#i always feel like his ice powers deserve more love

[escelia]

I just had an awesome mental image and I needed to share it with everyone!

Imagine Danny learning to use his powers like Ice Make magic from Fairy Tail.

That's it, that's the prompt.

Trapping ghosts and human criminals in cages made of ice only he can melt. A sword made of ice at his hip. Creating tools he needs from ice and then casually chilling his drink while he works. Making little chew toys for Cujo.

Imagine him in Gotham, herding the criminals of the night like sheep with glassy walls and icy cages straight to the city's heroes. And the vigilantes can't figure out how it keeps happening because they never see their mysterious helper, and the ice is always gone by the time they investigate.

[itneverendshere]

ex!reader who loves the game and wants to support her team but hockey captain!rafe is on the ice. he thinks she’s there for him but when she comes in with a date? and when they get put on the kiss cam? rafe slams into the glass to scare them? hate sex????

someone who lets you break them twice - hockey!toxic!rafe x ex!reader (+18)

warnings: veryyy long and 99% smut🙂‍↕️ the things i do for you...

The cold air inside the rink always made your skin tingle. Your breath curled in front of you like smoke as you moved uncomfortably on the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you. This is why you hated fall. It was too cold to be outside, too early to be winter. But tonight wasn’t about the weather—it was about hockey.

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

“Everything okay?” The voice beside you pulled you back to reality.

Elijah, the guy you’d been seeing for the past couple of weeks, smiled at you, oblivious to the bullshit taking over your mind, and you gave him your best smile back.

“Yeah, just cold,” you said, trying to focus. You weren’t here for Rafe, not anymore. You loved hockey. You loved watching the boys skate across the ice, their power and grace.

Or at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Elijah wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and you leaned in, feeling his warmth. The game was just about to start, and the arena lights dimmed slightly, casting shadows over the rink. The roar of the crowd drowned your thoughts for a moment as the players took the ice.

And then, as if the universe was personally trying to screw with you, you saw him.

Rafe.

Of course, he looked good.

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him. 

He always had to be in charge, on and off the ice.

He still had that same cocky swagger that made you wanna scream… for entirely different reasons now.

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey. 

His number. The one you’d always worn to support him when you were together. Out of all the team merch you owned, of course you had to wear his.

“You really like hockey a lot, huh?” Elijah asked, glancing down at your jersey.

“Yeah,” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been following the team for a while.”

Lies. You loved hockey, sure. But you loved Rafe a little more. Or, you used to. Or, well, maybe that was still complicated.

The puck dropped, and the game started. For a while, you tried to focus on the action. Rafe was all over the ice, playing like the goddamn superstar he thought he was. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze kept darting up toward the stands, like he knew you were there. And maybe he did

Halfway through the second period, he slammed into an opposing player, sending him crashing into the boards. The sound echoed through the arena, and the crowd went wild, but you could feel your stomach knotting up. That had always been Rafe—intense, aggressive, unable to hold back. On the ice or off.

You tried to focus on Elijah, laughing at something he was saying, but your heart wasn’t in it. And then, just when you thought you’d survived the worst of it, the kiss cam flashed up on the big screen. Your laughter died in your throat as you realized what was happening, your face heating up instantly. You weren’t exactly embarrassed, but this was... awkward. 

“Aw, how cute,” He said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

You could see him coming toward you, could see his lips getting closer, but all you could think about was—

Bang!

In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

He looked like he was ready to tear Elijah apart, or you, or both of you. His chest was heaving, eyes blazing, standing mere inches away from where you sat. He had skated right into the glass.

Your heart was practically in your throat, and it wasn't from Elijah being close. The look on Rafe’s face as he stood on the other side of the glass?

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his. 

And you hated that you still kind of liked it.

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Those stupid words. Silently mouthed, but somehow loud enough to hit you like a punch through the glass. I dare you. God, what was wrong with him? He knew exactly how to push your buttons. And of course, it was working. He wasn’t just playing hockey—he was playing with you.

You could feel Elijah shifting next to you, still oblivious to the whole freaking drama unfolding right in front of him.

He was so sweet, too sweet, and it was almost infuriating right now because Rafe was standing there, with his stupid intense eyes, all but daring you to move on. Why did he have to look at you like that—like he knew you were still his.

The breakup had been brutal, the kind of messy, loud explosion where neither of you were willing to be the first to walk away. You were both too stubborn, too prideful. And now here you were, months later, still dealing with the fallout. 

Elijah finally leaned in, lips brushing yours, and you kissed him, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could feel was Rafe’s stare burning into you. The kiss cam lingered for a few seconds, and the crowd cheered, but all you felt was... empty.

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

You glanced down, avoiding his gaze, and tugged at the hem of his old jersey, suddenly feeling like you didn’t belong in it anymore. You leaned into Elijah, mostly out of spite at this point. You could practically hear Rafe’s teeth grinding from across the glass. Good. If he thought he could just walk around, acting like he owned the place—and you—then he deserved to stew in it a little.

But, of course, he wasn’t the kind of guy to just let something like that go. You watched as he skated back into play, but his eyes kept flicking up to where you sat, like he couldn’t stop checking to make sure you were still there. Still with Elijah. His shoulders were tense, movements a little too aggressive, like he was about to snap.

You tried to focus on the game again, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You hated this. You hated that he could still make you feel this way, even now, after everything.

After the fights, after the breakup, after swearing you were over him. Why was it so hard to let him go?

The third period started, and Rafe was everywhere, throwing his weight around like he had something to prove. And maybe he did. Every hit was harder, every pass sharper. It was like he was playing angry. And you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

But then, with less than five minutes left in the game, things escalated. He slammed into one of the opposing players so hard that the guy went down, and the whistle blew immediately. The crowd was roaring, but Rafe didn’t back off. He stood over the guy, glaring down at him like he was ready to throw a punch.

"Jesus," Elijah muttered beside you. "What the hell’s his problem?"

You didn’t answer. You knew exactly what his problem was.

The ref skated over, shouting something at Rafe, but his eyes weren’t on the ref. They were still on you, even as the other guy on the ice slowly got back to his feet. The arena was buzzing, the crowd getting rowdy, and for a second, you thought Rafe was going to lose it right there. His fists clenched, jaw set—he looked like he was ready to drop gloves and start swinging.

And then he smirked.

It was that same cocky smirk you knew so well, the one he always flashed right before doing something reckless. The ref sent him to the penalty box, and he skated off, still with that fucking look plastered on his face. Your heart was racing, your body tense. Elijah had leaned back in his seat, totally unaware about everything.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Elijah said, shaking his head, eyes still on the ice.

You didn’t answer. Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rafe was sitting in the penalty box now, helmet off, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t just about murder a guy on the ice. You could feel his eyes on you, even from all the way across the rink. You hated it. You hated that he could still get to you like this.

The last few minutes of the game passed in an instant. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, not to the score, not to the plays. You were too busy trying not to think about Rafe, about the way he had looked at you. About the way it had made you feel.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd erupted in cheers. Elijah stood up, stretching, turning to you with a smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you made your way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the tension building in your chest. It wasn’t over. It never really was with Rafe.

And you knew—somehow—you weren’t getting out of here without seeing him again.

You reached the bottom of the stands, where a crowd had gathered near the exit. Elijah was still chatting about the game, still clueless. But you were distracted, scanning the crowd without even realizing it.

And then you saw him. Of course, you did.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, still in his gear, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes locked on yours the second you stepped into his line of sight. He didn’t even pretend to care about the people around him—his gaze was dark, intense, like a predator waiting for its moment.

You hated how your heart skipped.

Elijah noticed you freeze and followed your gaze, his smile faltering when he saw Rafe standing there.

"Isn’t that the captain guy?" he asked, glancing between you and Rafe, confused.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving. “Yeah. That’s him.”

As you passed by, Rafe pushed off the wall, stepping right into your path. Elijah, sweet, unsuspecting Elijah, paused beside you.

"Leaving already?" Rafe’s voice was low, casual, but his eyes were locked on yours, ignoring Elijah completely. "Didn’t even stick around to congratulate the team?"

You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your cool. "It’s late, Rafe. We’re heading out."

But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. He took a step closer, his towering frame making Elijah shift uncomfortably. "You didn’t used to leave so soon," he said, voice dripping with that familiar cockiness. "Used to be the last one out."

Because you’d always let him fuck you in the locker room.

Elijah cleared his throat, trying to stand his ground. "Uh, yeah, we’ve got plans after this."

Rafe’s eyes flicked to him for the briefest second, before landing back on you.

"Plans, huh?"

Your pulse was hammering, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Why did he always have to do this—why couldn’t he just let you go?

“Rafe, we’re done,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to the last shred of your composure. “You don’t get to pull this shit anymore.”

He glanced at Elijah briefly, his gaze cold and dismissive, then back at you. “You sure about that?” he asked, “Because it doesn’t look like it.”

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to calm yourself. You didn’t need this right now. Not with Elijah here. Not after everything.

“Let’s go Elijah,” you said, tugging at Elijah’s arm, desperate to get out of there before things escalated. But Rafe wasn’t having it.

He stepped in front of you again, blocking your path like he had some kind of claim on you. And God, the worst part was—you weren’t sure he was wrong.

You glanced at Elijah, who was staring at the two of you like he had walked into the middle of a conversation he couldn’t quite follow. “Look, dude,” he started, awkwardly laughing, “I don’t know what this is, but—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off quickly, your voice tight. “Let’s just go.”

But Rafe wasn’t about to let it go. 

“Yeah, Elijah,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s nothing.” His eyes flicked to you, dark and daring, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with the same fire.

Elijah’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning.

“Shit,” he muttered, distracted. “I’ve gotta take this call real quick. Give me a sec?” He stepped away, leaving you and Rafe standing there in the middle of the hallway, your body practically vibrating.

He was on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker room door. 

“Rafe, what the fuck—” you hissed, but he wasn’t letting go.

You tried to resist, but something inside you broke down—the anger, the unresolved pull between you two. And maybe it was the way he still had that stupid hold on you, the way your body responded when you shouldn’t want it to.

Or maybe it was the fact that you’d never fully closed the door on Rafe.

He shoved the door open, pulling you inside the dimly lit hallway that led to the locker room. The second the door closed, you spun around, shoving him in the chest hard. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe barely flinched, his gaze smoldering as he crowded you against the wall. 

“Yeah? You didn’t seem to think so when you were wearing my jersey tonight.”

“That was an accident.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

Your heart was pounding, and not just because Rafe had you pinned against the wall like he always fucking did— God, why did he have to be so damn close? The scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the game, sending your mind spiraling. He was overwhelming, and you hated it. You hated him for still making you feel like this.

“Get off me,” you snapped, but it came out weaker than you intended. The way his blue eyes were boring into yours, like he could see through all your bullshit, wasn’t helping.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“C’mon, baby, don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted. You show up, wearin’ my number, sitting there with some random guy like I don’t still own you.” 

He stepped closer, caging you in completely. You pressed your hands against his chest, but it wasn’t like you were really pushing him away. And he knew it.

“You don’t own shit,” you spat, glaring up at him. But even as the words left your mouth, you knew you didn’t believe them. The truth was, part of you had always been his.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smug grin as if he could read every thought running through your head.

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standin’, you’ve been thinkin’ about me all night.” His breath was hot on your skin, and you hated how much you wanted to close the distance between you.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to muster the strength to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone, but he was right. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, he was still in your head, under your skin. The way his body hovered over yours—it was like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t spent the last few months trying to forget him.

His hand found your hip, fingers pressing into your skin through your jeans, and you felt your body betray you. You cursed yourself silently as heat pooled low in your stomach. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know how much power he still had. But damn it, he knew. He always fucking knew.

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

Your breath hitched, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Don’t—”

But he was already kissing you, hard and rough like he owned you, like you were his and his alone.

And the worst part? You kissed him back. His hands were on you, grabbing at your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You wanted to shove him away, to slap that stupid look off his face—but your body had other plans. 

This was so wrong, on so many levels. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Rafe didn’t back off. He was staring down at you like you were his next meal, like he’d been starving without you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you bit out, trying to cling to some sense of control.

Rafe’s grin widened, wicked and knowing. He leaned in again, lips ghosting over yours. “We both know that's a lie.”

You clenched your fists, frustrated beyond belief. Frustrated at him, at yourself, at how easy it was for him to pull you right back in.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the breathless tone in your voice told a different story.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly sexy way he always did.

“Oh, you will.”

And God help you—you knew he was right. That fucking arrogance. It crawled under your skin, set your blood on fire in ways it shouldn’t.

You wanted to punch him, shove him, do something to wipe that smug expression off his face. But instead, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back toward you, kissing him with all the fury you felt.

His lips crushed against yours, and it wasn’t gentle—there was nothing soft or sweet about this. It was all heat and frustration, months of unresolved anger bursting out in one chaotic, messy kiss.

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you yanked him down, kissing him like you needed to get all of this out of your system. His hands roamed your body, possessive, rough, and you hated how much you craved him, like you were still his.

You weren’t his. You couldn’t be.

But every heated breath you took, every desperate movement your body made, was telling you otherwise.

When his lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, you gasped, tilting your head back as your resolve crumbled to pieces. He knew exactly what to do, how to make you fall apart, and it pissed you off that he still had that power.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease, pressing you harder against the wall. Your breath hitched, the cold tile behind you making you gasp. His mouth was on you, hot and demanding, and for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered.

Not Elijah, not the fact that this was so damn wrong, not the months of hurt and anger you’d been holding onto.

There was only Rafe. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you like he was trying to stake his claim all over again. Like you hadn’t been apart at all.

"Tell me you don’t want this," Rafe muttered against your lips.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. You did want this. You hated that you did, but fuck, you couldn’t lie—not to him, not to yourself.

“I—” You choked on the words, eyes meeting his, and for a split second, you thought maybe you’d find some kind of resolve, some way to pull yourself back from him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head spinning as his hands explored your body like he had every right to. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to break free of him.

Rafe pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, breathless and flushed. “Yeah, baby. That's what I thought."

His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, you let out a frustrated, muffled groan, your fingers still tangled in his hair. It was a lot longer than the last time you’d seen him.

You could feel every inch of his muscle through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was suffocating in the best way, and you hated yourself for how much you wanted it.

How much you wanted him.

“You’re such an ass,” you gasped between kisses, your breath hitching when his mouth moved down to your neck. You felt him grin against your skin, the bastard.

“You say that like it’s supposed to stop you.” His voice was rough, low in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “But I don’t think it is.”

You were about to fire back, but his hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and whatever you were going to say was swallowed by the heat rushing through you. You hated that he still knew exactly how to get to you—how to pull you apart and leave you helpless against him.

“Rafe, this—” Your words were cut off when he bit down gently on your collarbone, sending a shockwave through your body. You clutched at his shirt.

“This what?” he taunted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes intense. “This a mistake? Because I don’t think that’s what your body’s saying.”

You just glared up at him, trying to catch your breath. You hated that he was right. Again.

Always.

“I told you,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. There was no denying it—you were here, and you weren’t leaving. Not yet.

Maybe not for a while.

And Rafe knew it.

His hands moved lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitched. This was dangerous territory. You knew that. 

“Last chance,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve shoved him away and walked out of there with what little dignity you had left. But instead, you kissed him again—harder this time, angrier, like you needed to prove something to yourself. And maybe you did.

He yanked your shirt over your head in one rough motion, and you weren’t gentle either, tugging at his jersey until it was off and tossed aside. His hands were everywhere—on your back, in your hair, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down with the same reckless urgency you’d been feeling since you laid eyes on him tonight.

“I hate you,” you whispered as your nails dragged down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

Your jeans hit the floor, and he wasted no time, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing you down on the bench, his body heavy against yours.

Everything was messy, and rushed, like neither of you could get enough. Like you were trying to erase the months of distance, of frustration, in the way you kissed him back, bit his lip, tugged at his hair.

 You hated how much you needed this. 

“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” Rafe rasped, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathless and wild.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow, you managed to gasp out, “Positive.”

Rafe’s mouth moved down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks you knew would still be there tomorrow. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

It was wrong, it was toxic, but fuck—there was something about the way he touched you. And body, traitorous and weak, responded like it always had.

You were furious with yourself, with him, with everything, but the anger only made it all hotter, more intense.

His fingers brushed against the seam of your panties, teasing, barely touching you, but doing enough to have you drenched. 

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost amused, slipping one finger under the fabric to run along your folds, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, "Was this all for Elijah?"

Sonofabitch.

“Stop talking,” you spat, but your voice was shaky, showing him the way you were falling apart under his touch. Rafe chuckled low in his throat, his finger moving back, this time slipping inside you, deep and slow.

You gasped, your head falling back as he began moving his finger, curling it inside you in just the right way. Your body responded immediately, hips jerking against him, desperate for more, but he took his time. He added another finger, stretching you out as his thumb rubbed slow circles over your clit, making your legs tremble beneath him.

He sped up, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go blank. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? All those nights pretending you don’t think about me, but look at you now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs shaking as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his fingers driving you closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you. “Tell me how bad you need this.”

“Rafe—” you gasped, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. The tension inside you was coiled so tightly, so close to snapping. You hated him, hated yourself, but the words slipped out anyway. “I need it.”

He groaned, pleased, and that was all it took. He thrust his fingers harder, faster, until your body gave in completely. You hadn’t had a proper orgasm in months. Nothing could get you off properly. Your walls clenched around his fingers the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin as you trembled beneath him, lost in the sensation.

But he didn’t stop. He slowed down just enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure, his fingers still moving inside you as you rode out the aftershocks. When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his fingers out, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He shoved his pants down, not bothering to take them off completely, just enough to free himself. Your breath hitched when you felt him against you—hard, hot, and ready—and every rational thought you had left disappeared in that moment. He lined himself up, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy.

Before you could respond, he pushed into you in one hard, deliberate thrust. Your gasp turned into a low, breathless moan as your back arched, your hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold on to. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you, was overwhelming, almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

Rafe didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless, gasping for air. 

There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you like he was trying to remind you who you belonged to.

And you hated how good it felt.

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your body was betraying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every night since we ended.”

You couldn’t.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but instead, a moan escaped your lips as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your body arched against his, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

“Fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, every nerve in your body on fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Rafe growled, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts making the bench creak beneath you.

The sound of the bench, the way his body pressed into yours so perfectly, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all made it impossible to think straight. You should have been disgusted with yourself for letting it get this far, for letting him have this kind of control over you. 

“I fucking hate you,” you managed to gasp out between breaths.

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah? Then why do you sound like that, huh?” His voice was taunting, filled with the arrogance you hated, “This pussy still mine, huh?”

You loved the way he grabbed you like you were his, even though you’d sworn, sworn, you were done with him.

You were still in love, weren’t you? Even after all the shit, all the screaming matches, the nights spent crying because of him. That was the part that pissed you off the most.

Before you knew, his hands were flipping you over so fast your knees hit the bench before you could react.

“Rafe—mmh,” you gasped, but your words died in your throat when he shoved you forward, pressing your chest flat against the cold wood of the bench. You barely had a second to brace yourself before his hands were gripping your ass, spreading you open for him.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He was already dragging the head of his cock through your wetness, teasing, knowing how much you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t say it.

You squirmed, hating how desperate you felt, hating how your body responded to him like this. “Fuck, Rafe, stop teasing—”

“You want more?” he cut you off, voice dark and dripping with arrogance. He slapped your ass, just enough to sting, and you yelped, your back arching instinctively. “You’re gonna have to beg for it.”

"Like hell," you spat back.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth right by your ear.

 “You can act tough all you want, but I know how much you want this,” he gritted out, his cock sliding against your folds again, torturously slow. “I know how much you need it.”

Before you could snap back, he thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, hands gripping the edges of the bench, and Rafe didn’t even give you a second to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, faster this time, deeper.

The angle had you seeing stars. The bench was narrow, forcing your legs closer together, making everything tighter, more intense. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, hips moving back to meet his thrusts even though your mind was screaming at you to get a grip.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned, his voice low and rough as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your legs tremble. “So fucking tight for me.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you on the edge in seconds. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat, your hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure built, higher and higher until you felt like you might break apart.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasped, his voice thick with lust. “I can feel it. Fuck.”

You tried to hold on, tried to keep some control, but it was useless. He knew exactly how to break you.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whimper as you felt the pleasure rising fast, threatening to consume you.

“Do it,” Rafe growled, his fingers rubbing harder, faster. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision blurred, your body shaking as the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your walls clenching around him, and Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, relentless, brutal, until your entire body was trembling.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

He pounded into you, his grip on your ass bruising, and you clung to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the lockers. The sound of metal creaking under the force of his thrusts only made it hotter, more desperate. You could feel another orgasm building, and you hated him for it—hated how easily he could pull them from you. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

And you hated that some twisted part of you wanted it to be true.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

And God, you couldn’t.

His grip on your ass was rough, bruising, but it only made you moan louder. You were on the verge again—your body still tingling from the last orgasm, but the way he moved inside you, the way his teeth grazed your neck, it had you spiraling toward another one, faster than you thought possible.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, a wild look on his face that sent a thrill down your spine. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you?”

You did. Because no matter how much you hated him, how much you wanted to hate him—there was a part of you that still belonged to him. A part of you that couldn’t walk away.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw—and you couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your throat as he kept driving into you.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you’re mine.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it in, trying to fight back, but every nerve in your body was betraying you. The way his body fit against yours, the way he moved inside you, it was all too much. You were coming again, and you hated it.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild. “Say it.”

You wanted to spit in his face. But your body was telling a different story, hips bucking against him, legs tightening around his waist again.

“R-Rafe,” you whimpered, hating how weak you sounded, how desperate.

His smirk was infuriating, but fuck, it was hot.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper than the last. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

And then he slammed into you one last time, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and the orgasm tore through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. You cried out, head thrown back against the lockers as your body shook with the force of it, your nails raking down his back.

Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he rode out your orgasm, his movements growing sloppier, more erratic. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hips jerking against yours as he finally let go, his release hitting hard. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, as he held you against him, buried deep.

The second his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened, reality came crashing back in. 

What the fuck had you done?

You pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between you, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours like he still had something to prove.

“Get off,” you muttered, your voice weak, but sharper than before.

He chuckled, that low, arrogant sound that drove you crazy. “That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.”

You shot him a glare, shoving at his chest again, harder this time. “I’m serious, Rafe. Move.”

Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back just enough for you to slide off the locker and onto shaky legs. You stumbled a bit, and Rafe’s hand shot out to steady you, but you jerked away from him, pulling your jeans back up with shaky hands.

He leaned against the locker, smirking like he hadn’t just torn your world apart all over again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You wanted to scream at him, to throw something at his face. But instead, you grabbed your shirt off the floor, yanking it over your head as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good luck finding your date.”

Elijah. You’d come to the game with Elijah.

You shook your head as you zipped up your jeans and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look somewhat presentable. You avoided looking at him, knowing that if you did, you’d see the smug satisfaction on his face that would only make you feel worse.

He pushed himself off the locker and took a step closer to you. You flinched, stepping back instinctively. “This can’t happen again.”

His smirk slipped for a moment as he looked at you. H e closed the distance between you in two strides, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him before you could react, “You’re choosing him?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, your heart racing as you forced yourself to take a step back, putting distance between the two of you, “You’re the one who chose yourself.”

His eyes darkened, searching your face, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Maybe he thought he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re the one who walked away,” you added, hating how your voice trembled, “So don’t act like I owe you anything.”

Rafe’s hand hovered like he was about to reach for you again, but he didn’t. “That’s not how I remember it.” 

Your stomach twisted, “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t—” You glanced at the door, feeling the weight of Elijah waiting for you. The one person who was good for you, who actually wanted to be with you.

But the worst part? You were still thinking about Rafe. Even after everything, you were still here, breathless, a mess because of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours, and for a second, you thought he might apologize. Maybe say something real. But Rafe Cameron didn’t do apologies. 

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?” His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face in a gesture that was far too intimate, given everything that had just happened. “Then why are you still standing here?”

You flinched, stepping back. Why were you still standing there? You had no good answer, at least not one you were ready to admit.

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction, not again. “You’re wrong.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t think I am.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, throat tight, trying to push back the tears. This was all wrong. It was always wrong with Rafe, “Stop.”

It sounded like a plea—a plea for him to stop talking, stop looking at you like that, stop making you feel so small and yet so overwhelmed all at once.

Rafe sighed, stepping back just a fraction, and for a second, his gaze lifted. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer now, like that made a difference.

“You always do,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. The truth slipped out before you could stop it, and there it was.

His jaw clenched, "I don’t mean to," he muttered, his voice low. "You know that."

"Does it even matter?" You felt the bitterness rise in your throat, along with something else—something fragile and painful. "You still do it. Whether you mean to or not."

Rafe stayed quiet, and you hated that silence. He didn’t have an answer. He never did, not for this. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your jacket, something to keep your hands busy so you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say something you’d regret. But regret was already everywhere, suffocating you both.

“I thought we were past this,” you said finally, barely more than a whisper. “I thought I was past this.” But clearly, you weren’t. Clearly, some part of you was still here, with him, in the wreckage you’d both created.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, torn. “It’s not that simple.”

"It should be." Your voice cracked. You hated how much this hurt. How much he could still hurt you.

It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to still care this much. You weren’t supposed to still feel this.

Rafe sighed, taking another step back, giving you space. But it wasn’t the kind of space you wanted. It wasn’t the kind that would make things easier. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted quietly, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t find.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "I don’t want anything from you." 

That was the truth, or at least it was supposed to be. You didn’t want anything he had to offer, not anymore. Not when every time you reached for it, it slipped through your fingers like water, leaving you emptier than before.

But there was still that ache, that feeling between you two, the one that dragged you back here even when you knew better. You wished you could kill it, cut it out of you like some infected part, but it was tangled too deep. And maybe a small part of you didn’t want to.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was seeing right through you. “But you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, blinking back tears. Fuck, you hated this. Hated how vulnerable you felt, how easily he could unravel you, even now. “I shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. Like he wanted you to figure it out on your own.

But you didn’t know how. You never did when it came to him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time, it felt real. There was no arrogance. Just Rafe, standing there, as broken as you felt. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “There’s nothing left to fix, Rafe. We’ve already destroyed it.”

His face twisted, like he didn’t want to believe it. Like he was still holding onto some small piece of hope. "We could—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "We can’t."

You couldn’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the endless cycle of hurt and apologies that never really fixed anything. You couldn’t keep pretending that something would change, that he would change.

Because you both knew he wouldn’t.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly, and you could see it—the realization sinking in. 

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

[chosok-amo]

FIVE AND ONE DIFFERENT WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

your boyfriends are perfect in every sense, flawless in the ways that matter. they possess every one of the five love languages and master each one effortlessly. whether it’s the tender touch of reassurance, words that lift you higher, gifts that show how much they care, acts of service that make your life smoother, or simply being there when you need them, they never fail to make you feel cherished.

wc. | masterlist ( art © artist )

have you ever thought that your boyfriends were anything less than perfect? never. the idea doesn’t even cross your mind. they are perfect in every sense, flawless in the ways that matter. they possess every one of the five love languages and master each one effortlessly. whether it’s the tender touch of reassurance, words that lift you higher, gifts that show how much they care, acts of service that make your life smoother, or simply being there when you need them, they never fail to make you feel cherished.

they know how to make you feel understood, valued, and adored, always reminding you that you deserve nothing less than the very best. there’s never a moment of doubt with them—they’re the definition of love that keeps you whole.

THE ACT OF SERVICES

being their girlfriend means you never lift a finger—never. you never hold anything except their hands, and you never do anything they could do for you. they won’t let you. every little task, every minor thing is always handled by them before you even get the chance.

like right now, the three of you are out on a date, walking side by side in the mall. gojo’s carrying your bag in one hand, while his other hand is wrapped around yours, holding it securely. on your other side, geto’s carrying your boba, his thumb softly grazing the back of your hand as he holds it gently in his. it’s like they have this unspoken rule between them—never let you carry a thing, except their hands.

later, you’re sitting together, about to eat dinner. after some back and forth, you all decided on bbq— more likely you decided and they follow along. the grill is set, and you’re all sitting in a cozy circle, about to dig in. as the aroma of the sizzling meat fills the air, you decide you want to help and reach out for the tongs.

but before you can even touch them, gojo’s hand is there, stopping you. he gives you that familiar grin, teasing but firm. “nope,” he says, leaning in a little closer, “what do you think you are doing?”

geto, with that gentle smile of his, adds, “you're cute to think we let you do anything when we are here,” his voice, laced with a hint of amusement, is a mix of soothing and commanding, reminding you that your place is to be pampered, pampered, pampered.

gojo, not one to be outdone, chimes in, “and you're even cuter to think we'd let you burn your pretty little hands,” he says it with a smirk, as if scolding you, like you're a small child attempting to touch a hot stove. he's enjoying this, the power of being in control, the thrill of taking care of you. “sit back and relax, princess,” he tells you, patting your head endearingly.

“fine,” you pout, but deep down you know there's no winning against them. it’s their thing—taking care of you, making sure you don’t lift a finger. so you let them, reluctantly sinking back into your seat, your hand still laced with gojo’s as he pats your head again, this time with a little more affection.

instead of arguing, you reach for the complimentary ice cream the restaurant brought over. as geto tends to the grill and gojo watches with a satisfied grin, you take a bite of the cold, sweet treat, savoring the way it melts on your tongue. you still pout, though, glancing over at them from time to time with an exaggerated sulk. but they know you too well—the pout is more for show than anything.

gojo and geto exchange knowing looks, amused by your exaggerated sulk, fully aware that it is a performance. gojo can't help but chuckle lightly, his hand on your head moving to gently ruffle your hair.

geto turns to you with a smile, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction at the sight of your feigned annoyance. “aren’t you just the cutest when you pout like that?” he teases, his voice dripping with playful affection.

the corners of your lips twitch, and before you know it, a small laugh escapes. your sulky act crumbles as you look between the two of them, their smug expressions making it impossible to keep up the facade. “oh, stop,” you mutter, though you’re laughing now, shaking your head a little at how well they’ve played you.

at the same time, gojo places a perfectly grilled piece of meat on your plate, having just checked to make sure it’s cooked through. “there you go, princess,” he says with a grin, clearly pleased with himself.

geto grins, watching the transformation of your expression with a sense of accomplishment. “admit it,” he teases, his tone playful, “you love it when we take care of you.”

gojo, his hand still on your head, pats it lightly. “of course she does,” he chimes in, his voice cocky, “who wouldn’t enjoy being pampered like a princess?” he puts down more meat on your plate, his gaze flickering between the food and your face, making sure you have everything you need.

the three of you are eating and talking happily, the atmosphere light and filled with warmth. geto and gojo handle the grilling, each of them focused on making sure the food is cooked just right while you sit still, not having to lift a finger—just looking pretty as always. they wouldn’t have it any other way. it’s their thing, after all, making sure you’re completely taken care of.

as you pick at the food in front of you, your attention shifts to one of the dishes that looks tempting, but before you can even think of reaching for it, geto stops you. “baby, don’t eat this, okay? it’s too spicy for you,” he says softly, gently pushing the dish aside so you don’t accidentally take a bite.

he gives you that soft smile, the one that shows how much he’s paying attention, making sure everything is perfect for you. “don’t want you burning your tongue,” he adds with a wink.

you glance up at him, a little surprised but not really. they always know your limits, sometimes even better than you do. with a small nod, you give in, leaning back and letting them continue taking care of everything, a soft smile playing on your lips. “alright,” you say, feeling more spoiled than ever as you biting the edge of your chopsticks and trying to hide your smile and your shyness. it's never getting easier, never, when they spoil you rotten and look and talk to you with their soft voice and soft smile.

gojo leans back, his eyes drifting over the table, taking in the sight of the food, the chopsticks, your hands, the expression on your face. he loves to see you like this, sitting back while he and geto do everything for you.

he reaches over, gently tapping your cheek with a chopstick. “hey,” he grins, “stop biting your chopsticks. you’re gonna ruin your pretty little teeth.” he teases you affectionately, his eyes sparkling with humor.

geto turns to you as well, noticing how you’re trying to hide your shyness behind your bite on the chopsticks. he chuckles softly, but his smile is warm, and he can’t help but adore this side of you.

“cute little thing,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a warm, protective tone. “we’re just trying to look after you, princess.” he reaches over and runs his knuckles lightly over your cheek in a tender gesture, his touch both soothing and possessive.

PHYSICAL TOUCH

when you say your boyfriends are clingy, it’s not an exaggeration. they are very clingy. they always find an excuse to hold you, touch you, kiss you—anything for them to feel your skin on theirs. it's like they're constantly hungry for your touch, never getting enough. their hands always seem to find you, whether it's casual or affectionate, always searching for that connection.

like right now, the three of you are watching a movie together. you’re laying between them, your focus on the screen, enjoying the moment. but then, you start to feel it—small, subtle movements. their hands, slowly but surely, inching closer to you. they’re moving so cautiously, as if they’re trying not to let you notice.

gojo’s hand grazes your arm, his touch feather-light, tracing gentle lines up and down. on your other side, geto’s hand rests on your thigh, his thumb making soft, lazy circles against your skin. both of them are acting like they’re trying to be sneaky, but the warmth of their touch is unmistakable. it’s always like this with them, finding reasons to be closer, even when you’re already together.

they don’t say a word, their attention seemingly still on the movie, but you know better. you can feel their need to be close, their desire to be connected with you in every possible way. and honestly, you don’t mind. their constant touch is something you’ve come to love, even if you pretend not to notice. it’s just the way they are—always hungry for your presence.

“stop it,” you suddenly said without taking your eyes off the screen.

at your words, both gojo and geto freeze, their movements halted. they hadn’t expected you to notice their subtle and stealthy advances, and now they’re caught red handed.

gojo is the first to recover, a smirk appearing on his face. “stop what?” he asks innocently, his hand still resting on your arm, his touch light and warm.

geto gives a soft huff, his fingers still tracing patterns on your thigh. he’d been so close to wrapping his arm around you when you spoke, and now he’s pouting a little.

“we were just enjoying the movie,” gojo says playfully, his smirk widening. he’s not done yet, not by a long shot. he moves his hand a little, his fingers dancing over your skin, leaving a trail of ticklish sensations.

geto, not one to be outdone, chimes in as well. his voice is a bit pouty, but there’s a hint of playfulness in his tone. “yeah, princess. we’re just sitting here, being well-behaved.” his fingers continue their slow, teasing circles on your thigh.

you roll your eyes, giving them both a nod and a scoff. “yeah, right,” you reply with a smile tugging at your lips. you know what they’re up to, and they know you know. but you don’t stop them. in fact, you just relax further into their touch, letting them continue with their little game, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort in their playful affection.

gojo grins, knowing full well that he’s been caught out. he takes your acceptance as permission to push his limits further.

“what can we say,” he hums, “we just can’t keep our hands to ourselves when you’re around.”

geto nods in agreement, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “yep, we’re just helpless.” he glances over at you, his expression softer than gojo's, but his touch on your thigh is still teasing, still making those soft, circular motions.

you can’t help but smile at their antics, letting them do whatever they want. it’s a familiar dance by now, one you’ve grown used to and secretly love. just as you’re reveling in the warmth of the moment, gojo sees your reaction and decides to get even bolder. he shifts, laying his head on your chest and hugging you tightly.

“i wanna hold you,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against you, and the way he snuggles closer and tangled your legs with his makes your heart flutter. it’s an endearing sight, one that makes it impossible for you to resist. you wrap your arms around him instinctively, feeling the warmth of his body against yours and the way he relaxes even more in your embrace.

geto watches the scene unfold with an amused smile on his face. seeing gojo snuggling up to you like that makes him want to do the same, so he quickly follows suit.

without missing a beat, he scoots closer to you, his body pressed against your other side. he drapes his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip, as he nestles his head against your shoulder, mimicking gojo's position.

you let out a soft sigh, a mixture of exasperation and affection, as you wrap your arm around geto as well, pulling him in closer. “i swear you two can’t even go a minute without touching me,” you tease, shaking your head with a smile. your heart swells at the sight of both of them nestled against you, and despite your playful complaint, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

gojo snuggles closer, nuzzling his face against your chest as he responds. “you’re just too damn comfortable,” he mumbles, his voice muffled against your shirt. “and you smell really nice.”

geto chuckles at gojo’s response, his hand slipping under your shirt and rubbing small, soothing circles on the skin of your hip. “he’s right,” he says in agreement, “you’re like a walking pillow.”

you hum softly at their responses, a warm smile spreading across your face. feeling playful, you start to run your hands along their backs, enjoying the feeling of their warmth against you.

leaning down, you place gentle kisses on their heads, letting them know just how much you cherish these moments. the affection and closeness make you feel at home, surrounded by the people you love the most.

both gojo and geto melt into your touch, their bodies relaxing even further against you as you caress their backs and bestow kisses on their heads. for all of their teasing and playfulness, they're also completely helpless when it comes to your tenderness.

gojo lets out a low, contented sigh, his breath warm against your chest. “you’re gonna spoil us,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of pleading.

geto chimes in as well, his head nuzzling against your shoulder. “more please,” he requests, his voice just a soft whisper.

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

your boyfriends always know what to say, always know how to talk, always know exactly what you want to hear. they have an uncanny ability to calm you down with their words, wrapping you in a cocoon of comfort whenever life gets overwhelming. it’s one of the things you love most about them—the way they can read you like an open book, sensing when you need support and stepping in without hesitation.

just like right now, you find yourself sitting in geto's lap, nestled against him while he sits beside gojo on the couch. the world outside feels chaotic and unforgiving, and today has been one of those days when everything seems to go wrong. it started with small inconveniences—a spilled drink, forget things, and escalated into feelings of frustration and sadness that seemed to pile on top of you like a heavy blanket.

as the tears spill down your cheeks, you can’t help but cry on geto's lap, your emotions spilling out uncontrollably. he wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you close as if trying to shield you from the weight of the world. his touch is warm and grounding, a stark contrast to the storm of feelings inside you. “it’s okay, princess,” he murmurs softly, his voice smooth and reassuring. “you are doing a good job, we are so proud of you.”

gojo, sitting beside geto on the couch, his expression soft and understanding, watches the scene unfold. he can see the tears streaming down your face, the overwhelming sadness and frustration evident in your every expression. he wants nothing more than to hold you, to soothe the pain and make everything better.

he reaches over, gently rubbing your back, his touch light but supportive. “he’s right,” he says, his voice filled with love and reassurance. “you’re amazing, and we’re here for you through it all. always. you’re not alone, sweetheart.”

geto watches you closely, his heart aching at the sight of your tears. he understands the weight of what you’re going through, and he feels compelled to add his voice to gojo’s comforting words. Leaning in a little closer, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and tender.

“it must be really hard for you to go through your day and try to hold all of those emotions inside,” he says softly, his voice steady and filled with empathy. “but you’re so strong for getting through it, even when everything feels overwhelming. we’re really proud of you, you know?”

he pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in, watching as you take a shaky breath. “and it’s okay to feel this way,” he continues. “tomorrow is a new day. you can try again, and we’ll be right here with you, cheering you on. i promise you’re going to have a better day.”

geto's gaze is sincere, his unwavering support washing over you like a comforting wave. his words wrap around you, mixing with gojo's gentle reassurances, creating a safe space for your feelings.

gojo keeps rubbing your back, his hand moving in small, soothing circles. his eyes meet geto's, and they share a unspoken understanding. they both love you so much, and it breaks their hearts to see you crying like this.

he gives a small, soft smile, his gaze flickering between you and geto. “yeah,” he echoes softly, “you’ve been doing so well, princess. we know it hasn’t been easy, but you’ve been fighting through it all this time. we’re here for you, every step of the way. always.”

you nod slowly against geto's chest, a soft sob escaping your lips as the warmth of their words sinks in. sniffing back your tears, you manage to lift your head slightly to meet their gazes, a small smile breaking through the sadness on your face. “okay,” you say, your voice trembling but filled with gratitude.

gojo and geto both return your small smile with genuine, affectionate grins of their own. just seeing that little hint of a smile on your face makes their hearts skip a beat.

“that’s our girl,” gojo says fondly, his hand rubbing your back again. “always bounces back,” geto adds, his arms tightening around you, pulling you closer as he gently plants a kiss on your forehead.

“we’re with you, through any storm,” gojo continues, his voice reassuring. they can still see the sadness lingering in your eyes, but they also see your resilience. you’re strong, and they know you can weather this.

“you’re not going through anything alone,” geto says, his voice soft yet sure. his fingers gently brush some stray tears off your face, his touch light but nurturing. “we’re here, no matter what. always.”

QUALITY TIME

the perk of being the strongest sorcerers means that your boyfriends, gojo and geto, are often swamped with responsibilities—school, endless meetings, and dangerous missions. but despite how busy they are, they never make you feel neglected. you never have to beg for their time. in fact, they always prioritize you, dropping everything the moment they sense you need them, or just because they miss you.

like right now, you’re lounging in the bedroom, casually playing with your phone, when suddenly, the door opens, and they both walk in, their presence immediately filling the room with warmth.

without hesitation, gojo leans against the doorframe, a playful smile on his face. “sweetheart, you got any plans for tomorrow night?” he asks, his tone casual but with a glint of excitement in his eyes.

you put your phone down and shift, turning to lay on your stomach as you prop yourself up slightly. with a curious smile, you shake your head, eyes flickering between them. “nope, no plans. why?” you ask, your tone light and playful, a hint of excitement creeping in as you wonder what they’ve got up their sleeves.

geto sits down on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush your hair. his touch is tender, his eyes fixed on you. gojo, meanwhile, pushes off the doorframe, sauntering over to the bed and plopping down next to geto with a smirk.

“we cleared our schedules,” gojo said, his voice smooth and full of affection, “we were thinking it’s time for a night out, just the three of us.” geto nods in agreement, his fingers moving to gently run up and down your arm. “you up for a little adventure?” he asks with a sly smile.

a grin spreads across your face as you hear their suggestion. without hesitation, you push yourself up slightly and raise your hand for a high five. “hell yeah,” you say, your excitement clear as gojo, ever playful, immediately slaps your hand with a wide grin of his own.

but then, a thought crosses your mind, and you tilt your head, your eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. “wait, don’t you guys have meetings tomorrow?” you ask, glancing between them. there’s a teasing lilt to your voice, but also genuine curiosity about how they managed to pull this off.

gojo throws his arm around your shoulders, a smirk on his face that screams troublemaker. "ah, about that," he says, trying to sound nonchalant, "we might have pulled some strings."

geto, on the other hand, just chuckles, his hand moving to rest on your thigh. “let's just say, we might owe a few favors to some higher-ups,” he admits, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

gojo grins wider, clearly not bothered by the idea of owing favors. “it’s all worth it, princess,” he says, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your shoulder. “we haven’t had a good night out in ages, and we’re determined to make this one unforgettable.” geto nods in agreement, his hand giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. “yep, and we’ve got something special planned just for you,” he says with a playful smirk.

you squint your eyes at them, pretending to be skeptical for a moment, and let out an exaggerated, feigned sigh. “you two always abuse your power,” you tease, your tone dripping with mock annoyance.

but the small smile playing at the corner of your lips betrays you, and they can see right through your act. it’s clear you’re not really complaining; if anything, you’re loving every second of their attention.

gojo and geto glance at each other, their grins growing wider, knowing exactly what you’re playing at, but playing along.

“hey, we’d do anything to spend some quality time with our favorite girl,” gojo says with a scoff, pretending to be offended. geto rolls his eyes, his hand moving to gently tug at your hair. “yeah, we’re such terrible sorcerers for using our power to plan a night of fun for our princess,” he adds, his tone just as dramatic.

you scrunch your nose at their playful dramatics, unable to hold back a chuckle. their banter always gets to you, and the way they both go along with your teasing makes your heart warm. without saying a word, you lean upward, closing the small distance between you and them, and give each of them a quick kiss—soft, affectionate, but brief enough to leave them wanting more.

“you two are impossible,” you say with a playful smile, your eyes sparkling with affection.

gojo pouts, crossing his arms and flopping back on the bed. “impossible?” he repeats, the word coming out in a drawn-out whine. geto snorts at his reaction, his hand still playing with your hair. “yeah, and princess, you’re the one encouraging our bad behavior,” he adds with a feigned sigh, his eyes flickering between you and gojo with a playful spark.

RECEIVING GIFS

do you know that feeling when you're in a relationship and you secretly hope your partner would surprise you with something thoughtful, like flowers or chocolates, without you having to ask? maybe you’ve even heard your friends talk about how they wish their significant other would just pick up on those little desires without needing a nudge. they talk about how they wait for those small, romantic gestures, only to be disappointed when they don’t come.

well, that’s something you’ll never understand. not because you don’t want those surprises, but because your boyfriends have made sure you never have to ask for anything. in fact, they seem to always be one step ahead. whether it’s a normal, uneventful day or something more special, like your birthday or an anniversary, they always go above and beyond. sometimes it’s almost like they can read your mind—or maybe they just know you that well.

they don’t wait for hints or subtle suggestions. if they feel like treating you, they’ll do it without a second thought, and it’s often. one day it’s a spontaneous bouquet of flowers, and the next, it’s chocolates they know are your favorite. you might be lounging on the couch, enjoying some quiet time, when the door swings open, and they walk in with bags of new clothes they picked out just because they thought you’d look amazing in them. no occasion needed. it’s as if spoiling you is something they enjoy just as much as you do.

and let’s not even get started on your birthday, your anniversary, or valentine’s day. on those days, they take gift-giving to a whole new level, pulling out all the stops. they shower you with gifts—everything from luxury items to personalized tokens of affection that leave you feeling cherished beyond words. they never miss a chance to remind you how much you mean to them.

today, it’s just another normal evening. you’re standing in the kitchen, casually preparing dinner for them. you’ve learned by now that cooking when they’re home is nearly impossible. they never let you lift a finger once they walk through the door. either they’ll distract you with their affection, or they’ll insist on ordering your favorite takeout because they don’t want you to worry about anything, especially not when it comes to food.

so, you decided to get a head start before they come back. the aroma of a home-cooked meal fills the kitchen, and just as you’re adding the final touches to the dish, you hear the familiar sound of the door opening. your heart skips a beat—knowing it’s them—before you even see them. it’s like the air in the room shifts the moment they step inside.

you turn around, wiping your hands on a towel, and sure enough, there they are. gojo’s tall figure fills the doorway first, his ever-playful smirk on display as he walks in. following closely behind is geto, his calm demeanor a perfect contrast to gojo’s vibrant energy. but what really catches your attention are the things they’re carrying. in gojo’s hand is a large, stunning bouquet of your favorite flowers, vibrant and freshly arranged. in geto’s arms are several shopping bags—no doubt filled with more surprises—and balanced on top of the bags is a beautifully wrapped box of chocolates. not just any chocolates—your favorite kind, the ones they always get just right.

you blink in surprise, a smile already tugging at your lips. “oh baby, what’s all this?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

gojo struts in confidently, the bouquet of bright and fragrant flowers in his hand. his smirk widens into a full-blown, ear-to-ear smile, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

geto follows behind, carrying the bags and the box of chocolates with his usual calm demeanor. he meets your gaze, his eyes warm and filled with love. he knows your reaction will be priceless.

“just a little some some,” gojo says casually, closing the distance between you. he holds out the flowers, that same charming smirk playing on his lips. “for our princess, of course.”

geto nods in agreement, laying the bags on the kitchen counter and carefully setting the chocolates down on top. his eyes never leave you, taking in your slightly bewildered yet pleased expression.

“can’t have a day go by without spoiling our princess,” geto adds, a lazy smile on his lips.

gojo moves even closer, his hand finding its way to your waist, pulling you against him. “gotta keep you on your toes,” he teases, his voice low and playful. “besides, can’t have you getting bored of us, now can we?”

a bright smile instantly spreads across your face as you take the bouquet from gojo, the sweet fragrance filling the space between you. “i don’t think i could ever get bored of you two, even if you didn’t spoil me rotten like this,” you reply with a playful grin, your eyes twinkling with affection.

gojo lets out a mock scoff, feigning offense, his hand still resting on your hip. “careful, princess, that’s almost an insult,” he teases, his grin mirroring yours.

geto chuckles softly, shaking his head, his arms now free. he steps closer to you and gojo, his eyes locked on you as you hold the flowers in your hands, admiring them. “just admit you love being spoiled,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“yeah, we know you love it when we go overboard,” gojo adds, his hand gently rubbing your hip, his touch light and affectionate.

geto nods, his gaze shifting from you to the bouquet in your hands, a soft smile on his lips. “after all, how could we resist? especially when you look so damn cute with that happy sparkle in your eyes.”

you hold the bouquet up to your nose, inhaling the sweet fragrance, and a soft hum of contentment escapes your lips. gojo’s grip on your hip tightens just a fraction, his touch sending a warm shiver down your spine.

“alright, you got me,” you admit, your tone light and playful. “i do love being spoiled by my two handsome boyfriends.”

gojo gives your hip a gentle squeeze, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “that's more like it,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. geto chuckles again, moving even closer to you. his eyes scan your face, drinking in your every expression, the way your eyes light up and sparkle in your hands. his voice is warm as he agrees with you.

“and we love spoiling you,” he says, his words filled with genuine affection. “especially when you look so happy and radiant like this.” your smile grows even bigger as you stand on your tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on both of their cheeks. “thank you,” you whisper, your voice full of warmth and appreciation, feeling their closeness and affection wrap around you like a blanket.

gojo lets out a low, contented hum as your lips touch his cheek, his smile widening. he leans into the kiss, a hint of a playful gleam in his eyes.

geto’s expression softens even more at your gesture, his eyes filled with pure tenderness. he leans down just a little so you can reach him, his arm encircling around your waist, pulling you close against him.

“you’re more than welcome,” geto replies, his voice gentle and warm. “seeing you smile is all the thanks we need, princess.” his lips grazing your forehead, leaving a kiss in return. “we’ll always make sure you’re happy,” he assures you, his eyes meeting yours with gentle tenderness.

gojo leans down as well, pressing another kiss to your other cheek, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment. “that's right,” he agrees with geto, his tone firm and sincere. “nothing's more important than your smile, princess.”

he straightens up, his hand still on your hip, his touch light but possessive. “we’ll do whatever it takes to keep that beautiful smile on your face,” he adds with a smirk, his eyes filled with affectionate determination.

ANOTHER WAY TO SAY I LOVE YOU

despite all the endless love they shower you with, gojo and geto have a relentless streak when it comes to teasing you. it’s almost as if they take a certain joy in seeing how far they can push you before you throw a fit—just so they can wrap you in their arms afterward, apologize sweetly, and watch your face blush with frustration. they love seeing that upset, pouty expression, knowing it’s only a matter of time before they have to spoil you all over again to make up for it. they never mean any harm, but they certainly enjoy pushing your buttons to the limit.

like today. it’s the weekend, and the three of you somehow got it in your heads that baking a cake together would be a fun, relaxing activity. a dumb idea, really, but none of you were willing to back down once it was suggested. after all, what could possibly go wrong?

the kitchen is a chaotic mess as the three of you work—well, as much as you can call it "work." geto is organizing the ingredients with precision, while you and gojo stand side by side, tasked with mixing the batter. or rather, you’re trying to mix the batter while gojo is making a mess of things. despite geto’s clear instructions to use a spoon or whisk, gojo insisted on mixing with his hands, which he dramatically donned gloves for, claiming it was more "authentic" and "fun." you should have known better than to let him go along with it.

as you focus on your part of the task, suddenly, you feel gojo’s hand on your arm. “hey, come here for a second,” he says innocently, pulling you closer to him. before you even realize what’s happening, his gloved hand, completely covered in wet dough, smears all over your arm.

you scream, jerking back in surprise, staring down at your dough-coated arm in disbelief. “satoru! what the hell?” your voice is a mix of shock and frustration as you look at him, wide-eyed.

gojo lets out a laugh at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and mischief. “what?” he says, feigning innocence, a sly smile on his face. “it was just a little accidental cake batter on your arm. it’s harmless.”

geto, meanwhile, shakes his head, clearly exasperated at gojo's antics. he looks at you, then at gojo, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement. “satoru, you're going to undo all the work we've done so far.”

“ah, come on, it’s just a bit of fun,” gojo replies, a mischievous grin on his face, clearly enjoying the situation. he continues to mix the batter with his gloved hands, creating more of a mess in the process—intentional or not.

geto rolls his eyes but can’t help but crack a smile, shaking his head again at the mess they’re making in the kitchen. “yeah, fun for you, maybe. not so much for the rest of us trying to actually bake a cake.”

you let out a loud groan, stomping your foot in frustration. “ugh! now the batter’s all over me! it’s sticky, and it’s going to ruin my clothes!” you stretch your arms out awkwardly, trying your hardest to keep the messy dough from spreading any further onto your outfit.

“satoru!” you whine, shooting him a glare as you attempt to shake the dough off, but it’s clinging stubbornly to your skin. “this is so gross! now i have to clean this off, and if it gets on my clothes, i swear i’m not baking with you two again!” your mini tantrum cracking a bigger smile from geto's lips.

gojo chuckles in response, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “aww, it's just a little batter, princess. don’t be such a drama queen,” he replies, his tone nonchalant and carefree.

he mixes the batter some more, creating even more of a mess while enjoying the spectacle of your frustrated reaction. “it's not that bad. you're overreacting. and plus, it's kind of cute seeing you all worked up like this, isn't it geto?” he adds, throwing a glance at his partner.

geto, who’s been watching gojo’s antics with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, sighs deeply, unable to hide his smile completely. “i wouldn’t say cute exactly. more like…mildly entertaining.” he turns his attention to you, his eyes scanning you up and down. “although i will say, the way you’re pouting right now is quite endearing,” he teases.

you scrunch your nose in clear annoyance, giving them both an exaggerated glare. “no, it’s not cute! it’s gross! it’s wet, sticky, and buttery,” you huff, stretching your arms out again in frustration, careful not to get the batter on anything else. “my skin is going to be all oily, and i’ll smell like butter for the rest of the day!” you complain in a dramatic, sassy tone.

“seriously, satoru, why can’t you just mix it like a normal person? why did you have to make this so messy?” you continue, your voice full of mock indignation as you try your best to salvage your dignity.

gojo laughs again at your annoyed reaction, clearly enjoying your frustration. “oh, live a little, princess. it’s just a bit of cake batter. it's not going to kill you, and it definitely won’t kill your sense of style,” he retorts, his tone slightly mocking.

geto just watches with an amused expression, his arms crossed against his chest. “yeah, relax a little, princess. you’re being a bit too high strung about this whole thing. it’s just a little mess.”

you let out an exasperated groan, stomping your feet in frustration as you turn away from them. “ugh, you’re both such assholes!” you shout over your shoulder, your voice a mix of irritation and amusement.

you march over to the sink, the cool water looking like a welcome relief for your sticky arms. as you turn on the faucet, you can’t help but throw a playful glare back at them.

you start rinsing your arms, the water washing away the gooey batter. “seriously, though, who thought baking would be a good idea?” you mumble, shaking your head as the remnants of the cake batter swirl down the drain.

gojo grins widely at your reaction, not seeming remorseful in the slightest. “aww, princess, we’re just having a bit of fun. don’t be so serious,” he replies, his tone still teasing.

geto chuckles softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “well, it was your idea to bake a cake, remember?” he points out, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

you stop mid-scrub, turning to geto with a fierce glare. “shut up! nobody asked you!” you shoot back, your voice a mix of frustration and playful sass. you resume cleaning your hands, splashing a little more water than necessary as you try to keep a straight face.

gojo laughs out loud at your snappy comeback, clearly enjoying your feistiness. “damn, princess, you’re on fire today,” he remarks, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

geto just grins amusedly at your reaction. “careful, princess. one more outburst like that and you might just burst a blood vessel.” he teases, his tone light and carefree.

you try to ignore their teasing, focusing on rinsing off the last bits of batter from your hands. but just as you think you’ve escaped their antics, you feel gojo’s hands grab your arms again, smothering you in even more cake batter.

“satoru!” you shout, half-laughing and half-exasperated as you watch the globs of sticky mixture cling to your skin. “what is wrong with you?!”

gojo grins mischievously as he watches the look on your face, clearly having the time of his life. “what? you look so damn cute covered in cake batter,” he teases, his hands still holding your wrists firmly.

geto, who’s been watching from the side, finally intervenes, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “satoru, seriously, quit antagonizing her. she’s going to kill you at this rate.”

you feel the frustration bubble up inside you, and despite your best efforts to hold it together, the tears spill over, warm and salty against your cheeks. “why do you always have to tease me?” you manage to choke out, your voice shaky as you stretch your arms awkwardly, trying to shake off the sticky cake batter clinging to your skin.

gojo watches, amusement dancing in his eyes, but the sight of your tears causes his playful demeanor to falter for just a moment. his teasing grin softens as he takes a step closer, still holding your wrists. “hey, come on. it was just a bit of fun. don’t cry,” he says, his tone shifting from mischievous to genuinely concerned.

geto, standing nearby, can’t help but chuckle softly at your reaction, though the warmth in his gaze shows he cares. “looks like our little princess is really upset now,” he remarks, shaking his head with a playful smile. but as he steps closer, the teasing in his eyes melts away, replaced with an affectionate expression.

with a gentle sigh, he walks over to you, his arms opening wide in a comforting gesture. “there you are, our crybaby,” he says softly, wrapping you in a warm embrace that feels like a safe haven. his hold is reassuring, and the way he presses you against his chest makes you feel a bit better despite the tears still streaming down your face.

gojo’s expression changes from amused to genuinely concerned as he watches you trying to hold back your tears, his grip on your wrist loosening a bit.

“princess…” he says softly, his voice filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to make you cry. it was just a stupid joke.”

geto holds you in a comforting embrace, his arms wrapped around you tightly. he can’t help a soft chuckle at your reaction, but his eyes are filled with warmth and concern. “hey, it’s okay, love. it’s just cake batter.”

you snuggle closer into geto's embrace, feeling the warmth radiate from him as you try to steady your breath. your voice is muffled against his chest as you protest, “it’s a mess! and i’m not a crybaby!” the words come out a bit more whiny than you intended, and you can’t help but feel a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

gojo lets out a small sigh, his hand moving to gently pat your head, his touch softer now. “i know, i know. i’m sorry, princess. i shouldn’t have messed around like that.”

geto rubs your back soothingly, his embrace still firm and reassuring. he smiles at your whiny protest, his voice laced with affectionate patience. “oh, you’re not a crybaby?” he teases gently. “then why are you acting like one right now?”

you pull away slightly, still feeling a bit flustered but determined to regain your composure. “shut up,” you mutter, shooting geto a playful glare before turning your attention to gojo. “and you—better clean my arms! look at this mess!”

you stretch out your dough-covered arms dramatically, showing off the sticky concoction that clings to your skin. your pout is half-hearted, a mix of annoyance and amusement that’s hard to hide.

gojo lets out a small laugh, his eyes roaming over your sticky arms. “fine, fine, i’ll clean them. you’re really being such a drama queen about this cake batter.”

he steps closer to you, his hands reaching out to grab your wrists gently. his touch is surprisingly tender, his long fingers wrapping around your arms carefully. “just stay still for a second, princess. let me clean you up.”

he starts to clean your arms, carefully wiping the cake batter away, his touch a mixture of gentle and firm. he takes his time, making sure not to miss any spots and get every bit of batter off your skin. “see, it’s not so bad,” he teases softly.

geto watches from the side, his gaze filled with a mix of amusement and affection. he can’t help but find your dramatic reaction endearing, and he chuckles softly at your pout.

you grumble in mock annoyance. “you guys always do this, don’t you? tease me until I’m crying,” you say, trying to maintain your serious demeanor, but a hint of amusement sparkles in your eyes.

despite the playful pout on your lips, it’s hard to stay upset when gojo is being so gentle and attentive. “it’s like you both get a kick out of it,” you add, rolling your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betray your true feelings, twitching up into a reluctant smile.

gojo chuckles at your complaint, his lips curling into a sly smile. “can you blame us?” he teases. "you’re just too cute when you’re all pouty and worked up. and it’s even cuter when you start acting like a crybaby.”

geto snorts, unable to hold back an amused laugh. “he’s right, you know,” he says, his voice casual but filled with affection. “watching you get all riled up is one of our favorite pastimes.”

geto’s expression softens as he watches you, a warm smile spreading across his face. he gently pats your head, his fingers brushing through your hair. “adorable,” he added, his tone playful yet sincere, “you look really cute when you’re glaring at us like that.” he chuckles softly, noticing how you’re trying so hard to hide your amusement, even as your cheeks flush a bright red from frustration.

“it’s adorable, actually. especially when you’re all worked up and your little pout makes you look even cuter and how your cheeks became red from frustation.” his eyes sparkle with affection, clearly enjoying the moment.

gojo, who's still wiping the batter off your arms, smiles at geto's words, his eyes flicking up to meet his partner's gaze. “i agree,” he says, his tone filled with amusement. “you really do look adorable when you’re all flustered and frustrated like this.”

he grins, his touch growing even gentler as he works. “your little pout and those rosy cheeks? damn, princess, it’s almost too cute,” he chimes in. “it makes me want to just pinch your cheeks and tease you even more just to see you get even more riled up.”

you roll your eyes at gojo’s teasing, crossing your arms defiantly. “i’m not cute,” you insist, trying to maintain a serious expression, but it falters as a hint of a smile threatens to break through.

geto hums softly in response, clearly enjoying the banter. he leans closer, his fingers gently stroking your hair as he plants a soft kiss on your red cheek. “how about we skip the mess and just buy a cake from that bakery you love so much?” he suggests, his voice smooth and soothing. “i think that sounds much better than dealing with this chaos.”

you pucker your lips, trying to hide the smile spreading across your face as you nod in agreement. “fine, if you're forcing me,” you say, your tone a mix of reluctance and excitement. you can’t help but feel a little giddy at the thought of indulging in a delicious cake from your favorite bakery.

gojo rolls his eyes at your protest. “please. you’re adorable and you know it,” he retorts, his tone playful. “and there’s no point in hiding it either, princess. we know the truth.”

geto chuckles at your agreement, his voice warm and affectionate. “that’s our princess, always giving in so easily,” he teases, planting another soft kiss on your cheek before stepping away. “let’s go get your cake, love.”

[zriasstuff]

Slytherin boys x reader (kinky shit vol.1)

lowk embarrassed because this is from my shortlived unhinged wattpad era, but here you go (i didn’t want this to just rot away in my google docs drafts), vol.2 in case you’re interested

Warnings: overstimulation kink, sexual content, no plot, mdni, yk the drill, not proof read

Mattheo Riddle:

He enjoys it so much when you continue to suck him after he just came down your throat. His tip is always hypersensitive, and he turns into a groaning and swearing mess when you swirl your tongue around it. Although he tries to control it, the occasional whimper slips through too. The feeling of pain and pleasure combined makes his swollen dick twitch in your mouth and come extremely quickly.

“Fuck princess, only you can make me feel like this”

Tom Riddle:

He will almost always tie you up, either to the headboard, or arms behind your back. After he comes inside you, he knows that you’re still sensitive.

Since he himself is too, he’ll shove three fingers in you and watch as you squirm and whimper from the overwhelming sensation. Your insides are barely able to handle the immediate penetration and start to feel like they’re twisting. He’ll either tell you to beg for release or for him to stop. “Use your words, doll”/“You’re such a fucking slut for me, you deserve whatever I do to you”/“Beg for it you desperate slut”

You always come a minimum of three times, and he will make sure that you can barely walk afterwards. The control that he has over you just turns him on all the more.

Theodore Nott:

After you finish, he’ll tell you to finger yourself and to come once more. He enjoys having the power over you and you being obedient. Of course you do what he wants, painfully so and during it, he’ll control your speed and the amount of fingers. “Good girl, doing whatever I tell her to”/“Such a good girl for me”/“Come on, I know you can do it”

You also love all the praise, so you always make sure to put on a show for him.

After the pleasurable torture you put yourself through, he always gives you sweet aftercare.

Blaise Zabini:

He especially loves it when you ride him. Normally he wants both of you to come at the same time, but sometimes he tells you to control yourself a little after he came already. Then, after he came, he’ll tell you to keep going at his own expense, and watches you as you use him for your own pleasure. Every time you clench around him a moan slips out as he goes completely insane from the overstimulation on his already exhausted cock. It makes him feel incredibly turned on, to be at your mercy and to be used. Yes princess, use me all you want”/“All this is yours”/“Fuck you look hot on top of me”

Enzo Berkshire:

Overstimulation is one of his biggest kinks, so any way, shape or form of it is always extremely welcome. You make sure to do it to the point where he is completely out of breath and can only whimper under your control. After doing it, you sometimes wrap your hand around him and jerk him to come once more. At that point he’s already a moaning mess and his dick is consistently red and leaking. “Please can I cum?”/“You make me feel so good”

Instead of your hand, you also use your mouth sometimes. You deepthroat him for maximum pleasure and you feel his hips bucking and begging for renewed release.

Draco Malfoy:

For him it involves a bit of temp play too, but after both of you finish he’ll get a few ice cubes to drag out your post-orgasm pleasure. He’ll slowly drag them along your hardened nipples, all the way to your clit, holding the cube in place there. The sudden change in temperature always brings out uncontrollably loud moans from you and makes you squirm around. As soon as you move too much, he’ll shove one cube inside you, which causes you to melt into a whimpering mess. “Bad girls need to be punished”/“You look so pathetic, barely being able to stay still”

[teyvathandymenclub]

Bring Your Child to Work Day

Characters: Neuvillette, Itto, Cyno, Ayato

TW: None

Neuvillette

It has been two days since you fell sick not being able to leave your bed. Your husband was always really caring, but his loving personality shined especially on days like this. You have never been more thankful for him being by your side. Neuvillette even took time off from work which happened only once when your daughter was born.

But being such an important figure in Fontaine comes with responsibilities that he could not ignore, so he had to leave for a few hours.

“Honey, what are you doing?” You almost laughed when you saw him packing your daughter's backpack.

“Packing for our business trip.” Neuvillette smiled at you happily, seeing you feeling a little bit better. 

“I am fine, she can stay with me.”

“No. And I am not going to discuss that any further.” Neuvillette hugged you tightly and left with the little girl in one hand and her backpack in the other.

After arriving at Palais Mermonia, the little girl started shuffling too much so Neuvillette put her down. She immediately straightened her dress and stuck her chin up just like her daddy always does after entering the building. Neuvillete went straight towards his office not realizing his daughter mirroring his majestic walk, filling the hallway with loud taps right behind him as she tried to keep up with him. 

Everyone almost melted at the sight of the little girl, but no one dared to speak to or touch the child of the Judex.

Neuvillette settled behind his desk and gave his daughter all the supplies to keep her occupied for some time. She took out all of her crayons and started to draw. Neuvillette almost tapped himself on the shoulder for amazing management of the situation until he realized that he was blessed with a drawing of a weirdly mixed pony and snake on one of the contracts that he just signed. When he took it away from her, she grabbed another. 

“No baby, these are daddy´s papers, these are yours.”

He had to wrestle her for the papers for a moment until he gave up and put her down from his desk.

“That is my chair. I want to sit in the big chair.” The little girl protested.

“No, that is my chair, but I will let you sit there when I finish…”

“Daddy splash, splash!!” She interrupted him.

“No, Daddy can not, he would make a mess in his office my dear...” 

But before he could finish his sentence, the little girl summoned her power out of nowhere as she started running around and made a huge puddle in every corner of his office. 

Neuvillette jumped up from his seat and started to chase her. He even almost slipped once before he finally caught her and carried her out of his office under his arm like a bag of potatoes.

“I did not know that my daughter is such a devilish little dragon.” He mumbled as he was looking for a melusine. 

“I know I have never made this kind of request, but can you entertain her for a few minutes? I would not ask you if it would not be an emergency.” He said, almost ashamed. 

“Absolutely! However long you need.” One of the melusines smiled, excited from such an unexpected task.

After quickly finishing work in peace, Neuvillette packed the pink backpack thinking about not bringing it again, and left to look for his daughter. It took him a while until he heard her giggle in one of the administrative rooms. The little girl was surrounded by at least four melusines playing games unknown to Neuvillette. 

“I do not know how to thank you.” He said full of gratitude.

“Do not mention it Mr. Neuvillette. We were glad to help!” Melusines said almost in unison and waved goodbye as he picked her up into his arms.

“I think we deserve a little treat after a long work day.” He smiled at his daughter in the streets of Fontaine. 

“Yes! Yes! Ice cream!” She jumped. “And for Mommy too!”

“Absolutely! We can not forget to pick medicine for her and her favorite treat to cheer her up.” Neuvillette smiled.

“Balloons!!!” The little girl screamed and ran away.

Neuvillette ran after her while he thought about whether or not shops sell leashes for little dragons.

Itto

That morning you woke up with someone standing right next to your side of the bed.

“Itto? What is going on?!” You asked confused.

“I have decided that today is the day when I am going to introduce our son to my gang.” Itto smiled brightly with a baby carrier strapped to his body.

“Your gang? You do not have a gang anymore.”

“But we stayed friends and still call ourselves a gang, Mrs. Smart.” Itto rolled his eyes.

“I know, I am just teasing you.” You pulled him down to you to kiss him. “I think it is a good idea, but you need to be careful. Can you promise me that?”

“Absolutely? You do not know me? I am the most…” Itto stopped himself after he saw your raised brows. “Do not worry, wifey. Love you. Bye!”

Itto suddenly disappeared, leaving you confused when you heard your son coo in his crib. After a few minutes, the door on your home opened with Itto´s head peeking into your bedroom.

“Did you forget something?” You asked, not making it easy for him.

“Yeeeah, about that… Have I left our son here? Or should I look elsewhere?”

“Itto? Are you joking??” You looked at the baby in the crib.

“Of course! Of course, I am joking.” Itto reached for his son and strapped him into the baby carrier. “Bye-bye.” Itto waved at you with little Oni´s hand in his and left.

Once he met with his gang he could not stop bragging how strong and amazing his son is. Just like his father, obviously. 

After they finished lunch, Itto dragged them into the woods on a mission to find a big beetle that he could train for his son.

“But Boss! He can't even walk yet.” Argued one of the boys.

“He can start any day now, I need to be prepared. It is not easy to train a new champion. You need to start early!” Itto shut him down.

After a few hours of unsuccessful searching for the biggest and mightiest beetle, the gang left for lunch number two. And also the baby boy smelled because he needed a clean diaper.

As Itto left the restaurant with a full belly and the baby with a freshly changed diaper, he heard the sound of some kind of rock music in the distance.

“Boys! There is a concert that we are missing! We need to check it out!”

When they finally arrived, Itto frowned, realizing that he could not take a baby to the concert with such loud music. 

“Boss! Where are you going?”

“I will be right back!” Itto ran away, holding his son's ears.

And he truly came back in a few minutes with a sleeping baby in the carrier and big noise-canceling headphones on his little head.

Not long after it was time for dinner, the whole gang visited the local market with freshly cooked food. The place was crowded, but it was worth it to stay there for all the delicious meals they offered there.

“Oh, sorry big guy, I am leaving crumbles all over your head.” Itto looked down and realized that the carrier was empty. “In the name of the lavender melon, no!” Itto screamed.

He immediately gathered everyone from the gang to look for his son. Itto was never afraid of anything. Except beans. And his wife. And if she finds out that he lost little Oni, there would be no Oni left after she is done with him.

In the meantime, Kuki looked after the baby, because she saw Itto had been occupied with ordering food. When she saw all the boys running around the market like headless chickens, she realized that someone had forgotten that the baby was with her. After letting them marinate in fear she finally took mercy on them and brought the baby back to the big Oni.

“Kuki! Where did you find him?!” Itto kissed his son´s face. “You just saved my life Shinobu!” He reached out to her to do the same, but she immediately stopped him.

“Just say thank you, Boss.” She smiled.

“Thank you! And…” Itto lowered his voice. “Do not tell my wife. She would have me sleep on the couch. No cuddles for me for the rest of the month. Can you imagine?”

Cyno

You were never into the idea of Cyno training your daughter. But he kept begging you and you knew that he would not put your child in any danger, so today, with a heavy heart, you finally let them go. 

“But only for a moment, before work. Ok?” You looked at him with worry.

Cyno could not contain his excitement as he sat down with his girl on his forearm and left your house with a bright smile. He was toying with the idea of going behind your back, but he quickly brushed it. He respected and loved you too much to do something like that.

Now, after waiting for so long Cyno was on his way with the child holding him around the neck. With a bag full of water and snacks on his back, he reached his favorite spot where he used to train by himself when he was just a kid.

“Here we are!” Cyno smiled at his girl. “Now Daddy is going to put you down and we can fight a little. What do you think?”

“You are going to lose!” The little girl, barely school age, said with a confident smirk.

“Why do you sound just like your mommy?” Cyno chuckled.

He knew his daughter had the soul of a fighter, just like her parents, but she still surprised him. Every stance, every move… She quickly adapted and Cyno´s heart was full when he saw her reaching for his polearm.

“One day it will be all yours. Mine gift only for you. But not today, ok?”

A silent cry was her answer and Cyno knew it was time to go.

“Someone is a little cranky. How about we head back to the village.” He said to himself and packed the stuff that he brought.

With a tired child positioned on his forearm with small hands wrapped around his neck again, Cyno headed back to civilization. Now and then he stopped to show her beautiful flowers that were typical for this part of the world and explained them to her. With each stop, the little girl was less and less interested in the fauna that her father was showing her.

“That is ok.” He mumbled. “We have the whole life ahead of us to teach you everything I know.” Cyno smiled proud of being able to share his wisdom with his own blood.

When they finally reached the village, Cyno settled in his office after he tucked his daughter on the small sofa in the next room. After dealing with the most important tasks of the day, you surprised him with lunch and a plan to take your daughter home with you.

“A meal for our child. Take it as an exchange type of business.” You laughed.

“But she was supposed to be with me the whole day,” Cyno argued with an upset look all over his face.

“You are about to head out. You thought that I would let you take her to visit criminals?” You raised your brow.

“I would not… You shelter her too much.”

“So do you. Just in a different way.” 

You kissed him and with a smile, you left with your sleeping child in your arms.

Cyno wanted to argue that he did not know what you meant by that, but he knew all too well. Since he held her for the first time, he could not stop imagining the day when he would no longer be there to protect her. If there is only one thing that he would be able to accomplish in his life, it would be to teach his daughter to protect herself like he protects both of you.

Ayato

Ayato always took pride in his family. First, his sister. Then he met you. When you blessed him with your yes, he hardly could have imagined to be even happier than he already was. Proud husband of the most beautiful and intelligent woman he ever met. But then your son was born. His world, his heart expanded and there was not a moment when he would not talk about the two of you. Everything crushed when he visited you in the garden as he came back home after his work travels. As he reached for you to kiss you, your son tried to push him away. 

Ayato froze.

“Oh, do not mind him.” You smiled. “You have been gone a little too long this time and maybe he just needs to get used to you being around again.” You tried to reassure him as you hugged him tightly.

Ayato smiled at you and got down on his knee to hug his son. You knew it was not a good idea, but did not interfere. As expected, the boy pushed him and ran away. 

“I got used to it, but he is too small to accept the concept of someone traveling for days without him. Give him time.” You comforted your husband.

“You are right, my dear.” Ayato hugged you around your waist. “As always.” He smiled.

“Maybe you can show him what you do, hm?” 

“You mean… Like to take him to work with me? What a strange idea.”

“Trust me.” You silenced him with a kiss.

The next morning, Ayato was already prepared to start his day before dawn when he remembered your proposal. When he opened the door to his son's bedroom, he found him deep in the sleep. Since that moment, Ayato felt like he had done everything wrong. He woke his son and tried to make him dress up for the day.

“Shhh, we do not want to wake up your mommy.” Ayato tried to calm the boy politely.

After exhausting fighting in the bedroom, it was finally time for the real fight. Ayato did not want to miss his daily morning sword training.

“I have got something for you.” Ayato handed his son a beautifully packed box. 

When the boy smiled, Ayato felt a deep relief. Until the boy opened the box where he found a perfectly crafted wooden sword from the highest quality wood ever found. Ayato expected to see his son´s face to light up as yours always does when he brings you gifts from his travels. But the boy looked at him with disappointment written all over his face. He never showed any interest in the art of swords, but Ayato kept telling himself that it was just a matter of time. 

Ayato tried to train for an hour that felt like an eternity, but his son did not want to cooperate. All he got was a huge bruise on his shin after the boy swung his new sword with the power of a grown man.

Your husband tried to keep his composure in front of you during breakfast and your questions about his weird walk were not answered. You knew all too well what happened because the screams of your son were probably heard by the whole island so you checked on them. 

“We will be in my office if you need anything.” Ayato kissed you and picked up the boy.

“Are you sure?” You smiled knowing just by looking at your husband how tired he was.

“Yes, my dear. Have some faith in me.” 

You wanted to, but knowing your son´s hyperactivity and Ayato´s need for peace and order… It was like a clash of titans and you wanted to help. Then you realize it is time for Ayato to step up as a father. To show your son the right example of a good man. So you stayed away. Even after hours of listening to constant running around the office, tearing sound of the papers, knocking down decorations… Until you heard the last knock. The doors of Ayato's office suddenly opened. When he saw you, he did not say a thing. He did not need to. His clothes were drenched from ink. Ayato disappeared for a moment so you peeked into his office and found it in complete disarray. Your boy was sitting there playing with an empty bottle of ink so you started picking up all the loose papers.

“Leave it. Please.” Ayato said out of nowhere. “I will take care of it later. Now is time for a little walk.”

Dressed in clean clothes he reached for his son and left. Your heart almost sank. It was not funny anymore and all you could do was to hope that their relationship would get better as soon as possible.

Ayato felt completely lost. How is it possible that he could make a deal even with the worst diplomats that this world has and he is not able to find a common ground with his own son?

As he walked down the lane full of Sakuras that he used to walk by with you by his side when he was still courting you, lost in his thoughts, the boy started shouting.

“Mommy, mommy!” 

Ayato turned over to look for you, but they were alone. “Mommy is home. She is not here.”

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” The little boy kept shouting while reaching for something.

Ayato looked up and realized that all the boy wants are the flowers blooming on the trees. So he reached up to pick a few and handed them to the little one. The boy instantly got quiet and looked almost… content.

“Mommy. Yes, little man. You are right.” Ayato smiled. 

How could he possibly forget? On one of your walks, he picked a Sakura flower and put it in your hair. Since then, you always wear some once in a while to remind you of your beginnings.

“Let us go back and bring Mommy your gift. Ok?”

When they finally reached the borders of your home, the little boy started running towards the gardens. He spotted you immediately in your usual place and with a loud mumbling of random words he gifted you a beautiful bouquet of pink flowers.

“Wau! What a beautiful gift.” You kissed your proud son on his head as a thank you. “Did you pick them all by yourself?”

“No!” A loud shout filled the peaceful garden. “Daddy! Daddy, help!” The little boy shouted as he ran to Ayato and hugged him tightly around his leg.

“Oh? What a good daddy!” You smiled and looked at your husband. You would swear that you spotted tears in his eyes. 

Ayato was looking at you, unable to look away. No matter how hard his day was, he knew he would not want it any other way. Then he looked down at his son still hugging his leg and realized that he is going to be tall like him. He could not know it for sure, but he just knew. Tall just like him, with the hair of his beautiful mother and eyes in a perfect blend of both of you.

As he sat down next to you with your son in his lap, all he could think about was how thankful he was for being made to slow down and appreciate your work for your family. He always admired you for being a perfect wife and mother. But after this day, he was thankful even more and promised to take at least one day off to be with both of you.

Ayato that night held you and kissed you with so much care and love just like the day you gave him your son. He forgot for a moment that family will always be the most important thing. And he will never forget again.

[thelikesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

REC LIST NUMBER 7! I’m finally home so I can finally share with you the over three months worth of Buddie fics that I have read to keep me sane while I was traveling around the UK.  As always, please show these authors some love in their comments xx Find my other Buddie Rec Lists HERE

REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

What's Easy is Right by @half_bakedboy | G | 18k

Buck romances Eddie the way that he deserves. It was so refreshing to read a fic like this where everything just goes right for them. They just get to fall in love and be happy without any conflict or "big bad thing" arising. They were allowed to just be in love and happy and I love that so much <3

my man says he loves me (never says he loves me not) by @colonoscopys | G | 1.9k

Buck and Eddie unknowingly commiserate with each other through a website entitled: inlovewithmybestfriendandgoingtodie.com! This fic is absolutely incredible. I could literally cry, it's so good!!

loves a game, wanna play? by @exhuastedpigeon | M | 57k

Love Island AU. In the aftermath of Chris leaving for the summer, Buck convinces Eddie they should apply for Love Island together. I have never watched Love Island, or ever wanted to, but if this fic was a real season I would EAT. IT. UP!

Eddie vs Romance by @littlespoonevan | T | 27k

This lovely two-part series in which Eddie does a lot of self-learning and then gets romanced as he deserves. 

Too Often the Power of Touch is Underestimated by @xjustlikeyou | T | 15k

Five times a touch knocked Eddie off his feet, and the one time he got to return the favor. I have no words to describe how wholly and profoundly perfect this fic is to me. This is THEE Buddie touch-centric w/ pining Eddie fic of all time!

Until the Dancing Ends by @phoenix-angel-suyari  | G | 4k

Eddie finally sees footage of Buck's reaction to him getting buried in the well and Eddie reacts proportionately by kissing him in front of everyone. So, so good!

i'm here with the door wide open by @eddiebabygirldiaz| T | 24k

Eddie copes with the absence of Chris but also the presence of Buck. I adore this fic, Eddie finally learning to allow himself to feel things and to accept that he deserves to love and be loved in return and that what he feels for Buck doesn't need to be stamped down and hidden. The ending is so beautifully soft too! 

you're almost home (i've been waiting for you to come in) by @sibylsleaves | E | 24k 

Buck breaks up with Taylor, moves out of the loft and in with Eddie. Let the Buddie Roommates and Pining Era begin! As all of Sibyl’s fics are this is just incredible and I devoured it!

the tortured poets department by @colonoscopys | E | 18k 

The first time Buck touched him, Eddie blew an ambulance up AKA Eddie has magic and a lot of complicated feelings about his best friend.

there ain't no turning back by @42hrb | E | 28k

After dropping Chris off at College, Eddie begins his journey home only Buck to fly out to crash his Sad Dad Cross Country Road Trip™. This fic made me feel a hundred billion emotions so strongly. Incredible.

Hot Ghost Problems by @ebjameston | T | 40k 

Not Actually Dead™ Ghost!Buck and Witch!Eddie. This fic is actually incredible! 10/10. Five Stars.

Season of Hope (After the Flood) by @saryasy | T | 58k

Eddie learns a lot about himself while waiting for his son to come home. The pinning and beautiful, KARENEDDIE BESTIE-ISM FOR THE WIN! And a beautiful tender happy ending xx 

the going water and the gone by @try-set-me-on-fire | T | 31k

Eddie Diaz presumed dead? Again? More likely than you think. I live for these sorts of fics and this one set Post Cruise Ship is so good!! 

come and be my baby by @colonoscopys | T | 21k

What is Buck and Eddie got together in season 2? This made me laugh and cry and feel all kinds of emotions and it's just so beautiful!!!!!!!

ice cream before dinner by cloudydaisies | T | 58k

This fic really doesn’t need any introduction because I think we are all obsessed. GIRL UNCLE!EDDIE + ICE CREAM TUESDAYS ❤️

bottle episode by @transboybuckley | T & E | 14k

The 118 has a 24-hour shift, and zero calls. The softest bottle episode, full of Firefam love, Buddie, and which is somehow also about crying over trees.

when everything's on fire by @glowingyears | T | 15k

Eddie and Chris move into the loft with Buck after a house fire and then they buy a house together. SO COZY SO LOVELY THERE IS JUST SO MUCH LOVE IN THIS FIC.

From the Ground Up by @blueberrytwoberry | M | 17k

Eddie finds a massive dog on his porch and can’t seems to get rid of it. THE DOG IS BUCK! BUCK IS A DOG! DOG BUCK! 

cold rain, warm skin by @gayhoediaz | T | 2.5k

Just the softest coziest morning kisses ever known to man <3

death wish love by @eddiebabygirldiaz | E | 15k

After his break up with Tommy, Buck goes to Eddie's, he wakes up the next morning only to be pummeled by his hangover and his attraction to Eddie. No words can possibly describe the soft comfortable and loving cocoon that this fic creates.

We Both Go Down Together by @xylodemon | T | 4k

A near death/drowning experience, a love confession and hospital pronounced husbands, what's not to love!?!

[sweetimpurity]

Sometimes I have ideas for fics but not enough will-power to write the whole thing out all the way. This is one condensed haha ⬇️

not proofread 🥴

Earth-928

You're out to dinner with your bf Miguel. It's been such a nice night and you've been together so long. You think tonight is the night. He's gonna propose. His job as Spiderman does take him away from you a lot of the time. You tend to spend a lot of time missing him. Wishing he'd make more time for you. Make you his priority. That's the only doubt you'd have when it comes to spending your life with the man but other than that, you know you want it.

He took you for a walk on the beach, then to your favorite restaurant to end the night. You've just ordered your food when his comm watch get's a notification. A red alert emergency. Green Goblin in downtown Manhattan tearing up half a city block and blowing things up. Scaring civilians, injuring many.

"Babe... I'm so sorry... I think I have to go." He says, a growing sense of dread washing over him. And then he looks up to see that look of disappointment in your eyes. The heartbreak.

"You... are you sure, really?" Your voice breaks his heart. He sighs, looking down at the alerts coming in from Lyla. One after the other.

"I'm so sorry... I promise I'll be back as soon as I can..." He says, getting up from the table and kneeling in front of you, taking your hands into his. It breaks your heart even more watching him do that. Seeing him kneel. Except he's not proposing, he's leaving.

"You'll be my number one babe... when I get back I promise..." He says. But the words just make you feel so empty. "I promise... I love you. Wait up for me." He says, letting your hands go and stepping back. Sending an alert to Lyla that he's on the case and he's coming. "I love you babe..." He says again, stepping back and watching you. Wanting to hear you say it back. But you don't. You just watch him go. Heartbroken. Feeling so small, so unimportant. Unwanted.

He eventually has to just let it go and turn to leave. Passing by some people in the restaurant and leaving the restaurant. Trying his best to just keep going. To get this done and then he can be with you. But this has become a pattern as of late.

He gets outside the restaurant, getting to an alleyway and scaling the building, climbing to the top and pressing on the pod to make his suit expand and cover his body. Nanotech glowing up to his jawline and eventually closing over his face in fire red and dark blue.

He swings off to tend to the issue. To stop whatever's going on. Save the city. Again.

You wait for him for an hour. Sitting there like an idiot. Like a fool. Before deciding you deserve better than this. You ask the waiter to pack up the food and pay the bill. Three years you've been with this man. And this sort of thing just happens?

You grab your stuff, getting up to leave. Figuring you'll just go home and eat that ice cream in the freezer. Maybe call your mom or your best friend and get some reassurance or cry. Passing by people leaving the restaurant, you leave the building, walking down the sidewalk a few yards before-

"Baby!" He calls. The familiar sounds of a portal opening accompanying his voice. You look over and there's Miguel walking up to you from the alleyway next to the restaurant. Oh. You think. Here he is? "Hey-"

"You have to come with me. Right now baby. The anomaly, it's worse than we thought. We have to go, this dimension is gonna go!" He explains frantically, his voice slightly muffled by the mask you recognize so well on his face. He comes over, instantly taking both of your hands in his. The cool feeling of his suit on your warm skin. Really? You have to leave now? He said this sort of thing could happen at some point. But the chance was rare because he's always do everything he could before letting the dimension collapse. He's been gone for an hour and now the dimension is suddenly collapsing?

But if he says so, then you'd trust him. "Come on baby. We'll be safe you just have to come with me." He starts walking backwards towards the portal, holding onto your hands. It's not your first time going through a portal with him. It's a weird sort of tingly feeling.

"Okay okay" You nod, shocked by this sudden turn of events; walking with him and looking back on the world you know. The dimension you've lived in all your life. The place you've both shared a life in too. But if he'll be with you then everything should be fine.

He leads you through the portal, his big hand on the small of your back as he helps you through to the other side. The portal closing with a flash of glitching light. The alleyway falls silent. Not a sound.

An hour passes. The restaurant closes, everyone goes home. Your boyfriend swings back to the restaurant. Feeling like such a dick for leaving you like that. Leaving you when he too knew that this was supposed to be a special night. He gets to the restaurant. Finding it closed. "Damn it." He sighs. Pacing back and forth. "Lyla, is y/n back at the apartment?" He says. Walking down the sidewalk a bit.

"I can't track her phone right now. She either lost signal or turned the tracker off herself." She says.

"Damn it." He huffs again. Sighing and staring out at the street. His brow furrowing at what's before him. It's the car. His car. The one you both took to the restaurant tonight. Why is it still here if you're not?

"Lyla. What was her last recorded location?" He asks, staring at the car parked on the street. His mind flooded with possibilities. "Right here. Literally right where you're standing." She says, looking over the data.

He looks around. This doesn't make sense. "Track her again." He says.

"I can't-"

"Try again! Try something else! Street cameras! Surveillance footage! Something!" He yells in frustration and anger. Scowling and look around. Lyla sighs, pulling up the footage from the cameras on this street after hacking into their systems. Scrubbing through the footage.

"Let me see." He demands, looking at the holographic screen as Lyla displays it. There you are, leaving the restaurant. He winces, watching you leaving the place in defeat. Knowing this is his fault. But then he watches you stop, looking down the alleyway next to the restaurant. A flash of glitching light and then it looks like you're talking to someone.

You're definitely talking to someone. He check the time on the footage. It was about an hour ago. An hour ago you started talking to someone in the alley and then-

"What is she doing?" He mumbles, eyes widening when he sees you join hands with someone. The person that's taking up all your attention. "Zoom in Lyla." He demands.

The footage isn't super clear, it never is on these cheap street cameras. But he can see it. When the figure turns around, leading you down the alleyway. It's him. Himself? He can see the red and blue marking of his own suit. He's watching a video of himself leading you down an alleyway into what he can only assume is a portal. A portal to lord knows where. With a version of himself that's pretending to be the one you know.

[holybibly]

I'm so embarrassed to be asking this but I'm super horny after reading your posts...

I followed you without even knowing it myself...

but

I realised I've got a daddy kink and yunho mingi and san now know about it...🥺

It's totally okay if you can't write it!🫶

I make you feel like horny bunnies, don't I? What am I going to do about it, darlings?"

"Do you like your gift, princess?" Yunho's voice is soft as he places his large hand on your neck, his thumb running along the thin, delicate chain. The gold chain, with his and San's initials on it, jingles slightly as he touches it, glistening in the light.

You are sitting comfortably on top of Yunho's thick thighs, your bare legs wrapped around his waist, while your hands are fiddling with the smooth tie around his neck. He is so comfortable to sit on; he is so tall and magnificent. How did you get to be so lucky as to have him all to yourself? And not just to him—San's strong arms wrap around your waist, and you lean back against his strong chest and literally melt into his arms.

"I really like it, Daddy." The words you speak are full of sincerity. Having powerful and stunningly handsome men like San and Yunho worship and care for you is a true dream come true. They are always ready to reassure you that they love to pamper and spoil you with everything they have, should you ever doubt whether you are worthy of their attention. Both of them are willing to do anything for you and to buy you anything you want to make sure that their sweet little princess is happy and well fed.

They are even willing to swallow some of their selfishness and possessiveness in order to get along with each other for your sake. They don't like it very much, and sometimes the air between them can be tense. But in a way, they also care for each other, perhaps more than they let on.

"Thank you, daddy." You tug lightly on Yunho's black tie, pulling his face closer so that you can kiss him gently on his soft, beautiful lips. "Thank you very much, sir." You lift your head and do the same to San. But before you can pull away, San catches your lips in his for a deeper, hotter kiss that takes the air out of your lungs. He grabs hold of the back of your neck and throws your head back so he can swallow you whole. When he pulls away, you're a little dazed. San's kisses always make you feel dizzy. San's love language is long, sensual kisses that always turn into a worship of your body with his lips and tongue. Each time he kisses you, he sends you up into the ninth cloud of pleasure.

A thin, silver strand of saliva connects the two of you until San runs his thumb roughly over your bottom, shining pink lip. He presses lightly against the soft flesh in a silent command. San chuckles softly as you obediently open your mouth to allow your tongue to wrap around the pad of his thumb.

"Our beautiful princess deserves nothing but the best." San whispers, watching with delight as your kitten tongue sweetly licks his finger while you look up at him with big, shining eyes. To him, you are a real treasure.

Yunho pulls impatiently at your hips so that San's thumb slips out of your warm, wet mouth. Yunho's big hand comes back to rest on your throat, and he leans forward, brushing his lips gently against yours for a moment before he slides his hot tongue into your mouth. You let out a long moan into his lips as you felt warm and insistent hands dancing over your body from behind you. The kiss is dirty and sloppy, just the way Yunho likes it to be. You can always feel the difference between them. San is quiet and calm; he slowly drives you crazy with his touches, preferring to prolong the pleasure for hours. Yunho, on the other hand, is passionate, hot, and impatient; he likes to take you rough and fast. He was like an icy flame, while San was like scorching ice.

Your lips were swollen and red as he pulled back to lick your mouth, and taking advantage of your distraction, San slipped his fingers under the waistband of your lace panties.

"You're so wet for us, baby. Always ready to please us." You can hear the smirk in San's voice as he runs his fingers over your slit in an almost lazy manner.

Yunho loosens the tie around his neck, and this seemingly ordinary act makes you start to salivate. The gaze of his dark eyes is completely focused on your face, which is now frozen with an expression of sweet pleasure. Your body becomes almost boneless, and you lean further back against San's hard, muscular chest as his fingers separate your labia, spreading the fluid that has collected between them over your delicate folds.

"Keep your eyes open, my sweet princess." San's voice is hoarse and full of desire as his hot breath hits your ear. Your eyes close at the pleasure his fingers give you. He's supporting your entire body weight, even though you're sitting on Yunho's lap, and his other hand is gently squeezing your breast, pulling down the thin lace of your bra, and exposing your swollen pink nipple to your daddy's dark gaze. He continues: "Keep your eyes on Yunho while Sir makes you cum on his fingers, Princess. Do you understand what I mean?"

As you followed your sir's instructions, your eyes immediately opened. Yunho has already removed his tie, which you partly regret; the first few buttons of his white shirt are undone, revealing his milky smooth skin, where hickeys always look too beautiful for your mind; and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. You admire his bare forearms, which allow you to shamelessly observe the muscles and veins that flex just beneath the skin. His normally sparkling puppy-dog eyes are dark with lust, hungrily drinking in every move you make, every change in the expression on your face, and every sweet little sound that escapes from your parted lips.

You spread your legs a little wider so that Yunho can get a better view of your wet, pink pussy. His eyes quickly moved from your pretty face to your barely covered cunt. Your sheer white lace panties are soaking wet from your excitement and are pushed to the side to make way for San's long and skilled fingers.

San plants hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses on your neck, biting and sucking hard on your skin as you tilt your head to the side to give him more access. At some point in your relationship, you realized that San had an oral fixation, and this fact was a pleasant bonus for you.

"Oh, sir, I feel so good. You make me feel so good." You whimper loudly, digging your long, manicured nails into the fabric of Yunho's white shirt. You moan as San slides two long fingers into your wet cunt and curls them up until you can almost see the stars in the sky.

"Don't close your eyes, baby; let your daddy enjoy the slutty look on your sweet face." You obediently look at Yunho, and your pussy involuntarily clenches around San's fingers as you see him look. You feel the searing heat of desire pooling and spreading throughout your body as Yunho seems to be devouring every inch of you.

Yunho leans forward, his face hovering just a few inches above yours. His eyes are so dark that the pupils seem to absorb the warm chocolate irises almost completely. He touches your lips with two fingers, and you immediately open your mouth to him and lift your face to his.

"You are such a beautiful princess and such an obedient girl for us to have." Yunho whispers in a hoarse voice before spitting into your waiting mouth. A glob of saliva slips along the length of your tongue, and you quickly swallow it, drawing a hum of approval from San, who is still marking your neck with his lips, and a low groan from Yunho. His hand lands on your neck once more, forcing San to finally stop sucking on the crimson hickeys on your delicate skin, and he presses his lips to yours.

It's messier than the first time you kissed, and even hotter and messier. Yunho's tongue is hungrily licking the inside of your mouth as drool starts to collect at the corners of your mouth. He slides his hand between your bodies, the pads of his fingers circling your sensitive clit. San's fingers slide along the quivering soft walls of your needy cunt, curling and hitting that special spot inside you that leaves you breathless and your toes curling. 

The firm pressure of Yunho's fingers rubbing against your clit and the way San's fingers push deep into your dripping cunt, causing your sweet juices to drip down his fingers and onto his palm and wrist, quickly bring you to the edge.

"Be a good girl and cum for us, Princess." San's words send you over the edge, and you cum loudly, moaning their names as you do so. You bury your face in Yunho's neck and ride out your orgasm, your hips jerking at their touches. Their fingers are persistent and never stop moving. They prolong the stimulation and practically make you come a second time. It's only when you're on the verge of overstimulation and you're whimpering softly that they slow down. But they don't remove their fingers; instead, they stimulate you with slow, lazy strokes.

"You look so goddamn hot when you cum, Princess." You giggle a little while Yunho just rolls his eyes as San sucks on your neck once more, leaving another hickey on your skin.

"And you will look even hotter and more beautiful when you cum on our dicks, don't you, Princess?" Yunho asks.

"Yes, Daddy, I will do everything I can to make you and Sir happy with my view."

[purple-writer8]

Suburban Legends - ACOTAR

Azriel x Winter Court Reader

“When you hold me, it holds me together.”

warnings: unrequited love, pining, evil thoughts, intrusive thoughts, lesser fae thinks shes not enough, hating on girl, self doubt, self loathing, reader is a handful, ice powers, groping, lesser fae slander

1.7k words

Part Two to Heather

Masterlist :)

He kissed you. Azriel kissed you. And then you winnowed away, because he kissed you in a way that you knew would screw you up forever. Because Azriel could never love you. You were not soft like Elain, were not some soft baker with beautiful High Fae features.

No. You were just a winterling. A lesser fae that iced everything around her. You paced the House of Wind, paced and paced through the entire manor— scared out of your mind of seeing Azriel again. Why would he kiss you?

Your mind raced and raced and raced.

Azriel deserved someone better than you, he deserved Elain. Not some winterling that got jealous because of a sweater, jealous and you two weren’t even together. Oh, you were so embarrassed— you wanted to die. You got a quick snack in the kitchen, thanking the house for it, and then you rushed up to your room.

Cauldron, you would die of embarrassment if you saw Azriel.

The way that he kissed you, it killed you, because you knew that you were doomed. How were you supposed to live now that you had tasted him? He had kissed you out of pity, you were sure. Or maybe he just didn’t know what to do.

As you ate your chips and dip, you noticed a shadow slithering underneath your door. You ignored it. He probably just wanted to know if you were freaking out or something.

You heard footsteps outside your door and froze when they stopped in front of it. You whispered a curse when your plate with your snack turned to ice, you really had to start controlling your powers.

A knock sounded against the wood of your door, and you wanted to die. You could feel the ice appearing through your body, invading your skin as it did whenever you were in distress— a winterling defense mechanism. You remained silent, unmoving, and after not answering the door for minutes, the shadow and it’s singer left— footsteps disappearing down the hall.

You were tempted to run out of your room and go after him but you were never going to do that. You would die of embarrassment if Azriel simply rejected you, telling you that he only kissed you because he felt bad.

-

Azriel knocked on your door every night for an entire week, maybe to reject you, or maybe to send you on a mission. You were not sure, but you had barricaded yourself in your room. If you were needed for a mission, Rhysand would reach you, you were sure. Your room had turned into a winter wonderland, your anxiety making your ice powers almost uncontrollable— and frankly unbearable. You were sure you had frost bite by now.

A knock sounded to your door, and instantly you turned to it, watching for the shadow that would always check on you when Azriel came. But no shadow appeared. “Darling? It’s me.”

Surely you could die from embarrassment when you heard the High Lord outside your door. You whimpered when more ice manifested from your fingertips, it fucking hurt and you were sure your fingers could be thawed off your hands any moment now.

Dark majestic talons caressed your mind, and you were tempted to let them in— but instead reinforced the walls that kept Rhysand out, because how fucking embarrassing is it to let your High Lord see how you’ve iced your entire room just because a guy doesn’t want you.

You are supposed to be better than that. But you weren’t.

“Open the door,” the High Lord ordered, and you complied.

His violet eyes widened when he took in the state of your room. “I… What… I… Ice.” Was all he managed to say as he stepped into the room, shivering as the cold hit him.

You smiled awkwardly, unnaturally, “hey.”

“So when Cassian said you turned his room into ice… he meant this?” Rhysand asked and you nodded, awkwardly shifting your weight on your feet. His eyes took in your form and you almost covered your face, but you didn’t. Because the one person who knew all your flaws and ugliness was your High Lord, and he accepted you that way.

It wasn’t a pretty sight when you lost control. As a winterling lesser, the powers that you had were all ice ones. You could wield ice from your fingertips, and when distress happened upon your body— ice bloomed through your flesh, because your blood turned cold. You weren’t good at controlling them; so when anxiety hit you, your veins turned black and you froze everything around you.

Every vein in your body was noticeable, your eyes were white, and you were covered in ice.

Rhysand was probably disgusted by you.

“Azriel says you’ve been cooped up here since game night. Says you won’t open the door for him.” Rhysand stated as he looked around your room, blinking slowly as he took in all of your belongings being frozen.

“For him. But I opened the door for you,” you answered sheepishly.

“He let me know what happened… that night when he went to get you outside… I…” You put your hand up when he said those words.

“I know. I know. He doesn’t like me. I was stupid to complain about a sweater. I mean, my audacity, right?” You laughed dryly. Rhysand frowned, eyeing you— then eyeing your room.

With a snap of his fingers, your room was back to normal. “We’re going out to Rita’s tonight, join us,” Rhysand stated simply, and you were about to decline, but his stern gaze told you that it was a command— not a suggestion.

“I would much rather stay in,” you try anyways. Rhysand shakes his head. “So you could drown in ice and self pity? Get a grip, darling.”

You don’t admit that it hurts. It was not self pity, it was self hate, loathing. You ultimately nod, because you know he is not gonna let you just wallow in your sadness even though it’s all that you want. “Talk to him,” Rhysand said before winnowing away.

You scoffed at nothing. Absolutely not. If he rejected you, which you were sure he would, it would cause you more self hate than you could ever deal with.

You got ready that night in your usual attire. Glittering gowns with diamonds that resembled little snowflakes, reminiscent of your origins. You would look at the clock as you did your hair, and when ten pm rolled around and Azriel did not knock like every other night that week— your whole life was ruined.

At eleven you called for Rhysand in your mind so he could take you down to Rita’s and that he did, though the flight was silent. You were not very fond of him ordering you to hang out when you were miserable.

At Rita’s, you wanted to die.

Azriel was there, sitting silently next to Elain. And instantly your evil mind was hoping she got poisoned by the cocktail she was gently and elegantly sipping.

You truly were unlovable and unlikeable, huh?

You could feel those hazel eyes on you, though no shadows came to greet you. You did not dare meet his gaze because you were sure you would hurl ice all over the floor, so you rushed to find your High Lady and Mor who were chatting by the bar.

They greeted you happily, chatting you up over things you could care less about— because how could you focus when you could see everyone fawning over the shadowsinger in your peripheral vision. He was so magnetic to every fae that it was almost obnoxious.

Feyre started talking about the mating bond with Mor, indulging her in a debate about whether all mates were meant to be. All you could do was fantasize about you and Azriel, mismatched as you may be, surprising the whole court by being mates.

A fae can dream.

A male appeared out of the blue— a handsome male— and he asked you to dance. You indulged him. It was better than standing there pretending to care about Feyre and Mor’s conversation. You loved them, but your mind was elsewhere.

The male danced to the music, swaying along with you, his eyes focused on your white ones. “Shit… I can imagine you sucking my cock with those looking up at me… a perfect lesser fuck,” you gasped at his lewd words because, what the fuck?!

Your heart thudded and you smelled danger, so you gave him an awkward smile and stepped back from him, only for him to snake one strong arm around your waist, tugging you close. “I-Uh, have to go,” you chuckled nervously, looking around for your friends, though the sea of people dancing made it near impossible for you to see their usual booth.

“What does a little lesser like you have to do that is better than being with me?” He asked, leaning down to your ear, an act that sent shivers down your spine. Fear. Which was stupid because you were a spy for the Night Court, you could handle him.

Before you could even snap at him, his hand groped your behind, causing you to gasp and push him away— but in that moment he was stronger, so he tugged you right back to his bulky body. “Who do you think you are?” You scoffed at him, a snarl on your face.

“I’m taking you home tonight, lesser.”

“Over my dead body.” The man stumbled backwards as he looked over your shoulder, to the shadowsinger that had appeared between the crowd. Every fae in the room turned to look at Azriel, at the icy rage that surfaced on his perfect face. He parted the crowd as he stood there, his wings tucked tight as he glared at the High Fae that had been harassing you.

A comforting shadow slinked to you, wrapping around your icy wrist gently. Its gentleness was a stark contrast to the sheer anger it’s master exuded from his being.

“Fuck… I didn’t know… didn’t know she was yours, shadowsinger.”

“Now you know not to fucking touch my mate.”

-

Part Three

Author’s Note:

this definitely needs a part three i know

General Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs

Series Taglist: @illiicits @dee-writes-smut @going-through-shit @saltedcoffeescotch @evergreenlark

[uraveragelonelysapphic]

welcome to my masterlist! here, you'll find everything i've ever written! enjoy!

Marvel

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Another Love- You meet Wanda at a grief group, as she’s struggling to heal after Vision’s death. Will you help her heal? Will your friendship grow into something more?

Under the Weather- You’re not feeling the greatest, but your girlfriend is there to nurse you back to health.

A Happy Ending- Wanda has to choose between you and Vision. But will she make the right choice?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Keep You Warm- You are stuck in a freezing cold safe-house in Alaska, but luckily Nat is there to provide you with some warmth.

Not a Monster- After coming home from Wakanda, you meet a certain red head recovering from rejection and show her she’s capable of being loved.

Rocky Road- After Bruce disappears, abandoning Nat, you help put the pieces of her broken heart back together. When Bruce comes back from Ragnarok and professes his love for Nat, will she reject him? Or will she break your heart and run back into his arms?

No More Hiding- You’re a super soldier fresh out of the ice, so it’s your first pride month. And you get to spend it with your girlfriend.

Enough- After Wanda cheats on you, you’re heartbroken. Luckily Nat is there to pick up the pieces.

All I Ever Asked- Promises are hard to keep as an avenger.

Yelena Belova x Reader

Always- You have a nightmare about your days in the Red Room, but Yelena is there to comfort you.

Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x reader

Proud- After a not so pleasant dinner with your homophobic mother, your girlfriends are there to give you the support you need.

When They Remembered- Wanda and Nat forget your birthday. But will they remember before it’s too late?

Part 2

Take Care of You- You’re sick, but luckily your girlfriends are there to help.

Deserve- Sometimes your doubts and insecurities become too much to handle. But your girlfriends will always be there to remind you how much you mean to them.

Invisible- You feel invisible, and your powers don’t help with that fact. Can two redheads and a team of superheroes change that feeling?

Wanda Maximoff x Yelena Belova x reader

Starting Anew- You lost your mom. Yelena and Wanda lost a mentor figure. But can something good come from all this loss?

Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova x Reader

Festivities- Yelena has never had a normal Christmas before. Time for her girlfriends to give her the best one yet!

Soteria- You struggle with being kept a secret by the team and the insecurities of not being good enough. After a hostage situation, your girlfriends reassure you of your worth.

Rio Vidal x Reader

Gentle Love- She may be Lady Death, but to you, she is your sweet love.

Home- She's fading away from you. Is the love you two share enough?

Part 2

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Lavender- Nature had always been your life. How fitting that it could now cause your death.

Miscellaneous

Colt Seavers x Reader

Danger- you have an issue with your boyfriend’s addiction to danger. he doesn’t see the problem. but will he see it when the shoe is on the other foot?

Colt Seavers x Jody Moreno x Reader

Sane- You’re going crazy on a miserable set with a miserable director. Thank goodness you have two wonderful things that keep you sane.

Shelby Goodkind x Toni Shalifoe x Reader

Calm in the Storm- You are not okay. But you are also not alone.

Calliope Burns x Reader

Only You- you and Calliope had something going on that had yet to be labeled. so when your friend Juliette starts to take a liking to the girl, should you be concerned?

[madamefeu]

Hi! Here’s what your favorite Hazbin Hotel ship says about you!

Radiodust: You're an old-timer who's been around since the pilot. One off-handed joke about Angel Dust wanting to suck Alastor's dick was all it took for you to start shipping them. You always ship the two most attractive male characters together in your fandoms, even if they have no real connection

Huskerdust: I’m not going to touch this one because I’ll probably get death threats if I don’t tell the Huskerdust fandom exactly what they want to hear

Radiorose: Hello, aro-ace community! You love this because they're the closet thing to a canon queerplatonic couple that currently exists in mainstream media, and as a fellow aro-ace, I’m in the exact same boat

Chaggie: You like the idea of forbidden love, but you're not interested in handling all of the social/political ramifications of it, and would prefer to conveniently gloss over both of those things just like in the show. This ship has the flavor profile of vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips, and so does your personality

Lucifer/Lilith: You only want one thing in this life, and that is for a powerful woman to step on your neck. You are a bottom to end all bottoms

Radioapple: Daddy kink, but in a voyeuristic way. You like watching two dads doing each other, but there is no way you’d ever let them touch you, no, all you want is to watch them go at it

Rosiemilla: Mommy kink, but in a voyeuristic way

Radiohusk: Oh, you would let a man do unspeakable things to you if he was hot enough. You read dark romances and you want a dark romance to happen to you in real life

Cherrisnake: You are absolutely terrible at handling your feelings for everyone you've ever crushed on, and will try to convince yourself that you hate the object of your affections because you lack the courage needed to make a move on them. It would take a life or death situation for you to tell your crush how you really feel about them, and even then you'd be more afraid of telling them than of dying

Guitarspear: Hello, Adam simps! You binge-read workplace romances and you fantasise about dating your boss even though he's a dick 90% of the time. Strangely, the fact that he's a dick makes you even more attracted to him

Staticmoth: Your ideal ship is two horrible people who deserve each other. You want what they have, but at the same time you don't

Zestmilla: Your preferred aesthetic is old married couple core, and I respect that. You binge-read found family fics on AO3, and your favorite tag is hurt/comfort

Radiostatic: You love the idea of someone being obsessed with you when you have no interest in them. You like to laugh at their, quite frankly, pathetic attempts to get you to notice them, and you're waiting for the day when the penny will drop and they'll realise that they are nothing to you, and never will be

Arackpentious: You have never cared about canon, and you don't intend to start now. You probably simp for Sir Pentious and use Arackniss as a self-insert. We know barely any canon information about him, so it's easy for you to project yourself onto him so that you can get doubly-dicked down by the Victorian snake man

Charlastor: You're all about the aesthetic. You got into this ship because there's an abundance of gorgeous fanart for it, even if there's no chance of them being together in canon. You don't care about that, however, because they look beautiful together and that's all that matters to you

Radiomimzy: You wish that the old canon of Mimzy being Alastor's girlfriend was still canon

Royalhalo: You hate Vaggie and you think that Charlie deserves better than her, and who better than the sugary sweet angel who was the first to hear Charlie out and argue in her favor when she found out the truth about the exterminations?

Cherridust: You are aggressively heterosexual and you believe that it is impossible for a man and a woman to be friends without one or both secretly harboring feelings for the other. You binge-read friends to lovers fics on Wattpad, and if a man so much as says hi to a woman, you will ship them

Cherrimoth: You like enemies to lovers, but in a bitch eating crackers kind of way. You either have a crush on someone that you love to hate from afar, or you want to fall in love with someone who hates you from afar

[poppy-metal]

thinking of being a girl art has an intense crush on and abusing it - maybe you're just a spoiled fucking brat parading around as a domme because it's fun to fuck with someone who's so easy - either way - the only way art is allowed to touch you is by eating your pussy. you'll let him drool into your cunt and lap at you for hours, but you won't touch his cock. you think he's cute and pathetic and the fact that he never stands up to you or grows a backbone or even tries to touch you is amusing - if a little disappointing - you realize you can use him to get off and to make yourself feel good about yourself and you don't even have to put yourself out there much. he fucking loves it.

"you love being my little pussy slave, huh?" while he's tongue deep and he just moans into your wet hole and nods and presses a palm against his groin and even though you clench around him you scold him. "don't touch yourself - this is for me, you little slut." and you yank on his curls. arts eyes roll back into his skull and he laps at you more fervently. you can't help but think about what would happen if you pushed him to the brink - if you pushed him far enough that he'd hold you down and shove his cock into you and call you a fucking tease - drill you into his bed with that hot athletes body - but he never does those things. so you keep abusing your authority. if he's not going to check you, you'll just get meaner and meaner. make him feel like a fucking useless toy. rub your pussy against his lips and tongue endlessly until your thighs strangle his ears and as soon as you come down you'll shove him back - fix your clothes and act all cool and unaffected. the lost wounded puppy look he always gives you with his chin wet with your juices makes you smile.

this goes on for months. months of you ignoring art in public and dragging him off into private rooms to shove his face into your cunt and get you off. he always does, eager and fucking amazing with his tongue. he keeps asking you on dates, keeps trying to get to know you - talk to you - but you don't care. you doubt he'd be able to entertain you beyond his mouth, anyway.

it all ends when patrick visits from tour - this dynamic you'd grown comfortable with, in your throne of power. patrick is everything art isn't. intrusive and loud and abrasive and fire to his ice. you can see him getting into arts head - because suddenly art is pushing back. he's giving you rain checks. he's pulling his hand out of your grip and saying he can't right now. he's kissing up your thigh and his hands are wandering and when you slap them away he pops off your clit with a pout - "i can make you feel good - let me touch you." while he rolls your clit under his pink tongue and your brain goes fuzzy. it takes you longer than you'd like to tell him no, to shove his face back into your pussy to shut him up. and he's coming up to you on campus, talking to you like he knows you, bold.

it's all patricks fault - you know it is. art would never act this way otherwise. he was perfectly content to be on his knees for you and nothing else and now all the sudden he's telling you he wants more - that he doesn't like the way you treat him (you roll your eyes) that he deserves better - that he really likes you but he can't keep doing it like this if you don't start giving back.

it makes you angry. angry and petulant and bratty and when you see art talking to his friend and laughing with him on campus you see red. you have to meet this patrick guy yourself, you have to be with him and art in the same room and you have to coax art back over to your side - show him why he likes you best.

if it ends with patrick holding your legs open, pressed to your chest as he goads art into fucking your wet pussy - "c'mon man. she's nothing but a fucking brat - all that bitching and look how soaked she is. that pussy needs some dick to put her in her place." and you can't even fight it, choking around thick fingers in your throat, gagging you. "she fucking wants it. always has. you just need to take it -"

arts cock that you haven't allowed yourself to see - pushing and pressing inside the cunt he's spent half a semester worshipping with his mouth. his eyes rolling back into his head as you suck him right in. "oh fuck -" digging his fingers into the fat of your thighs as he rocks in and out freely. "- how are you so mean with a pussy that feels like this - she's so fucking tight - uhhh -"

"they always are." patrick grins. pushes his fingers against your tongue and tips your head back so you're forced to look up at him. brat meet brat tamer. your eyes are teary and you moan when patrick lets a fat glob of spit drip into your open mouth - wet and degrading. "girls with tight pussies always try to hoard that shit - they want you to go crazy for it. so you'll bend them over and feed them a nice big cock - isn't that right, baby? you all sweet now that artie's forced his dick inside you? huh?"

you can't exactly argue.

[visionsofmagic]

— what he calls you, what you call him. ✷ mk1 edition.

PET NAMES.

— nsfw content under the cut! just a drabble & version 2 of my other drabble series for mk1. the idea came into my mind when I was writing a request, so, have fun! [also have no idea how this turned out to be more spicy than I thought] [main master.]

tomas, syzoth, bi han, liu kang, kuai liang, raiden

TOMAS. he likes to call you by every beautiful title even though he still believes your name is the prettiest one among them. he chooses “my goddess” mostly in lots of ways from showing his love to begging for you to let him fuck you. he always gets blushed whenever you tease him by using a few certain pet names. the most effective one is being called shy by you.

“oh, hi shyness, miss me already? ohh, cute!”

SYZOTH. he is shy like tomas yet he is a bit stronger with certain pet names you use for him while he’s calling you his love, goddess, precious. he prefers using cute little names for you besides your name. he even whimpers them when he has you on him, under him, in front of him. it doesn’t matter - the only important thing is how he tries to get you to call him with a certain title - good boy.

“ohh, my good boy - you’re so beautiful!”

BI HAN. it takes a long time for him to come up with pet names that include affection rather than power play - apparently, he’s new to this, a bit, yet when he discovers how the names he calls you have different effects on you, he begins to use them often. you are the reason he begins to use them after all - calling him master, in a very seductive way, turning his title to something different, something that makes his blood boil with a refreshing ice sense. it drives him crazy whenever you use it, so, he chooses to call you his personal favorite, including humiliating nicknames too - “slut”, “whore”, and “toy” - also he calls you, “pretty”, “delightful”.

“ohh - master, you have no idea what you’re doing to me - mmh, maybe you do.”

LIU KANG. he is a lover who likes to give both affection, love and lust, desire to his partner, so he uses lots of pet names while giving every beautiful name to you, from “darlin’”, “love”, “beauty” to “doll”, “honey”, “delicate flower”. he likes to see your expression, and your reactions as he calls you with such names. also, he can’t help but fall for you further, can’t hide the feelings he has in the moments of you call him your lord - both in a pretty way as if he’s the only one who has your heart and soul at the same time with your trust, and in a sweet way as if the only thing you want from him to devour you, showing his true power while showing you starts as he pounds into you.

“ohhh, my lord, please - it’s so gooood my lord, so good -!”

KUAI LIANG. the dilemma of this man makes you go crazy. it will be like in daylight, you’re the most precious thing in every realm, a delicate lover, deserves all gentle things from him - it even shows itself with the way he calls you his love, heart, and soul - yet in nights, he turns into a fire beast, having you so weak on the knees and teasing you whenever he gets chance to by calling you his good girl. his favorite ones - the ones that turn the table and make him weak on the knees one for you are being called your warmth, your lover, and your cute boy. according to the moods, he goes crazy with each of them.

“my lover - goood, feeling so good!”

RAIDEN. another shy boy who likes to call you the ones you are comfortable with- he even asks you if it’s okay to call you such a thing the first time he uses it without realizing it for a moment. he’s also a gentle lover - it takes time to also use a few filthy names rather than only cute ones such as “pretty”, “princess”, and “cuteness.” he spends a certain time until he calls you his good girl, making his mind turn dizzy with how you make him feel so good. for him, he should choose the name he can never get tired or bored of hearing from your pretty lips - as he remarks shyly.

“oh, look at my pretty boy! making such a mess for me!”

🩷

tagging • @lookingforgoodthings & @snowprincesa1

[shewrites02]

Forgive Me if I break You | Zoro x Reader | Part II

Part I Part III Part IIII

Trigger warnings: Domestic assault, Alcohol, verbal abuse , physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence. THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT ! MINORS DNI !

*THERE IS A GRAPHIC DEPECTION OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE IN THE FIRST FLASHBACK, IF NOT COMFORTABLE PLEASE SKIP. (the last line is the most important anyway)*

A/N: Thank you for all the support I've gotten at the start of this series, I was so nervous no one would be interested lol. I hope this part lives up to your expectations.

Request: Open

Word count: 5K

Leave a comment if you enjoy :)

The cold of the ice pack stings against your cheek, almost as much as the insults lodged in your throat with nowhere to go. Harshly, you swallow them down, having to reacclimate to the taste of stifled feelings. Almost completely forgotten in those two months.

You're in your shared bedroom, sitting in Lee's lap. Your head lays against his chest. With how tenderly he stroked your hair, you're almost able to imagine care in his touch. Pretend it is the swordsman who caresses you so tenderly. Lee places a soft kiss to your cheek, laying his head against yours.

"I'm sorry, y/n ... I didn't mean to lose my temper." He coos. In the past six months he never came up with any other excuse. Always an apology then an explanation of why it was your fault.

"It's jus’- you embarrassed me in front of our guests, interrupting me like that. You know I hate when you do that- and that fucking swordsman clearly has feelings for you."

Lee is almost completely lost in his rambling, and you think for a moment you will get relief from this puppet show he has forced you into. But the mention of Zoro has you going stiff.

"It's disgusting. a lowlife pirate thinking he can have what is mine. I forbid you from seeing him, do you understand?"

"Yes dear." you respond.

As if the swordsman wanted anything to do with you now. Not after what you've done to him- not after he has seen how pathetic you are. The future world's best swordsman deserves more than someone like you.

"I'm so glad you're home." Lee pivots. "I can't believe I thought you left me-"

Lee lets out a chuckle as though the thought is inconceivable. In spite of your rigidness, the chief takes a deep breath to relax into the headboard. Each chuckle that leaves his mouth tightens your shackles. Reaffirming what you already know- you aren't going anywhere.

"Is that what happened to the countryside?"  You ask meekly. Fearful of the answer, but so desperate for the truth.  "Did you burn the lemon grove to punish me?"

"... Yes."

Tears swell in your eyes as you pull away to look at the merciless man in front of you. A man who would bathe in your blood with no remorse. So desperate for your obedience he is willing to strip the last memories of your mother away from you as punishment . Did not need proof of your transgressions, his outrage evidence enough to justify his actions.

The chief uses the edge of his thumb to swipe the shallow tears brimming in your eyes.

"We can replant all of them my love, even more, now that you are home. "He lets his thumb sweep over your cheek and lips before he draws away.

Still he wears no semblance of remorse. No guilt or shame for what he's done. For the villagers - his people- homes destroyed in the crossfire of his rage. Couldn't care less about the massive amounts of  nature he burned to ash in the name of revenge. Their  forfeiture was a consequence of your decision to act so selfishly.  It was all your fault-

Why should the chief feel apologetic?

"And the villagers?"

Lee leans in to gently place another kiss to your cheek. As though his kisses can ease the pain of his strikes. Something in you wants to believe he is trying to soothe the pain he inflicted on you. The more nihilistic part of you knows you are only searching for the swordsman's affection in Lee 's actions.  Actions that only encompass power and control, that force obedience. Lee rests his forehead head against your head so that his lips are centimeters away from your ear.

"I told you, what I would do if you left- I thought you called my bluff, honey …" 

Your mouth went dry at the sight. How- You thought- there was no time to waste musing through all the precautions you  thought you followed. Not when your husband stood in front of you disproving their effectiveness.

"What is this?" He asked, pointing over to the bed.

There is an empty duffle bag clutched tight in his left hand- your duffle bag. Its contents scattered on the bed sporadically. A couple thousand berry, a map, exactly two changes of clothes, and a log pose. Everything you needed for a seamless departure.

"I- don't know how it- I-" You were too caught off guard to lie, too unprepared to conjure up an excuse on the fly. Instead you stood fumbling like an idiot trying to figure out how Lee could have possibly just stumbled upon your stash.

"What is it?!" The chief shouted, this time throwing the duffle bag so that it landed at your feet. Before you could answer, he was already stalking toward you. Soon his hands were wrapped around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks. You'd wince in pain if the man had allowed you any wiggle room. 

"Were you trying to leave me?" he growls.

"No-" you tried to muffle through your clenched jaw. the word only coming out as a strained cry.

He looked unconvinced. That darkness you're too familiar with started to fill his eyes. It made you begin to question what in you was so naïve enough to think you could escape. Lee moves his hand from your cheek to wrap his arm firmly around your waist. His opposite arm wrapped around your shoulders.

"You want to leave me?" He snarled.

Your head shook ‘no’ so vigorously you almost forgot it was a lie. Just trying to appease the chief,  to be spared from his wrath. It did not work. Lee was already starting to walk backward , dragging your body along easily despite your protests. This time you were sure.

He was going to kill you.

Lee easily kicked open the French doors leading to the balcony. Your kicking and screaming, posing as no defense against your husband. He drags you, until your torso is pressed against the balcony railing and he is forcing your head over to look at the drop.

"This is your only way out. If you want to leave me tell me now and I'll throw you over myself.... Say it!"

"I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave." The words repeated from your mouth like an incantation. Barely made out through your cries.

It was enough to make the chief release you, letting your limp body fall to the concrete. He stared down at you with a satisfactory smile before bending at the knees. The gentleness in his touch as he swept the hair out your face is always a precursor to his cruel threats.

"I'll burn this whole village to the  ground if you try to leave again. Do you understand me?" He snarls. "Slowly, one by one I will burn every region until you return to me. I will force you to watch everyone, everything , burn because you decided to be fucking selfish." 

Another kiss is planted to your cheek  before the whisper of Lee's voice commands your attention back to him. A shiver of a sigh escaping your lips at the painful memory.

"I can rebuild their homes... would you like that?"

You nod, letting the tears stream your face. You can feel Lee's smirk against your skin when he kisses the streaks. As though he is giving his approval of your reaction, your emotion.  The whites of his fingers dig into your waist to hold you close.  His grip does not lessen when you start to sob.

This is how he loved you. Broken. Tattered. Hopeless. An ode to his power, to how much he controlled you.

"Okay, Honey, first thing in the morning."

-

Water trickles down your chin and onto the sink. You had washed your face six times trying to get the feeling of Lee's hands off you. A futile attempt. His touch would be seared onto you forever.

You trace your cheek while staring into the vanity. There's some relief in not seeing a mark. Probably have your hiatus to thank for Lee's sudden mercy on you. At least you won't be subjected to questions. Trying to conjure up on the spot cover ups come morning, as to not incriminate your husband.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth. You would sob if you weren't so convinced you deserved this. The stinging of your face, the burning of your throat, the stabbing feeling in your chest. This must all be just a fraction of what you imposed on Zoro. The guilt in you leaves little room for other emotions, especially self pity.

How dare you believe a life waited for you beyond these cities' walls. Stupid, stupid, stupid- Foolishly thinking you could escape the future both your father and husband have mapped for you.

You curse the two month departure for giving you a glimpse of how good freedom could feel. For bringing the swordsman into your life when he is so undeserving of the burden you pose. For finally giving you hope just to later rub it in your  face.

"Lady Misatori." A small voice quips from the other side of the bathroom door. A knock follows to further force your attention.

A housekeeper stands on the other side. She can barely meet your eyes. A piece of notebook paper is folded into a tight square in her fingers , she is extending it out for you to grab. It trembles in her hands, giving way to the anxiety she is failing to hide.

"Thank you." You mutter. The maid looks relieved to hear her question-free dismissal.

When you open up the note you immediately recognize the handwriting. Had seen scribbled recipes written on loose leaf paper, and napkins enough to note it as Sanji's.

'Mosshead wants to talk- garden 10 minutes .'

The woman's trembling is finally put into perspective. Fearful of what her role in sneaking around the chief could mean for her. Briefly you wonder what the cook could've said to convince the woman to do this. Had his charm really been strong enough to get the woman to forgo all her senses? Part of you wishes to relish seeing Sanji's flirting finally meet with intrigue, but the insistent need to lay eyes on Zoro replaces the thought.

It has you stumbling out of the bathroom as quickly as you could. Forever grateful that in all his control Lee had found it fitting to give you a private bathroom.

-

It is dark, and wet. Leaves crunch and crumble beneath your feet as you walk the maze-like garden. The unpaved path is bordered with mountainous rose bushes that block your view of any direction, but front and back. The red flowers bloom so fruitfully they encroach your space on the pathway. The weather has gotten considerably cooler in the night, forcing you to pull your cardigan tighter around your shoulders. Regretting that the rush had made you grab the first thing with sleeves you saw.

A sigh leaves your lips exhaustedly. Surely the cook was mistaken. There was no sign of the swordsman anywhere. Maybe he had changed his mind about wanting to talk. Decided the risk isn't worth the reward. That you aren't worth the breath-

You hit an intersection on the path, and before you have the opportunity to turn left, there is a tight grasp around your arm. The force pulls you back, nestling you into the bushes behind you as you still. Once you gain your composure and are able to open your eyes, you’re met with the swordsman.

His left hand is wrapped firmly around your right arm, his other rest in the bush beside your head. Zoro has you caged. Trapped with nowhere to run. No place to hide. No escape.

"Husband?" He fumed. "Have you just been fucking around with me?"

"Zoro..." You plead, reaching out to grasp his cheek. He does not let you. Releases his hold on you to take a step back before your fingers land on him. The look on his face seethes of betrayal.

"Answer me!" The pirate barks. You flinch at the tone of his words, your eyes shutting closed. It takes a minute to gather yourself. You have never heard Zoro's voice void of any affection.

You swallow your own tears . Shove down your discomfort to accept accountability for your actions. Even if all you want to do is hold the swordsman once more. Hear his heart thump in his chest. Hear him say he loves you.

"I should have told you. I am so sorry I hurt you Zoro. "

The pirate scoffs, clearly not satisfied with your answer. He is shaking his head in disbelief, eyes burrowing into yours.

"You lied to me. You told me you loved m-"

"I Promise Zoro, I love you. I love you so much. so much." You beseech. 

The swordsman seems even more tortured by your testament. His hands find his skull to dig his fingers into his scalp. As if trying to ground himself for only a moment at the reeling thoughts.

"Does he know that? That you love me, that you're mine?"

When you don't answer the frustration builds in the swordsman. He lets out a pained laugh that morphs into more of a choke. His expression is filled with disbelief. 

"You're not mine." He speaks as if he is speaking to himself. "You're his."

"That is who you want to spend the rest of your life with? He talks to you like shit- the dirt beneath his shoes and you smile through the whole thing. The man who thinks you're his accessory- That is the man you love?"

Zoro badgers you. Moving his tongue as piercingly swift as you're sure, he can wield his swords. 

"I do not love that man." You choke.

"Then why?" The swordsman shouts. His exclamation wakes the small birds that have chosen the garden as their resting place. The sounds of their wings flapping away from the conflict fills the air. "Y/n ... why are you doing this to me?"

There is a frailness to his voice you don't recognize. Something so breakable about the way he utters your name. In the two months you had spent with Zoro you had never seen him show this much emotion.

"Zoro, if I could stay on the beach with you forever... I would. But I can't. I have people who need me-"

"I need you!" He professes, throwing his arms in the air. 

The way that Zoro bares his scars to you , when you could not do the same in return physically pains you. You force down the tears that dare to surface at his confession. Who were you to be hurt in a situation you hand crafted? To cry in the presence of a man who held his broken heart in his hands with hopes, you would fix it.

There's an immense sadness in your restraint, how you're able to still your body though every bone in you wants to wrap around him.  Reciprocate all the comfort Zoro so willingly gives to you. But this is not the beach-

"I'm so sorry Zoro. I'm so sorry." Your eyes shift to the ground. The tears are so much harder to fight off when you can see the confusion under his saddened expression.

Zoro cups your cheeks in his hands and for a fleeting moment there is no anger. There are only kisses shared under the stars, gasps fallen onto the sand, words of endearment lost to the wind. Love. For a second Zoro stares at you and there is only love.

"I don't want apologizes- " There's a shake in his breath. " I want you to tell me why I have to watch another man touch you.  Why he gets to hold you tonight instead of me. Tell me why you keep saying you love me, but you're going home to another man. Tell me the fucking truth!"

Even in his anger you can hear the worry in the pirate's voice. It takes you by surprise. Maybe malice hasn't taken up the space of affection in Zoro's heart after all. Maybe in all his poking and prodding Lee had only brought concern out of the first mate. The sweet sentiment physically aches. You turn your head, breaking free from his grasp.

"Leave Zoro- take your crewmates and go. I'm only going to hurt you if you stay, so please- go."

"... Is he why you need the sun to feel free?"

You're caught off guard by the swordsman's questions. Don't expect to hear your words echoed from his mouth. "Free". You could almost laugh hearing the word now. Freedom? What did you know about freedom? Always a pawn for someone else's will, your own desires to be placed on a shelf and expectantly forgotten.  This castle has always been your prison.

"I'll make sure you'd feel the sun everyday. I will drag it out the sky and place it in your hands if it will make you smile. I'll never trap you. I love you. Please- don't leave me." He begs.

Your body is moving on its own again, this time manipulated by the voice of the swordsman. Unsure of what has come over you, you're reaching out for Zoro, pulling him in closer. You know that you shouldn't. Especially not here and not now. But it does not stop you from standing on your tiptoes to press your lips into his.

The intention was for a quick kiss, just one last time to feel Zoro's lips on yours, but it's difficult not to savor the moment. To not search for another life, one where you could be together, in his mouth. The same desperation is displayed in the way Zoro grasps you. Tight. One hand tangled in your hair while the other on your waist. As if he could hold you tight enough to stay. He groans in displeasure why you finally pull away from him.

"Go Zoro. I'm only going to break you."

-

The sun has risen just enough to illuminate the desolate field. The early morning is still shying away from pushing out the darkness of night completely. You woke early enough to see Lee still had not returned home. Off doing something you are sure, is none of your business. 

You took the opportunity to sneak out to what used to be the lemon grove. Tears stream your face while you wonder what pushed you out here. What exactly it is that you're hoping to find amongst the ash.

The memories of your mother you can't get back? Pieces of the wooden swing you used to sit on in the summer? Evidence it was truly necessary to leave the swordsman in your past?

It's hard to focus on all you've lost when staring at the pile of rubble that is the villagers' homes. Their whole lives destroyed at a whim. You did this to them. Had you stayed home and behaved no one, not even the swordsman, would be in this situation.

"Wanna tell me what you're looking for?"

The whisper behind you sounds so familiar. There is a part of you that does not want to turn around, thinks it's better off not knowing who the voice belongs to. A bigger part of you itches with a need to know.

"Zoro."

"Maybe I can help you find it." There's a crooked smirk on his lips.

It's involuntary, the way your heart is instantly soothed at his arrival. Something it must have learned on its own while on the beach. You have to fight not to jump into his arms. Draw him into you with the wish to feel his lips again. 

" I thought I told you to leave..." you mutter.

"You did." The pirate agrees. Zoro moves from behind you, so you no longer have to crane your neck to look at him. He reaches to take your hand in his. His thumb traces the back of your hand, his touch so soft you almost don't feel it.  

"You're still here."

"You may have authority in this village, but the only person I take orders from is Luffy." He lets out a laugh.

The sound forces your brows to furrow to the center of your face. Where was his anger? His disappointment? Why wasn't he yelling at you? The last conversation you had with the swordsman had not gone the best. This warm welcome is the farthest reception you expected to receive.

"What?" He asks, reaching out to smooth the wrinkles your frown causes. You're surprised at the way you flinch when his fingertips touch your forehead, a reaction you hadn't had in at least a month.

Had it really only taken one night with Lee to erase all your expectations of being lovingly touched?

You can see Zoro's happy exterior waiver for just a moment at your knee jerk reaction. Still he does not draw away his fingers. Just trails them down so he can stroke your cheek. Still offering you a kind smile.

"Stop Zo..."  You're taking a step away before you can give into him. Pulling your hand away to further the distance.  "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see the lemon grove..." He uses the tip of his boot to kick at a burned shingle on the ground. "So much for that."

"Oh? You made it here all on your own?" In spite of your sorrows you laugh. "You didn't get lost?"

Zoro glares at you, his eyebrows raised to his temples. You suspect he hadn't expected you to join in on his light heartedness.

"I had to ask someone in the town square..." He sheepishly admits drawing an even more obnoxious laugh for your throat.

"Why were you looking for the lemon grove?"

"You don't remember?" He asks.

Even in your best memories of the beach, you never liked sand. The way it intrusively stuck to you, creeping its way into every nook and cranny made your skin crawl, but this beach was the expectation. You loved everything about this beach.

"Tell me something else." Zoro requests. His voice was softer than before- meeker after your supposed rejection.

You were still wrapped firmly in the swordsman arms, your head on his chest. Zoro's head had returned to rest on top of yours. A brisk breeze forced you closer to Zoro in search of warmth, the thin blanket almost whisked away at the gust. The sight drew a laugh from the pirate.

"Where would you be right now if you were home?"

The only location you could definitely think of was underneath the chief's thumb, but that surely couldn't be the answer the swordsman was looking for. It was hard to think of places in your village that still brought you joy. Places that hadn't been corrupted in the transition of power from your father to Lee.

"The lemon grove." You blurted out the second it came to you. There was a cheesy grin on your face while you reminisced. A grin that is met with a full blown smile from Zoro once he sees your joy. He leaned down to plant  a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw.

"Yeah? Why is that your favorite place?" His breath brushed against your neck.

"My mom used to take me there, and we would have picnics in the summer. There's this huge swing we'd sit on. It's my favorite place in the whole world."

"All that you've seen of it?" Zoro jokes. He caught your wrist when you went to slap his chest. Bringing your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles. He rubbed his finger back and forth over yours after planting one last kiss to your cheek.

"Maybe you can show it to me? When we get you home?"

Lee had never in the six months you'd been married bothered to visit the lemon grove. Just knew it was a sacred space for you , a memento to your mother. This was the first time you're grateful for that. That in the chief's vast kingdom there could still be a place that could be just Zoro and yours.

"I would love that Zo."

You smiled before craning your neck to plant a kiss on his lips.

"I wanted to see your favorite place." Zoro admits once he sees you remember. "I thought it might give me some insight." 

"Insight?" You parrot in confusion. 

"You're hiding something from me." Zoro states plainly, drawing your eyes to him.

"You found out I'm married, what else can I be hiding Zoro?" Your voice trembles with exhaustion.

The swordsman narrows his eyes as he looks you over. That fury, and fire previously seen in the garden is long gone . All that remains is this inquisitive stare.

"I don't know, but you are... I wish you would let me help you."

"Help me-" There is a feigned smile painted on your lips. How could a pirate of the new world be so... heartening. Surely the horrors he has seen, far exceed the small misfortunes of your life.

"Zoro. I already told you to go. "

"If you looked at me and told me you didn't mean any of it I would've left. Sailed away and tried for the rest of my life never to think of you again, but you didn't. You told me you love me-"

"I do."

Zoro plops down onto the ash filled ground. He crosses his arms against his chest, and stares out at the rubble.

"Then I'm not leaving. Until you tell me what's going on, what's actually happening, I'm not going anywhere."

The way your heart swells at his proclamation is treacherous. Allowing yourself to be swooned by actions that could very well get the both of you executed. You almost think it's sweet, if it wasn't so stupid.

"Why do you care? Zoro I hurt you, why are you still chasing me?"

"... because I meant it when I said I love you. And I know you meant it too."

"You deserve someone better than me Zoro. Someone who won't hold you back, someone who won't hurt you, someone worthy of standing next to the world's strongest swordsman."

"I don't care what you think I deserve. That's not a decision for you to make." Zoro snaps.

"Zoro... " You sigh exasperatedly at his rebuttal. "Do you really think I won't hold you back? That you will still become the world's strongest swordsman if I'm standing next to you?"

"I don't think I will become the world's strongest swordsman if you aren't standing next to me." 

There's a sharp breath forced into your lungs at his confession. How could he say that with such certainty. It has only been two months. The two of you should be able to forget each other. Move on as if none of this happened- but Zoro stands before you stating he doesn't know if his dream will come true without you. A dream he has been chasing his entire life. A dream you've only come privy to in the last 60 days. 

"Tell me you don't love me- I'll go. If you look me in my eyes right now and say it, I'll leave." He challenges.

You search for the words on your tongue, though you cannot find them. No parts of you willing, or wanting to lie to the swordsman.

"I can't."

-

Zoro has kept his promise. The strawhat crew joining you and your husband for breakfast, lunch, and now dinner going on the third day in a row. You wonder what the pirate is waiting for? A confession? An outcry for help? Don't know what actions would be satisfactory enough to get him to sail away.

In all of those days Zoro has sat in that same seat, to the right of you at every meal. Some meals he would lightly brush his knees back and forth against yours. At others he would 'accidentally' knock his napkin off the table so he could pinch your thighs. In spite of your best efforts to forget the swordsman exists, he seems all too insistent on making his presence known.

"So Luffy, when do you think you and your crew will be leaving?" Lee asks. His voice does well to mask the irritation you can pin in the twitch of his eye. "We'd love to send you all off with a ball."

You suspect Lee's urging of the Strawhats' departure correlates to his growing  suspicion of the swordsman. The chief may be many things, but naïve has never been one of them. He takes note of the way Zoro's eye never leaves you, regardless of whoever is speaking. How the swordsman just couldn't be bothered to feign interest whenever the chief commands the room. You had spent every one of these past nights disavowing your feelings for the swordsman.

"We're thinking soon- Wednesday at the latest." Nami answers before her captain has the opportunity to. He seems to wear a confused look that is soon dissipated by her scowl. 

Two days.

Although you had trained yourself not to go looking for the swordsman, your eyes immediately fall onto him at the navigator's words. Your concern is met with raised bows, almost a silent challenge from the pirate.

Did he expect you to profess your love there at the dinner table? To look at your husband and gloat in the love you've been able to find? Neither are options being the choice was not yours. Lee has done a great job in ensuring you did not have any choices.

"Oh, I'll get the staff on preparations immediately. We will hold the ball tomorrow." Lee's smile is filled with pleasure.

His wife had returned home, and soon the guests he had been performing for would be on their way. Everything is on the road to being back to normal. Exactly how you remembered it. The thought sends a shiver down your body.

"Maybe y/n can take us to the shop to find a dress?" Robin suggests.

Lee is apprehensive about letting you go. Obvious from the way his smile falters at the archeologists suggestion. But he never could deny a pretty woman. Begrudgingly he agrees.

Part III

************************************************************************

A/N: Part three is in the works , I'm hoping to not go more than a week between chapters, but please don't hold me to that. The ADHD will make me a liar. Thank you to all the beautiful people who care about my work, and have so many kind words.

Tag List: @turtletaubwrites @jinjen @sanzu-clinic @heyauntieeee @honeybuzzzzzz @nothing-but-brass

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories /four/ Azriel x reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

A/N: We're getting closer to her returning to the IC and I'm so happy about that. I also had a lot of fun writing this part, so I hope you enjoy!

Part One Part Two Part Three

The following days were much the same, watching from a distance as Tamlin worked hard to woo the young Feyre. Your eyes rolled every time he tried to complement her. She didn’t belong here. Just like you didn’t belong here. She was too much of a dreamer to become a High Lord’s wife, or little play thing. Too much of a dreamer to be held down by his endless rules and customs. 

She deserved so much more. You deserved more. 

Imagines of wings and starlight fill your head every time you close your eyes. You could see all of them, laughing at The House of Wind over dinner, having a grand time without you. They moved on, you know they had. But you couldn’t move on from them, no matter how hard you tried. You yearned for them. 

You yearned for Cassian and his brutish humor, the kind that always got him in trouble with your mother, but always made you laugh harder than you should. You yearned for Morrigan and her never ending support when your father was being particularly dastardly. And Azriel….oh how you longed for him. The gentle touches of his shadows, the shy smiles, and rare bouts of laughter. Besides your brother, you missed Azriel most of all. 

He was your Az, and yet you had no claim to him. But he seemed to understand that you belonged to one another. Maybe that’s why you made the promises you did. 

Where you go I go, but whatever we do we do it together. 

You made that promise before you flew for the first time. You were too afraid to fly as a child, but when Azriel came along and had to learn so late in life….well you got over your fear for him. You grasped his scarred hand in your tiny one and led him to the edge of the House of Wind. Why they decided that was the best place to learn to fly, you’ll never quite understand. 

But it was then that you looked up at him, tears in your eyes due to fear, that you spoke, “Where you go I go.”

He nodded slowly, hair blowing in the wind, “But we do it together.”

“Together,” You agreed, holding his hand tighter. 

And together you leapt from the ledge and let the wind take hold of your wings. Together you wobbled, but still stayed afloat. Together you figured it out, never once letting go of the other. And when you landed back on the roof, you held him so tightly as he laughed. And it was then that you decided that was the most beautiful sound you ever heard. It was then that you decided you would do anything to hear that laugh and see that smile as much as possible. 

And it was then that he decided he would always protect you, because you were his just as much as he was yours. 

“He’s sending her back,” Lucien’s voice drew you from your thoughts. 

“He’s what?”

“Your brother came,” Lucien says, face pale, “Took her mind, threatened to crush it. It isn’t safe for her here anymore, time is almost up. So Tam is sending her back.”

“He’s a damned fool,” you hiss, “She’s in love with him, it’s plain as day to see! All he has to do is get her to admit it, but he can’t do that, can he? He’s giving up, all because my brother decided to come and scare him?”

“You weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t, but when does the brutality of the Night Court surprise Tamlin?” You question, “He’s seen it first hand, he knows what we’ll do to him. Why do you think he keeps me full of Faebane? Huh?” 

“Y/N-”

“He knows I could shred all of your minds so easily,” You nearly laugh, “I could make Rhys look like child’s play if I really wanted to. You think he is vile and violent? See what happens when I have all of my powers, Lucien. There’ll be nothing left to bury. I could raze the Spring Court to the ground and not feel a thing about it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m a prisoner here, don’t think that I wouldn’t take the first chance to escape,” You shake your head, “No matter who I have to kill. I might still be a child compared to the rest of you but I’m a child of the Night. Brutality is in my blood.” 

“You aren’t like them-”

“Oh? Am I not? Just because I’ve been docile so far doesn’t mean it isn’t inside of me. I am a wolf in sheep's clothing. I always have been, dear Lucien. I am the most dangerous person in this manor, and he’s a fool to forget it.”

His face contorts into something that you aren’t quite able to read. Pride wells in your chest knowing you’re doing your job. You want to feel sick about it, want to feel sick about the role you’re playing. But if it brings you one step closer to your brother then you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about it. All you want is to go home again. You just want Rhys to hold you and tell you everything is going to be alright again. 

“Tamlin deserves what's coming to him,” you hiss, “You all do.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

“Oh but I do. I hope Rhys enjoys breaking every single one of you. And if he doesn’t, I will,” You take a step closer to Lucien, “By the cauldron I promise you, I will break this court apart piece by piece and I will laugh as I do it. And I won’t stop until he’s the only one left standing, and all he has to claim is rubble.” 

It rises up in your chest, and you feel it escaping through your fingertips, the darkness you used to run from long ago. You smile at it, feeling it wrap up your arms and cascade down towards the floor. It took a lot of energy to conjure it. You would be exhausted afterwards. But it would be worth it. 

Lucien took a step back, and then another. Head shaking. You knew what you looked like. A vile smile on your face, darkness twirling all around you. You looked like your big brother. You felt the power flowing through your veins, what little you had left of it anyway. 

“Don’t underestimate me, Lucien.” 

Tamlin sent Feyre back to the human lands the following day. You watched from your window with a scowl on your face as the carriage took her away. Tamlin was giving up and damning all of you in the process. Amerantha would come for him soon enough, and then there would be nothing left for you but to run. 

Maybe you could make it to the Night Court, maybe you would be lucky. 

“Once she comes, you’re free,” Tamlin spoke over dinner that night. 

“Perhaps,” You do your best to sound bored. 

You had to control your heart, so you didn’t give away how scared you truly were. If she found you, you would be dead in an instant. Or maybe she’d use you as a toy to get Rhys to do her bidding some more. He was already her whore, but perhaps she wanted more. She wanted him on his knees for her. And even you knew that he bowed before no one but his court. 

“Maybe I’ll stay here, I’ve grown quite fond of this place.”

“Liar.” Lucien bites out. 

One look from you though and he stands down. What he doesn’t know is you slept for almost twelve hours after your little display earlier. It took everything you had, all of your energy and what power you had. But it was worth every second to see the look on Lucien’s face. To know that you were still able to scare him enough. 

“Something you add, Lucien?” You question, venom dripping from your words. 

His head shakes, swallowing deeply. It only makes you smirk. You were so close to going home, to any semblance of home. Maybe your brother wouldn’t be there, but you’d be free. The Court of Nightmares had to be better than living here. 

“You should hide,” Tamlin says slowly, “They’re coming.”

“Now?”

He only nods, and reaches for more wine. He seems too calm. But then again he’s already given up. He gave up the second he sent Feyre back across the wall to her family. You can’t help but scoff as you rise to your feet. You expected him to fight back, maybe even for Lucien to fight. But you didn’t expect them to just lay down and roll over and let Amerantha march her cronies in here and take everyone. 

“You’re a coward, Tamlin.”

“So you’ve been saying for hundreds of years.”

“You should have just killed me.”

“Heard that too.” 

Your eyes roll, “I hope you have fun as her dog.” 

“Enjoy your freedom, Y/N.” 

You scoff again, “You best hope I never get the chance to kill you, Tamlin. I won’t make it as quick as my brother made your family's death.” 

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[i-literally-cant-with-this]

This is an oddly specific request but could I ask for headcanons with Kafka and a reader who’s on the curvier side? Like I’ve got DDs, I have wider hips, and like Kafka I have abs but only if I suck in my stomach. So I guess I feel very seen and validated by his body type??

Sfw/nsfw is fine, and feel free to delete this if it’s too vague. I hope you have an awesome day! ☺️

MDNI under the cut, please and thank you!

A/N ::: I woke up at 4:30 this morning and am falling asleep as I write this lol. Proofed as well as I could for the remaining brain power I have.

Anon! I LOVE this so much. And oddly specific requests are fine with me. It just means I have more to work with! I hope you like this and that it meets all of your needs =).

Always had a soft spot for women with more to love. And you've only made these feelings of his grow in intensity.

Can't believe YOU are interested in him. Sure, he knows he's strong and relatively good looking (my god, he deserves the world) but only recently has he started to feel really comfy in his own skin.

Respects the hell out of you for being so confident in your body.

Never tires of seeing you walk around in your bra when you get ready in the morning.

Has trouble focusing on his breakfast when your tits are looking so much more delicious than what he's trying to eat.

Has given up on finishing his food more than once to take a few well-placed bites of you.

Can't get enough of your ass, especially when you're bent over something in the kitchen. Or the bedroom. Or the bathroom. Anywhere, really.

Comes up behind you and starts to rub your hips, squeezing and pulling at you, whining because he doesn't want to wait until later to have you all to himself again.

You've let him indulge in his fondness for the softness of your body more than once.

You're nearly convinced that he likes what he's doing to you more than you do.

The way he reacts when he's eating your pussy, moaning and pulling your body closer against his face, his big arms wrapped up under your thighs and his hands almost turning white they're gripping the fat of your legs so hard.

It's like he's possessed, unable to control himself.

And when he fucks you, his abs bulge and flex as he slams into you, his cock hitting all of those spots deep inside of you, driving you mad.

Does his best to let you cum first.

When he finishes, sometimes he'll pull out and cum all over your tits, stomach, ass. Any part of you that he's fixated on at that moment in time.

Has had trouble deciding and almost ruined his own orgasm - luckily, there are only beautiful parts to you, and he was able to finish anywhere.

He's never had a preference for where he puts it before, but with you he just seems to really like to cover you in his cum.

Provides world-class aftercare.

He offers you anything he can think of that you might want or need.

Warm washcloth to clean up a little? Sit tight, kitten, he'll be right back.

Hungry? Where do you want to eat? He's famished, anything you want sounds great to him.

Thirsty? He's already walking his chubby, jiggly naked butt down the hall to the kitchen for a glass of ice water for you.

Tired? Great, so is he. The two of you have curled up more than once to take some quiet time for just you.

He's got you covered for anything.

So grateful to have someone so loving, patient, and caring in his life.

Fights (playfully) with you about who is luckier: You or him. But he never backs down that he's the clear winner here.

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