#but I love the way X looks on the first frame

[starsinthesky5]

make me juno* || joe burrow x reader

description: he loves you right and he wants your touch for life too. you realize one of you is cute, but two though? you just might let him make you juno ;)

a/n: surprise! felt the urge to write this so here we are. ALSO, I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE I SAW JUNO PREFORMED LIVE. LIKE BITCH. I CANT. 

i hope this doesn’t suck lol. i’ve been in a slump lately and i feel so bad for keeping everyone waiting like this ;(

warnings: SMUT. it’s alot. ALOT. & language. MDNI

word count: 16.1 k

taglist (comment and ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeys-babe @joeyb1989 @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid @lovelyburrow @majestic87

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“God, he looks so hot when he gets out of the shower,” you murmured under your breath, feeling a rush of heat rise from your toes to your head. “If he just grabbed me by the hips and threw me underneath him, pressed that mouth against my ear…put that hand on my stomach, holding me in place like I’m his entire world…oh god I would–…,” you daydreamed. Your breath hitched at the thought and your eyes screwed shut from the images you were seeing, it was almost too much, the way just the sight of him could set your mind and body on fire. 

And then you heard his voice, soft and teasing. “You okay over there?” he asked you because of how quiet you had been since he came out of the bathroom.  

You opened them a few seconds later, your cheeks red because you thought he caught you red-handed but when you glanced over at the cause of your friskiness–your husband–he was innocently sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to you. His damp hair curled slightly at the ends and a few stray water droplets clung to his golden skin as he squeezed out the final dab of his favorite lotion–cucumber scented, something you put him on–and began massaging it into his collarbone. He looked so relaxed and at peace, but your mind was far from the leisurely place he was likely in. You bit your lip, debating whether or not to share the idea that had been swirling in your head all evening since he came home from practice. 

When he first walked in with that Bengals beanie on his head, those gray sweats hanging low around his waist, and that adorable baby pink Nike sweatshirt clinging to his frame, you nearly fainted. How could he look so adorable yet so sexy at the same time? Like he was one second away from holding a little baby in his arms or one second away from putting a baby inside of you. 

You were already teetering on the edge, your hormones wreaking havoc inside you after he left you high and dry this morning, so his post-practice look made it much worse. He’d skipped out on a quick, pre-practice rendezvous, leaving your needs painfully unmet. What started as a soft, gentle good morning kiss quickly shifted to a sloppy, breathless makeout session, his hands pulled you closer as you begged for his touch–or anything–to bring relief to the ache in between your thighs. But his multiple alarms had other plans. 

So as he made his swift exit, you were left to fend for yourself. There were several things you could have done while he was away to experience that delicious ecstasy coursing through your veins. However, you rarely took matters into your own hands because you didn’t want to take away Joe’s right to see you reach that blissful state—the one he was responsible for inducing for the rest of his life ever since he slipped that beautiful diamond ring onto your finger. He prided himself when it came to bringing you to that heavenly place, so you never wanted to strip him of his right. It was the way he carefully watched your every reaction to know what you liked and didn’t like, his focus persistent, as if your pleasure was his biggest accomplishment. It was his right, his privilege, to unravel you in that way. 

So, you did your best to push those heated thoughts to the back of your mind, even if they lingered long enough to leave you flustered for the rest of the day. And it felt like every little thing was working against you; the graze of your clothing against your skin, the way your mind would wander back to the last time his hands were on you, and even the painfully innocent texts from him that asked how your day was going. 

You were so fucking horny and there was nothing you could do about it. 

And then when you saw him once he came home from practice, those hormones went into overdrive fast. It’s as if every sense was heightened. Every time his fingers would graze over your clothed shoulder, you felt like ripping your clothes off. Whenever his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than usual, you felt like pouncing onto him. Every time he curled up on the couch to work on the pac-man arcade Lego set you bought him, you daydreamed about him building a Lego set with his little one, his child, your baby…one day.  

Those daydreams had become quite frequent, to be honest.

You and Joe had been married for a little over a year now, and married life was everything you had dreamed of. Maybe even more. It still felt as though you two were dating because the spark between you hadn’t dulled; it only deepened. Everything about your life as husband and wife felt easy, natural, and light, almost as if you two were perfectly in sync. 

Your home became a safe space filled with reminders of your love; framed photos from your honeymoon lining the walls, the scent of his cologne lingering on all your clothes and blankets, and a daily habit of finding tiny notes he left for you in the most random places. It was like living in your own little bubble of love, unbothered by the chaos of the outside world. Those evenings when you’d lounge together on the couch, his arm draped protectively over your shoulder as you watched the latest episode of some trashy reality TV show, were your favorites. Those nights when you’d cook together, teasing each other about who was better at chopping the vegetables, which would eventually turn into a food fight because neither of you would admit defeat, was maximum domestic bliss for you. And other nights, when you’d order takeout and slow dance in the kitchen, barefoot and carefree to “Enchanted” by Taylor Swift, reassured you that you made the right choice by saying yes to spending forever with your favorite person in the entire world. 

Everything was perfect with just the two of you, yet in those quiet moments when you caught Joe’s soft gaze lingering on a family, or the way he playfully messed up your nephew’s hair, or like earlier, when he’d come home looking like he was coming home to his wife and baby, you couldn’t help but wonder what life would look like if it was the three of you. 

The thought came unprovoked sometimes, like when you’d be in the grocery store, lost in thought imagining the faint pitter-patter of tiny feet across the hardwood floors because you walked past the baby clothes, or picturing Joe cradling a baby in his strong arms because you saw his teammates doing so with their families. You wondered what it would be like to have your own little one–a perfect blend of the two of you.

There was no rush, of course. Life with Joe felt full and beautiful just the way it was–just the two of you and football, a rhythm you’d fallen into easily and had been dancing to since LSU. But lately, the thoughts of Joe talking to your baby bump had become more common and it made your heart ache in the best way. You could almost imagine waking up in the morning to his cheek pressed against your belly, whispering promises to his little tiger who was growing inside of you. It felt so vivid, so real, that it left you breathless. 

You had talked about wanting kids together before you got engaged and you two were on the same page about all of it, like you were about everything else in your relationship. But the one thing you had never talked about was when. 

The idea of Joe as a father made you want to kick your feet back and forth like a little girl; the image, the idea of it, was absolutely adorable and tooth-rottingly sweet. You wanted to see his hands, the ones that clung to you, cradling a tiny bundle of joy that you both created through your love for one another. You wanted to hear his adorable little laugh as he played peekaboo or watch his face light up the face time your baby wrapped their little fingers around his. 

You knew it wasn’t about if, only when. You wanted it, him, and everything that future could hold so badly that it made you ache in ways you couldn’t even put into words. He was your home, your safe place, your everything. Joe had this way of filling every corner of your heart, making you feel so cherished and complete, and the thought of sharing that love with your child was overwhelming in the most beautiful way. You adored him more than you thought it was possible to adore anyone. You had no doubt he’d make the best father and the way he cared for you, for the people he loved, was proof enough. 

You needed this with him. God, you’d do anything to have it with him.

“...Joe?” you finally said, snapping out of your thoughts.

He turned around slightly to look at you, placing the bottle of lotion to the side and raising an eyebrow, “Yeah?”. 

You felt a wave of nervousness come over you, but you were already too lost in those thoughts to go back. “Here goes nothing,” you thought as you flipped onto your back, your head leaning against the bed frame as you held your phone close to your chest, “...H- Have you ever thought about…spicing things up a little?” you asked, your voice so faint and gentle, almost trying to sound innocent. 

Joe tilted his head in confusion, “Spicing things…up?” he echoed. “What do you mean?” he added with a small chuckle. 

You felt your heartbeat increase, your breathing deepening, and your palms becoming sweatier by the second. You sat up, still clutching your phone, “Like new…positions? I- I was doing some late-night research,” you said, trying to remain casual but you couldn’t help but wince at the burning sensation in your cheeks.

Joe’s lips shifted into a smirk as he turned to face you fully, his gray sweatpants hanging loosely around his waist and his bare chest basically an open invitation for you to mark him up. “Late-night research, huh? Even late at night, you’re thinking 'bout me?” he wiggled his eyebrows and said. “What exactly did you find?” he chuckled. 

You quickly unlocked your phone and pulled up the image you had saved earlier–a diagram of a particularly intricate position that had you on edge for the past few hours because of the mental image it gave you. “Have you ever tried, this one?” you asked, holding your phone out to him. 

Joe’s eyebrows shot up as he studied the screen, “Wowwww,” he said, dragging it out with a giggle. “This looks… ambitious,”.

You broke out into a laugh, sitting up on your knees and moving closer to him, “You mean to tell me, Mr. Quarterback doesn’t think he can handle it?” you teased. 

His eyes snapped up to yours, a playful yet challenging sparkle in them, “Oh, I can handle it,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “But can you?”.

You eyed him up and down for a second, feeling the heat in your belly grow with each glance at the little happy trail below his belly button which led to what you were craving. “Don’t underestimate your wife, Burrow. She’s got moves,” you said, running your hand up his muscular chest, your ruby-red nails leaving light scratches as you inched toward his neck. 

“Oh, does she now?” he smiled, moving closer to you. 

“Yes, she does. Maybe you should let her show you?” you whispered, moving closer to him, your lips planting a few light kisses along his jaw to finish your sentence. 

Joe pulled back, meeting your tell-tale eyes to see if you were serious, and the unwavering fire behind them told him you were. He grabbed your phone from your hand, setting it down on the nightstand, his grin widening, “Alright, challenge accepted. But don’t get mad if this turns into an Olympic-level workout,”. 

“Gotta go for the gold, baby,” you winked. “We’re too skilled to back down,”. 

— 

A little later, the two of you were naked and sprawled across the bed, Joe holding the phone up for reference as you tried to untangle yourselves from the failed first attempt at the intimate position. “Wait,” he said, squinting at the screen. “Is your leg supposed to go over my shoulder or–,”. 

“Your leg!” you cut him off, giggling as you pointed to the diagram. “It’s definitely your leg! But wait, I think we have it all wrong because no leg needs to go over a shoulder. Is the photo upside down?”. You were even unsure of it yourself, you never really switched it up like this in the bedroom so this was equally as hilarious as intimidating. 

Joe groaned as he dropped his head, then flopped onto his back dramatically, “This is starting to feel like a TikTok challenge, babe. Sex should not be this difficult,”. 

You grabbed the pillow from underneath your head and whacked him with it as giggles fell from your lips, “You’re the one who said you could handle it!”. 

He caught the pillow, tossing it to the side as he rolled back toward you, “I know, but whoever made these positions clearly is against getting laid because half the time would get wasted just figuring out whose leg goes where. Maybe we should just stick to what we do best? That always works best for us and things…things are already super spicy whenever you end up underneath me, why try to change it?” he winked as his smile softened. 

“You’re probably right. I don’t feel like being more sore than usual for no reason and that looks like something that’d make me pull a leg muscle or two,” you laughed. 

“You still up for it? Or did you just want to do something different tonight and you’re over it now,” he asked, pushing a few strands of your hair behind your ear. He didn’t want to push you into doing something if you weren’t feeling it anymore, he only cared about your pleasure and he was worried that not being able to figure this out would put a dent in your high. 

“Oh, yes,” you groaned, waving away his worries. “I’ve been about 5 seconds away from letting go ever since you left me high and dry this morning,” the words falling out of your mouth instantly with no shame or hesitation. 

Joe’s face dropped slightly, “Sorry about that,”. He really did feel bad for leaving you this morning, but he knew better than to be late to today’s practice. The day before, you woke up similarly, except Joe’s head was stuffed in between your thighs for ten minutes before he held you on top of him for another twenty. The extra thirty minutes in bed–although blissful and oh-so-delicious–caused him to be the last one in the facility and the last one to get to the morning meeting, and everyone was on his ass about it. Especially, because of that pretty golden tattoo you left on his neck that he forgot to cover up. 

“Damn, Joe. Ever since you got married it’s like you became even more pussy whipped than you were before,” Ja’marr teased. 

“God Damn, Joe. Give Y/N a break before she starts sleeping in the guestroom. She’s probably tired of your ass,” Tee laughed, earning a chuckle from Ja’marr. 

“Listen, son. I know being young and in love and newly married is…uh…exciting and…*cough*...thrilling..but you have a job and as the team leader, it doesn’t look good to walk in here with your shirt on backward and those marks on your neck. Bad example for the guys,” Zac awkwardly whispered to him. 

“Ah,” you interjected, pushing a finger to his pink, plump lips. “I’m not mad. I’m just so fucking horny and the way you looked when you came home plus the way you looked after your shower made it worse,”. 

He wishes he could show this to them right now. It would be the perfect, “Loserrrrr” moment for him to tease his guys about. You would and could never get tired of him, or this. 

He raised an eyebrow at your cheeky confession, “Really?”. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “I don’t care how we do it, I just want you,” you said softly, your hand shifting into his hair as you pushed him closer to you, close enough to press your lips against his. 

Joe melted into your lips the moment they collided, his hands naturally found your hips, gripping them firmly, pulling you to him as if he couldn’t bear to let go. In one swift motion, his body shifted and he was on top of you again. His movements were unhurried but filled with a desperate kind of tenderness that made your heart race. He wanted you just as badly, if not more. Ever since he slid that gorgeous ring onto your finger, something in him shifted. Joe had always been obsessed with you, but now? Now, it was like he literally couldn’t function without you. Just one glance at your face, whether you were freshly awake with a bedhead or dressed up for a night out, his composure would crumble. You’d catch him staring at you every so often, his eyes dark and filled with lust, and before you knew it, you were pushed against the closest surface and his name was falling from your lips over and over. 

It didn’t take much to push him over the edge, the mere sound of your laugh and the curve of your smile were enough to drive him crazy. Joe might have been many things, but with you? He was a man utterly and unapologetically consumed by love, and by you. 

“Just hold me and explore me, baby. Stick to what you do best, that’s more than enough,” you murmured between kisses, your voice soft and laced with affection. His lips stilled for a second as he absorbed your words, and when his eyes met yours, they were filled with a familiar promise of love and devotion. Without breaking the kiss, his hand reached back for the white sheets, tugging them over the two of you. 

You felt his thick erection slide against your slick folds, each slip and slide sending a flutter throughout your belly, the sensation prompting you to pull away. “Please,” you hissed, “I need it,”. 

“I know, baby,” he chuckled, pushing your lips back to his as he pressed you further back into the cloud-like bed. “You’re so wet…wonder what got you like this,”. 

“You,” you whimpered, feeling his lips slide along your jawline, then to that spot on your neck that he loved, and then anywhere they could go to hear your pretty, soft, open-mouthed moans. “J- Joe,” you whispered, feeling him position his cock right at your entrance while he suckled on the spot below your ear.

“Hold on for me,” he groaned, then pushed into your warm, dripping core in one strong movement. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion. Your hands instinctively found their way to his back, fingers digging into his taut muscles as you clung to him with everything you had.

His body moved against yours with a fast, frantic need, every thrust igniting a fire that burned hotter with each second. His rhythm was raw and relentless as if he couldn’t bear to have an inch of space between you. The sound of your bodies moving together, skin against skin, became a beautiful, intimate soundtrack as he pushed into you with a force that stole your breath. The way his eyes were glued to yours and how his arms caged you in, creating a safe yet electrifying cocoon, was another thing that you loved about him. He focused all of his attention on you at all times, it felt like you were the only thing in his world.

“Tell me I’m the only one, baby,” you whimpered, your voice cracking as his cock grazed that perfect, sensitive spot inside you with every snap of his hips.  

His breath was hot and rough against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Oh, fuck, baby…fuck, yeah…you’re the only one,” he moaned, his voice low and strained with pleasure. “The. only. one. who. has. me. like. this.” his words were punctuated by the unwavering rhythm of his thrusts, each one powerful and deliberate, driving you closer and closer to the edge.  

“Just like that, baby,” you whimpered. The way your walls clenched around him made his head fall to your shoulder, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deeper. “So good for me, angel,” he groaned, his voice turning into a low growl as he thrusted harder, his movements exact yet full of raw desperation. Every push and pull of his body against yours sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, your senses completely overwhelmed by him.  

Another moan escaped your lips, louder this time, as his pace quickened. “Oh, oh…oh, fuck, Joey. I can’t…,” you cried out, your nails digging into his back, your entire body trembling beneath him.  

“Yes, you can,” he rasped, his hand sliding down your body and gripping your thigh, pulling it higher around his waist to angle you even closer to him. The shift made his cock hit even deeper, and your cry of pleasure turned into a near scream as he drove into you relentlessly, chasing both of your releases. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he gritted out, his forehead pressed against yours as his hips snapped against you with a rhythm that left no room to think–only to feel. “You’re mine, angel. All mine,”. 

The way he claimed you, the way he adored you, held you, and explored you, the way his body pressed against yours so completely, was intoxicating. The sound of his deep groans, the slap of your bodies meeting, and the way his hand slid up your waist to cup your face was too much, and yet, not enough. “I’m so close, baby,” you whimpered, your legs shaking as you clung to him, overwhelmed by the mere passion in his voice.  

“Let go for me,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours as his thrusts became harder, deeper, his movements rough yet perfectly attuned to your body. “I’ve got you, angel. Let go. I’m right here,”.  

And with one final thrust, his body pressed against yours, the band in your belly shattered, your cries of pleasure filling the room as waves of satisfaction crashed over you. “Joe…oh my god! Joe!” you moaned, panting as the aftermath of your high vibrated throughout your body. “You feel…you feel so- so good, fuck. Joe,”.

Joe’s pace quickened, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his release, his groans getting louder and more uneven in your ear. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten, his body tensing against yours. “Baby, fuck, I’m so close,” he groaned, his voice strained with need. But then, his hips faltered for just a moment as the realization hit him. “Shit…I forgot the condom,” he muttered breathlessly, his thrusts slowing slightly. “I’ll pull out, I swear–,”. 

His words barely registered in your brain as they were drowned out by the heat building inside you and the idea that suddenly sparked in your mind. Your heart raced, but not from nerves–it was something else. A lightbulb moment. This could be the start of what you’d been wanting, what you’d been dreaming of for so long. This could be a way to have that conversation with him later…maybe even act on it before talking about it… 

“No,” you murmured, your voice trembling but stable enough to catch his attention. “Don’t pull out, Joe. It’s okay,”.

Joe rarely ever came inside of you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was more so that back then, having a kid in college or while he was trying to make a name for himself in the NFL wasn’t exactly ideal. You both had sex like this a lot, raw and with no barriers, but he found other spots to push out his release other than being inside of you. So right now, when you said that you wanted him to come inside of you, he was slightly confused. 

His eyes widened, his movements stuttering as he processed what you said. “Baby…you’re not on anything,” he said hesitantly, his forehead pressing against yours. There was a twinge of uncertainty in his voice, even though his body was trembling with need, his will hanging by a thread. “Are you sure?”.

You nodded, your hands sliding up his back to hold him closer, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “It’s okay, Joey,”.

Maybe he would take the hint? That you weren’t just saying this because you were too caught up in the lust to think straight, but that you actually wanted this…wanted more than this.  

His breathing hitched, and for a moment, he looked as though he was going to argue. But the way you gazed up at him, your words full of love and comfort, completely untangled him. His hesitation melted away, replaced by an overwhelming desire and trust. “Fuck,” he groaned, his hips snapping back into rhythm, harder and more desperate this time. “You’re gonna kill me, baby…fuck, I can’t hold it,” he growled, his thrusts turning frantic as he buried himself deeper, chasing his release.  

You moaned loudly, the intensity of his movements sending you spiraling into pleasure once again. The thought of him spilling into you, of this moment potentially being the start of something new, pushed you over the edge. “Do it, Joey,” you urged breathlessly. “I want you to. Please. Give it to me, baby.”  

With a choked groan, he finally let go, his body tensing as he gave in. “Oh, fuck,” he growled, his hips jerking erratically as he came inside you, his release hot and overwhelming as he pressed himself as deeply as he could, holding you tightly as he rode out his climax. His breaths were shaky as he came down, his head dropping to your shoulder. “Shit, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and full of disbelief. “I can’t believe we just…,”. 

You smiled, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “It’s okay,” you whispered, your tone soft and reassuring. “I’m okay. You’re okay,”.

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours for any doubt, but all he found was love and certainty. Slowly, a smile broke through his post-climax fog, and he leaned in to kiss you tenderly. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmured against your lips.  

“No, you are,” you smiled, leaning back in and dropping two kisses on his lips. 

—

A little later, the two of you lay tangled together under the sheets. You both were a little too wrung out to do anything else, so you decided to stay like this. His hand slid up and down your side, his touch as usual, soft and comforting, but your mind was moving at the speed of light. 

He hadn’t said a word.

You kind of expect him to bring it up, maybe even tease you about the heat of the moment, or tell you how he felt about it. Instead, he seemed so relaxed and at peace, especially with how his head was resting in the crook of your neck as if nothing unusual happened. 

You felt the urge to say something, but how? You couldn’t just blurt it out, “That might get me pregnant and I want that, but do you want that?”. So, you decided to test the waters. 

“That was… intense,” you mumbled, your voice laced with coolness as your fingers traced shapes on his bare back.

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, pressing a wet, lazy kiss to your shoulder. “You drive me fucking crazy, Y/N,”.

“I love him. God, I love him,” you thought to yourself, but your mind was still stuck on it. “I mean…we don’t usually…,” you trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint.

“We don’t usually what?” he asked while propping himself on his elbow to look at you, his tone giving away that he really was clueless. 

Your cheeks felt like they turned red again as you hesitated to answer his question. You took a deep breath, “You know, we usually never…skip the condom,” you said, your voice soft as you searched his face for a reaction.

Joe blinked, and for a second you saw a spark behind his eyes, but then it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He shrugged slightly, “I guess we got caught up in the moment, huh?” he said casually, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You bit your lip, trying to hide your disappointment. He wasn’t getting it. Either that, or he wasn’t ready to go there, and you definitely did not want to push. Maybe now wasn’t the right time to bring it up?

“Yeah,” you murmured, forcing a smile as you ran your fingers through his messy hair. “Caught up in a moment,”. 

He dropped another kiss on your lips and mumbled an ‘i love you’ before settling back beside you, his arm draping over your waist as his eyes fluttered shut. You stared up at the ceiling, your mind swirling with a million thoughts. “Maybe I should let it go for tonight. He must be tired,” you thought, letting out a breath as you relaxed against him. 

But as you lay there, another idea formed. If your adorably clueless husband isn’t going to bring it up, maybe you’d start dropping hints–little comments here and there, planting the seed in his mind like he did inside of you. He was the smartest person you knew, but when it came to subtlety, he sometimes needed to help. 

You smiled to yourself, already thinking of ideas on how to ease the idea into his mind. But for now, you let it go and allowed his steady breathing to soothe you to sleep. 

A few days later – Bengals Bye Week Day 1

The living room was calm, the soft light of the TV cast a gentle glow over the room as the quiet pitter-patter of the rain added to the comforting ambiance. Joe was sitting next to you on the couch, one of his arms lazily resting around your shoulder as your legs were stretched out in front of him. You were as usual, curled up next to him, the large hoodie you stole from his closet hiding most of your body as a fluffy Bengals blanket covered you both to protect you from the cool winter air. Your eyes fell to the coffee table in front of you, half-empty pizza boxes and freshly popped popcorn scattered across the surface, a reminder of the cozy night you two were having today during night one of the Bengal’s Bye-Week. 

The movie on the TV was a cheesy rom-com, clearly your choice since your husband would’ve picked and preferred some action movie that you would’ve been too lazy to focus on. Rom-coms were perfect for cozy nights because you didn’t really need to put all of your focus on what was happening. However, this time, you were glued to the screen. There was a little family moment playing right now–a dad chasing his toddler around the living room and swooping them into their arms as their laughter filled the room. It was a classic scene that had been done a million times before in the movies, but this time, something about it made your heart swell with a familiar ache. 

You shifted slightly, reaching to the side table to grab your water glass to take a small sip, the dad’s laughter in the movie echoing through the room, and without thinking twice, you blurted, “You’d make a hot dad, you know that?”. 

Your cheeks instantly heated up, “Oh, shit,” you quickly thought after you said that. “Where the hell did that come from? I thought I was easing him into this…talk about subtle”. 

Joe, who had been scrolling through his camera roll for a few minutes to find a photo of a pair of shoes he wanted to show you, froze mid-swipe, his eyes darting to you and then to the TV screen. “W- what?” he sputtered, confused and dazed like a deer in headlights by what you had just said.

“Play it cool, Y/N. You said it, no going back now,”. You took a sip of the cool beverage, then laughed, “You good there, Burrow?” you teased, watching as his cheeks turned a shade of red you knew he didn’t like to admit. He always has that adorable blush on his face when you say something about his physique. He knew he was gifted in the looks department, but he was never one to say it out loud himself. Another reason for this blush was what you said after that.

The word dad. 

“What did you just say?” he muttered, a playful twinkle in his eyes as the redness spread to his ears, not being able to believe what you just said. 

You grinned, “I said, you’d make a hot dad. I mean, look at you. You’re already so good with kids and I bet you’d be the one to carry one around in a baby carrier, all rugged and sexy,”. 

Joe’s brows furrowed as a smile threatened to tug at the corner of his lips. He leaned back against the couch, returning to the position he was in before, “You’re insane,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he laughed at your “joke”. 

“Please,” you raised an eyebrow and said, “You’ve got major ‘dad energy��,”. 

“Dad energy?” he snorted, the crinkles around his baby blues at full display, “I can’t believe you just said that,”. His hand traveled to your thigh underneath the cozy blanket, giving it a gentle squeeze that matched the tone of his voice despite the fact he was brushing off what you were saying as if it was a silly joke–which it wasn’t.

“Um, why not?” you asked innocently. “It’s a compliment, babe. You’d be the guy, the one who’s always there for his family. The fun, loving dad who’d give anything to make sure his kid knows they’re loved. That’s so hot,”.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds while his gaze lingered on you, the mood shifted as if he was processing something. “You really think that?” he asked, his voice quieter, the playful teasing gone. 

You nodded, “I do. You have this…calm about you, you know? Like your life is so chaotic but no matter what, you make room for those little moments, the ones that matter most. You hardly get overwhelmed and manage to give everything your 110%,”.

There was a longer pause this time, the only sound in the room being the faint background noise of the movie. Finally, he let out a soft exhale, his eyes moving down to your lips for a moment before moving back to yours. “You’re making me blush,” he said, almost a little shyly. 

“Good,” you teased, leaning in just enough so your noses brushed, “I’m not done yet,”.

Joe raised an eyebrow at your answer, “What, you going to tell me I look like I’d be good at changing diapers next?”.

You laughed, the nature of the conversation was serious but the little jokes and playfulness added a lighter touch to it. You leaned in a little closer so that your lips were just an inch from his, “You kidding?” you whispered, “I think you’d be amazing at everything, Joey. Not just dad stuff. Everything,”.

Joe’s breath hitched, and before he could say something, you kissed him softly, just enough to make your point clear. When you pulled back, his hands moved to the back of your neck to pull you back in, this time with more urgency. “Alright,” he mumbled against your lips. “You’ve got me now but don’t go giving me too many ideas, or I might start thinking you’re serious about this,”. 

You grinned, feeling the heat between you both rise, particularly in your belly. “Who says I’m not serious?” you thought as you pushed your lips against his again. 

Two days later - Bengals Thanksgiving Dinner 

The air buzzed with energy as the dinner unfolded in full swing, laughter and chatter filling the room. Families mingled with players, and the mood was warm and festive. You had so much to be thankful for, but the thing you were most thankful for was the man beside you who hadn’t left your side since you got here. 

Joe was his usual charming self, offering warm smiles and handshakes to everyone who approached. He was the star of the show as usual, but even in a crowded room, he had a way of making you feel like the only person in his world. 

Joe loved you right. 

Even when his life demanded so much from him, he never let you feel like you were anything less than his top priority. Whether he was drowning in the chaos of the football season or navigating the plethora of public appearances, he had a way of grounding you, making sure you knew you were the center of his galaxy.

He always paid attention, even when you thought he wasn’t. If his eyes were glued to game film, he’d still reach over and rest a hand on your leg, his thumb would be rubbing little circles as if he was saying ‘I’m here with you’. If he was caught up in a conversation, he’d make sure to check in with you through a quick glance or a wink, a silent acknowledgment that he was thinking of you. 

Joe didn’t just love you; he made loving you feel like the easiest thing in the world.

If you were tired, he’d insist on carrying you to bed, no matter how much you resisted. If you were upset, he wouldn’t rest until he made you laugh again. And even on days he had nothing left to give, he’d still find a way to make you feel seen–a quick kiss on your forehead, a few ‘i love you’s’, or the way he’d hold you just a little tighter at night.

“You’re my everything,” he’d tell you, his voice steady and sure like it was the most obvious truth in the world. And you believed him. Because Joe had a way of showing his love in the little things, the quiet gestures that spoke louder than words ever could.

And tonight was another example. He was the center of attention and had everyone approaching him for conversations, oftentimes overlooking you. But he made sure to rope you into the conversation each time, to hold you by your hip and keep you against his chest, and to constantly keep his attention on you whenever he had a free moment. 

Currently, you stood close to Joe as usual, your fingers loosely entwined with his as you both sipped on your drinks and soaked in the atmosphere. Not far from where you were, Evan McPherson sat on a plush couch, bouncing his baby girl on his knee. Merritt was all smiley and giggly, her tiny fists pumping in excitement as she watched the world around her. 

“Having fun?” Joe murmured, leaning closer so only you could hear.

You turned to him with a soft smile, “I am,” you smiled, your gaze lingering on his baby blues. “What about you?”.

His lips curved into a familiar, boyish grin that made your heart flutter every time. “When I’m with you? Always,” he said simply, though his sincerity shone through every word.

Before you could respond, your attention moved to Merritt when Evan leaned down, letting her waddle on her tiny, unstable feet toward Joe. “Looks like another girl has eyes for you, Joey,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with a grin.

Joe laughed softly, setting his drink on the table as he crouched down to meet her at eye level. “Hey there, little lady,” he said gently, his voice soft in a way that melted your heart instantly. He reached out a hand, and instantly, her tiny fingers latched onto his index finger, gripping it tightly like it was the most important thing in the world. 

Your eyes lit up with a kind of sparkle that said a thousand words, and your heart swelled with warmth at the sigh of Joe, utterly fascinated by the innocent gesture. “Wow, she’s got quite the grip,” Joe said, his eyes twinkling as he gave her hand a little shake, earning a blubbering laugh from the little baby. “She been spending time in the receiver room?” he joked. 

Evan laughed, “Ja’marr better watch out,”. 

You crouched down to where Joe was, leaning closer so that your words were just for him, “Look,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “She knows you’ve got dad vibes,”. 

Hello, hint number two.

Joe turned to you, both eyebrows raised in surprise as a blush crept up on his face, “Dad vibes?” he asked. 

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, your eyes darting between him and the baby still clutching his finger. “She can sense it. It’s a thing, you know,” you nodded, trying to sound credible so that another hint would be dropped. 

Joe chuckled, shaking his head but not pulling his hand from Merritts. “You’re something else, you know that?” he said, his eyes filled with a kind of soft love that you’d never seen before. 

Was this the look he’d have in his eyes when his own baby would be holding his finger like that?

“Oh my god. Please. PLEASE,” you thought to yourself, feeling an overwhelming amount of fluffy thoughts fill your mind. Would his baby cling to his finger like that while they walked? Would his baby laugh like that at his adorable faces and jokes? Would his baby look at their daddy with that same look of love?

You were so far gone thinking about Joe and your future baby that you didn’t even realize that you were mumbling lyrics to the song you’d heard earlier on the drive over to the event. “You make me wanna make you fall in love…,”. 

It was exactly how you felt watching Joe. He made you want everything–a family, a future, a life filled with moments like these. 

Joe glanced over at you, catching the dreamy look in your eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, his voice quiet and curious.

“Hmm?” you blinked, realizing you’d been caught humming.

“You were singing something,” he said, his lips shifting into that little half-smile that always made your knees weak.

You hesitated for a second, then shrugged, your voice was soft and a little shy, “It’s just a song. Made me think of you,”.

His smile widened as he leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’ve got that look again,” he murmured.

“What look?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as he smirked.

“The one where you’re plotting something,” he teased. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”.

You shook your head, holding back a grin. “Nothing,” you said, your voice light but your heart full. “Anyway, I know what I’m talking about,” you teased, giving him a cheeky grin. “She can feel the vibes,”.

His attention shifted back to Merritt, who had started babbling as if she was trying to have a full-blown conversation with him. And Joe being the sweetheart he is, started playing along by nodding and murmuring things that made her giggle even harder. Watching him like this, so natural and soft, made you want to scream. The image of him holding your baby like this flickered in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had the same image and feeling tugged at his heart. 

After conversing with Joe, Merritt was eventually scooped up by Evan, and she whined in protest as her grip on Joe’s finger was forced loose. “Sorry, bud. Looks like you’ve got competition,” Joe joked, earning another giggle from Merritt. 

“She’ll stop when I bribe her with a slice of the pumpkin pie that Y/N brought,” Evan smiled, glancing back as he heard Gracie call out for him. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. Husband duties call,” he waved before walking back to his wife. 

Joe straightened up, brushing off his knees as he turned back to you, “Dad vibes, huh?” he said again, this time with a little smirk. 

You shrugged, trying to keep it cool despite the butterflies in your belly. “Just saying. She didn’t grab my finger like that,”. 

Joe laughed, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulled you closer. “Guess I’ve got the magic touch,” he teased, a softness in his voice but there was also a flicker of something unspoken lingering between you. 

Maybe, just maybe…the seeds had started to plant in his mind.

The next night - Home

You both lay intertwined in the afterglow of your highs, his body pressed close against yours as you watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. You both were still trying to catch your breath, a comfortable silence developing between you. You turned your head up to look at him, your lips morphing into a teasing smile as you traced a finger along his chest. “Mm, I like the way you fit,” you lazily murmured the sexual innuendo, your voice soft and teasing as you slid your fingers down his chest. 

Joe raised an eyebrow, intrigued by what you were talking about. “Fit, huh?” he chuckled, his lips curling into a smirk. “I could say the same about you, babe. You were made for me,”. 

You shrugged, a sly grin tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned in to kiss him. “I mean, it’s not like I have to tell your hot ass a thing,” you said between kisses, “Yeah, you just get it,” you nodded. 

Joe’s eyes darkened with a familiar hunger, the kind that always seemed to fire up when you whispered little things like that. “Get what?” he asked, his voice hoarse and scratchy from the countless times he groaned and moaned your name just a few minutes ago. 

You trailed your hand over his body, your touch slow, purposeful, as you let the words fall from your lips. “The whole package, babe,” you smirked, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so hot and you know it and you have the full package–the brains, the looks, the athletic ability, the sweetness. Damn, I like the way you fit, god bless your dad’s genetics,”. 

He laughed again, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a twinkle that told you he was just as aware of the subtle comment as you were. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you forward for another kiss. “I guess your dad did something right, too,” he teased, laughing at your silly comments, his lips brushing over yours as he moved to kiss your jawline. 

“I’m serious, Joey,” you said as he pressed light kisses around your face. “You’re so sexy and I just…ugh. It hurts,” you whined. 

He pulled his face up from your neck, a confused grin on his face, “...You..alright?” he carefully asked. 

“More than alright,” you breathed out with an almost drunken lovesick look on your face. “I’m just so in love with you,”. 

Joe smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your puffy lips, “And I’m just sooooo in love with you too, wifey. More than I can ever put into words or physically show. You’re the best thing in my life and fuck, I’m obsessed with every part of you,”. 

"You know,” you murmured, your lips curling into a soft smile as you gazed up at him. “I think I really like this version of you,”.

His brow arched, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Oh, yeah? And what version is that?”.

“This one,” you said, your fingers gliding down to brush his jawline. “The one who looks at me like I hung the stars. The one who can’t stop touching me, even when he’s half-asleep,”.

Joe chuckled, his warm laughter grumbling against your chest as he pulled you closer. “Can you blame me? Look at what I get to wake up to every day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You make it way too easy to fall for you all over again,”.

You felt your heart flutter at his words, the familiar warmth spreading through your chest. His lips, once again, moved down to your cheek, then your jaw, planting soft, lingering kisses that made your skin tingle.

“You’re such a sweet talker,” you teased, your voice light and playful as you tilted your head to give him better access.

“Only for you, angel,” he replied, his lips now hovering just above yours, his breath warm and intoxicating. He kissed you then, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that made you forget where you ended and he began. When he finally pulled back, his hand moved to rest on your lower belly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the soft skin there. The touch made your breath hitch slightly, a quiet spark of excitement lighting up inside you because of where his hand was.

“You’re gonna spoil me,” you whispered, your voice laced with affection as you reached up to brush a stray curl from his face.

Joe’s smile softened, his blue eyes locked onto yours. “You deserve to be spoiled,” he said simply, his tone full of confidence.

Your heart swelled, and before you could think twice, you let the words slip out, casual and subtle. “Well, you better not forget that when you’re the future father of my children,”.

Joe froze for a moment, his hand stilling on your stomach as his eyes widened slightly. “What’d you say?” he asked, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

You smiled, pretending like nothing happened as you leaned up to kiss his jawline. “I said you’re good at spoiling me,” you replied, your tone light and innocent, as if you hadn’t just dropped a hint that made your heart race.

Joe narrowed his eyes playfully, clearly catching the change in your tone but deciding not to push it. Instead, he smirked, his lips twisting into that familiar mischievous grin that always made your stomach flip. “Good,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, his lips trailing down your neck. “Because I plan to keep doing it. Forever,”.

And as his kisses deepened and his hands roamed, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Another subtle hint was planted and there were many more to come.

You wondered if he was starting to catch on…It’s not like you had been giving the dad-and-baby talk a break…

A few nights later - Dinner at Home 

The faint sounds of the music filled the kitchen as you and Joe sat at the table you’d set up for dinner. Plates of half-finished food sat between you, but the focus wasn’t on eating anymore. It was on the way Joe kept leaning closer to you, stealing kisses between bites, and the way his adorable laugh filled the air every time you tried to swat him away. 

You’d set your playlist to shuffle earlier, but when Sabrina Carpenter’s “Juno” started to play, you couldn’t help but grin. “Perfect timing for another hint,” you thought to yourself. The beat was light and playful, the melody so addictive it became hard for you to sit in your seat. You quickly got up from your chair and grabbed your untouched spoon to use as a microphone, twirling around the kitchen as you mouthed the words to yourself while you watched Joe. He was now sipping on his drink and watching you with curiosity, but also amused at the pop-star-like show you were putting on. 

“I know you want my touch for life, If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno. You know I just might let you lock me down tonight. One of me is cute, but two, though? Give it to me, baby. You make me wanna make you fall in love,” you sang, pointing straight to Joe as your beautiful voice echoed through the house. 

Joe’s eyebrows shot up, his form pausing mid-air as a slow, knowing smirk face spread across his face. He leaned back in his chair, comfortably crossing his arms, and his baby blues sparked with wonder. “Oh, really?” he said, his tone laced with intrigue. “You might let me make you Juno, huh?”. 

You blinked innocently, but the blush on your cheeks gave you away, “It’s just a song,” you replied casually. 

“Mmhm,” he nodded slowly, clearly not convinced. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table as his grin widened. “Seems like a pretty specific song to sing along to while staring right at me, don’t you think?”.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool even as your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. “It’s a catchy song, Joey. Don’t flatter yourself,” you said while slipping back into your seat.

“Oh, I’m flattered,” he teased, his smirk turning devilish as he leaned closer, his voice dropping lower. “So, what’s the deal, huh? You trying to tell me something?”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you shoved a piece of bread into your mouth to avoid answering. But Joe wasn’t letting it go. He reached out, gently tugging your hand away from your mouth, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“Come on, angel,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “You don’t just drop a line like that without explaining yourself,”.

Your cheeks burned as you finally met his gaze, the warmth in his expression melting your resolve. “Maybe I just like the idea,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Joe raised an eyebrow at your confession. “The idea, huh?” he repeated, his hand traveling down to your thigh. “And what idea is that, babe?”. 

You smirked, leaning in just enough for your lips to brush against his ear, your voice a soft, sultry whisper. “Guess you’ll have to keep loving me right to find out,” you teased, pulling back with a wink that left him grinning. 

The next morning 

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows as you sat on the counter, scrolling through the notifications on your phone while Joe leaned against the kitchen island, sipping his post-workout smoothie. He had just come out from the gym, his hair still damp from his quick rinse-off, and wearing one of those fitted shirts that hugged his chest and shoulders just right. The sight of him standing there, effortlessly attractive and completely unaware of how sexy he looked, made you feel lightheaded. 

“Literally fuck me. He looks so sexy and daddy right now,” you thought to yourself, feeling your panties dampen at the thoughts filling your head. “I swear to god, he better get these hints fast. I’m so ready to be the mother of his beautiful children,”.

Your staring wasn’t exactly…unnoticeable either. You were practically drooling at him when he looked up from his smoothie. “Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked, his brow rising as he questioned your motive. 

You smirked, holding your phone up and sneakily snapping a photo of him before he could notice, “No reason,” you replied, trying to hide your true feelings by sounding soft. 

Joe rolled his eyes and shook his head, wearing an almost bashful expression; however, that didn't stop you from sending the photo of the man who was hotter than the sun to your group chat.

you: guys…tell me this man isn’t giving “sexy future dad vibes” right now.  

maya: girl, STOP. he looks like he’d change diapers and still have the energy to fix the sink or something.  

lacy: i swear he’s the type to pull out the “dad voice” for bedtime stories and have the kids begging for more.  

emma: not even kidding, he’d probably rock a baby carrier like a runway model. wait..he basically is after that vogue thing. damn, y/n…you really got the whole package with joe

you: stoppppp, i’m blushing.  

lacy: oh, YOU’RE blushing? meanwhile, we’re all over here swooning by just thinking about little joe and y/n babies

maya: dead serious, if you don’t have his baby, i’m applying for the job (im kidding. james would kill me)  

emma: same. like, does he have a brother?  

you: calm downnn. he’s mine.  

lacy: we know. we’re just living vicariously through you.  

emma: no joke, though. aand i bet he’s already thought about it…you should ask him

maya: yeah, casually drop it during pillow talk. like, “hey babe, how do you feel about onesies?”  

lacy: LMAO. or say, “you’d look so hot holding our baby. thoughts?”  

you: …well, I may or may not have *just* said something like that a few nights ago

maya: OMG, WHAT DID HE SAY?  

you: i acted like i didn’t say anything and he didn’t ask…just joey being beautifully clueless as usual ;)

emma: LOL. iconic.  

lacy: he’s probably in the bathroom googling “how to be the hottest dad alive” right now

maya: he’s already got that title on lock, y/n you just gotta make it official 

you: you guys are insane. but also not wrong

lacy: we live to hype you up. now go make him earn that sexy future dad title  

emma: and then report back. details, queen. detailssss

maya: high five for locking that down, y/n :) you seriously won at life and just know im waiting for the pregnancy reveal…get to it.

lacy: mhm. i want to be called auntie lacy NOWW

You couldn’t control your laughter, the sound vibrating through your chest and bubbling out of you in uncontrollable waves as you read your friends’ ridiculous–yet accurate–texts. Eventually, Joe noticed your behavior as it was pretty hard to ignore. “What’s so funny?” he asked as he set his smoothie down, then slowly approached you. 

“Nothing!” you chirped, holding your phone to your chest to hide the incriminating messages.

“Oh, it’s something,” he replied, his hands landing on either side of you on the counter to cage you in. He leaned in close, his hot breath hitting your lips as he mumbled, “Come on, angel. Spill,”. 

You were still giggling at the situation, practically loopy from all the laughing and teasing, which prompted you to give in. “Fine, I may have told my friends that you’d look hot holding a baby…and that you give off sexy future dad vibes. There also may or may not be a photo of you involved,”. 

Joe froze for a second, then leaned back and blinked at you in disbelief. “You sent that…to your friends?”. 

“Hey! They agreed with me,” you defended, holding up your phone to show him the texts. 

He scrolled through the text thread, his ears getting redder and redder with each tease from your friends. Once he reached the end, his jaw was on the floor and it almost looked as if he was fighting a smile. “Seriously?”. 

“What?” you grinned unapologetically. “It’s true!”. 

He let out a bashful whine, sliding a hand down his face though the playful twinkle in his eyes showed you he was enjoying this. “You objectified me to your friends,”. 

You laughed, “Sorry if you feel objectified,” while sliding your hands to his chest. “But I mean…come on. Look at you,” you added with a kiss to his jaw. “It’s the truth, Joey. Can’t help myself. Hormones are high,”.

He let out a throaty laugh, shaking his head, “Hormones, huh?” his hands slipping to your waist as your legs opened to accommodate his large body. “You know…I could do something about that,”. 

Your breath hitched as you felt his crotch against yours, another rush of heat radiating through your body, “Could you now?” you challenged as your fingers played with his shirt. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, his lips brushing your ear before he dropped a soft kiss to the corner. “But first,” he said, suddenly pulling away and raising his hand with a goofy smile. “Your friends high-fived you for this…Where the hell is mine? I think I deserve to be recognized for locking down the sexy, breathtakingly gorgeous, angelic woman in front of me,”. 

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks as you looked at him with that look again–the dreamy one that spoke a thousand words. “I love you,” you breathed out without realizing it because you were so caught up in his ocean-blue eyes to the point where it felt like everything around you had faded away. 

He chuckled, “I love you a lot more,” while earning a high five from you. 

“There. Happy now?” you said while batting your lashes at him. 

“Mmm. Not yet,” he replied, his grin turning devilish as he quickly hooked his strong arm around your waist and lifted you off the counter, then spinning you around until your back pressed against the cool surface of the island. “But I’ve got some ideas on how to fix that,” he mumbled, his voice laced with heat. 

“Joe,” you breathlessly whispered, feeling the cool countertop against your back but all you could focus on was his tight grip on your waist, the warmth of his body, and the heated look in his eyes.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Me?” you teased breathlessly, your fingers curling into his shirt to pull him back in. “You’re the one that has his hormonal wife sprawled out on the kitchen counter right now. Who knows what you’re about to do,”.

Joe chuckled, his lips grazing your jawline as he kissed his way down to your neck. “You started it, babe,” he muttered against you, his teeth nipping the soft skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. “And now I’m gonna finish it,”. His hands slid down to your thighs, each squeeze and scratch drawing a gasp from your lips, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he settled between them. His lips found yours again, this time more ravenous, more demanding, as his hands roamed over your body.

“Joe,” you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently at the soft strands as his lips moved lower, trailing kisses down your throat and over the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his hands sliding beneath your shirt to grip your hips again, his thumbs pressing into your skin.

“You,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your hips arching toward him as heat pooled in your belly. “I want you,”.

That was all the encouragement he needed. In a blur of movement, your clothes were tossed, his shirt quickly joining the pile on the floor. The cool air hit your skin, but Joe’s heated gaze and the way his hands stroked your body made you forget everything else. He trailed kisses down your stomach, his lips lingering for a moment as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider. His mouth met yours again as he positioned himself, the thick tip of his cock brushing against your slick folds, drawing a whimper from your lips. “Joey, please,”. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice laced with desire as he pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

A gasp escaped you, your hands clutching his shoulders as he began to move, his thrusts deep and calculated. The cool surface of the island under you countered deliciously with the heat of his body as he set a tempo that had you melting beneath him.“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he picked up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the kitchen. “You feel so good,”.

“Joe,” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as he hit just the right spot, over and over, pulling a string of frantic moans from your lips. “Oh. My. God,”.

His hands moved to your hips again, holding you firmly in place as he pounded into you, his pace showing no sign of mercy. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through your tired body, building higher and higher until you felt like you might shatter. “So tight,” he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear as he pushed himself deeper. “So fucking perfect for me,”.

Normally you’d be fully against doing this in the kitchen, especially this bright and early in the morning. But you weren’t lying when you said that the hormones were high. He looked like an absolute god and you just wanted him to take you to heaven right then and there. He made you so insatiable, losing all forms of decency and innocence. 

And you fucking loved it. 

He moaned again, his hips snapping harder and harder into your soaking core, “I’m so…so close,” he breathed out, his voice strained from the amount of pleasure he was feeling. His hand slipped between your sweaty bodies, his fingers finding your clit as he circled the bundle of nerves with practiced ease. 

“Fuck, Joe. Oh…fuck!” you screamed, the pleasure hitting you like a tidal wave as your body arched into his. Your walls clenched his thick cock, causing a guttural moan from his lips as you cried out his name, your nails digging into his back for support. 

The sight of you reaching your high under him, the way your body shook, and the sound of his name on your lips, was all it took to send him over the edge after you. 

“On me, Joey,” you whispered, your voice laced with need. “I want to see it, on me. Mark your territory,”. 

The raw need in your voice sent a jolt of electricity through him, his jaw clenching as he groaned deeply. “Fuck..you drive me crazy,” he muttered, pulling out at the last second, his hand wrapping around himself, his motions desperate and fast. 

And with a final moan, he gave in, his release spilling out in thick, hot streams across your soft belly, painting your skin and claiming you as you asked. “Oh…,” you moaned at the sight of his pearly cum spilled out on your belly. The slickness against your skin made you hiss, and the sight of it pushed you into a whole other world.

His body trembled with the force of his release, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he caught his breath. "Holy shit, babe. I can't get enough of you," he panted as you slowly rubbed his back to help him down from his high.

"Me too, Joey," you lazily chuckled, panting as you stared up at the ceiling, basking in the afterglow of what felt like being brought to the gates of heaven.

For a few minutes, the room was filled with the sounds of labored breaths, and the air was thick with the smell of sweat and satisfaction. Joe used his other hand to reach for a towel nearby as his breathing steadied out, and then he carefully cleaned you up. 

His touch was so soft and gentle, each wipe of the towel over your skin was filled with care and attention, and it made your heart explode. Watching him like this, so attentive and loving even after the dirtiest moments, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of satisfaction.

You really deserved to be high-fived for locking him down. 

“Future dad vibes,” you teased under your breath. 

“Hm?” he hummed, brows furrowed as he glanced up at you. 

“Ohhh, nothing,” you sang, grinning mischievously. 

His eyes narrowed in suspicious, placing the towel to the side and leaning over you again. His eyes pinned you with a soft, curious look. “You’ve got that look in your eyes again,” he said. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”.

“Just the usual thoughts,” you smiled, “Like how lucky I am to have you,”. 

His face softened, his hand cradling your face as his thumb stroked your cheek, “I’m the lucky one, mama,” he said, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was as tender as it was intoxicating. 

Mama?

“Oh my god? Is he catching on?” you thought to yourself as you smiled into the kiss. You quickly pulled away, “Did you just…call me mama?” you asked, trying to keep your cool as you stared into his captivating eyes. 

Joe leaned back, a little sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. “Uhhh…maybe?” he said, his voice a little casual but also a little…nervous? “I don’t know…it just felt right,”.

It’s a sign. A sign from the universe. 

He had to be catching on…right?

You laughed softly, your hands resting on his chest as you leaned up to him. “Well, it’s cute,”. 

“Cute, huh?” he murmured, pulling you closer. “You like it, mama. I can tell,”. 

You felt your heart flutter at the nickname again. The thought of how close you were to that becoming a reality filled your body with the most extraordinary feeling. “...Maybe,” you responded with that dreamy look in your eyes again. 

A week later - Friday Night

The two of you were sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by takeout containers and half-empty bottles of sparkling water. Today was a rest day for Joe as he was playing Monday Night Football this week, so you decided to take it easy and have a little date night at home. Back in college, a lot of your date nights looked like this because you both preferred comfort over glitz and glamor. You just needed each other, some good takeout, and an entertaining movie, and you were set. 

You two did simplicity better than any other couple. For you, the extravagant dates and expensive gifts didn’t matter nearly as much as the way Joe made you laugh with his dry humor, how he’d shower you with kisses after a long day, and just those little moments your hopelessly romantic heart craved. 

The way he looked at you right now, all cozy on the floor, served as a reminder of how lucky you were to have built a life where you could just be.  

Joe had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, your head resting comfortably on his chest as you both were settled on the plush rug, laughing over another silly rom-com you’d picked out. The soft hum of the TV was barely audible over the few crunches of takeout and the shared laughter between you two. He had one hand lazily reaching for another spring roll, while the other gently ran up and down your arm, his thumb brushing your skin in slow strokes. “I don’t know why we ever do anything else,” Joe murmured with a lazy smile, taking another bite of his food before glancing at you. His eyes were warm like he’d never want to be anywhere else in the world but here, with you. “This is perfect”.

You grinned, stretching out next to him and letting your fingers trace the outline of his chest through his soft, Bengals t-shirt. “I don’t know either,” you teased, your voice light and playful. “I could definitely get used to this for, like, forever,”.

Joe raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk as he caught your gaze. “Forever, huh?” He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek as his lips brushed softly over your temple. “You sayin’ you’d be okay with being stuck with me for the rest of your life?”.

You giggled, the sound soft and genuine, as you pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw. “I mean, you did already put the ring on my finger and say your vows at the altar….but yeah,” you smiled. “Just you, me, some food, and our couch... maybe some babies one day,”.

Here we go. Final hint. This has to work. 

You had been dropping hints almost every day for the past week and a half, there was no way he was that oblivious, right? As each day passed, you got more and more restless. You just wanted him to get what you were implying and make it happen. It was that simple.

You wanted him to make you Juno. 

It may have just been a cute little song you had been obsessed with lately, but Sabrina really spoke to your heart with every lyric. The way the song casually danced around love, intimacy, infatuation, and that perfect type of connection–it made you think about your own future, what it could be, and how, deep down, you felt ready. You were already so in love with Joe, and that love was only growing stronger. The thought of starting a family, of being his partner in something even more beautiful, was controlling all your thoughts.

Joe’s hand paused on your arm for a second, and you could feel the shift in his energy. His gaze, once playful, turned thoughtful as he pulled back just enough to look at you. “You’ve been talking about that a lot lately,” he murmured, a hint of something deeper in his voice. “Having babies?”.

“Oh my god,” you thought, your heart racing in your chest. This was it. He was finally catching on.

You bit your lip, feeling nervous but trying to keep your cool. “Maybe,” you said softly, meeting his eyes. Your voice suddenly became more stable as you continued, “I think about it a lot. About us...and a future,” you paused, watching his reaction. “You, me, and…a little one,”.

His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb grazing your cheek in that comforting way he always did when he was about to say something important. “I think about it too,” he said, his voice low and steady, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. “I think I’ve always wanted that. Wanted to be a father. With you,”. 

“Oh my GOD,” the voice in your head was screaming with excitement. 

He wanted it too. 

You blinked in surprise, your heart skipping a beat at the honesty in his voice. He continued, his eyes locking with yours, the gravity there too clear to ignore. “I watch the way you are with kids. The way your vibrant laugh fills up the room when you’re spinning my niece around at a family gathering. The way your whole face lights up when a baby looks at you and waves,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I see how natural you are, how much love you give to them, and it just...makes me want that. I want to give that to you, to build that with you,”.

A warm flush crept across your cheeks, but your heart swelled with tenderness. He wasn’t just saying these words–he was feeling them, and it made everything feel even more real.

He sighed softly, his gaze softening as he spoke again, his voice heavy with something deeper now. “I’ve always wanted this, but I didn’t want to pressure you. I didn’t want you to feel like I was rushing you into something before you were ready. But I see the way you look at them, and I can’t ignore it. It’s like…everything inside me knows that you’re the one. The woman of my dreams. My wife, obviously, since I married you,” he said with a laugh, earning one from you too. “And if we’re being honest, I’ve never wanted anything more than to be a father with you by my side,”. 

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes, and you were overwhelmed by the love and sincerity in his voice. He wanted this with you, too. He didn’t just want to create a family with anyone; he wanted to create it with you. You rested your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “Joe,” you whispered, “I want it, too. More than anything,”.

“Yeah, I know,” he laughed. “Your hints were definitely hinting,” he said with a kiss to your cheek. 

You chuckled softly, wiping away the tears that had started to fall down your cheeks. Joe’s easy laugh made you feel safe, loved, and seen in a way that only he could. The weight of the moment was still heavy, but now it felt full of hope, not pressure.

“You caught on, huh?” you teased, your voice still a little shaky with emotion.

“How could I not? I think what did it was that night when you sang Juno and pointed right at me, you had that dreamy look in your eyes,”. 

You beamed with excitement, “Imagine a mini version of you running around–blonde curls, big blue eyes, tiny cleats. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t be adorable,”.

Joe paused, “A mini version of me?”. 

You nodded enthusiastically. “One of you is cute, but two, though? Give it to me babyyyy. Game over. The world wouldn’t be ready for a mini Joey B. I honestly think I’d give birth to your twin,”.

Joe chuckled, leaning his head back against the couch with a smirk. “You’ve really thought this through, huh? Even the fact that we’ll have a boy first?”.

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, leaning closer, your hand resting on his thigh again. “I mean, you’d be the fun, cool dad, teaching him how to throw a perfect spiral. All his friends would be so jealous because his daddy and coach is THE Joe Burrow. And me? I’d be the mom who packs the best snacks for football practice and wins everyone over with my charm. Total dream team,”.

Joe let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”.

“And you love it,” you shot back, tipping your head with a grin.

He reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I do,” he said simply, his voice dropping into that low, serious tone that always sent shivers down your spine. “And you know what?”

“What?” you asked, your heart suddenly thumping as he leaned closer.

“I think you might be onto something,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “Two of me? Could be kind of fun,”.

Your breath hitched, your hands moving to his shoulders as his lips captured yours in a kiss that made your whole body feel lightweight. He deepened the kiss, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, his hands settling on your waist. As you broke apart for air, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes glistening with a mix of naughtiness and love. “But you know,” he added, his voice teasing now, “Two of you wouldn’t be so bad either. Imagine how bossy and adorable that kid would be,”.

You gasped in mock offense, smacking his chest. “Excuse me! I’m not bossy–I’m assertive. I always get everything done just the way I want, and that, my gorgeous lover, is a talent everyone wants to have,”.

Joe laughed, pulling you closer. “Sure, babe. Whatever you say,” he dragged out. "But if we’re really doing this…like really doing this right now. I guess we better get started,”.

Your cheeks blushed as his hands tightened on your waist, his lips trailing down your neck. “Oh, you’re serious now?” you teased, though your voice lingered with excitement.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression soft but full of determination. “Completely fucking serious,” he said. “You ready for two of us?”.

Your answer came without hesitation, your lips finding his again as you whispered, “More than ready,”.

—

The house was still, the air filled with the quiet buzz of the night, interrupted only by the sound of Joe’s breathing and the soft creak of the floorboards beneath him. He carried you through the house as if you were weightless, his arms wrapped around you like a cocoon, your body snuggled against his warmth. He moved slowly, taking his time to bring you to the bedroom as if he was savoring every second, every beat of your hearts in sync.

When he placed you onto the bed, it felt like the world had slowed, almost stopped. He hovered above you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his gaze heavy with desire but also a tenderness that took your breath away. His lips pressed against your skin, soft at first, leaving a trail of warmth across your collarbone as he kissed his way down your neck. Each touch, each press of his lips, felt like a slow fire building inside you, the heat of his mouth sending shivers spiraling through your body.

His hands traced over your skin, following the curve of your waist before settling on your hips, pulling you closer. Everything felt like a blur and before you knew it, you both were completely bare, physically and emotionally.

His voice, was deep and soft, as he spoke against your skin. "You know, baby, if we're really going for two of me…," His words were teasing, but there was a sweetness in them, an undeniable affection. "We're going to need to take this slow. I want to feel every inch of you,".

You shivered at his words, the sensation of his breath against your neck leaving you with a rush of desire. Your fingers slid up his back, feeling the tight muscles under his skin, every inch of him hard and firm as he braced himself above you. "You think I can’t keep up?" you teased softly, your voice a little breathless from the intensity of his touch.

Joe’s lips curved into a smirk as he pulled back to look into your eyes. His blue eyes darkened as he gazed at you with such intensity it made your heart race. “Oh, I know you can,” he whispered, voice thick with desire. “But I’m not in a rush. We’re going to take our time. I want to make sure you feel everything,”. 

He lowered his body again, pressing his chest against yours, his lips finding yours in a slow, soft kiss that deepened as he slowly sank into you. Every movement, every brush of his lips was purposeful, as if he was trying to tell you everything he felt with each touch, each kiss. His body moved over yours like water, slowly and fluidly as his hands slid to your hips, fingertips digging in, pulling you closer as his lips trailed down to your neck, biting softly. “You’re perfect,” he whispered against your ear. “So perfect, baby. I’m going to give you everything,”.

Joe’s hand slid between your bodies, pulling you closer as his lips found a sensitive spot on your neck. “I want to hear you, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and full of desire. “Tell me how much you want me,”.

You let out a soft moan as his fingers teased you with slow, deliberate strokes. Your body arched into his touch, desperate for more, your nails lightly dragging down his back. “I want you,” you breathed, your voice shaky, filled with need. “I want all of you, Joe. Please,”.

He groaned in response, pressing his body closer to yours as his lips captured yours in a deep, passionate kiss. His movements grew more urgent, his hips rocking against yours, each thrust deeper and slower, filling you completely. The sensation of him inside you was overwhelming, but all you wanted was more, to feel him even closer. “God, you feel so good,” Joe whispered between kisses, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect. I’m going to take care of you, baby. Make you feel so good,”.

His rhythm was steady and deep at first, savoring every moment, each thrust building slowly as his muscles flexed with every movement. The heat between you two was growing, his breath becoming heavier as he pressed you closer, meeting your body with more urgency. “You’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you to meet his every thrust. “I can’t get enough of you. You feel incredible, baby.”

His cock grazed over your sweet spot, each push and pull causing gasps to leave your lips. “Oh, Joe…fuck…fuck me,” you moaned. 

Each movement sent waves of pleasure through your body, your hands tracing his back, feeling every muscle ripple with each thrust. His pace picked up, but he kept the rhythm slow, savoring the moment, his eyes dark with desire but soft with affection. “You’re going to be so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice full of awe as he kissed you again. “I can’t wait to see you carrying my baby. I’ll give you everything, Y/N. Everything,”.

His words sent a rush of heat through you, your body trembling with the intensity. “Joe…I-...you feel so good. I love you, I love you so much,” you whimpered, your brain clouded with lust and love for the man above you. He shifted his position, his hands pushing your legs further apart as he deepened each thrust, his rhythm slow but powerful, pushing you to the edge with every motion. “You feel amazing…fuck- I love you,” he panted, his voice strained. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you whined, feeling his large hand on your belly. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder as he continued to pound into your slick core. With each movement, he drove deeper, his body moving in sync with yours, filling you completely. His hands traced every curve of your body, his lips whispering more praise, more sweet words. “You’re so perfect. So perfect for me, baby. Tell me you’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low with hunger. “Tell me you want this,”.

“Yes,” you gasped, your body shaking beneath him, the pressure building inside you. “Yes, I’m yours. All yours, Joe,”.

His pace grew faster, more urgent, his body shaking with the effort to hold back as he neared his high. “Take it all, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with emotion. “Take all of me,”. 

With one final deep thrust, he jerked, his body trembling as he buried himself deep inside you. The thick band in your stomach snapped at the same time as his hot seed spurted into your core, coating your walls. His grip on your hips tightened as he whispered your name, his voice full of love, desire, and a promise that lingered in the air between you two.

—

A little while later

“You think we did it?” you asked, your voice soft, yet a playful interest lingered in your tone.

Joe chuckled lowly, his chest vibrating against your cheek as you lay in his arms. The sound was like a secret melody that only you two shared. He let his fingers glide through your hair, the gentle touch sending a calm warmth through your body. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” he replied, his voice low, teasing, yet laced with affection. “But just in case… I wouldn’t mind practicing a few more times…you know…for the sake of our little team,”.

You laughed softly, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside you, full of joy and love. You shifted your head up slightly to look at him, catching the look in his eyes. “Oh, so now you’re eager for two of you?” you teased, a sly smile forming on your lips.

Joe tilted his head, his grin growing wider, and you saw the admiration flicker in his eyes. It made your heart skip a beat. “If they’re anything like you, how could I not be?” his voice was sincere, his words filled with warmth and something deeper, a promise that made your pulse quicken just a little.

The simple, genuine way he looked at you sent a wave of love rushing over you, and before you even realized it, your fingers were threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you leaned in for a kiss. The kiss was soft, lingering, as if you both were savoring the sweetness of this moment, the quiet intimacy between you. “Good answer, Burrow,” you murmured against his lips, your heart gushing with affection. “Let’s see if you can keep up this energy, though,”.

His grin widened, and there was a glimmer of playful challenge in his eyes as he shifted, his strong hands finding their place on your waist. Without warning, he flipped you onto your back, the sudden shift leaving you breathless, a shock of ecstasy rushing through you. His lips found yours again in an instant, the kiss more passionate, more demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You could feel his heat, his body pressing against yours, and it sent a wave of excitement rushing through you, making everything else fade away. “Oh, don’t worry, babe,” Joe whispered between kisses, “I’ve got plenty left in the tank.”

The way he said it, the promise in his voice, made your heart race again. Everything around you faded as the moment pulled between you–soft and full of meaning. His hands slid down your body, finding your hips, pulling you closer as if he never wanted to leave. The warmth of his body, the softness of his touch, and the way you fit together perfectly made you feel like nothing else in the world mattered.  

As he held you, the thought of what could come next–the idea of him being the father of your children–filled you with quiet excitement. This wasn’t just a brief moment. This was the beginning of something real, something you couldn’t wait to experience with him. The thought of carrying his child, of building a life together, made everything feel even more intimate, even more meaningful. You both knew this was only the start of what was to come, and that thought alone made everything feel even more precious.

And he wanted it just as bad as you.

5 Months Later

Five months later, you and Joe found yourselves navigating the world of baby shopping–something you’d never quite imagined would be this overwhelming, but here you were, standing in the middle of a store that seemed to have every possible baby item under the sun. The shelves were stacked with tiny clothes, soft toys, cribs, diapers, bottles, pacifiers, and honestly, you were starting to lose track. Your baby bump was prominent now, a constant reminder that your life was about to get a whole lot more chaotic–and you couldn’t wait.

Joe, of course, was hilariously lost in the sea of options. He stood in front of a shelf of baby pacifiers, holding up two identical ones, squinting at them as if they were the most complicated decision of his life. “Babe, I swear…they look exactly the same. Why are there so many of these?” Joe muttered, a confused frown crossing his face. “What’s the difference between a giraffe pacifier and a…regular one? Are these for actual babies or are they just toys?”.

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight of him, standing there like a man on the brink of a breakdown. “Joey, they’re just pacifiers, it’s not that deep,”. You moved over and picked up the giraffe one he was holding, smiling as you handed it to him. “This one has a cute giraffe on it. Baby Burrow is going to love it,”.

He made a dramatic face, clearly trying to comprehend how pacifiers were even a thing in the first place. “Okay, but like…why so many giraffes? Can’t we just stick with one? There are a hundred versions of the same thing in here,”.

You laughed and stepped closer to him, your hand resting on your growing belly. “Welcome to parenthood, babe. The options never end,”.

Joe stared at the shelves again, now starting to feel like he might have made a huge mistake agreeing to this shopping trip. “This is… way harder than any game-winning play,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes wide as he scanned the baby aisles. “I don’t even know where to start. Look at all this stuff. Baby clothes, diapers, wipes–combo wipes–isn’t one pack enough?”.

“I can’t believe you’re comparing diapers to football plays,” you teased, giving him a playful eye roll. “But I’m starting to see it now..you’re overwhelmed. I knew this was going to happen,”.

He finally turned to you, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “So, this is what you meant by making you Juno, huh?” his voice had a light, teasing edge, and you could see the twinkle in his eye as he tried to make sense of the madness.

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him for a second. A slow smile spread across your face as you realized that, yes, this was your life now–the pregnancy, the baby stuff, the chaos–and it felt absolutely right. You walked over to him, shaking your head with a smile. “Exactly. You loved me right and I let you make me Juno. Congratulations,”.

Joe’s grin only grew wider as he took a step closer to you, his arms slipping around your waist and his hand resting on your bump. “Well, if I’m the cause of this, I guess that makes me the one who has to do all the heavy lifting when it comes to baby gear, huh?” he wiggled his eyebrows, trying to hide his playfulness behind mock seriousness. 

“Oh, you better believe it,” you said, holding your belly with one hand while you wrapped the other around his neck. “That means carrying all the baby stuff from the car to the house. You ready for that, Burrow?”.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice suddenly taking on an overly confident tone, even though you could see his inner panic behind his eyes. “I’ll carry everything, no problem. I’m ready to be a dad,”.

You raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see how ready you are when the baby actually gets here,”.

Just as you said that, Joe leaned down to kiss you softly, a kiss that was sweet, slow, and full of promise. He pulled away after a moment, his lips twirling into a grin. “I’ll be ready, babe. You know why?” He paused for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying this moment. “Because I’m gonna be the best damn dad there ever was and I have the best damn mom by my side,”.

You laughed and rolled your eyes playfully, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. You rested your head against his chest for a moment, the soft buzz of the slightly busy store around you fading. “You’re already the best, Joe,”.

He hugged you tighter, his hand gently brushing over your bump, and then he looked at you with a soft smile. “You’re the best too, babe. And this whole baby thing? I think we’ve got this, I’m serious,”.

The two of you stood there for a moment, surrounded by aisles of tiny socks and stuffed animals, but it didn’t matter. At this moment, nothing else was more important than the two of you and the new life you were about to bring into the world. The future felt as bright as Joe’s smile, and there was no one else you’d rather do this with.

As you both walked toward the checkout with your cart full of baby things, Joe glanced down at you with that same, goofy grin that made your heart skip a beat. “Okay, maybe one more pacifier…just in case,”.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re already thinking ahead, huh? I guess we should just buy the whole store,”.

“Well,” Joe said, pulling you close as you reached the register, “We might as well start preparing for the chaos. But hey, at least we’re in this together,”.

“Always, Joe,” you said, smiling as you leaned in for another kiss. “There’s nobody else I’d rather be with right now. Nobody else I’d rather have make me juno,”. 

–The End–

[v1x3n]

SNAP! ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - fluff, angst - panic attack, trauma, flinching.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

There's a sudden knock on the door to your room, your body dry and freshly washed, the minty smell from the soap bar fills your nostrils whilst you slump on the hospital bed. Curled in a way that was uncomfortable but it wasn't hurting any wounds so that would have to do.

The knock is followed by the door opening wide, revealing a man who you recognise, a man named Logan. The cheery fellow bounces into the room, suddenly the dingy lights seem brighter. "how's my favourite girl?" the man smiles while trotting inside, then closing the door behind him. "The nurse told me t' not bother ya sooo here I am!" he announces, smirking when you peer up at him. Your permanent frown slightly moves upwards when you see the goofy yet devious grin on his face.

Without a reply he sits down on the wooden chair placed by your bed, "you're looking better! my wounds are barely healing!" you wonder what had happened to him for a moment but then you remember that one of the first times he snook into your room, he rambled on for almost an hour. Telling you that he had been shot whilst on a mission, twice in the stomach. Luckily he survived. He smiles as he stretches out his hand, groaning, "I'm glad you're okay," he says, his voice filled with emotion.

A sigh falls from his lips when you sit up, "saw some big beefy guy leave your room before," john, he's obviously talking about john. "Looked real pissed off." Logan mumbles under his breath when he looks to the side. Fucking twat, he was pissed off? He doesn't deserve to be pissed off. "Ya know him?" He looks towards you for an answer. But you two both knew you weren't going to verbally say anything. You nodded hesitantly.

"Ya friends?" the man questions, this time it wasn't so hesitant. "No." You firmly said. Logan thought this was the first time you had spoken to him, it clearly must've been a trigger or something, "he is NOT my friend." Reaffirming your statement, pure rage boils through you at even thinking about being his friend. He lost that fucking privilege. "huh."

There's a silence that lingers in the air. The wet droplets from your freshly washed hair drips down, sending shivers down through your body. "Well, at least you have people visiting. My family is too busy t' visit. Or they just divnt wanna." he mutters the last part, "id kill for anyone t' visit."

"You know you get a lot of people lining outa your door? I can barely get through mine cause these bulky men will always be there." What? You questioned internally. "Ya friends with them?" you probably knew who he was talking about, it was probably the other knobheads that harmed you. None of them had really spoken to you since you arrived, john would sit down on the chair that Logan was currently sitting on sometimes, you two wouldnt talk though. Youd rather kill yourself than utter a single word to him.

"none of them are my friends, " gruffly talking again. Your throat kinda hurt so the sounds came out raspier than you had wanted them to. "hmm! Anywho! You wanna play some cards with me? I knowww.... Snap?" Then he puts on a dumb little smile.

After rolling your eyes at him, you nod. Magically he pulls out a card deck. Placing them on the blanket covering you. Once splitting the deck into two and passes you a half. Logan puts a card down gently on the blanket, not wanting to put it down too hard and hurt you. He didn't quite know what had happened to you but by the looks of it it was bad. You had nurses in all the time, your body was wrapped in bandages and by the looks of it, you only had 8 fingers.

"6 of clubs!" he announces. You place down a random card, 4 of hearts.

After a few rounds, you had won. For him having a deck of cards and wanting to play snap, he wasn't that good at it. A small smirk rises on your face, looking down at your massive stack whilst he had no cards left. "Well, well done." He grumbles with a mocking pout.

Once nodding you give him half your cards and he whacks them across the bed. Scattering the cards around, you gasp. Laughing, he observes the stunned look on your face before you shuffle the cards and half them. Dividing them into two halves, again making sure you both have a half each.

The word snap was yelled out from Logan's lips as he finally got ahead of you and slammed his callosed hand downwards onto the 2 of diamonds. When you flinch, he felt the weight of his face drop. "fuck, I'm sorry-" the look on your face could only be described as panicked, scared and fearful.

Suddenly a loud ringing blinds your ears. Your breathing grows. You take sharp and quick breaths when he looks towards you. You don't know why you panicked so much over something so stupid but then again - you do. "oh god I'm sorry!"

Logan's heart sank as he watched you struggle to catch your breath. He quickly slid closer, his voice gentle, "Hey- fuck- it's okay. I'm right here." He hesitated, unsure whether to reach out physically, but instead whispered, "Just breathe with me, nice and slow," trying to guide you back to calmness. But unfortunately that didn't help. You flinch back once more and shuffle under the blanket. The sounds of the room grew louder, the beeping of the machines sound over Logan's - trying to be - comforting voice. Your breath caught up once more. Your breathing is loud and fast. "it's okay-"

He gets cut off when a nurse comes into the room. She quickly rushes to you and all you see is almost a blur when your eyes prick with water. Distant yelling and you see the obscured bodies rush into the room, the nurse beside you and mumbling nonsense as the blob you think is Logan leaves. 

[andersonfilms]

KNUCKLE VELVET, TORN ON MY TEETH

❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞

pairing. pitfighter!vi x bartender!reader

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: arcane season two spoilers, soft angst, smut, bartender!reader, crashout!vi mends her cold heart, inexperienced!vi, switch!reader + vi, fem coded reader, coded alcohol addiction, slight spit kink, strap use.

KNUCKLE VELVET TORN ON MY TEETH, there's something charming about the pitfighter who doesn't stop drinking until she reaches the bottom of the barrel and the bartender who keeps walking her home.

wc. 7k+

rayray yaps. popping my vi!oneshot cherry, hehe, and i'm happy to do so. the vi brainrot has been real as fuck lately. i fear it's not going away anytime soon. but i wanted to give a special shoutout to @hypnagogics for proofreading this fic, means sm to me ily + my sweet bubba, @absfawn for the title name, i could kiss you until my lips fall off. the best people ever, i love them so much. okay, now i have yapped enough! happy reading, hope you enjoy.

Trapped in the abyss, just when everything had been taken from her life seems to sacrifice another offering on a silver platter. Something else that she thought could be hers, but wasn’t. In the end, all of it was the same. Life is the same. She takes three steps forward, circumstances out of her control take her apart like enforcers imposing their will on Zaun, and she’s forced to move five steps back. It’s all she feels, powerless. 

Wanting nothing more than to drown her sorrows, forget all that she's lost. For everything that’s been taken, Vi feels an overpowering loss, threatening to take over everything she’s trying to build. But Vi thinks of none of it now, she can’t afford to think of one more thing. So, she doesn’t. All of her mind forgets. She forces herself to. 

Zaun, Piltover, Jinx, Vander, Silco, and Cait. 

She drowns in blood, sweat, and liquor for nights to come. She forgets everything and you are just the cherry top on this one shitty sundae. Anytime she’s here, Vi manages to get herself into a fight. Each time. Every time she tries to apologize or hold an ounce of guilt in her eyes, you see right through her crystal blues. From the very first night, you called her bullshit. Even if Vi didn’t give in, it was hard to hide her small smirk. 

She lets herself think it’s because you’re a bartender. You practically get paid to read people, listen to them vent about shit you probably don’t give two shits about and break up the fights that erupt every thirty minutes. Overinflated egos and drunken assholes weren’t a great mix. The jury was still out if you though Vi was one. She could have both, she didn’t really talk much. Vi fought, drank until she couldn’t see straight, and you helped her up to her small apartment right across the street and up the steps into her said apartment. 

No matter how hard she tries, it always ends the same. Vi looking like an imbecile and you, the pretty bartender who shuts down every advance she throws your way. Vi wonders who had a stronger shell, what you’re hiding in order to protect yourself. 

Maybe she is just an asshole. 

“You don’t have to walk me up here. I-I can make it just fine on my own.” 

As soon as your fingertips let go of her fragile frame, Vi’s inebriated body collapses on the concrete steps, grabbing onto the metal framing as if her life depends on it. 

“Really? Now you wanna prove a point?” 

“For your information, I’m always in it to prove a point.” 

Even if your words are harsh, with a soft smile and a hand open, Vi takes it as you let her lean on your weight as you assist her up the steps. There’s little shame to be had once the two of you make it in. It isn’t like the first time and when she noticed the scrunch of your nose in taking the smell, tequila and grease. Vi thought it was cute but she halts any further thought. 

Quickly, Vi disposed of her leather jacket and pants she’s left in boxers and the wrap protecting her chest. The part of her life that seems to be kept together. She doesn’t really mind it though, you. Seeing her like this. Even more so, she enjoys it. You’re always so dismissive at the bar, hardly holding eye contact, turning down any flirting she hurls your way. Just like the vomit Vi had nearly thrown up on your shoes but made a quick diversion for the bush to the right of her instead. 

This is truly the only time she knows you want her. Not so subtly, your eyes trace her like each pinpoint of your gaze is painting her on a clean canvas, one Vi wonders if she’ll like or not. When she’s been around you, she’s been wondering about a lot of things — thoughts she quite literally can’t afford. 

It’s her, nothing ever ends well when her feelings can get crushed on the other side. 

Everything she touches burns to ash before she can even hold it for a moment, a second of symphony retaliates with years of misery. How could you be any different? She wishes you would burn her underneath your gaze, put her out of the misery she feels growing every day, but you don’t. You’re always pulling her out of trouble when you truly don’t have to. It’s not your job to take care of her or hell, even look after her. 

But you do and she can’t seem to figure out why. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Just shut the fuck up and let me help you. Not everyone has a motive. Some people just like to help when someone is so clearly struggling.” 

“I’m not—” 

You give her a glare that seems to shut her up. You draw a bath for her. It’s easy to find her towels in the only cabinet. It’s an acute studio apartment. More so of a small room with a stove stop, minimal counter space, and one bathroom enough to bathe and brush her teeth in. There isn’t much left of it but it’s hers. Grabbing the first aid kit, you kneel between her legs, the mattress sits on the floor, her legs spread and stretching out in front of you. 

“Let me help you. Alright?” Vi grumbles, a incoherent complaint, but she lets you tend to her wounds. 

It’s mainly just cleaning off her dry blood as she still complains in the process, but there’s a few cuts on her face and her cheeks are already beginning to bruise. It’s not a secret, she bruises like a peach but she always makes sure her opponent is leaving a lot more with just a few cuts and a bruise the size of a plum. 

It’s then, when you’re concentrating on the cuts on her face, the busted lip she’s sporting; she looks at you. Maybe it’s the first time she has, but without even realizing it, she gets lost. Not in the way Vi doesn’t know who she is, that she’s completely lost on, but Vi sees you. 

Bright-eyed, optimistic, helpful, kind — all attributes she couldn’t claim but wears like a badge of honor. As if helping others instills you with a sense of purpose, something that’s always been a lost cause to her. Fight until the next fight, and the next, and the next. That’s what she’s done, she's always been a fighter. She’s fallen back on it when needed. It’s clear to her. Like a vision she could see, crystal clear through some stupid ball, it’s always been about survival. 

But how much longer does she want to fight and how much more does she have in her? 

“Thanks.” Vi speaks softly. 

Not knowing where to place her palms, she settles for her thigh. Silent as she watches, nearly analyzing every moment, every glance, every little thing you’re doing. It’s sobering to say the least. You don’t need to be delicate but you are. It’s more kindness than she deserves, nearly leaving a bitter taste on her tongue but when you offer a small smile and a soft whisper, you’re welcome. 

It’s the sweetest thing Vi has ever seen. 

There’s something different in the way you look at her. The soft omission exposes how sweet on Vi you may be. Definitely more than you’d let on, which was well…none. Up until tonight, she thought you hated her. With each word uttered in your direction, Vi assumed you’d rather swallow bile than stomach her slurred, flirty speech. 

“Why do you want to help? It’s not like I’ve exactly been—” 

“Kind?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

This time Vi lets the smile reach her eyes and your smile gets even sweeter. She can practically feel the sweetness rotting her teeth as she speaks. It’s the first time she feels something new, something as bright as the light radiating through your eyes. 

“You just seem different. Even if you do try to hide it.” 

With a flush of crimson coating the apple of her cheeks, she’s never been quite as exposed as this. The next few weeks are spent with less drinking, but Vi frequents the bar just as much as she did before. She orders a few pints just to talk to you. She’s learning more about you, slowly but surely, you’re opening up more. Divulging information you wouldn’t have before, trust is earned. It’s something you told her the first night you met and to this day, Vi still remembers it. 

Regardless of how drunk she’d been when you said it. 

It’s a typical night. Vi flirted with you but you aren’t being dismissive tonight but you’re careful enough to not let her know exactly how you feel. Everything you say is guarded enough you keep her on her toes, for a moment she thinks she might have to become a ballerina. It’s a slow night, Wednesday. Go figure Vi thinks. There was a woman who’d also been flirting with you all night. Vi thought she was beautiful, sweet, funny…certainly was making you laugh all night. 

Part of Vi wanted to feel jealous but it feels too good hearing you laugh, she says nothing. Maybe you just don’t like women. Vi was known for reading into things too much, thinking everyone thought with their heart first just like she did, and assuming every hot and attractive woman was into other women — just like she is. 

But the brunette left before closing, leaving Vi and a few other regulars paying their tab as they stumbled home with a belly full of liquor of their choosing. 

“Alright Vi, don’t you have somewhere to be? Maybe getting some sleep for the night?” 

“I don’t sleep much, it’s better if I don’t.” 

“Keeps the nightmares away.” 

All Vi does is nod. 

“Story of the century.” You take Vi’s empty pint before washing it dispersing in the sink before cleaning up the remainder of the bar top. “Everyone’s got one around here and the new one is usually even more depressing than the last.” 

“What about yours?” 

“If you wanna hear that, I’ll have to be the one doing the drinking.” You smile but it’s the first one Vi recognizes as insincere. 

“Yeah, seems to be the stone cold requirement for a heart to heart.” 

Vi’s silent as you vent to her about the customer who refused to pay up tonight until you threatened to kick his ass and that wasn't enough, you threatened Letty on him. Vi found herself only slightly entranced as you spoke with such color, your animated voice doing impressions of the stubborn patreon, moving your hands as you speak, eyebrows furrowed as you finished the story. 

You’re done cleaning and are ready to close by the time you finish, locking the door as Vi stuffs her hands in her pockets, “Can I ask you something?” 

You cling to your bag like a lifeline. Vi notices how tight your grip is on the strap, almost as if you’re afraid. Of what? She has a craving to find out. “Why’d you turn her away? She seemed plenty interested. Not your type?” 

You take a step forward, just as close as the last time you were in her apartment, tending to wounds she wouldn’t have really cared about but still she let you clean them. 

You didn’t have to know that. Not yet, anyway. 

“No, not really. I like my women a little rough around the edges, stumbling out of bars so wasted they can’t even walk home by themselves.” You smirk, grabbing the lapel of her leather jacket as you tug her closer to you. “Or is that what you want me to say?” 

“Is it true?” 

You both know the hope in her eyes is dangerous. 

Hope. 

A foreign concept in Zaun. If you get too close to the flame, you’ll get burned, dusting into ash as if you never existed. It’s what shimmer did to people, wipe them off the map until they reformed into a shell of what they used to be. You didn’t just get out of a place like this, not without some help. Vi could barely even help herself. 

The both of you know it’s a bad idea. A terrible, god awful idea, but you still move in closer to her. Vi notices and she wipes the smirk off her face, your warm hands finding purchase on her exposed hips, drawing soft circles on her hip bones. She likes it, even when her heart feels torn from being blown to bits by a certain blue-eyed beauty. 

Vi likes you. 

“Your skin is softer than I thought it would be, smooth like pure silk. Not that I’ve ever touched it before but I’ve got to believe it would feel a lot like this.” 

Vi feels a tingle up her spin, your touch is overwhelming, more than she bargained for really. A stumbling, messy kiss is all she really expected if anything. Not this. Clearly, you knew what to do. Leaving Vi a little clueless in that department, she’s knocked off her feet once again but this time in a way she wants to be. But actually bringing something this special to anything more than a few flirty quips? It never seems to be her strong suit. 

So, she puts her best foot forward. Her big stupid mouth, one she can never quite fully silence. “I can guarantee my lips feel a lot softer.” 

“Vi—” You speak her name like a warning, an unspoken law you’re breaking by entertaining your feelings and the bubbling sentiments you hold for her close to your heart. You know better than to keep it so close, but the halo in her eyes blinds you to reason and you let it. 

“It’s Violet but you can call me whatever you want, sweets.” 

You chuckle at the pet name. 

“Just one night. That’s it. Just to get it out of our system.” 

“One night, sweets. It’s all I need.” 

— 

It’s how you ended up here, the third night in a row since the first, trapped under the web of Vi and her eager mouth. Slender, perfectly sculpted fingers feel like a hex to your cunt, every moment causing you to fall further into her spell. To say she has a certain talent would be considered an understatement. It’s clear Vi’s enjoying herself, fuck, damn near suffocates herself in your weeping cunt. Last night wasn’t nearly enough, she needs to have you, again. Not that you were complaining. 

As much as you hate to admit it, there has been no one as generous as her. As good as her, as sweet, as kind, and she did whatever the hell you asked for. Nothing has beaten the first night, her thumping clit nudging against your as she hiked one of your legs over her toned shoulders. 

It’s not a secret how built she is, far from it, but it’s another thing entirely to watch her flexed bicep ripple with every grind of her hips. Each movement seems to be calculated with precision, focused on doing more than just making herself feel good. With pure determination, glazed over crystal blue eyes, and a pouty scarred lip, she makes sure you’re enjoying this as much as her. With each moan you let slip, her confidence only grows until she’s commanded full control over you. She takes what she wants from you and in return you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, constellations created in the shape of her name as you come. 

“That’s it pretty girl, just for me, yeah?” Vi talks you through  as she works you through your orgasm with her strong hips, not stopping even after you’ve cum. She wants more and Vi pulls three more orgasms out of you before she’s done for the night. You expected her to be good. There was no shocker there but you didn’t expect her to be so sweet afterwards. Vi is a drunk, an addict, whether she wants to accept it or not. You could be just another object she’s addicted to. Somehow, you convince yourself it’s just a one time thing. It doesn’t mean anything, it won’t. 

Truthfully it feels much more than just a one night stand, more than an itch being scratched — the blossoming ache in your soul feels tethered to your heart every time Vi makes you feel an ounce of love — even when she tries to hide it behind a wall. Whether you’re aware, the wall can’t seem to stop crumbling. Brick by brick, it’s coming undone just as you have. Weak-willed and with purpose, you fall into her. 

There isn’t an inch of your body Vi didn’t kiss. Her lips tattooing every inch of your skin with marked affection, almost as if she’s mending your skin with the burn of her lips. When she claims your soft lips, haunting you with the salvation of perfection as her velvet tongue invades your mouth, the taste of you melting from her tongue to yours. The silent declaration you didn’t ask for but craved, the carnal moan leaving her mouth as she chuckles when your hips pathetically grind into hers. 

Vi enjoys your company, that much is clear, but this time you bring her to your place. It’s more or less the same. Both of you coming down from the highest of highs, you feel sticky, dirty, and damn right heavenly. Vi disappears into your bathroom, grabbing a wash rag before dampening the material underneath a warm faucet. Carefully, she kneels by your hips, legs twitching softly as her skilled fingers find your slit before Vi’s sucking the digit in your mouth. 

“I just wanted one last taste before I clean you up.” 

As she has before, Vi makes good on her promise and cleans you up. She enjoys when the pad of her thumb grazes against your clit, terribly overstimulated, your stomach twitches. All Vi can do is chuckle. 

“I’m just a little—” 

“Sensitive?” Vi smirks as you hide your face in the palm of her hands, the pad of her thumb gently caressing your skin.  

It’s the lightest she’s felt in weeks. Almost as if she’s floating on a cloud, she wants to stay up there in the cloudiest of nines. Just you and her and an aging mattress as she offers you everything she can give. Albeit, it isn’t much but she’ll still freely give. 

Like a dog with a bone, Vi corners you on the third night when it’s just you and her in the bar. Closing time has long since arrived and vanished into the crisp air of the night but Vi has you bent over the bar, desperation clawing at the weathered countertop of the bar as Vi’s fingers fucks your pretty little hole while her tongue laps at the slick that’s dripping out of you. Your pretty little skirt pushed up, your panties pushed to the side as she laps and sucks at your juices. She can feel you dripping onto her chin and it only makes her that much more eager to swallow every bit you have to offer. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this—” Fuck. Vi starts doing tricks with her tongue, sliding in another finger, pushing against the soft spot buried deep as she toys with you in the way knows best. “We, um, Vi we said just one night.” 

“Shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl. Or did you forget?” Vi moans into your cunt, the vibrations causing your thighs to shake under her mouth. “It’s not like you were complaining last night.” 

Vi silences you as her pace picks up, her fingers fucking you at such a pretty pace, feeling the build grow in the pit of your stomach edging to come to a full bloom. 

All of you begging for it to be released. Vi uses her free hand to slap your ass, sending you moaning and lurching forward. You push yourself back grinding against her tongue, before she removes her divine mouth as she kisses up your spine, her fingers stuffed inside you not faltering for a moment. 

Vi continues to kiss up your spine until she reaches the nape of your neck, her breath kissing your skin, your body shivers into her touch. Full lips ghost over your ear before whispering quietly, “Are you sure you want me to stop? I will if you want me to. I just thought you might wanna, you know, take my cock tonight. Give it a good ride.” 

The moan you let out would put Aphrodite’s to shame, needy and choked sobs escape you as her fingers thrust inside you faster than they have before. 

“Oh? Do you like the sound of that, babygirl? Want to show me how good you can be for me?” Vi doubled down on her efforts, enjoying how much you arched into her body, your hips pushing back as you grind into quick fingers. She’s fucking you better than well…anyone. 

“Vi, please.” Your voice catches in your throat, hoarse and full of need. An insatiable craving; one you fear only she can provide. A few mindless days and careless flirting to land in her sheets, her in yours, the details didn’t truly matter. A vampire out for blood, almost more venomous than precious canines breaking the skin, you yearned to suck on every last drop. But she didn’t seem to be in a mind frame to relinquish control. 

“Please what? I’m not sure if I understand you.” 

All of it, so tantalizing, so fucking infuriating. Three fingers inside you, effectively making you silent, shutting you up as she brings you closer to the edge. That’s the thing, truthfully, Vi has you right where she wants. Only a few thrusts away until you come undone around her. The black haired succubus increases the pace, thumb playing with your clit, her calloused fingers increasing your high as she applies more pressure on the thousands of nerve endings on your precious pearl. 

“Shit. You’re gonna pay for this.” 

“What? For making you come? I hardly constitute that as a crime.” 

Your hands reach for the counter top, you’re not sure what exactly you want, but Vi makes you come for the first time that night. It’s a game, the push and pull. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Some disposition falling far from your fingertips, a game to her and a downward hill spiral for you. Addiction festering next to an open wound and the only antidote can be found on her tongue. Tasting the devil’s mouth is one thing but swallowing the sensation of the woman you’re beginning to love is something else entirely. 

Vi, despite her best efforts not to, makes you fall over the edge. It’s more than her eager tongue and expectant mouth slurping at the vindication of your taste. The craving builds like an exposed vein. Her confidence irrevocably soars like a raven through the midnight sky. Even if Vi acts like she’s done this before, you could pull the curiosity intertwined with naivety a mile away. Violet has never done this before, not with a woman at least, you’re sure of it. She’s a fast learner and such a great accomplishment should replenish such a reward. 

With the energy you have left, you push your skirt down first, as Vi puts your underwear back in place. She doesn’t stop touching you. She can’t. There isn’t much she feels she has control over, this arrangement being one of them. She’s good at this and Vi enjoys it. Every other part of her life, failure surrounds her, her ability not to please anyone in her life. 

In a constant loop, she finds herself caught in the crossfire. Tugged between sister and lover, family and righteousness. Her enemy becomes her lover and lover becomes enemy — all of it poisons her blood and cures her core — and all of it makes her hear a voice she doesn’t recognize but it’s just as true as the four walls surrounding her. 

Oil and water. 

Collecting like scars on her porcelain skin, Vi feels herself sink like an obliterating star. There’s a wonder settled in her chest, it feels heavy and weak, two incapable fists unable to surround her heart with anything but loss, betrayal even. She can’t punch her way out of this one.

All of it wakes a fire in her chest, a dagger being punctured in her heart by the one Vi thought she could trust the most. She doesn’t want to admit it so she doesn’t. 

But this? It feels easy. 

She needs easy, light, even good. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it. 

Vi definitely doesn’t, the sentence flows like a never-ending stream of waterfall continuously drowning her. The blood on her hands stains her perception of all things pure, she wonders how she even sees you at all. How you see her more vividly than anyone, possibly even Cait. There’s no judgment, no snarky remark of where she comes from. Even if she thought there had once been love, Vi questions it now. 

When you come, it feels like a breath of fresh air, a golden wave washing over her sinful hands. Each stroke of gold, your grit and blind hopefulness soaks Vi’s entity. This is what she wants. There’s nothing more than this, someone she could love, who loves her. It’s uncomplicated but the feeling flees as you come to it. Vi can’t help but feel regretful as you cover your ass, it’s such a pretty sight. She can’t stop that she’s greedy, you’ve fed her for the first time in her life and now Vi feels full but she’s only human. 

A sinner always craves more. 

She lets her touch linger on the gold between your thighs, pushing the white substance back into you before Vi lets you feel how wet you are, the dripping slick feels uncomfortable caged into cotton underwear and she wants you to feel it. The breath Vi hears are still heavy, impossibly heavy, and there’s pride in hearing you center yourself, back pressed against her chest as Vi keeps you in place. 

The pleasure within your body begins to slither away as you come back into the angel you are and not the sexual deviant bent over the woman who never pulls her punches. 

“Felt good, yeah?” Vi says. Her angelic, sweeter than the cotton candy stick in your teeth, voice penetrates through. You like it too much. It shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. Desperately, you want to keep this casual but you’re even losing your footing. 

You pride yourself on the lack of attachment; you don’t need it. Never really had. But then with her it seems to change even faster than the seasons, your wall breaks somehow in between from spring to summer. With intent, you move around, her bright eyes have darken a bit but the fading light looks brighter than you’ve ever seen it. 

Fuck, Vi is making this difficult. 

“You could say that.” You speak softly, a tremble in your voice occurs but Vi says nothing but she does smirk. “Can I ask you something?” 

You turn around and suddenly Vi is staring at your exposed cleavage, the one you use to draw in patreons and to fill your pockets with as many tips as one can muster. Vi had been one, a faithful one trying to drink her away to the bottom of every bottle until she found something else for her. Something that didn’t leave a burn in her throat. 

“What is it?” 

“Was it your first time? The first night?” 

Sheepishly, Vi blushes. For a second, she contemplates lying but you’d see right through it. Right through her. It would only take one look in her blues and you would know. 

“That obvious?” Vi struggles with her words next but she manages to murmur a lame excuse. “Stillwater didn’t leave much time for this.” 

“And after?” You tease but the sincerity in your eyes soothes her. 

“There could have been but there wasn’t. Some things just don’t fit.” Oil and water is what she wants to say but she bites her tongue. 

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have been so, I don’t know, selfish?” 

“There’s nothing selfish about it. I wanted to make you feel good. Did you enjoy yourself?” This time she makes your skin feel hot. Fuck. 

“Yeah, I did enjoy myself,” you pressed against her as your arms loop around Vi’s necks to bring her closer “but I think it’s officially my turn to offer my services. Don’t you think so?” 

It’s how Vi ends up here, in your place, in your bed — soaked. 

If there was one thing you knew, it was how to please someone. You managed to pull whimpers out of her she didn’t even know existed. The desperate plea coming from her shivering body as she spilled in your mouth the first time sent a shiver down her spine, the band in her stomach snapping as you sloppily spit on her cunt, constant circles of pressure on her clit seeing nothing but your eyes look up at her. 

Not letting a single drop go to waste, you fucked Vi through it, swallowing her completely. Vi shed the wrap covering her chest next. Her body bruised from the pit fights but you couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than her. You paid attention to her collarbones, neck, and her tits. Sucking on her nipples as Vi tries to come down from the high you placed her on, she doesn’t think she ever will. 

She tries not to think that she wanted these things with Caitlyn. Cait. Cupcake. 

Vi only allows herself to think of her when she’s dreaming, visions of what that could have been, what she used to be. All of it so trivial, so senseless when she thinks of you. How you make her feel is different and she tries not to think of what it all means. 

One night. 

Then two. 

Now three. 

In another life, maybe she was stronger, and didn't need to be wanted. Hell, even needed. She could wait for someone who she thought loves her but the other part of her doesn’t want to think, she wants to feel. Vi likes feeling the softness of your skin, the light in your laughter, the swell of your exposed chest, the way your greedy eyes take in her abs, your soft lips kissing every part of her skin. The smooth, the scarred, the unworthy — you take it all in such stride. 

“Do you want to stop? I think I lost you for a second.” You inquire to the pretty girl beneath you, her hands find your waist, creating makeshift circles on your hip bones. 

“No, that’s the last thing I want.” Vi brings you to her lips, capturing your bottom lip, tongue invading your mouth. She tastes herself as your tongue melts with hers and the rest of her worries melt away. It’s just you and her. “I want to keep going.” 

“Then tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do whatever you want. It’s yours if you want it.” 

It’s spoken as a reminder. All of this is her decision. Vi decides when she wants this, how she wants it, and you’re letting her take all of it in the way she needs. Vi tried not to think the first couple times, she never wanted her first time to be a big deal. Maybe with Caitlyn it could have been, but then she changed. 

Vi thought maybe she could too. So, she did. 

“Can you—” Vi stutters. Yet again her attention gets pulled to your tits, the softness of your stomach, she can’t stop looking at you. As if she’s trying to remember everything about you. She’s committed to it. Vi wants to remember the soft curves of your hips, the way you moan when she comes on your tongue. 

The sight of you looking down at her makes she lose every rational thought, she wants to commit to memory forever. It won’t be something she easily forgets. 

“Gotta speak up, babygirl. Especially if you want me to keep my attention focused on this pretty cunt of yours.” 

You sit between her legs, tilting your head, you look at her glistening pussy, the way it shines with her cum and your sloppy spit. It would look even more exquisite with a little more. Taking a beat as you take your time, you gather enough in your mouth before spitting slowly, Vi whimpering as your spit makes contact with her lower pair of lips. She couldn’t stop it, it slips and you’re grinning, hips desperately bucking to feel more of it. 

“F-Fuck, need your cock. Please? I need it more than anything.” Vi confesses. There’s no need for dignity, especially if she keeps it and you won’t give her what she’s itching for. 

“Yeah? Are you sure about it? Don’t want you backing out just in case you can’t be a good girl and take it.” 

She can take it but she can’t take the countless teasing, trapped underneath the images drowning in her mind. This is what she wants, someone to dissolve into her, make her forget everything that has happened, just a pretty girl with some pretty tits who knows how to fuck. Right? That’s all this is. It’s all it can be tonight. Her lip is busted from the fight tonight, knuckles bloodied and bruised, but you don’t seem to mind all that much. It’s all the same to you. Vi is all the same, that’s been clear from the start. 

Then, she decides to let her mind get shut off, let herself fall into you. You did know how to take care of her and tonight she would let you. 

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” 

“I promise.” 

Once the harness is on, you wedge yourself in between her thighs, tattooed and toned, brave and brawny but she transforms into someone else entirely once you’re sinking inside her warm walls. You think about what it would feel like to feel her. Is she clenching around your cock? Would you feel the throbbing heartbreak of her clit? What you can hear is the whimper, uncontrollable and breathtaking, you slip further into her as you make home in her beautiful cunt. 

She’s made it yours to take. You’d do anything and everything for her, the thought alone scares so you do what you do best, you grind your hips slowly. Not wanting to overwhelm her too quickly, it’s the first time she’s taking penetration and you want it to be good for her. 

“You’re so perfect. Doing so good for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.” You whisper out, taking too much enjoyment in her getting lost in your soft thrusts. Vi’s chest starts to heave as her hips roll into yours. Vi never even imagined wanting this, or that she could really have it with someone else. It’s not like she’s experienced, she has nothing to compare it to, but it feels incredibly intimate. 

She likes how you’re being with her. Soft, gentle, delicate. Vi thought she’d never want to feel that way, but maybe it’s just under the right circumstance in the right light. 

“Shit, shit, shit” Vi chants as your hand grabs the headboard, giving her one particular powerful thrust. Perky tits spring to life, jolting against the sudden movement, her moan so fucking load, as you continue your movements. This time not as hard, but you pick up your pace, wanting to see if she would have any arguments against it but Vi doesn’t. Profanities and whimpers leave her mouth as you split her on your cock. Face half-smashed into the pillow, trying to muffle her moans and you offer this one mercy. 

She’s still shy. 

Now is a good time as any to fuck it out of her. 

“Do you want more Vi? Want me to go…faster?” Placing a hand on her abdomen, the abs defined and clenching as you halt your thrust for a moment. “Do you wanna feel me in your stomach, baby?” 

“Can you even do that? I’m not so sure you’re even capable. Looks like the rookie knows more moves than the veteran.” Vi bites back. But it doesn’t last for long. Vi thinks she must have said the wrong thing, pushed you too far, you slipped off her but only to move her body to the edge of the bed, placing her on all fours right in front of a very convenient mirror. 

“Fine. Thought I’d be sweet but that isn’t what you really want. If you want to get treated like a whore, I’ll fuck you like one.” You take a beat to appreciate her wonderfully sculpted back, the artwork is truly exquisite. It feels so much like her but the foolish girl is smirking at you through the mirror. 

You know you’ve been caught ogling at her body, checking out every inch of her exposed body, you slap her ass in retaliation but she just grinds her ass back onto you. 

“I’m waiting.” Teasingly, Vi arches her spine more. “Where’s the whore fucking you’re muling about?” 

In one move, you’re inside her, fucking her beautiful face into the mattress. Never in her life has she felt so full, so good, so sweet. You grab her by the meat of her hips, bringing you back on her repeatedly. Vi wonders what she would give to have this, have you, and the thought scares her just as badly. She instead focused on you. 

Tits bouncing as you thrust into her at a punishing pace. Divinely and so perfectly you, making her see stars, she feels trapped. Not in a punishing way, but in a way that has her never wanting to leave the entrapments of your coaxing cock. At this moment, this is where she’s meant to be, just a toy for you to use. 

But it’s more than what meets the eye. If Vi was just a toy, you’d be done after the first night. Tonight, you weren’t using her for your own pleasure. You seemed perfectly content to give. The shine in her eyes gave you something only she could, edging you even further, a constant wave hitting Vi like a tidal wave making home on the shore. 

“God, you’re just too perfect. Fuck, just like that, take what’s yours.” Bouncing back on the strap, the words fall from her lips before she can’t stop them. Overflowing like a water fountain, it’s before she really even realizes what she’s saying, it just feels right. 

“Mommy, please.” 

Vi has had those words on the tip of her tongue but not that you’re fucking her into a different dimension, she lets the aching plea slip from sinful lips. It’s only once but it’s enough to set you off. You pull Vi up, her gorgeous back pressed against your chest, sitting on your thighs as you fuck up into her. Brutally, she takes everything you have to give. 

Sweat glistening across her body, accentuating her chest as she tries to compose herself  but you don’t give her the option. No. It would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

“I want you to watch, Violet. Watch yourself when you cum, be a good girl and show me how pretty you look, hm? Wouldn’t wanna disappoint, Mommy, now would you?” 

Vi sucks on your middle digit, tongues swirling as she feels the tight band in her stomach, threatening to snap. She’s close. When the sensationally soft pad of your thumb applies pressure on her clit, Vi’s done for. 

“Shit, oh my fucking god, baby baby babbyyyyy.” Incoherent murmurs and moans come in abundance as Vi bounces herself your cock, falling right apart as you toy with her clit, fucking her through the impending high. Your other arm tweaks around and up, fingers squeezing her tits, over stimulating her as she slumps against you. 

It’s the easiest task ever done. Submit to you, your skilled fingers, the power of your sinfully sensational thrusts, she comes all over you. The powerful demeanor weakens before your very eyes. When you gently move her back on the bed, slipping out of her, Vi’s eyes begin to water from the loss. 

The first time getting strapped down is always a lot to handle, you’d still taken it easier on her, too afraid you would push her too far but by the blissed out eyes, she’d enjoyed herself. She had enjoyed herself and you couldn’t really ask for much more. 

When the both of you are cleaned up, Vi cuddles into your frame and you let her. Even if your first instinct is to push her away, saying something you know that’ll hurt her, none of it finds any merit on your tongue. For the first time, you find it difficult to turn away a pretty girl, her lips kissing your collarbones, up your neck until she finds home on your own lips, sloppily invading your mouth with your tongue. 

Hitting you where it hurts, she moans your name in her mouth, unable to contain the neediness she feels around you. It’s worse than Cait. This is pure addiction entangled with something carnal. Vi knows if she doesn’t get to fuck you again, you fucking her cunt again, she might as well give up on life now. 

“I could go again.” 

You chuckle. Of course she could. 

“Don’t know rookie, that might be all you can handle for the night.” 

It’s a challenge and you know she’ll bite the bait. 

With ease she gets on top of you, and just as if she’s done it a hundred times, Vi sinks on your cock, “I think I can handle another ride, don’t you?” 

[vincinnamontoast]

HIII OMG IDK IF UR TAKING REQUESTS (OR IF THIS COUNTS AS ONE??) BUT I CANT WAIT FOR ANY OF YOUR VI FICS 🙏 LIKE OK IM SAT 🪑 YOURE GONNA SLAY!!

sweet consumption ꒰ა♡໒꒱

goddess vi! x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: honestly not really much of a plot besides vi and reader being in love and obsessed with each other.

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

CONTAINS: smut!, cannibalism as a form of expression, consensual choking, mentions of blood and slight violent actions, religious overtones. p.s I always try to keep clothing and reader’s physical descriptions out of my stories, so readers can resonate with it more. but for this story, reader wears a dress. kind of proofread ? act 3 vi!

AUTHORS NOTE: ^^ omg thank you so much love <3! you’re so sweet, that does mean sm! ! also if you guys want to listen to the audio I had playing to set the vibe I wanted (specifically the first 3mins), here it is <3 https://youtu.be/pdmLj1mkslA?si=XhaI2_E2Sm485mhN I was meaning to post this before act 3 but oh well.

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.¨*:·.∴

the soft piano traveled throughout the corridors as you sat toying with the edge of your silky, sage dress - eagerly waiting for your presence to be requested. the smooth, dark marble beneath your feet caught your attention. you swore it swirled in little patterns right before your eyes. the walls of her quarters were coated with various meaningful art pieces and the pillars stood tall where beautiful women were chiseled into the top and bottom. her love and respect for women —for her community, was so admirable. before your mind could wander farther, you were interrupted.

“our goddess, violet, requests you.” a fellow angel proclaims as they seep into your view.

'our goddess?' your mind repeats. It was true. she was a goddess of the people and of the angels. she portrayed that in the most genuine way. however, you still couldn't fight the slight nerve to be a bit possessive. you nodded and smiled to the woman dressed in a silky emerald gown, their wings slightly curled around their hips. taking a deep yet staggered breath, you walk down the corridor that lead to violet's chamber. soon enough, you stood before her arched door. It was vast and encased in fuschia and black jewels. gems and crystals in their purest form blended perfectly above, as gold curled around the edges of the large door frame. before you could even bring your fist up to grab at her door chime, it swings open gently. she sensed you.

It was dark in her chambers. your eyes waited to adjust to it as the fireplace was the only source of light. the soft gothic piano contrasted the crackling of the fireplace. this genre of piano soothed vi’s nerves. your eyes averted as slight movement was caught in your peripheral. and then...you are met with her. she stood right before her large windowsill - it portraying a perfect view of the nightlife that was her domain and the beautiful river encompassing it. she was beyond alluring, truly. words could not describe violet's beauty. for she was the prettiest and the strongest goddess there was. the handsomest soldier that would ever fight on the battle field.

her pinkish red hair peppered with streaks of black, like fire and ash, rested over her right side. her blue eyes like stained glass that always outed her every emotion never failed to capture you. her freckles kissed upon her nose and cheeks like a field of wildflowers in april. oh how cute she was when she scrunched her nose when upset or angry. violet was revered in her looks by the other celestial beings, but they doubted her ideals. violet. sweet violet. her heart so gentle but her face stern. she stood for peace—for equality. but she tended to get too passionate in protecting others and standing for what she believed in. the other goddess's teased her about her name. vi for violence. some pretty butch brute with too much power they'd say. she wished they'd respect her name. and how you wished they would know her. violet. sweet violet. vi.

“you're staring again. hmmm and nor did you acknowledge me when you came into my quarters." she pouts, inching closer to your still being. her hips swayed gently as she walked down the little steps, fists at her side. so ready to protect, like she always was. her beauty put you in a trance as your eyes adjust to the glow of her bronzed freckled skin.

"I'm sorry, my love. It's darker in here than usual." the words jumbled out nervously as the luminescence of her eyes consumed you.

she gently drug her fingertips against the apple of your cheeks. "mmm I am in a mood of sorts today. what do you have for me, beautiful?"

your words caught in your throat and your body shivered. angel's were only allowed to see their goddess' once a month to report to them. you were violet's trusted designated angel that gave her updates of information that she needed to rule her domain, so naturally you saw her a bit more often. the lack of her presence made your yearning beyond intense. the only angel and being that vi had ever touched and she made that clear constantly. but why were you so special? you doubt you'd ever ask. to even be breathing the same air as her was a blessing so you never dare question her.

"I brought all angel reports for last month as well as letters from the goddess's. they seem to have important news to share with you." you nodded, too nervous to glance into her eyes. she loved how nervous she made you.

"so obedient, my sweet girl. I will have to get to it all later." she curls her fingers under your chin. "come.”

she steps away from you to sit on her velvet claudette chaise lounge. she gazes at you intently - waiting. her eyes were warning you as she was often impatient. you walk towards her gently on the tip of your toes. you could never seem to get used to her intensity. she just stares at you often. it's a bit creepy, but you know she is just curious and expressive. reading vi through her eyes was easy for you. she was intrigued.

you kneeled before her as her leg peers out from the slit in her grey throw over dress. she nudges it out to you gently as invitation for you to touch her. as they open, it exposes a delicious amount of her skin that you wanted to just devour. slowly, you bring your hands to glide up her leg. her soft skin feels electric and you swear every muscle in your body relaxed after you touched her. closing your eyes, you nudge your cheek into her skin. you locked eyes as you kiss up her leg, lifting yourself to make your pecks to the inside of her thigh. the feeling of her smooth creamy skin was enticing, the smell of her. vanilla, musk, firewood —brown sugar. the way she was lent back, looking down at you with her legs spread wide was so seductive and sensuous. her arm hung over the couch and the other gently grazed your hair as you nipped at her inner thigh. she had stretch marks on her hips and a bit on her inner thigh. you kissed at them gently. the soft chuckle she let out made your ears ring. goodness. she made you weak.

your breathing got heavier as you inched closer between her dress and to her core. your fingers snake through and move it aside. no underwear. looking up at her, she slightly smiles and blushes. "I was waiting for you — I always do." she breathes out like a whisper.

your cheeks turn a fiery shade of pink. you were then blessed with the sight of her beautiful flower. the heat and scent of her core was close to sending you into a frenzy. tufts of pink hair and puffy lips. you were addicted to her. to her taste. your mouth started to salivate. she bit at her lip and opened her legs wide as if inviting you to enjoy her delicacy. your arms curled around her thick thighs as you grip the soft skin. you press your lips to her clit and suckle. like sweet butter, she melts in your mouth. the sweet but salty taste of her made your toes curl. she was glowing. she threw her head back and her hair flowed over the soft velvet couch. gentle wisps of her hair danced over her lips from her desperate panting. she lets out a gentle moan and entangled her fingers writhin your hair. the feeling of her pussy tangled around your tongue was enough to send you into psychosis. you dug your face into her gently as you could not seem to get close enough. curling and twisting your tongue around her, she panted and whimpered little praises.

her moans increasingly got louder. she was always so vocal. and to say you loved it was an understatement. soft as a harp, her moans flowed through your ears like a gentle river. like a song that soothed your soul. shoving your face into her cunt, your mission was to devour. the feeling of her on your tongue — on your finger tips. her moans, her voice. you were made for her, to please her. to give her the love that she deserved as your goddess. she was under appreciated. you are so deep in thought you failed to realize how tight your grip had become on her shaking thighs. she was overstimulated, yelping and arching her back. she attempted to gently move you. pulling away from her gasp, you muster out, “my goddess. please forgive me. I got carried away. I-“

gripping your cheeks softly, she shoved you back on your knees. her face followed yours closely. "oh how i missed you." she growled.

hearts swam in your eyes. drool and her sweet slick coated your lips and the area surrounding. you look dumbed out. her body was a drug. she was your drug. sweet violet. without the hold she had on your face, you'd fall. she licked at your throat as her calloused fingertips drug your dress down your body. she softly grazed her tongue over the edge of her teeth. she gripped your hips and drug her hands all over your body. the need she had for you was insatiable. untamed, disgusting, and full of teeth. she would kill and stain her hands with blood of the innocent for you. and that was a lot to put down as a goddess for her people. but the way she needed you was vile. the yearn she had for you made her sick. sick and rotted with desire. need. you. a mere angel. nothing compared to her. oh but you were.

her lips captured yours quickly. immediately her tongue swallows yours. her lips were succulent like ripe grapes. to kiss vi was to be refreshed, replenished. revived. crawling down to your level, on the floor, she kneeled with you. not once did she slow her pace and stop the movement of her lips on yours. a kiss was the beginning to her cannabilism. she was kneeling with you. someone as gorgeous and high being as her sat on the dirty floor tangled in front of you. your saliva mixing and tainting her own. she didn't care. your differences didn't make her ill. she was a goddess who could love who she pleased, but she could tell this made you uneasy.

"my love. the floor." you pulled away from the kiss, gently cupping her flushed freckled cheeks. her eyes shone such a radiant blue. she was content.

"I am not above sitting on a dirty floor. I've been in worse. and for you — I would lick the filth from your skin with the blade of my tongue." she whispered, licking the shell of your ear. her cool breath sent shivers down your spine and your heart sunk.

both of her hands held your cheeks, as she curled her tongue over your lips. she pecks them gently and then again, glides her tongue over the plump of your lips. your mouth slightly parted with the pressure and need for her mouth on yours. before you could give into her kiss, she pulls away swiftly. nodding her head in the direction of her sleeping quarters. "on the bed."

you sway your naked body away from her, making your way to her giant canopy. sitting on the edge of the bed, you softly grip her black silky sheets. vi sashays towards the edge where you were and pushes you softly into the middle. standing tall, she drops her dress off of her shoulder. all you could do was stare at her awe. her biceps tensed slightly with her breathing. her subtle abs shone in the light covered in minimal sweat. her tits sat perfectly and exposed. her collar bone, sharp and tempting. the scars painted on her body. her pussy on display and so enticing. again. you could happily die between her legs. everything she did had your pussy melting and pulsating. she crawls towards you and kisses up your body slowly. not breaking eye contact once. she drags her canines against your calf and presses gently, making her way up to your lips.

she’s perfectly above you now, stopping at your face. your eyes are captured in hers and you can’t look away. you smacked your lips onto hers and she burst into a giggle as you peck her lips over and over. pulling away, you let her catch her breath and rub your fingers against her face. you press a kiss to her forehead, her nose, the apple of her cheeks, her eyelids, chin, and then her lips again. then you kiss her hands again, and again, and again. she didn’t like her hands. you knew that. but every sliver of her was perfect to you. she presses her forehead to yours as she gnaws at her lip.

"I want to feel you. to let go with you.”

before you can process a single thought, she eagerly parts your legs wide and squats herself above your cunt. you can feel everything. like her soul and her bones were intertwining with yours. her pussy slid against yours. gripping your legs, she quickens her pace. every touch of her hands on your skin sent your body into shivers. you craved her. you wanted vi to use her calisoused fingers to pry your ribs open and lick your heart and your bones. to live inside of you to protect herself. to connect your organs and become one. to be loved by vi was to be consumed by her. you’re snatched back into reality at the loud sounds of the both of your moans blending together like symphony. she gripped at you like she could not live without her claws and bare teeth sunken into your skin. you chant her name like a prayer, her eyes rolling into her head as all she can think about is you. the sound of you. your skin. your flesh. you. she attempted to cage you in so you couldn't move away from her.

"oh baby i know." she groans into your ear as you whimper closer to your release.

the primal desire for you was unquenchable. she can feel you pulsating against her, she knew you were close. so was she. her right hand tangles around your throat as she begins to squeeze. your eyes rolled so far into your head and all circulation began to cut off. and by the goddess's near, this was the most amazing feeling. to die by violet’s hands. the way she is touching you and staring into your soul. it wasn’t pain. it felt like freedom.

"you belong to me, say it. please." her eyes turn soft and tear up. they were like a gentle void, a void of so much emotion. your vision started to turn white and you could only feel her engulfing you. your orgasms overtaking the both of you like wildfire. you could feel the electricity from her fingertips coursing through your veins and your blood. she loosens her grip as you gasp for air. every touch of hers on your body like a cold breeze. the beautiful pit that was her eyes enveloped you. you both stare at each other in a pant.

"we are all yours, vi." you giggle, referring to the angels and her terrain. gently, she collapses on your chest. you graze your fingers against her back, tracing her tattoos.

she hums, "mmm but they are not." she looks up at you, curling your hair between her fingers. "you are. and for you, i am my rawest form. the yearn I have for you is too much. It hurts." she pauses, and takes a deep breath. "I hate when you walk out that door."

her eyes are entangled in yours. the other celestial’s would say that the love between an angel and a goddess was unruly and dangerous. that didn't matter to you. nor did it matter to vi. they don't know what it was like to kneel at her alter. to be loved and wanted by her. they have not heard her gentle giggles and murmurs throughout every kiss. they haven’t seen her wide set grin and the smile lines surrounding her heart shaped lips. nor have they tasted her divine fruit. they haven't gazed into her eyes and seen right through her heart. to be loved by vi was to be consumed by her.

“my love and loyalty has always lied with you, my sweet violet.” and into her lips, you collide. underneath the fiery touch of vi’s fingertips, you become poetry.

AUTHORS NOTE: ugh yes…cannibalism as symbolism for lesbian love and obsession again>>> of course, it’s literally my favorite and if you get it, you get it :3 anyways, caitvi scene made me scream as hell. everything made me scream and cry omfg. so many thoughts. If you’re reading this, have a great day, night or evening! mwuahhh <33 hope you liked !

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter II

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 1.8k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), More tags to be added (!)

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

thank you all so much for the love on the first chapter. we delve a little bit into their backstory now (gladiator II is set around 211 AD). feel free to let me know if you are interested in reading how these two get to where we picked up before <3 i also have a little acacius playlist that fits the vibe of this fic very well. feel free to check it out here!

vestal (vigins) - priestesses of vesta, virgin goddess of Rome's sacred flame (details will be explained later in the story) dulcissima - sweetest (fond nickname) domus - a roman house palla - a traditional mantle for women paludamentum - a cloak worn by high ranking military officials

Chapter II

209 AD

The domus sits just on the edge of Palatine Hill, on the side opening towards the Forum Romanum and Via Nova. You have passed below it more times than you can count, though you have rarely walked the small street that weaves up the hill and leads to the edge of the property.

Many of the neighboring houses are too harsh for your taste, with columns twice as wide as your body and barely a shrub of greenery in front of them. A supposed sign of strength, no doubt. But when passing the house with the large garden, you like to take as much time as you dare, occasionally catching a whiff of the lavender that grows all around it.

It reminds you of the shadowy figure you often saw walking those same gardens after dark, many years past. A bereaved woman, shrouded in dark cloth, keeping her head down as she tended to the plants with dainty fingers, decorated with a thick gold ring that framed a green stone. You remember lingering too long on your way past the iron fence once, fascinated by the way her dress flowed in the wind. She had called out to you, beckoning you towards her.

Lucilla was not a terrifying woman but you knew that every misstep could cost you, especially in your position as a vestal. She had knelt down in front of your trembling form, brushed your hair out of your face and looked at you with an expression you did not understand. But she had whispered words that you did. Asked you not to collect the water after dark, to stay with the older vestals. Then she had offered you a small bundle of lavender.

You stuffed it under the linen of your bed later that night, breathing in a scent that felt like a world where a woman could freely roam her garden and the city beyond, who did not have to be afraid.

The guard at the gate gives a small bow of courtesy when you reach him and moves to the side, allowing you to tread the stone path that leads up to the house. “The General is inside. Please, knock.”

A gentle “Thank you” escapes your lips as you reach to lift your stola just enough to not step on it. The torches lining the way are extinguished, not needed during the day. A short glance down the hill allows you to spot your own home, right beside the rounded building that is the Temple of Vesta.

When you reach the wooden door, you raise your hand and will yourself to knock with enough force to make it heard.

You can hear someone calling out from inside and a few seconds later, a man with broad shoulders opens the door. His gaze flies over you briefly–taking in your white tunic and the palla wrapped around your shoulders. The thin veil attached to your headdress and all the linen of your clothes tucked neatly into place are usually enough indication for whoever is stood in front of you to understand your status.

“General Acacius?” You ask softly, your eyes taking in his brown eyes and the curve of his nose, one that looks like it belongs on a statue rather than a living man.

“Vero, that is me. Please, come inside.” He gives a small bow, gesturing past himself and you nod at the invitation, gracefully stepping into the house and finding yourself in an atrium that renders you speechless. The columns that line its sides are slightly worn, flowers stretching along them towards the upper floor. Stone basins and pots holding a variety of plants stand at almost every corner of the open space, making it feel more like a garden than the stuck-up room you would have expected in a Generals home.

Acacius’s hand hovers behind you, guiding you past the fountain that holds a few orange fish and to the opposite end of the open room, though he never actually touches you. “Please. Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” you repeat your earlier words, lowering yourself onto the chair he indicated.

“Would you like some wine? Perhaps some grapes too?” He waves to one of the servants, who promptly places two glasses on the table, though Acacius takes the carafe and dismisses him with a small nod as he begins to pour you some of the dark red liquid. You make to reach for your glass to hold it steady but he shakes his head quickly. “Allow me. Please.”

You nod at that, leaning back and waiting politely while he pours himself a drink as well. It allows you a moment to take in his form up close, the white tunic and his red paludamentum wrapped around his body. A cloak fastened with a gold brooch, one that–similar to your headwear–makes him a respected man no matter where he goes. You wonder if he feels the same about it, that some days it's more like a heavy curse weighing one down. Then again, he is a General of Rome. You are a priestess of Vesta. Your paths may cross today but you are certain they look very different from one another.

He sits down across from you, a small sigh leaving his lips as he toasts in your direction and takes a sip of his wine. Then, he leans to the side and produces two rolls of parchment. “I had to make some adjustments to my will. It was kept by one of your sisters, but I believe she has finished her service with the Vestals since I last saw her.”

You give him a small smile as you take the parchment from him, nodding. “Yes, she left the year before last. But of course I will be just as happy to keep the will for you.”

His eyes fly over your face briefly and he gestures to the rolls on your lap. “I crossed out the old version. I married, you see.”

You stare at him for a moment before nodding a little too quickly. “Of course. Yes, I–The lady of this house I presume–” You break off, realizing your mistake. If he indeed married Lucilla, he is now the head of this house. “What I meant–” you add hastily. “–is that it is your house now. And the house is beautiful, I mean–” It’s the second time you stop in the middle of the sentence. But this time, it is because you have dared to look back over at the General. And he is not even trying to conceal his amusement.

You bow your head in another silent apology and he tuts softly. “You are quite right, you know. As far as I am concerned, she is the woman of this house.” A smile plays around his lips. “And I would not have it any other way.”

It’s clearly not his atrium that surprises you. He is not what you would expect a General to be. Especially not one that is about to entrust you with his will. “I give my word that I will see it is stored safely,” you reassure him, carefully taking another small sip of the wine.

Acacius nods. “I appreciate that. You have my thanks.” He pauses briefly, his gaze darting around the atrium for a split second before landing back on you. “You seem uneasy. Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No. No, of course not, General.” It is not a lie, per se. But you are all too aware that it sounds like one.

“Is it your first time taking a will?”

You do not know how he does it. He seems to have read you so easily–or he is just very well connected to know such a thing. “Yes. It is, but I promise–”

“I trust you,” he states almost casually while reaching for the grapes and offering you some as well. You politely decline.

“Forgive me but … you met me mere moments ago. How can you know I am trustworthy?” Your eyes catch his and this time you hold his gaze, not missing the small glint in them.

“All of Rome trusts the Vestals. If not you, who would we put our faith into?”

“The gods. You should put your faith in the gods,” you say quietly.

“I prefer to put my faith in people,” Acacius responds, though his voice is slightly lowered as well. “The gods do not fight our wars.”

You stand up so abruptly that you almost drop the scrolls. “I should go.”

He seems perplexed for a moment but quickly catches himself and nods, standing up before leading you back the same way you came. You allow yourself a quick sideward glance at his face and are met with a professionally neutral expression. At the door, you turn towards him, giving a last, small bow. “My General.” His title falls off your lips like the silk they sell at the market, flowing effortlessly. His brown eyes lingering on you as you address him–even if normal custom–as yours, make your stomach clench slightly.

Acacius lets his hand hover beside you again, never quite touching you. Yet you almost seem to be able to feel his touch. “I did not mean offense.” His voice is much softer than it was when he greeted you.

“Of course.” You force yourself to smile and step away, shaking your head at the brief moment of confusion you allowed yourself. He is a General, you are a Vestal. He has sworn his vows and you have sworn yours. And both include promises that are enough to keep you at a few feets distance for several lifetimes. “Please, call for me if you ever need to make adjustments to the will. And–” You force yourself to smile a little wider. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

You turn around before he can speak again, suddenly wanting to put some distance between yourself and the house you so longed to see from inside–until you did.

***

211 AD

“You have to go, dulcissima.”

Acacius' voice is quiet, the back of his head resting against the stone pillar as he watches you drag the chaise lounge across the atrium, muttering under your breath when you have to maneuver it around the small fountain in the middle of the space.

“Please.”

You shake your head just as you reach him, gesturing for him to sit down. His begging breaks your heart–it always has. But the thought of leaving him here with open wounds is worse.

“Let me see your arm.” He doesn't move, forcing you to become a bit more stern. “Acacius. Let me see the arm. I am not leaving until you do.”

A curse slips out under his breath but he does as told, sitting down and allowing you to inspect his wound. The rustle of the chain on his ankle breaks the quiet as he moves and you pointedly ignore it as you crouch down in front of him.

You let your hand hover above his skin for a moment, taking a small breath. It is still difficult to break the rules you have been taught for so long sometimes. You tell yourself that this is not even a sin, that you are merely caring for a wounded Gladiator. It tricks your brain enough to lower your hand onto his skin. You do not believe it tricks Vesta.

“He should not have fought you,” you mumble quietly, thinking back to how Lucius was swinging away the moment he entered the arena.

“He did not understand. And it is how the Colosseum works, you know this.” Acacius mutters back, tensing slightly when you run your finger over the cut the sword left on his arm. It doesn't seem too deep but you know Acacius must be in much more pain than he lets on.

“I hate that place,” you whisper, surprising yourself with the force of your words. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you stiffen when you feel a calloused hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before brushing over your cheek.

“Oh, sweet,” he mutters, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “I am fine. I made it out, see? I promised I would.”

“They were going to shoot you,” you choke out, trying and failing to hold back the tears now slipping down your cheeks. You feel his lips touch the crown of your head briefly.

“But they didn't. Now, please, I will take care of this. But you have to leave.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand and shake your head again, blinking a few times to clear your vision and shift your attention back to his wound. “How would you take care of this? They have sentenced you to death. The Emperors have called for it, in front of the whole empire.”

“I can talk to them. I have things to offer, even now. They do not know how to lead an army. But they need someone who does. And–”

“You would sell your soul to stay alive,” you whisper as you reach for a piece of cloth and begin to wipe down the crusted blood.

Acacius sighs. “No. But I would sell my soul to stay with you.”

! when commenting or reblogging, please make sure to hide spoilers from others !

[itstheghostofmypast]

I'm Okay! Gwenchana!

Non-Idol Husband Choi San x (F) Reader

Summary: If there is one thing a good husband knows, it is that intimacy is not bound to the gratification of the physical being, but also the mind and soul.

Genre: Hurt Comfort

Rating: PG- 13

Word Count: 2.1 K

Est. Read Time: 10 min

Warnings: eldest sibling/child trauma (if ykyk)

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

AN: A bit self-indulgent- a light-hearted (i guess) fic before the first chapter of the Ice on My teeth series <3

He watched you walk into your shared bedroom and fall onto the bed, walking in behind you with a heavy sigh, tugging on his tie to loosen it. Perhaps the family dinner did not go as planned, well, most of it. The evening started off well, as well as it could be, honestly the only time he'd say you were this nervous was when you were around your parents. The jitters he'd see trembling through your frame had him holding himself back from enveloping you in a warm embrace, trying to soothe your nervousness, but the physical touch was one of the things you'd avoid around your family.

Slipping the tie off his neck, he unbuttoned his shirt, eying your sprawled out on the bed through the mirror. It was all fine, the conversation was light-hearted, the bare minimum critical comments were targeted towards you, nothing you couldn't handle- until your sibling had arrived.

With a heavy sigh he turned to face you, only to notice your soft breathing, of course, you had fallen asleep. Removing his shirt he walked over to you, reaching over to gently brush the loose strands of hair on your face, his lips pressed into a thin line as he noticed the pink puffiness around your closed eyes, the memories of you crying your heart out in the car on the way back had his heart clench again.

“Love, wake up,” the soft whisper of your husband stirred you out of your dreamless slumber, slowly you opened your eyes and turned your head to glance up at the man who gave you a soft smile in return. Helping you sit up his nimble fingers began to unbutton your top, slipping it off your shoulders. The chill in the room had goosebumps scatter across your warm skin, pulling you into full consciousness, as you pouted at him, “You want to do it now?” you asked, wondering if you should tell him that you were in no mood for it tonight, not that he’d force you, but you did notice how restless he was during dinner, and in the car on the way back, so perhaps he was expecting something.

“Huh? Oh.” the man chuckled at your silly little antics, “Such a naughty wife I have.” he mumbled, staring up at you as he crouched down between your legs, looking up at you while he slipped off your socks, “I just thought a nice warm bath would help you sleep better.”

“Oh…” your face flushed at the statement, embarrassed at the mistake you had just made, wondering why you even thought of it in the first place. Though you couldn't ponder about it any longer, especially when you were scooped up into his arms, a yelp escaping your lips as you looped your arms around his neck, clinging onto him for warmth, in nothing but your undergarments, “Sannie!”

“Don't worry, I'll be careful!”

His declaration echoed in the washroom as he walked into the shower cabin, gently placing you on the shower bench before ridding himself of his garments and turning to face you with a stupid smug expression, earning an eye roll from you. Once your pesky garments were out of the way he turned the nob to the left, holding onto the shower head to check the warmth.

“I can do this myself you know?”

San ignored your statement, only to turn around and ‘accidentally’ spray your face with the warm water, earning a squeal, “Oh- I'm sorry, must've slipped.” With that he approached you, sitting behind you, holding the shower head closer to your head for it to soak your hair and body while you stared at your hands in your lap.

“I never said you couldn’t.”

It wasn’t as if he had something out of the ordinary, but perhaps the whole dinner had been weighing down on you enough to have you sniffle at the statement and you hoped that for once he wouldn’t react to you crying, instead would let you- and you were glad he did, going about his routine.

San noticed the way your shoulders quivered, his hand giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before trailing lower as if he were trying to ease the tension in your back muscles, with the help of the warm water that cascaded down your form. Switching off the water he picked up the shampoo bottle he had conveniently placed beside him, flipping open the cap he poured a generous amount of purple liquid into his palm, picking up the rich berry scent, and making a mental note to use this next time too, it smelled better than his mint shampoo.

With gentle hands he began to lather the shampoo in your hair, applying gentle pressure on your scalp, noting how your crying had seized, only to be replaced by your shallow breathing, noticing how you were trying to calm yourself down, your silence bothering him.

“It’s getting colder, no?” he conversed, trying to distract you from all those thoughts, “You should wear more layers from now on, yeah?”

You only nodded in return, closing your eyes when he began to wash off the shampoo, wanting to ask him if you were to return the favor, as your hand blindly reached behind the for the bottle.

“Love?”

“Umm…yes?”

“For someone who said she’s not in the mood, your hand is-”

“oh-Oh, I thought that was the shampoo bottle!” you gasped pulling your hand back- honestly unsure to why you were so embarrassed, you were married to the man.

“No problem at all, sweets,” his tone was oozing with cockiness as he turned off the water once more, this time reaching for the liquid body wash, “I do understand one can confuse the two because of the similarity in sizes.” He laughed at the way you turned to glare at him only to gently turn you back, “Hold still would ya?”

With a huff you turned around facing the tiled wall, watching the condensation, as he began to gently massage your shoulders, lathering up your body with the soap, feeling him get a bit handsy, but nothing too out of control, at this point you knew he was doing it to distract you. You wondered if you hadn’t stepped on his foot under the table tonight, what would he have said? Would he have defended you? Well, indeed he would have, but what would he have said? He was usually very composed, very calm and careful with his words.

Perhaps he would have politely said something to defuse the situation, or perhaps he would have lost his temper- in either situation, one thing was sure, you were glad you signalled him to be quiet. For if there was one thing you knew, it was that at the end of the day, you were taught that the eldest is to be patient, all bearing and understanding, even when the younger one is wrong- and you had been meeting that bar of expectation for all your life, perhaps because that’s how you were trained to be or to be more exact, you just were not a fan of chaos and useless banter. Though a part of you did wish, that either parent would have tried to handle the situation better, rather than dragging you down because of the whole ‘we expected better from you’ and instead understood when you confronted your sibling about the comment,

“Why? Didn’t you say you didn’t want kids?”

The statement had caught you off guard, the whole conversation was pointless anyway, the topic of children was between your husband and you, and why was it weird if you had changed your views from what they were at the age of fifteen. So, like any sane person, you snapped back with, “Why do you think I owe you an explanation?”

Apparently, that was wrong, and had let loose a whirlwind of emotions within you, especially when your parents began to talk about how it is natural to want kids, but as a family, they do have the right to know how your views changed or rather- your sibling, the sibling you were supposed to parent once they were gone. This followed the whole 'how you were supposed to be the bigger person', even when you argued back saying your sibling never needed to bring up such an old conversation in front of your husband, embarrassing you in front of him- of course, you didn’t tell him this? Why would you? Your views had changed and one day you did plan on starting a family with your husband-

“You need to calm down.”

His warm chest pressed against your back, slowly pulling you back into a hug, arms wrapping around you frame as he placed his chin on your shoulder, tilting to place a tender kiss on your cheek, before pressing his wet cheek against yours, “Thanks for stopping me back then, I know my expressions were scary enough, if I had said something else…” his words trailed off as he squeezed you closer, mumbling against your cheek before pulling away, “I don’t think I can choose my words wisely at the sight of my wife in tears.”

With the weight of those words weighing down on you, you found yourself being wrapped in a fluffy towel and walked out of the washroom, being seated on the bed when he had scurried towards the cupboard, pulling out his hoodie and running back with it, “Arms up!” and as if wired to the command you raised your hands giggling when in one quick motion you felt the soft cotton, the familiar scent enveloping you in a warm hug.

“Where are you going?” you asked as you watched him saunter back into the washroom with the towel hanging low on his hips, only for him to swiftly turn around with a serious look in his eyes, “You were right, the mushrooms did do me dirty.”

You took a moment to process what he said before sighing in defeat, shaking your head at the duality of your husband, so serious one moment and completely aloof the next. Nonetheless, one thing was sure, you really depended on him, perhaps he really was the only being keeping you sane. Perhaps tomorrow you’d talk to him about starting a family, and, tomorrow you’d tell him why you didn’t want kids at the age of fifteen- though you may censor the part where you for a very long time thought that like male seahorses, men give birth, and at fifteen when you found out that was not the case, your plans of having eleven children to raise your own football team quickly washed away- yeah, it was best to censor that part, one clown is enough in a relationship, no need to create a circus.

By the time San was done with cleaning and showering he had come out to find you sleeping peacefully, snuggled up on his side, much to his pleasure. Lifting the blankets he slipped into bed, laying on your side of the bed, sighing at the scent of your shampoo wafting off your pillow, he should do this more often. He wanted to know more about the whole secret that was spilt today, you had never mentioned this to him before, in fact, you seemed ever ready to start a family with him, so he wondered if he was in any sense forcing you to do so- for if there was one thing that mattered to him most, it was your happiness, so yes, if you felt just the two of you completed your family he'd be fine with that- perhaps encourage you to get a cat at max.

A part of him wanted to ask you about the expectations your parents had when it came to your role as an older child and their occasional unfair treatment- though he knew you’d brush it off, too scared of rejection to bring it up at the moment, perhaps one day he’d take a stand for you, one that he’d carefully curate, with wise words and logical reasoning- or you’d end up blowing up and handling it yourself before he could, but that was a worry of another day.

Slowly pulling you closer, he held his breath when you changed positions, afraid that he had woken you up, only to sigh in relief when you snored in bliss, only to turn and bury your face in his chest, an arm draping around his waist. A smile stretched across his face, giddy like a teenage boy who had finally confessed to his crush, openly welcoming this intimacy, as he squeezed you against him, tangling his limbs with yours before closing his eyes to waltz with you on the sprung floor of the ballroom in your dreams.

Though when he had almost succumbed to sleep his eyes snapped open, jerking himself awake at the horrid thought he just had, glancing down at you, unsure if he should wake you up, for it was a grave mistake, one that broke the chain of process of showering-

“I forgot to condition her hair.”

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25

@s-h-y-a @ateezwonderland

[dissapointu]

“Shadows of Us” Sevika x Reader Angst Story

The streets of Zaun were as chaotic as ever, thick with the acrid stench of exhaust fumes and desperation. The flickering neon lights cast eerie shadows on the crumbling walls, illuminating the decay that festered in the heart of the Undercity. It was in these shadows that you found yourself, caught between love and survival, tethered to a woman who was as dangerous as she was captivating—Sevika.

You leaned against the cold metal railing of the Last Drop’s second floor, nursing a drink that had long since lost its taste. The rowdy patrons below shouted and laughed, unaware of the storm brewing inside you. Sevika sat at her usual table near the corner, her mechanical arm glinting under the dim lights as she leaned back, relaxed and confident. She was playing cards with a group of thugs, and from her smirk, she was winning.

But you couldn’t relax. Not tonight.

The weight of your doubts pressed on your chest like a vice. You had been with Sevika for nearly a year now, drawn into her orbit by her raw charisma and the promise of something real in a city that chewed people up and spat them out. But love wasn’t enough to drown out the screams of the people she hurt or silence the nagging voice in your head whispering that you were losing yourself in her shadow.

As if sensing your gaze, Sevika looked up from her game, her sharp eyes locking onto yours. She tilted her head in a silent question, but you quickly looked away, pretending to sip your drink. You felt her eyes linger for a moment longer before she returned to her game, dismissing your unease as one of your moods.

It wasn’t always like this. When you first met Sevika, she was magnetic. She had a way of making you feel seen, even in a crowd. Her touch was grounding, her voice a low, steady hum that made you believe everything would be okay. She was your anchor in Zaun’s chaos. But over time, that anchor began to feel like a chain.

Sevika’s work with Silco grew darker by the day. She never told you everything, but you didn’t need details to understand the consequences. The bloodstains on her clothes, the haunted look in her eyes after a job, the way she avoided your touch some nights—it all painted a picture you didn’t want to see.

“Y/N,” Sevika’s gruff voice snapped you out of your thoughts. She was standing next to you now, her broad frame blocking out the light from the bar below. “What’s with the face?”

You forced a smile. “Just tired, that’s all.”

She frowned, unconvinced. “You’ve been ‘just tired’ for days now. What’s going on?”

Your pulse quickened. This was your chance to speak, to let it all out. But the words caught in your throat, tangled in fear and love. Instead, you shook your head. “It’s nothing. Really.”

Sevika’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t push. “Fine. Let’s get out of here. I’m done for the night.”

You followed her out of the bar, the distance between you feeling greater than the mere steps it took to reach the door.

The walk back to Sevika’s apartment was silent, save for the hum of machinery and the occasional shout from the alleys. Sevika lit a cigarette, the glow from the ember briefly illuminating her sharp features. She looked as untouchable as ever, her presence commanding and unyielding.

But you couldn’t stay silent anymore.

“Sevika,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “Do you ever think about… leaving all this behind?”

She exhaled a plume of smoke, her pace slowing. “What do you mean?”

“This.” You gestured vaguely to the city around you. “The violence, the bloodshed. Working for Silco. Don’t you ever want more than this?”

Sevika stopped, turning to face you fully. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes burned with intensity. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I just… I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “Watching you come home covered in blood, wondering if the next job will be the one that—” You stopped, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m scared, Sevika. For you. For us.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You knew what this was when you got involved with me.”

“I didn’t know it would feel like this,” you shot back, anger and despair bubbling to the surface. “I didn’t know it would feel like I’m losing you. Or maybe I’m losing myself.”

Sevika took a long drag from her cigarette, her expression hardening. “This is who I am, Y/N. I can’t just walk away. Silco trusts me, and I trust him. That’s not something I can throw away because you’re having second thoughts.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut. “So that’s it? I’m supposed to just accept this? Accept watching you destroy yourself for him?”

“It’s not that simple,” she said, her tone clipped. “You think I enjoy the shit I have to do? You think I don’t wish things could be different? But this is Zaun. You survive, or you die. That’s the way it is.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Maybe I don’t want to just survive, Sevika. Maybe I want more.”

She looked away, her jaw clenching. For a moment, the vulnerability in her eyes threatened to crack through her tough exterior. But then, just as quickly, it was gone. “Then maybe you’re in the wrong place.”

Her words were a dagger to your heart. You took a shaky step back, the weight of her dismissal crushing you. “I guess I am.”

The apartment was cold without her.

After that night, you left. You didn’t pack much—just a bag of essentials and the memories you couldn’t bear to leave behind. Sevika didn’t try to stop you. She let you go, her pride or her pain keeping her from saying the words you so desperately needed to hear.

The days that followed were a blur. You stayed with a friend on the other side of the city, trying to piece yourself back together. But every corner of Zaun reminded you of her. The scent of smoke, the sound of heavy boots on metal floors, the faint whir of machinery—it all brought her back to you in flashes.

You wondered if she missed you. If she thought about the way you used to curl up together on the couch, her arm draped protectively around you. If she remembered the late nights spent talking about dreams you both knew would never come true.

But Sevika was nothing if not stubborn. If she regretted letting you go, she wouldn’t show it. That was her way—burying her pain beneath layers of steel and defiance.

Weeks passed before you saw her again.

You were on your way back from the market, the bag of food in your arms feeling heavier than usual. The familiar hum of the Last Drop’s neon sign caught your eye, and before you could stop yourself, you stepped inside.

She was there, of course, sitting at her usual table. She looked tired, her shoulders heavier than you remembered, her hair messier. For a moment, you thought about turning around and leaving before she saw you. But then her eyes met yours.

The air between you was electric, charged with unspoken words and lingering pain. She stood slowly, her towering frame cutting through the crowd as she approached you.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice softer than you expected.

“Sevika,” you replied, your heart hammering in your chest.

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you said, your tone sharper than intended.

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. “Look, I’m not good at this… talking thing. But I—” She paused, struggling to find the words. “I miss you.”

Your heart ached at the admission, but the wounds were still fresh. “You miss me, but you let me walk away.”

“I thought it was what you wanted,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. “You said you couldn’t do this anymore, and I—” She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t know how to fix it.”

“It’s not about fixing it, Sevika,” you said, your voice breaking. “It’s about choosing. Choosing us. But I don’t think you can.”

Her expression crumbled for a split second before she schooled it into indifference. “Maybe I can’t.”

The finality of her words shattered you. You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks as you stepped back. “Then there’s nothing left to say.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Sevika behind in the shadows where she belonged.

The pain didn’t fade, but over time, it dulled. You found a new rhythm, a life that didn’t revolve around the chaos of Zaun or the unpredictable storm that was Sevika. But late at night, when the city was quiet and the memories crept in, you wondered if she ever thought about you. If she ever regretted letting you go.

[mrsackermanfeed]

ProfessorKentoNanami x CollegeStudentBlackReader (NSFW Link )

TEACHERS PET

Your cute little skirt in his lap , legs folded that you sat on , he slammed down that framed picture of his wife and him on there wedding day .

And slid his wedding band into his dresser , while tugging your panties aside , “ I get a A , you promise?” He sighed and slid his fingers into that tight wet cunt .

“Promise bunny “ he sung at the sound of your slick puckering on his fingers , she didn’t feel bad , not one inch , she heard the arguments when he left class when his wife called , but she knew she was a silly girl too him , too think he would leave his wife for her .

So she enjoyed what was offered , he knew she had daddy issues and that’s what kept him stuffing her full of lies , lies that he would love her and protect her from anything that tried too hurt her .

“Mr.Nana- “ he pulled his fingers from her sopping entrance , picking her up by her thighs before swiping away anything in the way on his desk keeping him from fucking her .

“Come on bunny class is over “ he slammed her down on the desk , and yanked her panties off her thighs , leaving her in the cute plaid skirt , “ I’m sorry daddy I forgot “ he sighed heavily that name making him almost cum in his pants .

“That’s it , good girl “ he replied leaning toward you taking his belt off and pushing your knees up , he grabbed the back of your head pushing it against his , and put one on your lower back so he could look right into your eyes .

Sinking into you , he sighed , still not breaking that contact but watching you fall apart , “ shit “ you cursed , at his stretch as his mouth hung , before pulling out he rammed back into you, leaning on your elbows his hands pulled on your cute white bra , tugging it off your chest as your nipples perked , and your breast jumped , you sighed softly.

Pouting up at him , he sighed , before flipping you fully so you would be laying down , he leveled his knee on the desk keeping it steady and he hovered over you while sinking himself deeper , words couldn’t explain why he loved doing this why he needed you but he did , you made it better for him in this stupid marriage he had .

He was angry , she cheated first in the marriage , you always asked him why he just now started too pay attention too your flirty comments that was because he didn’t wanna hurt his wife , but the night he came in tired , watching his friend of three years fuck up into his wife it hurt him .

“Dad- daddy it hurts “ you hicked, he didn’t realize his speed he was hurting you , tears welding in your eyes he grabbed your waist picking you up and hugging onto you , “ I’m sorry princess , I don’t mean it , I’m sorry ok?” You pouted while he still slammed you up and down on his cock .

You hummed, burying your cries in his neck , he smiled , and sat in his chair pulling you out of his shoulder , he smiled softly, “better ?” He slowly lifted your body fucking you , “ yes “ you hicked , and he pushed the big curls from your face and brushed them behind your ears .

“I love you “ she nodded and laid on his chest “ I love you too “ she lifted crying his neck “ I’m gonna cum daddy “ he smiled and rubbed your back , “ I’m here , you can “ he smiled softly.

He knew exactly what he wanted from you and why he kept this going , he needed you , you made him happy and that was the end of his marriage .

His condom broke and he felt all the warm liquid slip into you before he was picking you up and sitting you on the desk , “ I’m sorry “ he panted pulling the condom from your tight cunt .

You sighed and panic filled your body , but you kept calm knowing you had a plan .

“It’s ok I’ll grab a plan b from the store on the way home , thank you sir “ you got down from his desk picking up your panties and his books helping him clean his mess before fixing his tie and letting him clean up his mess on your legs and you made your way home .

You felt disgusting for once , thinking about what happened.

Part 2

[marysfics]

Through the Dust

Alexia Putellas x DownhillRacer!Reader

Status: Ongoing

Other Chapters: click here

This is a multichapter fic, and trust me, you’re in for one wild ride. Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Grief, Kisses, Smut.

Word count: 3.5k

Chapter 7: "Between the Words We’ve Yet to Speak"

The flight from your hometown to Barcelona felt longer than it should’ve. The anticipation, the excitement, the uncertainty—it all mingled inside you, creating a knot in your stomach. But there was something else too. Something warm and hopeful, like a part of you was being drawn to the city for the first time. You weren’t sure how much of it had to do with the place itself or with Alexia. Either way, you were on your way.

When you finally arrived in Spain, the weather was warmer than you expected, the sun shining brightly, a stark contrast to the chilly mountain air you had grown accustomed to. Alexia was waiting for you at the airport, her smile wide and genuine as soon as she spotted you among the crowd.

She was dressed casually, a soft sweater and jeans, but the way she looked at you, as if she hadn’t seen you in years, made everything around you fade. You could feel the weight of the last few weeks lift, replaced by a sense of peace that only her presence could bring.

“Hey,” she said softly as she pulled you into a hug, the scent of her perfume mixing with the fresh air. “Welcome to Barcelona.”

Your heart fluttered, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks. It’s… good to finally be here.”

“Let’s get you settled in,” Alexia said, pulling back slightly but keeping her hand on your arm. “I want to show you everything. And, if you’re up for it, maybe even let you stay at my place tonight.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat at her words. “Your place?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, shrugging slightly. “You’re my guest, after all. You’ve come all this way, I should take care of you.”

Your cheeks flushed a little, unsure if it was the warmth of the city or the way she was looking at you that made you feel so nervous. But you nodded, managing to breathe out a smile. “Okay, I’d like that.”

As Alexia drove you through the vibrant streets of Barcelona, the city felt alive in a way that was hard to put into words. The sun reflected off the buildings, the hustle and bustle of the city mixing with the hum of the Spanish language, but all you could really focus on was the woman sitting beside you, her hand occasionally brushing against yours as she navigated the streets.

She took you to a small café for lunch, a cozy place tucked away in one of the quieter streets. It was here that you noticed how much Alexia loved this city. She spoke about it with such familiarity, the small details—the hidden gems, the quiet parks, the cafes where she liked to spend her afternoons. You loved how much she shared, how effortlessly she made you feel like part of it.

Afterward, she led you around the city, showing you the famous sights—the stunning architecture of La Sagrada Familia, the winding alleys of the Gothic Quarter, and the colorful mosaics of Park Güell. You walked together, talking and laughing, but there was an underlying tension between you that neither of you addressed—at least not yet.

As the sun began to set, casting an orange glow over the city, Alexia took you back to her apartment, a cozy two-bedroom flat in the heart of Barcelona. It was small but filled with warmth and character. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and the windows let in the soft golden light of the late afternoon.

“Make yourself at home,” Alexia said, showing you to the guest bedroom. It was modest but comfortable, a few simple touches here and there that made it feel personal. You placed your bag on the bed, suddenly nervous as she lingered by the door, her hand on the frame.

“Hey, I know it’s a lot to take in,” she said softly, her eyes meeting yours. “But… if you’re comfortable, you can stay here. I want you to. I want you to feel like you have a place here.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you tried to form the words you’d been wanting to say. “Alexia, I… I think I want to be more than just a visitor here. I want to be with you. Not just in this city, but… I want to be with you, with everything that means.”

She didn’t answer immediately, her eyes searching yours as if she were trying to read something she wasn’t sure she understood. Finally, she smiled, though it was a little unsure, and nodded. “I want that too.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, the tension in your chest slowly easing. You reached out, your hand gently touching hers, a quiet promise between you. “Good.”

You both stood there for a moment, the weight of your words hanging between you. The air felt charged with something unspoken, something new. Alexia’s gaze softened, and without another word, she closed the space between you. Her hand moved to the back of your neck, her fingers brushing against the skin there, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could even process it, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that stole the breath from your lungs. The kiss was slow, hesitant at first, as if both of you were testing the waters, unsure of how deep this new connection would go. But it didn’t take long for that hesitation to fade.

Your lips moved together more firmly, and you let yourself melt into the warmth of her embrace, the reality of what you’d just confessed sinking in. It felt right—natural, even. Every doubt, every fear about this being too soon, too fast, faded as you felt her heart beat against yours. She pulled you closer, deepening the kiss just enough for the moment to stretch on, each second building more and more intimacy between you.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathing a little heavier, a smile tugged at the corners of Alexia’s lips. Her eyes were brighter, more alive, and you felt a surge of relief flood through you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she whispered, her voice low and full of meaning.

Your cheeks warmed at her confession, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “Me too.”

It felt like the beginning of something real, something that had always been there but was only now being fully realized. And as Alexia brushed a strand of hair from your face, you knew there was no turning back. This—whatever it was—had only just begun.

A playful glint entered your eyes as you teased her, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “So, I guess that makes you my girlfriend now, right?”

Alexia blinked, her eyes softening, then her lips curled into a grin. She stepped a little closer, her voice warm and full of affection. “I like the sound of that,” she said, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of your jaw. “I’m definitely okay with that.”

You both laughed, the tension from before easing away completely as the reality of your relationship began to settle in. It felt easy, natural, and with the way Alexia’s smile made your heart flutter, you knew that this was just the beginning of something truly special.

The next day, Alexia decided to take you to her family’s house. She’d spoken about them so much, about her mother, Eli, and her younger sister, Alba, and now, you were about to meet them.

As you arrived at her family’s home, a warm and welcoming house in a quiet neighborhood, you were greeted with open arms. Eli, Alexia’s mother, was a strong woman with a welcoming smile. She immediately pulled you into a hug, making you feel as if you’d known her for years.

“It’s so good to finally meet you,” Eli said, her eyes kind as she held you at arm’s length. “Alexia talks about you all the time.”

You felt a slight blush creep up your neck. “She does?”

Eli chuckled softly. “Of course. You’ve made quite the impression on her.”

Alexia shot her mother a teasing look but didn’t comment, instead leading you to the living room where Alba was sitting, casually flipping through a magazine.

“Alba, this is the person I’ve been telling you about,” Alexia said, giving you a warm smile before turning to her sister.

Alba, still a little surprised, looked up at you with wide eyes. “So, you’re the one who’s made my sister act all weird and smiley?”

Alexia blushed at that, her hand brushing through her hair in a rare show of embarrassment. “Alba, come on…”

But Alba wasn’t letting it go that easily. “Seriously, I can tell. She never smiles like that unless she’s talking about something—someone—special.”

You laughed softly, feeling more at ease with Alexia’s family than you expected. But as the conversation continued, the mood shifted a little. Eli seemed to get a little quieter, her eyes going soft as she asked, “Alexia, do you ever talk about your father?”

Alexia stiffened slightly, her gaze flickering to you before back to her mother. “I do. Sometimes. Why?”

Eli’s voice was gentle as she placed a hand on Alexia’s. “I just think she’d like to know more about him. Where you come from, what shaped you.”

The conversation turned to stories about Alexia’s father, a man who had passed away years ago. You could tell how much it affected Alexia, the loss still fresh in her heart, but she shared what she could—the way he taught her how to ride a bike, how to fight for what she wanted, how to love fiercely. It was clear that, though he was gone, his memory lived on in the way Alexia carried herself.

As the conversation flowed, you could feel the weight of the memories in the room, the love and sadness mixed in Alexia’s eyes whenever she spoke about her father. She had clearly inherited his strength, his passion, and that same fire to fight for what mattered most. But there was also a soft vulnerability there, something raw, something you hadn’t seen before in Alexia.

Eli continued with the stories, sharing moments that made Alexia laugh softly, a few others that made her eyes glisten with unshed tears. She told you how Alexia’s father had always pushed her to pursue her dreams, no matter how difficult, how scary it seemed. And how, after he passed, Alexia had become the pillar of strength for their family.

"She was only a kid, but she stepped up like a grown woman," Eli said, her voice thick with emotion. "Her father would be so proud of who she’s become."

Alexia looked away for a moment, swallowing hard, her hand instinctively reaching for yours on the couch. You gently intertwined your fingers, offering her silent support, though you could sense the internal battle she was facing. She rarely spoke about her father in such depth, and it was clear that this conversation was both painful and cathartic for her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make things heavy,” Alexia said, her voice softer, a little quieter than usual. She leaned into you just a little, seeking the comfort you always seemed to provide without even realizing it.

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze, offering her a reassuring smile. "It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. I understand."

Eli’s eyes softened as she watched the two of you. "It’s just that… I know how much she’s been through," she said, looking at Alexia, then back at you. "But I also know she’s found something—someone—who makes her happy. And I can see it in her eyes when she looks at you."

Alba, ever the teasing younger sister, couldn’t resist. "Oh, please," she said, rolling her eyes playfully. "This is the most I've ever seen my sister blush. I swear, I’ve never seen her this… well, happy, I guess."

Alexia’s face turned bright red, and she swatted at her sister, laughing. "Alba, stop! You’re making it awkward."

You chuckled along with them, the warmth of the moment easing the weight of the earlier conversation. It felt good to see Alexia, who had always been so strong and composed, letting her guard down a little, sharing her past and her emotions with you.

After a few more light-hearted exchanges, the evening took a more relaxed turn. Alexia’s mother, Eli, offered to make dinner, and the three of you—plus Alba, who kept teasing Alexia in the most endearing way—settled into the kitchen. You helped, albeit clumsily, as Alexia and Alba bantered, clearly at ease with each other.

The evening was peaceful, comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. You realized that Alexia’s family, her mother, and sister, were more than just her past—they were an integral part of the person she had become. And, as you sat there, laughing over dinner, you began to feel like you were becoming part of that story too.

Later, as the evening drew to a close, and the two of you found yourselves sitting on her bed again back in her apartment, a quietness lingered between you and Alexia. The night was winding down, and the soft buzz of the city outside could be heard faintly in the background.

Alexia leaned closer to you, resting her head on your shoulder, her hand still clutching yours. The comfort of her touch, the intimacy of the moment, settled over you like a soft blanket.

"I think they like you," she whispered, her voice gentle, her fingers tracing soft patterns on your palm.

"I like them too," you replied, a small smile curling on your lips. "You’re lucky to have them."

Alexia looked up at you, her expression soft but conflicted. "Yeah, I am," she said, her voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite read. "But they’re right. My father… he’d be proud of me for having you in my life. And I want you to know that."

You felt a gentle tug at your heart as you processed her words. It was as if she was letting you into a part of her life that only a few people truly knew, and you wanted her to feel that same warmth, that same acceptance, from you.

“I think my sister would have said the same thing about me,” you replied softly, your voice steady but filled with meaning. “She always wanted me to find someone who saw me for who I really am… and I think she’d be proud of me, too, for being here with you.”

Alexia’s eyes softened at that, a quiet understanding passing between the two of you. It was in the way she looked at you, as if she could see the bond you shared with your sister, and maybe, just maybe, it helped her feel less alone with the loss of her own father.

There was something unspoken between the two of you now—this shared understanding of loss, of love, and of finding the people who would stand by you no matter what. It felt like you both had finally found that with each other, and that knowledge filled you with a quiet sense of peace.

She reached over and squeezed your hand, her touch warm and grounding. "I’m glad you’re here," she whispered, her eyes locking onto yours.

"I’m glad I’m here too," you whispered back, your heart full of something you couldn’t quite explain. But it was good. It was right.

That night, everything felt different. The quiet hum of the city outside blended with the soft rhythm of your breathing as you and Alexia sat on her bed, a magnetic pull between you both that was impossible to ignore. The tension that had been building up between you over the past few days was thick in the air, charging every touch, every glance. It was almost as if the room itself held its breath, waiting for what was about to happen.

Without a word, you closed the small distance, the space between you shrinking until there was nothing left but the weight of your hearts beating in sync. The moment felt inevitable, and it was in that split second, when everything in the world seemed to slow down, that you kissed her.

The kiss started slow, hesitant at first, but the urgency of it quickly took over. It deepened, a mix of longing and something more—something raw and powerful. Your hands found each other as if they'd always known where to go, your body pressing against hers as the kiss turned more desperate, more urgent.

When you pulled back for a moment, gasping for air, you both looked at each other. An unspoken understanding passed between you—this was real, this was happening. You could feel the heat between you, and there was no turning back now.

Alexia's eyes were soft, but full of admiration and something more, something that made your chest tighten. You could see it in her—her raw vulnerability, her need, and a quiet desire to be seen for who she truly was. You weren’t about to shy away from that.

You leaned in again, your lips capturing hers once more, this time with more intensity. As your kiss grew heavier, you felt her hands move down your body, slow and purposeful, pulling at the fabric of your shirt, eager to feel your skin. Your hands mirrored hers, tugging at the buttons of her shirt, pushing it off her shoulders until the soft fabric slid down her arms, revealing the skin you had yearned to touch.

You both moved with a kind of urgency now, each of you needing the other in a way that words couldn’t express. You hovered above her as she lay back against the bed, her body yielding to the moment, her hands guiding you closer. You couldn’t help but admire the way she looked beneath you—her breath shallow, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with your own.

You began to knead your hands over her body, feeling the smoothness of her skin, the muscles that were a testament to her strength. She responded with a small moan, her back arching slightly as you worked your way down. When your hands reached the waistband of her pants, you felt her tense, her breath hitching in her throat. You paused, sensing the shift in her body, and pulled back slightly to look at her.

Her eyes met yours, vulnerable yet filled with trust, but there was something else in them too—something that made you hesitant. You could see the anxiety in her expression, the momentary insecurity that flashed across her face.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, your voice soft and steady, trying to read the emotions flickering across her features.

Alexia swallowed, her lips trembling just a little. "Yeah," she breathed out, her voice quieter than before. "I just... sometimes I get in my own head. About things people have said about me."

You nodded, understanding immediately. The world had been cruel to her before, making her feel less than she was, and it hurt you to see her struggle with those insecurities now. You leaned down, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"You’re beautiful," you whispered, your voice full of sincerity. "Exactly as you are."

The tension in her body eased slightly at your words, but she still looked uncertain, as if the fear of being judged was too big to ignore. You wanted to make her feel safe, wanted to make her feel like she didn’t have to be anything but herself with you.

“I’m here with you,” you murmured, your lips trailing over her jaw, down her neck. “And I want you—just as you are. No pretenses.”

Alexia’s hand found yours again, squeezing it tightly as she pulled you back to look at her. Her gaze was full of a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude, and for a moment, the world outside disappeared. It was just the two of you, with nothing else between you but the truth of what you shared.

“I’m ready,” she whispered, her voice low, but full of certainty this time. “With you.”

And with that, you let go of all the doubts, all the insecurities. You kissed her once more, this time without hesitation, this time letting your bodies speak the words your hearts had been too scared to say before.

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

End of chapter 7.

[really-good-devil]

x men and marvel characters (wolverine, daredevil, gambit, nightcrawler, etc) with transmasc boyfriend.... please i beg of you

anon i see you i see you i'm thanking you for this. i just ran with this i hope its to your liking

MARVEL IMAGINES WITH TRANSMASC BOYFRIEND

content: religion mention (majority positively), medical/social transition implied, dysphoria, transphobia

Wolverine:

For someone almost 200 years old, he has a bit to learn upon meeting you

Obviously Morph is a help with this + definitely had to give him a PowerPoint presentation

His view of masculinity somewhat is skewed but he is very insistent on treating you like a man because you identify as a man and if that means anything to you then it means something to him

Flannels! He absolutely gives you his baggy coats when you make a comment on needing more masculine clothes (not to mention the smell that his clothes leave on you is a big plus, so sue him, okay?)

Workout regiment is always taken care of and you never skip chest and arm day

He calls you "darlin'" once and then immediately goes "aw shit" because it might be too "lady-like" (his words) but he gets over it very quickly

Mutant hate? He understands all too well. Transphobia? Whole new ballgame, but it makes him just as mad. As in, he has no problem almost kabobbing someone who makes a comment about you going into a bathroom when he takes you out to one of his preferred bars

He soon realizes after that that maybe you need better hangouts and though he doesn't think the beer is as good at the other places, it's worth it to him

To him, assholes like that are no less ignorant than those who attack mutants because its all the same so he gets feisty on the defense

Once when the body dysphoria is real bad, like the kind when mirrors are the worst thing in the world and everything feels gross and tight, he listens and holds you very tightly and though he can't understand half of it, he does understand self-hatred and it hurts him something fierce

So he'll go out of his way at that point to make it known that you are one of strongest guys he knows because you're going through change and sticking to yourself and he loves it about you

He offhandedly once mentions using his claws for top surgery in an attempt to be funny and neither of you know how to react in that moment but it actually is kind of funny much later

Nightcrawler:

Much more up to speed than some others

He's not unused to the ideas of the intricacies and ideas of gender from his time in the circus and seeing the different lifestyles at play there

There's some trepidation on some people's parts about how Kurt will react considering his religion and the history, but it very hardly factors in

Very flirtatious after he gets the okay to move forward even if it's new to him

Does everything he would try to do with his previous lovers; he loves flowers that remind him of you

Constantly trying to involve you in things that he enjoys that he would hope you enjoy

Movie nights are a favorite of his and even if they end up being more modern, he's always willing to give it a chance

Kurt of all people knows what it is like to be judged and ridiculed for how you look or how people perceive someone

Body positivity is a huge part for him; complimenting your frame, your body hair, your hands

After all, his own body is not what many would consider normal, but it is still his and he accepts it, so he'll literally be damned if he can't help with that

His whole thing is finding someone new that's nice to say every day (which isn't very hard for him, tbh)

When he hears you accept any of it he gets so excited that his tail wags and he peppers you with kisses that sometimes have little nips from his fangs but they're all gentle

Loves to take you up to the top of the X-Mansion to have semi-romantic getaways and look out at the night sky and think of things far beyond where you both are right now, though he know he is happiest right at your side

Gambit:

Meets you when you first arrive to the mansion and is instantly drawn to you

Ever the gentleman while he's trying to get to know you, almost like chivalry is his default no matter the gender

After you first confess your feelings his favorite card becomes his King of Hearts

You tell him it's cheesy but he is happy that you approve

He leaves it with you the first time he goes on a mission and though he didn't doubt that you would lose it, he is so happy when he sees you kept it you can literally feel his kinetic energy reserves when he kisses you deep

His favorite is on those rare occasions where you get to dress up, whether it's for a party or infiltrating something

He loves trying to find coordinating or inverse outfits accessories if that's the case (nothing huge, but small ways to show that you two are together)

Pet names constantly

He works with his hands often so he uses them constantly to explore your body and he has magic fingers in many ways

You're so perfect to him in every way imaginable

Matt Murdock:

You meet Matt in Josie's a while after moving to the area in a new area to "start fresh"

It's not that he hustles you but you don't expect to lose at pool to him

He's very charming and easy to learn from and it takes a while but eventually you do get together

Walks around the neighborhood as an excuse to get to know things end up being tiny dates

Foggy and Karen exchanging tiny looks over Matt's boyfriend but very happy for him

You're unaware of his double life but do end up having to fuss over his scrapes

Eventually you have to explain to him and it's awkward but he just seems to take you in without seeing you and he smiles a bit and its okay from then on

You think he's just super understanding and forgiving but no he's actually known for a while

He's been very perceptive of changes in you as you transition further; he knows when you just had a T shot from how you body is working just a bit harder because of it, when your voice gets a bit deeper between the times he sees you

He also had to do a background check because you can't be too careful at this point

But though it's insanely new to him since he hasn't been with a man, he does love you with no shame

He knows what you look like vaguely but always asks anyway because he wants you to explain what you see of yourself

Always very seriously and not seriously ready to remind you that he is part of fine law firm should you need to win a case against someone at the slightest complaint

You always feel safe and seen, in a way, with him, and it never really changes

‐----------------------

I hope you enjoyed this! If you did, feel free to request more like this or a fic! Requests are open and I have masterpost here and a list of characters and ships I'd write for here. Thanks for reading!

(Also lmk if any of these are interesting enough you'd want to see more of, bc the Matt and Kurt ones I would definitely be open to making a fic so stay tuned if it happens.)

[domm1etae]

sent to tempt me - chapter one

chapter one: the first glimpse

chapter summary: Yunho arrives at his new dorm, hoping for peace and quiet, but his expectations are shattered when he meets his unexpected and enigmatic roommate

pairing: yunho x mingi

genre: smut (not yet but there will be eventually), angst, fluff, romance, m/m, non!idol!ateez, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, drama, coming of age, collage, religion

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually) | mdni

word count: 2.2k

warnings under

collage, roommates, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, bad boy mingi and religious church good boy yunho same-sex attraction, m/m, teasing, dark themes, homophobia, self discovery, pet names, strangers to lovers, religion and religious topics, aaaand more will be added soon hehehe

author's note: my first series, yaaaay! I’m so excited about this, and I hope you’ll like it. let me know how you feel about the first chapter in the comments. also, should I make a tag list for this?

Yunho grew up in a house where silence spoke louder than words. Yunho grew up in a house where everything had its place.

Every Sunday morning, he woke up to the scent of his mom’s freshly brewed coffee and the sound of his dad humming hymns in the kitchen. Breakfast was always ready by 8:00 a.m. sharp, the same time they left for church.

His family wasn’t unkind; they loved each other in the way a well-rehearsed choir loves its conductor: faithfully, dutifully, but not too loudly. The Jeongs didn’t argue or slam doors. They lived in neat, quiet harmony, with Bible verses framed on the walls and a family portrait taken at the church picnic hanging above the mantel.

Yunho always knew his role in this symphony of order. He was the son they prayed for, the one who didn’t talk back or skip curfews. At 13, he was the boy who stayed late after services to help clean up, stacking chairs and sweeping floors while other kids hung out in parking lots blasting music. He was the one teachers praised, neighbors admired, and his parents held up as an example, they always smiled proudly, calling him “their angel.”

And Yunho liked being good.

At least, he thought he did. Until the dreams started.

Dreams that left him waking up in a panic, drenched in sweat, begging God for forgiveness before he even got out of bed. Dreams that weren’t about the soft curves of a girl’s body, like he knew they were supposed to be, but about sharp jawlines, strong hands, and broad shoulders.

It wasn’t just the dreams. It was the way he couldn’t stop looking. At first, it was small things—admiring how his classmate’s uniform shirt stretched across his chest during gym class or wondering why he felt so warm when he saw certain smiles. He convinced himself it was normal. Just admiration, nothing more. But it didn’t stay fleeting.

He prayed for hours at night, whispering to God to make it go away. “Please, Lord,” he’d say, clutching the cross on his bedside table until his hands hurt. “Don’t let me feel like this.” But the thoughts didn’t stop.

He never told anyone. Not his friends, not his parents, not even the priest during confession.

He thought about telling Father Lee once. After Sunday Mass, he lingered outside the confessional, hands trembling, heart racing. But when he finally stepped inside, knees pressing into the wooden kneeler, the words froze in his throat.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” he managed, his voice barely audible.

The priest’s calm, steady reply came through the lattice screen. “What troubles you, my child?”

Yunho’s hands gripped the edge of the pew until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to say it. He wanted to confess. But the weight of it, the shame—it was too much.

Instead, he mumbled something about talking back to his parents and skipped dinner that night, too sick with guilt to eat.

Books became his escape.

Yunho discovered literature the way some kids discover a secret hideout: by accident, but it quickly became his sanctuary. He wasn’t one to seek it out; books, like distant cousins, were something that didn’t seem to fit in his world. But on a lazy summer afternoon, when his parents were busy with their own lives, Yunho wandered into his father’s study. The room smelled of old wood and dust, filled with shelves of books that always seemed too formal to touch, too thick to bother with.

It was there, buried under a stack of untouched textbooks, that he found an old copy of The Great Gatsby. The cover was faded, the corners of the pages slightly curled, but something about it called to him. There was no reason for Yunho to pick it up—he wasn’t interested in the world of the Roaring Twenties, the glamor or the excess—but something about the worn edges, the ink fading in places like a secret waiting to be unraveled, made him curious.

He sat down on the living room floor, cradling the book in his hands, the cover smooth under his fingertips. When he opened the first page, it was as if the world had shifted. The words seemed to leap off the page, weaving a narrative that was both foreign and familiar. He got lost in it: the parties, the glamour, the yearning, the tragedy. The way Jay Gatsby’s life felt so full of promise, yet so hollow at the same time.

There was something about the way words could paint entire worlds, how they could make you feel things so vividly that it almost hurt. With every turn of the page, Yunho found himself sinking deeper into Gatsby’s world, a world that was both dazzling and dark, where no one was who they appeared to be. For the first time, Yunho could relate to the idea of masks—of playing a part and feeling alone, no matter how many people surrounded you. It was as if the book had taken something deep inside of him and pulled it into the light.

For Yunho, books weren’t just stories; they were freedom.

They were a bridge to a place where no one judged him, where no one expected him to be perfect. In the pages of The Great Gatsby, there was no family name to live up to, no prayers to recite, no duty to be a certain kind of son. There was just the raw, beautiful act of existing without judgment. The characters, flawed and human, didn’t try to pretend they were anything other than what they were. They loved, they hurt, they sought something more—but they were always, in some way, authentic.

Books gave Yunho a place to escape the life he had to lead—one that demanded perfection, one that demanded silence when all he wanted was to shout. Every character, whether they were noble or tragic, flawed or redeemed, felt real to him in ways his real life didn’t. He could be whoever he wanted to be when he opened a book. He could think things that scared him, feel things that frightened him, all in the comfort of knowing it wasn’t real.

He read everything he could get his hands on—Shakespeare, Frost, Brontë. Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Hamlet—the classics that made him feel like he was standing on the edge of something monumental. He fell in love with the way poetry could turn pain into something beautiful, the way prose could make even the simplest moments feel profound. Each word he read felt like an invitation to a world he was never allowed to explore in real life.

There was power in poetry. The kind of power that made you feel seen even when you weren’t speaking. A line from a poem could echo in his chest like a secret whispered into his ear—how the pain in the words felt like his own pain, and yet it was shared, universal. He began scribbling lines in the margins of his notebooks, quoting his favorite poets, trying to capture something of the way they made him feel. But his words never seemed enough. His words never seemed to touch the depth of the feeling, the longing he couldn’t explain.

In books, there was no shame. No guilt. Just characters and their stories, raw and human. No one to look at him with pity in their eyes, no one to ask questions he couldn’t answer. He was free in a way that no one ever told him he could be.

When the acceptance letter from the University of Seoul arrived, Yunho saw it as a sign.

A fresh start.

A chance to focus on his studies, to leave behind the heavy silence of his house, the suffocating expectations of his family. To be free, not just in his mind but in the world. He dreamed of quiet nights in a tidy dorm room, stacks of books surrounding him, the hum of a desk lamp keeping him company as he read well into the night. He imagined himself walking the leafy campus, the world sprawling before him—endless possibilities, untouched and waiting. He imagined being the kind of student who got lost in lectures, who lost track of time in libraries, who got so caught up in books and ideas that the rest of the world felt far away.

He imagined a life where he didn’t have to hide who he was. Where his thoughts didn’t feel like a burden. He could be a literature major, someone who was known for his intelligence, for his passion for the written word, without anyone ever asking about the things he kept hidden. No one would ever know about the turmoil inside him, the yearning that crept up every time he thought about something or someone in a way that didn’t feel right.

The thought of a fresh start was everything he’d dreamed of. It was the chance to begin again, to bury his fears in books, to embrace his studies without the guilt.

But when he stepped into his new dorm, those dreams started to crack.

The first thing Yunho noticed about the dorm was the smell.

It wasn’t bad—just different. A faint mix of cleaning solution and something else he couldn’t quite place, something organic, maybe even a little musky, like a place that had been lived in. It hit him instantly, a sharp contrast to the scent of the fresh air outside. As he stepped inside, the small living room greeted him with beige walls, mismatched furniture—an old, faded gray couch with a wobbly coffee table in front of it, and a tiny kitchenette tucked into the corner like an afterthought. The kind of space that made you think the people who built it were more concerned with efficiency than comfort.

There were two doors leading to separate bedrooms, just like the housing brochure promised, and a narrow hallway that led to a cramped bathroom. It was basic, functional, nothing fancy.

Yunho let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. It was quiet—blissfully, eerily quiet. The kind of quiet his mom had warned him about, the kind he’d been desperate for since they’d first dropped him off at the university.

“Call us when you get there, alright? And eat well! Are you sure you’re not forgetting anything? Don’t forget your vitamins—oh, and make sure you pack extra socks!” His mom’s voice had been a constant hum in the back of his mind the entire journey. She was always so concerned, so fixated on the little things.

His dad, quieter but just as insistent, had kept reminding him to stay focused on his studies and “be a good boy.” It wasn’t that they didn’t trust him, but they’d never really let him out of their sight long enough to be sure he could take care of himself. So, as Yunho unloaded his suitcase into his new dorm room, his parents’ voices still echoed in his head. “Eat well,” “Take care of yourself,” “Stay safe.” They said it as if every part of his life depended on their supervision.

But now, as he stood there alone in his new room, he felt a little freer than he expected. Sure, the place wasn’t what he’d dreamed of, but it was his. No hovering, no expectations. It felt… private. Safe.

He dropped his suitcase by the door and took a moment to look around. For a second, the room felt empty—like it was waiting to be filled with something, or someone. Yunho had imagined this moment a thousand times in his head, but it didn’t match what he had expected. He’d pictured coming here to study, to read in peace, to finally get a break from the pressure of his family and the silent, constant burden of expectations that never seemed to ease. Here, he thought, would be his fresh start.

Then he saw it.

A black leather jacket draped over the couch.

It looked expensive, the kind of thing Yunho had only seen in movies or on mannequins in department stores. The leather was soft and worn, creased in places where it had clearly been lived in. The silver zippers glinted faintly under the fluorescent lights, and as Yunho stepped closer, the scent of cologne hit him—sharp, musky, and a little too out of place in a room this plain.

Yunho frowned. His roommate must have arrived already.

Curious, he stepped closer and reached out, fingers brushing against the cool material. It felt smooth under his touch, almost like the jacket had been designed to be a piece of armor—something protective, something that spoke of confidence and mystery. A strange thought flickered in his mind: Who was this person?

He had barely processed the thought when he heard a voice, smooth and low, slicing through the silence.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have left it there.”

Yunho froze, his breath catching in his throat, as the sound of another voice rippled through him.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Lost in the Stacks

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

AU: Coffee Shop Owner Steve x reader

Warnings: none just Robin and Steve things

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, I was very passionate about my Stevie boy so take this long fic :) (I’m slowly getting use to writing more- bear with me-)

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The bell above the door jingled softly as you stepped into The Upside. The café-bookshop hybrid was a warm refuge from the gray skies outside, its wooden shelves lined with books, mismatched armchairs tucked into cozy corners, and the smell of coffee and baked goods filling the air.

Behind the counter, Steve Harrington was wrestling with the espresso machine. His dark green sweater hugged his frame in a way that made you linger for a second too long, and his hair looked as effortlessly perfect as ever.

“You’ve gotta finesse it, Harrington. Not scare it into submission,” Robin Buckley teased, grabbing a cloth and wiping the counter as she passed him.

“I don’t scare it—I tame it,” Steve retorted, though the machine sputtered indignantly, making Robin snort.

“Hey, you,” Robin said, looking up and spotting you. “Back for more of our famous customer service?”

You laughed, setting your bag on the counter. “Obviously. Where else can I get entertainment with my coffee?”

Steve glanced up, his expression softening when he saw you. “Hey! Usual?”

“Please,” you said, smiling. “But no rush. Looks like you’re in a heated negotiation over there.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, this thing hates me. I think it’s personal.”

Robin leaned over conspiratorially. “It is. And it’s winning.”

Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his grin as he busied himself with your order. Robin gave you a sly wink before walking off to restock pastries.

It wasn’t just the books or the coffee that kept drawing you back to The Upside. It was Steve, with his clumsy charm and easy smiles, and Robin, whose sharp humor always made you laugh. Together, they made the place feel less like a shop and more like a second home.

Months ago, you’d stumbled into The Upside for the first time, drenched from an unexpected rainstorm.

Steve had been behind the counter, towel in hand before you could even ask. “Rough day?” he’d asked, his grin warm and teasing.

“You could say that,” you replied, wringing out your hair.

“Well, you’re in the right place. Best coffee in town. Also, books. You like books, right?”

“I think you’re supposed to ask that before recommending them,” you said, smiling despite yourself.

“Details,” he said with a wave of his hand. “What’s your usual? Or do you want me to surprise you?”

Before you could answer, Robin piped up from where she was shelving books. “Don’t trust him. He once made me a ‘surprise drink’ that tasted like dish soap.”

Steve scoffed, though his grin never wavered. “Ignore her. She’s bitter because she’s not the favorite coworker.”

“I’m your only coworker!”

That first visit had stuck with you—not just because of the cozy atmosphere but because of Steve’s awkward charm and the way Robin’s sarcasm balanced it out. You’d started coming back regularly after that, finding excuses to linger a little longer each time.

Over the weeks, your visits to The Upside became a steady routine. Steve always greeted you with a smile that seemed reserved just for you, and Robin never missed an opportunity to tease him about it.

One afternoon, Steve handed you a book along with your latte. “This just came in. Thought you might like it.”

You glanced at the cover, touched by the gesture. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll let you know what I think.”

Robin smirked as she passed by, muttering, “Smooth move, Casanova.”

Steve shot her a look, cheeks flushing.

Another time, you brought in a stack of books to donate. “Figured they’d get more love here than on my shelf,” you said.

“Great taste, as always,” Steve said, flipping through the titles.

Robin leaned over the counter, stage-whispering, “Just ask her out already.”

Steve glared at her, but his lips twitched with the ghost of a smile.

Steve leaned against the counter, pretending to focus on the list of inventory Robin had scribbled earlier, but his attention wasn’t on the task at hand. His eyes kept drifting toward you, seated at one of the tables near the window with a cup of coffee in front of you and a book in your hands.

The sunlight streaming through the window illuminated your features, catching in your hair and making you glow. You were engrossed in your book, an occasional smile or furrow of your brows giving away your thoughts as you read. Steve couldn’t stop watching, his heart pounding in his chest at every subtle movement you made.

Robin, sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the counter as she sorted through a box of new arrivals, didn’t miss his distracted expression.

“Oh my God, you’re doing it again,” she said, snapping her fingers at him.

Steve startled, straightening up. “Doing what?”

“That thing where you stare at Love like she’s the lead in some cheesy romantic movie,” Robin said, gesturing dramatically toward him.

Steve frowned, crossing his arms. “I’m not staring.”

Robin gave him a look that said she wasn’t buying it. “Oh, really? Because you’ve been ‘not staring’ at her for, like, ten minutes now. You’re lucky she hasn’t noticed.”

“She hasn’t noticed, right?” Steve asked quickly, panic creeping into his voice.

Robin rolled her eyes. “No, Steve, she hasn’t noticed. She’s too busy living her life while you’re over here acting like a lovesick puppy.”

“I’m not a lovesick puppy,” Steve muttered, though his flushed cheeks betrayed him.

Robin snorted. “Right. You just can’t stop staring at her because… what? You’re admiring her reading posture?”

Steve glared at her but didn’t respond.

Robin grinned, leaning forward. “You like her.”

“No, I don’t,” Steve said automatically, though he knew it was a weak denial.

“Please,” Robin scoffed. “You so like her. Don’t even try to deny it, Harrington. You’ve been crushing on her for weeks, and it’s getting painful to watch.”

Steve groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Fine, okay, yes—I like her. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Robin said, her grin widening. “So why haven’t you done anything about it?”

“Because I don’t want to screw it up,” Steve admitted, lowering his voice. “What if I ask her out and it’s weird? What if she stops coming here?”

Robin’s expression softened, though her teasing tone remained. “Steve, listen to me: Love likes you. Trust me on this one. She laughs at all your terrible jokes, she lets you recommend books, and she spends way too much time here for someone who’s just into coffee and novels.”

Steve hesitated. “She might just… like the shop.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. She likes you. It’s so obvious. You’re just too chicken to admit it.”

“I’m not chicken,” Steve shot back, though his defensive tone only made Robin laugh.

“Really?” she said, standing up and brushing off her jeans. “Then why do you freeze up every time she walks over to talk to you?”

“I don’t freeze up!” Steve protested.

“Uh-huh,” Robin said, clearly unconvinced. “Look, Harrington, you’ve got two options: keep doing nothing and torture yourself, or grow a pair and talk to her like a normal person. Your choice.”

Steve groaned again, slumping against the counter. “Why do you have to make everything sound so dramatic?”

“Because it is,” Robin said with a smirk. “This is your big moment, Stevie. Don’t blow it.”

Steve sighed, stealing another glance at you. You were still focused on your book, completely oblivious to the conversation happening just a few feet away.

Suddenly, he straightened up, a thought popping into his head. “Wait… I have an idea.”

Robin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? Do tell.”

Steve gave her a look, his fingers tapping nervously on the counter. “I’ll just… give her coffee. On the house. You know, as a little gesture.”

Robin’s eyes widened in amusement. “Wait, that’s it? You’re gonna give her free coffee? Wow, Harrington. Such a bold move.”

“Shut up,” Steve muttered, but a smile tugged at his lips. “It’s something.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky she likes you, because this is honestly the most anticlimactic thing I’ve ever heard.”

But Steve wasn’t listening. He was already making his way to the counter, clearing his throat before calling out to you, who was still absorbed in your book.

You looked up, smiling at him in that warm way that always made Steve’s heart skip a beat. “Hey, Steve.���

“Hey, Love,” he said, already fumbling with the coffee machine. He was trying to look cool, but his hands were shaking just a little.

“Can I get you a refill?” he asked, focusing more on the machine than on you.

Your eyes softened, your smile widening. “I was actually just about to ask for one.”

“Well, it’s on the house today,” Steve said, trying to sound casual but feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “For you, Love.”

You blinked, clearly surprised by the offer. “Oh, wow. Thank you! That’s really sweet of you.”

Steve just nodded, still trying to avoid looking directly at you, as he poured the coffee into a fresh cup. He handed it to you with a nervous grin, which you returned.

“Anytime,” he said, voice a little more strained than he’d intended. He stepped back toward the counter, fighting the urge to keep staring at you.

Robin, of course, didn’t miss any of this. From across the room, she gave Steve an exaggerated thumbs-up and mouthed the words, You got this, making him groan internally.

You were already sipping your coffee, and Steve allowed himself to look at you again for just a second. You seemed genuinely pleased, the warmth of your smile making him feel lighter.

“Don’t back out, go for it” Robin says as she pats him on the back before going back to fixing the shelves.

It was a slow Tuesday afternoon at The Upside. The warm light streaming through the shop’s tall windows highlighted the specks of dust dancing lazily in the air. Steve was behind the counter, pretending to reorganize the coffee syrups but really stealing glances at you as you browsed the fiction shelves.

You had a small smile on your lips, your fingers brushing over the spines of books as you debated which one to pick. Steve thought you looked beautiful—effortlessly so—and it made his stomach twist in knots every time he saw you.

Robin, perched on the stool near the register, noticed his distracted glances and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Steve, if you stare any harder, you’re going to set her on fire,” she whispered, leaning toward him.

“Shut up,” Steve hissed, his face immediately heating.

Robin grinned mischievously. “Oh, come on, Harrington. This is painful to watch. Just go over there and ask her out already.”

Steve shook his head quickly, his voice low but insistent. “I can’t just… I don’t know if she even likes me like that!”

Robin rolled her eyes, hopping off her stool and leaning her elbows on the counter. “Are you kidding me? She comes in here all the time. She laughs at your dumb jokes. She even lets you recommend books—and you have terrible taste in books.”

“I do not!” Steve protested.

“You do, but that’s not the point. The point is, she’s obviously into you. You’re just too chicken to see it.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but before he could get a word out, Robin stood up straight, clapped her hands together, and said loudly, “Hey, Sweetheart!”

Your head popped up from behind a shelf, a book in hand. “Yeah?”

“Can you come here for a second? Steve has something he wants to tell you.”

Steve froze, his face draining of color. “Robin!” he hissed, wide-eyed.

You walked over, your curiosity piqued. “What’s up?”

Robin smiled innocently. “Steve was just saying he—”

“Needs help with the espresso machine!” Steve interrupted, practically jumping in front of her.

You blinked, clearly confused. “You need my help?”

Robin snorted, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. “Nice save, Harrington.”

Steve glared at her before turning to you, his cheeks flushed. “No, I don’t—look, can we talk for a second? Alone?”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly, but you nodded. “Sure.”

Robin gave Steve a smug grin as she stepped away, muttering, “You’re welcome,” under her breath.

Steve led you toward one of the quieter corners of the shop, away from prying eyes (and ears). He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly nervous, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“Okay,” he started, exhaling deeply. “So, uh, this is going to sound kind of dumb, but—”

“It’s not dumb,” you interrupted gently, giving him an encouraging smile.

That seemed to give him the courage to continue. “Right. Well, I’ve been, uh… I’ve been meaning to ask you something for a while now. But I kept chickening out, and then Robin decided to, you know, stick her nose in, because that’s what she does.”

You laughed softly, which made him relax a little.

“The thing is,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I really like you. And I’ve been wanting to ask you out, but I wasn’t sure if you’d… if you’d even want that.”

You blinked in surprise, your heart skipping a beat. “You like me?”

Steve nodded, his cheeks a little pink. “Yeah. I do. A lot. And if you don’t feel the same, that’s totally fine, I just… I had to say it.”

For a moment, you didn’t say anything, and Steve’s nerves seemed to spike.

“Love?” he asked cautiously.

You smiled, your voice soft. “I like you too, Steve.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You do?”

“Of course I do,” you said, laughing. “Why do you think I keep coming back here? It’s not just for the books or the coffee.”

Relief and joy washed over his face, and he let out a nervous chuckle. “Wow. Okay. That’s… that’s good. Great, actually.”

“So,” you said, taking a small step closer, “are you going to ask me out properly, or do I have to do it for you?”

Steve grinned, his confidence returning. “Right. Would you, uh, want to go out with me? Like, on a date?”

“I’d love to,” you said, your smile bright.

Robin, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping from behind a shelf, popped her head out with a triumphant smirk. “Finally! Took you long enough.”

Steve groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Robin!”

You just laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. Steve peeked at you through his fingers, his embarrassment fading when he saw how happy you looked.

“Guess that means I should start planning something great,” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

“You’ve got this, Harrington,” Robin called from across the shop, giving him a thumbs-up.

Steve shook his head, but he couldn’t stop smiling.

Steve had picked you up just after sunset, his car rumbling to a stop outside your house. You’d stepped out the door wearing something simple yet thoughtful, a soft smile on your face as you slid into the passenger seat.

“Wow,” Steve said, his voice soft, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment too long. “You look… amazing.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks. “Thanks, Steve. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Yeah, well, I figured I’d try to impress you.”

The car ride was filled with lighthearted conversation and a bit of nervous laughter, both of you falling into an easy rhythm despite the fluttering nerves. Steve drove you to a small, tucked-away diner on the outskirts of town, a place he’d discovered during one of his many aimless drives.

“It’s not fancy or anything,” he said as he held the door open for you, “but they make the best burgers in Hawkins. And the milkshakes? Life-changing.”

The interior was quaint, with vinyl booths and a glowing jukebox in the corner. The smell of sizzling food was inviting, and the soft hum of chatter created a comfortable atmosphere. Steve guided you to a booth near the window, where the glow of the streetlights outside cast a warm light over the table.

The conversation started light—books you’d recently read, Steve’s stories about running the shop with Robin (“She’s like a tornado, but I wouldn’t trade her for anyone”), and the little quirks of Hawkins.

“Okay, serious question,” Steve said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Pizza,” you replied instantly. “Easy.”

“Solid choice,” he said, nodding approvingly. “But you haven’t lived until you’ve tried the waffles from Benny’s. We’re talking top-tier breakfast food. You’ll see—I’ll take you there sometime.”

The way he said it so casually—like there would definitely be another date—made your heart skip.

By the time the food arrived, you were both relaxed, laughing over Steve’s high school antics.

“So you’re telling me,” you said, trying to suppress a giggle, “you actually styled your hair for gym class?”

“Hey,” he said defensively, though his grin gave him away. “It’s called priorities. And anyway, it worked. My hair survived dodgeball.”

“Barely,” you teased, taking a sip of the milkshake he’d insisted you try. It was, as promised, incredible.

Steve reached for his own shake at the same moment, knocking his hand against yours. The cup tipped slightly, and a streak of chocolate landed on the table—and on your sleeve.

“Oh no,” Steve groaned, grabbing a handful of napkins. “I’m so sorry. This is why Robin calls me a walking disaster.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s fine. Really. Chocolate’s a good look for me.”

He glanced up, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. “You’re taking this way too well. Most people would be plotting revenge by now.”

“Maybe I’m saving it for later,” you teased.

After dinner, Steve suggested a walk to help you “digest” (and maybe work off the milkshake fiasco). The park was quiet, the air cool and crisp as leaves rustled underfoot.

Steve walked beside you, his hands shoved in his pockets, occasionally glancing your way as if to make sure you were still enjoying yourself.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I was kind of nervous about tonight.”

“Why?” you asked, surprised.

He shrugged, kicking a small rock along the path. “I guess I didn’t want to screw it up. You’re… different. In a good way. I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him. “Steve, it’s been perfect. Milkshake disasters and all.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling in that way that made your heart flutter. “Yeah? You mean that?”

“I do,” you said, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet around you.

When Steve walked you to your door, the nerves he’d managed to shake off earlier crept back in.

“So,” he said, rocking on his heels. “This was… really fun.”

“It was,” you agreed, smiling.

“I, uh, I’d like to do it again sometime,” he said, his voice hopeful.

You nodded. “I’d like that too.”

For a moment, it looked like he might leave it there, but then he stepped closer, brushing a soft kiss against your cheek. “Goodnight, love”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

As he walked back to his car, a little bounce in his step, you leaned against your door, already looking forward to the next time.

The next time you walked into The Upside, the bell jingling above your head, Steve’s grin was a little brighter. And when Robin saw the way he looked at you, she just smirked.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Dark Things are to be Loved - Part 1

A/N: This fic is dedicated to my dear friend @clonethirstingisreal. Happy birthday, Carol! A gigantic thank you for hyping me up and letting me scream about Savage in your DMs while I was writing this fic; I couldn’t have written it without you.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Savage Opress x Reader (Fem; has hair and wears a dress)

Fic Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI) Note: there’s no smut in this chapter, but it is absolutely intended for an adult audience, as it deals with heavy themes. 

Wordcount: 2.5k

Fic Warnings and Tags: angst; language; toxic, controlling, and possessive behavior; discussions of violence and violent ideation; Reader is in a deeply unhealthy relationship with Maul; allusions to abuse; infidelity but it’s complicated; Savage is down bad, but he’s still a Sith and acts like one.

Chapter Warnings and Tags: jealousy; pining; violent ideation; allusions to drug use; collaring; misogynistic language from an antagonist; negative self-image.

Summary: After months of serving as your bodyguard, Savage is at his breaking point.

Suggested Listening:

This fic smells like: Jasmin Rouge by Tom Ford (heady, rich floral jasmine)

Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

-Pablo Neruda, “Love Sonnet XVII”

A Shadow Collective party could be described in a great many ways, but understated and restrained were not among them. Hundreds of guests had assembled in a commandeered villa overlooking the sea on some planet whose name Savage didn't have time to commit to memory. It didn't matter. They would move on soon enough, and nothing would be left in their wake but chaos and ruination.

The ballroom was packed, hazy with smoke, and unbearably hot. High above the crowd, a troupe of Pantoran aerial dancers writhed and undulated, their naked bodies glistening with sweat and glitter as they dangled from long swathes of shimmersilk in a display that was as impressively athletic as it was erotic. 

Nor were they the night's only entertainment. A Devaronian fire dancer was set up near the throne, spinning torches with dexterity and skill. If Savage hadn't been otherwise occupied, he would have started a betting pool on how long it would take some drunken fool to stray too close and get their ass lit on fire. As it was, he had no interest in the fire dancer, nor in the various other performers who were set up on small stages with poles throughout the ballroom, dancing in varying states of undress.

His attention was focused on someone far more fascinating.

His eyes tracked you closely as you wove through the throngs of guests. He stayed far enough away to not be driven out of his mind by your scent, but close enough to tear the arms off anyone who dared to touch you. He doubted anyone would be so suicidal, even under the influence of the spice that hung densely in the air. 

Pykes. Black Sun. Hutts. Death Watch. They were all present, and every one of them knew you belonged to Maul.

Even if they hadn’t recognized you as mistress to the lord of the Shadow Collective, they could not miss the sheer black and red shimmersilk gown he’d dressed you in—its plunging neckline deliberately chosen to frame the heavy, ornate gold necklace around your throat, just as the high slits in the skirt were chosen to display tantalizing glimpses of your legs. 

“Look,” the dress screamed, even as the necklace whispered, “but do not touch.”

Maul’s colors. 

Maul’s collar. 

Savage hated it.

He’d seen the marks it left on your skin: indentations deep enough to remind you of its weight even when you took it off. The first time he’d seen them, he’d nearly lost control and touched you. His fingers ached to brush across your neck; to soothe your angry, irritated skin; to feel your softness and warmth. Your neck was made to be kissed, not collared like a fucking pet.

But you belonged to his brother, and Savage had no right to touch you. In the months since Maul had ordered him to guard you, Savage had watched, always from afar, always careful to maintain his distance, never trusting himself enough to get too close. 

It should have been easy. It would have been easy, if only you’d been just another pretty face, another fawning sycophant jockeying to ingratiate yourself with Maul. Force knew there was no shortage of such beings simpering their way through the Shadow Collective. Any of them would have happily jumped into bed with Savage for the opportunity to get close to his brother.

He knew, because he’d taken full advantage of their ambitions.

But not you.

In truth, Savage wasn’t entirely certain what you saw in Maul that had made you agree to be his mistress in the first place. But he knew exactly what Maul saw in you. The perfect hostess; the perfect trophy. Brilliant, captivating, and beautiful. A prize to be displayed. 

A possession. 

Even now, as Maul surveyed the crowd from his throne on the dais, you circulated through the stifling, oppressive room, charming the powerful crime lords who’d assembled for the night’s revelry. They looked at you and saw Maul’s show pony. None of them noticed that there was something fragile—almost brittle—about your beauty that night. But Savage noticed. His keen eyes spotted the subtle evidence of stress and fatigue: the tension in the graceful line of your shoulders; the hint of darkness beneath your eyes that makeup couldn’t quite conceal; the slightly strained quality of your smile.

“She’s wasted on that freak.” The words bore the sibilant tones of a Pyke. “I’d like to get my hands on her and show her what a real man can do.”

“Don’t let the beast hear you say that,” their companion tittered. “Do you see the way it watches her?”

“Fifty credits says it does more than just guard her body.”

“I’m not high enough to take a bet I know I’ll lose,” the second Pyke retorted. “Toss your credits to the brute, and maybe it’ll let you have a round with her.”

Savage didn’t need to tear his gaze from you to know the identity of the speakers. He could sense them in the Force. The thought of removing their heads on the spot was remarkably tempting, but he restrained himself with some difficulty. He would deal with them after the party, when everyone was flying too high on spice to hear their screams. There wasn’t a single guest room in the villa that he couldn’t access, and they all had balconies overlooking the ocean. Very convenient for disposing of corpses.

The Pyke was wrong. Maul hadn’t let his lack of certain anatomy stand in his way when it came to you, based on the sounds of pleasure that made Savage’s stomach twist and churn as he stood guard outside your bedchamber every time his brother visited you. No one could accuse him of lacking imagination. 

When Maul would emerge, hours later, his smirk revealed that he knew exactly what Savage had heard, and that he wanted it that way. Savage was content to let his brother think he merely craved your body. It was safer than letting him discover the truth.

Because the truth was that Savage awoke early each morning to ensure the servants made your caf exactly the way you liked. The truth was that every day since he’d discovered your favorite flowers, a fresh bouquet had been delivered to your bedroom. The truth was that he knew your scent well enough to identify it in a room filled with hundreds of people. The truth was that he dreamed of the color of your eyes and woke up rigid and aching with need. The truth was that if he ever touched you, he might lose his mind and do something insane, like telling you that he saw your face when he closed his eyes; that when he prayed, it was you he named as his goddess; that he would bathe the galaxy in fire and destruction only for the chance to kneel at your feet.

The truth was that he hated that fucking necklace.

Even now, he saw the way it dug into your soft, delicate skin, the weight of it pressing down on your neck. It was too tight, and he wondered how you could even breathe. Had Maul had it altered to fit so tightly? It wouldn’t surprise him. The gaudy, flashy gold was to remind everyone else in the room who you belonged to, but the weight, the discomfort—those were just for you.

 Savage was not so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you working your way strategically toward the wide doors that led to the terrace overlooking the villa’s expansive gardens. As you neared the exit, he drifted toward you, navigating the crowd with surprising ease, considering the number of guests who were already so wasted that they barely knew their own names.

He glanced toward the throne where Maul sprawled with a look of boredom on his face. Kriff. Maul was never deadlier than when he was bored. He needed a distraction, or his attention would soon fall on you, and the results would be grim. Savage unobtrusively keyed a command into his vambrace, instructing the guards to send in a few more dancers to entertain their lord. 

He was fully aware that he was likely throwing the dancers to the wolf, and he didn’t particularly care. Their safety was none of his concern. Yours was.  He waited patiently, keeping one eye on you, until he saw that Maul was thoroughly distracted by a pair of Twi’leks wearing costumes that were somehow more provocative than if they’d been fully nude. Once he was certain that you were unlikely to be summoned before his brother, he faded into the crowd and followed you out into the night.

He stepped out onto the deserted terrace and immediately felt some of the tension dissipate from his body. The night air was crisp and cool, and it smelled of sea salt and the dense, lush scent of night-blooming flowers. It was a welcome respite from the suffocating heat of the ballroom. 

He spotted you at once. You were alone in the darkness, your form silhouetted by the moons’ light against the vast gardens below. He pressed a button on his vambrace to activate the ray shield across the exit, ensuring that no other guests would wander out and disturb your solitude, then he leaned against a pillar, cloaked in shadow as he kept a silent, distant watch over you.

You gazed out over the gardens, your back turned to him. He didn’t need to see your face to sense the turmoil within you as you leaned against the balustrade. Your hand drifted slowly to your throat and rested against the necklace for a moment. Abruptly, you ripped it off your neck and hurled it into the darkness.

“No!” you gasped, your regret at your impetuous act immediate and obvious.

Savage shoved himself off the pillar and crossed the terrace in three strides, catching you by the elbow with his cybernetic hand just as you turned to hurry down the stairs into the garden.

“Where did it land?” he growled.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” you whispered hoarsely, staring up at him with wide, panicked eyes.

“Focus,” he said curtly. “Which direction did you throw it?”

You turned back toward the garden, looking back and forth frantically.

“There, I think,” you replied, pointing into the shadows.

He scanned the area you indicated, but even his predator’s eyes could not make out any sign of the jewelry among the luxuriant vegetation. He stretched out his hand, concentrating with all of his mind.

There.

The necklace clinked faintly as he pulled it to himself with the Force. You watched him silently, your lips parting slightly as the hideous thing landed safely in his hand. He turned to you, knowing that he was about to make a mistake, and no longer caring. He lifted the necklace and placed it around your throat, his knuckles grazing over your soft, warm skin.

His mouth went dry as his heart began to pound. Up close, he was surrounded by that damned rich, intoxicating perfume that made his head swim—made him want to do dangerous things, like lean closer to you, bury his face in your hair, slide his hands down your body, hold you against him. His hand trembled, and he fumbled with the necklace. Stifling a curse and forcing himself to pay attention, he peered closely at the choker, and his stomach plummeted.

“The clasp is broken,” he said quietly.

“Oh, gods,” you rasped, horrified. “If he finds out—”

“He won’t,” Savage interrupted. “You were walking in the gardens.”

Your breath began to spiral out of control, your chest rising and falling quickly as your fear took hold. Savage rested his hand on the side of your neck, raising your jaw with his thumb as he tilted your head back to meet his eyes.

“Look at me. You were walking in the gardens,” he repeated. “You tripped over a root. The clasp failed when you stumbled. I’ll have it sent to the jeweler for repairs in the morning.”

He dropped the necklace into his pocket without ever breaking eye contact. Your eyes looked enormous in your face as you stared up at him, panting slightly. He wasn’t sure you understood him until you replied in a ragged whisper.

“I was fortunate you were there to catch me. Otherwise, I might have been seriously injured.”

He felt a muscle in his jaw spasm, and for an instant, he felt nothing but pure, unadulterated rage at his brother. Lurking beneath that rage was a sick, twisting sense of guilt at his own complicity. But you were still gazing up at him, and his hand was still cradling your jaw, and in that moment, nothing existed in the universe except your face. He brushed his thumb across your cheek, and your eyes drifted closed.

“It’s a collar,” you whispered so quietly he almost couldn’t hear you even though he was standing closer to you than he ever had allowed himself to do before.

“I know,” he replied.

“He doesn’t like people touching his things,” you said.

Savage drew in a short, sharp breath through his nose. 

“Things?” His voice was dangerous.

Is that how he thinks of you? Is that how you think of yourself?

“You are not a thing,” he rumbled. “You are…”

He trailed off, and when he did not continue, you whispered, “What am I?”

“You are,” he began again, then hesitated. “... Perfect. And you deserve better.”

Your breath caught, and he felt your pulse begin to race beneath his fingertips as they rested against your throat.

“I had a plan, you know,” you said quietly. “To leave.”

Savage momentarily forgot how to breathe, and he had a brief, unworthy thought. Leave? But then you’d be gone. It was selfish, and he knew it. He didn’t want you to leave. He wanted you to stay. With him. But he knew it would never happen—could never happen. Maul would hardly permit Savage to steal his mistress out from under his nose and flaunt you in front of the entire Shadow Collective. And what reason did you have to stay? It wasn’t as though you returned his feelings.

“What was your plan?” he asked.

You took a deep breath. “It was risky.” 

You began to shiver, and you swayed almost imperceptibly closer to him, tilting your head slightly to lean into his hand. He nearly kissed you then, but he held himself back with supreme effort as you continued to speak, your voice barely a murmur, soft and low.

“I was going to lure you away from the crowd, fabricate an excuse to get close enough to steal your lightsaber, then put it through your heart and escape through the garden.”

Savage blinked. In a flash, his hand left your face and flew to his hip, only to find nothing. His eyes snapped downward, and he saw his lightsaber hilt, clutched in your hand. Slowly, he raised his eyes to yours. 

Fool, snarled the voice in his head bitterly. You fell for it like the pathetic weakling you have always been.

Anger and self-loathing flooded him, but worst of all, beneath the nauseating swirl of humiliation and disillusionment, he felt the cold stab of betrayal.

Next chapter

[goodkenji]

I wasn't gonna post this but... eh. it's fine

[notmoreflippingelves]

[lovecanbesostrange]

Wolverine (Vol 3) #62 writer: Jason Aaron artist: Ron Garney color artist: Jason Keith

Historical first meeting between Logan and Raven in Mexico, 1921.