dropped, your kind concern caused him to be hard with arousal while his ruby eyes glistened. “Must I worry you won’t ask even if I’ll honestly say yes?” 

Your bottom lip was white between your teeth, so he reached out to hold your jaw, his fingers pressing in as you went doe-eyed and dazed. He was so close to your lips, so he whispered on your mouth. “Go on, my sweetheart. Ask.” 

“Astarion…” his breath tickled your bottom lip as your stomach dropped. 

“Yes, darling?”  

“Please…” you voice trailed off as the humiliation of it all set in. 

“Please what?” Astarion lifted you up as he lifted on his knees, looming over you as he brushed your hair behind one ear with his free hand. “I don’t think I know what want.” 

With all the excitement this brought, you quietly asked. “I want you to please kiss me. Please kiss me, Astarion.” And without a second lost, he pulled you into his hungry kiss, cupping your face with both hands as he pushed into you. 

© 2024 chimimon

[steviestits]

Lord Munson Takes a Bride - Part 1.3

Written for a dm prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic's masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: T (E in later chapters) Summary: When Steve Harrington was shipped off to the Buckley farm after embarrassing his parents by presenting as an omega, he thought that he was done with high society and would spend the rest of his days caring for chickens and horses. That is until one day, the mysterious Lord Munson arrives at his doorstep to mate with him after his parents promised Steve to him so they could renew their squandered fortunes. Now Steve has to learn how to be a proper omega as he allows the alpha to court him. But there seems to be more to the arrangement than Steve knows, along with a lingering memory of a servant from his past. (Regency Era Omegaverse au which takes inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, and the Count of Monte Cristo.) Eventual Trigger Warning: Mpreg

(Link to previous part)

Lord Munson didn’t look angry, however, as his cheek throbbed a bright red. A look of hurt and confusion marred the alpha’s handsome features before he quickly schooled his expression into one that was more neutral. He then promptly placed his hat back upon his head and adjusted the brim with annoyed huff.

“Very well, pack your precious belongings,” Lord Munson sneered. “But be quick about it, lest you try my patience, and trust me, you do not want to try my patience.”

Begrudgingly, Steve curtsied, forcing a look of gratitude on his face while he reminded himself that this was for his family. “You’re too kind, my lord,” he said, doing his best not to let any of the sarcasm he felt leak into his words. “I’ll go pack my things at once.”

The alpha narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as he turned Steve’s tone over thoughtfully, but ultimately, he took the omega’s words at face value and replied, “See that you do, but make haste. If I have to come in to collect you, then you’re leaving with nothing. Is that clear?”

“As crystal, my lord.”

Steve then curtsied again before he turned on his heel to march back to his room, though not before catching Lord Munson mutter something under his breath about willful omegas. He chose to ignore the alpha’s bitter attitude. All upper-class alphas were the same. They only wanted to marry omegas that were good for breeding then became confused when said omegas rebuffed their advances, which Steve should know since he used to be friends with several previously.

Walking back to his room didn’t take long, though he wished it had taken longer so he could stomp around a little longer. Steve instead did as he was sent to do, not wishing to test the alpha’s patience any more than he had, and pulled out a dusty trunk from the back of his wardrobe. He hadn’t used it since he had arrived at the Buckley farm, since his parents had never summoned him back to the city, so he assumed he would remain here for the rest of his natural life.

A bittersweet feeling washed over Steve as he brushed off the trunk and placed it onto his bed. He had actually begun to enjoy his time here on the farm. The work was hard at first, and Robin’s attitude had been abrasive, but eventually, he began to view this place as home. Robin had become like a sister to him, making a pit form in his stomach as he realized that he might not see her again once he rejoined society with Lord Munson.

“Stevie?” Robin’s voice sounded before there was a timid knock on the door. “Stevie, I just heard the news. Can I come in?”

Steve ran to the door and flung it open, pulling her into a hug as he did so. Burying his head into her neck, he took in the sweet smell of apples and roses that was uniquely Robin. There was still a warmth on her body from working in the garden, bringing back memories of them gossiping while pulling weeds. He was going to miss this. He was going to miss her, and a part of him selfishly wished he could bring her with him, but he knew Lord Munson would never allow it, as he was barely letting Steve take any of his previous belongs. Another omega who was like a sister to him would certainly be out of the question.

Robin hugged him back then pulled away, so she could cup his cheek while rubbing her comforting scent onto him with the gland in her risk. The touch helped ground him and allow the tightness inside him to loosen slightly. It was still there, because he still had to leave with Lord Munson, but at least she had made it back to the house in time, so he wouldn’t have to leave without saying goodbye to her.

“I still don’t quite understand, though,” Robin said with a small frown. “Why have you suddenly decided to marry Lord Munson? Why has he suddenly come to ask for your hand?”

“My parents,” Steve explained. “They made a few bad investments, and Lord Munson has offered to help them in exchange for allowing him to take me as his mate.”

“They don’t talk to you for nearly ten years, and yet you still decide to sacrifice yourself for them? You didn’t tell them to make those bad investments. Why should you have to carry their burden instead of fixing it themselves!?”

“Because they’re my parents,” he sighed, hating himself a little for his desire for their love. “And if they are willing to admit that there is a male omega in the Harrington bloodline, then it must mean they are in dire straits without any other way to resolve the issues. They’re desperate.”

“Then let them be desperate. You’ve heard the rumors about Lord Munson. He’s a solitary brute. Everyone in town has said as such. Said that he has an air of danger around him.”

“I know better than anyone what they say, but I cannot abandon them like they did me. If I turn my back on them, aren’t I no better than them?”

Tears welled in Robin’s eyes as she said, “You’re a complete dingus.”

“I know, Robs. I know.”

Then Robin pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly. “If he lays so much as a finger on you, tell me,” she demanded. “You tell me, and I’ll make him wish he was never born.”

Steve could hear it in her voice that her words weren’t an idle threat, that she meant every bit of her statement. That warmed Steve to his core, glad that he had someone like her to care for him as much as she did. He didn’t know what he did to deserve her companionship, though he wasn’t going to complain as he never wished her to realize she could do better than him in regards to a best friend and brother.

“Of course. And he does have a summer home here. Maybe- Maybe once we’re mated, he’ll allow me to visit you or meet up with you to do shopping in town.”

“He better. He better, Steve, because you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Though he knew he should continue packing, Steve continued to hold onto Robin for just a little bit longer, etching the moment into his memory. He had heard the rumors about Lord Munson, how he never hired any staff from town and took his own everywhere with him. Everyone said that no matter where Lord Munson was from or his origin, he was clearly an inconsiderate scoundrel, who only had his own interested in mind. Not that the rumors changed anything, as Lord Munson was his alpha now, whether he liked it or not.

Part 1.2 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 2.1 (Coming Soon-ish)

[nanthegirl]

12.11.2024

• My plans to study before project time didn’t work out. I woke up early but I ended up rotting for a while. thumbs down.

• Tried testing my new setup and I found out that not only was water leaking from the holes for the screws, it was also leaking from THE LITERAL WALLS TOO. I thought I was imagining it. Luckily I caught it at the right moment and my supervisor was also able to see it lmao. I made adjustments and started printing a new one before I left today.

• I tried studying but after about 40mins I couldn’t focus. I tried limiting my lab time to 3 hours but I overdid it and my head feels like shit once again. The professor keeps turning on the bright ass light at my workstation but I literally don’t need it. They all wear glasses and they’re on the older side but my youthful powerful eyes will melt if I leave it on. I should probably just tell him to stop lmao. But I dont know if it’ll be somehow😭. The outer wall is also practically all window, that place is not wanting of illumination!!!

• I practiced drawing side profiles and it’s really beating my ass💀

The lab is closed tomorrow so yippee. Hopefully I can get back on track. One of the new girls in the lab, technically I’m also a new girl lmao but she’s newer than I am, keeps staring at me and smiling and she’s so pretty???? She’s initiated a conversation with me twice but her English isn’t the best and my German isn’t the best and I can’t speak French or Arabic. Literally took French classes through out my primary and secondary education but I refused to learn younger me was so oblivious. My parents should’ve made sure I learnt that shit.

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, Ch10 - Yan!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

❥ Word Count: ~7.8K

❥ Warnings: non-con, rimming (m. receiving btwn stsg), double piv penetration, lactation kink (w/ geto), mommy kink (w/ geto), fingering (f. receiving), cunnilingus, pussy slapping

❥ Summary: Double the trouble, or double the fun? Difficult to say when you're unfortunately roped into the affairs of two powerful shamans who can't leave each other alone, either.

Lately, activity has picked up quite a bit for Geto and his goons. He’s had to be absent for longer stretches of time, which gives you more time to plot. You do have the incantation and the instructions memorized by heart that Miguel has given you, and during times which he remains behind, he has coached you through a bit of the technique he’s embedded into your necklace, which is actually something called a cursed tool.

Much of this world is still unknown to you, even with the briefings Miguel has been kind enough to give you—hopefully without any of Geto’s curse spirits monitoring, but according to Miguel, most of the time they’ve had a green light on all of this.

“Initially, Geto instructed me to make it so that when you wear that necklace, it binds him to you,” he explains to you one day when Geto had been out of the city to take care of some urgent matters that you don’t care to know the details about. “It also grants you the ability to see curses, but I’d imagine he hasn’t released any around you since he hasn’t felt the need to…”

You interject, “No, actually. I… I tried to pull some things before and I saw some barely there blobs trying to prevent me from trying anything. So yeah, while my perception of curse spirits aren’t strong, I know that they’re around me all the time. Geto must keep some around to make sure I’m not up to anything that might hurt me. Before you ask, I don’t sense or feel any around me now but I figure you already picked up on that.”

Miguel doesn’t need you to elaborate, thankfully. He grunts in response, adjusting his scarf.

“Trust me, you’re not going to be stuck here for much longer. Not going to even lie to you, I’m pretty worried about Geto. Since the last family meeting, he’s been a bit…”

“A bit what?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you beckon him to specify.

“…out of character, I suppose. Have you noticed him moving differently at all?” Miguel crosses his arms over his broad chest and stares you down, waiting for a direct answer.

You think hard for a moment. Sure, he’s been a lot more hands off especially lately. He has lasted way longer than he had before. He keeps his promise of Satoru not touching you, and instead they remain focused on each other, and you’re allowed to mind your own business unless Geto requests for you to try something—gently, actually. Surprisingly gently. He doesn’t seem angry or disappointed when you refuse anything you’re not ready for, and he doesn’t even try to manipulate or charm you into it like he had in the beginning.

“…Actually yes, but I didn’t think too much of it. Just thought it was another way for him to try to get his way with me.”

Miguel draws out a sigh. “Well, there you go. Geto’s a principled guy. He doesn’t shift his gears at the drop of a hat, so either he’s thrown in the towel or something else is going on that even I can’t understand.”

What the literal fuck does that mean?

“That doesn’t…I’m sorry. I don’t think I get it. He’s still…you know. Himself.”

“You sure about that?” Miguel challenges, dark eyes boring into yours, almost like he’s piercing through your very soul. “Because had I not known any better, he gave himself up the minute he let you into his life. Of course I could be wrong.”

You chew on your lower lip, considering.

“What makes you so certain I shouldn’t take this, his motivations, at face value?”

“It’s like I told you, Miss …. He’s a principled guy. The minute he let you into his life is the minute he realized the inevitable.”

Oh whoop dee doo. More cryptic bullshit. Should you pry anymore?

“I see,” you reply, shifting in your spot. “Thank you, Miguel. For everything. I just hope that I can pull this off.”

“The chances of things working out for ya are slim, Miss …, but not zero.”

Geto seems a little distracted by something as he shuffles around the bedroom, preparing a change of clothes for the night. Perhaps it has something to do with what you overheard in a meeting you aren’t supposed to be around for and had it not been Miguel who caught you eavesdropping you likely would have been reprimanded or punished or something else right now.

But Geto doesn’t appear suspicious of you even now. You remain seated on the bed, completely bare. You feel comforted by the silk sheets against your skin as you clutch it tight toward your body. You slowly breathe out, trying to relax your nerves as much as you can around him.

You jump in your spot as he stands at the foot of the bed before kneeling to you. He’s disrobed, tied his long, luscious locks into that tight bun. He looks shockingly unthreatening, but you know better.

“I fear things may become a bit…messier in these next two or so years,” he sighs, and even you can see something must be weighing on his shoulders—what is his plan with the Night Parade? Does it matter? "I’m not sure how much longer there’s going to be.”

He joins you on the bed, and you shift in your spot, supporting your back against the headboard as you cast him a curious look. He leans into you, resting his head into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply, willing himself to relax. You grunt a bit from the added weight. He may appear skinny but he does maintain quite a bit of muscle and it’s evident in when he carries you.

“I need you,” Geto murmurs into your skin. His arms cage around the dip of your waist and you squeeze your eyes shut, biting back a sigh. God, you’re so fucking tired of this bullshit. No one’s meant to live like this, and he expects you to smile and fucking bear it.

You know, you’ve just gotten used to the idea that Geto isn’t initiating much intimacy anymore. All in an effort for you to warm up to the idea of a future with him and with the twins. But it’s not working for you, and he realizes that maybe his efforts are in vain and it all means he can still take advantage of you. While you have accumulated quite a number of small wins, you know they aren’t going to last forever. They’re fleeting, at best.

“What is it that you need, darling? Use your words.” Gods every time this feels so gross yet you don’t really have a say in that, don’t you? Even if Geto has given you a little more room for some illusion of agency you know not to let it get to your head. You snap off your bra and push out your breasts, presenting one of your stiff nipples to him.

“I need you,” he repeats, practically panting at the sight, running his tongue over his lips a few times.

Geto’s mouth hangs open a bit, his cheeks flushed, he’s been craving this for some time and you can tell. He’s kept his hands off for far longer than before, and maybe with the recent developments that you only inadvertently hear about (and by extension don’t confront Geto over because you learned your lesson the last time), you don’t protest and are a bit more receptive to what he wants. Relationships are give and take… even if he does basically all of the ‘taking’ in this particular brand of it.

His lips latch onto your bud, and you already feel the milk rushing out of your tit and spilling into his waiting tongue. He groans in delight as your sweet milk tickles his taste buds in the best way and one of his hands moves to fondle your unoccupied tit, his finger flicking the other bud to stiffness and pinching it playfully, making you inhale sharply. He laughs at your reaction; the dietary plan he’s put you on isn’t all that restrictive but he has mentioned the particular ingredients like fennel seeds, for instance, aids in producing more milk. The meds further stimulate the production and you’re more than certain some of the formula for all of this may have been imbued with that ‘cursed energy’ you hear and Gojo babble on to with each other on more than one occasion.

The glorbs every time he sucks up your milk like a suction are so audible and fucking disgusting each time. But he wants to be taken care of, that’s fine. You can do that. More like you have to do that. Your fingers scratch at his scalp, and he purrs, seeming to like that. He nips at your nipple in response and you whimper from the sharp contact. His tongue laves around the sensitive skin, and you moan low, not realizing how flushed and debauched you are yourself.

“Sugu…ru…” your voice is a bit strained but he hums in response, playfully flicking the tip of his tongue against the bud he just finished feeding off of before his mouth latched onto the other nipple. He takes both his hands and squeezes the large mounds of squishy flesh and you wriggle beneath the weight of his body. He growls like it’s a warning, sucking harder on your nipple like he needs it to survive and it might not be too far off the mark considering the recent developments. You feel something wet pooling in your groin and you know the sheets must be lightly damp by now and you aren’t ashamed of it anymore, more like on the path to true acceptance. Because it’s not going to be much longer. You’re so certain of it; soon you’re going to be free of this humiliation, and Geto can die alone and pathetic like he’s been destined to.

Your fingers dig tightly into the sheets when Geto sucks a bit harder, his wet muscle flicking off the droplets of milk that have gone astray. His lips trail between your plump mounds, feathery light but worshipping every bit of skin they touch. He stops, nips at your soft skin before lapping his tongue against the sore spot, leaving a few more marks behind. He trails down your stomach, peppering soft kisses there.

“Mamma,” his voice rumbles like a lion’s roar. “You’re so perfect for me.”

“I’m happy I make you happy, darling,” you manage to say, clamping your hand over your mouth to conceal an embarrassed shriek when you feel his tongue twist between your folds. Your body shivers and you feel a little dazed. At this point Geto knows how to make you feel good, knows how to make this not all that awful and you hate that so much. You hate that someone you loathe with everything you have has this kind of power over you.

“You make me feel the most alive I’ve ever felt,” he mumbles as his tongue laves around your sensitive core, the tip flicking against your stiff clit. “I want you to marry me.”

You don’t want to. You don’t, yet you know that even if you do, you still have a shot at getting the fuck out of there. Should you just… give in for now? Let him have another win?

Is it going to make a difference in the end? Even you admit you have your doubts. When Miguel explains the technique he’s used on your insignia, he says that there is still a chance for it to fail. In fact that there’s a higher chance for it to fail than succeed which is why you need to use it wisely. Maybe on another occasion when Geto fucks off with Gojo for a while.

A chance for it to fail doesn’t mean your success rate is completely 0. Just remember that.

“But Suguru…” you start to protest, but he cuts you off by shushing you harshly.

“Marry me and make this blasted world worth living in again,” he interjects while sucking on your folds, and your legs tremble, instinctively tightening around his shoulders. His hands rest against your fleshy thighs, massaging you gently. The wet noises from your pussy seem to echo in the bedroom, and your cheeks dust pink from more embarrassment. Even if you don’t have any potential witnesses this is so humiliating.

“But… Suguru, I…m not… ready…” you babble, you try to play up your role, but a response is a harsh slap on your pussy, making you weep a little. “Please, I just…”

Geto hushes you while twirling his tongue around your stiff clit, before closing his lips around it and sucking hard. Your heart is pounding so hard you feel like it’s going to burst out of your chest. Your body is clammy and sweaty and more heat pools in your groin and stomach.

“You,” he grunts, dragging his tongue down your spongy skin. “Are the only reason for me to tolerate a life like this. So marry me, Mamma.”

No.

He spits onto your pussy and dips his tongue into your hole, his eyes rolling upward to enjoy your debauched state.

“It’s not a request,” he growls low between lapping his tongue up and down your pussy. You feel like you’re floating in air; you hate that he knows how to make your body feel all kinds of euphoria when in reality you feel anything but around him. Your breathing is already labored and ragged, and that self-assured smirk on his face makes your face go red from both fury and arousal.

“Suguru…!” you shout, tightening your legs around his neck.

You see stars behind your eyes when you come, the sensation practically dizzying and you’re glad you’re grounded by the bed. Geto reacts with a string of dark chuckles, so condescending, so maddening. Your eyes peer up to meet his, piercing, twinkling from triumph.

He grins down at you, his hands still ok the fleshy parts of your thighs as he presses affectionate kisses between them. Your brain might short circuit and definitely not for the reasons Geto hopes.

He drags you down until you’re at his level, his body tenting over yours like a shield from the world. Like he wants to protect you from the horrors of it, but doesn’t he understand that all the horrors you have faced at all are all because of him?

He hasn’t even broken a sweat himself, leaning in to press his forehead against yours, syncing his breathing with yours. You try to appreciate the stillness of the moment before he decides you don’t deserve any time to breathe, but he seems pushy about the marriage bit.

His hands on your thighs adjust them so they hook around his hips. You whimper. You know what comes next.

“Marry me,” he murmurs again as his lips ghost over yours. “Please.”

No.

“Okay,” you reply weakly, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips finally meet yours, ravishing them. You don’t really kiss back but your mind drifts off to when you desired being kissed passionately like this, with someone you genuinely love and who genuinely loves you. Maybe Geto believes he’s in love with you, but it can’t be true.

“I love you,” he drawls against your lips, pulling away for a moment to slip on a condom.

Maybe he believes that he loves you. It’s fine if he does but you know you never will. His lips find the crook of your neck as his cock breaches your hole, and your throat tightens as you fight back another whine.

“No,” he commands with a yell, nipping against yours jaw. “Let me hear you, Mamma.”

“Suguru…” you reply in a weaker tone, and he growls in disapproval, sharply bucking his hips. His whole body is coated in sweat and some of his hair clings to his forehead and around his cheeks. Even in this state, he looks something akin to a powerful deity.

“Suguru!” you cry, arching your back into the mattress.

“Better,” he purrs into your skin, before licking along your neck and throat. “I want to hear more of your lovely sounds. We must commemorate today. You’re mine for the rest of our lives.”

No. You aren’t. You never will be.

“Suguru, please, I—!” You’re cut off with a kiss; he refuses to hear another word out of you now (unless it’s a preferred response). His tongue twirls around yours as each languid, smooth roll of his hips slides his length just a bit deeper inside. You feel the tip of his cock brush against it and you whine into his lips, hands sliding down his sides which makes him the one shuddering all over now.

It’s over before you know it; your walls clenching around his length and he keeps pumping inside you without stopping for a breath. His lips remain locked on yours; your fingers sink into his muscled skin and you swear your body might give out but he refuses to let up the erratic pace.

He pulls away just slightly, purring into your mouth.

“You are perfect for me, Mamma.”

You wish you could agree. But you do admit, from your focal point, the way his hair falls over his face and perfectly frames his sharp features makes him look like something from the Heavens. The way his eyes soften looking down at you, and not even with a hint of condescension, it’s… different. Whatever must run through his mind, it can’t be good, and it can’t add up for you. If he’s convinced that he’s in love with you, then you can’t change that. But you can work with it.

He doesn’t pull out for a while, just taking the time to feel you around him. To feel himself inside you. He sighs in content, resting his head between your breasts drenched in his spit, your sweat, and splotched of milk that he gladly licks up without so much as a second thought before lifting himself back up to flash a little smirk at you.

But even his smirk seems off. It doesn’t carry the same energy of someone who knows they have taken you away from everything for their personal amusement.

And you find yourself wondering what Miguel might mean by Geto officially surrendering to his fate.

Your hand reaches up to cup his face, brushing some of his fringes behind his ear. He is a breathtaking man. A devil with the face of an angel—isn’t that why demons make themselves appear angelic? To lure victims into a sense of security?

He leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand. His forehead scrunches a bit as he relishes in how your walls still feel like they’re pulsating around his cock, a few aftershocks from your orgasm.

“I need more,” he says, peppering little kisses around your face down to your collarbone.

“Suguru,” you reply, your hand dragging down to the crook of his neck. “Let’s rest for a bit. You seem tired, darling. Something’s troubling you.”

“You don’t have to worry about it,” he replies between more heated kisses. “It’s politics. Between our worlds. It doesn’t concern you.”

“You keep saying things like that, darling, but don’t you just…”

“Just what?” he beckons.

“Don’t you need someone to actually…talk to?” You can’t believe what you’re doing here; didn’t you just say you learned your lesson the last time you tried to meddle into business that had nothing to do with you?

His eyebrows furrow at that. Obviously you’re in no position to ask such things of him. But it’s more of a push in the right direction, a suggestion. Nothing more. He doesn’t have to agree with you.

“Won’t change anything,” he says after a period of reflection. “I appreciate that you’re trying, my love. But your role is with the twins and I, separate from all of that. You’re with your family here.”

You will NEVER be family.

Delightfully oblivious as ever to your own wars clashing in your mind, Geto kisses your lips again. Slow. Gentle. Passionate. Like he really believes he loves you.

The kiss grows more heated again, and sometime during he’s finally pulled out, he didn’t even come, his cock still painfully hard and standing erect wrapped in that condom. This is the first time he hasn’t chased after his own pleasure once he took care of you. This time he seems fully devoted to pleasing you, making you satisfied.

He bites, nibbles your lips and moans like an actor in a lewd video into your lips that have become cracked and red and swollen from his treatment.

“Suguru…?” you manage to utter between each kiss, each one more desperate than the last.

Geto moans your name, low and needy.

“I love you,” he confesses again, “I love you.”

You find yourself unable to say it back, but you don’t get a chance to say a word anyway; his lips meet yours again. You find yourself trying to return it, at least be a little responsive or reactive, try to keep him unsuspecting for a while longer. Even if you know he carries all of his monsters or apparitions with him whenever he’s gone for longer stretches of time, you can’t help but fear the slightest chance that he has someone—or something—keeping an eye on you even if Miguel or Suda insist that they would have known all along.

You can’t afford anymore fuck-ups. You can’t fuck up your chances again.

Finding time to spare for Satoru has become increasingly more difficult. With Yaga practically on Satoru’s ass 24/7, he can’t exactly make quick pit stops to the temple anymore. They have had to find compromise somewhere, so Geto has been back to visiting his penthouse.

Even if logically nothing can be done should Gojo not follow direct orders from the higher-ups, he still can’t afford more penalties, and Geto can’t afford to raise any more suspicion from the long stretches of time he’s been hiding away from his own duties. Just for a few moments with the love of his life.

“Are you sure about this?” Gojo asks, intertwining his fingers with Geto’s as they lounge in his king sized mattress. Sure, Geto may have excused these longer absences of his own as part of his duty but it’s in reality to stay a while longer with Gojo. Gojo’s the one feeling like a burden now, but Geto won’t have it much like Gojo won’t have it every time Geto talks down on himself and how much he means to Gojo. Can’t go around being a hypocrite, right? “It’s a big step, you know! I’ve always expected you’re going to marry someone as sexy and perfect as her. I mean, I was hoping it’d be me but I understand we can’t necessarily given the situation here.”

Geto rolls his eyes a little in jest at that last comment. Of course, in Geto’s world, they’re already married, practically inseparable, but Gojo has his world, and Geto has his. And they have to act as if they don’t interlock their bodies like rabid, mating animals between everything that’s going on.

“Yes,” Geto answers, kissing into his shoulder. Gojo sighs dreamily at the contact, snuggling closer to his lover. “I’m marrying her.”

“That’s great,” Gojo replies, but there’s an underlying hint of longing in his tone. “But how does she feel?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Geto quips as he trails more kisses along Gojo’s exposed, sweaty skin, humming at the salty tang hitting his tongue. “Isn’t this what you wanted for me, Gojo? Her being here gives me more of a reason to tolerate a life like this.”

Gojo can’t help but scoff at that sentiment, eyes flickering with something akin to envy.

“So what, I’m not enough?” he mutters like a stubborn child. Geto rolls his eyes again.

“Baby, look at me—“ Gojo does, “—Of course you are,” Geto counters, pecking his lips for good measure. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” Gojo replies with a longing sigh. He accepts another kiss, unable to hide the smile playing on his lips in spite of how much he feels like he’s going to miss out. “I’m sorry.”

Geto hums in response before capturing his lips again in another fervent kiss, a hand snaking down his chest to draw lazy patterns across one of his pecs. Gojo sighs again in that dreamy way, completely putty in Geto’s hands and he’s unashamed of it whatsoever. Geto is the love of his life, his one and only, and Geto feels the same except now there’s someone else thrown in the mix that they can both have fun with too.

“You’re always my forever, Satoru,” Geto swears in a whisper, his tone tender—a side to him only Gojo gets to witness. “We just have other matters to sort through now.”

Geto playfully pinches one of Gojo’s nipples and that draws a gasp from his lips, and Geto laughs heartedly, dragging his tongue along the defined lines of his muscles. Gojo brushes his long, slender fingers through Geto’s endless locks of soft hair, and Geto purrs in approval.

“I do really miss Princess, you know…” Gojo points out with that grin widening and brightening his previously sullen and worn features.

“Then come by sometime before the ceremony,” Geto suggests, “We must commemorate the occasion, don’t you think?” Geto insists with a knowing expression as he rests his chin on Gojo’s strong chest.

“Of course,” Gojo answers, that grin still plastered on his face like it’s been sewn on there. A little glint in his azure eyes suggests something a bit… worse, like there’s something else he’s plotting.

While Geto’s still off visiting Satoru, you’re still left with little time to plot your escape plan when you have to attend to the twins the majority of his absence. Both Miguel and Suda have found ways to pull you aside to give you a pointer or two but they know they don’t want to make things more suspicious to the twins but they seem so lost in their own universes you doubt it’s going to be much of an issue.

But a part of you also knows not to underestimate anything. A part of you still tries to amplify your perception of curse spirits but you don’t detect any around you at this point in time. No matter what you’re doing, whether you’re accompanying the girls during their video game sessions or when they want to opt for something else. Or when they want to go out and about—not without one of Geto’s loyal goons keeping a close eye on you while you take the twins out of the temple. You do try to see if you can pick up any during any outings with them but you have failed each time. The most you can make out are outlines of spirits, but Nanako and Mimiko has exorcised them before you can react.

That’s where you learn a bit more about what they can do. Mimiko can manipulate with that doll she carries around with her everywhere. Meanwhile, you understand why Nanako is attached to a camera—she can manipulate curse spirits through photos. You don’t understand what any of this means, but it’s interesting to watch. Even if you don’t understand the full extent of what happens in front of you just yet.

Miguel has mentioned during one of his limited coaching sessions that the first step to being a sorcerer at all is being able to perceive curses. Yet you have failed spectacularly at that part. It’s true that kids and animals are the most sensitive to their presence, and you might have recalled sensing spirits like the Hat Man or the Smiling Man from popular lore.

“All curses are human-born,” he remember him explaining to you one day. “They develop through the negative emotions of humans. That’s why we often hear that most of our struggles are self-made. It’s true, isn’t it, given what we h ave to deal with, huh? Being a sorcerer is a thankless job and often seen as a bunch of hooey to those monkeys. Let’s just say it’s worse in the more rural areas, where people like me and the twins came from.”

“I can only imagine,” you find yourself mumbling in response. “This must take a lot of self-control to master.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” he concedes with a nod. “But manipulating and controlling your cursed energy—something everyone has, sorcerer or not—takes mostly a deeply innate ability. Some people are just gifted at that stuff. Like Geto or that Satoru Gojo punk. They’re the best a small world like ours has to offer.”

“So I’ve been told,” you mutter to yourself.

Miguel rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder, flashing you a smirk. “Listen, Miss …. Just remember you do have backup in case things go awry. I can’t guarantee we won’t get caught, but don’t worry about us when that happens. You need to get out of here. You don’t belong here.”

You can’t help smiling.

“I’m so glad you’re deciding to help me get the hell out of here,” you breathe, “I just can’t help but wonder why.”

Miguel gives you a non-committal hum.

“You just seem like someone worth sticking out for,” he replies, “But honestly, I don’t really have a good reason behind it. Seeing someone like you, someone who was probably minding your own damn business before all of this, going through what you are… just doesn’t sit right with me. I’m not claiming to be good, like I told you before.”

“Thank you,” you tell him again. He returns your smile.

“No need, Miss ….”

“Princess!” Gojo exclaims with glee riddled all over his expression as he climbs down the stairs to greet you. “Congratulations on your engagement. It was going to happen sooner or later.”

He strides up to you, cups your face and greets you with a long smack of his lips against yours before approaching Geto and doing the same. Geto secures a possessive hold around Gojo’s hips so he doesn’t pull entirely away from him and it doesn’t seem like Gojo’s protesting, anyway. When Geto twists his neck to face you, your face falls upon realization. You know that look.

That can’t be good news for you, but when do you ever have good options between them?

“My love, can you make this final exception for the sake of celebration? Satoru does want to wish us well, you know,” Geto scoots you closer into him, his lips against your ear. “After that, he doesn’t have to touch you again, but you can do whatever you like.”

“But Suguru,” you begin, before eyeballing Satoru who’s waiting beside you with eagerness evident in those sharp oceanic eyes, deeply unsettling the longer you stare at them. Something about Satoru aside from the obvious seems… off-putting. You can’t place what it is, but you know you have heard many of Geto’s goons refer to him as some kind of God in the world of jujutsu sorcery. But he’s far from a merciful God, or even a good one.

But you do remember what Miguel says about that—that they’re sorcerers, not saints. They don’t claim to be good or right in whatever they do, and this holds true for both Geto and Gojo.

Gojo bounces his leg out of impatience, meeting your gaze full of hope and passion. He has missed having the agency to touch you, to do as he pleases…

“Please, my love,” Suguru pleads with a little growl, his hand reaching out to you and brushing his finger along the chain around your neck, jingling a bit as it moves. “Just this once. I won’t request this again another time.”

You don’t believe that in the slightest, yet you know you might not be here for much longer than you have to be. You cling onto that hope that whatever you plot with Miguel and Suda that it will work even if those chances are slim.

He promised it’s not zero, you remind yourself, that’s enough for me.

“Okay,” you concede with a weak tone, unable to wholly say no this time. If Geto swears this will be the only time before the marriage ceremony.

Tweedledum’s eyes twinkle from sheer happiness, and Geto loosens his grip on him so he has full autonomy to pounce on you and pin you to the large couch like an untamed animal. Geto laughs in dark amusement as Gojo smothers your face and neck in slobbery, sloppy kisses before he locks his body around yours; your chests pressing so tightly together you fear you might suffocate from the proximity.

“Fuck, gorgeous, I missed you, missed you so much,” Gojo babbles between playful and messy little swirls of his tongue against your jaw. You can’t even struggle or squirm; the added weight too much, keeping you secured in place and a gasp leaves your lips as he digs one of his knees into your crotch, forcing your legs apart. He digs into your crotch and grinds against your sensitive core, which you already feel some slick building and dampening your panties and his pants.

“Looks like she missed you, Satoru,” you hear Geto purr from somewhere above you but you can’t even adjust in your place. You hear Gojo groan as Geto yanks his pants and boxers down, leaning into to smack his lips against his ass and perineum.

Gojo lets out a shuddering gasp, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he whimpers and wriggles closer to the sensation.

“God you’re so fucking mean,” Gojo bites out, pathetically nibbling at your ear to try to ground himself and you hate that you’re immobile practically.

“Please… can’t breathe,” you gasp out and Gojo’s lips quirk upward as he adjusts himself ever so slightly, but still rubbing his knee into your damp crotch.

“Sorry about that, Princess. Better?” he purrs into your ear before nibbling on the lobe. You whimper in response. A slight improvement sure but you’re still immobile, just how they like it.

Gojo’s eyes dilate as Geto slathers his tongue around the rim of his tight hole, and he moans low into your skin.

“Fuck, fuck, baby, stop…” he begs through a lewd moan. “Being so fucking mean…”

Geto’s hand comes down hard on his ass.

“Do you mean that, Satoru?” he teases, the tip of his tongue catching into his hole and making Gojo squirm under the slightest touch or sensation

“N-no,” he groans, inching his ass closer and sticking it more upward like the obedient dog Geto’s trained him to be. You keep your eyes shut, unable to witness this like you have countless times before. Gojo seeks reprieve from the torment by tormenting you; his knee still grinding into your crotch and making you whimper and whine and weep. His lips leaving behind little marks that tingle in their wake.

“Sssatoru…” you slur, your eyes rolling back into your skull as your orgasm sends shockwaves through your body. He grunts in approval, plunging his slobbery lips onto yours and rolling his tongue against your shier one. He grabs one of your hands and guides it to his cock, veiny and swollen and leaking. You wrap your hand around his size and brush your thumb against his slit and he sucks in a shaky breath, approving and needy. He’s getting worked on both ends and he adjusts his position for you to have some wiggle room and you can focus on getting him off while Geto is still busy eating him out. His expert tongue laves between his perineum and his asshole and somehow Gojo can still maintain some semblance of composure.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” he strains his voice through the soft moans as he fucks his cock into your soft palm. “I got you. You have nothing to worry—fuck—about.”

He peels your panties aside and dips his finger between your damp, slick folds and you utter a little whimper.

“Please, I can’t,” you plea, but Gojo only tuts at you as he draws lazy circles around your stiff little bundle of nerves.

“Yes you can,” he snarls, grunting as his own orgasm rushes through his body but somehow he can remain composed while he’s tending to you. Geto shuffles around in the back, before repositioning Gojo and you by extension. Gojo sits up and rests you on one of his legs as he continues to play with your soaked pussy.

Your hand doesn’t dare to leave his cock, knowing you could be punished if you did, even if Geto swears not to bring harm to you, it doesn’t mean he can’t find other ways to get his point across. Geto watches from beside the two of you as you fondle each other. Your body is coiling from the intense heat, and you find yourself bucking into Gojo’s skillful, eager fingers.

“That’s it,” Gojo praises, kissing your cheek. “I’m not so bad, right Princess?”

When you don’t answer, you hear Geto click his tongue in disapproval. Dread fills your chest at that.

“He asked you a question, love.”

“You m-make me f-feel good, Satoru,” you stammer and Gojo coos at you as he slips another finger inside you.

“Goooood. That’s all I want, Princess. I just want to make you feel good, be a part of your life. S’not fair that I don’t get my share these days but bearing the responsibility of being the strongest means I can’t be here as much as I’d like to be. Can you forgive me for that, Princess?”

He twists his fingers inside you and brushes against your spot, making you thrash in his hold. Your grasp on his shaft tightens and he sighs in delight.

“I f-forgive you b-but w-we miss you. S-satoru…!” Your free hand clutches at his wrist as you feel another wave of an orgasm coming on and you can’t take it; you splatter all over his hand and some of your arousal splashes onto the ground.

“Gorgeous,” Gojo murmurs, his tone reverent, “So fucking gorgeous on my fingers. Now you can take my cock. It’s missed your perfect little pussy.”

Geto chuckles as he tears open the condom and helps Gojo slip it onto his strained, throbbing cock. He presses a soft kiss to the tip before Gojo hoists you up like you weigh a bucket of feathers and sinks you onto his cock until just the head enters your tight, soppy heat. Your juices make it easy to slide you all the way down to the base of his cock, and Geto growls as he watches the scene unfold intently; his hand resting on his lap as his own cock strains against his slacks.

“Fuck, so fucking tight. Guess even Gsto’s cock doesn’t stretch you out for long, huh? Fucking perfect for me,” Gojo babbles as he bounces you on his cock like you’re his cheap whore and it feels so fucking humiliating yet you’re moaning because you can’t deny how good it feels. Gojo’s size doesn’t make you as uncomfortable as Geto’s does; he’s much easier to take.

“Hear that, Suguru? Man, she fucking loves me!” Gojo cackles as he bucks his hips in time with moving you up and down.

“Of course she does,” Geto replies as he pets Gojo’s hair, kissing his temple. Geto rests his free hand on your clit and rubs hard on it, making you shriek from the overstimulation. The sounds of Gojo’s cock slapping against you and the lewd squelching from your juices reverberates through your ears like a loud bass and fuck you hate it so much. You hate that it’s beginning to feel kind of good.

“You should see how fucking good you look right now,” Gojo rambles on again as he whips out his smart phone, switching on the selfie camera and recording you and him.

You hate seeing yourself. You hate what you see right in front of you—Gojo’s wide, manic grin as he oogles his long, veiny cock disappearing into your dripping cunt and your face. Your fucking face is what’s humiliating. Your complexion is reddened; your face and neck is coated in sweat. You appear limp and completely out of it—like you’ve given up though that can’t be further from the truth. You have to sell the naive damsel role because that’s what they both like, making them think they have full power over you but someday soon you’re going to stick both your fucking middle fingers at them when you’re riding off into sunset toward sweet freedom.

He stops the short recording and sets his phone aside; his tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth as he fucks deeper inside of you, groaning as your walls clench and flutter around his length.

“You’re killing me, Satoru,” Geto laments, frowning as he palms himself through his slacks before finally pulling himself out. “Hurry before I stick my cock inside with yours.”

Your eyes widen at that in sheer horror as your head turns to Geto’s direction. His expression makes your heart sink; he’s not interested in sparing you a little dignity and really plans on bullying his cock alongside Gojo’s because he’s growing impatient.

“No no no, please, Sugu… I can’t!” you shout, shaking your head frantically as tears well in the corners of your eyes.

Geto’s frown deepens, his forehead wrinkling as he caresses your cheek with his knuckles.

“You can take it, my love,” he coos as he fists his cock into full hardness. You bite back a choked sob.

“No, no, Suguru…please it’ll be too much..!”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you protest but Geto disregards everything you say as he wraps his cock.

“Damn, Suguru,” Gojo cackles, “Can’t let it wait, huh?”

“Shut up,” he hisses as he pushes the tip of his cock into your pussy, and Gojo moans feeling Geto’s dick rub against his. The stretch absolutely fucking hurts and you weep, babbling endlessly and begging him not to go further but he doesn’t listen to you this time. Maybe he’s getting tired of being kind to you.

He manages to fit a good portion of his size inside and you’re sobbing so hard, your body is on fire and not in a pleasant way. They fill you up and stretch you out and they’re cackling together like the psychopaths they are.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Gojo growls, kissing the top of your head as he spears his cock into you with deadly precision. “Fuck fuck fuck you’re so much tighter. ‘M gonna come.”

And he follows through on his word, fucking into you with one last hard thrust before he gives you a little mercy and slides his cock out so Geto can have his way with you.

Gojo trails kisses all over your tear-strained face and ignores your continued weeping and begging to stop.

“Shhhh, we’re just getting started, Princess. We have so much making up to do before you and Suguru tie the knot, yeah? Just relax and let us take care of you. That’s all we want.”

Such fucking lies.

Geto growls as now he’s the sole cock drilling into you, and you’re stretched nice around his size. Your walls are still fluttering and squeezing around him and trying to suck him inside deeper and Geto looks down at you with a feral gaze, something you haven’t seen since the day he took you.

“Too bad I don’t have the intention of fucking a few babies into you,” he chuckles, reaching out to trace the gold chain jingling around your neck with each jerk of his hips. He tugs a bit on the chain and you avert your gaze. He frowns at that, tugging again and making you look at him. “You know I can’t afford to bring more monkeys into this world, but the idea of coming inside you is… enthralling. Perhaps we can save that for when I fuck your perfect ass.”

“Damn,” Gojo whistles, his arms circling your waist. “That’s going to be so hot. Fuck her full of cum and then have her walk around like that all day. Perfect way to ensure she belongs to you, yeah Suguru?”

“Exactly,” he laughs in response, a wicked smirk on his face. His hand comes down to smack your pussy and you scream, but Gojo secures his hold on you.

“Shhhh, Princess. Don’t squirm too much or he could hurt you. He doesn’t want to, you know?” he whispers in a mock soothing tone.

“Please, Sugu…. It already hurts,” you cry, sniffling, your eyes bloodshot and puffy from all of the tears you’ve shed.

“You can take it,” he grunts with another sharp slap on your quivering cunt. “You can do it, my love. Come for me.”

In spite of everything the world spins as you come down hard on his cock, arousal gushing out and it’s not the prettiest sight to you but it must make Geto and Gojo as gleeful as children on a Christmas morning.

“Sugu…” you murmur, body going a bit limp but you remember Gojo saying they barely begun. This is so tiring. But Geto pulls out with a soft moan, but his cock is still hard. Needing.

“What is it, my love?” he asks in that affectionate tome he’s been using so much more lately. Without the underlying condensation, just pure love, like he really believes he does love you.

As if someone who loves you would do things like this without so much as a shred of remorse. Gojo is silent behind you, sitting back and enjoying the scene unfold.

“I-I can’t,” you stammer, “Please, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he urges a bit more gently. “This is a celebration, my dear. Lean into it.”

He kneels on one knee until his mouth is level with your cunt, his eyes sparkling with need and lust.

“We just want to take care of you,” he goes on, pressing a kiss to your spent cunt. “That’s all we want.”

You shake your head again.

“Can’t,” you keep pleading, “I can’t, I can’t…”

“Sure you can, Princess,” Gojo murmurs, “You have to. It’s the least you can do. After all, Suguru’s risking a lot just to be with you.”

Huh?

“I’m risking everything just to be here too,” Gojo continues while Geto pushes his tongue into your cunt. “So do this for us, baby. Because once Suguru married you, it’ll make things easier for us to be together. You’ll understand soon, I promise.”

“B-but…”

Gojo shushes you again before silencing you completely with a heated kiss. You can’t put up much of a fight anymore, in that moment.

This will be the only time you surrender to this battle, but not the fucking war.

[awzominator]

may I offer u some low quality Rasey in these trying times

Senseless rambling under the cut don’t mind me

I’m stuck in how I want these two’s relationship to go Bc I love rasey but also I love Ramona and both are def gonna happen Bc it’s my AU and what I say goes HOWEVER…..I’m bad at writing and plotting and I’m second guessing everything I come up with snsnsnjs

as of right now Raph/Casey are dating in their teens Raph (and his bros and karai) go missing for like 2ish years and are presumed dead (rip) Casey obvi super distraught and spirals; he struggles and gets super reckless with his life and all that jazz (Bc he’s so well adjusted) anyway I took a lot of inspo from mirage plot line and brought Gabrielle into the mix. In this instead of her lover not being in the picture they just died and I wanted Casey to bond w her thru that and learn how to cope w the death of loved ones and move on even if the pain is still there My dumb of ass however, keeps getting hung up on how it’ll all work out cuz is two years too short for all this to happen???? But also it’s not real and it doesn’t really matter… Casey/Gabe relationship would still be new when Raph gets back (surprise not dead) and idk if I’d want to break them up Bc yay angst but also would Casey really just leave Raph hanging????? ((This is also if I still keep Casey in New York City and not make him have a crisis and road trip like in mirage djsjjsjs))

Raph would prob see how happy Casey is and prob like step back and let him have that relationship all while yearning for what they once had Bc the scariest part is him realizing how Casey has changed ((but so has he hasn’t he?? After everything he just went they and saw it was blink of an eye for him but it felt like a life time)) at the core they’re both the same ppl but they’re not 16/17 anymore…

So the Raph/Mona happens in their young adulthood once the gang goes to space a second time due to Kraang ((shocker))

like it could work but like….does it all sound stupid???? Probably but I It’s what I’ve got as of right now! I don’t do romantic relationships and frankly my experience of lost friendships is just Bc we grew apart and they stopped responding ((or Bc I found out they were racist and I cut them out djsjsjjs)))

[sheepwavehdg]

(art and exerpt from Cat and Mouse)

She loomed over me even while pinning me to the wall, and in my mindless panic, I made full eye contact with the hunter that had caught me. Shivers rippled over my body, and she began speaking in a melodic voice unlike any I had ever heard before.

“Such a sweet little mouse, stunned into stillness. You run and run, but you crave stillness the most, don’t you?”

I couldn't look away, couldn't stop repeating the word stillness in my head. Sparks danced everywhere on the edges of my vision. “N-no. I need to be free…”

“You want to stop. You want to be able to sink into peace, but you're trapped in your own head, running in a maze. Wouldn’t you rather find the exit, sink into stillness for me?”

My thoughts slowed to a crawl, bent into paths that led in infinite loops. I was caught in the maze. Caught running. Wanted out. Wanted to be able to stop. Couldn't stop. Couldn’t stop.

I felt myself hit a mental wall. Stop. Stop! I frowned at her and forced my eyes shut. Why was I wet? No. No! 

I did the only thing I could, and bit hard on one of the strands around her face. She dropped me in surprise, and my numb ankles buckled as soon as I tried running. She pounced on me, pouring over me like a wave of leaves and wood. A vine wrapped around my throat and I screamed.

“Stay still, little mouse. The maze has something else inside it, something you can’t escape from.”

I tried to fight against her, but every time I moved she pressed down tighter. After a moment, it was getting hard to breathe, and my body forced me to give in to her command as white oblivion began creeping at the edges of my vision. I was rewarded for my obedience by her suddenly squeezing tighter, prompting new thrashing against her that accomplished nothing.

“Good toy. Stillness suits you.”

A flower opened on her chest and sprayed a puff of some gas directly in my face, while she adjusted her grip around my airway. The animal side of my being gasped deep as she loosened up just enough for air to fill my lungs and for blood to flow again. My body, overriding logic and reason through desperate survival instincts alone, did not heed my brain’s warning that breathing in now would only make things worse. As I inhaled, every point of her contact against me became the most joyful, pleasant touch I had ever experienced.

I tried to scream out in protest, but nothing resembling coherent speech escaped me. I felt her laugh vibrate through the coils around my neck. I wanted to get out of the maze, I wanted to stop running…

She curled a pair of her limbs under my back, and began pulling me back towards her bed. My slightest attempt to resist was met with the support under my back and legs being dropped, and the message was clear. Yield, or be dragged by the neck alone. 

Tamai carried me up onto her sleeping area, and I felt her vibrating against me. It was the rattling purr of a predator, and I was her trapped prey. She pressed me onto my back, flowing over me. Her weight covered me entirely, pinning me down under her. I kept my body completely limp, letting her toy with me.

“Good little mouse. It’s better this way, to be mine.”

Her tone felt so possessive. I was beyond having any ability to fight back, all I could do was lay there under her. Some of the flowers tucked into her chest were dripping multicolor fluids like pharmaceutical drool onto my nightgown.

[pancho-pinto]

Android Ranchers AU

rancher girlies get 3 (unedited) snapshots i just wrote on a whim, no context and no lore other than they are both androids, prompted by THIS INCREDIBLE ART by @daily-tango-doodles

no warnings. everything is pretty safe (if i say so myself)

Tango glances over, and his eye twitches. The red tint overtakes his vision, the world suddenly behind a curtain of sheer red fabric. He blinks a couple of times until the other colors return, his voice box stuttering stuck still.

Just as he regains some control of his limbs, opening and closing his fists, bending and stretching his legs, admiring the mismatched plates of body, Jimmy joins him with two pouches. Jimmy wipes some spilling blue from the corners of his lips with his thumb, offering a sweet smile on top of the drink.

Jimmy sits on the other swing, turning his head to the night sky and the thousand stars. He looks perfect, in a presentation way.

Hair brushed and fair skin, ironed clothes and not a wrinkle to be found, eyes bright and warm smile. Inviting and friendly and safe.

He speaks just as nicely too, "It's easy to find you."

Tango tilts his head slightly, his eyebrows not working still it seems.

"I mean, it's all blue. The lights and everything, just—" Jimmy waves his hand, the other holding onto the pouch. He brings it to his lips to take a sip. "You're red. It's, I don't know, just makes it easier to find you. Like I can't lose you."

Tango makes the motion of a huff though his lungs and air vents only whir. The corners of his lips twitch though, all for him.

"It's whatever," Jimmy dismisses, waving it off this time. He turns his head, lips on the straw breaking into a smile when their eyes met. "Not like I can my eyes off you anyways."

Blues to a brown and a red, the sky meeting a valcanoe. Briefly, Tango sees red reflected in his eyes, and he wonders how hard Jimmy is looking at him for that to happen.

His voice box squeaks then clicks, and he clears his throat to test the sound. Somehow, Jimmy smiles even more when his voice returns.

"Hi, Jimmy."

"Hi, Tango."

there is also this ADORABLE PIECE LIKE HELLO??? CUTIES by @mellioops

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

"Hey! Tango, can you give me a hand!"

As soon as the words leave Jimmy's lips, he grimaces, regret setting in as something flies by on the edges of his vision. The clank against the wall and subsequent thud as it falls to the ground zips the barn of all sound.

Slowly, he turns his head to it, just staring at the metal arm laying there. He breaks into a smile, however, when he sees the fingers pinching a baby blue flower.

"Huh-uh! Get in here you!" He yells as he stands up, walking over to pick up the arm. He pries the flower from the fingers, carefully tucking it over his ear, the stem piercing through his hair.

Shortly after, footsteps muffle in the hay and dirt, gears and spring-locks and pumps filling the air. A quiet huff, an amused smile.

Jimmy turns and tosses the arm back to him, crossing his arms over his chest, popping his hip as Tango re-adjusts his arm back.

Tango looks at him, guilty expression on his face, and Jimmy notices the green eye today.

"Help?"

Jimmy exhales, exasperated but there is a fond smile on his lips. Grumpily, he walks over, taking the grey arm again as Tango holds up his short sleeve. He sees flour on the fake skin, a dash of cinnamon too, and some dried egg whites.

"Cooking something?" He asks as he bends down a little, trying to find the joint. He nudges him to turn so he can get better lighting.

"Trying," Tango corrects with a small laugh. "Pix is napping so I have the house to myself! And the cats, and Benny, but mostly me."

He snorts, "Don't burn my kitchen down."

With a click, Tango's arm is secured again. Tango turns and spins his elbow, rotating it to secure it before looking beside Jimmy's arm. A bicycle is leaning against a hay stack, a wheel laying on the ground and most of the parts disassembled.

"Wanna swap?" Tango asks, gesturing to the bicycle with his head.

"I'll help you inside, then you help me. That work?"

Tango smiles, then two-finger salutes him.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Jimmy stares at the manual, Tango's handwriting denting the pages. The ink is old now, the color fading and the edges of the papers are browning. The pages are crisp and fragile, and he cannot turning the pages, reading the lines over and over.

Instructions. Step by steps. Crossed out sections, new sections, everything of Tango's. Maintenance. How to keep him alive.

The pages crumple under his hand as his vents overheat, his pump so loud in his chest cavity. It rings in his ears too, the slow release of steam as he tries to figure what he did wrong.

But his eyes drift, and prying them is hard. Too hard. He stares.

Tango lays in bed unmoving, still. Too still. He did everything by the letter, he did everything as Tango had taught him, a precision ingrained in his code to save lives.

How long had it been?

His own system needs maintenance. Every part of him is working overtime, running on fumes without fuel and lubricant. He feels rigid and rusted, and he cannot stop wondering how Tango can live like this, and he cannot stop seeing the worse.

A red light turning off forever.

That cannot be.

His phone rings nearby, shattering in the silence of the room. He focuses on nothing but the occasional beeps and steady buzzing, no real way of knowing the circuit is actually connected until Tango gives a sign. A reaction. Something.

Just as he resigns himself to look for his phone and answer Pixl, a spark flies and Tango jolts. He flops back on the bed, exhaling fumes.

In a blink, Jimmy is by his side, taking his hand, trembling though he is not sure if he is worried or playing with his own life.

"Hey rancher," Tango manages to whisper with a weak smile.

"You'll be okay," Jimmy replies instantly, squeezing his hand. He drops to his knees, taking his hand with both hands now. He presses Tango's hand to his forehead, eyes screwed shut as his words come out strained, "I did everything you taught me. You'll be okay, you hear? Pixl will fix you soon, just hang in there. Hang in there, Tango, okay? Just a little longer."

Weakly, Tango squeezes his hands back, pushing against his forehead with all the strength he can manage. "Thanks, Jimmy."

[leos-regression-cove]

Merry Christmas @ittybittythunder! Here's a fem Little Thor!

Traced from this picture

[kiwidotcom]

ヽ（≧□≦）ノ

[dudeshusband]

i'd love to get up just a bit earlier to make rick breakfast and coffee then prepare us both a little lunch if we're working so we can take it with us