#but then you get closer and you see he has the kind of age lines that look as though he's been sliiightly shrivelled by the sun

[dilf-docs]

Call It What You Want

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: you and pedro are married, but you've kept it a secret up to the point you sometimes forget there's supposed to be a golden band on your finger. but then you both get cast in your first movie together. the chemistry is off the charts, and it starts to catch upon you: will the lines between shipping and reality finally blur?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (ñom), smut, dry humping, oral (m. receiving) while pedro wears the skirt™️ (welcome to another episode of the writer's barely disguised fetish), p. in v., teeny bit of angst because i malfunction if i don't bring sad vibes to the function, the worst ever attempt of comedy witnessed by human kind, they're so down bad it hurts, jealous!reader, possesive!pedro, reader speaks spanish and may or may not have direct/indirect latino blood somewhere, use of spanglish but no translations ☹️ (boo go do your homework, citizens. that's what u get for making my dieter bravo fic flop BYE), i transcripted two real interviews for this so keep those likes, reblogs and comments up in the air where i can see 'em 🪓🪓

word count: 11,706 words

side note: hello! this is me, sliding my cv to become president of the pedro pascal fics. i'm kidding, just on duty to fulfill another request 🫡 believe it or not, i envisioned something like this but for myself IJBOL we have to keep the delusional levels UP!! i hope this meets ur expectations, it was fun to write :)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Please welcome, the internet's newest darling, Y/n L/n!"

You walk into the set, cameras flashing bright and the band playing on the back. You hug Jimmy Fallon, and when he notices your body trembling he tells you everything will be alright. So did your manager before you stepped inside, but you can't help the nerves. You've never been this big before, and now it's all coming down together without letting you breath.

You take your seat and so does Jimmy.

"Hello, Y/n. This is your first time here, right?"

"Am I being too obvious?" you snort. The crowd laughs with you.

"Don't worry. It happens, especially when you're so young"

"Oh, please" you blush. "I can promise you there are kid actors who could handle this better than I am right now"

"Kid stars?" he lets out one of his famous cackles. "No need to be humble. You are great! Let's just talk about the year you've had: big breakout roles, ascend to fame, you're rocking it!" the crowd cheers, and you again turn into a flustered mess.

"Yeah, I suppose. It's hard to dimension when you've started as an extra for popular shows, to now being, you know, the main face of projects. But I could get used to it" you smile, "it's been a dream. I still can't believe it sometimes, look- I'm shaking"

The camera pans closer to the hand you're showing to Jimmy.

"Oh my God, even big stars like you get nervous"

"Big star? I wish I could feel like a constellation. I'm feeling more like a red dwarf star, baby"

The whole place bubbles in laughter. You feel better, your manager even giving you a thumbs up from behind the cameras.

"So, Y/n" Jimmy says once the laughter dies. "You just got casted in the upcoming Gladiator II movie, directed by Ridley Scott. How does it feel to be on your first big movie, alongside names like Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington and Pedro Pascal?"

You try to steady your heartbeat. "First of all, I have to say, it's such an honor to work with Scott. I grew up watching his movies. Like, Thelma and Louis is definitely my go-to movie. So, like, getting paired with such a talented cast is as awesome as terrifying" you answer with a laugh.

"Talking about that, you see" he leans closer, like he'll tell a secret. "I've heard things about you and a certain future co-star of yours"

You shift your position on the couch, your ring(less) finger itching. You have to avoid breathing in relief when Jimmy pulls out a picture.

"Oh. My. God"

He stiffles a laugh. No way. Has the room's temperature suddenly gotten hotter? Why is your face burning?

"Will you tell us the story behind this?" he asks, the camera focusing on the picture in question. The audience laughs, and you pray to God this is a nightmare, because it's too much embarrasment for a human to bear.

"Okay" you clear your throat, coughing awkwardly. "For my 25th birthday, I uploaded a bunch of pictures on Instagram, including ones where I was a teenager" you begin to giggle, "So. Um, there was this one, you see, that's, me, in my childhood home's bedroom, and my fans were quick to notice the poster above my bed"

"You mean, this one?" and Jimmy points it out. You cover your face with your palms. "It's a... Narcos poster" the audience laughs as you get redder. "A Pedro Pascal's Narcos poster"

"I know" you groan. "Picture this: me 18, and while my friends had posters of their favorite bands and artists, I was so different because I had a whole ass poster of a crime drama show about the world's most famous drug dealer on my bedroom" you recall with a laugh. "It was hard to explain to my mom. I believe she thought I wanted to sign for the DEA or something. When I told her I was going to be an actress, she was so relieved! She said: Oh, well. You'll die, but of hunger! Not a bullet in your head, at least"

"Oh. I'm so sorry. You proved her wrong though!"

"I did! Don't worry, Jimmy. She's my biggest fan now" you look at a specific camera before saying, "Te amo mami!"

"I see you speak spanish. I sometimes forget" he comments. "You've got one thing in common with Pedro, it seems. Think that'll make working with him less awkward?"

"I just hope he forgives me or I'm capable of moving out of the country and changing names" you giggle. "Pedro, lo siento!"

"Well, that's Y/n L/n, everyone! Pedro Pascal's number one fan" you burst out laughing in shame. "More on her lastest movie after the break"

mandoshoney: tell me i'm not the only one who started shipping pedro pascal and y/n l/n PLEASE can't wait to get content of them interacting ㅤㅤann-gell: mandoshoney y/n's pedro pascal's controversially young gf era starts now! i wonder how the press tour for #gladiatorII will go 🤔 unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they are dating ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess ptwt can never tweet like normal ppl…wdym you're betting your grandma?!!!?

You were never a fan of secrets.

But then Pedro waltzed into your life with his charming smile and iconic mustache, and before you knew it, you had married him off in some church in California one random sunday morning ("I love you so much, can't wait to marry you, cariño" "If you can't wait any longer, why not now?")

Flash forward, four years later, and you'd think such event would be plastered all over the internet. But there is a reason why only you, family, a selected number of friends and your agents knew: you kept it a secret.

To the world, he was Chile's most elegible bachelor and you were a young rising star. The public loved both of you for the same reasons: charming persona and acting skills. Yet inside the privacy of your home, he was Pedro and you were y/n, wife and husband; he was yours as you were his.

And of course, no marriage is perfect, and your first real challenge is rather funny: you both get casted in your first movie together.

It shouldn't be hard, but it is. Being inside the Gladiator II set during seven months, so far away yet so close at the same time, was torture. You were Rome's empress and he's Marcus Acacius, yet behind the scenes, the actual married couple were you both.

It was hard to pretend you didn't know what he looked like without clothes when he wore his bathing suit, or that you didn't know his favorite food when Paul asked, or acting like you weren't interested in dating when a local in Malta during your trip at the beach asked you out (he didn't know who you were. You were flattered when he called you pretty in such a hot European accent, but then Pedro appeared from seemingly "nowhere" and you remembered what your real favorite accent was. He immediately called you bonita after that)

It was so hard to keep hands to yourself when he walked by you, covered in fake blood. To not think about licking it all over and under his armour. So was to pretend the thought of dry humping him with his Roman skirt on wasn't tempting. Or that the urge to kiss him got harder and harder to fight each passing day, even getting to a point where you would envy Connie for being able to kiss your husband in the open more, a privilege you didn't have.

You were loosing your mental health here. But Pedro was no better.

It was so hard to see you, the Moroccan sun shining over your features like you were an angel. Otherworldly. That he'd see red when you'd finish filming a scene with Joseph, forcing himself to interrupt the small chat you'd engage in after. He too couldn't keep pretending he didn't want to tear off those silk dresses out of your body, and kiss you out in the open like Joseph did.

He almost failed once, cornering you in the hallway of the hotel you were staying. His hot breath lingered on your neck. I miss you, he had said. You felt his hard brush the inner of your thigh. We can't, you whispered in a dragged out voice.

It was hard.

So you gave him your used panties, and you swear you could hear him jacking off in the bathroom of his room, next to yours. He'd screamed your name, and your hand had found it's way to your dripping cunt, doing what he was supposed to do; touching you the way he did. And you came, drowned out moans against your pillow. But it wasn't like when he did it.

But God has heard your prayers.

For the first time in weeks, you're lucky. You find Pedro sitting alone in the cafeteria, his phone in hand. He's still wearing his armour and skirt, not bothering to change for the break. You aren't God's strongest soldier, but you're trying not to go down on him so badly right here and now.

"Hey" he raises his head when he hears your voice, smile adoringly. It only grows wider when he notices you alone. "Thought you'd never get rid of Paul. He's like, stitched to you"

"Same can be said about you and Joseph" you sit across him, and despite most of his tone being playful, there are still hints of jealousy behind. It arouses you deeply, and with this hot summer day above you, your skin isn't the only thing that's getting sticky.

"In case you haven't read the script, I'm his wife" you wink. "Sorry this is how you find out"

He laughs loudly, and God, how have you missed that laugh. Sure, it's been there when you've been out with the cast together, but it doesn't tingle your chest as when you're the cause of it; it feels like it's for you only, and that's what makes it special.

"I miss you so much" he whispers, his hand sliding across the table, finding yours. His thumb carresses your soft palm, and you melt under Pedro's tender touch.

"I do too" you sigh, but it's instantly replaced by what could only be described as a smug face. You lean closer, whispering on his ear, the warm meeting cold. He shivers. "Wanna know something?"

"I'm all ears"

"I just came back from walking. Guess what?No one is 'round here" you lean back against your chair, shit-eating grin on your face as all his body tenses up. "Made sure of it. The trailer zone is empty too"

Pedro gulps, his adam's apple bobbing as his eyes look at you.

"Y/n" calling your name as a warning.

"What? Can't a girl find ways to have her husband all for herself?" you snort. "Please say yes" you let go of his hand, but the free fingers now travel across his broad chest, taunting him. "C'mon, we both deserve a break"

He can't say deny you anything, can he? You know it, he knows it.

Before you register, his big hand engulfs yours as you run across the set. You giggle at his rushed steps, even more when you stand before his trailer and he's fumbling his slippery hands with the doorknob, sloppy movements erratic.

"But you told me to stop" you tease, and he doesn't even let you add more because he's pushing you inside, forcing you with rough calloused hands to a chair and then you to sit over his lap.

"Fuck, babygirl. I've spoiled you way too much" he groans against your lips. "Lo sabes, ¿verdad? Just can't say no to you"

Your eyes darken dangerously, the hunger on them mirroring his own.

"How could you ever say no to this?"

You press your chest against his broad one as your lip bites into his lower one, teasing. Pedro feels his underwear getting tighter when your tongue finds its way inside his mouth, even getting a glimpse of the taste of the strawberries you had earlier before.

He deepens the kiss, and when you pull away to catch your breath, he doesn't waste his lonely mouth and busies himself with the task of kissing your sun-kissed neck, licking and pressing his lips under your jaw. Pedro goes even lower, down until he's reached your collarbone, making you groan a bit under his wet sloppy needy mouth. He's enjoying how putty you are under his intense kissing, fingers in his curls, that have begun to damp under the ablaze of the small space and pleasure that fills the air.

"Kiss me again in my lips" you whine after a while of him teasing you with kisses that get only rougher. "Pretty please, papi"

You cup his face in your hands, and Pedro's back to kissing you in the mouth, tasting all of your insides as he hasn't had in what feels like a lifetime.

"Of course, baby. Missed this pretty mouth" he mumbles in between hot kisses, his now growing boner pressing into you.

"Baby" you giggle. The skirt he's got on may hide it, but your fingers refused to wait, pulling it up. His bulge presses against the shorts he's got under the skirt, and you can feel your pussy and mouth drool. "We have to do something about this big boy" your hands pull down the short, leaving just his underwear on. He's about to remove the skirt, but your demanding hands stops him. "This stays"

His brown concerned eyes make you laugh, but you don't give him time to think about it, rather grinding against his erection. Pedro's breath hitches when he feels your daring movements, bucking his hips against yours.

The friction is addicting, and he captures your lips once again to make you feel what he can't with words: how fucking good this feels.

You keep moving over his aching dick. Your husband throws his head back, groaning in pleasure at the way your hips move against him, knowingly. His hands find their way to your ass under the flowy almost translucent skirt you chose to change in, gripping the rosy skin tightly, hands almost covering all of it.

"You wore this for me, right, cariño? Knew I couldn't say no" he groans, firm hands on your cheeks, the grinding meeting his hips now harsher. "Less with you walking around with this slutty skirt of yours"

You make little sounds he's obssesed with, dripping out of your filthy mouth.

"Fuck" Pedro groans after a while, "I need to have you, mami. Missed you so much" eager fingers make it to your top. He growls, deep within him―guttural, ready to pull it off as he mumbles naughty wife when he realizes you got no bra on, chastising you for a "rushed" plan that seemed planned all along, when a sound cuts through the air.

You both stop.

The sound gets clearer.

It's a knock. A knock at his door.

A knock in Pedro's trailer.

And you are inside. Both.

While you're grinding him.

With his skirt on.

(It's time to build a bomb and kill yourselves off and whoever is stading behind that door)

"Pedro!" a familiar accent calls. Peudrou. It's Paul. "Hey, man. Just wondering if you are here"

He's debating on speaking up when he sees your red face and rising-falling chest before him.

"Answer" you whisper breathlessly. He tries not to groan when he fills you slip out of the spot in his middle while also trying not to think about murdering Paul as soon as he gets out.

Aside from the order, you're unexpectedly quiet, and Pedro quirks an eyebrow at you. He knows you better―you're his wife after all, and if there's something he's aware of, is your inability to loose.

"I'm here" tone clipped and annoyed. But no footsteps backtracking are heard: the Irish man is still there.

You bite your lip, watching the skirt with his legs spread, a sight too tempting. Also, he was still hard, as hard as the task to not go and keep doing your job.

Oh, fuck this shit.

Your devilish hand equals the grin in your face, fingers making their way toward his unattended bulge.

"What are you doing here?" Paul asks, but Pedro's attention has completely deviated, now focused on how they land right over his clothed dick, skirt pulled up by your other hand. "I thought you were at the cafeteria"

"Yeah?" but it comes out strained, yet the younger man doesn't notice or comment.

His hips raise when your fingers press his member, massaging it.

"Yeah" he uses a tone that equals a duh. "You texted me yourself"

Pedro rolls his eyes, wishing desperately he would go away, annoying him just as much as a fly hovering above fresh food. Talking about food, fuck, weren't you hungry? He tried to warn you, holding your wrist, but all resolve was lost the moment you looked in his eyes: he immediately pulled down his briefs, dick sprouting hard.

"Well, changed my mind" his tone falters in between words, member now free from the confines of his tight underwear.

"Are you tired, man? You sound tired" Paul comments on his tone. "Came to rest?"

You spit on your hand, and he gulps.

"Somethin' like that"

You start to jerk him off, leaving little wet kisses and licks just above his dick. Pedro's eyes are hypnotized, glued to every lick of yours across his girth, the spit making your movements smoother. Sexier. Fuck.

"Well, sorry to break it to you but rest time is over. They want us back on set now"

Your tight needy lips are wrapped around his his length and it's so hard to keep the talk normal when he justs wants to yell at Paul to fuck off. Your hand is there too; you are as of help as much as you aren't.

"I'll be there, Paul, just―Fuck!"

But his attempt to cover a moan doesn't go unnoticed.

"Are you alright in there?" he tries to enter, but Pedro locked the door. He's yelling he's fine, but Mescal doesn't sound convinced. "I can't go inside; it's locked. Are you sure you are okay, mate?"

"Didn't want you to take a picture of me drooling on my sleep" he manages to get out in a monotone voice. A real win if you take into account you've gotten to a point where you squeeze under his cock, massaging his balls.

"Smart move!" he chuckles from outside. "I guess I'll see you there"

Pedro covers a moan with his palm as he's throwing his head back in pleasure. He can feel his orgams looming over, minstrations growing sloppier around his pulsating cock, the need to fill your greedy evil mouth with his seed making him sick. He's a simple man: he just wants his pretty wife to fuck his cock silly and come in her mouth in peace. Is that so hard to get this days?

Paul seems to be finally gone as Pedro can't keep containing his grunts anymore, steps moving: until said steps sound closer again.

"Oh, I almost forgot, have you seen Y/n? I can't find her anywhere" it's coming. His orgasm is coming in the absolute worst moment. He can feel you gagging at his hard rock cock, hitting the back of your throat now. Still, your hands don't loose their grip on his cock and skirt, determination filling that sexy little body of yours. It was rather admirable the effort you were putting in this. "Think she went to the beach? She said she loved it. God, that little rebel. Anyway, if you see her, tell her-"

He leans his head back once again, seeing stars. No one knows him like his wife, truly.

The sight of you drooling from your chin, the wet sounds of him fucking himself onto your mouth as your spit-coated fingers pump his girth, you gulping down the precum from his tip, his fingers holding your face roughly by the cheeks...

"Yes, Paul, yes!" Pedro barks, barely hiding the moan that erupts from his ribcage, thick shots of his hot cum hitting your tongue and deep of the throath. "Fuck off and let me get ready"

"Jesus, mate, chill. I'm sorry. See you there"

And Paul Mescal's hovering fly ass is finally gone.

"Poor Paul" you say as soon as you pull off his length, voice raspy as you huff for air. Pedro lovingly cleans rests of your saliva and his cum from your chin as he chuckles at how much audacity, courage and horniness could fit in such a small young body. "You've ruined the friendship"

"You think?" he licks off some as you sit on his lap again, tongue directly on your face. You feel aroused again, but time's up. "It's your fault. That and this"

He points down.

"Just as you used that pretty head of yours to think of the trouble you just made, think of an excuse for Mr. Ridley about the skirt"

at0michips: wait wdym paul is sick??? ㅤㅤl-u-n-a-m: at0michips he's died vnightx: i'm wondering who'll do now the do you even know me interview with pedro now :( i was so excited!!! hope they don't cancel it :( ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: vnightx i bet my grandma it's y/n ㅤㅤat0michips: unhing3dprincess why do u keep betting ur grandma omg 😭😭😭

"You know what I think would be fun?" Pedro comments while you wait for the interview's set to be prepared.

Tour press has finally begun. That meant you could go home for a while after the filming wrapped, just to be back for the promotion of the film. You were excited of course, the experience new and thrilling. After much needed battery recharging and husband/wife time, you were ready to take over the world.

But then Paul got sick.

Today's interview was scheduled to be him and Pedro, but since he was unavailable, they paired him with you, since you both spoke Spanish (which felt slightly racist in your opinion), and because Fred and Joseph were already paired up for the other.

You leave your coffee, knowing he's about to say something stupid or endearing, perhaps both, brown liquid probably spilling out of your mouth. Or worst, nostrils.

"Tell me"

"What if we left little hints that we're together?" his smile is one of mischief. "Like you could wear my cap, or I could wear a chain with your initial around my neck, like Ryan Gosling did at the Barbie premiere"

"Or as Taylor Swift sang" you counter. "But Pedro, dear, you're underestimating our fans. You don't think they'll match it sooner than we think?"

"Maybe" he agrees. That's just what I want. "What's funny is we're about to do a type of interview where we could blow our cover"

"Maybe" you repeat, "or maybe you don't know all about me as much as you think, Mr. Pascal"

He fake gasps, feigning hurt. "Is this a dare, Mrs. Pascal?"

"No" you try to be mature for once, cutting the banter as much as you'd like to go on and kiss him right there. "Also, remember to answer incorrectly sometimes, you know..."

"There's no way I'm letting you win though"

"Pedro, no seas necio!"

The producers arrive just in time to let you know it's ready.

"After M'lady" he's back to being charming as he is, not as husband charming but just Pedro Pascal charming. The nerve of this guy to do it in front of the LADbible crew.

"Whatever" you grumble, the nerves getting the best of you as you realize this interview may or may not give away more than you've been allowed before.

"Hello, I am Y/n L/n" you present yourself. Wow, the camera is really close. This isn't going to end well.

"And I'm Pedro Pascal"

Hearing his voice soothes you. It's okay, y/n, you got this. "And this is Do You Really Know Me- No wait, it's do you even know me. Okay, let's start again: Hello, I'm Y/n and this is-"

"I don't even know anymore" Pedro jokes, making you laugh. "Do you even know me?" he asks while looking forward, now making the crew laugh.

"This is Pedro Pascal, that'll do" you sigh.

"This is gonna be sad, she's not going to know any of these" he says, but in reality, he's mocking you, the mischief in his eyes glowing as he only looks at you tauntingly.

"Same can be said about you" you tease, "we're like a million years away"

"That's not true!" he gasps, "I watch your every move" punctuating each word. God, you try not to make a face. "I have Google alerts on you"

If he was gonna play, so were you.

"Glad to know I have you alerted" with the sweetest voice ever, seeing how his friendly façade falters for a bit at the tone you've used. You laugh, and Pedro takes the chance to laugh it off too.

After the introduction, they ask one of you to keep score, and you offer yourself because, well, you don't trust Pedro.

"I'll go first" you say. "Which was my first ever role in the industry? As an extra during an episode of Stranger Things, as a voice actor in A dog's purpose" you can't help but laugh, "or as a back-up dancer in Hustlers?"

"In Hustlers?" Pedro inquires in disbelief. "You're telling me you were in Hustlers?! I didn't even know you could dance!"

Lies. You and Pedro sometimes put some bachata and dance in the kitchen. God bless Juan Luis Guerra.

"Jennifer Lopez and I are practically besties" you answer nonchalant.

You know the answer. He does too. But he chooses the last one for comedic purposes.

"I'll go with Hustlers. Now that I'm looking at you, you do have a... dancer face"

"It's okay, you can say the forbidden word. I'll take it as a compliment" you laugh, "you're wrong, though. The answer is Stranger Things"

"No way!" and it sounds as if he genuinely didn't know. Good lying son of a bitch; Jim Carrey on Liar, Liar would've been proud.

"Yes. If you look in the background of season two, on this one episode where Nancy and Steve appear to have broken up during a halloween party, you can see me drinking from a cup on a corner"

"That's so crazy"

"Yeah, I was twenty already, yet playing a highschooler" you giggle. "Wow, time flies by. Anyway, we're both at zero. Your turn"

"What film did my dad not let me see at the cinema when I was, uh, ten years old?" Pedro reads from his card. "Rambo: first blood, The Breakfast Club, Day of The Dead"

"I'm going to base this in the year you were born. Okay, so 1975. Let's see" one of the things Pedro loves about you is that you're like a film encyclopedia, but right now, that'll cost him a point. "They all came out the same year, and they were also R rated. Hmmh, I'll choose The Breakfast Club"

Your analysis was just mindless bragging really. You knew the answer the moment he started reading the question, because the anecdote came during a time he heard you listening to the movie's soundtrack ("Did you know that my dad...")

"You complain about Paul all the time, but you're just the same" he comments. "She's a real competitor, people!"

You flush in embarrasment. "Okay, that's one for me. Next question" you read the card in your hands. "What pet do I own? An orange cat named Louis after my favorite singer, a fish, or a Shih Tzu named after my brother"

The orange cat lives with you both. You're curious as to how he'll answer.

"You aren't naming a Shih Tzu frickin' Fernando" he laughs, so loud, it ends up catching up to you and the crew. "I'll go with the cat"

"That's correct" you lament. "How would you know?"

As if the damn cat doesn't love him more than he loves you.

"I follow you on Instagram" he defends himself. Clever. "We are, um, what do you call it-"

"Oomfs"

"I'm not gonna try to pronounce your made up language. Okay, my turn. Which of these characters I've played in Saturday Night Live? Naughty daddy, protective mom, or weird uncle who has a creepy sneeze" he reads out loud in a confused tone.

This is easy. It was all over your timeline.

"Protective mom" you answer on a beat.

"This isn't fair, that was really popular!" he complains.

"It's still two for me and one for you" you mock. "Now, what is the nickname the internet has given me? I won't give you clues because it's an easy one"

"Easy? You said we were million of years apart and now I'm supposed to know?"

"Well, you seem to manage Instagram so I think you'll be just fine" you tease, and Pedro just wants to rip that smirk off of you. So he caves in first.

"It's people's princess"

"What?!" your eyes grow comically large, shimmering with betrayal as you shout with an incredulous tone. "I can't believe you know" more like can't believe you said it.

"You're royalty! How am I supposed to not know that, internet darling? Besides, told you: I keep my eye on you" and he winks.

This motherfucker. Oh, he's totally sleeping on the couch tonight.

"Talk about internet darlings" your snarky tone comes out, and Pedro knows he's pissed his competitive wife off. "I guess we have a tie. Your turn"

"What are the initials of my full name?" his brows furrow. "I forget. JBPP, JPBP, JBPP"

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite. "B, of course"

"But that's too easy, everyone with Google knows it!" but then he's leaning into your ear, whispering in a very low voice to make sure only you hear. "I'll let it pass, though. Love hearing you pronounce my name, mami"

Your face grows obscenely red. "I'm back ahead. Let's see if you can keep up. Okay, here it goes" you read the card, "what is the director I've stated I want to work with? Greta Gerwig, Pedro Almodóvar, or Quentin Tarantino"

"Pedro Almodóvar, no? You said you were jealous I had already worked with him" he playfully nudges you. Too much contact, face hot again. Maybe in group interviews you'll do better, because right now, you're doing a rather poor job at controlling yourself, even as an actor; you can already picture your agent pulling her hair behind the cameras.

"It's Greta Gerwig, actually"

"What?! No way, you told me this!" he grumbles. "This game is rigged"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still jealous. I just think working with Greta Gerwig is peak womanhood, and I gotta live that. So, Greta, if for some reason this silly video gets to you, call me. I promise I'm not that childish"

"She is" Pedro slips in, "don't call her. So unprofessional" in a mocking exaggerated tone.

"Whatever, you sore looser. Me three, you two. Next!"

"Fine. Which of these songs would I have played at my funeral? My Heart Will Go On, Purple Rain, Nothing Compares To You"

He looks at you, silently pleading you to not answer correctly. Your competitive side screams in agony.

"I have no idea. Why do I feel you've already said it somewhere, though? I'll go with Nothing Compares To You, because the first its too corny for you and the second too epic"

He scoffs, amused at the fact that you did obey, but at what cost? Pedro's well aware his princess can get as competitive, if not worse, than Paul.

"You're saying I'm not epic enough for Purple Rain? Too bad, because that's the answer" you grunt, crossing your arms. "That's right, I am cool enough to have it played. I guess we're tied again!"

"No, you don't loose a point. It's still three to two. This just gives you the opportunity to tie"

"W-wait a minute"

"Settle down" you pat his thigh, "you can still try, handsome"

He gulps when your hand meets his skin, despite the layer of clothes. It's still something that gets him on edge, no matter the years you've known each other. And handsome? You came here for blood.

"Okay, here's your chance: what image of me became trending topic on twitter? An image of me eating a typical dish from my country, an image of me watching Deadpool and Wolverine with glasses while Hugh Jackman's shirtless scene reflects on them or C, me meeting Taylor Swift at the backstage of the Eras Tour"

"The typical dish is tempting" he muses out loud, "but I'll go with the Taylor Swift one because that sounds like something that'd trend"

"You're right" you throw your card. "I'm not complaining though. Best day of my life"

"Does this mean I'm winning?" he beams excitedly. "Oh, in your face Paul! I will finally win something!"

"Slow down, cowboy. There's still some left"

He purses his lips. "Let me have this one thing, would you? Guess not. Here it comes" he starts to read his card, "At school I competed in state competitions, in which sport? Soccer, lacrosse, swimming"

"Swimming" you answer hastily, trying not to think on Pedro wearing tight little swimsuits, as you've only seen him wearing swim trunks.

"Okay, that's dissapointing. Please continue"

"I participated in which play while I was in highschool? Hamlet, The Iliad or Much Ado About Nothing"

You doubt he remembers. The only time it ever came up, was when you visited your parent's house and a photography of you during said play was showed to him by your dad.

"The Iliad, right?" you laugh. The answer is wrong: It's Hamlet. "What? I swear it was that one! It's just you have very..." beautiful is at the tip of his tongue but he refrains himself, "...very greek features"

You can't help but laugh.

"Why of course! This is a face people go to war for"

"I agree" your heart skips a beat, "but I don't think I'll make it that far, if we talk about a war"

"You big fat liar!" you slap his arm playfully. "You've played all sort of characters, from soldiers of all nationalities and places, and like, superheroes, f*****g Joel Miller, even a DEA agent. You at least learned something!"

"Wow, slow down, this isn't a filmography recount" he jokes. Liar, you mouth to the cameras. "Okay, last one: I became a viral sensation for eating what type of sandwhich in LADbible's snack wars: BLT, PB&J, grilled cheese"

You remember the video fondly. Even your brother had sent it to you, along a text that said: Isn´t this your husband?

"PB&J, I win!" you cheer, instantly getting off the chair to do a celebratory dance. Pedro doesn't say anything, just throwing the cards away while the fondness of his eyes betrays him.

pyramiidsf: i want someone to look at me the way pedro looks at y/n mybritishstyle: guys they're just friends 😭 he's like that with all his female co-stars ㅤㅤann-gell: mybritishstyle me when i'm delusional af mandoshoney: where's that girl that's always betting her grandma??? SHE WAS RIGHTFLKRGJ

"Hello, I'm Paul Mescal. I'm here with my friends from the cast of Gladiator II" Connie and you both raise your palms to greet the camera, laughing when you realize you'd done it at the same time, "and we are going to play a game about how well we know each other for Vanity Fair" the irish man introduces the interview you're filming today.

"Did they prompt you?" Pedro speaks up, "or did you just make that up on the fly?"

You laugh a bit too loud, hoping they cut it off in the editing process.

Paul goes first, taking up a card with the first question written on it.

"Okay. Question: What's my least favorite day of the week?"

"Tuesday" answers Joseph once Paul is done reading. "Oh, you're writing it down?"

"Yeah" he answers.

"You just wrote Tuesday" Connie points out, Paul's card on his legs. You laugh along the rest.

"Yeah" he repeats laughing. "I actually, when you said Tuesday" Yeah, he said Tuesday Pedro adds on the background of laughter. "I was like...I'm gonna give everybody a point for that"

"I think I deserve a point for being observant" Connie complains.

Everyone gets a point and Paul moves towards the next question.

"What was the name of my character in Normal People?"

"Connell" both you and Joseph answer, looking at each other before squinting your eyes playfully.

"Callum" Pedro answers out loud at the same time, and you laugh. He clearly had slept when you played it for a re-watch last summer.

"No, you're out" Paul pokes Pedro next to him.

"Connel" Joseph repeats, and Fred agrees to the same answer.

Paul then asks Connie what's hers after he confirms you three.

"Connor?" she asks, confused.

"Incorrect. Three points" while pointing you three.

"You got wrong" he tells Pedro, "Callum's a different character"

"See? You just don't pay attention when you watch things" you blurt out, stopping yourself before adding the with me. It would be harder to come back from that, but so is this as everyone looks at you, even your husband, subtle panic in his eyes. Where the cameras this close? How long had you been silent?

"It's just, quick funny story" you improvise. "Pedro didn't know much about Paul's career, and as I am a fan, I took the time to show him and recommend him your stuff" Paul smiles. "Clearly, my fanatism didn't rub on Pedro but a girl can try"

He laughs, before saying "So the answer is Connell" and you try so hard to remain normal like the energy hasn't shifted.

"He only plays characters with the letter C in the name" Pedro jokes, chewing on a toothstick he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. More laughs follow, and you are so grateful for how he's handling your little metida de patada.

"What's number one on my bucket list?" he asks next, "and don't look at my answer"

The marker is the only sound to be heard, and then Pedro jokingly tries to take a peek.

"No peeking" Connie berates as Pedro laughs.

"You're not gonna be able to see that" Paul replies in an anyways tone.

You repeat the same joke, before Fred blocks you. "Not you too!"

Paul finishes after a while, Connie commenting it was long. Joseph raises his hand.

"Yes, Joseph"

"Is it to see the Great Wall of China?" he asks.

"No, but it's in that-"

"It's close, isn't it?" you interrupt.

"...family of thought" he finishes.

"It's to go and see something" Pedro points out.

"Okay. Rajasthan" tries Connie. "Go to Rajasthan, for a tour"

"Travel to South America" Paul interrupts with the correct answer, "I've never been to South America"

"I'm from South America" Pedro comments, never missing a chance to shout out his dear Chile.

Paul jokes about him getting three points while the rest of you laugh.

"I was born in South America. 17 points for Pedro"

"I want points too" you jump on the joke. "I know Spanish, so I can take you there and avoid you getting lost, mi querido amigo"

"But who was born there?" Pedro counters, "you get no points"

"I think Joseph is the only person who gets a point there" Paul adds, "because everybody just jumped on the bandwagon"

"He said to visit the Great Wall of China" Pedro protests, "which is nowhere near South America"

"It really is not" Connie agrees.

"Qué gente tan tramposa" you complain. "That's unfair. I remove my offer"

"Think about bucket list, and he came up with travel to bit" he tries to reason Joseph's point.

"And by the way, where in South America?" Pedro questions.

"Don't fight, don't fight" pleads Joseph, the calm one. Fred just sits there, enjoying the chaos.

"I want, any, I want to do a big tour of everywhere" Mescal defends himself.

Pedro doesn't back down. "'Cause it's very different"

Paul starts to get angry too. Jesus, men. Competitive men of it all.

"I know it's very different" making an annoyed face.

"Well, different is nice" you intervene, a hand placing in Pedro's left shoulder. "If you stop giving points for free, I'll come with you to the big everywhere tour"

"Alright" Paul agrees. "When's my birthday?" is the next question.

"February" all of you say.

Joseph struggles with the date first, saying seventh, then fourth. Fred tries with ninth, Pedro with eight, and then Joseph starts counting from one to two. Fred counts from eleven to twelve.

"Second" Mescal reveals. "Point to Joseph"

"Oh my God, you guys are good" Connie mentions.

"That's all my questions" and it's time to move on the next one: which happens to be your dear husband, Pedro.

"Paul is like" he brings up while the toothpick dances on his teeth, "Paul is motivated to catch up on points. He's coming for you" to pick on his competitive side as Mescal looks deep in thought.

"He's coming. He's coming" Joseph repeats as Fred laughs.

"What is my full name?"

"Oh! Pedro-" Paul tries in a blink. "Something, J? Jose? Juan?"

"Pedro Pascal, something, something" says Joseph.

"Nope"

"No?"

"Pedro Maria, Jose Maria Pascal" Paul struggles.

Pedro is about to answer when your voice cuts through the air.

"It's José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite.

"It indeed is!" he says, smiling a bit too much. "She gets a point"

"Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" your husband repeats in a more english-friendly pronunciation, looking at the camera while toying with his toothpick.

"I said Jose, I said Jose" Paul protests.

Pedro shakes his head. "You said Jose, but then you put it-"

Connie takes Paul's side. "You did say Jose"

"But then you put it behind Pedro which eliminate- which disqualified you" he replies.

Paul gets angry. That sore looser.

"That's absolute bullshit"

"Don't worry mate, the game has just begun" you joke, making the man more irritated. "Think you can get ahead of me?"

"Joseph is still ahead, y/n" Paul counters, still irritated. "Besides, wouldn't it be cheating? You can speak Spanish!"

"So? Not like speaking a language allows you to know every person's name Paul" you mock. He just snorts, despite still being half angry. Pedro is allowed to continue, trying not to make a face at yours and Paul's banter.

"The question is, who is my favorite actor?" he reads. As the cast members laugh, he uncaps the marker with his mouth, and now you have to try not to make a face, thinking about those teeth sinking into your flesh.

Quinn raises his hand. "It's me"

"That you're my favorite actor?"

"Yeah. You said that to me once" the bald man sounds sure of it.

Paul tries to think in the background. So do you. How can you not know this? he must've brought it up at least once.

"Do you remember?" Joseph insists.

Pedro finally remembers. "I said you were- I said I thought you were special"

"Oh" he sounds rather dissapointed.

"And special can mean a lot of things" he jokes, laughing by himself. Fred laughs with you as Joseph makes a face, your laughter turning even louder when you notice Paul all moody, trying to get this point.

"Who's your favorite actor?" Paul asks, "I think we just have to shoot from the hip here guys"

"Marlon Brando?" Connie guesses.

"Is it Harrison Ford?" Fred guesses.

"Let's go with Harrison Ford just because he's my favorite actor..."

You can't believe you didn't know this. You've re-watched and watched so many Star Wars content together. He gives you a brief look, knowing you're embarrased at your lack of answer.

"As a kid?"

"He's most influent, yeah" Pedro agrees.

"What job did I have before I became a full-time actor?" is next.

"Dancer. You were a great dancer" Paul aswers. Both Fred and Joseph repeat it, adding he was specifically a go-go dancer.

"Oh, he is" you add. "Videos of you dancing are lovely. Ever thought of getting back in the bussiness?"

He laughs, what appears to be a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Sure, darling. When you ask me to dance, I'll be there"

Nobody comments on this, too busy waiting for Pedro to say yes or no to the answer they believe to be right. But he isn't saying it is. Now you remember why.

"Come on, come on, come on" Paul begs.

"Can any of you guys remember?" Pedro pleads.

They insist that he danced in Spain, then New York, then settle with Spain again, even Pedro confirming so. But it still isn't the answer written on the card, no matter how much the boys insist.

"Connie?" he tries. She just looks confused.

"The answer in the card is-"

"Waiter" you answer. "You were a waiter"

Now you have three points under your belt.

"Why do you always say the answer at last?!" Paul grumbles. "You are cheating!"

"I'm not" you laugh the accusation off. "You just can't accept I'm better"

"Si que lo eres" Pedro agrees. "Es divertido hacer que se enoje Paul"

"What did you say about me? It's not fair, you're probably sharing the answers!" he's still adamant on insisting with the supposed cheating issue, making you laugh.

Now it's Connie's turn, who starts with: "How many languages do I speak?"

You put a puzzled look.

"You speak seven, eight maybe" Joseph guesses. Pauls says she speaks french, "but most likely seven"

Pedro points his finger at him. "Once he gets going, he's on a roll"

"Joe's got it" Connie agrees.

"Paul, end this reign" Pedro jokes. He looks rather frustrated.

"And the bonus points" Connie offers. "Okay, bonus, what are they?"

"This is an emperor's reign" your husband adds.

Joseph answers: Italian. Danish. English. Swedish. French. Spanish. Norwegian.

Connie agrees she speaks Spanish, making you jump in excitement.

"Oh, I didn't know that!" you beam. "Wait, does that mean you did get what Pedro and I gossiped about you?"

"What?" Joseph asks.

"Nada" you quickly correct yourself. "Yo no dije nada"

"Not that much. I just speak a bit of Spanish. I mostly dominate my own language, German and English"

"You blew our cover!" Pedro nags, hitting your bare leg, yet its devoid of anger.

"He needs a bonus" comments Connie, surprised at Joseph.

"This is horrifying" Pedro says when Joseph gets another point and a fricking bonus on top of that. "This is a slaughter"

"Oh, for which film did I have a gym built in my garage?"

Both Joseph and Paul answer the question correctly, saying Wonder Woman. The latter is quick to state they both get that point.

"That's one for me" Paul says, then looks at you. "And none for you"

You stick out your tongue at him as Connie reads the next card.

"If I were to take this cast on a vacation where would I take you?"

"Ibiza" answers Joseph. Connie agrees in Spanish, with a cute and excited correcto.

Your husband feels the need to crack a joke at Quinn's expense.

"Somebody was paying attention to Connie Nielsen very closely during the shooting of this movie"

"Okay. What is my favorite curse word in Danish?"

"Fuck" Pedro tries.

"No"

"Nobody is going to get that, Connie" Paul bickers.

"Oh, I don't know any Danish" you lament.

"At least now you know how it feels" Mescal drops, making you snort. You playfully kick him on the ribs with your shoe.

"It's very simple" Connie gives as a clue. "It's the same word in every language"

"Shit" Paul tries.

"Satan" she reveals.

Everybody is laughing in confusion at that, saying there's no way you could use that.

"Vos Satan!" Connie curses.

Now it's Fred's turn.

"What is my weirdest on-set habit?"

"I haven't noticed you do anything weird on set" Paul tells.

"I have" Pedro interrupts.

They all get on a small briefing about what could it possibly be, that it was weird, and wasn't part of his character, as you ponder. It was funny before, but now Paul is behind you by a point. So think fast.

"Yeah. I would say being yourself" Pedro jokes, but surprisingly, it works.

"Me! Five points for Pedro" he celebrates as you all laugh. "Love Fred. Oh, Fred"

"Oh, oh, okay" he moves to the next question. "What is my favorite reality TV show?"

Joseph tries with Survivor and Paul with Alone. Truth is, you don't watch any show of said kind, only vagely hearing about Love Island.

"You and I have talked about reality TV" Pedro reveals, "It's just that we never identified one"

They keep guessing shows that sound like a foreign language to you.

"You know what's offensive? That I'm the second youngest of this cast and I have no idea what are you all talking about"

"She's not to be trusted" Pascal quips, "can't trust someone who doesn't appreciate the art of reality TV"

You huff, annoyed.

"Is it A&E stuff?" Pedro asks.

"Yeah, it's the competitive cheapskates" Fred answers. "It's people that really save money on everything"

Pedro gets the point because he mentioned the A&E bit.

"There's like this amazing guy that made a stew out of fish bones, and I just thought it was incredible" he shares. Then, moves to the next question. "What is my go-to crafty snack?"

Nobody remembers eating snacks on set, and Fred gives the clue that it's a drink. Joseph says it's a smoothie, and he does remember it but it isn't the answser.

"I'm thinking of something specific. That Emerge-C that you put in the water"

"Oh, that's very good" you agree, so does the rest, even discussing the best colors

"Who in the cast would I ask to bail me out of jail?"

Everyone even Pedro agree its him. Everyone gets a point, yet Joseph remains ahead.

It's Joseph's turn. "What is my favorite sport?"

"Skateboarding" Paul is so quick to answer, earning him two points for both being correct and time.

"What celebrity do I get mistaken for?"

"Daisy Edgar-Jones sometimes" says Mescal. Of course he had to bring her up.

"No, she gets mistaken for me" Joseph jokes. "Yeah, poor Daisy. But I'm writing it down"

"That was the two letters?" Pedro notices. Still, no one gets it.

It's fucking Justin Timberlake. You'd never guess that.

"What is my favorite film franchise?"

You've probaly named all the existing franchises to no avail. You think fo your dad, a huge geek, trying to remember if there is one missing.

"Oh- Lord of the Rings!" you both answer with Paul at the same time.

"C'mon!" his celebration is short lived when he realizes you tied to him.

"What is my favorite British slang word?"

Pedro says it can't be said, but Quinn insists they can, even adding it's his favorite one too.

"We can say bad words? We can say-?" but the camera beeps over it.

The answer is Bellend. What even is that? Joseph feigns sadness and Pedro keeps apologizing, even as you sit on the chair.

"Okay. I'm last"you wiggle your eyebrows with interest. "Let's see. Okay, first question: what did I take from the Gladiator II set?"

"You took something?" Joseph asks on disbelief.

"Why wouldn't I take something?"

"Is it like an item or memorabilia?" asks Connie.

"It's an item" you uncap the marker, scribbling down the answer.

"It's a short word" Fred points out, but still can't provide a guess.

"You took the rings home" Pedro answers. You snap your had on his way, probably obvious. "What? You told me" he says.

Of course Paul complains. "Hey, that isn't fair! He knew the answer before!"

"Well, if you payed more attention to me, you'd know it"

Lies. Pedro knows because it's sitting in the jewelry box inside your house.

"See? I do pay attention" Pedro playfully hits Mescal.

"I could pay you more attention" he looks at you.

"Alright, then do. Ready? Next question: what is my go-to movie? Oh, this is a good one. I'm always changing it, but most of the time I end up choosing the same one"

They all give you a puzzled look as you scribble.

"C'mon, guys! I've said it on interviews before too. Paul?" the man shrugs. "Thought you said you'd pay me more attention. Heads up, you're doing a terrible job so far!"

"Hey!" he protests. "It's not fair if the answer's changing. Give us a clue"

"You didn't give any clues to yours!" you giggle. "Besides, I don't want you to win"

"Hey, that's against the rules!"

"I'd say it depends on the season" Pedro speaks up. You quirk an eyebrow. "Like, if it's changing, I don't think your Christmas go-to movie is the same as your summer one"

"Actually" you smile fondly, "that is true. On summer, it's Mamma Mia. So I suppose, if you can't guess the one, that'll do"

"No" he smiles, cheeky. "I know it too"

"Yeah?" you challenge, "what is it, then?"

"It's Thelma and Louise" he answers, and your heart beats fast.

"How do you know?" Paul inquires. "Somebody was paying attention to Y/n L/n very closely during the shooting of this movie"

Ah, his joke from earlier. Joseph giggles behind him. Karma, he supposes.

"She said it on an interview, guys. C'mon, learn your sources!"

"Okay" you clear your throat. "What movie got me into acting?"

"Thelma and Louise" Joseph tries.

"No" you laugh, "you're just recycling the answer"

"Is it an old or modern movie?" Connie asks.

"Hmh, old" you pause, "just not... I don't know if you'll ever guess it"

"Is it a Pedro Almodóvar film?" you shake your head. "What? You're always mentioning him!"

Pedro looks into your eyes amid the others' discussion, and you can tell he remembers the conversation.

"There isn't one"

You smile, chest pounding at his soft tone.

"That's correct"

"A trick question?!" Paul yells. "I quit"

"When there's just one left?" you tease.

"Yes, because you've been hiding it all the time but no more" he counters, pointing both you and Pedro. You feel the space getting smaller, breaths going from even to noticeable. "You are sharing answers"

You try to make your breath of relief pass as a chuckle.

"I'm not even gonna win, relax. And drop the charges, please. Loose like a man"

"You didn't explain it though" Connie speaks. "What did Pedro mean?"

"While I have many movies that are inspiration to me, they aren't the reason I chose this path. I did it because I saw an Oscar's ceremony when I was 11" you explain fondly, feeling warm at the memories. "I still remember when they handed the award to Diablo Cody for best original screenplay. I don't know, man, it moved me. What it meant for young artists who came from nothing. I guess I wanted, one day, to be the one standing there, for other dreamers to see it's possible"

"Wow, that's beautiful" Connie says.

"Thank you" you get flustered. "Suppose it was worth it, you know, to do interviews about not really knowing my cast mates" and laugh.

"How does Pedro know, though?" Joseph asks.

"We talk a lot" you clear your throat. "Last one: what indie horror movie did I make a small appearence in? I'm feeling generous because it's the last so I'll give you a clue. It's a Stephen King adaptation"

Paul is the first to speak. "You where in a-"

"Yeah but it wasn't such a huge role. Don't make yourself any ideas"

"I have no idea" Connie surrenders. "Other clue, as in how many words?"

"It doesn't even have any words" you laugh. "You give up? It's 1922. Was an extra as well. Made me think Netflix had my name highlighted in the extra call sheet, because I did so many minor and background roles during that year. Grateful, though, because now I get to be Rome's empress and not fortune teller or highschool #6"

The interview ends, and the camera may or may have not captured the last seconds, Pedro's gaze fixated with you the entire time.

elysyannemimi: we all saw that right? GET PEDRO AND Y/N IN A ROMCOM ❗THEIR CHEMISTRY IS INSANE❗ at0michips: love paul and y/n so much 😭😭 gimme enemies to lovers RN ㅤㅤbobgirllll: at0michips wait what if paul and y/n are secretly dating 😳 ㅤㅤann-gell: bobgirllll quick question are u dumb unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they're married. it has to be. trust me ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess BESTIE U ARE BACK

You arrived in London today. The premiere will be in a few days, and things have been, well, hectic.

Lux couldn't stop talking all the plane ride, but your mind kept going back at the email your manager had sent you before you had boarded the plane.

It's catching upon you, read the haunting message. Attached below, a TMZ article that claimed a regular church attendee had seen you both getting married. It also used a lot of the noise fans had been making on social media, connecting dots or just hyping up the undeniable chemistry. It ended with a little paragraph saying it was obvios, and they're just hoping you'd confirmed it.

You came to realize you didn't care about it anymore. Sure, the pushing around annoyed you, but the thought of still keeping your marriage under wraps feels pointless now. Why wouldn't you shout to the world how in love with your husband you are?

Yet, when you arrive at the hotel, you keep the same protocol of arriving after Pedro, who has already checked in with two keys, claiming its for him and his sister, while you ask for the key to Lux's actual room. After you swipe cards with her, you head over the room you'd be sharing with your husband.

His face appears in your frame, everything happening quickly.

"Get inside. Now"

Your body is dragged inside the hotel room, not even giving you time to swipe the key for yourself.

"Pedro!" you exclaim, between surprised and confused. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Did you read it?"

"What? The article?" your tone is filled with annoyance. "Yes, I did. Why?"

"What do you mean why?" he snaps, voice raising higher. "Don't play dumb with me. You know fans have fuelled the rumors, and tabloids have started digging every corner in fucking California"

"So, what? You're acting as if people finding out is the worst thing in the world" you roll your eyes.

"It is, yes!" Pedro bursts out, caving in to the stress.

It feels like you've been hit across your face.

"Excuse me?" you seethe, hurt etched all across your features. "Would it be the worst thing in the world to admit you're married to the person you supposedly love the most?"

"I love you, y/n. It's just-"

His voice softens, trying to reach for you, yet you pull back, his hand falling to his side in an akward manner. He sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"I love you" he repeats, sounding much more sure this time.

Your frame seems smaller as your voice comes out hoarse, filled with emotion, appearing to be in the brink of tears:

"Then why do you act like you're embarrassed of me?"

He hates himself for making you feel this way, making you think things that aren't true.

"I don't. Never" he emphasizes. Then, tries to reach once again when you move a little bit closer to him, recognizing that's your way of letting him know you're ready. "You're the most precious thing in the world to me, don't ever think the opposite" then he sighs, heavy. "I'm just scared"

You silently ask him to explain, rubbing his thumb soothingly across his tattoo.

"You're so young, and I'm, well- I know we're aware of it, but people are cruel and the press is ruthless. I don't want to see your name dragged across the mud because you decided to marry me. Your career is starting, and I'd never forgive myself is something happened to you because of me. Not trying to make this about me, yeah? But this industry is fucked up. You've work hard to get to where you are, and it'll be unfair if you'd loose it. I'm scared because us..." he wavers, words trailing off. "I want us to be. I wouldn't want to live in a world without you, i-it would kill me not to have you be my wife"

You desperately want to kiss off the worry on his face, but let him finish.

"N-not saying our love is weak, or anything! That a couple of opinions or tabloids will- you know? Just, I-I don't want them to break us apart. Mi vida, you're the light of my life. Please, forgive me, I-"

He feels his throat closing up, words failing to come out. You sense the grip on your hand to be stronger, immediately letting loose of it.

"Hey. C'mere" your voice is tender, allowing him to bury his face in your stomach as you comb his messy curls with your fingers. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere"

He lets himself melt under your touch, his mind loosing itself in the soft of your digits and your perfume up his nostrils. He's again breathing normaly, hands now hugging your waist.

"There you go. Better?" Pedro nods, still not being able to talk. "That's okay, take all the time you need. We have all day"

"Do we?" he raises his view, his eyes soft yet there is something else to the brown shade.

You hum as to nod. "We agreed to join Lux for dinner. It's barely 1pm"

"Tell me you're thinking it too" his voice cuts throughout the air, boucing off the tapestry on the walls.

You laugh, nervously. "I don't think I do"

"Hmmh, I see" he stands up, towering over you. "You sure you don't?"

"You sure you want this?"

Before you know it, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, cutting off all words to be said. What a waste of air, anyway. You are quick to reciprocate, whimpering against his lips.

Pedro picks you up like you're as light as a feather, his arms flexing as he carries you and places you on the bed, frame hovering over yours. He breaks the kiss to breath, but you're pulling him back in, his hold on your hips tighter and the wet spot in your panties wetter.

"Look at you, pretty baby. So needy" he whispers against your face, hot breath lingering above your lips. "And mine. Mía. Only mine"

"I am, yes. Yours only. Need you so bad right now, papi" you answer in a rush. "Now shut up and fuck me"

"Con gusto" he chuckles darkly, "gotta keep the wife happy"

"Happy wife, happy life" you recite, stripping him off of his plain shirt, revealing his toned torso, bulging biceps defined by the movements. You gulp. "Fuck, papi. Gotta thank Marvel for this. I love all of your versions, but I can work with this too" you dreamily stare at him, your hands cupping his face.

He strips the rest of his clothing, but a cute blush adorns his cheeks.

"Yeah, well, it's Scott's fault too"

Your impatient fingers reach the middle of your panties to rub your clothed pussy, letting out a sound that darkens his hazel orbs.

"Fuck that guy" you mutter. Pedro laughs.

"Thought you said you loved the guy"

"Until I learned what he said about your body" you groan, still rubbing. "Connie told me"

His hands now travel to remove your clothes, almost ripping them off.

"Who cares? I just want to fuck you now" he breathes out, practically drooling at the sight of your damp panties. "Lemme take this off too"

He unhooks your bra, seeing the hard nipples. The urge to lick them is so bad, but his desire to fill you silly to the brim is stronger.

You see his hesitation, which is why you grab him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss. He kisses back fiercely, labored breaths as he struggles to focus on your lips, his wet mouth darting to your jaw, neck and collarbones. His hands roam all over your body, needy.

"Gotta be inside of you, mami. Can't wait any longer"

"Then stop waiting" you plead, tugging at his boxers with urgency.

Seeing you so cockhungry, lips parted and pupils blown wide makes his hard dick twitch with anticipation.

He mutters a labored fuck, aligning himself to enter your sticky folds. Pedro enters your tight pussy with a low groan, burying himself deep inside of you, used to his length by now. You're basically begging for it, nails digging and eyes supplicating.

He can't deny you anything, can he?

A messy whine leaves your widened mouth as you adjust, pleasure mixed with pain.

"Mhmm" you moan.

"Mhmm what?" he mocks. "You asked for it. Now take it, cariño"

He thrusts deeper into you, watching in awe how his dick enters your pussy; it was always perfectly, your pussy made for him.

"You're drippin' baby" his rough voice caresses your cheek. He kisses the are, giving a lick to the sweat starting to form. "S'fucking tight too"

You move your hips towards him, trying to augment the friction. The overstimulation starts to cloud your sense, reducing you to a whiny mess as you grip his steady arms.

"I can't think of anything but you, baby" he confesses between grunts, "filling up your pussy to the brim, you dripping with my seed for days"

You moan at the filthy words.

"Love how you take my dick, amor" stretching you as Pedro moves in and out. "S'made for me"

"Yes" you moan, skin slapping sounds bouncing off the walls. "Fuck, I love your dick..."

His pace picks up, and it comes to a point where he's just fucking you silly, his grip on your hips surely to leave a bruise as you keep spilling obscene sounds of pleasure from your lips.

"Your pussy's mine, yeah? No one else gets to have you like this"

"N-no, just you, Pedro. My h-husband" you manage to squeeze, more moans vocalizing the pleasure you felt with each thrust, his big dick inside of you moving in a a steady rhythm, making your eyes roll back further and orgasm closer.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, and he finds impossible to resist the urge anymore, licking the sensible skin and hard nipples, your hands moving to his back, scratching him harshly, both chasing your release.

"Please!" you whine out loud, not caring how desperate you sound.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

But your husband knows you, so he indeed starts to fuck you harder, heavy breaths and slippy kiss noises hanging in the spaces between each thrusts. He pants with every motion of his dick, a knot forming on his belly.

"Shit, baby. I think I'm gonna cum. Gonna come so hard"

"Do it. I'm on birth control, remember?" you groan, feeling your high approach as well. "Fill me up, please. Give me all your cum"

Your bodies move as one, precise thrusts hitting exactly that sweet spot of yours repeatedly, chasing your orgasm. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with his and then he's saying:

"I love you, y/n. So much"

Your heart skips a bit, his dick twitching inside as his gaze glimmers with adoration and possesiveness, teeth grazing your skin with marks for him to call you his.

"I love you too, Pedro. More than you know"

A final thrust is delivered. Fuck, feels so good you think you hear him say. Just like promised, he fills you with his release, shots of his thick, warm cum inside your sticky walls. You follow soon, back arching, toes curling, and both head and eyes rolling back. Pedro falls on top of you, his broad body collapsing over yours, as you both pant hard, trying to steady your pulse and breath. He then removes himself and positions you to be the one on top now, lazily throwing the covers over your bare bodies. We need to shower, you said, but he argued you'd do it later before going out.

"I needed that" and you happily hum in agreement at your husband's dragged out words.

Your head falls and rises, with the movement of his chest, silence settling on the previously filled with sex noises room. That until he speaks up:

"One day, I'm gonna fill you up so good until you have my babies, mami" he murmurs, just then realizing what he said. But you snuggle closer, hand and legs drapped over his bare body. You look at him closely, seeing nothing but certainty on his eyes.

I choose you. I'll always choose you.

"Whatever it is with you" your nose brushes his, a small sweet kiss on his lips, "I want"

His eyes shine, probably with tears or the glow of affection.

"Let's do it"

"What?" you look into his eyes for any sign of doubt, bull all you see is love. "Pedro, are you serious?"

He nods. "Wouldn't you want that?"

You feel the corner of your lips pull up.

"Never have I wanted anything more"

poppysplayground: Y/N AND PEDRO RED CARPET DEBUT AT THE LONDON PREMIER OF GLADIATOR II WTF I JUST WOKE UP ptwt is in SHAMBLES mostannoyingbillioner: UM HELLO pedro showing up with two hot women on his arms LUX GIMME A CHANCE pompeiianbollockr: WAIT WDYM THEY ARE MARRIED?!??! ALL THIS TIME?@?#? HOW???! NEED BIGGER CAPS TO SCREAM I'M GOING INSANE at0michips: that article better come out now or i'll burn the TMZ building ann-gell: not me thirsting for a married man 😭😭😭 how they kept this a secret for so long?? we should've noticed ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: ann-gell i did. knew betting my grandma was the way all along ㅤㅤpyramiidsf: i'm gonna start betting my grandma too

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @trashcora

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ask Around in the Morgue

Most times, Tim is not a fan of social interaction. If he can acquire the necessary data from literally anything written in text, without the need to actually talk to people, he does that. It's the logical thing to do, come on! People lie, or, even if they don't, they take ages to get to the point, and you can't put them on pause or set aside to return later. Some written resources lie as well, but that is, at least, way easier to prove by relying on several of them instead of a single one.

That saying, he can work in a team — Young Justice is great proof of that. Batfamily, not so much, but then, none of the Bats like working together. Because they are all hypercontrolling, manipulative, and paranoid.

And yet, keeping all that in mind, right now Tim is about to go and speak — using his mouth and words — to a GCPD mortician whom he's never seen or met before in his life.

All because of this report.

More precisely, because of the line 'pls come talk to me if u r a bat' that was inserted right into the file, just between the description of contents of the victim's stomach and the rather unappealing photo of the same thing. Tim supposes the placement was intentional — most people skip over that kind of information, jumping straight to the cause of death. Which is a homicide, by the way.

Not that it's anything unusual in Gotham.

Tim walks through the hallway, keeping his steps silent. Daniel Nightingale, the mortician, more accurately a pathologist, works graveyard shifts — very ironic and no less convenient — and most days, he does so all alone, so Tim is not expecting company. He is just keeping quiet out of habit.

And yet, as he gets closer to the autopsy room, he hears it. The chipper, amused voice from inside.

"You can't just make that shit up, I swear," it laughs, "Oh, Minerva. You were way too old to pull it off." There's a pause, and then it starts speaking again, filled with hidden laughter, "You don't say?"

The door is, thankfully, already half-open. Tim takes a quick look inside, hoping to figure out who's the other part of the alleged conversation, but the only person there — erm, the only alive person — is a guy in a gray uniform and a lab coat. Supposedly, Mr. Nightingale. There's also a corpse of an old lady on the table in front of him, of course, but Tim doubts she can hold up the conversation. A phone call? Or maybe he's just talking to himself?..

The guy raises his head briefly, turning to the door.

"Come on in, lurking in the shadows doesn't suit you," he calls, almost cheerful, and Tim pauses.

He's pretty sure he hasn't made a single noise.

Oh, well. Maybe he did. Maybe the pathologist has an alarm system in case of a zombie apocalypse. Maybe he sees the future. The possibilities are endless.

Tim steps inside.

"I'm here about your note," he says, cutting the greetings and niceties. The pathologist hums, his eyes still on the bare, skinless ribcage of the woman before him.

"Cool. Which one?" He asks without missing a beat. Tim stares; the guy looks entirely too nonchalant, given the circumstances, but that's not the only reason. Daniel Nightingale is way younger than Tim expected — twenty, at most — and he is... well, if Tim had a type, which he doesn't, he would definitely check all the boxes. Most of the boxes. A lot of boxes.

Okay, he's just good-looking, what is he even thinking about, this is getting sidetracked.

"There was more than one?" He asks because that's the logical, reasonable thing to ask. Daniel glances up at him. A tiny strand of hair escapes his pinned down bangs, and the guy huffs, shaking it away from his face. Shouldn't he be wearing a hat?

"Yeah, I put the bat alert in at least five reports I've written. Only two recently, though, so, if you could specify?" He asks. The loose strand of his hair moves all on its own, brushing itself up over Daniel's head. Then, one of the bobby pins comes out, hanging in the air briefly, and goes back into Daniel's hair, securing it from falling again. "Thank you, Minerva," the guy smiles politely, casting a glance to the side.

Tim is not sure what's going on but he has a hunch.

"I'm speaking about John Doe from last week?" He attempts, but Daniel only hums.

"Unfortunately, that doesn't narrow it down," he turns back to the table, looking down into the old lady's open abdomen with a critical eye. "Darling, do you think you'll be fine here all on your own while I speak with our dear guest?" He asks, almost demurely, and Tim is not dumb. Minerva is definitely the name of the lady on the autopsy table. The question is, has the GCPD hired a schizophrenic man during such dire times, or is the guy really some kind of ghost-whisperer?

The chances are, honestly speaking, 50/50. It's Gotham.

There's no response that Tim can hear, but Daniel straightens back up and takes off his gloves before turning to the other side, still away from Tim. "Mind cleaning up?" He asks again and then throws his gloves into the nearest bin. They don't land, but just as Daniel huffs and goes to retrieve them, the gloves float up from the floor like someone invisible picked them up and dropped them into the bin.

"Ah, thank you, Minerva," the pathologist smiles.

Tim feels an uncomfortable chill run down his spine.

"How many ghosts are in here?" He tries for casual, but fails spectacularly, judging by Daniel's chuckle.

"Five," he answers without any pause, "Six, if you count the nonverbal kid that's hiding in Page's cold locker. Anyway, John Doe?.."

A few of the instruments Daniel has used float up from the table and start moving towards the nearest sink.

Tim takes a deep breath.

Either he's gotten himself a new contact in GCPD forensics or a very alarming new meta. 50/50.

But Daniel's smile is 100 percent going to be a pain in his ass.

[glossykissies]

. . . thinkin’ about hot neighbour nonsupe!ben who you just can’t control your expressions around . . . ૮꒰ྀི > . < ꒱ྀིა 

it’s not your fault. he’s hot, he’s old, he’s big and strong and he has you absolutely bouncing off the mattress. you don’t care who knows — sorry, let’s rephrase. you want everyone to know.

ben has finally allowed you to be his girlfriend. not that the grumpy old fuck didn’t want it, hell— who wouldn’t want it? but he’d just moved into the neighbourhood and for a while he just wanted to keep things relatively drama free, and that means not banging your 20-something year old neighbour and having everyone in your small town treat you like some kind of mass murderer for defiling the peoples princess. if he was gonna do this, he wanted to keep it a private affair. he just wanted an easy life. privacy. no one in his business.

but then he remembers your cute little face looking up at him when you’d knock on his door asking him to fix your air conditioning (again) and the way you came round to borrow some salt and immediately took your shoes off at his door even though you didn’t need to and just looked so familiar and comfortable in his presence. or, his brain flies to the way you squat over his lap and cried as you tried to cram him all inside your sopping hole at once and whined “i — lemme take it all — i can get it in jus’ go slow!”

so now he’s got a girlfriend in her early twenties. and he fucking likes it.

especially, and he won’t admit it, but especially when you’ve got this giant hulk of a man standing in a queue to buy you an iced vanilla oat milk matcha. he won’t get his own one but he’ll try some of yours.

his arms are crossed over his chest, thick biceps pinned to his own body but you hang off one— having slot your hand beneath it just to hang off him. he’s looking ahead, scowling at the hipsters and teenage baristas and overpriced drinks, probably going on some whole monologue in his mind about how ‘back in his day, you could get a coffee for bla bla bla, and there was no iced drinks just pure hot coffee etc etc etc.’

but you’re gazing up at him. gazing doesn’t feel like a appropriate word because your eyes are telling a different story with a load of bad words. you’re scanning his profile, from his tired eyes to his strong nose to the lines on his face. you’re one soft sigh off a quiet moan, drool pooling inside your mouth with the overwhelming urge to drop to your knees and spit on his cock right there and then. everyone can see you. everyone can tell that this man is splitting your cunt open. it’s enthralling.

“you don’t think a nine dollar drink is a little uh… fuckin’ ridiculous?” he drawls, voice deep and aged. you suck your bottom lip, not listening a word handsome.

when you don’t respond he leisurely drags his gaze over to you, stares back before shifting his stance to turn his body a little more toward you, which in turn drags you closer by the way you’re still gripping his arm like a vice.

“whats with the look, kiddo?” his voice is flat because he knows.

“mm.” is all you say with a giddy, watery eyed little smile.

the barista says “next please!” and he unfolds his arms, letting your hand drop. you usually would have pouted about this but he briefly cups the back of your neck, just firm enough to send you spiralling into that dumb brain space that makes your panties sticky. his thumb strokes the pulse point on your neck and he raises his eyebrows, lines of age in his forehead.

“didn’t dump enough cum in that pussy this morning babysweet?” he asks like it’s completely normal, and just as your eyes gloss over he’s stepping up to the front desk, leaving you frozen behind. “yeah i’ll take one of those fuckin’ green iced things. oat milk.”

[imadhatt3r]

It kinda irks me when people call Black Mask "Truekechi", because that's not really the case...? Not entirely, at least.

I mean yes, of course, Black Mask IS a part of Akechi's personality, I'm not denying that. The thing is, that it isn't Akechi's WHOLE personality. This kid just went through the biggest crashout of his life, his whole plan he's been meticulously working on for years failed, and the worst part is that it didn't even lead to what he was after, so he didn't even get the revenge he wanted. Of course he's unstable and edgy, I mean, who wouldn't be?

That is not to say that his anger and edginess aren't a part of his "true self"; I'm sure that his glee at taking out shadows is absolutely real, for example, but I believe that it comes from him just being angry in general- at Shido, at Maruki, and at himself. Akechi is rough around the edges, has a short temper and has a tendency to look at others from above, but the situation he's in boosts these parts of his personality as a sort of defense mechanism.

I think that his mementos conversations give a really good insight into this too; Perhaps it's due to my older age compared to the characters in-game, but a lot of Akechi's lines feel so... Forced on his side? He's the one to bring up that other Thieves probably don't want to have him on the team, or that they're unsettled by how he fights, but nobody even said anything about it in the first place...? Even other characters seem kinda done with his act, either that or they accept him being on the team due to their shared goals; Some are even quite nice and friendly, all things considered. This just feels like Akechi's self-loathing twisting itself into this kind of quips because he himself doesn't want to get too comfortable on the team; He's scared of growing closer to the other Thieves, so he tries to keep them at arm's length. He can't just tell them "I think I'm a horrible person" straight up (his pride wouldn't let him), so he has to make himself "unappealing" in other ways.

There's also the other side of these conversations, where you can see him just... Being a kid. He whines about being hungry, or thirsty, or his legs getting stiff in the car, he talks about mundane things with other Thieves like graduation or sports... He's just a teenager as much as his teammates are- it's just that the others weren't hired as assassins at 15 and didn't grow up obsessed with the plan to kill their father. His emotional development and maturation process have clearly been impacted, on top of everything else he had to deal with. So he may act "adult" and more mature than others at first glance (at least before he reveals Loki), but inside he is just as much (if not more, in some aspects) of a kid as the other Thieves are. This means that he is still at the age and mental development level where he is still figuring out himself, who he is, what path to follow etc. It also means that he is prone to being overly dramatic, emotionally extreme, and have poor emotional control- you know, teen stuff.

The key to it all becomes his ultimate persona, Hereward. We all know that Akechi has two personas, but he doesn't get two ultimate personas, he gets only one. I think that it's symbolic of his psyche slowly melding itself into one again. It's not that either one of his "sides" was truly fake or real; Both the Detective Prince and Black Mask ARE parts of the "real" Akechi- it's just that he has been systematically compartmentalizing his whole self into two for YEARS. The awakening of his ultimate persona is him starting the process of healing and allowing these two sides of him to mix and reconnect back into one.

I honestly think that, with enough time and the right environment, Akechi's most extreme traits would even themselves out, and he would stop being AS short-tempered, snarky, and blood-thirsty as he is in the game. He will never be the perfectly plesant Detective Prince, but he also won't be the angry, self-loathing and vengeful Black Mask. He will be something new, something different, a fusion of the two opposite ends of his personality spectrum. Only then he will live as his fully true self.

[mediumgayitalian]

"What was that for?"

He is warm, and soft, and he smells good.

And when Nico catches him by surprise, he touches the tips of his fingers to the swell of his lips, eyes wide, freckles blinking like stars.

Nico hides a smile, rocking back on his heels.

"No reason."

"Not that I am complaining," Will hastens to explain, "uh, I loved it, actually, I just -- I am kind of gross? I was gonna go run to take a shower before I woke you and --"

Nico leans over and kisses him again. From this angle he can -- the sand pit for volleyball is just slightly lower than the bleachers, and if Nico stands on the second step, he can just...lean over. Will's lips are right there, even if it is more a press of mouths than a kiss with Will's rambling.

It stops, though, when Nico kisses him. He clams up and kisses back like he's afraid Nico is going to stop.

"Was that one just 'cause, too?" he says, when Nico lets up. Nico pulls away and notices that he is breathless. That could be the game he just played.

It could also be the little tinge of red around his cheekbones -- barely, really, anything -- and the way he darts his eyes between Nico's mouth and his eyes. Experimentally, Nico leans slightly forward. Immediately, Will closes his mouth, then his eyes, waiting.

Nico waits, too, grinning. When Will cracks one confused eye open he cannot help but laugh, and Will shoves him, scowling.

"You're teasing me," he accuses.

Nico quiets his mirth in his hands.

"A little."

"You're mean."

"Mhm. A little."

He leans forward, again, past the threshold of middle ground between them. This time Will waits, evaluating, pout on his bitten-red lips. He narrows his Carolina-blue eyes and Nico takes the time to watch them, to memorize them. He thinks of brilliant butterfly wings and fire. He thinks of afternoon skies. He thinks of shallow, splashing lakes, of robin eggs and icebergs. Of scorpions and scales and flower petals. He thinks long enough for Will to believe him, again, to fall for it; he thinks he could get away with making him wait, again, but finds he doesn't want to.

"You taste like strawberry," Will mumbles, and presses himself closer, "the candy kind."

Nico smiles against his mouth. A bribe, of sorts. Will's tongue licks along the seem of his lips, determined to taste more. Nico allows it and slides his hands up his belly in his distraction, resting on his chest. He swears he can feel when his skin gives way to dark ink, long-healed as it is. There is less of a buzz.

Will pulls away, slightly, although there isn't much to go.

"I'm supposed to -- get ready."

"Mhm." Nico kisses him again. He resists, or he tries to. Nico hovers, for a moment, candy breath and all, and he cracks in second. "What was it you had to do, again?"

"I --" Nico swipes his thumb along the line of his ribs, featherlight, and he twitches, trembles; "I --"

He is so easy. It is like he has buttons red and tantalizing for Nico to press, and his impulse control has never been good. Nico memorized them ages ago, and uses them at his leisure; Twizzlers, before a game, dipping his hands in ice water so they're cooler than usual. A fingernail against his ribcage, a flat palm on the heart of his tattoo. A little bit of height, and the promise of a kiss, of the end of one.

Like a detonator.

"Don't stop," Will sighs, forgetting. Nico can almost see the list of responsibilities float from his brain, wrapping around Nico's head like laurels. He curls his fists to avoid the crow of victory bubbling in his throat, wrapping his hands in strands of Will's hair -- another button.

He tugs.

Will whimpers.

Easy.

"Won't," Nico promises, and kisses him again.

[cei1ne]

—How the Bakusquad reacts to you in lingerie for the first time! PT.1 (AGED!UP)

❀•°•════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════•°•❀

* . ｡ ✿ *Summary: The aged up MHA men see you in lingerie for the FIRST time ever

☾ ⋆*･ﾟPairing: Bakugou Katsuki ; Kirishima Eijirou ; Denki Kaminari ; Sero Hanta

˟̑**̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇Tags/Warnings: Teasing ; Lingerie ; Hero x reader ; Seduction ; Hickeys ; Body Worship

⑅୨୧⑅*Wordcount: 8k

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷A/N: Yeah this is my first time writing smut but this only like fufu ass smut like nothing too serious other than high school locker stuff but yeah enjoy it

❀•°•════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════•°•❀

Bakugou Katsuki – “The Moment You Asked For This, You Sealed Your Fate.”

It’s not that Bakugou Katsuki has a problem with being caught off guard. No, he’s usually the one catching others off guard. He’s the one who keeps everyone on their toes with his temper, his sharp tongue, and his volatile nature. But there’s something about you standing in front of him, dressed in lingerie, that paralyzes him.

His eyes go wide for a brief second, then narrow as his breath catches. He stares at you as though you just hit him with an explosive blast of your own. His usual smirk falters as his gaze travels over every inch of your body, the lace hugging your curves in all the right places, the delicate fabric making your skin appear even softer under his scrutiny.

“What the hell?” he mutters under his breath, and for once, you can tell he’s genuinely stunned.

Bakugou Katsuki, the hard-ass hero, the guy who’s never caught off guard, is now standing there in shock. His voice is hoarse as he speaks again. “Damn it, Y/N. What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

You take a step closer to him, unable to help the playful smirk curling at the corners of your lips. “What? Don’t like it?”

He takes an instinctive step back, his fists clenching, his mouth a tight line. “Like it?” He scoffs. “You’re fuckin’ with me, aren’t you?”

The tension in the air is electric, crackling between you two. He’s always been the type of guy who likes control, who’s used to having everything in the palm of his hand. But with you standing there, looking so fucking perfect, all his self-control is slowly slipping through his fingers.

You could almost laugh at the sight of his discomfort, but you know what you’re doing. You’ve been planning this moment, knowing full well that the shock factor would break his usual barriers.

His eyes are burning now—red hot—as he takes a step toward you, voice turning low, needy. “You think this is some joke? You think you can wear this and make me just lose my mind?”

You know he’s always had a thing for you. He’s never been subtle about it, but you also know the kind of guy Bakugou is—he’s the type to make everything intense and passionate, even when it’s about something like this. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, the way he’s trying to keep his composure, but it’s becoming more and more obvious that he can’t.

“Maybe I want you to lose control, Katsuki,” you tease, taking a bold step forward. You know how to handle him now, how to get under his skin. He might be the explosive one in most situations, but when it comes to you, it’s a whole different story.

Bakugou smirks slightly before frowning again slightly— no, not frowning, but scowling. He wasn’t mad. Just a little disappointed. Because he didn’t get to fucking see this masterpiece on you before. Damn it, he’s gonna buy you twenty different pairs of them.

He pulls away for a moment, his breath ragged as he looks down at you, eyes filled with frustration. “You really think you’re gonna make it easy on me, huh? You don’t know what the hell you’re doing, do you?”

You chuckle softly, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw. “You act like I don’t know exactly what I’m doing.”

He stares at you for a long, tense moment, his chest rising and falling with every labored breath. “Yeah?” His voice is dark now, horny. “Then you know that the second you put that on… there’s no going back.”

And with that, he moves—fast. In one fluid motion, he spins you around, pushing you up against the nearest wall. His hands slide down your body, the roughness of his touch contrasting with the softness of the fabric you’re wearing. His lips find your neck, and he begins to trail hot, breathy kisses down the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing against you just enough to leave a mark.

“You’ve had your fun, but now it’s my turn,” he says against your skin.

His hands are everywhere, groping every part. He would be lying if he said this wasn’t all he ever dreamed off.

He unties your bra urgently and his hands quickly move to busy themselves.

His lips leave your neck to devour your mouth once again, this time with more frenzy, more desperation. You can feel the heat building between you, the way his body presses into yours, his hard muscles aligning with your softer curves. He pushes you harder into the wall, and you moan softly at the intensity of it all. His hands are already at your waist, undoing the clasp of your lingerie with a speed that leaves you breathless.

“Fucking hell, Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me.” His voice is low, guttural, and it sends a shock of electricity straight down your spine.

Before you can respond, your panties are off and then you went to heaven.

Kirishima Eijiro – “When You Show Him a Side of You He’s Never Seen Before.”

Kirishima was always the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. His enthusiasm and exuberant energy were infectious, and it was hard not to love the guy. He prided himself on being a “manly man,” always ready to protect, to stand strong, and to be the rock in any situation. But tonight, things felt different.

When you had suggested a quiet night at home after a long week of training, Kirishima was all for it. He loved spending time with you, even if it meant winding down in the calm of the evening. But the moment he walked through the door and caught sight of you, dressed in the delicate lace lingerie you’d been hiding, everything changed.

At first, he stood in the doorway, frozen, blinking rapidly as if trying to figure out if what he was seeing was real. His gaze scanned your figure, the way the fabric hugged your curves and made your skin glow. His breath caught in his throat.

“Y/N… wh-what the heck?!” His voice was hoarse, almost sounding like he’d forgotten how to speak. His body seemed to lock in place, his muscles tightening in shock, as he stared at you with wide, almost disbelieving eyes.

You stood in front of him, feeling a rush of confidence despite his stunned reaction. “Do you like it?” you asked innocently, but the playful glint in your eyes made it clear you were trying to make him flustered.

Kirishima’s eyes flickered down to the floor for a moment, his usually carefree demeanor replaced with something much more… serious. The red flush on his cheeks was a dead giveaway—he wasn’t used to being caught off guard like this.

“Like it?” He let out a breathless laugh, scratching the back of his head in a nervous gesture. “I… I don’t even know what to say. You look… stunning.” His voice trembled slightly at the last word.

You took a step closer to him, and he took an involuntary step back, as if unsure whether he should touch you or not. Kirishima was the type to be respectful and honorable. He would never rush you, always being considerate of your comfort. But at this moment, he was clearly struggling to hold onto that composure. His body language was a dead giveaway—his broad shoulders were tense, and his hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“C’mon, Eijiro,” you teased, stepping even closer. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

That was the final straw. His hands shot out to grab your waist, pulling you toward him with surprising gentleness but also an underlying urgency. His lips immediately found yours, hot and hungry, as though he had been starved for you. The kiss wasn’t desperate, but it was intense, as if every moment of hesitation he’d had before this had been erased in the span of seconds.

When he pulled away, he let out a soft chuckle, still holding you close. “You really know how to get me all flustered, huh?” He pressed his forehead against yours, laughing lightly. “But, damn it, I’m not just gonna stand here like an idiot. You sure you’re ready for this?”

You felt your heart race at his words, knowing that Kirishima had always been the type of guy to want to make sure both of you were comfortable and ready before anything went further. But at the same time, his body language said everything—it was clear that he wanted you. Badly.

“I think I’m ready,” you whispered, “but are you?”

Oh he was more than ready.

His face flushed a deeper red, and his fingers curled into the fabric of your lingerie, gently pushing it aside. “Hell yeah.”

His lips found your neck next, and soft, gentle kisses quickly became something much more heated as his hands explored your body, tracing the lines of your curves with tender touches. Kirishima’s touch was never rough—it was always considerate and full of affection, but tonight, he was breaking through that barrier. His hands moved from your waist to your thighs, pulling you against him more firmly.

You let out a soft moan when his lips traveled lower, the fire of his kisses leaving trails of warmth on your skin. “Kirishima…” you breathed, your fingers threading through his spiky hair as you pulled him closer. The way his body pressed into yours, the heat radiating from him, made you feel like you were melting against him.

His kisses were passionate now, not just out of desire but out of the raw emotion he felt for you. His hands were everywhere—tender, but with the kind of determination that told you he wasn’t going to hold back anymore. As he moved, you could feel him slowly losing himself in the moment, his kisses becoming more intense and possessive, as though he needed to prove to both of you that you belonged together like this.

“I’ve got you, Y/N,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. “I won’t let you go. Not now.”

And with that, the man who had always been the rock in your life, the one who could hold it all together, was now the one giving himself over to you completely. The moment felt like timeless bliss, the world outside fading as Kirishima’s love and affection wrapped around you in the most tender of ways.

Denki Kaminari – “When His Jokes Take a Different Turn.”

Denki Kaminari was known for being the goofball. His carefree attitude and quick-witted humor had earned him the title of the goofy one in the group. But underneath that playful, energetic exterior, there was something deeper that he only let a few people see. With you, Denki felt like he could let go of his usual antics and embrace the more vulnerable side of himself—the side that wanted to take care of you, protect you, and make you feel loved.

Tonight, however, things were different. He had been teasing you all day, cracking jokes and making everyone laugh, but now, standing in front of you with your body adorned in nothing but lingerie, Denki was struggling to find his usual charm.

As soon as he stepped through the door, you stood there, your figure illuminated by the soft light from the lamp, the delicate lace hugging your curves in the most alluring way. You could see the shock in his eyes, the way his body stiffened before he even spoke. His lips parted in an almost comical fashion as he tried to form words.

“Y/N… Wh-what the heck are you wearing?” His voice cracked slightly, his usual confidence replaced with a mix of awe and confusion. The sight of you in that lingerie was so unexpected, it nearly knocked the wind out of him.

You stood there, an innocent smile tugging at your lips, clearly amused by his reaction. “You like it?” you asked, letting your voice carry a playful edge.

Denki’s face turned a deep shade of red as he tried to process the situation. His eyes flickered down to the floor for a moment, clearly struggling to hold onto his usual flirtatious banter. “Like it?” he repeated, his voice cracking again. “I don’t even… I can’t even think straight right now. You—damn, Y/N—you look… amazing.”

His breath hitched as he nervously ran a hand through his messy hair. The typical goofball in him was completely overtaken by the intensity of the moment. He looked like he was caught between being his usual teasing self and desperately wanting to take control of the situation. His usual banter and teasing tone were completely gone now, replaced with the kind of raw admiration that made your heart race.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his flustered state, stepping forward to close the gap between the two of you. “Well, Kaminari,” you purred, “I was hoping I could surprise you. I thought you’d like the view.”

Denki’s eyes widened, his entire body seemingly frozen. He stared at you for a long moment, his pupils dilated, as if trying to drink you in. Slowly, almost as if he were still unsure whether this was real or some kind of fever dream, he took a step toward you, then another, until he was standing right in front of you.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” His voice was rough now, his usual playful tone laced with a deep, breathy desire. “I swear, Y/N, I didn’t expect this. I mean, yeah, you’re gorgeous, but this… this is next level.” He hesitated for a split second, clearly battling his nerves. Then, with a deep, drawn-out sigh, he reached out to gently touch your waist, as if he were afraid that if he touched you too quickly, you might disappear.

You laughed softly, the sound soft and intimate as you leaned into him. “You’ve got to relax, Denki,” you said, your voice a little more serious now, with a hint of teasing. “You’re making me feel like I’m the one who’s not ready for this.”

His hands froze for a moment, then tightened around you, pulling you toward him gently. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “No, no, I’m more than ready for this.” His words were low and hushed, sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s just that… you’re seriously blowing my mind right now, Y/N.”

He gave a short laugh, but the sound was edged with nervousness, as though he was trying to regain some control over the situation. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other before leaning in to kiss you, his lips brushing yours tentatively at first, almost like he was testing the waters.

As the kiss deepened, Denki’s hands moved slowly, gently exploring your body, running over your curves as if memorizing every inch of you. The moment his fingers brushed the soft lace of your lingerie, he groaned softly, breaking the kiss for a moment to look down at you with wide eyes.

“God, Y/N, you’re so perfect,” he muttered, voice thick with desire. His hands moved down your body, his fingertips grazing over your skin, sending electric shivers through your body. His touch was light, almost reverent, like he was unsure whether to go further or hold back.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back into the kiss. Denki responded eagerly, the playful teasing now gone as his lips moved with passion. His hands roamed over your body more urgently now, and you could feel the heat building between you both.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” Denki breathed against your lips, his voice still a little shaky, but filled with desire. “I always thought I’d be the one making you flustered, but right now, you’ve got me totally messed up.”

The more he spoke, the more confident his movements became. He moved down to your neck, kissing and nibbling the soft skin, his hands slipping underneath the fabric of your lingerie. Every touch felt like electricity, as though his own energy was transferring into your skin with every caress.

He found that sensitive spot on your neck, the one he knew would make you gasp, and nipped at it gently. The reaction was immediate. You let out a soft moan, and Denki grinned against your skin, his hands sliding down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

“Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable,” he whispered, voice low and heavy with desire. His hands tightened around you, and his lips found yours again in a deep, passionate kiss as he carried you to the bedroom. The moment he laid you down on the bed, he paused, staring down at you with a mixture of awe and hunger.

“Damn, Y/N, I swear, every time I think I know you, you surprise me. But this… this is something else.”

Sero Hanta – “When His Playful Side Turns Into Something More.”

Sero Hanta had always been the easy-going, funny guy in the group. His lighthearted humor and goofy grin made him the kind of person people could rely on for a good laugh or to break the ice. But behind his playful demeanor, there was a side of him that you knew well: the side that cared deeply, the side that was protective and serious when needed, and the side that, tonight, was on full display.

You had been spending more time together lately, and his natural flirtations and jokes had always made you smile. However, tonight, things were a little different. It wasn’t the usual “goofy” Sero, cracking jokes or pulling pranks. No, tonight, you were going to make him melt.

You’d prepared for this moment—just a little surprise for him. When he’d invited you over, you decided to take things up a notch. He was always so confident, but you had a feeling he’d never expect this. You had picked out a new piece of lingerie that you felt incredibly confident in, but more importantly, you knew it would make Sero’s head spin. As you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate lace and fabric, your heart raced. You knew it wasn’t just the surprise; it was the trust and intimacy you shared with him that made this moment feel electric.

The moment Sero stepped through the door, you could see it in his eyes: the instant recognition of something being out of the ordinary. His gaze flickered to you, widening as his lips parted in an almost comical fashion. For a split second, he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, looking you up and down like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

His voice was a little breathless when he finally spoke. “Y/N, you—are you trying to kill me?” His hands instinctively went to his hair, messing it up as he stared at you in shock. You could see his chest rise and fall slightly quicker than usual as he took in the sight of you, clearly overwhelmed.

You let a slow smile form on your lips, a playful glint in your eyes as you approached him. “Do you like it, Sero?” you teased, tilting your head slightly as you reached out to gently trace his jawline with your fingertips.

Sero let out a deep exhale, almost like he was trying to steady himself. “Like it? Y/N, I—” His voice cracked for a moment before he cleared his throat. “I don’t even know where to begin with this. You look… unreal.”

He stepped closer to you now, his eyes full of awe and desire. There was no mistaking it—the flirtatious Sero was gone, replaced by a side of him that wanted to be serious and close. The moment his hands brushed over your hips, you could feel his fingers tremble slightly, as though he was trying to gain control of his emotions and desires. His touch was soft, tender even, as though he were handling something precious.

“You’ve got me at a loss for words, Y/N,” Sero murmured, his voice low and hoarse. He placed a hand gently on your waist, as if grounding himself. His thumb traced circles over your skin as his gaze traveled from your face to the lingerie hugging your body so perfectly. “This isn’t what I expected when I walked in here.”

You took a step closer, the proximity between you growing as you could feel the heat building in the room. “What did you expect?” you asked with a teasing smile, moving your body closer to his.

Sero’s eyes darkened, and he laughed—a quiet, almost nervous laugh. “Honestly? I don’t even know anymore. But, damn, this is more than I could have ever imagined.”

The sound of his voice, thick with desire, made you shiver slightly. You could feel his hands on your hips tighten, and for a moment, everything else in the room faded away. It was just the two of you, drawn together by the undeniable chemistry.

“You look so good, Y/N. I didn’t know it was possible for you to look even more beautiful, but you just… wow.” His fingers trailed up your back slowly, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat of his body press against yours as he kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment as if he were savoring the moment.

“You’re making me lose it here,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You pulled back just a little to look at him, catching his gaze. There was a mix of desire, affection, and something deeper in his eyes—something you had been hoping to see for a long time.

“Is that such a bad thing?” you asked, your voice soft, but full of intent.

Sero swallowed hard. “No. It’s not bad at all. It’s just… it’s overwhelming.”

His lips met yours in a kiss that was slow at first, gentle even, as though he wanted to make sure you were comfortable. But as your hands moved up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate. Sero’s hands roamed over your body, his touch hungry and desperate as he explored the soft curves of your figure, his fingertips tracing every inch of you.

“God, Y/N, you’re going to make me lose my mind,” he muttered between kisses. His voice was rough now, the teasing tone completely gone. In its place was a raw, hungry desire that made your pulse quicken.

His lips traveled from your mouth to your neck, kissing and nibbling along the sensitive skin there. You let out a soft moan, and the sound drove him wild. His hands were everywhere now, hips, your thighs and pulling you against him as his lips continued their path down your body, leaving a trail of hot kisses that made your skin tingle.

“You’re so perfect,” Sero breathed, his words filled with awe as his hands moved beneath the lace of your lingerie, brushing against your skin. His fingers moved slowly, savoring every touch, every inch of you. “I’m so lucky to be here with you, Y/N.”

You responded by wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him back into another heated kiss, your body pressing fully against his. The way he kissed you was all-consuming—gentle at times, but with a growing intensity that left you breathless. His hands found their way to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and placing you down gently on the bed.

He hovered over you, his body just inches from yours, his breath heavy as he looked at you with an expression that was both tender and possessive. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you reached up to pull him closer, your hands sliding down his chest. He groaned softly as you ran your hands over the fabric of his shirt, pulling it off with ease. There was no hesitation now—only the overwhelming need to be close, to feel each other fully

The moment your skin made contact, Sero let out a low growl of satisfaction. “Y/N, you have no idea how bad I’ve wanted this.”

His hands moved to your lingerie again, this time pulling it off carefully, savoring the way your body reacted to every touch. His lips followed his hands, kissing every inch of skin that was revealed to him, leaving a trail of love bites and gentle kisses along your collarbone and shoulders.

“I’m not letting you go,” he whispered against your skin, and in that moment, you knew—he wasn’t going anywhere.

Part 2?

[cinnamoonblue]

The 'Nice Lady'

ONE SHOT (REQUEST) - Portgas D Ace/Reader (female)

REQUEST: I am not sure if you take requests but if you do, can you do a small fluff of ace introducing y/n as his wife in alabasta to the strawhats!

WARNINGS: english is not my first language, explicit language, use of pet names, Ace is a little touchy but you don't mind, stealing, fighting marines

WORD COUNT: 3,7K

✰ MASTERLIST ✰

NOTE: This request was so fun to write so I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did ♡ I know that it took me a month to post it and that is why the end is kind of rushed, for which I'm sorry, but I hope you guys understand that things take time and that writing is just a hobby for me ♡ Thank you for all the support ♡ Feel free to like, comment and reblog as it helps reaching more people ♡ Enjoy♡

Arabasta – the hottest island and country you have ever been on. Sand and endless kilometers of desert between each city are everywhere. Right now, you are in Alubarna, an ancient city and the capital of Arabasta. The city architecture is manly domed buildings and towers, with ruins from the past all over the outside parts of it, making it very exotic and attractive for people from other islands to visit and explore, though now it is mostly local people around as the country has suffered a big lack of water so the drought that has taken over the country is life treating, except for the capital.

Looking for an escape from the burning hot sun in the busy market streets in Alubarna, you have found yourself in a small clothes shop, trying on different and typical for the country dresses or two-piece sets. Taking look at the mirror and twisting your body left and right you will lie to yourself if you say that you haven’t fallen in love with the current two piece set you are wearing. It is a beautify long white skirt with golden belt on top of the waistline with small Caribbean blue stones attach to it. Your chest is covered by a white top – white see-through long sleaves and a bra part, covered in white and golden sequins with a beautiful crafted Caribbean blue stone in the middle of it, you have never felt prettier in a pair of clothes as you feel now. Looking at the mirror you feel like a princess of the desert.

“You are definitely coming home with me.” You murmur with a smile to yourself as you check yourself out one last time. “How much are you by the way?” Tapping with your hands trying to find the price tag your eyes widen once you have found it. “A thousand and five hundred berries! Are they crazy?” Shaking your head in disbelief you take the price tag in your hands and tear it away from the skirt. “Not like I was planning to pay for it anyway.” You whisper with a smile as you gather your own clothes in the small green zebra print bag you have carried with yourself. Stepping out of the changing room you look around carefully before going to the cash register.   

“Oh, I see you have liked the set, m’lady.” The middle-aged man, the owner of the shop you guess, says as he sees you approaching him.

“Yes, I did – in fact I plan to buy more, but you see...” Your gesture to him to get closer to you like you don’t want the rest of the customers to hear what you are about to say. “I’m very pretensions and I was wondering - do you by any chance have something that it hasn’t been displayed yet?” You flutter your lashes at him. “The price doesn’t matter.” You give a little wink as you see him falling for your little act.

The middle aged, slightly round and bald man’s eyes spark with happiness as he hears this – you are his favourite type of client. He tells you to give him a second and that he will be back in just a second and the moment he leaves the cash register you don’t waste any time and run out of the shop. After a moment you hear a scream, a yell, something among the lines “Catch the bugler!”, but it is too late now as you have already escaped and blend yourself with the crowd in the market.

Walking along the streets you start to look around for your husband. He has to be somewhere near by, you just hope he hasn’t wandered somewhere far away, as sometimes he has the habit to does so.

“Buy this apple and you will be able to live up to thousand years.” You hear a merchant offer his scammed goods to someone.

"Sorry, I'm not interested in living thousand years. I just need to live today." You hear the person responds, and a sly smirk appears on your lips. Fixing your posture and lifting your chin up a bit, you start walking around the market a bit more confident. It doesn’t take long before you hear a voice behind you. “Who in their right mind has let you wander around all by yourself?”

Biting on your inner cheek, trying to stop yourself from smiling, you answer. “My husband.”  

“Ah, what a fool is your husband. Letting a gem like you all alone.” The person walking behind dramatically says. “What if someone steals you?”

“I doubt someone would dare.” You shrug with one shoulder as you make a turn, walking into a small dead-end alley, away from preying eyes.

“Hm, how so?” The man behind you smirks as he has followed you and now stands even close to you.

“Because my husband always finds me.” You smile as you turn around to face the man standing behind you and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a burning, full of passion kiss.

“You look beautiful baby.” Ace says as he pulls away from you and checks you all without any remorse. “Damn, I really need to stop letting wander by yourself, because someone might steal you from me for real.” He pulls you close to him as he runs his hands around your bare waist, feeling your soft skin under his fingers.

“I can say the same for you Portgas.” You giggle as you place your fingers on his broad muscular chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingers. He is always so warm, even without the burning sun, Ace is like a walking one, but you don’t mind it, you never had and never will. After all you have gotten a personal heating blanket in the face of your husband for the rest of your life, how can you complain? “Are you hungry my love?”

“Always.” He slowly nods and licks his lower lip, not being able to tear his eyes from the curves of your body in this two-piece set. He usually can’t take his eyes of you no matter what you are wearing, or not wearing, but this piece of clothing is doing something to him.

“I meant food Ace.” You softly sigh as you place two fingers under his chin and lift it up so he can look at your eyes. “Eyes here boy. So, are you hungry?”

“Always.” He says as he pulls you close to him once again and kisses the top of your head before you get on your way to dish and dash somewhere.

You are both sitting at the bar in the first restaurant you have found. While Ace is already on his third plate you are still on your first, taking your time savouring the taste of the tipical local dish you have ordered for yourself, enjoying the new flavours that you are trying for a first time ever, while your husband just appreciates the fact that the food is good.

“Have you got any leads so far?” You ask your raven-haired husband.

“No.” He answers with frowned brows. “But I’m sure I have something on Lu-” Hearing a loud splash noise from the plate of your husband, you jump on the side as you don’t need to look to see that it is in fact him having a narcolepsy attack midway lunch.

“Thanks God, he didn’t eat something with sauce on it.” You breathe out relieved, after checking your outfit to see it has gotten a spot or something from the food. People in the restaurant gather around your worried, but you told them not to worry as you got this. Pulling Ace up, you clean his face with a napkin as this has become like a second nature to you now, as he slowly starts to wake up.

“Sorry, baby. Please don’t tell me I ruined your clothes.” He gives you an apologetic look as he checks you out to make sure he hasn’t splashed any food on you. You shake your head with a smile and before you get the chance to respond to him - he is gone. Your husband is literally gone, as he has been swept away with a force straight through some walls and now instead of him, a guy identically looking like your husband, stands next to you.

“Ha, now this is interesting turn of events.” You chuckle as you observe the boy with the straw hat standing next to you. “Running away from trouble Luffy?” You ask like you have known him for years, even though this is the first time ever you see your husband’s little brother, whom you only know from stories and his bounty poster.

“Yes, this annoying Smoker doesn’t leave me alone.” He answers to you without even questioning how you even know him or what is he running from. “Hey, are you eating all this by yourself?” He looks back and forth between you and the three extra plates left with food from your husband.

“Eat them if you are hungry.” You smile and hand one of the plates to the young reckless pirate and his eyes widen from happiness as he takes the plate and devours it in seconds. “You can take the rest as well.” You say standing up as you make your way to where your husband has been sent flying to make sure that he is okay, you know he is, but you are sure he would like to know that it was his little brother who caused all that.

“Thank you, nice lady.” Luffy screams after you with full mouth.

You just giggle as you make your way through the broken walls. “Damn, this was quite the impact.” Murmuring under your breath you finally reach your husband, who is getting up from the ground and doesn’t look very happy with what have happened. “Are you okay, Ace?” Your sweet voice catches up his attention and he just nod. Opening his mouth to say something he is getting interrupt by a yell from Smoker, who you haven’t even noticed until now, but he is long gone before any of you can react as he goes to chase after Luffy once again.

“Straw-hat?” Ace looks at you with excitement.

“Yes, I forgot to mention that the person behind this mess in no other than your little brother, so I think you might want to jump in the chase.” With a little twist of your body to the side you gesture to your husband to go run after his brother.

“You know where to meet me princess.” Ace says as he gives you a quick peck on the lips and runs after his brother.

“Huh? That’s weird. Why am I the only one here?” Luffy wonders as he finds himself in a dead alley sitting on a water barrel, with neither his crew nor brother around. Speaking of his brother, he still can’t believe he has reunited with him after not seeing each other for who knows how long. “Where did everyone go?”

“Sheesh! I guess my letting you escape was pretty pointless.” Luffy hears the too familiar voice sarcastically says somewhere close to him. Looking around and then finally up, Luffy sees his older brother standing there with a big smile.

“Yo, Ace!” Luffy jumps on his feet as his brother lands on the ground.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Luffy.” Observing now his grown little brother, Ace can’t feel anything else but be proud of him and of the man his is becoming.

“You too, Ace.” Both grip on each others’ hands is a strong lock over the barrel. “How long has it been?”

“Good question, but Luffy, it looks like you still go on your own pace, just like you did when you were kid.” Ace smirks mischievously as he can feel his brother putting force in trying to get Ace’s hand down and claim himself a winner.

“You too, Ace. I was surprised you ate a Devil Fruit, but besides that you’re the same.” Luffy says with a big grin.

“Oh, ye?” Ace laughs out loud as he hasn’t expected to hear this. He has definitely changed a lot since they last saw each other.

“Like when you would sneak into the fields and eat a hundred watermelons and then spit the seeds like your mouth is a gun and run?” Luffy blurs out fast as Ace has taken upper hand in their hand fight.

“This wasn’t me. It was you.”

“And then you got big bumps right here.”

“That was you again. I just watched and laughed.” Ace says as he is close to take the hand of his little brother down, but the barrel with water under them breaks due to their strength and their hands stay in the air locked in a firm handshake.

“I guess we’re both the same.” Luffy’s big smile spread across his face as him and Ace unlock hands and go for a high-five. “This brings back memories.”

Walking around town the two brothers are having small talks and catching up to each other, yet Ace still hasn’t mentioned the fact that he has married the girl of his dreams recently as he wants to do this when you are standing next to him. You have turned his life upside down in the best way possible and having you in it makes it finally worth living.

“Say, what kind of crew you have?” Ace is curious to know with what people his little brother has surrounded himself and Luffy wastes no time telling him about his crew – a swordsman, a navigator, a cook, a lair and the latest addition a reindeer. “That’s quite the variety you’ve got there.”

“We also have a princess and a duck now.” Luffy excitedly exclaims. “They’re all so interesting.”

“I’m sure you are the most interesting of them all.” Ace chuckles. “Still, a handful of people for a pirate crew... That’s just like you.” He smirks looking at Luffy.

“And I want a musician, too.”

You are waiting patiently by the Striker. It has been some time now, but you are sure that Ace is just catching up with his little brother. As you are sitting and waiting, finally, you see you husbands silhouette approaching you. You get up on your feet and smile at him once he stands in front of you.

“How was it?” You ask while wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You have to meet him officially.” Ace tells you with a big smile. “He is already on his ship so we can make a quick visit. After all I need to check his crew personally, what if they are not good enough for him?”

“Ay, ay commander.” You laugh out.

You and Ace gather your things quickly in the Striker and get to the open sea fast. As you are approaching the Going Merry you notice that there are quite lot of marines.

“I will take care of them.” Ace winks at you and you playfully roll your eyes. He just wants to show off to his little brother and crew, but you won’t deny that you enjoy the show yourself. It doesn’t take long for your husband to take down the three marines ships after all he is Fire Fist Ace, what else is there to be said?

Landing on the railing of the Going Merry, Ace is met with an awe by the entire crew. While they are having their little interaction you have reached the ship with the Striker and quietly made your way up to your husband who sensed you the moment you stopped your little boat.

“Hey, Luffy.” Ace awkwardly says with a big grin spread across his lips. “There is someone I would like you to meet.” He scratches the back of his neck as he is not sure exactly how to announce to his brother that he is a married man now. “You see I-”

“Hey, what are you doing here, nice lady?” Luffy asks confused as he is the first one to notice you standing next to Ace on the railing, and now him, his crew and your husband all look at you confused. A sea of questions start being thrown at you from how you managed to get on the ship to who you are, until one particular question takes everyone out by surprise.

“Nice lady? Why does he call you this?” Ace looks at you in confusion.

“Oh, we met in the restaurant where he sent you flying.” You explain with a smile and Ace’s eyes shit to Luffy who nods his head in confirmation.

“She let me eat for free.” Luffy adds and now it all makes sense to Ace why he calls you the ‘nice lady’. “How you two know each other?”

Looking at you, with all the love and admiration in the world, Ace can’t stop the smile which spreads across his face as he says, “This is my wife.” You return the smile as you two step down of the railing into the deck and interlace your fingers. “Luffy and crew, this is my wife (Y/N).” Ace introduces you to everyone and they are all in awe, now that the confusion and shock has passed away.

“He is a good big brother.” Chopper, the cute reindeer doctor says, and Usopp the guy with unusual long nose nods in agreement.

“Wish I had one growing up.” Usopp adds to Chopper’s comment.

“And he is a good husband.” Nami the navigator of the ship as she has introduced herself to you exclames as she cluches her chest admiring you and Ace.

“A loving one on top of it.” Vivi, the princess of Arabasta, adds as she wraps her arms around Nami.

“I hope I get blessed with such a beautiful, gorgeous wife myself one day.” Sanji, the cook of the ship cries out, and for a moment you even think that if his eyes can turn into a heart shape they will. 

“Simp.” Zoro, the swordsman, makes fun of him, but the blush on his face is not helping as he shyly takes glance at you.

“Wife? Why?” Luffy’s eyes shifts between you and Ace in slight confusion. The whole concept of marriage has been something he has never understood so this is a bit confusing for him.

“What do you mean by why, you idiot?” Sanji screamed at him. “Having a wife as beautiful as (Y/N)-swan must be the closest feeling to heaven.” He cries out again.

You and your husband just laugh at the scene in front of you. His brother is exactly as he has described him, but he is obviously a good kid with good friends along his journey.

“When did you two married?” Vivi looks at you excitedly and Nami follows her with a question.

“How did you two meet?”

“How do you find a woman like her?” The lovesick cook cries out... again.

Before you or Ace can answer any question Luffy interrupts. “Why don’t you stay with us for a bit?” To which you agree.

Two days have past since you have joined the crew and both, you and Ace, are having fun with his brother and friends. The similarities between Ace and Luffy sometimes scare you a bit, due to the fact that you are aware they are not biological brothers by any means, yet they act and look like ones so much.

The night has taken over the desert and you are having fun with the girls, missing the feeling of having female company around you, as the crew you are part of is mostly made of men, which you don’t mind, because not only you have met the love of your life among these men, but also your family.

Everyone has started preparing to go to sleep, while the little adorable reindeer Chopper is having a little banter with Usopp, but Zoro is quick to put an end to it. Meanwhile Ace is observing everyone and everything carefully, enjoying the night, but also lost in his own thoughts.

“Yo, Luffy. Come here.” Ace calls out for his brother and signals to him with a nod to follow him. Stepping aside from everyone and making sure that no one would hear him, Ace looks at Luffy seriously. “I want you to promise me something.”

“What?” Luffy raises one brow a little annoyed with his brother interrupting his fun before bed.  

“If something ever happens to me, I-” Ace can’t finish his sentence as he is quickly being interrupt.

“What do you mean if something happens to you? You have promised me that you won’t die.” His brother is quick to remind him the promise Ace has given a long time ago.

“And I won’t.” Ace replies slight harshly as his brother doesn’t even let him finish his sentence. “Now let me finish what I have to say.” He scolds Luffy. “I’m saying – If something happens to me, I want you to promise me to take care of her.” Ace can’t help but look at your direction. “I know she is strong and can handle herself no matter what, but please, promise me that you will look after her if something ever happens.” He returns his attention to his brother.

“I promise Ace. But you also have a promise to keep.”

“And I will.” Ace winks to his little brother as he pats his back, and they return to the rest of the group.

Seeing them coming back you give Ace a smile – a smile for which he is willing to die for but also keep on living for every day, as his days have become better since the day he saw it for a first time ever. Back there he has promised to himself on the spot that he will call you his wife no matter what, and he did keep his promise.

writing, format, header & dividers © cinnamoonblue ©cinnamoonblue, do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[mmochammoss]

Bunny Lines

Izuku didn’t find himself unattractive.

He just thought he was a little plain-looking. In all his life, no girl had ever had a crush on him, or at least never admitted to having one. He had never been called handsome or attractive by anyone his age. Sure, he got the occasional ‘cute’ or ‘nice,’ but just once, he wanted to be more than just cute.

But he had given up on that a while ago.

You, however, didn’t seem to have this problem. And it wasn’t just because you thought you were attractive. You were very content with your looks. Confident even. And you had every right to be.

You were drop-dead gorgeous. Perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect smile, all wrapped up in one picture-perfect package. Izuku thought you were gorgeous, too. Of course he did. But he knew that wasn’t exactly an original opinion. He was sure 99.9% of the school thought you were gorgeous.

But it didn’t really matter what he thought of you. Not if you didn’t think of him that way. A plain-looking person like him was only put on this earth to compliment people like you. not the other way around.

Or at least, so he thought.

“What the hell are ‘bunny lines’?” Mina asked you as you both lounged on the common room couches, scrolling on your phones.

“They’re those lines on the sides of your nose you get when you smile,” you explained, not looking up. “Smile,” you added, pointing at her.

She gave you a half-hearted one.

You lowered your phone and grinned at her. “Nope. You don’t have ‘em.”

Mina shrugged and picked her phone back up, and you giggled at her ridiculousness. Then you tilted your head slightly, like you were thinking.

“I wonder if anyone in the class has them?” she mused aloud.

You paused, going through your mental catalog of all your classmates’ smiles. And then, after a beat, you smiled to yourself and picked up your phone.

You sent a quick message, typing with intent:

Come to the common room. Emergency. ASAP.

A few minutes later, you heard quick, familiar footsteps.

“(Y/N)? Is everything okay? What’s wrong?” Izuku asked, voice full of concern as he rushed into the room.

“I need you for something really quick!” you said, beckoning him over with both hands.

He came closer, confused, standing beside the couch. “What is it?”

“Smile.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“I need to see your smile. It’s an emergency!”

Mina was already giggling behind her phone. Izuku gave you another puzzled look, but eventually chuckled at your antics. Then, obligingly, he gave you a small, uncertain smile.

“No, no, no. A real smile. Smile like you mean it.”

He laughed, just a little, and this time, his smile was genuine.

You sat up from your lounging position, reached forward, and gently tilted his chin between your fingers, angling his face into the light like you were inspecting something delicate.

“See? Bunny lines!” you declared.

His face went a bit pink at the sudden contact. “Bunny… lines?”

“Yeah!” you said brightly. “You know, the little lines on the bridge of your nose when you smile really big? You’re the only person I’ve seen with them! Mina wanted to know what they looked like, so I called you.”

He blinked. “I have bunny lines?” Thinking you’ve found a new thing for him to be insecure about.

“You do. They’re kind of like dimples.”

You shifted his chin slightly, turning his head left, then right, like you were examining fine art.

“So handsome,” you said with a contented little smile before releasing his face and sinking back into the couch cushions.

His blush deepened. “You think… they’re handsome?”

“No,” you giggled.

He paused, heart sinking slightly.

“I think you’re handsome,” you said, still smiling. “The lines are a nice touch, though.”

Izuku stood frozen for a beat.

“You… you think I’m handsome?” he repeated, needing to hear it again to believe it.

“Of course I do! Don’t you?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes wide. “Well… I mean, sometimes, sure. Like, if I’m dressed up for something, maybe. But not all the time.”

You frowned slightly, your expression softening.

“Of course, you’re handsome all the time, Midoriya. Just look at you! That soft curly hair, your pretty eyes, your freckles, your nose, your lips, how strong you are, how sweet you are, you’re the whole package! Of course, I think you’re handsome.”

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what to think.

You liked all those things about him?

His hair?

His eyes?

Even his freckles?

No one had ever said things like that to him before. Not like that. Not someone like you.

You were the most beautiful person he knew.

And the most beautiful person he knew… thought he was handsome?

Handsome.

Izuku didn’t remember how he got back to his room.

He knew his legs had moved. He knew he’d said goodbye, maybe stammered something like “Thanks” or “See you later.” He knew you’d smiled at him again before he left.

But after that? It was all a blur.

Now he was standing in the middle of his dorm, still fully dressed, his phone in one hand, heart thudding like he’d just finished a five-mile sprint.

You called him handsome.

You. Called him. Handsome.

Out loud. With your mouth. To his face.

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, dropping his phone onto his bed and pressing his hands to his cheeks, which were already burning. “Okay. Okay. Cool. Normal. This is… this is fine.”

He sat down.

Then immediately got back up.

Then sat down again, slower, this time with a groan, dragging a pillow into his lap and slumping forward like his bones had turned to noodles.

You’d touched his face. Said he had bunny lines. Said they were cute.

Said he was handsome.

And not in a “oh, you clean up nice” kind of way. Not a pity compliment. You had listed things.

His hair. His eyes. His freckles. His nose.

His lips?!

He buried his face in the pillow.

This was bad. This was really bad.

Because it wasn’t just a compliment.

It was you.

You, with your warm laugh and soft voice. You, who remembered what people needed before they had to ask. You, who wore the cutest clothes and brought backup snacks to training days and smiled like it was your job. You were sunshine with legs and the kindest soul he’d ever met.

And you noticed him. Noticed things about him.

You liked things about him.

Just the thought of that made his knees weak.

You thought about him. You had to if you knew you liked all of those different things about him.

And the thought of you. Thinking about him.

It made him dizzy.

And all at once, it hit him like a punch to the gut.

Did he have a crush? On you?

He shut his eyes tight, as if he were trying to turn his brain off.

It wasn’t a crush.

He just really admired you. The way you spoke. The way you carried yourself. The way you looked. The way you dressed. The way you smelled. The way your hair smelled.

The way you would tap your pencil to your lips when you were thinking. The way you would hum whenever you cooked or baked. The way your uniform fit you way better than it fit anyone else.

His eyes shot open again as he blushed hard.

What was he doing?

This was a crush. And a bad one. This wasn’t some passing phase or a little daydream he could shake off after dinner.

He liked you.

And suddenly, all the small things made sense. The way his eyes always found you in a crowded room, the way he listened a little harder when you spoke, the way his chest did that weird flipping thing every time you touched his shoulder or called him by his first name.

He flopped backward on the bed with a dramatic groan, staring at the ceiling like it might offer advice.

He was so screwed.

But at least he was handsome.

[thedilfdiaries]

Vicious

Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist ★ Wordcount: 1.8k

📽 —★ Summary: In the quiet solitude of your own home, you revel in the rare freedom of an empty house, indulging in forbidden pleasures on a hot summer day. The unexpected arrival of your dads buddy Joel turns your casual rebellion into something far more thrilling.

📽 —★ Warnings: 18+, mdni, reader is in college but is called a "school girl", wears a uniform that has a skirt. Joel and reader are both kinda assholes to each other. Mentions of smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, age gap (reader is early 20's, Joel is whatever you would like but in my mind 40's or older) p in v, uses of slut and whore, in this world and my daydreams Joel is able to get off multiple times without a break (I am not going for supreme accuracy I am going for porn), if I missed anything please let me know

📽 —★ Notes: Hello, welcome to my comeback fic. Please note that I am very rusty since posting my last fic in July 🫠 but I am very excited to be back writing, reading and posting once again! I hope you enjoy. I've missed being here with all you lovely humans so much 🥹

📽 —★ A big thank you to my wonderful friends for reading/hyping me: @milla-frenchy @evolnoomym @thundermartini and @syd-djarin who also helped me with the mood board 💋 love you all so much. And of course @saradika-graphics for the lovely divider

“I’m home!” you shout the second you walk in the door. Dead silent, no response. You shrug as you make your way to your room but pause halfway up the stairs. No one. That means you can do whatever the hell you want. You walk back down, throwing your backpack to the floor an head to the kitchen, grabbing one of your dad's beers from the fridge, taking it out to the deck. You retrieve your hidden cigarette pack taped beneath the table outside. You grab a cigarette and light it up as you lean back in the chair, opening your legs until your feet rest on either side of the lawnchair. After a stressful day at school, you need some kind of relief. Plus, your schoolgirl uniform is much too uncomfortable on a hot summer day, causing you to undo the top few buttons of your white blouse, allowing the small but cool breeze to graze your exposed skin.

“I always thought you were a bit of a slut.”

You look up to see your dad’s buddy Joel leaning in the doorway, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth as well. Instead of jumping up, snapping your legs shut, or covering your chest, you give him the finger. That guy can go fuck himself.

“And so polite too.”

“Joel, the last thing I need right now is you and your opinion. School sucked, and I don’t give a shit what you think of me.”

“Christ, kid, I was only fucking with you. I mean, you do look trashy as hell, but that’s okay. I like trashy.”

“Are you hitting on me now? Really? You’re like seventy.”

“Try again sweetheart,” he says, stepping out onto the deck. You try to ignore him as he walks closer until he stops directly in front of you.

“You like the view, asshole?”

“I don’t know,” he says, leaning down and tilting his head. “I wouldn’t have guessed white. I mean, you don’t seem like the innocent type. More like a black satin sort of girl.”

“Oh, don’t you know?” you reply, taking a drag from your cigarette. “We have to wear white panties too. They check us every morning. We line up in a row, and they make us lift our skirts so they can see what we have on under them.”

“I’ll have to see if they have any openings. Sounds like a good job.”

“Oh fuck you. Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do with one of us, let alone three hundred.”

The bastard sinks down until he’s squatting in front of your now wet panties, still smoking as he admires the view. You finally reach down, open your legs wider, and give him the finger with your hand right in front of your cunt. If he wants to look, he can fucking look at that.

“If you didn’t want me, you’d be in the house already instead of sitting there with those pretty legs open.”

“Is that what you think?” you ask, trembling in spite of yourself. He’s a huge dick, but he’s also right. You do like teasing him, and the thought of him going home and jerking off over you is fun.

“I know it,” he says, sitting down at the bottom of the chair.

“And what would you do with a girl like me? I’ve probably had more sex than you’ll ever have. Better sex too.”

“What, with some stupid school boy who fucks like a jackhammer, hoping he’s found the right hole?”

You look at him, rolling your eyes and shaking your head before butting your cigarette.

“Why don’tcha unbutton that shirt some more? Let me see how you’ve filled out.”

“Jesus Christ. What do you think my dad would say if he saw you eyeing his daughter up and down like a piece of meat?”

“What do you think he’d do if he saw you sitting here spread eagle, smoking a cigarette and drinking his beer? His sweet little angel, showin’ off for his friend?" he responds playfully, raising his eyebrows.

You sit up in the chair, never breaking his gaze as you undo the next two buttons of your blouse, revealing your naked chest.

“You’re not going to do a thing,” you say, reaching down and opening your shirt just enough for him to get a glimpse. “You’re going to sit there and drool over my body.”

“Is that whatcha think?” he chuckles. “What's actually going to happen is that I'm going to bend you over and fuck you until you cry.”

“You’d probably come the second you got a glimpse of my pussy. I bet you’re so hard right now you can barely think."

“Try me,” he says, moving up between your legs. His hand now under your skirt.

“Let go and I’ll show you,” you say, your voice nearly catching in your throat. He moves his hand in an instant. You reach down, gently touching the lips around your clit through the thin white fabric. Joel watches the entire time, never taking his eyes off of your hand. “Is this what you want?” you say, pulling the white cotton to one side, exposing your pussy to his greedy eyes.

“It’s a start,” he replies as he moves closer. He lifts your legs up over his knees. You are silent as he unzips his pants, and as much as you try not to watch, you can’t help yourself. He reaches in, and in one fluid motion, his cock juts out of his boxers.

“Jesus,” you say as he begins to stroke himself slowly. He’s only partially hard, but his cock is big and thick, and you are on dangerous ground.

“Just like those high school boys?” he asks, reaching out, grabbing you around the waist. Before you can protest, he pulls you up onto his lap, his hard cock stuck between your pussy and his stomach. His other hand joins the first until his fingers dig into the cheeks of your ass. His face is inches from you.

“You don’t have the nerve,” you say, not willing to look away.

Joel wastes no time as he tears your blouse open, the last remaining buttons flying off as he pulls it down over your shoulders, your bare breasts now fully visible. He tugs it down even further until it slides off your arms, leaving you topless.

“I’m going to fuck you, baby. I’m going to push those panties to one side, shove my big cock in you, and then listen to you scream.”

“I’ll tell my dad,” you whisper.

“No you won’t,” he says, sliding his hand all the way beneath you. As he holds you tight, he slips his fingers beneath your panties and then inside your now soaking wet pussy, working them in and out for a few seconds before bringing his hand up to your mouth and pushing his fingers between your lips. You gladly lick your excitement off his thick digits, feeling his large cock grow against you.

“You’re going to come in seconds," you whisper. “If you even make it inside me. You have no idea how sweet my little cunt is."

“Guess we’ll have to find out. But first, let’s see if you’re right, or if you’re just a filthy little slut who needs another dick.”

Before you can think of a response, he lifts you up, pushing your panties to one side, and then guides his large cock into you. In one swift motion, he’s deep inside of you, and you are on his lap. You try to suppress a moan as he pulls you closer.

“You knew this was going to happen the second you saw me. And so did I,” he adds.

He begins to move slowly, feeling him slide in and out of you each time you tighten your grip. Fuck, he feels good; his cock hitting your walls in all the right places. It’s not fair.

“And you’re a whore,” he says, moving his mouth down your chin, making his way down your neck.

“You’re an asshole,” you mutter, causing him to thrust harder.

“Which is why you’re letting me fuck you.” His hands run through your hair, gripping it in his hand as he continues to fuck you. You moan louder, trying to hold back a scream as his fingers grip tighter and tighter around your hair. You can feel his balls throbbing against you as his breath quickens. You are on fire as his cock pumps into your wet, hot, sensitive pussy, causing both of you to groan loudly. You can tell he’s close to his own release; you can feel your pussy convulsing, and you start moving on him harder. He grabs your hips, holding you still as he pounds himself into you. His balls clench tight as he groans loudly in ecstasy, his breath harsh with lust. His climax soon follows after, rope after rope of hot liquid exploding inside of you. He stays buried inside of you as the orgasm takes over him completely. After a few moments of catching his breath, Joel looks at you and mutters between breaths, "Just because I came doesn’t mean I’m done with you.”

And then he pulls out of you, flipping you over, pushing you down onto the deck chair and your panties to the side so you can feel him against you, his cock still dripping. But then, somehow, he’s back inside of you, fucking you into the fabric of the chair. “You might be cute, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, feeling his weight against you, pinning you down. When he reaches an arm around your neck, you begin to moan. Oh god, don’t stop Joel. Don’t stop fucking me; I’m gonna come.”

“That’s right, baby. Come for me. Come like the little slut you are.”

“Fuck!” you cry out, feeling yourself let go completely. You shake and tremble as you clench around him. His breath picks up as he’s close to his own orgasm.

“I’m going to come in this pussy one more time.”

“No!” you beg, needing to at least pretend to resist when in fact you don't want this to ever end. The thought of him coming in you again makes your pussy tighten in anticipation. Then finally, when it seems he won't ever come inside of you, he does. Your entire body begins trembling, fighting against another orgasm. As you feel him pull out of you, he turns you over, putting his hand in your panties and cupping your cheek. Your eyes open wide, and you can feel the warm liquid dripping from your thighs. He looks down at his own cock. It too has started to twitch.

“Look at the mess you made," he whispers, placing the tip of his cock into the wetness. "You'd better clean this up before someone sees. You're going to lick every drop,” he commands. You nod. "Good girl."

As you place kisses along his cock, licking away any remaining semen, Joel watches in amusement. You stand up, looking up at him.

“Are you satisfied?" you ask.

“For now," he smirks, turning towards the house. "See ya tomorrow." With that, he goes up the porch steps, his back to you and makes his way home, only to be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after.

[pucksandpower]

Never? Never.

Day 14 → Innocence Play 💋 Lewis Hamilton

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

The office feels charged. There’s a weight in the air, one that sits low on Lewis’ chest as he waits. His arms are crossed, and he leans back slightly in his chair, fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the armrest.

He’s not impatient, exactly. More … curious. A steady line of candidates has been moving in and out all morning, but none of them have made much of an impression.

Then the door opens.

You step in, and for a second, the world seems to shift. Lewis sits up straighter, the tapping on the armrest stops as his hand stills. It’s subtle, but something inside him clicks.

You’re standing there, blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes, dressed in a way that shouldn’t catch his attention but does. There’s something about you — something that feels out of place, but in a way that demands his attention.

You look young. Too young, maybe. But your resume … he remembers it well. It was strong, impressive even, especially for someone your age.

That’s why you’re here, why you got the interview. But now that he sees you — sees the way your lips press together nervously, the way your hands fidget at your sides — he knows. He’s already decided.

You’re the one.

He clears his throat, motions toward the chair opposite him. “You can sit.”

You hesitate for half a second, then move quickly to take a seat. Your movements are precise but careful, like you’re hyper-aware of the space around you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your voice almost a whisper. Lewis has to resist the urge to lean in closer, as if proximity could make you louder.

For a moment, there’s silence. It hangs in the air between you, but it isn’t uncomfortable. He watches you, studies the way your fingers lace together in your lap, the way your gaze flickers between him and the floor.

“So,” Lewis finally says, his voice deep, smooth, breaking the stillness. “You’re younger than I expected.”

You look up sharply, and there it is — that nervous energy he noticed the moment you walked in. “Is that … a problem?”

Lewis leans back in his chair, watching you carefully. “Not necessarily.” He lets the words hang, lets you sit with them for a moment. Then he adds, “Your resume says enough. But you know, experience counts too.”

You nod quickly, like you’ve rehearsed this. “I’ve worked hard to gain as much experience as possible, despite my age. I did an accelerated program, internships, and I’ve had hands-on experience in sports therapy.”

He smirks a little, not unkindly. “That’s what the resume says. But I want to know if you can keep up. My schedule is … demanding.”

“I can handle demanding.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow, intrigued. There’s a quiet strength in your voice now, something steady beneath the nerves. It draws him in. “You sure?”

You nod again, a little more confidently this time. “I’m sure.”

For a moment, he just looks at you. There’s something about your determination, your innocence wrapped in a quiet kind of fierceness, that makes him want to test you. Push a little further. See how far you’ll go.

“You know what I do, right?” he asks, voice low, almost teasing. “How intense it gets?”

Your lips part slightly, eyes wide again, but you don’t look away. “I know.”

“And you think you can keep up with that? With me?”

You hesitate, but only for a fraction of a second. “I do.”

Lewis lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and there’s a flicker of something — something he can’t quite name — that runs through him. Maybe it’s the way you sit there, unwavering under his scrutiny. Or maybe it’s the fact that you’re still so young, so innocent, yet there’s an undeniable strength beneath it all.

“You don’t look like you belong here,” he says suddenly, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

Your cheeks flush, but you don’t back down. “Maybe I don’t. But I can do the job.”

That makes him smile, really smile this time. “Confident.”

You don’t respond, just look at him with those wide, innocent eyes that make something inside him twist. He’s always liked control, liked knowing where everything stands, and right now, he’s trying to figure out where you fit into that. Because you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t affect him like this. But you do.

“Okay,” he says finally, breaking the silence again. “Let’s say I believe you. What makes you think you can handle me?”

You blink, clearly caught off guard. “I-I mean, I’ve worked with athletes before. High pressure, fast-paced environments.”

Lewis shakes his head, leaning forward now, arms resting on the table between you. “No. What makes you think you can handle me? It’s not just about keeping up with the physical demands. It’s about knowing what I need, sometimes before I even know it myself.”

You swallow hard, and he watches as you process the question. It’s not fair, not really, because how could you possibly know what he’s asking for? But he wants to see how you’ll respond, how far you’ll go to prove yourself.

“I … I think I’m good at reading people,” you say slowly, carefully. “I can pick up on what they need, even when they don’t say it out loud. I don’t know everything about you yet, but I’m confident I can learn.”

There it is again — that quiet strength. The determination that makes something inside him tighten. He likes it. He likes you.

“You’re not what I expected,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer now.

You blink, unsure how to respond. “Is that … bad?”

Lewis shakes his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “No. It’s not bad at all.”

There’s a beat of silence, then he adds, “You’ve got the job.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “But … you didn’t ask me any real questions. You haven’t seen what I can do.”

“I don’t need to,” he says simply, standing up from his chair. He walks around the table, stopping just in front of you. “I already know.”

You stand too, a little more slowly, still looking at him like you can’t quite believe what’s happening. “But … why?”

Lewis steps closer, close enough now that he can see the way your breath hitches just slightly. He lowers his voice, eyes locked on yours. “Because you’re the only one who walked in here and made me feel something.”

Your breath catches, and for a second, neither of you move. There’s something electric in the air, something that crackles between you, and Lewis feels it in his chest, in the way his pulse quickens.

“You’re going to learn a lot,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper now. “About me. About what I need. And I’m going to push you, test you, see how far you can go. But I think you’re ready for that.”

You swallow hard, and he watches as you try to steady yourself, try to keep up with the intensity of his gaze. “I … I am.”

Lewis nods, satisfied. “Good. We start tomorrow.”

With that, he steps back, giving you a little space, though the air between you still feels charged, thick with something unspoken. You seem unsure of what to say, how to respond, but Lewis doesn’t need words right now.

He turns, walking toward the door, but pauses just before opening it. Without looking back, he says, “See you at 6 AM sharp. Don’t be late.”

Then he’s gone, leaving you standing there, breathless and wide-eyed, already wrapped up in something you can’t quite name yet.

But Lewis knows.

He knew the moment you walked in.

You were always meant to be his.

***

The penthouse feels warm, alive in the afterglow of celebration. Outside, the city hums in the late hours, but inside, it’s just the two of you. The clink of glasses and quiet laughter fills the space as you sit on the plush couch, facing each other.

The race earlier had been electric — Lewis on top of the podium again, his smile wide and genuine, the energy of the crowd still buzzing in his veins. Now, it’s quieter. The adrenaline has faded to something softer, and there’s a comfortable ease between you that hadn’t been there in those early days. It’s been months of working together, and you’ve found your rhythm.

Lewis leans back, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm resting lazily on the back of the couch. His other hand holds a glass of Almave and he swirls the liquid idly, watching the way the light catches in the amber liquid.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he says, his voice low, cutting through the comfortable silence.

You look up at him, blinking a little as if pulled from your thoughts. “Just … taking it all in.”

Lewis smiles, a slow, crooked thing that makes your heart skip a beat. “Good night, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “It was … perfect.”

He watches you for a moment, studying the way you say it, the way your eyes seem to sparkle just a little more tonight. You’re both a little tipsy on the high of the win and the celebratory toasts that followed. The Almave is smooth, the evening smooth, and everything feels just a little softer around the edges.

“You’re getting better at this,” he says, leaning forward slightly, eyes still locked on you. “The whole celebration thing.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be the one celebrating.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Why not? You’re part of this. Part of me.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, heavier than you expected, and you don’t know what to say. Lewis is always like this — direct, confident, never afraid to make you think, to push just a little further than you’re comfortable. It’s why you’ve grown so much since you started working with him. He makes you better, challenges you in ways no one ever has.

“You don’t have to keep quiet when things go well,” he continues, his voice soft but firm. “You’re allowed to enjoy it.”

You nod, but there’s something in your eyes, something guarded. He notices it right away, the way you pull back just a little, and he doesn’t like it. He wants to break through that wall you still keep up sometimes, even after all these months.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, leaning in a little closer now, his voice low and gentle. “You look like you’re holding something back.”

You shift uncomfortably, eyes darting away for a second before you force yourself to look at him again. “Nothing. I’m just … tired.”

“Liar.” He says it with a teasing smile, but his eyes are sharp, focused on you in that way he has, like he can see straight through the layers you try to put up. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nod, but there’s a hesitation, a flicker of something that passes over your face. Lewis doesn’t miss it. He never misses anything when it comes to you.

“You don’t believe me,” he says, voice softer now, almost coaxing.

“I do,” you protest, but it’s weak, unconvincing.

Lewis sets his glass down on the coffee table, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Tell me something,” he says quietly, his eyes holding yours. “Something you’ve never told anyone before.”

You blink, the request catching you off guard. Your eyes widen slightly, and Lewis can see the panic flash across your face, just for a second.

“I don’t know if-” you start, but Lewis cuts you off.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No deflecting. You can trust me.”

There’s a beat of silence, and he watches as you wrestle with yourself, weighing whether or not to let him in. He’s patient, though. He knows you need time. And he knows you’ll tell him, eventually. You always do.

“I don’t …” you start, then stop, biting your lip as you look down at your hands. “It’s … personal.”

Lewis leans back again, but his eyes stay fixed on you. “That’s the point. I’m asking you to let me in.”

You fidget in your seat, your fingers twisting in your lap as you avoid his gaze. “I’m just not sure if it’s … the right time.”

Lewis lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “If not now, when? We’ve been doing this — whatever this is — for months now. I think we’re past the point of secrets, don’t you?”

You stay quiet, your eyes darting to the side, and Lewis can see the internal battle you’re fighting. He can almost feel it, the way you’re teetering on the edge of letting something out that you’ve kept hidden for a long time.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to place a hand on your knee, his touch light but grounding. “It’s just me. You know that, right?”

You finally look up at him, your eyes searching his for something — reassurance, maybe, or understanding. And Lewis holds your gaze, steady and unwavering, waiting for you to decide.

“I don’t know if you really want to hear this,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis tilts his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Try me.”

There’s a long pause, the air between you thick with tension. Then, finally, you take a deep breath, your shoulders rising and falling with the weight of whatever it is you’re about to say.

“I’ve never told anyone this,” you start, your voice shaky but determined. “Because it’s … it’s embarrassing. And I don’t really know how to-”

Lewis cuts you off, his voice gentle but firm. “Don’t overthink it. Just say it.”

You swallow hard, your eyes dropping to your hands again as you fidget with the hem of your shirt. There’s a long pause, and Lewis can see how hard this is for you, how much you’re struggling to get the words out. But he stays quiet, giving you the space you need, his hand still resting on your knee, a steady presence.

Then, in a voice so soft he almost doesn’t hear it, you finally speak.

“I’ve never had an orgasm.”

***

There’s a stillness in the room after your words hang in the air. Lewis watches you, his eyes sharp, but his expression softens — careful. He wasn’t expecting that. Of all the things you could’ve said, this isn’t what crossed his mind. But there it is. Laid bare between you both.

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” His voice is quiet, but there’s something darker beneath it, something that makes the air feel heavier, charged.

You don’t look at him, your face flushed with embarrassment, your hands still fidgeting in your lap. “I don’t … I don’t really know why,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just never happened.”

Lewis leans back against the couch, his arm sliding across the backrest, fingers just brushing the top of your shoulder. He’s processing this, taking his time. He’s no stranger to intimacy, but this is different. This is you.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, sees the way you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice low, pulling you back from wherever your mind is racing to. “Look at me.”

You hesitate, but finally, your eyes meet his. There’s vulnerability there, a kind of rawness that makes his chest tighten. He’s used to seeing you composed, in control of yourself, even when you’re nervous. But now? Now you look small, like you’re afraid of being judged.

Lewis doesn’t judge. Not you. Not ever.

“First of all,” he says, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “there’s nothing embarrassing about that. Understand?”

You nod, but you don’t look convinced. He can tell this is something you’ve been carrying around for a while, something that’s weighed on you.

“And second,” he continues, his smile widening just a little, “I may be vegan, but I’d be more than happy to devour you.”

Your eyes widen in shock, your mouth parting slightly as his words sink in. “What?” You whisper, like you didn’t hear him right.

Lewis chuckles, low and deep, leaning in closer. “You heard me.”

He can see the confusion in your eyes, the way your mind is working overtime to process what he’s offering. He likes seeing you like this — unsure, but curious. There’s something about the innocence in your gaze that stirs something primal in him, something possessive.

“I-” you start, but you cut yourself off, clearly unsure of how to respond.

Lewis tilts his head slightly, watching you carefully, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to do anything. Let me take the lead.”

Your breath hitches, and he watches as your lips part again, eyes darting away from his. You’re nervous, he knows that. But there’s something else too, something that feels like anticipation. You’re intrigued, curious, maybe even a little excited by the prospect of letting go.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers now twisting the fabric of your shirt again.

Lewis shifts, closing the space between you, his hand moving to cup your chin gently, turning your face so that you’re looking at him. “You don’t have to know,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “All you need to do is trust me. Can you do that?”

You hesitate, your eyes searching his, trying to find something, some kind of reassurance. But there’s only certainty in his gaze, the kind that comes with confidence, with control. He knows what he’s doing, knows how to read you, and he wants to show you just how good it can be.

“Yes,” you finally breathe, the word barely audible but enough for Lewis to hear.

“Good,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing your bottom lip now. He watches as your breath catches, your lips parting just slightly under his touch. There’s a shift in the air between you, something electric, and Lewis feels it deep in his chest. He’s been patient with you, kept things professional, but there’s always been this undercurrent, this tension.

He’s not interested in waiting any longer.

His hand drops from your chin, trailing down your neck, fingers brushing over your collarbone. He watches the way your chest rises and falls, how your breath quickens just from the lightest touch. It’s intoxicating, watching you respond to him like this, and he knows you’re feeling it too — the pull, the anticipation.

“Let me show you,” he whispers, his voice low, almost a growl. “I want you to feel everything.”

You bite your lip, clearly still nervous, but you don’t pull away. You’re trusting him, even though you’re unsure of where this is going.

Lewis leans in, his lips just inches from your ear as he whispers, “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

Your body stiffens for a moment, but then he feels you melt into his touch as his hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you closer. It’s slow, deliberate, the way he moves, as if he’s savoring each moment, each small reaction from you. And that’s exactly what he’s doing.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching your face, gauging how you’re feeling. There’s still that uncertainty in your gaze, but there’s something else too — desire. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and Lewis can feel it in the way your body leans into his, the way your breath hitches whenever he touches you.

“Don’t think,” he murmurs, his lips just brushing against yours, teasing. “Just feel.”

You nod slightly, and that’s all the permission he needs. He closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s soft at first, almost testing the waters. But as soon as he feels you respond — feels the way your lips part under his, the way you sigh into the kiss — it deepens. His hand moves to your waist, gripping you tighter, pulling you even closer as he takes control, guiding the pace, the rhythm.

You’re tentative, unsure, but you’re following his lead. And that’s all he needs.

Lewis pulls away just slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. His thumb brushes over your cheek, and he can feel the warmth radiating from your skin, the way your body is buzzing with something new, something unfamiliar.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly, his voice rough but tender, his hand sliding down to your hip, holding you steady.

Your eyes flutter open, and you look at him with a kind of awe, like you can’t quite believe what’s happening. “I … I don’t know,” you whisper, your voice shaky. “I feel … different.”

Lewis smiles, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip again. “Good different?”

You nod, biting your lip again, and he can see the way your body is responding, even if you’re not fully aware of it yet. You’re relaxing into him, letting go of that initial hesitation, and he loves seeing it — the way you’re starting to trust him, to trust yourself.

“Let me keep going,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear again, sending a shiver down your spine. “I want to make you feel good. Just … let me lead.”

You hesitate for a second, your breath catching in your throat, but then you nod. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but it’s there.

Lewis doesn’t waste another second. His hand slides down your side, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of your waist, your hip, while his other hand cradles the back of your neck, pulling you closer for another kiss. This one is deeper, hungrier, and he can feel you responding, your body leaning into his touch, your lips parting for him.

He’s in control. And you’re letting him be.

And as the night stretches on, Lewis knows one thing for sure — he’s going to show you everything you’ve been missing.

Lewis deepens the kiss, feeling the way you respond, how you melt into his touch. He moves with a slow, deliberate intensity, his hand exploring the curves of your body, memorizing every line and contour. There’s a purpose to his movements — he wants to show you what you’ve been missing, and he’s determined to do it right.

“Just relax,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “Let me take care of you.”

You nod slightly, your breath hitching as his hand slips under your shirt, fingers brushing against your skin. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and Lewis feels it, the way your body reacts to his touch. He smiles, a dark, satisfied smile, knowing he’s already starting to break through the walls you’ve built up.

His lips leave yours, trailing a path down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly. He can feel your pulse quicken, the way your breath comes in shallow gasps, and it only fuels his desire. He wants to hear you, to feel you lose control, to know that he’s the one making you feel this way.

“Do you trust me?” He whispers, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Yes,” you breathe, the word barely audible, but it’s enough for Lewis.

“Good,” he replies, his hand moving lower, tracing the waistband of your jeans. “Just let go. Let me show you what it’s like.”

You nod again, and Lewis feels a surge of satisfaction. He wants to take his time with you, to savor every moment, every reaction. His fingers deftly undo the button of your jeans, and he feels you tense slightly.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing purr. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You take a shaky breath, and he can feel you trying to relax, to trust him. He slides your jeans down, his hands trailing over your thighs, his touch light but firm. He wants you to feel every sensation, to be completely aware of what he’s doing.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, but there’s a softness there too, a tenderness that surprises even him. He wants this to be good for you, wants to show you how it should feel.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly, his hands moving back up, caressing your skin. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

You bite your lip, your eyes locked on his, and Lewis can see the mix of emotions there — nervousness, anticipation, desire. It’s intoxicating.

He leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss, his hand slipping between your thighs, finding the soft fabric of your underwear. He can feel the heat radiating from you, the way your body is already responding to his touch.

“Just let me lead,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers teasing you through the fabric. “I promise you’re going to love this.”

You nod, and Lewis takes it as his cue. He slips his fingers under the waistband, finding the soft, wet heat of you. You gasp, your body arching into his touch, and he smiles against your skin.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. “Just feel.”

You’re breathing harder now, your hands gripping his shoulders, and Lewis can feel the way your body is trembling. He watches your face, the way your eyes flutter closed, your lips parted as you try to catch your breath.

“You’re so responsive,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I love how you’re reacting to me.”

He increases the pressure slightly, his fingers finding a rhythm that has you gasping, your body arching off the couch. He can feel you getting wetter, your arousal slick against his fingers, and it drives him wild.

“Do you like that?” He asks, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice breathless. “Oh God, yes.”

“Good,” he replies, his fingers moving faster now, the pace increasing. “Because I’m not stopping until you come for me.”

You moan, your body trembling as the pleasure builds, and Lewis can feel you getting closer, your muscles tensing, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. He wants to push you over the edge, to see you lose control completely.

“Let go,” he murmurs, his voice a rough command. “I want to feel you come.”

You’re close, he can feel it, and he moves his fingers faster, his thumb finding just the right spot. You cry out, your body arching off the couch, and Lewis can feel you clenching around his fingers as the orgasm crashes over you.

“That’s it,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Let it out.”

You’re trembling, gasping for breath, and Lewis doesn’t stop, his fingers still moving, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. He wants you to feel it completely, to know what it’s like to lose yourself in the sensation.

As the waves of pleasure finally start to subside, he slows his movements, his touch gentle now, soothing. He watches you, the way your chest rises and falls, your eyes still closed, a look of bliss on your face.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping out, his hand moving to rest on your thigh. “Absolutely incredible.”

You open your eyes, looking at him with a mix of amazement and exhaustion. “I … I can’t believe that just happened,” you whisper.

Lewis smiles, a slow, satisfied smile. “Believe it. And trust me, it’s only the beginning.”

He leans in, kissing you deeply, his hand still resting on your thigh, grounding you. He can feel the way your body is still trembling slightly, the aftershocks of your orgasm making you shiver.

“How do you feel?” He asks softly, his lips brushing against yours.

“Amazing,” you reply, your voice shaky but filled with wonder. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

Lewis chuckles, a low, satisfied sound. “Oh, it can be even better. I promise you.”

You bite your lip, looking at him with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. “Really?”

“Really,” he says, his hand moving up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “I want to show you everything, make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

You blush, the color rising in your cheeks, and Lewis feels a surge of affection for you. You’re still so shy, so unsure, but you’re trusting him, and that means everything to him.

“I want that,” you say softly, your eyes locked on his.

“Good,” he replies, his voice filled with determination. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

He kisses you again, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. His hand slips back down, finding the heat of you once more, and he can feel the way your body responds, the way you’re already getting aroused again.

“I want to taste you,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire. “I want to make you come with my mouth.”

You gasp, your eyes wide with surprise and anticipation. “I … I’ve never …”

Lewis cuts you off with a kiss, his hand moving to gently push you back against the couch. “Trust me,” he says, his voice a low growl. “You’re going to love this.”

He moves down your body, his lips trailing over your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake. He takes his time, savoring each moment, each reaction, until he’s settled between your thighs, his hands gently spreading you open.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

You’re trembling, your breath coming in short gasps, and Lewis can feel the anticipation radiating off you. He leans in, his tongue flicking out to taste you, and the sound you make — the soft, desperate moan — drives him wild.

He starts slow, teasing, his tongue moving in gentle, deliberate strokes, wanting to savor the taste of you, the way you respond to his touch. He can feel your body tensing, your hips arching towards him, and he holds you steady, his hands gripping your thighs.

“Just let go,” he murmurs against your skin, his tongue finding a rhythm that has you gasping, your fingers tangling in his braids. “Let me make you feel good.”

You’re moaning now, your body trembling as the pleasure builds, and Lewis can feel the way you’re getting closer, the way your muscles are tensing, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“Oh God,” you gasp, your voice high and breathless. “Lewis, please …”

He smiles against your skin, increasing the pressure, his tongue moving faster, more insistent. He wants to push you over the edge again, to feel you lose control completely.

“Come for me,” he growls, his hands gripping your thighs tighter. “I want to taste you.”

You cry out, your body arching off the couch as the orgasm crashes over you, and Lewis doesn’t stop, his tongue still moving, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. He wants you to feel it completely, to know what it’s like to lose yourself in the sensation.

As the waves of pleasure finally start to subside, he slows his movements, his touch gentle now, soothing. Lewis pulls back slightly, watching you as you lay there, your chest still rising and falling from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

The look on your face — blissful, flushed, and so vulnerable — makes something twist deep in his chest. You’ve just experienced something new, something he’s given you, and the knowledge of that fills him with an intense satisfaction.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his smile slow and full of heat. “You taste incredible,” he murmurs again, voice rough, letting the words hang between you. “I’ve never tasted anything better.”

You’re still catching your breath, but your eyes find his, and there’s a spark of something there — nervous, but … curious.

Lewis can see the way you hesitate, the way you’re trying to form words but don’t quite know how. He leans in, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “What is it, love?” He asks, his voice soft, coaxing. He’s patient, not wanting to rush you.

You bite your lip, your cheeks flushed with both the intensity of what’s just happened and the thought clearly forming in your mind. “I … I want to …” You hesitate, glancing away briefly, embarrassed. “I want to do the same to you.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow, intrigued, but he doesn’t say anything. He waits, watching the way your gaze drops to his chest, avoiding eye contact.

“I just don’t know … how,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

His heart stirs at your shyness, the vulnerability of your admission. There’s something so genuine about you, so unaffected. He can see the innocence still lingering in your eyes, even after everything that’s just happened. It makes him want to be gentle, to guide you, to show you that there’s no pressure here — just a shared experience between the two of you.

Lewis shifts his weight, sitting up and leaning back against the cushions. He reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing across your skin. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

You shake your head quickly, your hand reaching out to touch his chest, your fingers splayed against his skin. “I want to,” you say, the words coming out more firmly now, but still tinged with uncertainty. “I just … I don’t want to mess it up.”

Lewis chuckles, the sound low and warm, easing the tension in the room. “You won’t mess it up,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Trust me, you can’t mess this up.”

You glance up at him, your eyes searching his face, and he can see the resolve settling in. Slowly, you shift, moving closer to him, your hands tentatively sliding down his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle. Lewis watches you carefully, his breath slowing as your touch grows more confident.

Your fingers dip lower, brushing the waistband of his sweatpants, and you pause, glancing up at him again. “What do I … do first?” You ask, your voice small but filled with curiosity.

Lewis reaches down, his hand gently covering yours, guiding it to the drawstring of his pants. “You start by taking these off,” he says, his voice deep, steady. “Just go slow.”

You swallow hard, but you nod, your fingers trembling slightly as you untie the knot and slowly pull his pants down. Lewis helps you, lifting his hips slightly to ease them off, and soon, they’re discarded on the floor. He’s left in just his boxers, his arousal evident beneath the thin fabric.

You bite your lip again, your eyes widening slightly as you take in the sight of him. “I don’t … I don’t know if I’ll be good at this,” you admit, your voice wavering with uncertainty.

Lewis reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch soft, reassuring. “You don’t have to be perfect,” he says gently. “Just listen to me, and I’ll tell you what feels good. Okay?”

You nod, your nerves still there, but there’s a determination in your gaze now, a desire to learn, to please him the way he pleased you. Slowly, you reach for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down carefully, and Lewis lets out a low breath as he’s freed from the confines of the fabric.

For a moment, you just stare, your hand hovering uncertainly above him. “It’s … bigger than I thought,” you murmur, and Lewis can’t help but grin at your honesty.

“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “You’ll get used to it.”

You look up at him, biting your lip nervously, and Lewis reaches down, taking your hand in his. He guides it to him, his breath hitching slightly as your fingers wrap around him, tentative but curious.

“Like this?” You ask, your voice small, unsure.

Lewis closes his eyes briefly, feeling the warmth of your hand around him, the softness of your touch. “Yeah,” he breathes, his voice rougher now. “Just like that.”

You start slow, your hand moving tentatively at first, feeling your way through the unfamiliar motions. Lewis watches you, his breath deepening as you grow more confident, your movements becoming more fluid. He can see the concentration on your face, the way you’re so focused on getting it right, and it only makes him want you more.

“Am I doing it okay?” You ask, glancing up at him, your eyes wide, seeking approval.

Lewis groans softly, his hand moving to rest on the back of your neck. “You’re doing perfect,” he says, his voice thick with desire. “Just keep going.”

You bite your lip again, nodding slightly as your hand moves faster, finding a rhythm. Lewis’ breath hitches, his body tensing slightly as the pleasure starts to build. He’s trying to stay in control, to guide you, but you’re learning quickly, and the way your touch feels — tentative yet eager — is driving him wild.

“You’re so good at this,” he murmurs, his hand tightening slightly on the back of your neck, encouraging you. “Just like that.”

Your cheeks flush at his praise, and you seem to grow even more confident, your movements more sure. Lewis can feel his control slipping, the pleasure coiling tight in his gut, but he doesn’t want to rush this. He wants you to feel how much he’s enjoying it, how good you’re making him feel.

“Do you want to use your mouth?” He asks, his voice low, rough with desire. “I can show you how.”

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes widening slightly at the suggestion, but then you nod. “Yes,” you whisper. “Show me.”

Lewis shifts, adjusting himself so that you have better access, and he cups your cheek gently, guiding you closer. “Just start slow,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your lips. “Don’t worry about being perfect. Just take your time.”

You nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you lean in, your lips brushing against him tentatively at first. Lewis groans softly, his hand tightening on the back of your neck, but he’s careful not to push you too hard. He wants you to move at your own pace, to find your own rhythm.

You open your mouth, taking him in slowly, and Lewis’ breath hitches, his body tensing as the warmth of your mouth surrounds him. “Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “You feel so good.”

You look up at him, your eyes wide, and he can see the uncertainty there, but also the desire to please him. He groans, his hand guiding you gently, showing you how to move, how to take him deeper, how to use your tongue.

“Just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “You’re doing so good, love.”

You follow his lead, your movements slow and tentative at first, but you’re learning quickly, finding a rhythm that has Lewis’ breath coming in shallow gasps. He can feel his control slipping, the pleasure coiling tighter with each passing moment.

He’s never felt anything like this — the combination of your innocence, your eagerness to learn, and the way you look up at him, eyes wide and full of curiosity — it’s intoxicating.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hand tightening on the back of your neck as you take him deeper, your mouth moving in perfect rhythm with his guidance. “You’re gonna make me come if you continue doing that.”

You pause for a moment, looking up at him with wide eyes, and Lewis chuckles softly, his hand brushing through your hair. “Keep going,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I want you to finish me off.”

You nod slightly, your lips sliding back down over him, and Lewis can’t hold back the groan that escapes his lips. The pleasure is building fast, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer, not with the way you’re moving, the way you’re looking at him like you’re determined to please him.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, his hand tightening in your hair as the pleasure coils tight in his gut. “Fuck, you’re so good at this.”

You take him deeper, your mouth working in perfect rhythm, and Lewis can feel the tension building, the pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave. He groans loudly, his body tensing as he reaches the edge.

“God, I’m gonna come,” he gasps, his hand tightening in your hair. “You should stop if you don’t want to swallow-”

But you don’t stop. Instead, you push even further, taking him deeper into your mouth, your movements growing more confident, more determined. Your tongue swirls around him, your hand stroking in time with your lips, and Lewis feels his control shatter.

He’s never felt anything like this — your eagerness, your willingness to please him, the way you’re pushing yourself to learn and to give him everything he needs. It’s overwhelming, and it sends him spiraling over the edge.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head falling back, his eyes closing as the pleasure crashes over him in waves. His body tenses, his muscles locking up as he comes, the intensity of it almost too much to handle.

You don’t pull away. You keep going, your mouth and hand working together to draw out every last bit of his orgasm, your movements steady and sure. He can feel the way you’re trying to take everything, the way you’re pushing yourself, and it drives him wild.

He’s gasping for breath, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release, and he forces himself to open his eyes, to look down at you. You’re still there, your eyes locked on his, a mixture of determination and curiosity in your gaze.

“God, you’re amazing,” he breathes, his voice rough and unsteady. He gently pulls you away, his hands cupping your cheeks, guiding you up to his level. “You didn’t have to do all that, you know.”

You bite your lip, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I wanted to,” you say softly. “I wanted to make you feel good.”

Lewis’s heart swells at your words, the sincerity in your voice. He leans in, kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your lips, and it only makes him want you more. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close.

“You did,” he murmurs against your lips. “You made me feel incredible. You’re incredible.”

You blush, the color rising in your cheeks, and Lewis can’t help but smile. There’s something so genuine about you, so unaffected by everything that’s happened. It makes him want to protect you, to show you that you’re safe with him, that you can trust him.

He pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, his expression softening. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “For trusting me. For letting me be the one to show you this.”

You smile shyly, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Thank you for being so patient,” you reply. “For making me feel … good.”

Lewis chuckles softly, his hand brushing through your hair. “I’d say we both came out of this feeling pretty good,” he says, a teasing glint in his eye.

You laugh, the sound light and carefree, and it’s like music to his ears. He kisses you again, slow and tender, savoring the moment. There’s a warmth between you now, a connection that wasn’t there before, and it feels like the start of something new, something real.

As the night wears on, you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, talking and laughing, the intimacy of the moment lingering between you. In the back of his mind, Lewis knows that this is just the beginning, that there’s so much more to explore, so much more to learn about each other. And he can’t wait to do so.

[corporalswhore]

— souvenir (satoru gojo)

pairing: satoru gojo x student!reader

summary: satoru realizes that he doesn’t see you as his little girl anymore. cue moral dilemma.

warnings: teacher/student relationship. dark content. major age gap. reader is legal. nsfw! fingering. mentions of corruption, morally bad satoru gojo but that’s my brand! also, this is unedited, so enjoy this crap <3

satoru gojo knows better.

he is grown — he knows the difference between love and lust. but, sometimes he forgets that they’re two sides of the same coin; that, in an instant, things can change — the coin can flip, whether he likes it or not.

and he knows he didn’t flip this particular token — your coin, he wouldn’t dare. no, you’re his little girl; your piece will forever lay upright on the love side, never budging — he reminds himself.

so, why oh why, is he currently feeling a burning in his stomach, a craving for you — a desire to feel your skin beneath his?

you’re practically his daughter. he raised you from young. fathered you into the woman you are today.

it’s disgusting.

the elders would tell him love is the only pure thing we have, the closest thing to god — and that lust is a mortal sin, the closest thing to the devil.

and he’s starting to realize he is the embodiment of sin.

the moment you both locked eyes, it became a problem — as if there was magic in every silent word from your eyes — you became his downfall. and if the moon were to intervene right now, he’d tell all of satoru’s dirty secrets — that he wants to drop the veil of decency, cross lines with you — how he believes that he must destroy himself in you.

and maybe your coin had been flipped long ago — tossed aside and tucked away deep in his fantasies without him realizing.

poor judgement on his behalf, because he could’ve sworn he felt some sort of fatherly instinct when yuuji had gripped your waist to pull you closer into his chest — but now the dots are connecting.

fuck fatherly instinct, his grip on his drink didn’t tighten because of that — it tightened because it should’ve been him doing that — pulling you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist.

it was never protective, but possessive.

and fuck, satoru shouldn’t be getting so worked up about this. you’re his student. 

his kid.

but what good would reminding him of mere titles do? he’s far too gone, beyond making excuses for his behavior — he’s already unintentionally surrendered himself to you. if he already has his seat reserved in hell, why fight it?

and that’s why his gaze never leaves you the entire night.

not when your feet begin to hurt after being on the dance floor for too long, not when it hits 3am and you’re still giggling with your friends — fingers always clasped around the stem of a glass. and definitely not when your eyes fall on him, all twinkly. giddiness laced in the lopsided smile you shoot him.

and satoru’s heart flutters at the innocence of it all, legs already moving to you. he thinks, what good would making excuses do for him now? nothing. the coin has already been upended, and there’s no backing down now, no changing — no matter how bad he wishes yours had remained untouched.

but instinct, god. at the end of the day, he is just a man — unfortunately. and men should never be trusted around pretty little things like you.

(satoru had always reminded himself of that when he thought of himself as a father, and you his daughter — it was a silent warning in his head when he saw men around you, instantly redirecting you away from them.)

and now, he’s the monster.

because there’s no one else here to protect you, it was only him — and now, he’s playing the role of the villain.

“come on, let me carry you back to your room.” he offers softly, egyptian blue swimming in his eyes as he studies you. and it’s the kind of sight you’ve never had the luxury of witnessing without him. goosebumps rise beneath the weight of his gaze.

you nod, a bit too enthusiastically — alcohol still prominent in your veins.

and that’s your first mistake.

you think he’s being kind, caring — a good caretaker. but you couldn’t be farther from the truth, because satoru gojo has a glint in his eye, something hidden in those irises that screams he is not to be trusted.

though, make no mistake — it wasn’t always there. he has always been pure in his interactions with you. too pure. too loving. too fatherly.

so who can blame you for the way your hand loops through his arm so safely, or the way you let him place his palm on your hip, so protectively (it’s possessive), as he guides you into the lobby. 

“you good, princess?” he whispers into your ear as you both wait for the elevator, and his fingers unintentionally dig deeper into your waist when he hears you hum — a flushed little mhm.

you’re so not good. not with the way you feel him eyeing you, not with his body heat radiating onto you in waves. you’re pressed flush against his side — you think it’s because he doesn’t want you to stumble when you walk. it’s actually because he just wants to feel you against his skin.

regardless, it has you imperceptibly gripping tighter around his arms. but satoru feels it all. every shiver, every goosebump — he’s observing you too much to miss it.

and maybe it’s the liquor, the courage it gives you when he glances down at you as he presses your floor in the elevator — the way you don’t flit your eyes away or look down sheepishly. it’s the way you stare back, almost like a silent invitation.

maybe.

but satoru doesn’t even have time to deduce it when he feels whiskey lips pressed against his, body tumbling into his as you try to get him down to your level.

and there’s a flicker of skilled tongue before he pulls away. gaze darkening as he drinks you in face to face — whispering your name as if it’s the only language he can speak.

as if any other word would break the tension — would forcefully flip your coin back.

(nothing would.)

satoru’s hands find purchase on your hips, rough fingers bunching at the fabric that separates your skin from his. and it gives you the slightest hint that you’re not going to get scolded for kissing your teacher.

it riles your courage more, nimble fingers already flexing at his belt loop.

ding!

and you both pull apart — or rather, satoru takes a single long step back, but his hand never leaves your side.

rushed footsteps fill the hallway as he drags you to your room — almost tripping both of you in his haze. too wrapped up in his desire to ruin you, have you in his arms — god, the moment your breath met with his, he’s been itching to ruin you. the way the fragrance of your body mingled with his soul, slowly constricting around it as you unknowingly eat away at his last resolve — his last chance to be a good person.

should he stop? take his arm off of you and just walk away? bid you farewell with the reassurance that it was just the liquor that had your soft lips pressed against his?

nope, his mind is already made up. body already given into his desires, can’t stop that now, satoru reasons.

and now he’s watching you fumble for your keycard — cheeks flushed and breath coming in slow, ragged. the second he’s in your room, you’re pushed onto the bed — heels kicked off as satoru eyes you, and there’s something weird in his gaze. something you can’t place.

the moon would tell you it’s his selfishness. his thirst for forbidden fruit — the way he won’t hold your stare for too long because his hunger persists, wants, and craves you.

only you.

(suddenly.)

and satoru knows heaven will never know his name.

not when he lifts his fingers to your mouth and tells you to suck. not when he murmurs fucking hell when you teasingly wrap your lips around his middle and ring finger until they are wet.

and definitely not when he tells you to lie back — and almost like a girl with experience, you obediently listen — legs spreading without being asked, giving him a view of your center.

and that — that fucks with him.

because what do you know about this?

but satoru doesn’t dwell on it for long, too focused on stripping your panties down your legs quickly. and when it’s long gone, his fingers slide up your naked core, making you shiver. satoru just chuckles — a low, broken sound — as he rubs slow, deliberate circles around your sensitive nub.

a soft whimper leaves you as you arch your back, hips shifting in a desperate attempt to feel him deeper. and without a second thought, his fingers pound into you, curling and pressing around your heat, producing a sound so filthy it has satoru’s briefs soaked, already dripping in pre-cum. the vigor of his fingers has you gasping out a litany of whimpers and broken whispers of his name.

when satoru finally pulls your first orgasm out of you — his hands quickly find the buckle of his pants and slip it off of him — settling himself between your thighs, elbows braced beside your head, and like instinct, you grip onto him like he’s your lifeline.

and he’s going to take your breath away like a souvenir that he will keep.

[elationeffect]

Light Yagami NSFW headcanons

Here are some NSFW headcanons I have for these this dumbass. I’m back in business baby, please feel free to send an ask! Do not read/interact with this post unless you are over the age of 18.

cw: afab!reader, dubcon, oral, fingering, imbalanced power dynamics, edging, physical marks/restraint, rlly bad @ tagging but lmk if there is anything else i should include

— Light is manipulative and charming in that order. This is a fact. He is attentive when he presses your back to the wall, unyielding when he forces your hips closer to his, and seemingly desperate when he grabs your jaw and traces the line your neck with his gaze. More than the taking, it’s the withholding that hurts.

— He takes great care in memorizing every touch that elicits a breathlessness from you. His thumb in the hollow junction of your neck and shoulders, his lips against the butterfly-thin shell of your ear, his face between the soft curves of your thighs.

 — And when he has you at the edge of his bed with your legs thrown over his shoulders, and he genuflects to perhaps the only person worth worshiping, Light is methodical.

— His hands would move slowly up your leg, grabbing and massaging where he can before pulling your legs apart to reveal a dark spot clinging to the contour of your cunt. Devastatingly slow, he would run his fingers across your twitching form, making sure to rub slow circles along your slit until you’re shaking.

— And when you can’t bear it for one more second, one whimper away from anger, his mouth would be on you. Underwear pulled clinically to the side, he’d press his tongue into your folds and start his slow ministrations. He’d force you to watch as he circles the tip of his pink tongue around your clit, never quite giving you the satisfaction you deserve.

— Light likes to edge you, to see how long you can withstand him. He relishes in taking his time and forcing your hands above your head, made up in knots sometimes by his own weight, other times by his crimson tie.

— But after the kindness wears off and he immerses himself deeper into the game, his God-complex would start to get the better of him.

— One of his favorite ways of owning you is to take your jaw in his hands and face fuck you. Your whole body would be immobilized, forced to kneel in front of him as he shoves his thick cock into your mouth. He’d call you filthy for drooling and grab your hair by the roots to take him from the base. Of course you’d cry, tears converging with your spit, but the sound wouldn’t register as you gagged to the beat of his unrelenting pace.

— He’d take what he wants when he wants it. No God should have to wait after all and you hardly have the power to resist him. He threatened your loved ones after all.

— Despite his inherit need to hurt, Light doesn’t truly harm you. At least, not where anyone can see. Yes, his fingertips are a tattooed bruise on the inner parts of your thighs, and his teeth have left permanent scars on your ass, but he never gave you anything you couldn’t handle.

— Still, he’d tend to your wounds. He’d be distant and objective but at least he still cares. At least, until he returns to his desk and begins the work anew.

[scoupsakakitty]

Close Enough to Burn | idol!Wooyoung x idol!Reader | angst, fluff, slightly seductive

The beat was pulsing low in the walls of the KQ practice studio the kind of beat that stayed in your bones even after the song stopped. Y/N let her hand fall from her ponytail as she checked her reflection in the wall-length mirror. The new hairstylist, Minjae, had just tied it up for her again after dance practice, fixing the flyaways that kept slipping out.

“I swear,” Minjae said with a teasing grin, “this hair of yours has a mind of its own.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a soft laugh. “Maybe it just doesn’t like you touching it so much.”

“Oh?” he grinned, mock-offended. “Now that hurts.”

From the corner of the room, someone else was watching.

Wooyoung stood by the door, arms crossed, his black hoodie half unzipped over his tank top. His eyes were sharp, locked on Y/N’s reflection. He hadn’t said a word since walking in ten minutes ago. Not even when she greeted him.

Y/N’s gaze met his in the mirror. Her smile flickered for a second - just long enough for Minjae to notice.

“You okay?” Minjae asked, following her line of sight. “Oh. Wooyoung-ssi.”

Wooyoung pushed off the wall and walked into the studio like he owned it - like the floor belonged to him and the air needed his permission to stay still.

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, turning to him.

He didn’t answer her. His eyes lingered on her hair - freshly fixed - then flicked to Minjae. “You always this touchy with everyone’s hair, or is it just her?”

Minjae blinked. “It’s kind of my job, Wooyoung-ssi. Styling hair.”

“I noticed,” he said flatly. “You seem to really enjoy it.”

Y/N’s mouth parted slightly. “Wooyoung—”

But he wasn’t done. “You’re new, right? Minjae, was it?”

“Yes,” Minjae said cautiously. “First month here.”

“Interesting,” Wooyoung muttered. “You got comfortable fast.”

“Wooyoung,” Y/N said sharply this time. “Can we talk? Alone.”

Minjae, reading the air instantly, gave a tight smile. “I’ll go prep things for tomorrow’s schedule. Y/N, I’ll see you later?”

She nodded. “Thanks for today.”

Once the door shut behind him, silence stretched like a blade between them.

Y/N turned back to Wooyoung, arms crossed now, matching his stance. “What the hell was that?”

His eyes didn’t flinch. “That was me watching my girlfriend get her hair played with for twenty minutes while she giggled like he was auditioning for her attention.”

She stepped closer. “So you’re jealous.”

“Damn right I am,” he snapped. “Are you even surprised?”

“Jealousy doesn’t look great when it makes you rude to staff,” she shot back, voice tight.

“And letting some guy half your group age play with your hair like you’re in a drama does look great?”

“That’s not fair,” she said, her voice softening. “He’s nice. That’s all.”

Wooyoung gave a bitter laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, nice. With really friendly hands.”

Y/N looked at him for a long moment. Then, without a word, she walked to the speaker and pressed play. The music filled the room again - soft, mid-tempo, the song they had both once danced to together during her trainee days.

He frowned. “What are you doing?”

She walked back to him slowly, deliberately, step by step. “If you have something to say, say it. But don’t stand there like you’re some broken-hearted second lead in a drama.”

Wooyoung scoffed. “I’m not broken-hearted.”

“You’re acting like it.”

She stopped right in front of him, so close he could feel the warmth of her breath.

“I’m with you, Wooyoung,” she said, firm and low. “You. Not him.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Then why does it look like you’re enjoying his attention?”

“Because I’m friendly,” she said, stepping even closer. “But I never look at him the way I look at you. And you know it.”

He looked at her now - really looked. And damn it, she was right. Her eyes didn’t wander. Her smile was still only his. And even when she was mad, her heart didn’t move.

Still, his voice came out hoarse. “I hate the way he looks at you.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Then remind me who I belong to.”

He didn’t need another invitation.

Wooyoung didn’t say anything for a second.

His eyes were locked on hers, stormy and unreadable. The music thumped low in the background, and every breath between them felt thick - like the air had to squeeze through the heat building in the room.

“You want me to remind you?” he said slowly, voice deeper now, lower.

Y/N didn’t back away. “I want you to stop acting like I’m going to run the second someone looks at me.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s everyone else I don’t trust.”

She raised a brow. “So what? Every time I talk to a guy, this is how it’s gonna be? You barge into the studio, glare at him like he committed a crime, and then throw shade because he touched my hair?”

He moved before she finished the sentence.

Not harsh. Not angry. Just urgent. Needy.

Wooyoung closed the space between them in a second, hand sliding around her waist, the other coming up to cup the side of her neck. His forehead touched hers.

“You don’t get it,” he breathed.

“Then help me understand,” she whispered back, chest rising and falling.

“I’ve waited for someone like you for years, Y/N,” he said, voice cracking just slightly. “And now that I have you, every time I see someone else trying to get close, it’s like… it’s like I can’t breathe.”

Her hands moved up to his hoodie, fingers curling in the fabric. “I don’t want anyone else to get close.”

“But they do, don’t they?” His voice dropped again. “He was standing close enough to you earlier that I couldn’t tell where you ended and he started.”

Y/N’s heart thudded hard, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she reached up and ran a hand through his hair - the same way Minjae had brushed hers. Soft. Close.

“You think I’d let anyone near me like this if I didn’t feel safe?” she said.

Wooyoung closed his eyes for a moment. Her touch melted something in him.

“Then why do I feel like I’m constantly competing for something that’s already mine?”

She pulled him even closer. “Because you’re scared. Just like me.”

His eyes opened. Dark, sharp, vulnerable.

“I’m not scared of you leaving,” he said.

She looked up at him. “Then what?”

“I’m scared of losing myself in you,” he admitted. “Because when I see you laugh like that, or when you walk past me with your hair tied back and your skin glowing from practice… I forget everything else.”

Y/N blinked. That was the kind of confession no one expected from a guy like him. Not on stage, not off stage. But that was what made it real.

“You already lost yourself in me, Wooyoung,” she said softly. “And I’m right there with you.”

His lips parted slightly.

She took a step back, slow and teasing, fingers slipping from his hoodie. “If you really want to remind me who I belong to…”

She nodded toward the mirror. Toward the floor. Toward the studio.

“Then show me.”

His smirk came back - slow, crooked, dangerous.

“You want me to dance it out?” he asked.

Y/N grinned. “I want you to fight for me.”

He didn’t hesitate.

The song changed. He walked to the speaker, tapped through the playlist, and picked something darker. A sharp beat. Closer to the kind of song they both trained with - something that made the air feel electric.

And then: he turned around and moved.

Each step was precise. Confident. Fluid like water but dangerous like fire.

Y/N watched - mesmerized - as Wooyoung poured his feelings into every hit, every body roll, every snap of his head. He danced like she was the only one watching. Like the jealousy, the tension, the claiming was all being told with movement.

And then he reached for her hand.

“Come here,” he said.

She stepped forward, matching his rhythm instantly. It wasn’t choreographed - but it was instinct. Their bodies remembered each other. The push, the pull, the unspoken language between them.

His hand slid around her waist. She turned into him, chest to chest. They danced like tension - fast and close, almost too close. When she spun out, his hand caught hers, pulling her right back.

At one point, he backed her up slowly toward the mirror. Her spine hit the glass.

His palm rested flat next to her head.

“Still feel like talking about Minjae?” he whispered, eyes burning.

She smirked. “Minjae who?”

He chuckled - low and breathy. And then he kissed her.

Not sweet. Not careful. Possessive. The kind of kiss that said I see you, I know you, you’re mine.

When they finally pulled apart, he pressed his forehead to hers again.

“You’re not allowed to laugh like that around other guys anymore,” he said.

“And you’re not allowed to ignore me for ten minutes when you’re jealous,” she shot back.

“Deal,” he muttered. “Now come here.”

His lips ghosted against hers again, softer this time. Less anger, more want. The kind of want that lingered even when the fight was over - slow, magnetic, impossible to ignore.

Y/N breathed in against his mouth. “So this is what jealousy tastes like?”

He smirked. “No. This is what you taste like.”

His fingers slid down her arms - deliberately slow - until they found her hips. His thumbs pressed into her waist, firm but never forceful, like he was grounding himself there.

Her hands settled on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the black hoodie. “You know we’re in a studio, right? With glass windows.”

“Let them watch,” he muttered, leaning down again. “I’m not hiding how much I want you anymore.”

His lips brushed her jawline, trailing lower. Not rushed - deliberate. The kind of touch that spoke louder than anything he said earlier. His hands moved behind her, sliding under her oversized practice tee just enough to rest against the warm skin of her lower back.

Y/N inhaled sharply. “Wooyoung—”

“You’re mine,” he whispered against her neck. “And if someone forgets that… I’ll remind them.”

Her breath hitched, pulse wild. She tilted her head just enough to whisper near his ear, “Then do it properly.”

That snapped something in him.

He turned her gently - but firmly - pressing her back against the mirror once more. His hands braced on either side of her head as he leaned in, nose brushing hers.

“You always challenge me like this,” he said, breath hot, lips barely touching.

“Only because I know you can handle it,” she said, voice steady.

He smiled. “You’re dangerous.”

“And you’re obsessed,” she whispered.

He kissed her again - slower this time. With more depth, more emotion. Less fire, more want. The kind of kiss that didn’t just claim - it promised.

By the time they finally pulled apart, their foreheads were pressed together again, their breaths tangled like threads.

“Come back with me,” he said suddenly.

She blinked. “To your dorm?”

“No,” he said. “To mine. My room.”

She raised a brow. “You serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said. “I’ll order ramen. You’ll steal my hoodie. We’ll lie on the couch, and you’ll tell me about every scene that plays in your head when you smile at nothing.”

Y/N bit her lip, touched. “You want the soft version of me after all that?”

Wooyoung smiled - and this time, it wasn’t cocky or jealous or teasing.

It was warm. Real.

“I want every version of you.”

⸻

Later That Night…

She curled up next to him on the couch, in his hoodie — exactly like he said. Her makeup was wiped off. Her hair was down. No mirrors, no tension, no stage. Just her. Just him.

He pulled the blanket over them, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

“You’re so much more than I deserve,” he whispered.

She looked up at him. “You’re exactly what I needed.”

Silence fell. The good kind. The kind that felt like peace.

“I’ll fight the whole staff team if I have to,” he said suddenly.

She laughed, hitting his chest. “You idiot.”

His arms tightened around her. “But I’d still let them do your hair. As long as I get to do this.”

He kissed her temple. Her jaw. Her nose. And finally, her lips.

This time, it wasn’t fire.

It was home.

[shanesevikasfuckdoll]

Jealous!SheriffGrayson 🎀🎀🎀

Grayson is jealous, and you find ways to make it up to her. 👮🏽‍♀️

Warning: Angst with comfort, Smut, Marcus 🤢, Sad Grayson, Cunnilingus, Over stimulation, Strap use, Switch!Grayson, Switch!reader, Not proofread

🚫Men and Minors DNI🚫

You and Grayson finally established a relationship after only 3 months of dating. She's at the age where she doesn't need much courting, but she'll gladly court you for as long as you want. But you don't make her wait too long before you finally said yes, and with that, she's yours, and you're hers.

Your relationship remains professional, and a secret during work to keep people from gossiping, and to keep her from losing her position. Only you, and some close friends know about your relationship, but your friends at work? You don't tell them. After a few of your colleagues gave you flirty comments, and shitty attempts to ask you out, because they thing you easy, she's suddenly thinking she isn't planning on keeping you secret for long, already planning a proposal to you, so you can get married, and people know you're hers.

She trusts you with all her heart. She's not even easily jealous, but the flirting has been getting too much for her. At first, she'd just scold them for being 'distracted' during work hours. Which was admittedly hypocritical of her, since she too was distracted because of you. Everytime she sees Marcus get a little too close to you, since he thinks you finally lose your crush on Grayson, he's been flirting with you tenfold now.

Grayson does not like this, one bit. The way Marcus' eyes linger on you for far too long. The way he winks at you, everytime you make eye contact with him, it makes her cringe, and pisses her off. "Marcus, in my office. Now." She demands. Often times she'd scold him of being distracted. Or make him take a walk outside. Or make him have his shifts when you finally get your break. But of course, she can't be too mad at him. He did have the right to ask you for lunch, but he doesn't have the right to outright flirt, and touch you.

You try your best to ignore him, he can't take no for an answer. You of course, reassure Grayson, when he does step out of line, and you can't do anything about it. He already tried breaking you once, and you don't want him to find out that you and Grayson are finally together, he might pull some shit.

You and Grayson both sigh in bed, to figure out what you're gonna do with it. Grayson can't just arrest him, or make him transfer somewhere else. She's quiet all night, looking at the ceiling. You pull her closer to you, as you sit up to look at her. "Are you alright, dear? You seem awfully quiet tonight." You saying, taking her hand, and giving it kisses from her knuckles, to her shoulders. She gives you a soft smile, for it to fall again, and she looks down. "My love... If you weren't with me, would you date Marcus?" She asked, her voice breaking. That question shook you. Grayson is an amazing woman, far greater than any man, or woman that courted you. You cup her cheek, your thumb rubbing the flesh under her eye, and make her look at you. She looked like she was about to cry.

"My love, what kind of question is that? That's ridiculous. There is no other person I'd want to be with. No one. Only you. You're far greater than any of them, you're speaking nonsense" You hush her, and wipe her tears away, as you comfort you wife from her thoughts that seemed to have consumed her. "You don't understand. Do you know how hard it is to see someone else look at you the way only I could? I'm sorry, dove, it's just, he's much younger than me. Don't you wanna be with someone your own age?" She asks with tears in her eyes.

The sight of her like this breaks you. Who knew the perfect woman in your eyes thought of herself like that. Like she was the one out of your league. You didn't know that all this time, that she had her own fears. She has her own insecurities. You look at her with tears in your eyes, and you pull her head onto your chest, and pull her in for a tight hug.

You're both crying messes now. She isn't supposed to feel this way, she isn't supposed to feel like there's someone else, other than her.

No. You're not going to make her feel like this for long. You're going to make this up to her. You sniffle and you pull away from Grayson a little bit. You give her a soft smile, as you look into her eyes. "No, Gray. You're perfect. And you wanna know the best part? You're mine. And I'm all yours. No one in this world makes me feel like you do. No one. You'll all I want, Grayson. And I'm going to prove it." You say. You wipe her tears, and kiss her face. You get off her lap, and you get into the blanket. This action surprised her, and confused her a little, until she finally got a grasp of what you were doing.

"I'm going to make you feel like the best woman in the world, my love." You say, as you go down on her. You take her boxers off, and you spread her legs. She lets out low and breathy moans, as you take a long stripe of her cunt. You can feel her shiver, and she let's out a whimper. "Oh, my love, I love you so much" She says to you, combing your hair with her hand, as she takes control of the pace.

you stick your tongue out, and let her fuck herself with your tongue, she throws her head back, and you smile while licking, and sucking on her clit, her moans getting louder and deeper, her breath getting faster and faster, "Right there love, I'm close" She says, pumping your head up and down, as she gets closer to her climax. Your tongue keeps working on your wife, and you can feel her tense up.

"F-fuck, I'm almost gonna—" Her grip on your hair got tighter, as her grinds on your tongue, getting slower, she let put a breathy moan, and it sounded like music to your ears, She had tears in her eyes, and you kept your tongue on her, going slow. At this point she was feeling a little over stimulated, as you keep licking her core, she's panting her breath, her face tuning a shade of red from the pressure, and thee silkiness of your tongue. She attempts to pull away, the feeling getting a bit too much, but you look at her, and grab her waist, and start licker her faster again.

Her face scrunched, mouth wide open, her eyes closing, she feels close again. Kept eating her out, as she attempts to pull back, you pull her back in, she's grinding and grinding, your face now soaked in her juices, her body rocked, as she came in your mouth, her body was shaking, her eyes shut, and she threw her head back.

You licked her clean, and she was still a little shakey. You were about to grab a towel, when she pulled you back, and pulled you into a deep kiss, Her hands on your waist, and yours on her shoulder, as you pull on her hair slightly. She puller your shirt off, and she took off hers, as she started sucking, and playing with your tits. You moaned, and pulled her closer to your chest, as she moves her hands on your ass, and flipped you over. "Hmm, Sheriff~" You moan, and she gets back up to suck and nibble on your ear. "Hmm, you're mine?" she asks. You could feel the vibrations of her voice, as she leans in, and sucks on your neck. You whimper by that action, she knows where your sweet spots are, and she isn't afraid to explore them all. "A-all yours, baby. All y-ours!! You say as you whine.

She stood up to put on her harness, and she stands there with a purple 8inch cock. She snickers, and makes her way to you. "God princess, you make me feel young again, you know that?" She teases in your ear, and you smile at her. Your smile immedietly turned into an 'O' face, as she fills you up with her dick, and she slowly thrusts inside you. She's looking at you with a satisfied look in her eye, as she bites her lip. She puts her mouth on yours, as her tongue makes her way into your mouth. You suck on her tongue, as you moan, and your eyes struggle to stay open. She smiles through the kiss, and sher thrusts are getting faster and harder.

You feel a knot in your stomach, that's when you know you feel close. Your wails getting louder as you moan her name. She's pounding you so deep, you're taking all of her in at once. Your body feeling tense, you whip your head back, your face full of bliss, as she pounds and pounds into you, her small moans, turning you on even more. You pull her into your chest, as you feel a surge of pleasure, and ecstacy run through you, your body convulsing, your body hunching over, as you wail through your orgasm.

Only she can make you feel this way. You lose your mind, she fuck you so good. You pull her into a passionate kiss, your body feels calmer now, your breath still hitching, you pull away to catch your breath. She thrusts a little more in you, before she pulls out, and collapses on top of you.

You both catch your breath. You held her closer to your chest with one hand, and played with her hair on the other. You kiss her hair, and you smile at her. "I love you, Grayson." you tell the older woman. She looked up at you, and smiled. "I love you too, my love."

You both talked things through on what to do with Marcus, and within a couple months, she proposed to you. You make your relationship public now, and Marcus backs off, since now, you are engaged to your one true love. Of course you still have to act professional at work, but you keep a picture frame of the both of you on your desk. Now when someone tries and flirt with you, you just show them your ring, and go to your fiancé.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

This one's a roller coaster, huh? Fluff, angst, and smut, heh. Next fic about Grayson, I kinda wanna write some Domestic!Grayson a little more. Or some Jealous!Sevika with smut hehe. what do you think?

Also, here was the comment that requested this heh, hope it's to your liking! @fuzzyautumninmetal

[orellazalonia]

A Little Mess Won’t Hurt

Pairing: Stucky x little!reader [Disclaimer: Age Regression!]

Summary: Despite your love for the arts, you’ve always been hesitant to use your paint kits, watercolors, or anything that could make a mess. Your caregivers notice and help you try finger painting for the first time.

Word Count: 1.9k+

A/N: This is purely a self-indulgent kind of fic. More on the fluffier side, hopefully.

Main Masterlist

You sit quietly on the couch, legs crossed beneath you, as you watch Steve work on his sketchbook. The pencil moves fluidly across the page, creating beautiful shapes, faces, and scenes. You’re mesmerized by how easily his hand moves, as if the paper were an extension of himself. His concentration makes him look so calm, so relaxed, and you wish you could do that too. Create something beautiful.

You reach over and grab your coloring book, your favorite one with intricate patterns of flowers and animals, and open it to the next unfinished page. You’ve always loved coloring, the neat lines and precise strokes, careful to stay inside the borders. But when you think about what Steve is doing and what Bucky sometimes does when he’s working with paints and clay, it makes your chest feel tight. You’ve never touched the paint kits or watercolor sets that Steve bought for you. It always feels like a line you’re afraid to cross.

Your fingers itch to try it. You know it’s fun. You’ve seen Bucky with his hands covered in clay and Steve covered in paint, laughing and smiling, their faces bright with joy. But the mess… the mess always brings memories you don’t like. The sharp words. The scolding. The fear of ruining something precious.

"Hey, kiddo, you done with your drawing?" Steve’s voice cuts through your thoughts. You blink, looking up at him. He’s watching you with soft eyes, a half-smile on his face. "You’re awfully quiet today."

You fidget with your coloring book, picking at the edges. "I’m just… coloring," You mumble, offering him a small smile.

Steve notices the way your gaze flicks back to his sketchbook, your eyes lingering on his pencil as it moves. He sets his book aside gently and leans closer, his voice tender but curious.

"You know," He starts, "I’ve got a new sketchbook in the other room. But it’s not the only way to make art."

Your heart skips a beat. You’ve heard them talk about painting before. About how messy it gets and how much fun it is. They thought you would like it. Bucky has even shown you his pottery and tried to convince you to join him in the studio once, but you always hesitated. The idea of making a mess, of getting dirty? It just felt wrong.

"I—" You pause, unsure how to explain. You tug at the hem of your shirt, a nervous habit. "I like… watching. But I don’t know if I could… do it."

Steve’s eyes soften as he tilts his head. "Do what, sweetheart?"

"Make a mess," You murmur, almost embarrassed.

The room falls into a quiet moment, Steve’s gaze turning understanding. He’s seen the way you’ve avoided the paints, the watercolors, the clay. He knows how much you love the idea of creating, anything to do with art. He can see it in your eyes every time you sit with your coloring book, every time you watch him draw. But he also knows there’s something holding you back. Something deeply rooted.

"You don’t have to be afraid of making a mess with us," Steve says gently. "You’re safe here. We’re not going to scold you for it. You don’t have to be perfect."

You glance up at him, your cheeks flushing. The words feel foreign, like they shouldn’t be said to you. But… they are. And the warmth in Steve’s voice makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could try.

"You sure?" You whisper.

Bucky, who has been quietly listening from the armchair, smiles softly and walks over to where you’re sitting. He crouches down to your level, his expression warm and inviting.

"I’ll even help you clean up after," He promises. "We can have a little messy play time, just the three of us. No judgment, no worries. Just fun."

Your heart flutters in your chest. The idea of it sounds fun. So much fun, in fact, that you can feel your fingers twitch with excitement. But the fear still clings to you. You don’t want to disappoint them too. You don’t want to make a mess at all.

Steve catches the look in your eyes and gives you a soft smile. "It’s okay if you don’t want to yet," He reassures calmly, "But I think you’ll enjoy it. Sometimes, making a little mess is how we make the best memories."

Bucky holds out his hand, "What do you say, kiddo? Wanna try it with us? You can start small. Just dip your fingers in a little bit of paint. We’ll take it slow."

You hesitate. Your fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt as you think, battling with the urge to try something new and the fear of failure. But then Steve places a gentle hand on your shoulder, the warmth of his touch calming you. "No pressure. If you don’t like it, we can always stop. But if you want to, we can make something really special."

You glance at Bucky, who’s still waiting patiently. He doesn’t look rushed or frustrated. He’s simply… waiting for you to decide. To trust them and that’s the push you need.

Taking a deep breath, you nod, just a little.

"I’ll try," Your voice barely audible.

Bucky’s smile grows, and he gently takes your hand, as he brings you to the dining table. Steve grabs some of the finger painting supplies and sets them down near you. The tray of paints now sits before you with a blank sheet of paper. The colors are so bright, so inviting, and for the first time, you feel a small wave of excitement wash over you. You slowly reach over, still hesitant but brave. Bucky’s voice remains light and reassuring.

"That’s it. Now, just a little dab," He encourages.

You dip your fingers into the paint, the cool sensation making your breath catch in your throat. And then, with a deep breath, you press your fingers to the paper.

It’s messy. It’s a little wild. But it’s also… freeing.

Steve watches you with pride, his gaze soft as you begin to explore the colors with more confidence. Bucky’s chuckles ring in the air as he joins you on another page, painting alongside you. The mess doesn’t seem so bad now. In fact, it’s kind of fun. And with Steve and Bucky by your side, it’s safe. There’s no judgment, no scolding. Just a loving space where you can make something beautiful, even if it’s a little messy.

The paint feels warmer now, smoother against your fingertips as you move your hand across the page. You make a bold swirl of yellow and green, your face lighting up with a quiet smile as you experiment with the colors. It’s not perfect, but that’s the best part. The colors bleed into one another in playful patterns, as if the paper itself is dancing with you.

Bucky glances, grinning as you explore. "That’s it, kiddo. Let it flow," He says, his voice filled with encouragement. He’s got a bit of red paint smeared on his cheek from his own work, but he doesn’t mind. "No rules. Just fun."

You glance at him, then at Steve, who’s already made a few broad strokes on his paper with a brush. The whole room feels lighter, almost fizzing with energy as the three of you work in a little creative chaos together.

Steve watches you with a fond smile, leaning in to dip his own brush into a deep purple. "There you go," He adds. "Look at that swirl. Looks like a rainbow already."

You tilt your head and glance at your page, and sure enough, the yellow and green you've painted already do look like the beginnings of a rainbow, the colors blending like the hues of a sunset.

The idea of a perfect painting slowly fades from your mind, and you start adding more colors, simply having fun with it. Maybe blue here, a touch of red there. Bucky and Steve occasionally encourage you, their voices soft but full of praise. The weight of your old anxieties begins to melt away. They never push you to do anything more than you’re ready for, and you find yourself taking more risks, adding blobs of color that you wouldn’t have dared to make a few minutes ago.

The first few smudges on your fingers did feel odd at first, but then you realize they aren’t that bad. You laugh when a bit of orange accidentally splatters onto the side of your cheek. Bucky chuckles too, and reaches over with a napkin to wipe it away. "Guess you’re really getting into it now."

You can’t help but laugh back, the sound light and airy, filling the room with the pure joy of finally letting go.

It’s so much fun—more than you thought it could be. You notice that the fear you had about messing up seems so small now. There’s a comforting warmth in knowing that Steve and Bucky are right there with you, sharing in the mess, the fun, and the art. No one’s looking to judge or critique, just to enjoy the moment together.

The hours pass quickly, the three of you laughing and creating. Before you know it, your page is a beautiful, colorful mess. It’s nothing like the neat, careful drawings you used to make. Instead, it’s a chaotic explosion of colors, shapes, and patterns that make your heart flutter. You didn’t have to hold back. You didn’t have to be perfect. And that’s exactly what made it perfect.

"Look at you," Steve’s voice is full of pride as he leans in to admire your work. "I think we’ve got ourselves an artist in the making."

Bucky grins, nudging you lightly with his shoulder; his tone full of love and approval. "You’ve got a real eye for this, you know."

You smile, a warm, contented feeling filling your chest. Your hands are a little sticky with paint, and your shirt has a few splatters too, but you don’t mind. You look over at Bucky and Steve, seeing their faces beaming with pride. You realize that it wasn’t just about making art. It was about trusting them enough to let go, to not be afraid of what could happen if things got messy.

As you finish the last few touches on your page, you feel a sense of accomplishment. Your masterpiece isn’t about following the rules or being perfect. It’s a reflection of you: creative, brave, and free.

Steve and Bucky glance over at each other and share a look, one of shared pride and understanding. They’re proud of you for stepping out of your comfort zone, for trusting them, and for making something beautiful in the process.

When the paintings are finally dry, Steve gathers them up carefully. "We’ll hang these on the fridge," He smiles when your face lights up. "We’ll put yours right at the top, where everyone can see."

Bucky nods, pulling you into a soft, affectionate hug. "You did so good, sweetheart. You made a mess, and you made art. That’s what it’s all about."

You snuggle into his arms, still grinning from ear to ear. It feels good. It feels right.

And for the first time, you don’t worry about what happens if things get a little messy. Because, in this moment, you realize that a little mess is part of the magic. Part of the fun. And no matter what mess happens, you’re safe enough to make it with the people who love you.

[luimagines]

Maybe a scenario where the chain is female hero's Era and they meet her era's link which is her little brother of like 6 and she confesses that the quest was actually for him.

LITTLE LINK!?!!?!?!? MY LOVE, MY LIFE, MY SON!?!? ABSOLUTELY!!!! XD

Everybody get ready for more Lucky. I will never have enough of this boy. ^.^*

Side note: Reader is written as Gender Neutral per the rules of the blog, but this isn't really about them anyway. :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"Just a little closer." You say under your breath as you push aside the surrounding foliage. You step into a well beaten path. there's roots sticking out of it and the dirt is bare and dry, but you know that it's safe to travel along and that it'll take you straight to your destination.

"We've been walking for hours." Legend groans. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost." You hold the branch open for the others to pass through.

"This Link of yours must be a pain in neck to get to if his lives this far out into the middle of nowhere." Hyrule spits out a leaf.

You snort, keeping it vague for the sake of keeping him safe. They'll know the truth soon enough and frankly, you're scared to see the aftermath. "It's just up the path."

"Finally!"

"Come on! Let's go!" Wind cheers and takes off running, following swiftly by Wild, Wolfie and Four.

You try to keep a leisurely pace, knowing you're going to need all the energy you can reserve for when you arrive. You want to run just as much as the others, but you know better.

Time seems to have caught on and gently smacks your shoulder. "You never said how you happened to meet him."

"I didn't?" You smile, playing it coy. "Strange."

"This is it?" Four asks with a skeptical look.

Just beyond the hill is a run down cottage. There's holes in the roof and the fence is broken in many areas. The forest and meadows around it are about to over take the small house and return the woods of its skeleton back to where they came from.

You try to hold back a bitter smile and the way your heart swells at the familiar sight. You pat Four on the shoulder and keep walking towards the cottage. Putting your fingers to your mouth, you let out a shrill whistle and keep walking.

A beat passes, setting the young men behind you on edge before the door of the cottage all but bursts open. You can feel some of the boys reach for their weapons but they hesitate when you start hollering in excitement.

Your calls are answered back by a small body that comes running out of the cottage at full speed. It comes out like a shot and b-lines for you with the intent to tackle. You catch the familiar mop of blond hair and laugh, peppering the small boy with kisses and tickles.

The group behind you is stunned.

"Bubbah! You're home! You're home!" The child cries.

You smile, getting a little teary as you hold the child closer. "I get to stay for a little bit this time before I travel again. I wanted you to meet some friends of mine. They've been very excited to meet you."

The little boy looks over your shoulder and gasp, a bright grin covering his face. "New people! Hello! Welcome to my house!"

You set him down with a proud smile as he runs to the Chain. He stops in front of them, holding his hand out like the polite gentleman he's growing up to be. "My name is Link, what's yours?"

Twilight bites the bullet and kneels to his level, shaking his hand. "Why- My name is Link too! It's great to meet you!"

You sighs and look back to the house. Your grandmother must still be inside. Age has not been kind to her.

The introductions are going on behind as your brother gets more and more amused that they all share the same name. He laughs, bright and joyfully and still the child you've fought so hard to keep. "No wonder you wanted to meet me too!"

"Yeah.... That's why." Legend clenches his jaw in a tight smile. He catches it quickly, the mark of the Triforce of Courage already on his little hand. Legend points to his hand to show that he has the same mark. "You have that too?"

Link, your brother, nods and proudly shows it off. "Bubbah says it's because I'm special. They had to leave home after it showed up though. They saved me from the monsters and told me to take care of grandma."

"Then I'm sure you're doing an incredible job." Time says gently. "That mark is special. I'm sure your grandma is very proud."

Warrior makes it a point to step aside, roughly grabbing your arm as he speaks in a hushed voice. "What is the meaning of this?"

"This is my home." You try to keep the growl out of your voice. "Link is my brother."

"Tell me you're joking."

"I wouldn't be the one traveling with you if I was."

"Bubbah!" Link calls for your attention. "Can they stay for dinner?!"

You slap a grin onto your face and wave back to him. "That was the plan, short stack! You mind going to tell grandma we have company?"

"Oh yeah!" He grins and runs back to the house right as your grandmother has reached the door. She sees you and sighs of relief that you've returned safe and sound.

You wave from where you are and blow her a kiss. You try not to look at the other boys around you.

You can feel them staring holes into you head as it is.

This is going to be a long story.