#if you think I should tag anything just lemme know

[wands-natsthing]

𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭?

Hellooo this is chapter 2!! I hope you enjoy it. If there's anything you guys would like to see for this little thing please let me know!! Also I will be trying to update this fic at least once a week maybe either on Wednesdays or Thursdays and then posting a request or something on the weekends. 

Feedback is more than welcomed, pls like and comment I enjoyed sm reading and replying to them and if you would liked to be tagged pls leave a comment

Warings: This is like previous high school student x teachers kinda sorta reader was 18 when that was happening tho no smut yet but will be implied in the future. That’s all i think but if you recognize anymore lemme know pls!! 

Word count: 1.3k 

Summary: You didn’t see Wanda anymore after the cafe incident but you go to the schools open house and see here there and have a talk. (I'm so sorry i'm shit at summaries)

 You didn't see Wanda around anymore after that. School was lingering around the corner, with the hot summer air turning into a cool breeze. You had comfortably settled into your new apartment, adorning it with various fall decorations. 

The open house was coming up in a few days. It was an event filled with eager students and their curious parents about the upcoming school year. Although you weren't required to go because you weren't a teacher, you wanted to. You needed to know if Wanda still worked there.

Technically, you could check the school's website and browse through the staff directory, but you wanted to see for yourself. You wanted to see with your own eyes whether the classroom still looked straight out of a Pinterest board. If the fairy lights you both had hung during a shared lunch still twinkled from the ceiling, if her favorite cinnamon and vanilla-scented candle still filled the room with its soothing aroma?

You wondered if her teaching methods had changed. Had the years hardened her patience, or did she repeat herself as often as needed? Did she still listen more than she spoke, or did she talk over students? Did her words continue to carry the same weight as they did all those years ago? Would they still keep you awake at night pondering over what she said? 

You had so many questions you wanted answers to, but simultaneously, you were afraid to know the answers. What would you do if everything had changed? What if this wasn't the same Wanda from five years ago? Physically, she looked the same, but what would that matter if she had changed from within? 

Realistically, you knew that asking her to stay exactly the same was impossible. A lot can change in five years. You should know you have grown a lot yourself, but that didn't mean you liked it. 

And who was that woman? 

You asked yourself this question for weeks after seeing her that day in the cafe, constantly fighting the urge to try and stalk her. It's not like you could, anyway. You didn't even know her name, let alone what she looked like, as her back was facing you, but that didn't stop you from obsessing over her. 

Were they together? Were they married? How did they meet? When did they meet? Was it long after you left, or did she move on quickly, and your shared turkey and cheese sandwiches didn't mean as much as you thought? 

There were just so many questions. 

The day of the open house had arrived. You sat in your car, staring at the familiarity of high school. From the outside, it looked exactly the same, with the red and blue colored letters spelling out "Go Ravens!!"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you observed the array of cars in the parking lot, heightening your anxiety. You contemplated the idea of simply driving back home, but just the possibility of seeing Wanda again was too irresistible to resist. 

The clock was ticking, and with each passing moment, your dread only seemed to grow. 

How would she react upon seeing me again? 

Would the awkwardness be palpable, or would she greet me with the same warm smile she did in the cafe? 

And what about me? How was I supposed to act around her? I certainly had to do better than last time. 

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself out of the car. The walk to the entrance felt longer than it was; each step was heavy with hesitation. You thought about the day she saved you as you entered the hallways filled with eager parents and students. The noise seemed to fade into the background as you made your way to where her classroom used to be. Your usual fast-paced walk is now turning into you dragging your feet. 

Before you even turned the corner, you heard the same laugh you did in the cafe with another voice. Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking another thought, you turned the corner. 

There she was, Wanda, standing outside her classroom wearing black slacks and a white long-sleeved ribbed shirt tucked into them. Her hair was lightly curled down her back, and her feet adorned a pair of black loafers. 

She was engaged in conversation with a parent, and her passion for teaching was evident in how she used her hands to talk and the sparkle in her eyes. You hesitated, not wanting to interrupt but unable to pull yourself away. The parent soon left, nodding and offering a polite goodbye. 

As they moved, you saw her again, the redhead from the cafe. 

What was she doing here?  

She was leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on her lips as she watched Wanda interact with the parent. 

Your eyes met. She turned to tap Wanda to get her attention and pointed at you. You stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to approach her. 

When she looked at you, the recognition on her face was immediate, and a warm, genuine smile spread across her face. "It's been a long time," she said softly while grabbing at your hands, using the same soft tone she had last spoken to you on graduation day.  

"Yeah, it has. Too long," you replied, the weight of the years settling between you both. You stood there for a moment, staring before you were brought back by the sound of the woman's voice that was standing next to her.

"Hey, Wanda, I can take over here for a while if you guys want to catch up."

"Are you sure? I mean, I know it's a little busy, " she asked, looking around at all the parents and students.  

"Yes, go. I'll be fine here; I can handle it, " the red-headed woman reassured her while pushing her farther in your direction. 

"Okay, then let's go somewhere less crowded," Wanda said while leading you away. 

As you walked to a quieter area, neither of you said a word. The silence wasn't necessarily awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either. Inside, you were freaking out. 

What were you going to say? What if she told you to leave and that she never wanted to see you again?

It wasn't like you could fulfill her request if that's what she wanted. You needed this job; You could not go back home. 

The less crowded place turned out to be a janitor's closet. The smell of dirty mop water and ammonia was prevalent in the air. 

Wanda turned to lock the door. Once inside, you both looked at each other, wondering what to say.

"You look really good, so grown up," she whispers more to herself than to you while taking her left hand to brush a piece of hair behind your ear before hesitating and bringing it back down to her side. 

You noticed that when she brought her hand back to her side, a silver ring with an oval-shaped diamond lay upon her ring finger. Has she gotten married?

"Thank you, so do you. Look really good, I mean," you stutter over yourself.

Wanda blushes with a slight chuckle, "Thank you."

"Of course," you smile.

Tension lingered in the air as both of you had questions but had no idea how to ask them or if you even should.

Wanda is the one to break that tension.

"So, um, not that I'm not super happy to see you because I am, but what are you doing here?"

Excitement swirled inside, hearing that she was happy to see you.

"I, uh, I got a job here as a library media assistant. I will be working in the media center, you know, checking out books and teaching computer programs."

"Really? That's great. You always loved the school library. I remember how you used to beg me to bring the class at least twice a week."

"Yeah, I'm really excited about it."

While you were trying to be present in the conversation, you really had a one-track mind.

"Who's the woman that was standing outside the door with you?" you asked.

You can tell Wanda hadn't been expecting your question by the way her eyes widened.

"Oh um that's Natasha, After you graduated I started teaching a co-taught english class and well she's the co-teacher." She paused before confirming the suspicion you had earlier. 

"She's also my wife…" 

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

Lemme know whatcha thinkkkk

@nebthetautora @esposadejoyhuerta @w4ndsversew0nder

@skz-xii

[todayisafridaynight]

i have to drive for like two hours tomorrow and all i can think of is old people

[queers-gambit]

Adore Her, Dior Her

prompt: ( requested ) what good is having all that money if he can't spend it on the woman he loves?

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4.3k+

warnings: author foams at the mouth for Mafia AUs, overwhelming fluff, cursing, not edited.

"That's the one. That's one we should get!"

"You've said that about the past three dresses, Buck!" You groaned, smoothing your hands over the skirt. "We need to narrow this down, okay? The wedding's in a month!"

"Why did we even agree to go?"

You glared, "'Cause we love my brother and we're supporting him."

"But she's just so - "

"Jen. Her name's Jen."

Bucky nodded, leaning back on the cushioned chair, "Well, Jen's just wrong for him. Literally the definition of toxic."

"Does it count if they're toxic together? To each other?" You sighed, standing on the pedestal and turning to look in the three mirrors beside the dressing room.

"Of course it does," he stood, buttoning his suit jacket out of habit. He approached you, head cocking as he looked your body up and down to get the full view of the gown you tried on. "You're really okay letting him marry her? Turn this way a bit, baby, lemme see the front."

You scoffed, but took his offered hand and twisted on the small platform towards him, "You were there at Christmas, he doesn't listen to reason. So, if Daniel's convinced Jen's for him, as his sister, my only job is be supportive."

"They literally abuse each other," he pointed out.

"Well, he's not changing his mind. Okay? It's been three years, he won't budge, whenever someone brings up them breaking up, he goes into hiding - so, I don't know what else I can do," your hands slapped your thighs when you shrugged, "except just be there for him. Now, focus, please, help me narrow a dress down."

He shook his head as you turned to face the mirrors again, "Actually, you know what? I don't think anything in this store is for us."

The attendant perked up and scurried over, rushing, "Oh, well, we have a much larger selection in the back, Mr. Barnes - "

"That won't be necessary, Barbra, thank you, though," he nodded. "Doll," his hand planted on your waist, head over your shoulder as you still looked yourself over in the mirrors, "go get changed, I know where we need to go."

"Bucky, no, there's plenty of options here," you argued, twisting on the wee little pedestal to face him again. "We don't need to drop a stack on a dress - "

"You let me worry about the price tag," he smirked, leaning in to peck your cheek. "Just go change, pretty girl, c'mon. Step-to!"

You offered Barbra, the attendant, an apologetic smile as you shuffled back into the changing room; quickly stripping from the dress. When you exited in your street clothes, Bucky was tipping the aged woman for her effort in gathering your options, but the moment he saw you, his hand was extending to hold yours tightly.

"What was wrong with that store?" You asked when you stepped onto the noisy and busy street to approach the sleek, tinted car Bucky drove for day-to-day errands.

"We're not shopping at David's fucking Bridal."

"You literally drove us here," you laughed.

"Yeah, and then I had a much better idea," he smirked at you, unlocking the car and opening your passenger door. "C'mon, princess, just gotta trust me."

"Last time you said that - "

"That wasn't my fault," he groaned, cheeks flaring red in embarrassment. When you opened your mouth to retort, he rushed, "Aht, nope, don't say shit. C'mon, I'm taking you somewhere special so get that pretty ass in the car."

He grinned when you laughed and did as bid, feet safely inside when he closed the door after you were settled. Bucky easily jogged around the back of his car, New York busy this time of year as traffic flew past on the street and forced Buck slow. He dropped into the driver's seat, sniffling slightly.

"Reminds me," Bucky smirked as he pulled onto the street, "how would you feel about us going to Aspen this winter?"

You sighed, "Why?"

"You wanna stay in New York for Christmas?"

"Well, yeah! It's so magical."

"Okay, so, we can go over New Years?"

You sighed, "You know, we don't have to go anywhere..."

"Sweetheart," he cleared his throat, "I actually have some business in Aspen, this will just help determine when I schedule the meetings for."

"Oh," you nodded slowly.

He sighed, "I know my job isn't orthodox, but business is business, right, sugar?”

"No, yeah, yeah, I get it. It sounds kinda nice, maybe we can go skiing."

"You know how to ski?"

"No, but I'm sure someone in Aspen could help teach me."

Bucky grinned. The drive was full of easy conversation, neither you nor Bucky dwelling on his business dealings, always feeling as if it was taboo given his station in the Mafia. So when he pulled up in front of a designer store, you gawked. "Now, if we can't find something here - "

"Um, absolutely not," you laughed. "Bucky, I can't even afford to walk into a place like that!"

"Good thing I'm paying," he smirked. He assisted you out of the car, tossing his keys to one of his security guards who had been following in a separate, tinted vehicle. When you both entered the dimly lit store, you were blown away by the gorgeous minimalist design; warm lighting, open floor space, and racks of different clothing options.

"Ah, Mr. Barnes! Hello, hello, hello!" A new attendant greeted with more enthusiasm than you would've greeted any of your clients, approaching you two. She shook your boyfriend's hand vigorously, "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, "Looking for a dress to wear to a wedding."

She offered you a forced smile, telling your boyfriend swiftly with her teeth on full display, "You came to the right spot!"

"See?" Bucky smirked at you. "All right, Valeria, what's first?"

Valeria waved you both onward to a private changing room, offering complimentary sparkling waters, coffees, teas - even offering to go retrieve anything you two would want from the Starbucks down the block. Valeria took your measurements and dress size, making idle chit-chat with Bucky and making it obvious he was a regular in the store, then scurrying off to collect an armful of options.

"This is - wow," you nodded in impression, petting the material of the display dresses hung along the wall.

"Like it?"

"It's growing on me," you eased with a small shrug, hearing Bucky chuckle and for his phone to chime. You perused the place as he became glued to the little device, sat in front of the dressing rooms.

Valeria returned with another attendant carrying coffees. "Right this way, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria directed you into a changing room, missing the giddy look you sent Bucky over your shoulder at being called his wife. "All right, so," she sighed, hanging up the dresses she selected, "I think these are modest enough for a wedding, but still glamorous to turn a few heads."

You hummed, "They're kinda short, don't know if that's the energy I want to be giving off at my brother's wedding."

"They'll fit differently once on but we can always accommodate," she assured, pulling one from the hanger. "Here we go," she assisted you, zipping you in and looking you over. "Oh, it's just darling on you! Look at that, not a single hair outta place, right?"

You giggled lightly, "It's certainly pretty."

"Shall we show Mr. Barnes?"

You nodded, following her out to reveal Bucky sitting on a plush loveseat, sipping his coffee. His eyes widened when he saw you, nodding, "Oh, yeah. This is what I'm talking about."

"Hush, we're only buying one."

His eyes rolled, "I'll buy the whole damn store if I want."

"You don't own it already? Hm," you teased, perking your brows.

"Keep sayin' shit, I'll cut a check right now - "

"Bucky," you tisked, moving to the runway mirrors. "It's a little tight, isn't it?"

"It's snug," Valeria agreed. "Is there a color scheme for the wedding?"

"Um," you paused, "I'm not sure - I just know it's in winter, like, in a month."

"Maybe a pretty powder blue?" She looked to Bucky, who nodded. "Or how about a pale green? Like an olive tone?"

"She looks gorgeous in anything," Bucky smirked from behind you, taking another pull of his coffee.

"What about that brown number?" You asked, ignoring the way his compliments made you feel like the only girl he's ever seen in the world.

"You have a very good eye, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria nodded. She asked her coworker to go find your size, taking you back into the dressing room. You narrowed down the options without changing again, not wanting anything black or dark since it was a wedding and not a funeral. Though, you knew Bucky would disagree.

You showed your boyfriend a pretty little green dress, but he shook his head. "I thought the black was nice," he told you.

"I'm not wearing black to a wedding," you laughed lightly. "It screams bad luck to me, don't you think?"

"Think it's more of a statement, sayin' the entire event is a sham and they shouldn't be doing this," Bucky snickered, the other attendant, Laura, returning with a pretty brown dress. "That satin?" He asked, rubbing the material when it was presented to you both.

"It's very fashionable now," Laura nodded, "and it's not too dark."

"Since when is it a rule to not wear dark colors to a wedding? I miss the memo?" Buck leaned back to his seat.

All three women offered him a small look, you chuckling under your breath before Valeria was leading you back into the changing room. "If I may, Mrs?" She spoke softly, "I've known Mr. Barnes for a number of years but he's never brought anyone into the store. Then, one day, he tells me he needs a new suit because the 'girl of his dreams' had agreed to a date, and every time since then?" She smiled softly at you, "He's sang your praises. I'm very honored you're trusting me with helping you today."

"Oh," you blinked in shock, giggling nervously, "well, thank you very much, Valeria, now I know why his suits are always top of the line." She waved you off, making you add, "And for the record, I'm not Mrs. Barnes, guess that'd be his mother, wouldn't it?"

"Oh," her eyes widened, gasping softly, "oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I just - he talks so highly about you - "

"No, it's okay, it's okay," you rushed, patting her arm. "I actually kind of like it..."

She hummed, zipping you into another dress, "You know, he's the reason my girl and I are together."

"Really? How'd that happen?"

Valeria chuckled, "He's very bold, your man. We were getting coffee one day, discussing his wardrobe for a business trip he had in Hong Kong, when my lady walked in. I went all silly and stupid, and Mr. Barnes just," she shook her head with a fond smile, "brazenly asked her out for me, in front of the whole shop."

"Oh, Jesus, yeah - sounds like him."

"Well, luckily, it worked, else I don't think he would've come back for my assistance. I was so embarrassed, you have no idea, but my lady - Charlie - thought it was charming and cute. Mr. Barnes hasn't let me live it down since. Says he demands an invite to the wedding." She met your eyes through the mirror, offering, "And I'd be really happy to give him a plus one, hmm?"

"You're so sweet," you whispered, turning to survey the dress. You spent the better part of three hours there, trying on dress after dress, nitpicking almost everything as you just weren't sure what to wear. Bucky wasn't much help, he just approved everything.

So, it was up to Valeria and Laura to help you; bringing out iPads and design books, trying to piece something together that best fit your comfort and the vibe of the wedding. You didn't want to look like a walking money bag since your family wasn't by any means wealthy, thinking it would be a slap to their faces since your boyfriend could spend his money without ever thinking about it. You didn't want to give your family any reason to talk behind your back.

"I like the brown satin," Laura offered softly, looking you over in the mirror. "But the blue is just wow, it really looks like it was made for you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I think the green compliments her eyes more," Valeria cocked her head in thought. "Are you wearing your hair up or down?"

"Up," you answered, trying to mimic the look by pulling your locks off your shoulders, "with thin jewelry, I think."

"Diamonds?"

"Pearls, if I can find a dress that looks nice with it," you smiled, seeing Bucky's reflection in the mirror watching you with a soft smile on his face; head titled in thought before his phone chimed again and warranted his attention. "Maybe we could try the pink dress?" You looked to the two women for an opinion.

"No," Valeria shook her head, "it washes you out. And pink in winter? Oh, sweetie, I'd lose my job if I let you leave here with that. Guess that means you'll have to come back in the spring, right?"

You grinned in response as Laura chimed in, "The green's actually really nice, but the brown looks much better with your body type." Then she turned to Bucky, prompting, "Mr. Barnes? Final decision - which dress?"

Bucky paused, musing, "Lemme see them all again, get one last taste. It's between the green and brown numbers?"

"Or the blue," Valeria nodded. "C'mon, sweetie," she offered her hand to help you off the wee runway you were perched on in front of the magnificent mirrors.

"You look sensational in them all, doll, how the hell am I supposed to choose just one?" Bucky teased, his canines on display from the broad grin that stretched his lips.

"You'll find a way," you answered.

"Awh, telling me Mr. Big-Tough-Manly-Business-Man who makes impossible decisions everyday can't choose a simple piece of fashion?" Valeria tacked on.

"You guys can't pick either!" He laughed, "And you do a helluva lot more shopping than I do!"

Laura, Valeria, and you paused to exchange looks, you pointing at Bucky and relenting in a drawl, "Touché."

When you were escorted back into the dressing room, Laura waiting outside the door for your privacy with Valeria, Bucky sat back on the plush loveseat and extended his one arm over the back of the seating. He smirked to himself, shaking his head as if in disbelief - but he was. Bucky was in disbelief.

How did a rugged Mob boss find himself here? Watching his girl like a private fashion show?

His whole life, all he knew was turmoil, pain, drama, and fear. He knew he would inherit his father's well-built organization after he passed and knew what this life would entail; having no preconceived notions about a quiet life. He knew he would have to be tougher than tough, adaptable, intelligent, and confident in his role as the head of the 3-6 Brooklyn Mob. Knowing the idea of a family was farfetched, knowing he'd never know the simple pleasures in life, that he would constantly be on the move - in-able to form real, sentimental, emotional connections. He knew, in this life, he'd remain alone for everyone's best interest and safety, indulging in a series of flings and one-off relationships that couldn't haunt him.

Yet they did. These encounters reminded Bucky how alone, how stranded, how isolated, how different he was. Instead of satisfying an unquenchable thirst, these fleeting partners became heavy anchors to Bucky's reality and reminded him that there was no such thing as love - nor was there any room or logic.

And then... He met you. Bucky's lips silently spread in a grin as he remembered meeting you at a bakery; purchasing the last slice of coconut cream pie to your absolute chagrin. He thought you were gorgeous, something ethereal and unobtainable; authentic, raw, and unfiltered - things his one night stands could never measure up to. So, he offered you the slice of pie if it meant giving him your number as currency.

After that, it was impossible for Bucky to consider ever being alone again because you were the sun; center of the universe that drew everyone into your orbit. He was smitten, content, excited to date you, turned on by the fact you had no idea who he was - a rare occurrence in the city. You were pure as fresh snow; sweet, kind, affectionate, attentive, and borderline overly empathetic.

Bucky knew he was in love with you after only a few weeks when he had shown up at your apartment, dripping in blood. You didn't panic like he feared you would, just checked up and down the hallway before yanking him into your home. You cleaned him up, tending to wounds, offering a safe space for him to relax in; making mindless conversation to help distract him from the pain he endured.

And now? Now, Bucky was sat in Dior, giving his opinion on your wedding guest dress; wondering how he allowed himself to get to this point of being domestic. Bucky wasn't a man to give his opinion on dresses, what color nail polish you should use, to send fresh bouquets of flowers every other week. Yet here he was, sipping too-expensive coffee, deciding between brown, green, and blue dresses that he never would've batted an eye at.

However, that was just the domino effect you caused in his life. You were sweeter than apple pie, becoming Bucky's one tether to reality that saved him from losing himself in this dark, criminal mindset he adopted. You didn't know it, but you had transformed Bucky from a brooding asshole into a boyfriend; someone you were proud to claim and never hid from - never shied away from. He admired the way you came to terms with his job, knowing it was a hard pill to swallow and yet noting the way you just accepted him as he was.

Bucky realized in that moment that he adored this new aspect of life after thinking it was impossible to obtain. He adored sitting here, offering opinions on dresses, his security left outside instead of hovering over him like a brutal reminder he was seedy. He loved having you to come home to, he loved being part of your mundane world - a person who went to weddings, who drank Starbucks, who asked her boyfriend his opinion about how she looked in dresses. Who thought bouquets of flowers were romantic, who baked him homemade cakes for his birthday, who worked overtime in order to afford his Christmas or birthday presents, who walked to the takeout place instead of paying for delivery.

All that you are, Bucky adored deeply; falling in love with you each and every single day. All he wanted to do was protect you, share his life with you, even pick out outfits for weddings you would attend. He knew if any of the men in his organization knew the extent of his affection, they'd surely weaponize it against him... Or at the very least, tease him relentlessly. Yet he never cared, knowing you wanted to be loved out loud instead of hidden away in a storage closet; but did care if it meant his enemies could use you to get to him. It was a risk, an occupation hazard for loved ones to become targets, but that only made Bucky so much more protective of you.

Laura glanced at Bucky and saw the fond smile soften to let his teeth trap his bottom lip, smiling at the Mob boss looking soft, content, smitten being there. She knew most boyfriends would never put this much effort into helping their girlfriends in the fashion department, thinking he must've been truly in love to look so at-ease. Plus his enthusiasm through the entire ordeal assured her that Bucky was genuinely enjoying himself.

Once again, you slipped into the blue dress and showed Bucky. He hummed and snapped a photo, asking you to turn this way and that. Then you tried the green dress, him taking another photo, and finally, you changed into the brown satin dress, facing Bucky for his final verdict.

Bucky hummed in contemplation, swiping through the photos. "You know what?" He asked, looking at you with a grin. "You look delectable in everything, I can't decide - so, let's just get them all."

"Bucky, no - "

"We'll take all three, Valeria, please," Bucky interrupted you.

You waited until the attendants left you alone with a knowing look shot in your direction to ring up the desired purchases, hip cocking and hands to your hips. With an underlying exasperation, you questioned, "What the hell, Buck?"

He grinned and stood, again, buttoning his suit jacket, "C'mon, princess, this is fun, right? Being spoiled?." His arms wrapped around your waist, looking down at you as if you hung the very sun that sucked him into your orbit. "What's the point of all my money if I can't spend it on you? Huh?"

"You can save it for a rainy day?"

He shrugged, "Not necessary."

"Maybe pay to send some underprivileged kids to go to college?"

"Well, there's a thought," your boyfriend mused, "but I already do that through the Stark Foundation. I sponsor a few scholarships."

"Okay, well, buying all three still doesn't help me decide what to wear," you chuckled, you mimicked his action and wrapped your arms tightly around the base of his ribs. Due to his height, your head had to tip backwards to meet his eyes with a small smile.

You could look at this gorgeous man all day, everyday if God ever permitted such an act. Why wasn't dating a paid activity? You'd be the top earner with the way you were absolutely enthralled with all Bucky Barnes was. And what an honor it was to earn his mutual adoration.

"We'll figure it out at home. Gotta get you moving in the material to make an honest judgement," he offered softly. "But you look gorgeous in all of them, baby, seriously. Like, drop dead gorgeous that makes every girl brim with jealousy. Shit, doll, you're gonna run the risk of outshining the bride."

You sighed, "Look, Buck, I appreciate what you're doing, but three designer dresses? Where the hell am I ever gonna wear them? What kinda event calls for overpriced fashion statements?"

Buck eased with a soft expression, "Guess I'll just have to take you out so you can put them all to good use, huh?"

"That's not a solution!"

"Is to me," he let a hand drift to roughly palm the meat of your ass cheek over the brown satin; another symptom of him being whipped, his comfort over public displays of affection. "Seriously, doll, how the hell did I get so lucky?"

"Hmm?"

"Just look at you, my girl," he chuckled lightly, "radiant in anything you put on. It's almost unfair, makes me wonder what I did so right to have someone like you I can call my own. I can't wait to show you off in those dresses, just look so Goddamn tantalizing. I mean, damn, baby, I'm gonna have to fight off men with my gun and the jealous women with a stick."

"You do realize we're already dating, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

"And you do realize being with you makes me the luckiest bastard in the city, right? Least I can do is spoil you, I've already got everything else I've ever wanted."

Your heart swelled at his words, sighing gently as your chin rested on his chest to keep your head tilted. Softly, you admitted, "I don't think you're the lucky one, pretty sure the honor's mine. I couldn't ask for anything more in a man - in a partner. I'm so fucking in love with you, Bucky, it honestly doesn't make sense."

He nodded, asking, "Know what else doesn't make sense?"

"What's that?"

"You refusing those dresses, I mean, c'mon!" He laughed, you groaning and releasing your hold; making his tighten to prevent you from escaping. "Those dresses look phenomenal on you, you really gonna reject my gift? C'mon, you know the rules, doll, if you adore her, you Dior her." You were ready to retort, but Bucky smiled, "For the record, I think you should wear the blue dress to the wedding."

"Blue it is," you smiled, lifting onto your toes and hooking a hand around the back of his neck to meet his lips in a scratchy kiss. "Thank you so much, baby," you whispered, feeling his lips spread against yours before he brought you back in for a much-more passionate kiss. "Hm!" You hummed, pulling away to scold, "But no more, all right? You spend too much money on me - I mean, who the hell needs three designer dresses?"

"You do," he whispered, "you deserve all of this, sugar, and I'll do what I can t'spoil you the way you should be. Might as well get used to it, I got no plans on stopping."

Your eyes rolled in good faith, excusing yourself, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Lemme get changed and we can - "

"Nah," he shook his head, petting the skin of your back exposed from the brown satin dress with his fingertips, "know what? Stay in the dress, I wanna take you out and show you off."

Your lips found his in a breath-sucking kiss, trying to convey your appreciation and giddiness over never having been spoiled like this in your entire life - feeling grateful, refreshed, and privileged for a man like Bucky in your life. Whatever greater force there was in this world, you thanked repeatedly for choosing you to love this man and for this man to love you. There was no telling what you did to deserve him, but blessed be those heavenly powers.

requesting rules and masterlist

MCU masterlist

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol Switcharoo (pt2)

Stan pines x reader /ford pines x reader

Summary: Your family vacation lasted longer than expected. When you return home to Stanford, you realize quickly something wrong.

Warning: NONE

Hey! Just some housekeeping before you read on

☆Thanks for all the love ya'll it means bunches

☆this part is shorter do to me wanting to pace this better, but I hope yall enjoy none the less!

☆a few of ya'll asked to be tagged so I'm starting a tag list if you'd like to be included don't hesitate to ask

☆additionally I did have a Playlist for this specific series and if ya'll would like me to post the songs for it also lemme know

Enjoy!

~~~~~☆~~~~~

"STANLEY HELP!"

Stan felt himself freeze up, his heart race and mind go blank, why couldn't he think? Why couldn't he move?

He watched in horror as his brother floated up backwards through the air into the gaping hole in space and time.

"Do something!"

"What...what do i do!?" He asked meekly, looking around for something to help.he watched as parts of his brother slowly disappeared, and as he reached into his coat pocket and tossed something at him. "Hide my research...CALLL Y/N ANYTHING-"

Stan shielded his eyes as a bright white light filled the room and knocked him back onto the floor. The room was suddenly quiet.

"Ford!?...Ford! Come back!" He wasted no time to get back up and bang on the machine, hoping it would start back up like an old appliance. "Please!"

He raced to the lever a few feet away, desperately pulling and yanking at it, but it didn't budge.

"Stanford!?...Ford!? Are you home yet!?" The small coo of an unfamiliar voice snapped Stan from his nightmare.

"Hello!?" The voice echoed out again. He quickly got up, reaching for his only form of security. A baseball bat.

The voice had gone silent, but he could still hear someone moving he took a long pause, then opened the door swinging his bad.

"FORD WAIT! WAIT, IT'S ME! ITS Y/N!!"

Y/n?

He stopped swinging the bat and stared down at you.

"Call y/n! Anything-"

"Y/n?"

"Yes, it's me, Ford! I haven't been gone that long have i?"

He cleared. "No not at all we have some catching up to do."

You could tell there was something ford...well stan (you'd have to get used to the sudden name change) wanted to tell you while you sat across from him. Like he wanted to give you bad news. But he seemed to be thinking of the right way to put it.

"So..stan...what made you want to change from Ford to stan? Did your family have that much of an impact on you?" You tried to joke to lighten the tension that seemed to linger in the air.

"Well...something like that...listen y/n-"

"Are you OK? You seem...different you seem nervous...more nervous then when I left.." You placed your hand over top of his and offered a reasuring smile.

"I..."

stan didn't know you...he had no right to lie to you. But Ford seemed to trust you and judging from the photo on his desk in the basement, how fondly he seemed to write about you in the journal...the scrapped drawings of you in the garbage you meant a whole lot more to him then stan could understand right now, you must have felt the same way about his brother.

He remembered how worried his brother had been in making sure he understood you were absolutely under no circumstances to not touch the journals or anything pertaining to it again.

"My closest friend y/n and I have been working on this project for months now...I should have listened to her but I didn't...I need you to get rid of this journal she can't be near any of this when she returns."

"Did something happen with the portal?...with that...creature? And what happened to your hands!" You said now, pulling both hands into yours to examine them.

Besides, you already seemed so worried. He couldn't be the one to break the news to you. Not now.

Besides, he had a plan.

Sort of.

So he did what he did best.

Lied.

"Well...uh while you were away, I had a little accident. I had to get surgery...yea surgery, and the accident you know was from the portal...so I said, Forget the whole thing! "

He Tried to say it in a way that would convince even himself.

"Stanford, what do you mean? What happened? Are you just going to give up on everything we worked for?"

"I have to, I just need some time."

Neither of you noticed at first that you were holding hands as you spoke. Stan was the first to notice the closeness. It was the first time in what felt like years that anyone had shown him this kind of affection, let alone the kindness you were demonstrating with your concern.

"I don't know what happened while I was away or when you even had time for something to go wrong or why you would even start working again without me!" He noticed the slight annoyance building up and squeezed your hand.

And you took a breath. "But I understand and I won't pretend to know what happened and if you aren't ready to tell me I can respect that...things got a little rocky between us before I left and I'm really just hoping things can go back to the way they used to be with us. If a longer break and time is what you need... then I am 100% behind your decision."

He felt a wave of relief wash over him at your words. Maybe it wasn't your words but the kind-hearted look in your eyes, or maybe it was the way you still held his hands in yours.

You'd be the first two admit two things about your current situation.

One, Nostalgia was a funny thing. You knew when something was off about your bestfriend, the man infront of you was was a changed man, while his story didn't add up he looked shaken and defeated...after all this was the man you trusted with half your life. And you wouldn't lie, you had clung so desperately to the memories of college and spring through winter, it was that glimmer of hope and a mix of Nostalgia for your good times together that made you believe him.

And two, You always knew better then to trust your heart you and Ford would joke about the idea of following your heart and not your brain, how silly a concept it was that the organ that pumped blood through your body had such a pull on your decision making it made your thought process stop.

Yet here you where.

Following your heart.

"How about a few drinks and I can tell you about my trip?" You offered standing and being the first to break the lock between your hands. "And I can tell you about the plans I have for this place!"

"Plans?"

"Sure! I mean, we aren't doing our science junk anymore, so we need to make money somehow, right?"

You set down two glasses.

"Ok?"

You sat down, you listened to him explain how he had already done a few tours displaying whatever you had already had laying around and how people where eating it up.

"Stanford you've never been one for the gimmicky tricks, you've always cared more about the real deal...WE'VE been about the real deal...why lie to people?"

"Trust me y/n do a tour with me tomorrow try to show the people a real life monster and whatchamacallit and put it up against my made up creature."

You laughed. This wasn't what you had expected Stanford pines to spend his break away from work doing. It was out of character for him. But refreshing somehow.

Just like that, the seasons changed, and it was spring again

You learned quickly people didn't like the truth.

Real monsters and ghouls seemed to only upset or bother people so you and stan collaborated a way to make attractions that seemed real enough but also gimmicky enough that tourists would eventually laugh at it.

You learned pretty quickly that you were not only a pretty crafty person but an excellent storyteller.

You and Stanford seemed to almost pick up where you left off bonding and cracking jokes. It was like he was more confident than when you left him, more relaxed and full of life. You two fit right back into place with eachother with out missing a beat.

It's exactly what you'd been missing.

Soon, you were renovating half the house to be a showroom and giftshop, and soon after you were selling and wearing t shirts, you began putting up a sign. By the following summer, you were basically an operational business.

The mystery shack felt more like a brain child of you and Stanford and you cared for it like such.

It was something fun.

Something that didn't seem to be running Stanford down like the science stuff did. You could see a genuine smile on his face as he showed some local kid the corni-corn.

It was silly. You couldn't remember the last time you'd done something silly and adventurous.

It felt good.

"Another day another dollar y/n my dear." Stan said, flipping the open sign to close and placing his little red fez cap on top of your head.

"Soon enough, we'll have people from all over the place coming to get a piece of the mystery shack." He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, leading you back to the section of the Mystery shack that was still your shared home.

"Yea, we have a real Walt Disney start-up story, don't we stanford." He laughed loudly before suddenly getting serious.

"Listen. I wanted to say thank you for sticking with me through this. It means a lot."

"Of course, stanford." You reached up and planted a small peck on his cheeks. "We've been through everything together. I'm not going to stop now."

You could see stans face flush slightly as you stretched and yawned. "Anyways goodnight stanford."

"Uh yea...goodnight..." You heard him mumble as he touched his cheek where you kissed him.

Things where looking up.

~~~~~☆~~~~~

Tag list!:

@fanficcrow

@slay-thou-pookie

[suguann]

tags. fem!reader, the overused 'i know we're supposed to be fwb but i fell in love with you anyway' trope, confessions, gojo mentally spiraling during sex over how much he's in love with you because that's a very him thing to do [18+ only]

Gojo can’t tear his eyes off you as you move above him—riding his cock like this would be the last time you’d ever feel it inside you. That thought twists his insides, his fingers digging into your hips as if you might float away before he ever really had a chance to voice the words he’s been too scared to say.

But he couldn’t really stop you if you wanted to leave—that’s how the groundwork of uncomplicated arrangements like these work, at least in the beginning. He likes to think that a lot has changed since that night in your living room between two drunk, lonely people with nothing to lose aside from your torn underwear in his haste to get them down your soft legs and an old condom tucked away in his wallet.

The feeling sneaks up on him without his knowing, a throbbing in his chest that festers and grows over time until he can’t ignore it anymore or contain it in the proverbial cup of his hands no matter how hard he tries.

It doesn’t dampen how much he wants to mold the shape of his cock inside your tight little cunt, to ruin you for anyone else who thought they even had a chance, to have his name be the first thing you think of when you cum. He wants to make every part of you his, and he only hopes you want the same thing, too.

He groans at the thought, gripping you tight to slam his hips up into you. “Tell me who’s fucking you so good. Tell me who’s the only one that gets to make you cum.”

“You, Toru!” you sob, holding onto his biceps to keep yourself from falling against his chest. It has his balls drawing up tight, and he sucks in a breath to stop this from being over too soon.

“That’s right, pretty girl,” he grunts. “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. I’m the only one who gets to feel this sweet princess cunt.” He leans up to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, groaning when he feels you clench down around him.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” you choke out.

“Yeah?” His fingers circle over your clit as he shoves his cock deeper inside of you to take you there faster, nipping at the swell of your breast. “Fuck, give it to me, baby. Lemme feel it.”

His name is soft and sweet on your tongue as you cum, squeezing around him until his eyes roll back from how good it feels. It has him following after you, grinding his cock as far as it can go while he pulses and fills you to the brim. There’s so much that he feels it leak out of your little hole and drip down his balls to pool in an uncomfortable wet puddle forming beneath him.

He rolls away from the mess when you both catch your breath, his softening cock still tucked away between your wet thighs. You stroke his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp, and he buries his face into your chest, words weighing heavy in his chest.

Maybe he should cut the bullshit already, say what he wants to say, and get let down easy while he still has a chance to recover from rejection—

“Sleep with me?” he asks, voice muffled and a shade of red high on his cheeks.

You giggle, lightly tugging on his hair. “I probably need at least—”

“No,” he cuts you off nervously, heat rising to his ears. “No sex. Just to sleep��here. With me?”

When you don’t say anything right away, he wonders if there’s any way he can take back his words and whether you’d believe him if he told you it was all a joke. But then you tug the blanket over both of you, tucking the corners in so the air from the ceiling fan doesn’t reach your cooling skin, and continue running your fingers through his hair.

There’s a warmth in his chest, which he thinks might be what love feels like.

After a moment, you say, “If you steal the blankets, I’m kicking you off the bed.”

Gojo snorts, smiling against your breast. “But it’s my bed.”

You hum. “Yes, and I’ll do it anyway.”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m still going to fuck you later.”

“Go to sleep, Satoru.” He can’t see it but knows you’re smiling, too.

Masterlist

[aluciahaz]

One bed trope with Adam except we wake up in the middle of night feeling him unconsciously grinding his hard-on against us and we take it into our hands (literally) to help him🫣

( he wakes up before we actually do anything so it’s all consensual ofc.. )

🦅🦅LETS FUCKIBG GOO🦅🦅 i love (babying) this dumb bitch!!! this is kinda more ooc adam but i hope you still like it !

truth prevails

—adam x gn!reader

—tags : handjob, bottom adam, dom!reader, absolute overuse of the nickname baby and baby boy 😭

what a fucking wake up call.

you really should’ve just made adam sleep on the couch.

honestly, you aren’t even that surprised that he was grinding against you while asleep, murmuring your name in a soft voice. it was quite nice actually, compared to his usually brash one.

especially his whimpers.

“lemme cum...please-fuck….” his head would nuzzle further into your neck, his breath hot against your skin as his hips kept bucking up. so he was in that type of mood, huh?

well… then maybe it wouldn’t hurt to indulge in his fantasies for a just little bit. after all, it was hard to get him to bottom without him throwing a tantrum. which, of course would just lead him to get wrecked, just the way he liked it.

“adam.”

“mm…mhm?” his eyes slowly open, his arms still around your waist as you turn around to look at him. his confused expression is almost cute in a way, although a bit disheveled with his hair falling in front of his face.

“what were you dreaming about, baby?” you ask, a smirk forming on your lips as you stroke his hair, running your fingers through his coarse strands. your other hand snakes around to his hip, teasing his waistband just slightly.

adam, now shocked, looks at you with an almost abashed expression before clearing his throat, going back to his egotistical persona.

“uh, psh, fucking you, duh,”

well, at least he was honest. somewhat.

“and begging for me to let you cum?” you ask bluntly, raising your eyebrow at him as you chuckle. his mien was what you could on describe as flabbergasted. it was clear he had no idea what he was doing to you just a few minutes ago.

clueless, cute, baby.

you coo at him, the hand on his hair moving down underneath his chin as you cup it gently. still sleepy, instead of pulling away with a scoff like usual, he leans into it, letting his instincts take over.

“how would you know?” he says with a grin, clearly doubtful, yet the anxious twitch of his smile shows that he was less relaxed than he portrayed himself to be.

“you talk in your sleep.”

“…” he stares at you for a few seconds before laughing nervously.

“nooooo…?”

the deadpan expression on your face says it all. so much so it makes him feel way too awkward, forcing him to retract his statement.

“…sorry.”

“i don’t know why you try even and lie when you’re so bad at it.”

he frowns at you, furrowing his eyebrows.

“whatever! are you gonna do something about my hard-on or keep making digs at me?”

“i could always do both.”

the smirk on your face widens as your hand slips past his waistband, your hands tracing his v-line ever so delicately, your touch light as an angel’s feather.

“you just have to say please.”

“fuck you.”

“not today, honey,”

adam just rolls his eyes, grumbling as he ponders on what to do. that’s not good, he isn’t made to think.

quickly, your hand under his chin places a finger on his bottom lip, just barely tipping over to make its way inside of his mouth to distract him.

“come on, baby. don’t you want to be a good boy for me?” you kiss his neck, gentle and sweet like a divine’s touch. “just think about how nice it would be to let everything go, let me take care of you. my perfect, little angel.”

he stifles a moan, but with how close the two of you were, you could hear it clear as day. usually, it would take way longer to get him in such a state, but apparently the tedious process was 2 times faster when he was sleepy.

clearly this means you should do this more often.

"...please-ah!"

he can't even finish his sentence before your hand wraps around his cock, stroking it in nice, slow movements as you whisper in his ear. "good boy!" you praise, your fingers leaving his lips and slipping underneath his light shirt. with the tips of your fingers, you pull and twist at his sensitive buds, reveling in his sweet whimpers and cries as his chest jerks up into your hand.

"tell me what you really dreamt of, baby. were you all pliant underneath my hand? maybe even getting fucked by me? tell me truth."

all he can do is whine as his legs quiver, digging his head further into the crook of your neck as he pants. his wings start to flap a little against the bed, and only from a few touches.

"okay okay! i—yeah," he tried gulped away his embarrassment, but the heat on his face was a clear indicator of his nervousness. "you—you fucked me and told me all these-these stupid little compliments-yes, oh—!"

you laugh as you he bucks his hips into your grip, trying to chase more pleasure before pulling away, deaf to the groan of annoyance coming from the man.

"don't get greedy, baby boy." you chide, shaking your head in disapproval. "take what you get, nothing more, and maybe you'll get a reward!" you say, kissing his cheek sweetly in contrast to your cruel command.

"oh—oh, okay! oka—ayy!" he mewls shakily, clawing at your waist as he tries to stop his hips from moving. surprisingly, he does quite well, letting you take control of the pace with only a few jerks up into your fist. but, you decide to let it go, after all, adam was being sweeter than usual.

"alright, alright, you can move now, baby. you did so good for me."

"yes! finally—ngh! fuck—thank you...!" he cries, moving his hips quickly into your grasp as he finds himself getting lost in his own pleasure.

you didn't even need to remind him to be grateful, how polite! he's learning!

he wails your name like a weeping sinner, hoping that you'd grace him with your love and mercy.

which, of course you would. for once, he's earned it without much push at all! perhaps this would set as an example on what he should do next time instead of being a brat all the time.

"cum for me, my love. you deserve it," you croon, moving your fist faster and faster with his pace. the hand on his chest presses harder onto his nipple, twisting the way you know he loves—as much as he denies he's a masochist, you know by the way he keens that he's just being proud—and let him keep babbling about anything that comes to his muddled little mind. yeah, you'll bless him just this once.

"i love you, love—love you, i love—ah—ah!"

adam sobs shamelessly as he reaches his climax, his hips stuttering as he slowly returns from his high. his whole body goes limp as he shuts his eyes, his hands falling from your waist as he steadies his breathing.

you wipe the tears away from his eyes, peppering his face with kisses.

“see? this is what you get for being good.”

“mm..mmmhm,” adam hums mindlessly before falling into silence. strange, he was usually big on pillow talk—

you hear a soft snore coming from beneath you, slow breaths loud amongst the quietude of your shared bedroom.

…seems like your baby boy fell asleep.

a/n - please someone request like a mommy/daddy kink for any of the goobers i write for i am INSPIRED rn im opening my reqs rn 😭

tags : @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

[drabblesandimagines]

Hi there, I would like to request Cloud, if thats okay. A sparring session that leads into an unexpected kiss?

Just read you are feeling under the weather, hope you feel better soon!

Sweet anon, I'm sorry this took me literally months! Please lemme know what you think x

It’s late as you leave your room at Stargazer Heights, pulling the door closed behind you with a gentle click. The weight of your new sword still feels unnervingly foreign on your back as you head down the stairs carefully, not wanting to disturb any of your neighbours’ sleep with your heavy footfalls.

Just because you couldn’t sleep didn’t mean theirs should suffer in return.

Your beloved, trusty sword, after many years of faithful service in the Watch, had snapped clean in two after a particularly good thwack against a hard-shelled creature whilst on a job in the scrapyard earlier that day. If that wasn’t enough, it just had to happen in front of Cloud Strife, the blonde ex-Soldier who had joined the Avalanche ranks - temporarily, at least – and who you were somewhat hoping to impress with your mastery of the blade as common ground over the past few weeks.

“You’d be good for him, you know?” Tifa had teased over the bar one night, catching you staring a little too long as he sat down the opposite end, nursing a drink. You’d have told her to hush if Barret’s voice wasn’t booming around the establishment, meaning you were lucky to have even heard her comment in the first place.

Instead, you answer flustered. “What? I… He’s your… No!”

“I don’t like him like that, sweetie.” She’d reassured, patting your hand with a smile. “Plus, I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

“Me?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t think he’s aware I exist, not with how Jessie has been all over him.”

“Mm.” Tifa purses her lips in thought before they pulled back into a knowing smile – she’d caught the merc’s gaze flickering in your direction before it settled back on the drink before him. “No, I think Cloud’s warming up to you. Let me see what I can do.”

“Tifa-“

Biggs’ warm hand wrapped around your arm and tugged you up from the bar and away from your protest in an instant. “Come on, you owe me a rematch and I’ve finally convinced Wedge to let us have a round.”

You concede, destroying Biggs at darts once again would be a good distraction from the blonde at the bar. Besides, what could Tifa do anyway?

--

What Tifa could do, apparently, was make it so whenever Cloud took on a job, Biggs or Wedge would insist you tag along to help him navigate the area – sometimes with Tifa, sometimes without – and that’s what had led you to today, stuck deep within the scrapyard with a broken blade.

You’d never been any good with your fists, nor could aim a gun straight – despite tips from Tifa and Biggs over the years – so, reluctantly, you’d been relegated to the back line for the rest of the outing. At the most, you could fling a spell or two from the materia still equipped in the broken hilt when you could.

Unfortunately, it meant you didn’t have anything really to defend yourself with whilst the materia recharged. A nasty hit from a retreating drake had sent you tumbling backwards, head literally over heels. It dived back down at you, realizing you were now easy prey, ready to go for a nasty bite when a certain blonde merc’s sword dug into its side, sending it flying over in Tifa’s direction who finished it off with a perfectly executed roundhouse kick – all before your life could flash before your eyes.

“Are you okay?” Cloud crouches in front of you, his sword already sheathed, and places a hand on your arm as he awaits your answer. His expression, usually stoic and unreadable, is marred by a slight furrow in his brow as he looks you over with concerned Mako-blue eyes.

He must find you at least tolerable, you’d decided, as he didn’t seem to protest as much when you joined them on jobs like this around the slums.

Though maybe not ever again after today’s pathetic display.

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling foolish. “Still in one piece. Thanks for that.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugs and gets to his feet, offering you his hand in assistance.

You take it, relishing the feeling as his gloved fingers wrap around your palm. He pulls you up with a little too much gusto – or maybe underestimates his own strength - sending you stumbling forward. You try and catch your balance, only to find your hand placed firmly against his chest, his other hand now on the small of your back in alarm.

“Uh…”

“S-sorry,” you stutter out and retreat back, bowing your head as your face feels horrendously warm. Somewhere behind you, Tifa poorly attempts to hide a giggle.

“It’s fine.” His tone is back to his usual curt manner. “Come on - we should head back.” And without another word, Cloud spins on his heels and storms off ahead.

“Cloud, wait up!” Tifa calls, threading her arm through yours to pull you along with her. “He’ll get there – don’t worry.”

--

You’d taken the blade in to the weapons store below the Watch’s HQ after reporting in, Cloud and Tifa following behind. The proprietor dutifully inspected it for a few moments before deeming it beyond reasonable repair - said he could re-forge it, but it would only last a hit or two before it snapped in two again and he didn’t want the bad advertisement. He’d offered some gil for the scrap metal value and waved to the selection of his ready-made wares. Even with the gil he’d proposed and from your own pocket, the prices made your eyes water.

“Can I pay in instalments?”

He scoffs.

“You know I’m good for it.”

“This ain’t a charity, kid.”

“Here.” Cloud had stepped forward then, placing a pouch of gil on the counter. “That should cover it.”

“What?” Your eyes widened in disbelief. Cloud had been hounding Tifa and Barret for his pay for days and you knew he still hadn’t received all of it yet. “No, I couldn’t – that’s yours.”

“You need a weapon.” He shrugs, Tifa bouncing on her heels behind him at his act of generosity, a told you so smile plastered across her face. “Pay me back in instalments, if you want. I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods, crossing his arms. “You’re good with a blade, it would be a waste for you not to have one.”

Your scalp tingles at the compliment.

The blades all felt lighter - maybe you’d grown stronger over time? - though they were thinner in width in comparison to your old blade. You’d performed a cautionary test swing of each towards the back of the shop but they all felt off, unbalanced. Begrudgingly, one felt a little less odd to wield so you’d settled with that, thankful it was a mid-range price of the selection so you hadn’t needed the entirety of Cloud’s gil pouch.

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can – I promise.”

Cloud shrugs, as usual.

--

You swing at the tower of boxes you’d assembled in the middle of the wasteland, trying to be precise and knock out the one in the middle, but as soon as you release the momentum you nearly lose your balance, missing entirely. If you were in combat, it would’ve been a pathetic sight to behold. Thankfully, you were the only one to wit-

“Hi.”

You jump, spinning on your heels to face the blonde mercenary, holding your blade aloft in a defensive stance to an unimpressed face.

“Cloud! Hi.” Your heart is pounding at his sudden arrival – how could you not have heard him approaching? You lower your blade to rest on the floor. “Sorry, did I wake you when I left?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep so I heard you leave.” He folds his arms, looking a little displeased. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own, you know? It’s not safe.”

“I wanted to get some practice in, that’s all.” You look down at the sword in your hand in demonstration. “There’s been no more wererats here since you cleaned out the nest either, so it’s safe enough.”

“It’s not just fiends I’m talking about.”

That’s true – unfortunately, you weren’t a complete stranger to the troopers that often patrolled the slums. All it took was one to recognize your face and you’d be dragged to Shinra HQ faster than you could blink.

“I really need to get used to the weight, though. Barret wants to strike any day and-“

“Fine. I’ll spar with you.”

You weren’t expecting that. “Really?”

“Why not?” He reaches back for his sword, before swinging it out in front of him playfully. “Unless you’re scared.”

You bite your lip in a smile. “Bring it on, Strife.”

Cloud holds back at first, acting more as a training dummy for you to swing at. He doesn’t even need to deflect any of your blows at the beginning, but as you become familiar with the weight and how the new blade swings, finally he starts to raise his sword in return, the sound of metal clashing echoing through the air before one firm blow sends you toppling back, the Buster Sword now inches above your neck.

“Better.” He pulls back his sword and offers you his hand, which you gratefully accept, bracing yourself for his strength this time to avoid what had happened that afternoon. “Try again.”

You’re not sure how much time passes like that, but steadily your confidence in your weapon grows and it turns into a proper sparring bout, both giving it your absolute all. As your blades clash, crossed in front of each other’s faces, you risk a smile at the blonde merc. Suddenly, Cloud’s forearms lose their tension, meaning you get an upperhand you were not expecting. You swing your sword out to the right and fall forward, Cloud toppling backwards, his sword to his right, and his head smacking into the ground as you fall on top of him.

“Oh… Shiva,” you gasp, heart pounding, your thighs somehow straddling around his. “Are you hurt?”

Cloud doesn’t reply, staring up at you in bemusement as he tries to catch his breath.

“Cloud?” You lean down, planting your hands either side of his head for balance.

He lifts his head, suddenly, and presses a kiss to your lips.

Your arms go limp and you drop into his embrace, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close as you return the kiss, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, fingers curling into his blonde hair, blissfully lost in the moment until there is an odd, inhuman sound from behind you.

Cloud sits bolt upright, twisting you as he does so you’re sat in his lap, one arm still wrapped tightly around your waist and, somehow, the Buster Sword back in his other hand as he holds it out in defense.

A cat sits a few meters in front of the two of you, flicking its tail back and forth curiously. You feel his muscles relax beneath your touch at the realization. You get to your feet then, grabbing your blade as you do so and securing it against your back. Though you feel flustered, you can’t turn down the opportunity to offer Cloud an assisting hand this time.

To your delight, he accepts, somehow twisting it as he stands in order to intertwine your fingers within his.

“We… We, er, should get back.” He mumbles.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He leads you back through the tunnel, silently, fingers still laced, and back towards Stargazer Heights. You climb the stairs together before he brings you to a stop outside your door, hesitating. Your stomach twists – does he regret what happened? Are you just to wake up tomorrow morning and it will feel like nothing but a dream?

A firm squeeze of your hand brings you back to the present, as if he could read your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about that for a while.” Cloud whispers, cautious of his voice carrying through the neighbours’ door. “It’s… unfortunate that we were interrupted.”

You place a hand on your door handle and smile, coyly. “Would you like to come in?”

Cloud smirks. “Do you have any pets?”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ v ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: sorry it took a while compared to the other chapters. i finished up my lab reports in my surveying class. this is not edited nor is it beta read and i dont remember much on what happened during the 2018-2021 seasons so pardon me if there are inaccuracies. anyways, welcome to max's pov. u can say im stalling on the shitshow that will happen once max discovers that reader resigned. lemme know what you think.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1

masterlist.

2018

“Who’s that?”

Daniel looks up, cheeks stuffed with the sandwich he was eating for lunch, “Who?”

Max cringes internally. His mother always told him and Victoria to not talk when his mouth was full, she called it bad manners, and now, he is understanding where she was coming from with those lectures. Nevertheless, he doesn't reprimand Daniel. Instead, he gestures to the girl standing a few meters away from their table in the Red Bull hospitality staff cafeteria, who was happily chatting with two Red Bull senior engineers whom Max recognizes to be Elijah Stuart and Richard Fox.

It is the first time Max has seen her. A new employee perhaps? Perhaps not. She lacks the company standard uniform.

Daniel trails his line of sight to where Max has pointed, “Which one? Richard?”

“No,” Max groans. Daniel blinks.

“Elijah?”

This is quickly becoming annoying.

“The girl, Daniel,” Max says, his exasperation bleeding through his words. “She’s not wearing a Red Bull polo.”

Daniel’s brows rise to his hairline, head snapping back to Max, “[Name]?”

Then, a shit-eating grin erupts on his lips. “Are you interested in her?”

“She’s not my type,” Max’s denial comes quickly. Is it even considered denial if it’s the truth? In his twenty almost twenty-one years being alive, Max never really put a lot of time into thinking about what his ideal type would look like. But he is sure that the woman of his dreams will look very far from the woman who was successful in catching his attention because you are wearing a black shirt in a sea of Red Bull polo shirts.

You with your eyes that forms into tiny crescent moons once your face breaks into a grin, you with your smile that shows too much gums and too much teeth, you with your hands that moves too much when you talk, and you with that too loud and too obnoxious laugh that comes even with the lamest of jokes. You’re like Daniel in a way. All happy sunshine vibes.

Max is watching you close, observing how you were interacting with Richard and Elijah. They're old men and no one should look this happy while talking to boring, old, white men, who worked more than four decades in the engineering industry so they only know how to speak boomer language and everything engineering. Surprisingly, Elijah and Richard seem to be having fun talking to you. A miracle on its own because they never even look that happy talking to Daniel Ricciardo and everybody in Red Bull Racing adores sunshine honey badger, Daniel Ricciardo.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You're thinking about it.”

“How would you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you’re currently on a quest to erase my singledom. I can put two and two together.”

Daniel snorts, crossing his arms over his chest, “Maybe I just want to let you meet new friends.”

“I have enough friends.”

“You don't have friends that are not racers.”

Max presses his lips in a thin line.

“She’s my manager, by the way.” says Daniel, leaning back into his seat.

“What happened to Nick?”

“He’s on leave,” Daniel says. “His wife’s giving birth soon. She’s my temporary manager for a few months. Or I don't know, maybe the whole season.”

Max brows rise in pleasant surprise but says nothing.

“Now that I think about it, she’s around your age. How old are you again? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty,” Max corrects. His birthday is still months away from pre-season. On the end of September.

“Ah, she's older than you. Oh wait, here she comes. Hey, [Name]! Here!”

Max flinches and his heart begins ramming against his ribs erratically that he thinks he’ll undergo cardiac arrest in a matter of seconds. He does a double take—why am I even panicking?—then forces himself to calm down and straightens up in his seat. His shoulders and neck are still considerably stiff and his palms are slowly becoming sweaty. He swallows an invisible stone in his throat.

“¡Hola mi amiga, [Name]!” Daniel greets and his Spanish accent sounds off that it makes [Name], who stopped right in front of their table, giggle and when Max looks up at her through his lashes, it almost feels like the world is turning too rapidly on its axis and it’s making Max dizzy. Daniel and her do a friendly handshake—when did they reach this level of friendship?

“Hola, Daniel,” she greets, smiling. Your accent reminds Max of Carlos, but unlike Carlos, who possesses a very distinct Spanish accent, yours sounded subtler than his and it's mixed with the charming rhythm of words that reminds Max of sunsets in the south. You pronounce Daniel’s name like it has two syllables instead of three. Dan-yel instead of Dan-i-el. Suddenly, Max is curious as to how his name will sound if it originates from her mouth, how the syllables will roll off her tongue. Max will still sound like Max. Nobody will mispronounce that name. But Emilian and Verstappen? How will you say it?

“Hi Max.”

The Max sounds plain even though you’re smiling when you greet him. She didn't say Max the same way she said Daniel, whose name was uttered with a certain fondness.

“Hello,” Max’s chin dips slightly into a nod.

“Eat with us,” Daniel invites and he is already dragging a chair from a nearby table to their table before Max can fully register what he’s doing.

“You sure?” you ask, brows raising slightly at Daniel’s abrupt invitation.

Daniel waves his hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah, Max wouldn't mind. Would you, Max?”

Suddenly, two pairs of eyes are on him and his throat feels dry. He cannot speak. No words leave his mouth. Empty brain, zero thoughts. In the end, he nods and you join the two for lunch.

Max frequently sees you following Daniel in the paddock. You remind him of a dog. No, even dogs do not follow their owners this much. Or do they? Max wouldn't know. He is a cat person anyway.

Max’s main point is this: not even the other racers’ managers follow them around this much. Not even Max’s manager follows him this much. (No one tell Max that this was due to the fact that he scares his own manager. Imagine a middle-aged man scared of a Dutch racer half his age with anger issues.) But you follow Daniel around like he is the sun and you are planet Earth and you need to be constantly revolving around him to achieve universal balance. And for some reason, your actions cause something odd to stir up in Max. He is annoyed. Of what? Maybe because you are so good to Daniel? Maybe he wants someone to be like that for him, too? His manager is not as proactive as you. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

And if you are not with Daniel, which is a rare occurrence, you’re hovering around the Red Bull mechanics. You even go as far as bringing them coffee in the mornings and that annoys Max even more. Daniel, he can understand if you brought him coffee, but the others? No. You don't even bring Christian Horner coffee. Why only them?

Whatever.

You are such a suck up. Max hates suck ups.

Baku 2018 was a bad race, a total nightmare for everyone in the team. The moment Max got out of that car, he was burning. Figuratively, at least. The engine of the RB14 is the one burning, in a literal sense. Horner is red in the face when he sees Max and Daniel, and he yells at them to cool down before they do the formal stuff of apologizing and dealing with the FIA and all the formalities that Max rather thinks are bullshit.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice raising, when he sees you approaching. “Aren't you supposed to be with Daniel?”

“Water?” you offer the water bottle to him and Max knows full well it’s supposed to be for Daniel. Max saw you offering it to Daniel earlier when the two of them stepped into the Red Bull garage after retiring from the race but the older man has declined your offer before stomping off somewhere else to cool down.

“No.”

He is not going to take the scraps of someone else, even though he is thirsty as hell.

You nod, shrugging your shoulders and saying, “Okay.”

You crouch on the floor and put the water bottle in front of him with a neatly folded face towel balancing on top of it. Then, you rise and walk away, leaving Max to glare at your back as you fade away from his view. Once you disappeared from his line of sight, he drags his gaze back to the water bottle and towel.

He drinks the water and then uses the towel to wipe his sweat. At that moment, Max decides that he will never allow himself to be beaten by Daniel ever again.

Max remembers the anger he feels when he discovers the news of Daniel leaving Red Bull.

“Was this because of Baku?!”

Daniel tries to explain his situation as calmly as he can but Max is all fire and flames and fury. He is only hearing Daniel’s words, not listening to them because all that he registers are the words “leaving” and “Renault” and “goodbye” and the rest are all just a bunch of ringing noise. Max knows where Daniel is coming from because he isn't dumb nor naive and he is aware that he is quickly becoming the team favorite, but did Daniel really need to leave?

Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving. He’ll have no friends left on the team.

Max’s fear of being left behind is often masqueraded as anger. The thing about Max is that his pain always turns to anger and his anger turns into violence.

He barely registers what he has done to Daniel until he sees his teammate—former teammate—on the floor, eyes wide and clutching his cheek. Max’s fist trembles. They are both horrified at what Max has done.

“Daniel, I—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?!” Daniel scrambles to a stand and lunges at Max. Max fears he’s going to get punched, too, and maybe he deserves it because he is the one who has thrown his fist first, but [Name] appears, quick as lightning, and rushes in between Daniel and Max.

“Daniel, calm down.”

Max is surprised you can hold Daniel down on your own. Daniel was a racer, had been since 2011, so he possessed the physical strength of a veteran racer and you, well, you're not. You’re shorter than them both, too.

Daniel is turning red in the face and fury paints his features. Max wants to fight, answer Daniel’s anger with his own. Fire to fire. Let them both burn until they achieve ruination.

“Nick!” you cry and at the call of his name, Nick appears quickly. “Hold Daniel!”

Your hands clutch Max’s nape and forearm and you quickly drag him away from the furious Daniel, leaving Nick to hold Daniel off and calm him down.

His ears are still ringing. Even after he's dragged away from the chaos. Even after he's brought into an empty room. Even after he sits down on a plush chair, face scarily blank while his mind runs for miles.

The ringing sound disappears when you tap his shoulder and asks, “You okay, big boy?”

His brain becomes a blank slate.

Max nods hesitantly, “Yeah.”

His knuckles are still tingling. He can still feel the remnants of the violence of his fist, can still feel the sting when his knuckles met Daniel’s cheek.

“Injuries?”

Why do you only speak words instead of full sentences?

You scan Max’s face for injuries and Max holds his breath when you lean your face closer to see clearly.

“No—No injuries.”

Your shoulders sag in relief, “Good. Thank fuck. Horner wouldn't be happy if golden boy got clocked.”

You pull yourself away and Max feels like he can breathe again. Then, you pivot on your heels.

“I’ll get you water.”

“No!”

You flinch and then turn to him slowly, your eyes growing wide and mouth falling slightly open. Max mirrors your surprise. You blink at him. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, your forehead creases and you close your mouth.

“No need to yell at me,” you mumble but Max hears it loud and clear and now, his anger is spiking up again.

“Fine, go!”

You raise a brow at him, giving him a long look. A sigh escapes your lips. You leaned against the door, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why aren't you leaving?”

“You don't want me to,” you say in a know-it-all tone.

“I told you to go!”

“What you want and what you say are two different things. Don't worry, I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

Max doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he sits there in the silence with his thoughts and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He’s sure you noticed that he’s trying not to cry, not with you standing in front of him. Max always makes weird faces when he forces himself not to cry.

But then you turn your back on him, not to leave, but to give him the privacy he needs.

His tears fall silently.

The 2018 WDC was Lewis Hamilton, who garnered 408 points by the end of the year. Max finishes in fourth, only after the Ferrari drivers, Sebastian Vettel and Kimi Raikkonen. The world thinks it is not a bad result. Max is still young and he’s battling three WDCs for points. But Max thinks otherwise. Winning is number one. The rest is just losing. The only thing he knows is he's not good enough. Jos is thinking of the same thing, too. He knows it.

Everytime someone congratulates him, Max has to bite his tongue and fake a smile. He can only feel anger, for finishing up fourth. It's like people are constantly reminding him of what he failed to become—a champion.

Red Bull throws an after party at the hotel bar, like they do at every Grand Prix, but Max chose not to go so he can drown in his own bitterness in the privacy of his hotel room.

A series of knocks on the door disturbs his ongoing rampage. He is sure it is his manager who’s behind the door. Archie possesses a horrible habit of appearing when he is not needed and not appearing when he is.

“What?!”

“Open the door, sour loser.”

That's not Archie.

Max’s jaw tenses. He marches towards the door and aggressively throws it open. It is you who stands behind it, an unimpressed expression printed on your face. Why is Daniel’s manager here?

“Who are you calling a loser?”

You sigh, peering your head in to look at his hotel room. You wince.

“Horner is not gonna be happy with how you trashed everything,” you begin. Max may or may not have thrown things across the room, punched a table and the wall, and accidentally broke a hotel-owned wall decoration. “Did you punch the wall?”

He did. But he’s not going to tell you that. Max hopes you don’t notice the peeling skin on his knuckles—red and angry and bloody.

“Can you leave?” he asks through gritted teeth. He hears you sigh. You do that a lot when you’re around him. Why?

You rummage through your tote bag—cream-colored with peach prints, the same one you wear all year round—and pull out a cold can of beer and a face towel.

“Lemme see.”

You reach for Max’s hand, which causes him to jerk back, his hand going behind him. You pause.

“I told you to leave.”

“Okay,” you shrug. You grab his wrist before he could dodge and you thrust the cold canned beer and face towel into his hand.

“Put this on your knuckles,” your tone leaves no room for further arguments. “Danny’s worried ‘bout you.”

“If he’s so worried about me, he shouldn't be leaving me,” Max snaps.

“Have you tried listening to his reasons?”

“Of course, I did!” Max is offended that you even feel the need to ask him that.

You purse your lips, “Maybe you did listen, just never tried to understand. I’d do the same thing, too, if I was Danny. No need to stay in a place where we’re no longer wanted.”

Max opens his mouth to bark back. How dare you utter such nonsense? You only stayed here for a year! ? You will never understand the relationship between Daniel and Max. You will never know Daniel the same way Max knows him.

“He isn't going to win anywhere else. We are going to get a new engine and the car will be better than this year. We’ll be better than Ferrari or Mercedes. We’ll be champions.”

I’ll be a champion, but Max leaves it unsaid.

“I know, heard it from the mechanics,” you shrug. “Maybe Danny won't win in another machinery. Maybe he will. Who knows? But if the team wanted Danny then that’s better. A team that wants and prioritizes Danny will treat him better than any team could. And right now, that's what he needs, a good team that supports him well.”

“Red Bull prioritizes him, too.”

“You're lyin’ to yourself, you know it. You of all people should know how shitty it feels to be number two and Danny is number two right now.”

Silence.

Number two. Cursed number two.

“Are you gonna follow Daniel, too?”

Max will not be surprised if you do.

You shrug.

“Let's wait and see.”

Then, you turn around and walk away, the soft click of your beige flats echoing in the hotel hallway until it fades into silence, while Max stands there at the open door, a cold canned beer and a face towel in his hand.

He uses the face towel to wipe the blood on his knuckle and uses the cold canned beer to help soothe the pain of forming bruises. Max wishes you brought something to ease the pain in his heart, too.

2019

The 2019 pre-season begins with Christian Horner saying that Archie, Max’s incompetent manager last year, has submitted a resignation letter. That makes Max Verstappen officially manager-less this year.

“For this season, since Daniel is no longer with us—” The corner of Max’s lips curve downwards. “[Name] does not have anyone to manage anymore. I was thinking of moving her to the engineering team but she was too efficient at managing Daniel last year. Would you mind if she becomes your manager? I assume you're both friends?”

Friends is not the appropriate term to describe what they are. Sure, they talked because Daniel talked with Max frequently and wherever Daniel was, [Name] is closely behind. Daniel also has this habit of dragging everyone into the conversation so no one will be left out. They also engaged in banter a few times, when Daniel’s not around and Max and her do not bother tolerating each other for the sake of the Australian racer.

For the most part, when Daniel is present, [Name] become the nicest person to ever grace the room, even Mother Teresa is put to shame, but when Daniel’s gone, [Name]’s saintess act disappears and enters an asshole who'll argue with Max and annoy him to oblivion. She absolutely vexes him.

Also, she's a terrible suck up. Max hates suck ups.

“She’ll be good for you,” Horner adds.

“Do you believe so?”

“I know she can handle you.”

Max raises a single questioning brow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nevertheless, Max has no choice. Horner believes she’ll be good for him and Max prefers having her as a manager than having none at all. God forbid he’ll be stuck manager-less. He can barely organize anything to save his life.

Even though they're not perfectly civil with each other, Max cannot deny the fact that [Name] is a good manager. It is like she possesses the uncanny ability of knowing everything Max needs without having him to voice it out and you do it without Max having to ask you. Which works greatly for Max. He really isn't the best at asking what he needs and people cannot mindread so he just sucks everything up until a simple thing gets blown out of proportion and he ends up blaming someone else for a problem that should have been solved had he voiced it out in the first place.

“PR sent me this,” you walk into the room early in the morning and Max groans because he’s still dealing with the hangover from last night so he cannot deal with your annoyingness right now. Despite hearing his dilemma, you put the iPad on the table and Max sees a picture of him drunk as fuck in a bar somewhere in Barcelona. He winces, looking away and not bothering to read the caption.

“They want you to clear shit up.”

“What's there to be cleared about?”

“People think we're datin’, darlin’. That's what you need to clear up.”

Max’s eyes go comically wide. Him and [Name]....dating? A blush graces Max’s cheeks.

You swipe down and show Max a video. The clip shows you walking out of the bar, warding off people with a passed out Max on your shoulder.

There are two things that immediately entered Max’s head at that moment:

Wow. You're really strong.

What the fuck? When did this happen?

“I’ll get you an Advil and soup. In the meantime,” you open a word document on your iPad. “You read this. Prepared a script ‘cuz you can’t improvise shit. We’ll film a press release vid when I come back, aight?”

You are gone before Max can even nod his head.

[illvmii]

Home For The Weekend.

DBF!Miguel x FEM!Reader, NSFW!! READ WITH CAUTION!!

TAGS: DBF!Miguel, Nsfw, a little fluff ig, pining Miguel, I gave you good parents because you deserve it, oral (fem receiving), praise, p in v, unprotected (use protection gang), a little exhibisionism (people are in the house), Miguel is pretty soft in this one, LMK if I forgot anything

A/N: Because I had to swap accounts and all that, I decided to write smut as a sorry (cause I know that’s what most Miguel fans want LMFAO) so here you go!! It’s Dad’s best friend cause GODDD I love DBF Miguel lemme tell ya. Also not proof read (I’m really fucking tired rn I’ll proof read tmr probably)

You’ve been away from home for a good while at this point. Your college really wasn’t all that far away, but you’ve been so freaking busy it’s unbelievable. You called your parents at least three times a week, even at that point you were failing to do so. You were completely overwhelmed and it was awful.

But finally, finally you had a weekend where you were free. You didn’t have anything to do, so you decided to drive home and spend the weekend there. You knew your parents really missed you, so it was the best choice for all of you (plus you’d been killing to taste some of your moms cooking once again).

You had called your father to let him and your mom know you were coming, but were told a very interesting surprise. It was for sure a welcome one, though. Your father’s best bud, Miguel O’Hara, was staying with your parents for a week. Apparently the man’s house got termites which fucking blew chunks for him. But for you… well, aren’t you just lucky?

That man is HOT! We all know it, he’s absolutely stunning. So when you figured you’d be in the same house as him for a whole weekend, your entire stay seemed to get much more interesting.

Of course it was a ‘Look don’t touch’ scenario, you couldn’t even imagine the hell that would let loose if you made a hit on your dad’s best friend. You knew your father and Miguel were super close, they have been since you were a little girl. Miguel and your pops met when you were in third grade, because you were on your schools little soccer team. Miguel was the coach, since his own daughter Gabriella was on it.

You and Gabi actually became pretty good friends, still are to this day. She’s fun to be around and you text her whenever you have the chance. Of course she doesn’t know about the absolutely disgusting thoughts you have about her father on the lonelier nights. You think nobody but you really needs to know those. God forbid if your dad found out.

You haven’t seen Miguel in… what was it? Nearly three years at this point. He didn’t come around the house much after you turned 19 for some reason. Your dad and him always hung out at bars and such. So you haven’t seen him in a long time. The barbecues Miguel always had once a month were strangely on days you had told your dad you weren’t available, either. It’s very strange. You never have had the best of luck with men, so you just assume god is playing a cruel trick on you.

You eventually pulled into your childhood home driveway, the second you entered your mom pulls you to the side and presses kisses all over your face.

“Oh my gosh! It feels I haven’t seen my baby girl in ages! How have you been, honey?!”

Pressing a kiss to her cheek, you smile, “Been good. Busy, as I’ve said on our calls. But finally got some free time!”

Your mother grinned and pulled you into a hug, “I’m so glad your home, sweetheart. The house just isn’t the same without you here.”

“Dad already getting on your nerves, huh?” You snicker, hugging her back tightly.

Your mom chuckles and shakes her head, “He’s still the same ol’ grump. You should have heard him and Miguel when the soccer game was on… my goodness I was worried we were going to get a noise complaint.”

“Are they really that bad? Geez. I know Dad is bad, can’t imagine two of them.”

Your mother chuckles, “Your father is in the living room. Go say hi, hes been waiting for you all day.”

You give her a nod and walk off to the living room to greet your dad. He’s on the couch, so you plop down next to him. “Hey, Dad. How’s it hanging?”

He turns to look at you and bumps your shoulder with his, “There you are, squirt. Where you been for so long, huh? Outgrown us regular people now you’re a big shot at college?”

You smirk at his tease, “Don’t worry. I won’t forget about you. Least not yet.”

He flicks your forehead, chuckling to himself.

“Miguel is out in the pool. You should go say hi.”

Your face immediately heats up. He’s in the god damn pool?! With probably little shorts? Oh god…

You nod and stand from the couch and make your way to the pool. You slide the glass door to the patio open and dear god.

You see Miguel, hes swimming laps in the big pool. As long as you’ve known him, he’s worked out a bunch. No wonder he’s so fucking buff.

Stepping down into the patio area, you send him a wave, “Hey, Mr. O’Hara?”

He pauses his swimming and looks up at you. He flashes a smile, “My god, that you, pequeña?”

Miguel shakes his head to get the excess water out, swimming too the stairs of the pool to get out. You see now that yes, he is in little swim trunks.

He grabs his towel to wipe his extremely chiseled chest down. He smiles at you as he does, “How have you been, chica? I haven’t seen you for a while. Your dad sends me photos of you sometimes, but they really didn’t show off how much you’ve grown.”

You blush as he runs his eyes over you to really take in your growth. “I’ve been okay. College is keeping me busy. How about you? I’ve heard your house has termites.”

Miguel let’s out a loud groan, “Mhm. I could hear them in the walls at night, it was hell. At least they’re getting taken care of now, ‘Eh?”

“Yeah. I could imagine that would be hell,” You add on, not helping the conversation at all. You really couldn’t focus on conversing well. The man who has plagued your mind since you hit puberty is standing right in front of you, wet and in tiny shorts.

Miguel fully dries himself off, “I’ll go in and change, alright? Then we can talk some more.”

He walks off and you follow behind. You sit next to your dad in the living room and patiently (not at all patiently) wait for ‘Mr. O’Hara’.

Miguel walks into the living room wearing some loose shorts and a white t-shirt. He sits on a free chair and looks to your dad, “Man, look how big your girl is now! Can’t even believe it. Can’t believe how big my Gabi is, either.”

Your dad chuckles and groans, “I know, right? Time really flies when you get old.”

Miguel shoots you a smile, “I’m not that old, am I, cariño?”

You shake your head quickly, “Of course not.”

Your father chuckles, “You don’t gotta lie to Miguel, honey! Let him have it.”

Miguel leans forward to smack your father’s shoulder, “Ay! You aren’t young yourself.”

Your father and Miguel banter back and forth for a bit, before the soccer game starts out. They shut up immediately to watch, though once the plays start happening they shout at the TV like mad men. You chuckle whenever they do. It brought back memories of you and Gabriella having a play date and hearing them go nuts over the match in the other room.

After the match, it was dinner time, and holy fuck did it smell good. Your mother knew how to cook man, let me tell you.

You were sat in between your mom and Miguel. Your dad and the hunk were talking about the game, while your mother asked you questions about how college was going. You told her all about it, from the gossip to how the vending machine in the lobby stopped working again, which pissed you off to no end.

While you were talking and ranting about “those damn machines”, you felt a thigh press against yours. You glance down, seeing it was Miguel’s. Strange, because you didn’t remember his chair being this close. You shrug it off and keep talking to your mom.

After dinner you were stuffed, so you head up to your bedroom for the night. You were currently sitting on your old bed, snuggled up all nice and cozy while watching some YouTube. That was until the door creaked open. You figured your mom had done your laundry like the lovely lady she is, but indeed it was Miguel.

He stepped into the room with a soft smile, closing the door behind him, “Hey, pequeña.”

You sit up immediately at the sight of him, plucking your earbuds from your ears, “Hey, Mr. O’Hara. What do you need?”

Miguel sits himself on the edge of the bed, “You can just call me Miguel, sweetheart. Mr. O’Hara makes me feel ancient.”

“Alright, Miguel.” You smile, which makes him chuckle. He looks up at you and speaks;

“We haven’t had much time to speak one on one. I just wanted to catch up with you, hadn’t seen you in a while.”

You tilt your head endearingly, “Yeah, it has been a while. College has kept me from coming home, plus you and dad don’t hang out around the house as much as you used to.”

Miguel’s face actually pinks a little at the statement, to your bewilderment. He scratches his head, “Yeah. Just gettin’ out on the town as you kids say makes us feel young, I guess.”

Cuddling your blankets a bit closer to you, you grin at him, “You really aren’t that old. You had Gabriella decently young, right?”

“I guess so,” He shrugs, “It feels like forever ago, yet also yesterday. Can’t believe my flor pequeña is in college now.”

You nod, “Oh yeah, I can’t believe we’re in college either. Gabriella texts me all about her college days. She rants about her boyfriend constantly, she seems to really like him.”

Miguel groans, “Don’t even get me started on that boy. He is not worth my daughter, not even a little.”

You giggle at his protective nature. You’re positive that no matter who Gabriella dates, Miguel will never deem them as good enough for his daughter.

Miguel looks into your eyes, “So, you got a boyfriend, niña?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t really met the right person,” Which was a total lie, by the way. You’ve gone on dates and met super nice guys, but in your head you constantly compared them to your first crush ever, Miguel. They never shaped up, so it never went anywhere.

His eyes widen, “Really? You’re so beautiful now, I’d figure you’d have tons of boys chasing you.”

The statement makes you blush fiercely, “Ah, no.”

Miguel lets out a thoughtful sigh, “You really have grown into a lovely young woman, you know.”

You blush even harder, “Thank you, Mr. O’Hara.”

He places a hand on yours with a chuckle, “I told you, it’s Miguel.”

“Right. Sorry. Sorry,” You take some deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. Miguel sees this and smiles.

“Why so flustered, cariño? Is it because I called you beautiful?”

You end up covering your face to hide said blush from him. Geez, your heart could not take this right now. You were dressed in some baggy Spider-Man pajamas, yet he is calling you beautiful?

“I-I’m not…”

You can’t believe you’re stuttering. The things this man does to you is insane.

Miguel reached a hand forward to take your hands away from your face. He doesn’t remove it, though. He rests it on your cheek.

“Do you want to know why I stopped coming around your house?”

You nod, staring into his chocolate brown eyes.

“It’s because of your 19th birthday. Do you remember it?”

You think back to those years ago. It was a pretty fun party. You got a bunch of friends and family over and swam in your pool. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but just a fun time.

“Yeah. What about it? Did I do something?”

He chuckles and tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, “Nah. It’s just me. You… that day, do you remember what your swimsuit looked like?”

You think back again and blush. Not one of your smartest moments, buying a white swimsuit. It looked cute online, the thought of that it was supposed to go in water and get wet not really cementing itself in your head.

“Yeah…”

He nods and chuckles, “I saw you step out of the pool, and rushed over with a towel to cover you up. Remember? Sure, it was because I didn’t want you to expose yourself like that. However, I had a selfish reason.”

You look up and tilt your head a little.

“I didn’t want anyone else to see that part of you.”

“Huh?” Your brows furrow.

He smirks, “I was confused by the thought, too. I left right after the party and went to my house. I figured I’d stop having such strange thoughts after a day… but amor, I haven’t stopped thinking about you once.”

Your eyes widen, “Wh- Huh?”

“You’re so beautiful, I don’t think you understand. You grew into this woman who I admire, not just for your looks. You’re wonderful, absolutely wonderful. You’re kind, you’re thoughtful, you’re funny, you’re perfect. I can’t get you out of my damn head.”

You can’t manage to speak at this point. You stare up at the man in shock as he moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck.

“Please, let me kiss you, niña,” He basically begs, his eyes look full of desperation, “I’ve wanted to do it for years.”

You manage a tiny nod, so he rushes forward to kiss your lips. He holds you very close against him and kisses you hard. He lets out a groan at the contact. His tongue prods at your lips after a while and who are you to refuse such a man? You let him in, letting out a little groan of your own when he explores you.

After what felt like too short, you have to pull away to catch your breath. He doesn’t stop being on you, though. When you pant, he moves to kiss your jaw and neck.

You let out a little groan, “M-Miguel…”

“No good?” He speaks between kisses, “I’ve wanted to touch you for years, you don’t understand…”

You let out a little whimper, a god damn whimper.

“Please, let me touch you. Fuck, please,” He begs again. You manage a small nod once again. He dives back in to keep kissing your neck.

You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. His hands move downwards towards your shirt. He tugs it over your head and moans. His hands immediately reach down to squeeze your tits, and you have to cover your mouth to keep your moans in.

He mumbles out a soft “Fuck…” when he uses his thumbs to glide over your nipples. After a few seconds, he leans down to press kisses all over your soft breasts. He still uses his hands to softly prod at them.

You let out a low whine and he looks up at you, “Be quiet, my girl. Can’t have anyone hearing you.”

You nod and keep covering your mouth as he leans down to keep pressing soft kisses to your chest. After a few moments, he tugs at your bottoms and looks up at you. You nod embarrassingly, and he takes them and your underpants off in one fell swoop.

You hear him audibly choke a breath, which makes you blush more. He manhandles you so your thighs rest on his shoulders, and just goes to town.

You let out a loud yelp when his tongue presses against your clit, so he reaches down and puts his fingers in your mouth to silence you. He keeps his mouth going, sucking on the bud to bring you pleasure.

Miguel pulls back with a long breath, “Tastes so good…”

You whimper against his fingers when he leans down to insert his tongue in you. You cry out as he holds nothing back, forcefully having his way with you.

His one hand that isn’t in your mouth is softly caressing your thigh, which is driving you crazy in its own right. It feels like everywhere he touches you is pure heaven.

Though that one hand leaves after a moment, instead he moves to insert a finger in you. You clamp down on his fingers, which makes him chuckle.

“Feel that good?”

Against his hand, you mumble, “Fingers so thick…”

He smirks and curls his index finger, making your hips buck up and you let out another whine. He can softly hear you beg for more.

He complies, of course. Hes waited for this for years, no way he won’t give his girl everything she wants.

He inserts another finger, moving them around a little until he eventually finds your most sensitive spot. He presses the pad of his fingers up against it suddenly, making you jerk and squirm around.

His mouth dives back down to suck on your clit, which drives you absolutely insane. His fingers in both your mouth and inside you, as well as his skilled mouth was far too much for one woman to handle.

Miguel looks over at one of the thighs placed on his shoulder, seeing it shiver and shake. He breaks away briefly, “Are you close already, amor? You’re so sensitive for me. Have you been wanting my touch too?”

You nod frantically when he lowers his head to your clit again. You cry out, “Uh-Huh! Y-You were my first crush!” Your words were mumbled against his fingers, but he understood them just fine.

He sucks on your clit hard and curls his fingers at the same time, which causes you to let out a moan and your thighs shake more. He breaks away,

“Look at me when you come. Look into my eyes as I make you come. You understand?”

You nod and keep eye contact with him as he inserts a third finger, pressing over and over to your g-spot. He uses his tongue to swirl around your inflated bud at the same time.

His gaze, his mouth, his fingers, it was all far too much. After one harsh suck, you came with a muffled shout.

Miguel drank it all up immediately, seemingly absolutely satisfied to be covered in your juices.

He lets you catch your breath and removes his fingers from your mouth. He also lowers your hips back to the bed, being delicate as he does so he doesn’t hurt you. You were panting very harshly, still coming down from your high.

Everything was a bit fuzzy at the moment. Though you refocused a few seconds later- holy shit.

His shorts have been discarded, along with his shirt. He was naked just as you were, and god damn was he big.

He leans down to press a kiss to your stomach, “You think you can go again? Can you take me, pretty girl?”

You try and speak only to realize that you, in fact, can’t. You settle for a thumbs up, which just makes him laugh softly.

He gives you a few more seconds before aligning himself up with your pretty pussy, pushing himself in agonizingly slow.

You let out another moan, so he quickly puts his fingers in your mouth again to keep you quiet. He really, really did not need your parents who were down in the living room to hear this.

He kept pushing himself in, holding his own groans back. He’d used his hand and imagined how you’d feel in the past, but it was nothing like this. This was perfect.

Once he was in as far as he could go, he stopped and let you get comfortable. Of course it was a battle for him, he was fighting his primal instincts to just take your hard and fast.

You keep letting out the most adorable little whimpers, which even though he’s currently fucking you, make Miguel’s heart melt.

You hum against his fingers, “Ready…”

He nods and begins to move very slowly. He focuses on your face as he watches it contort and squeeze with his movements. You were so pretty when you were experiencing such pleasure, he thought.

He whispers, “Good job, pequeña. Such a good girl for me.”

The praise makes you bite down on his fingers a little. Your hands travel upwards to scratch on his back, too. It was taking all your willpower to not be loud.

He moves a little faster, leaning down to kiss you as he does. He keeps mumbling “My pretty girl” And “So perfect, just for me” as he increases his speed.

He knows he isn’t going to last long. He’s been dreaming about you for years at this point.

He begins to sweat as his hips snap against yours. His free hand moves down to rub on your already abused clit. You grunt on his fingers, pursing your lips against them.

“You gonna come for me again, amor? Come on my cock. Can you do that for me?” He speaks very softly. Both to keep it down, but to also be intimate with you.

You breathe heavily as you feel him pound into you. You can feel tears brimming at your eyes from the sensation.

He licks his thumb and places it back down on your clit, rubbing circles over and over again. At the same time, his hips were slamming against yours. Soon enough, you reached a second orgasm. He let out a moan that was nearly too loud when you did. The sensation was his end, because a few thrusts later he pulled out and came on your stomach.

You and him sat there, panting like you’d just ran a damn marathon. Though after a few minutes, Miguel stands and walks over to your nightstand to get the wipes there. He begins to wipe you of his cum and your sweat, cleaning you off so you can sleep comfortably.

You were so fucking exhausted it was insane. You could barely register as he carefully slid your pajamas back onto you, then changed back into his own clothes.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, “If I could sleep in here, I would.”

“Mhm…” You mumble, a little upset he wouldn’t be cuddling you to sleep. But you obviously understood his reasoning.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips,

“Let’s do this again sometime, pequeña.”

Hope you enjoyed you rabid Miguel fans!! Feedback is always welcome. I used spanishdict so please correct any mistakes you see. Reqs open too!!

This was my first time posting anything NSFW on any site ever so I’m sorry if it’s bad LOL

Don’t repost or claim as or own and all that stuff please!! ❤️❤️

[kaeyeahsworld]

A real pussy pleaser. Part 2

Synopsis:

“What the fuck Toji?”

“Who said you could cum tonight doll?” Toji replied, his gaze intoxicating in the mirror

Tags: toji fushiguro x female reader, smut, dirty talk, masturbation, body worship, mirror sex, suit kink, orgasm edging and denial, toji has a big dick lol, pet names (mama, baby, doll)

Read part 1 for context lol

18+

Cross posted on Ao3

MDNI and do not interact if uncomfortable

———————————-💟————————————

You should have waited. Temptation was the devil's sweetest form and now here you were in Toji’s lap, wet little cunt on the display in the mirror and being feasted on by his heated gaze, pupils utterly blown out  “Toji..please I will do anything, just let me cum, baby..-”  “Nah mama, I want to play with you tonight” he said revelling in your hot scent, a mixture of perfume and sex. 

Gently nipping along the side of your neck, Toji fell in love with you all over again. You were his reason, his purpose and his sun and moon. Even the week he was away, if he wasn't focused on his work, you were all he could think about. Your sweet little texts always checking upon him, cute selfies that you would randomly send while grocery shopping and your corny little pickup lines and banters that had him smiling at his phone even mid-meetings. You were just as a adorable as bunny and you liked fucking like one too. 

Slowly unbuttoning his white shirt and loosening his tie, Toji took in your needy expression and heavy breaths and quickly turned you around, your beautiful tits in his face and cunt on his muscular thigh, straddling him. 

“Do you wanna be a darling for me girl?” Toji enquired, a playful smirk donning his handsome features, highlighting his scar “Yes Toji, anything-” “Then ride my thigh, show me how much you missed me, how much you are aching for me at this moment. But you will not let yourself come alright?”  “That's so unfair-ahhhhh-” Even before you could finish Toji grabbed your hips and ground you to his thighs, your perky luscious tits in his warm mouth, being sucked and teased upon. 

  Having no control of yourself and grinding your hips on his thigh like a whore in heat, you couldn't be more embarrassed and turned on by yourself at the same time. A confident ferocious lady in the usual and here you were putty in Toji’s arms and you knew it in your soul that he was the only man capable of doing this. Angling yourself and now rubbing your clit over his thigh, wetness just drooling from your hole and dripping over his pants, you were so close.

Just the right pleasure, just the right amount of friction and just the right amount of pain with Toji leaving coloured love marks all over your chest and neck.

But Toji knew your body like the back of his hand, your telltale signs when you are about to cum, erratic breathing, lower moans, and sloppy movements, he lifted you off of his thigh at just the right moment and kissed you hard enough, tongue all over, wet and exploring. “Hm—tojiiii–lemme..jus-..cum” you begged through the kiss “So fucking desperate. God baby you are gonna be the death of me” It suddenly struck Toji, what you need the most at this moment 

“Gimme a second” he said and went to the nearest drawer beside your bed and grabbed the skin-color bullet vibrator.

Toji’s dick was big but not his ego when it came to your pleasure. He was all in for anything that had you trembling and crying out. It was gonna be his name anyway at the end of the day. 

“Toji- I don't know about that- I am too sensitive right now”  “That's exactly why mama. A few more rounds of edging and when you start moaning my name like a prayer, that's when I will let you unfold like the prettiest flower you are”  His saccharine words, a stark contrast to his sadistic actions, had your mind and pussy reeling.   As he turned on the vibrator to its highest setting and latched it onto your already throbbing clit, your moans now were guttural. “I-can’t tojiiii—uhmmph!!-” “Yes you can my girl, hold it in and be a good one”

The sight in front of Toji almost had Toji come in his pants. You being a glorious hot mess, lips bruised, marks claiming you as his and rutting into the vibrator so desperate and utterly in your raunchy world.  Once again, right before you could cum Toji turned the damned thing off

-- 4th time was Toji’s limit, his cock bursting through his pants and your eyes so glossy and cheeks tear-stained. He surprised himself with how long he could go without stuffing himself in your warm cunt but it was gonna be worth the pleasure (or torture) he had put you through.  His precious woman was willing to be edged as long as he wanted to. “Thank you so much baby, you were such a darling yeah? So pretty and good for me.” 

Little did Toji know that all his words were just being directed straight to your aching cunt that had you sobbing into Toji’s broad shoulder.  “Wanna–cum..toji.. Stop being mean..ahh- ple-” “I know love, gonna make you see stars, you trust me right?” 

And he did. With the vibrator ruining your insides and Toji’s hand skillfully massaging your clit, it was game over. As much as he wanted to be gentle, he was enormous and his power even more. Clutching onto him for dear life, the sensations and the filthy wetness of your squelching pussy, you were a babbling lovely mess 

“Ahh- uhhh- toji, wait not so fast, too sensitive–hmmph!” and before you could register what was happening, the taut tension in your tummy had uncoiled, squirting and spraying all over Toji’s suit and hand and making you see white. “Good fucking girl, ruining my suit huh love fuckkk” Toji was smiling ear to ear, genuinely proud of how much you had held on, your release just as much of a relief for him, his heart pounding and your mind drowning in pleasure.

Coming down from your high, Toji was now peppering kisses all over your face, from your eyes to your cute nose and showering you with praises, making you oblivious to the fact that in the next round, it would be his cock up your tight pussy, giving you a show of the universe this time. 

———————————-💟————————————

Notes:

"he would not fucking say that" *continues writing anyway*

i realized i need to get more elaborate when writing smut and i am trying to work on that. college has been hectic and I'm posting this on my day off lol (will try to edit it when i can) lemme know how you like it take care sweets

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Whatever the future may hold

Written for the May pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: Graduation

Rated: M

Tags: Omegaverse; omega!Eddie; alpha!Steve; pregnancy; mentions of sex

Notes: Set in the same universe as Whatever you want it to be

Eddie turns the square cap in his hands, feeling utterly and supremely sorry for himself. He's been imagining this day for so long. Snatching that diploma from Higgins's unwilling hands and prancing off that stage into a brighter, better future.

Only now, that future fills him with nothing but dread.

He groans, burying his face in his arms.

It was all going so well.

A while ago, when Carver and his possee found out about his little omegan secret, he thought his life was over.

Except Steve Harrington swooped in like a white, baseball bat wielding knight and saved him, and took him home, and cared for him. Knotted him near damn stupid, too, not that Eddie is complaining.

They've since commenced what must be the weirdest courtship in the history of courtship - stolen glances and subtle gifts and furtive dates at Steve's house or Eddie’s trailer. Eddie has kept his secret safe, and Steve is its biggest protector.

It's perfect. Everything Eddie never knew he wanted.

So of course it couldn't last.

“Eddie?”

Shit!

He must've been so far gone in his head he didn't hear the trailer door open, didn't catch the scent wafting into his bedroom. Pine needles and moss and sunlight.

“Stevie,” he croaks, and his stomach twists.

Footsteps approach. The doorknob rattles once, twice, before Steve realizes it's locked. His scent turns worried. Steve's worried about him. Eddie’s needy hindbrain whines at the thought.

“Eds, lemme in. Please?”

Eddie is unlocking the door before he even realizes he’s moved. Quickly, dread clawing at his guts, he retreats back onto his bed.

“Hey,” Steve ducks around the gown dangling from its hanger by the door. “Wayne called, said you wouldn’t come out of your room? Ceremony’s about to start, what are you- Eddie? What’s wrong?”

Because he has just spotted Eddie, back against the wall, arms wrapped around hunched knees, trembling hand still clasping the cap. Steve is in front of him in an instant, mattress dipping under his weight. His hands cup Eddie’s face, tilting his head up, and Eddie knows he should pull away, he really should. Still, he’s helpless to do anything but let himself sink into Steve’s comforting touch and scent.

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice is a barely restrained growl. “Carver try shit again? You know you don’t have to worry-”

Eddie shakes his head. His stomach feels like it’s trying to crawl its way out of his throat. “It’s not Carver.”

Steve’s brow furrows.

“But then, what- … Are you sick?” He leans in, nosing the hollow of Eddie’s neck. “Your scent’s a bit off. Should I call a doctor, or-”

“Will you fucking leave it?” Eddie slaps Steve's hands away. The cap hits the mattress with a soft thud. “I'm not sick! Jesus!”

Steve's eyes are full of hurt confusion and worry. It makes Eddie want to laugh and cry and scream all at once.

“But I don't-” Steve stammers. “Why won't you-”

“Because I'm pregnant, okay?”

Steve's words screech to a halt. His eyes grow large, mouth forming a dumb little oh shape. It would be funny, Eddie thinks hysterically, if there was anything remotely funny about this entire clusterfuck of a situation.

“Wha-” Steve starts to say. Shuts his mouth. Opens it again. “I mean how- … I mean … are you sure?”

Like a line from some cliché soap opera. Eddie laughs weakly.

“Been puking my guts out all week. Took five tests, all positive. I'm pretty fucking sure, big boy.”

Silence seeps into the room. For a moment, Eddie thinks Steve's going to continue right on with the soap opera shit and ask when it happened. If it’s his. But Steve knows Eddie has never been with anyone else. Knows they've always been careful - except for that very first time.

Eddie screws his eyes shut and waits.

“Wow,” Steve breathes after an eternity. “That’s … that’s unbelievable.”

Eddie furrows his brow. Steve’s voice is brimming with incredulity, but also with something else. Something that, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d put close to … happiness? Hesitantly, he peeps one eye open.

He’s just in time to see Steve launch himself at him, and then he’s enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. Steve’s scent crests over him, heady and familiar.

“W-wait,” Eddie manages to mumble against the rapid staccato of Steve’s heartbeat. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Steve pulls back just enough to look at him. His smile is so wide, Eddie’s afraid his face might be too small for it. “Why would I be mad? You know I want kids, loads of them!”

“Well yeah,” Eddie stammers. The room is spinning and all he can see is Steve’s smile. “But-”

“And you know I can’t imagine a better person to have them with than you.”

“Well …” Eddie can practically feel himself flush. “I guess.”

Steve leans in to kiss his forehead. “Then why are you so upset, dumbass?”

“Well, I dunno,” Eddie blurts, unable to keep the sarcastic undertone at bay. “Maybe cause I’m barely out of school? Or because we’re not even mated? Because your parents will go absolutely fucking-”

“Fuck my parents,” Steve declares. “This is about you and me. We’ll figure it out one step at a time. First, and most importantly: Do you want to have this kid with me?”

One large hand finds Eddie’s stomach, splaying itself over it, warm and safe. Eddie feels how something inside of him goes soft.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Yes, I’d love that.”

“Brilliant,” Steve beams, and kisses him. Eddie melts into it, but just as he’s about to lose himself in that summer forest scent, Steve pulls away. Eddie frowns as something is placed on his head - the stupid cap.

“And second,” Steve winks, giving his stomach one last gentle pat, “You gotta put on that gown and let me drive you to school. The two of you need to walk in half an hour.”

Poor Steve brought beer for the celebration. He'll need to drink it all by himself, whelp.

They're baaack, and they're having a baby!!! I said I'd write more of these two sooner rather than later, didn't I?

[cartierre]

ICED OAT LATTE | ma11

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU marcus armstrong x fem!novalak!reader (fc: sabrina carpenter)

side note: this is a bit on the shorter side but otherwise it felt like just dragging it out for nothing. there are two twitter threads though so i think that kind of makes up for it?

♡ liked by clementnovalak, marcusarmstrong, screamingmeals and 17,347 others

tagged: screamingmeals

y/n_novalak my segment on screamingmeals "y/n's coffee corner" launches this week! try out different kinds of coffee with me, send me suggestions how you like to drink yours and let's have a little chat together! we're going to start off strong with my all time favourite: an iced oat latte 🧊☕️

view all 82 comments

user1 watch y/n become the next emma chamberlain

user2 i don't like coffee but maybe y/n can come up with a way for me to somewhat enjoy it ⤷ user3 y/n should definitely do an episode on how to get into coffee as a beginner!

screamingmeals we never knew coffee could be so expensive ⤷ y/n_novalak i won't settle for cheap coffee beans

clementnovalak first you stole my best friend and now you get your own corner? ⤷ y/n_novalak go cry me a riverrrrrr ⤷ user4 y/n and clem being siblings, part 1933829

user5 i love an oat latte, but warm instead of cold!

♡ liked by clementnovalak, felipedrugovich, marcusarmstrong and 16,283 others

tagged: marcusarmstrong

y/n_novalak i'm the proudest girlfriend on the planet right now. to see marcus race here in st. petersburg makes my heart bloom. happy indycar debut babes! (psa: giving the coffee a 6/10 because it was overpriced)

view all 72 comments

user6 ugh i cannot they're literally perfect for each other ⤷ user7 i'm so glad clem introduced them to each other

clementnovalak for the record: i am still a bit salty you didn't come to my race this weekend ⤷ y/n_novalak should i hold your hand the next time since you're such a crybaby? ⤷ clementnovalak i'm telling maman that you're mean to me

user8 i never know if y/n and clem are being serious or not with their banter ⤷ user9 i have a brother and lemme tell you we're the same

marcusarmstrong with you by my side, i feel like i can achieve anything comment liked by y/n_novalak ⤷ y/n_novalak stop it i'm getting emotional

user10 *crying in single*

♡ liked by clementnovalak, marcusarmstrong, screamingmeals and 18,293 others

tagged: screamingmeals

y/n_novalak we're going into round two! this time on "y/n's coffee corner" we're going full traditional: we're taste testing the cappucino. a classic. the cappucino shines with a foamy top and lots of aroma. you can never go wrong with it. (spoiler alert: it's not marcus' favourite 😱)

view all 67 comments

user11 y/n needs to start a whole blog about coffee

user12 marcus doesn't like a cappucino? 🚩🚩 ⤷ y/n_novalak that's what i was thinking ⤷ marcusarmstrong i'm sorry

clementnovalak the way you only put a heart on yours and marcus' coffee and i got a blop of nothingness is actually hurting my soul ⤷ y/n_novalak you're always mean to me you don't deserve a heart

user13 i have the same coffee machine! comment liked by y/n_novalak

user14 i'm more of a latte person myself, but you can never really go wrong with a cappucino!

user15 back when i wasn't allowed to drink coffee, my mum always gave me her foam on her capuccino because i was so sad that i couldn't get one myself

♡ liked by clementnovalak, marcusarmstrong and 15,948 others

tagged: clementnovalak, marcusarmstrong

y/n_novalak visiting this dickhead this weekend in jeddah because he cried about me not attending his last race

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user16 imagine being stressed because you cannot decide whether to visit your brother or boyfriend at different places for races ⤷ user17 she's living every motorsport fan's dream

user18 the lipstick stain is so real. men will never understand.

clementnovalak you made it sound like i begged you to come ⤷ y/n_novalak did you not? your messages say smth else ⤷ marcusarmstrong actually he cried because i wasn't able to come ⤷ clementnovalak that is correct ⤷ y/n_novalak okay since when is it "gang up on y/n" day?

user19 marcus using his free weekend to support clem is so sweet!

user20 i just know y/n was exhausted after a whole weekend with clem and marcus comment liked by y/n_novalak

[fluffytriceratops]

I am DESPERATE for some 2k3 Donatello dating headcanons, literally give me anything PLEASE I AM OBSESSED

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 [𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑]

notes: i gotchu bestie. <3 lemme know if you guys want these for the other 2k3 turts as well! :D also sorry for taking literal ages to get this request done for you! thank you sm for requesting i hope you have a wonderful day/night! <3

warnings: brief nsfw mentions, mature language, 

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @leosgirl82 @rheawritesforfun @s-s-ironnie @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @drowninghell @lec743 @raphielover  @raphslovemuffin80 @squirrelfurs @bibiz82 @pheradream-15 @kikithedreamerwriter @m1dnyt3-w0lf @scholastic-dragon @moonsua1 [if i've forgotten anyone i'm so sorry please comment or dm me and let me know and i'll add you right away so i don't forget in the future!]

(if you would like to be tagged in my future tmnt x reader related work, feel free to let me know and i'll happily add you!)

i love you all sm! i'm sending all the virtual hugs and well wishes to you!! <33

---

- as usual, 2003 donnie has an obsession with coffee. so if you get this mans some coffee expect an INSTANT marriage proposal. [honestly what ver of donnie doesn't have a coffee addiction?] 

- likes to do your hair. it's calming to him and helps him think. hes watched a lot of youtube videos and stuff for it, so he knows what he's doing too. he likes to try new styles n stuff on you. everyone knows when he's particularily stressed or can't seem to figure something out because you seem to have a new hairsyle everyday until he's fixed whatever it is that's bugging him, 

- will also handmake beads and stuff to put in your hair. <3 

- makes jewelry for you, esp out of silverware and other things. it always turns out so beautifully. 

- late night drives. donnie has insomnia and his brain works a lot during the night/evening. so expect to hang out a lot with him during this time. driving at night at new york is super pretty and peaceful too. esp when it's just the two of you. [so long as you don't mind the hectic city hehe-]

- cuddling with him while he works. includes sleeping on him/in his lab when he works really late into the night. he'll later carry you to bed. 

- painting on his shell/body for funzies. and if he does the same to you don't expect it to look too great because 2k3 donnie can't draw for shit. 

- donnie will gift you homemade cards with stick figures on the cover cuz again he cant draw but he knows you'll adore it no matter what just because he made it. plus you think its funny as hell and he adores your laugh. 

- hes actually really good at photography. and he has loads of pictures of you. you two go out and take pictures together sometimes. it's always a lot of fun. and they always turn out great. 

- late night talking sessions are a normal for you. 

- donatello tries his best to get you to sleep at a decent time, but sometimes you'll refuse if he isn't coming to bed with you just to get him to go to sleep earlier. he'll probably lay with you for a while, unable to actually sleep. maybe he'll read or listen to music to help pass the time. sometimes he will also sneak back out of bed once you've fallen asleep, and when you catch him you give him a good talking to. 

- he really needs to take better care of himself. he's always putting those he cares for above himself. so you're always there to make sure he's okay and that he's doing what he needs to do to be happy and healthy. 

- you guys hardly ever fight. donnie isn't one to argue with you. he's a very gentle and kind soul. he rarely raises his voice. (but when he does you find it hot as FUCK- lets be honest--) 

- fix it felix. always fixes things for you, even if you dont ask it of him. if he's at your place and notices something needs to be fixed he'll just do it for you. even if you insist he doesn't have to, he will anyway because he loves you. it brings him joy. and honestly, you should just let him because it probably stresses him out a little thinking about how your door isn't closing properly or your car sounds funny or your light keeps flickering- 

- you like to prank him on occassion, this includes the whole "i filled my tank with the special gas-" or "i let them put premium air in my tires and they gave me a really good deal". it freaks and stresses him out, at least in the moment hehe. its very funny but keep in mind he'll get you back. 

- him reading to you sfghfdgkjhdfg (id die please-) esp if you have trouble sleeping or something. 

- coffee dates are a must. even if you dont drink coffee. 

- donnie napping curled up on your chest/on top of you. you tracing the grooves of his shell. you've learned he finds this very comforting and it helps him fall asleep. 

- hes a definite switch- lmao.

- very gentle and understanding. he's like your personal diary or therapist and you're the same for him. 

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Twelve

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven

A/N: ...................I was not expecting this chapter to turn out the way it did.................Hope you guys enjoy! And if you wanna be added to the tag list just lemme know! Oh and do tell me your favorite scene so far!

The walk back had been quiet. Neither teenager felt the need to say anything.

But then there was nothing to say now was there?

She had been attacked by someone who could've hurt Iroh and Zuko, and yet Orora had not said a single word. Despite her own fear, her priority had been to protect the both of them. Besides the fear hadn't been for her. The fear had been the result of her mind conjuring up the various dark outcomes that would come to play should the identity of the two Royals be discovered.

He had pushed her out of the way of an attack, taking the blow meant for her. Granted Orora could've handled herself, but with how scared she had been, and the way he had seen her trembling despite her effort not to, Zuko hadn't wanted to leave it up to chance. His main thought was that he didn't want her getting hurt.

Least of all while protecting him.

Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he was a little surprised to see her walking with her head slightly bent. What was she thinking, he wandered, eyes dropping briefly to the string linking them together. It hung slightly loose, though was rather short, given how their hands were only a foot or so apart.

He looked away. And not a moment later, Orora turned her head slightly to glance at him. The streets were nearly empty, given that it was late in the evening, and yet she found herself walking right next to him. A rather common, yet unconscious, occurrence since they had arrived in Ba Sing Se.

Reaching their building of residence, Orora motioned for him to go ahead. "I need to fill my satchel with fresh water." She gestured to the community well that everyone used.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "And leave you to be attacked by another crazy guy?" Though his gaze was serious, Orora could almost detect a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Playful sarcasm, she hoped.

Her eyes flashed with something akin to annoyance and.........gratitude? Was that it? Jet hadn't sneaked in a kick to his head had he?

While Zuko recalled if what he had seen was real or just the light coming from a nearby open window, Orora quickly bended fresh water into her satchel. Closing the cork she waved her arms, allowing more water to bend up from the well, enough so that she could splash her face with it.

Sighing at the feeling of the cool liquid, her body instantly relaxed. Having water touch her skin had always had a calming effect on her, and she needed to regain her composure after the plethora of emotions she had felt within a span of an hour. Tilting her head to allow the little rivulets of water to run down her face and neck, her eyes focused on the moon above. Inhaling deeply, the young girl smiled, arms hanging loosely at her side as she allowed herself to simply bask in the presence of it.

The sound of water splashing had him glancing in Orora's direction from where he had been looking around, keeping watch. His usual mask of seriousness slipped away as he watched her standing there. Her eyes were focused on the moon, so there was no chance of her catching him looking.

So he continued to gaze upon her.

After a couple of minutes, she walked back to where Zuko was standing. She didn't bother wiping her face, or even bending the water droplets from her skin as she passed him and walked up the stairs.

It was after a few steps when she realized Zuko wasn't following her. Glancing over her shoulder, a hand on the railing to keep her balance, she blinked at the Fire Nation Prince who was staring right at her.

"Aren't you coming?" She asked.

The words seemed to startle him out of whatever daydream he was in. He met her gaze, before abruptly looking away and bolting up the stairs, nearly pushing past her as he did.

Orora frowned in confusion, completely missing the obvious redness that adorned his cheeks given the embarrassment he felt at being caught staring at her so openly.

Then again, he couldn't help himself, his treacherous mind reasoned, she had looked so peaceful and calm in that moment.

Almost serenely pretty.

Shaking his head, pushing his hair back from his forehead, he stepped into their home. It was dark, a problem he remedied by lighting a couple of candles.

With his fire-bending.

An act that prompted Orora to reach out and grasp his wrist from where he had been aiming at another candle.

"What're you doing? You were nearly discovered tonight. Do you want to get caught?" She hissed right in his ear. Zuko only scowled at her. "I wouldn't be careless with my bending Orora. And I checked outside to make sure we weren't followed."

She pursed her lips, looking annoyed once more. An emotion that was a normal occurrence for the two teenagers when it came to dealing with each other. "Be that as it may, I would prefer that we not test with our luck. At least not tonight."

Stepping away from him and dropping his wrist, trying to ignore how comforting his warmth had been for the brief moments she had touched him, she quickly lit more candles. Using spark rocks this time.

Once done, she turned to Zuko, hands on her satchel.

"Take off your shirt."

Having been in the process of drinking some water from the pitcher, Zuko spluttered. Coughing, water dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt, he stared at her wide-eyed and slightly panicked.

"What?!"

Realizing just how she must've sounded, Orora shook her head vigorously, even as her cheeks tinged pink. Despite her dark complexion, the evidence of her embarrassment was still visible.

"Spirits Zuko! So that I can check your chest. Jet hit you pretty hard." She clarified, bending water and coating her hands with it. Wiping the spilled water from his chin, his face still burning, Zuko shook his head. "I'm fine. I don't need you to look at it."

He moved to walk away. "I'm going to bed."

Nostrils flaring in anger, Orora allowed her arms to snap forward, creating twin whips from the water she had meant to use to heal him. The whips wrapped around his wrists and yanked him back. "Hey! What?!" He stumbled but managed to recover his footing as Orora brought him to stand in front of her.

The firebender rounded on her, golden eyes alight with an anger that would send any other person running for the hills. But not Orora. She stared back, calm and cold. A cold anger, he would often muse to himself.

"What was that for? I told you, I don't need your help." Having dropped the whips, she bended the water back inside her satchel, never once letting her eyes stray from his furious face.

"Why do you have to be so reckless about this? About everything?" She demanded. "I'm offering to heal your injury. What if you're hurt badly? What if your injury gets worse if left untreated?"

Zuko scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from her intense gaze. "You're only offering because you feel guilty that I got hurt pushing you out of the way."

That had to be the only reason. She didn't care about him enough to actually be worried about him.

Orora was silent for a beat, blinking at him before she huffed. "You're right. I do feel guilty." He smirked smugly.

He was right.

"But I'm also worried about you."

His mind, or maybe his heart, came to a sudden halt.

Now that he had certainly not been expecting.

Mouth slightly agape, he turned his gaze back in her direction, noting how this time, for once, she couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes found the white patch of hair. An overwhelming feeling overcame him. One that nearly compelled him to reach out and touch it. His fingers twitched at his side, and he would've done it too.

If Orora hadn't looked back up just then.

"You didn't even comprehend the situation before you decided to fight Jet. What if he had been a better fighter then you?" She asked. Though she had claimed that she was worried for him, her tone sounded angry.

A feeling he reciprocated as the scowl returned to crease his forehead. "But he wasn't. And I won. Besides, he was about to attack, Orora. If I hadn't defended myself, I would've definitely gotten hurt worse."

"We could've talked to him." She tried to reason, prompting Zuko to let out a laugh of disbelief. "Are you honestly that naive? Do you think he would've listened to you?"

She was nearly fuming with anger at his tone and his words. Condescending would be the best way to describe them both. She could even see it in his face from how close he was standing to her. Only a small step away. "Its not about being naive, Zuko. Its called avoiding a physical conflict where it can be avoided."

"We're here to build a peaceful life." She continued. "And that means not getting into physical fights with the first threat that comes our way. Fighting isn't always the answer."

Zuko glared at her before moving to turn away. "I've spent the last few years fighting Orora, and it's whats kept me alive and helped me survive." So saying, he started to walk towards their bedrooms once more. He didn't want her to be satisfied by the fact that what she said was true. Zuko was almost afraid she would be able to read his mind and see what was in his heart if she looked at him hard enough with those intense blue eyes of hers.

But Orora wasn't having it.

She was tired. Tired of the half-truths and the lies. Tired of not getting the full picture. Tired of being unable to understand him.

But what frustrated her the most? Was that she couldn't help him.

And she wanted to. So badly.

"So thats it then is it?!" She called after him, her voice raising slightly. "You're just gonna keep fighting until it gets you killed?" Her words brought him to a sudden halt, an act that prompted her to keep speaking. "You fight all the time Zuko. And not just with me or your Uncle. You fight life. You fight against what fate has planned for you in that moment. You never allow yourself to simply......be!"

She could see the tension in his shoulders before he turned to face her. "Well life hasn't been kind to me Orora, its why I fight back." He responded, his voice matching her tone. "I have to fight, because if I don't I'll only loose more pieces of myself like I have over the years."

"You'll loose yourself anyway just by fighting so much. Not to mention all the good things you'll miss in life." Silence followed her words, several moments where the both of them just stared at one another.

"You don't have to fight all the time Zuko." She said, her voice soft and gentle.

He clenched his fists and nearly bared his teeth. "Yes, I do!"

She threw her arms in the air, a breathless laugh of disbelief falling from her lips as she did. "Spirits, why do you intend to fight with me even on this?! I know you think I'm right. I can see it in your face. I've known you long enough to read you Zuko."

"Don't pretend like you know anything about me, Orora." He all but growled, stalking forward so that they were nearly nose to nose. "You know nothing."

She had to tilt her head back to look at him properly. "Alright then fine, tell me. Why do you fight all the time then? Why are you so intent on attacking anything or anyone, even if its someone who offers you kindness and love?"

"Because its who I am."

"Thats not an answer."

"Yes it is!"

"It's not and you know it. You're always giving your opinion on everything why not this huh? Why do you insist on being so stubborn? Why do you always fight back?"

"Because the last time I didn't fight back, I had my face burned off by my father!"

Silence.

A horrified silence followed his outburst.

Zuko's eyes widened in horror as his mind caught up with what he had said. And while his mind worked a mile a moment, trying to come up with something that would help him take back what he had just said, what he had just revealed, Orora's mind was sluggishly trying to process what she had just heard.

His father.

Her face paled.

The scar.

Her pale blue eyes found the marred skin widening in sheer horror.

His father had burned his face?!

She opened her mouth, looking as if she were about to say something.

But what?

Behind Orora the latch on the door pushed up, the door opened, and Iroh stepping in carrying several bowls of food on a tray. "The restaurant by the tea shop were kind enough to offer us food for the night and I could not refuse." He stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

His nephew and his pupil both in fighting stances, Orora with ice daggers clutched in either of her hands, and Zuko looking ready to throw a fireball.

Iroh's heart clenched in his chest as he took in the two children. This is what the war had turned them into. Being on guard every moment of the day, ready to defend themselves against the enemy. "You need not be so tense, the danger has passed." He tried to reassure them, and though they did drop their defensive positions, the tension in their bodies remained.

"I'm going to bed." Zuko stated, and before Iroh could even ask him about dinner the young prince had disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"Is he alright?" The concerned man asked, to which Orora gave a small shrug. His face settled into a concerned look. Something had happened, he sensed, between the both of them.

And it would be best if he not step in, he mused to himself as he and Orora ate in silence. Allow them to work it out between themselves, he reasoned as he watched his pupil play with her food rather then eat it.

He did notice how she put a plate on top of Zuko's bowl of food, in an effort to keep it warm.

                                          ————————–

It was well past midnight, she was sure.

And yet she couldn't sleep.

She hadn't even bothered going to bed. Instead, once Iroh had retired, she had opted on making herself some tea. Clutching the smooth clay cup, she had settled on the floor, back against the wall. She had removed her dress for the day, leaving her in a loose shirt and baggy pair of trousers. Her shoes were discarded on the floor, and she had removed the comb from her hair. At every other interval she would lift the cup to her lips to take a sip of the sweet concoction she had brewed, but other then that, she remained still.

Her mind, however, was racing faster then she had ever thought possible. And yet, none of them seemed to be making sense. She would start thinking of something, before another thought would overtake it.

The only thing all her thoughts had in common was that they were all centered around her soulmate.

A sudden thump from above had her nearly jumping out of her skin. Dropping the nearly empty cup with a small clatter, she was jumping out from the window just behind her and had swinging herself up onto the roof.

Only to stop short when she saw what, or rather who had made the noise.

Zuko stared back at her, looking just as startled as she felt. "I'm-I'm sorry. I just thought it was someone attacking again." She quickly explained, feeling a little embarrassed. Why was she so paranoid about the smallest of noises? She hadn't been this way while they were roaming the countryside.

For his part, Zuko shook his head. "Its fine." He was sitting the slightly slanted roof. His hair was mussed, as if he had been tossing in bed, and his sleep clothes were rumpled. He was wearing nearly the same style of clothing she was, though his shirt had no sleeves to them. Her curiosity got the better of her as she asked. "What're you doing up here?"

The banished prince shrugged in response. "Couldn't sleep." There was an almost resigned tone in his voice as he spoke. Orora nodded. "Yeah, me neither."

Their eyes met, a mutual understanding passing between the both of them. Finally, Zuko, being the first to look away, sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I suppose, you have some questions." Biting her lower lip, Orora gave a small shrug. "Only if you want to answer them. I don't want to force you or anything."

He shook his head. "No, I think....well....you've stayed by us for so long. You........you deserve to know." Not wanting to see her reaction to his offer, especially if it was negative, he turned away.

A small stretch of silence, one where Zuko thought that maybe she didn't want to know. Didn't want anything to do with him. Then again, who would? His own father had banished him. His mother had left him. And his sister had never liked him.

But then he felt her coming to stand next to him before settling down. She mirrored his pose, legs against the chest, arms wrapped around them, chin placed between the valley of her knees. His arms rested atop his knees though, both their gazes trained towards the skyline of Ba Seng Se.

"Did your father really...." She trailed off, shifting her head so she could look at him. For his part, Zuko didn't move his gaze, however he did nod. "He did. It was punishment, for speaking against him at a War Council."

"Kind of a harsh one don't you think?" She muttered, to which Zuko shook his head. "I deserved it." The three words slipped so easily out of his mouth that Orora literally froze from the shock of it. How could he even think he deserved to be punished so brutally? Zuko was oblivious to her inner turmoil as he continued. "I spoke against him in front of the entire War Council. It was not my place to question him or doubt his decision."

"But you're the Prince. Aren't you allowed to give your opinion?" She asked, wandering just how politics worked in the Fire Nation.

He shook his head. "Not when it goes against the Fire Lord's word."

Orora frowned. "But what if his word is wrong?" Her question had the Prince tensing up, something that she caught prompting her to ask her next question. "He was wrong wasn't he?" Had Zuko been burned because his father didn't like to be called out when he did something wrong?

"One of the Generals suggested they send new recruits as a diversion. Sacrifice them, use them as bait." A dark frown marred his forehead. "Fresh meat he called them."

A cold feeling erupted in her spine, traveling down to the very tips of her toes, and racing through her veins. "How could they do that? They were just soldiers following orders." She spoke, her voice soft with disbelief, eyes wide.

Zuko turned his head to look at her, a surprised look playing about his features. "That's exactly what I said, but it wasn't my place to speak out. I disrespected the War Council, which in turn meant I disrespected the Fire Lord. I challenged them, and a challenge in the Fire Nation means-"

"An Agni Kai."

He stopped short, giving her a surprised look. "I didn't think you would know about that." She gave a small shrug. "I used to read a lot. And that included reading about all the other Nations as well. Didn't have anything else to do at the North Pole." She admitted with a small smile. Zuko returned the smile before continuing, the curve of his lips disappearing.

"So yeah, I had to fight an Agni Kai. I had thought I would be fighting the old General who had come up with the plan. But when I faced my opponent, I found out it was my father."

Orora released a startled breath, eyes widening in horror. "Spirits. Is that when he burned you? While you were fighting him? Wait no, you said you didn't fight back against your father." She corrected herself, remembering their conversation from earlier.

He nodded. "Yeah, I didn't fight him. I could never fight my father. I begged for forgiveness, told him I always had the Nation's best interest at heart but it was no use, and well," He turned his head to look at her fully. "You see the result of it everyday."

Orora had to remind herself to breath as she allowed her gaze to land on his scar. Just because he had spoken what was right, he'd been burned, scarred for the rest of his life.

"And if that wasn't enough." Wait there was more? "He banished me from the Fire Nation. Said I had dishonored him, and the only way to regain my honor, and be welcomed home was if I found and captured the Avatar."

She frowned. "But Aang only appeared a few months ago. How long ago did your father banish you?" She asked, trying to figure it out in her head.

"Well, I was thirteen when I was banished, spent almost three years traveling the world looking for him, chased him for months up to the North Pole. Lost my ship and my crew. My sister declared us traitors to the Fire Nation and since then we've been living as fugitives." He let out a dry chuckle. "Its been a few eventful years."

Orora waved her hand. "Wait wait! Go back, I'm still stuck on the first part. You were thirteen?!"

He frowned but nodded. "Yes?"

"You were only thirteen years old when your father burned you and banished you?" She confirmed again, her voice breathless in her disbelief.

He frowned. "Whats so difficult to understand about that?"

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because Orora looked like she was about to tackle him. "Whats so difficult?! Whats so difficult!?" Her voice rose slightly as she moved to sit on her knees beside him. "Whats difficult for me is that I don't understand how your own father scarred you for life, before banishing you from your own home?! How could he do that?"

He blinked at her, looking a little startled at her outburst. "Didn't your father banish you too? Just because you were fighting for the right thing like I was?"

She stopped short. "Oh." Where she had been speaking so passionately before, she slumped where she sat. "Right, I forgot."

Zuko blinked at her. "How could you forget something so important?" He asked, sounding just as incredulous as he looked. She shrugged. "I mean I do remember it from time to time, but I don't let it define who I am."

She gave him a meaningful look, one that had him pursing his lips and looking away. "And at least I wasn't a kid when my father threw me out." She reasoned, to which Zuko gave a small smirk. "We're still kids Orora. I mean teenagers are considered kids right?"

Nodding, she hummed. "Thats debatable, for the both of us. I mean we've both been banished by our fathers. You were scarred. I was disinherited. You're wanted by your Nation. I nearly died. And I'm sure attempts have been made on your life." She looked at him in a questioning manner to which he gave a small nod.

Sighing Orora closed her eyes, before shrugging. "I don't think I would use the word kids to describe us Zuko." She finally stated, straightening so she was sitting facing the skyline once more.

Though this time, she sat much closer to Zuko then before. The lull in conversation allowed her to think on what she had heard so far. But the lack of mention of someone had her frowning in confusion.

"You've talked about your father, your sister and I know you have an Uncle, but what about your mother?"

She could physically feel him tense up beside her. Turning her head, she watched as an unbearably sad look overcame his features. For once, he didn't bother to hide his emotions. "She disappeared a long time ago. No one knows where. The official story is that she died, but she just....left."

Spirits, she had never heard his voice sound so broken and hopeless.

"Were you two close?" She asked, her voice soft and barely above a whisper, as if afraid any loud noise would shatter the moment. He nodded. "I.....she was.....is the only person who really knew me. I've never been that close with anyone. Not even Uncle."

There were still parts of himself that he had no intention of sharing with his Uncle, though he knew the old man was already aware of them.

"My parents weren't soulmates, so it was easy for her to leave I suppose." He added, feeling that all too familiar anguish settling in his chest whenever he would think about his mother leaving him behind too.

Something warm and soft pressed against his arm, before slowly sliding up to cover his hand. He turned his head to see Orora right beside him, her eyes trained to where her hand covered his.

"I'm sure that whatever reasons she had for leaving, it broke her heart to leave you." Earnest ice blue eyes raised to meet his amber gold hues. "I'm sure she loved you Zuko. Maybe, one day, you can go and look for her."

A blush stole across her cheeks, a nervousness overcoming her, but she continued. "And when you do, if you'd like, I can be there with you to help however I can." Zuko stared back, mouth slightly agape. He couldn't understand why she would offer to do something like that. Help him. No one had ever offered to help him voluntarily. He had always had to fight for his right to be heard, seen and, at one point, even to live.

Feeling that perhaps she had overstepped a little bit, Orora shifted her gaze to look out to the sky once more. It was beginning to change color. Dawn was approaching. "But only if you need it." She added, her grip on his hand not letting up. "I don't want to overstep any boundaries or anything."

"Why?"

That one word had her frowning in confusion as she looked back at him. "Why what?"

He had a rather adorably confused look. "Why would you want to help me?"

Orora blinked. "Oh." She pursed her lips before answering. "Because its the right thing to do."

Though her answer was spoken in a kind tone, Zuko couldn't help but feel disappointed. About what though, he had no idea. Brushing a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, Orora sighed and continued.

"And also because, somewhere during these few months, despite how we met and whatever animosity has been between the both of us, I've come to see you as a friend Zuko." Spirits, her face felt like it was on fire!

For his part Zuko wasn't any better. While her blush was subtle given her tanned skin, his was more then obvious. The sight of Zuko blushing did have an involuntary laugh falling from her lips. The two of them lapsed into silence, watching as the sky grew lighter in color, and as the first beam of sunshine appeared, Zuko felt his entire body thrum with energy at the sight of the rising sun.

"Well so long as you can tolerate the ugly scar and bad temper, I suppose you can come along." He tried to joke, though the mention of his scar had her frowning darkly.

"Its not an ugly scar Zuko." She stated firmly, moving so she could sit on her knees again. This time she held his hand in both of her own in the space between the two of them. "You got the scar because you were trying to protect innocent lives. The person who gave you the scar? They're the ones who are truly ugly Zuko." He looked like he was about to argue, but she didn't let him.

"Even if I hadn't heard this story, I would never think of your scar as ugly, because I never would've judged you on your appearance." Her gaze had not left his during her entire speech, but now it did. A kind smile played at her lips as she reached out with her other hand, to place it atop his chest, where she could feel his heart beating under her touch.

"You are a beautiful person Zuko. You've proven it so many times since the day we met at the North Pole. And no scar is going to hide your kind heart."

Zuko felt as if Orora's voice was echoing in his ears, her words sounded strange. No one had ever associated such words with him. Yet here was a girl, he had not even known a few months ago, looking at him so openly, kindly and earnestly that he felt that this was nothing but an illusion.

Clearing his throat, the young prince averted his gaze, unable to continue looking at her. "Th-thank you, Orora." It was a miracle how he was able to form just those simple words. Spirits, he was going to be permanently red in the face if she kept saying all those things to him.

Sensing that maybe she had embarrassed him enough, the young waterbender retreated her hands from his person, though neither of them missed how his hand flinched when her hand left his. Almost as if he were about to reach out and grasp it again.

"I should get down and get a few hours of sleep before we have to work." She stated, slowly standing up and brushing the front of her clothes. "See you later, Zuko." Her heart was lightened for once. She hoped that what she had said would help him somehow.

He had to say something! Anything! Anything to assure her that her words didn't fall on deaf ears, that her kindness to him wasn't something he was about to throw right back in her face. He had done that too many times, and she was right. Maybe it was time to accept the kindness people showed him from time to time.

"Orora?" He called out to the parting waterbender, trying not to recall just how warm her hand had felt enveloped in his own a few moments ago.

"Hmm?" She turned around to look at him, a smile on her lips.

One that he mirrored as he said. "I'm glad that we're friends." He admitted, prompting the girl's smile to widen even more.

"So am I Zuko."

Deep down they had both come to care for one another, and not just because they were soulmates, but because they were friends.

                                          ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist @jinxxangel13 @lotr-got @bitterspoons @realrintaro @gatorgirl151 @inutheangel @heartfully10

[skelly-words]

hiii , if i can ask for like mammon and mc sitting in his room and he tried to "do it" with her a lot of times but she just stop him , one day he get a little mad so asked for asmo help , so asmo asked mc what was the reason and she told him that she feel insecure abt her body , he conferm her، and when asmo tell mammon abt it he go to her and make her love her body on his way

thanks if u accept it and if not have a good day<333333

(NSFW Mammon x Reader)

18+ no minors allowed!

Hiiiii anon, thanks for the ask. hope this is what you were looking for. This was proofread by Grammarly and that's it so I apologize in advance for mistakes.

No use of Y/N. There are no pronouns used (I think) but the reader is pretty feminine (wears a skirt, pretty girl is used once or twice, has a pussy.)

Tags: serviceswitch!mammon o7, very vanilla, light fluff, praise, cunnilingus, cumming untouched, very light angst, hair pulling, language, spit kink? lemme know if I missed anything

Synopsis: see ask above. Mammon eats you out.

Wc: 3.7k

You and Asmo love to gossip. Every week or so you get together, shopping and pampering yourselves and spilling every detail of your personal lives. You're ending the relaxing afternoon with bottomless mimosas at Hell’s Kitchen’s Sunday brunch, talking way too loudly about everybody’s business. It’s so easy to forget about the world and vent when the waiter fills up your champagne glass and Asmo smiles so encouragingly at every word you say. Though, today it seems like Asmodeus has an agenda. He keeps steering the conversation towards you and Mammon’s budding relationship, which is exactly the topic you want to avoid. 

“At least tell me if he's a decent lay” Asmo whines. “If not I have a 50-slide presentation I can send you to give him a crash course in pussy.”

“That sounds more like a master’s program. Besides, I wouldn't know.” You mumble the last part around the rim of the champagne glass as you down the drink, and Asmo signals at a waitress to bring you a refill. 

“What?” Asmo really tries to sell his shock here. He feels bad lying to you, but it's not often he has Mammon begging for a favor. “No way, are you losing interest?”

You shake your head quickly. “No.”

“Are you a virgin? Is it too much pressure?” With every question he scoots a little closer to you in the booth, so you only need to whisper an answer. 

“Nothing like that. I've been with a couple of people before, and Mammon is really sweet. He barely even mentions sex at all anymore. I think he might even be scared to kiss me. I'm more worried about him losing interest if I don't put out.”

“You don't have to worry about that. He's insane about you.” Asmo scoffs. “Like he-should-be-institutionalized insane.”

You laugh at Asmo and shove his arm off of where it loops over your shoulder. 

“No, I'm serious,” he continues. “I want to sedate him before even mentioning you. I think he'd rename important landmarks after you if he could. Whenever his mouth opens, there's a 96% chance he's gonna bring you up. You get it?”

“Thanks, I get it,” you murmur softly. Tears threaten to fall as your vision blurs a little and you blame the four mimosas and the fifth one the waitress sets in front of you. “Now I feel guilty. He's too sweet for me.”

“No, hun. That's not what I meant.” Asmo pulls you into a hug. A real one that he doesn't let you shrug off. “What I'm saying is that you can talk to him about whatever you want and I'm sure he’ll understand or at least help you work through it.”

His hug is warm and soothing, arms holding you close and tight without feeling suffocating. 

“You're the best, Asmo,” The words are a little slurred and shaky, but it’s easy to get emotional when you’re buzzed and Asmo is being so sweet. “I don’t know. It has nothing to do with Mammon. It’s just, I’ve never had great self-esteem, so physical intimacy can be a little hard. I mean, there's plenty of things for me to be insecure about, and I'm aware of every single one of them, so when I see how pretty and perfect Mammon is-”

“Gross.” He cuts you off at the perfect time, right before your sappy rambling. He makes a retching sound and reaches for his drink to wash away that sourness. 

You glare up at him. “That's my boyfriend you're gagging at, asshole.”

“Yeah. You sure know how to pick ‘em.” His nose scrunches up, and you're half-sure it’s involuntary. 

“Yeah.” You sigh dreamily and continue. “I just don't know how to bring a mood-killer like that up.”

“Want me to tell him for you?”

You think about it for a moment. “I feel like I should stop being a little bitch and just rip off the band-aid.”

“Okay, you could, but you haven't.”

“I think talking it out with you will make it easier though. I'm gonna talk to him as soon as we get home.”

“Promise? Cause I'm sick of him bitching about how you don't love him anymore.”

You smile and nod and pretend the confidence is from more than the alcohol. “I promise.”

***

Mammon’s been waiting for Asmo to text him all day, nervously pacing or playing with random things in his room to occupy the time. He’s flipping through an old copy of a magazine he modeled for when his phone buzzes with Asmo’s custom ringtone, quickly followed by yours. He snatches the phone off the bed and flops down between the pillows. He reads the text from Asmo first.

Asmo: So so, sorry, but I can’t spill ): We’ll be home in like 20 minutes

“Ugh.” Mammon glares at the ceiling. He was sure Asmo would come through. Especially after loaning you two Lucifer’s stolen his credit card for the day out. 

Mammon opened your messages next.

<3: We’ll be back in a little bit.

<3: If you’re not busy, let’s hang out. Love ya

Mammon: I’m never too busy for you, chillin' in my room

<3: Good answer

The next twenty minutes are spent trying to figure out how to dress. Mammon tries to master the look of lazily lounging around the house without looking suspiciously slutty. The final decision was a black wife beater and basketball shorts. He even experimentally smudges his eyeliner to make it look a little slept-in. He carefully uses the remaining time to switch out accessories and pose around his room in an attempt to see “where he looks the hottest.” In the end, his efforts are futile and he doesn’t notice you come in, too busy changing out his earrings.

“Hey.” You tap him on the shoulder, hesitantly, not wanting to scare him. 

“Oh, hey, hi.” He turns around, lips pressed into a smile that looks a little too tight for his face. “So how was your day with, um, Asmo?”

“Nice.” Now that the mimosas had worn off and Asmodeus wasn’t around to keep you confident, the impending conversation was starting to make you nervous. 

“Just nice?” Mammon asked with a tilt of his head. “What can I do to make your day better, babe?” He gently cups your face, becoming acutely aware of the sweat on his palms, and the breakfast on his breath when he kisses you.

You kick yourself for how quickly you break the kiss to murmur against his lips, “I’ve been lying to you. Well, only by omission, but still. Can we talk?”

Your hands hold each other to stay steady. Realistically, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You’ve blown this whole thing out of proportion, but it’s not like insecurities follow basic logic. 

“Yea, ‘f course.” His hands trail down your sides. 

You don’t notice the sweat, more the warmth as he thumbs over each of your ribs.

“Just talk to me, angel.”

And you hate that it sounds like he’s begging. Like he wants you to dump your baggage on him. Especially, when it should be so easy for you to just get over it on your own.

“I don't think I'm hot enough for you.” It comes out messy and unarticulated.

“What? That’s ins-”

You don’t let him finish, cutting his rebuttal off with the more rehearsed version of what you said. “I mean, whenever I go to see you at your photoshoots, you look so good with those other models. You're surrounded by all these perfect men and women who you'd look great with, so great that it's literally on the cover of a magazine, and I can't compete with that. And it's not like this hasn't happened before. I've never been the first choice, just someone to settle for or a rebound, y’know?”

“Not really.” He scratches the back of his neck, realizing how clammy his hands have become and how uninspiring that answer is. “But, well, that's because I've never felt that way about you. There’s no need to compete with anybody, baby. You're everything to me. I don't even notice other people when you're around or when I'm thinking about you, which is always. And I can't make up for shitty past relationships, but I hope you know I'm better than that.”

“Thank you, and I wanted to apologize. That’s why I’ve been avoiding being physical with you, but that seems kinda dumb now. So, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. And I'm a little insulted that you'd compare me to your past partners. I'm The Great Mammon, not some idiot human boy with no brain. I can't even comprehend why you'd jump to that. I'm appalled, disgusted even, livi-”

You cut him off with a kiss. Smiling into the lines of his lips as he struggles to keep up. 

He breaks the kiss to keep talking. “And I'm not just saying all this ‘cause I wanna have sex with you. Not that I don't want to do that. I just don't want you thinki-”

“Shut the fuck up, Mammon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His hands find your waist again to pull you towards him. 

The way you kiss is slow and natural. A welcome change to the stiff distance you’d previously been putting between your bodies. His hands wander and guide you closer. It takes a moment for you to reciprocate, too distracted by the simple comfort of his touch.

You rest your arms on his shoulders, lazily lifting a hand to play with the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. As your fingers tangle higher up on his head, you tug gently to pull him away. It’s nice just to look into his eyes for a second. The dark blue near the center of his iris almost blends with his blown pupils. You find it impossible to pick a favorite shade of blue when his kaleidoscope gaze stares so intensely back at you. 

“It’s you who’s too pretty for me.” Mammon doesn’t even try to kiss you, just looking at you, flicking his eyes up and down your face. His thumbs barely dip under your shirt and skim the skin of your stomach, memorizing it in the pads of his fingers. 

“Stop it.” You take a small, nearly involuntary, step backward. 

He follows you, pushes you until the back of your knees hits the edge of the bed. 

“No. You gonna let me see all of your pretty self?” He asks. “Take it off.”

Mammon gently stretches the fabric of your shirt away from your body, waiting patiently for you to comply. 

You nod. Your eyes slip shut as you peel the top off, and you don’t bother opening them to see his reaction. You just wait for him to say something, to touch you, or to give you any indication of disgust and rejection.

He holds you gently by the side of your neck, lifting your chin with the pads of his thumbs.

“Can you look at me, sunshine?” 

It takes a moment for you to make eye contact with him. You’re not expecting him to be disgusted or reject you, but that doesn’t stop you from being nervous or unsure. He smiles when you finally meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything right now. It’s your call, always, okay?”

“Okay, but I do want you right now. ‘M just a little nervous.” Your hands need something to do, so they go back to threading through his hair. You thank Jesus that Mammon takes that as a cue to kiss. His hands smooth down to your shoulders, never breaking away from your skin. 

The kiss is too long and too deep, not parting until you’re roughly panting into each other’s mouths. You sit on the bed and Mammon pushes you down onto the mattress, waiting for you to tell him to stop.

“Don't just stare, weirdo.”

He chuckles, and you can feel it on your face.

“Sorry. I just can’t believe you’re real, and really with me.” His admission comes with a blush smeared across his face. It’s hard for him to continue the eye contact after that. Mammon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he laughs again. “You’re just here, and I love you so much.”

Your fingers are less rough in his hair, gentle and soothing. His arms dip behind your back to hug you, keeping your bodies pressed together for a minute or five. Until he’s sure you’re not leaving. When he finally moves, it’s to unhook and remove your bra, but then he’s back to hugging you again. This time, kissing between your breasts, he doesn’t know why you’d ever keep this from him. His hands don't stay in one place for long, wanting to feel every inch of the body that you've been hiding. 

“You know what pisses me off the most?” Mammon lifts his head to look up at you. Saliva coats his mouth, your skin, and connects the two with lust and heat. 

You don't answer, half-scared he's changed his mind. 

“I hate knowing that someone else has seen you like this before me. I wish I was your first everything.” His mouth is smothering yours again like he wants the feeling of his lips to stay there even after you’ve parted. From your mouth, he drags light kisses down your jaw and to your neck. He keeps you so close that, even though he can't see it, he can feel the flush coming off of you. 

“You won't hide from me anymore, right?” His kisses begin at the junction of your shoulder but quickly drop lower, down your chest, tummy, thighs, winding a clear path down your torso.

“Hey.” Mammon stops and the fuzziness dissolves. Your attention easily snaps back to him, where he kneels on the floor, hair sticking out where you’d tugged it out of place. “When I ask you questions, fucking answer me.”

You swallow thickly and nod, unsure of what would come out if you opened your mouth. 

“Words, babe. You won’t hide from me anymore?” Though it’s a statement, he’s still asking. The skin of your thighs is worried between his teeth as he waits for an answer. 

“I wo-” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply when his teeth dig in too hard. He soothes that spot with his tongue, making you moan into the back of your hand. 

“Close enough,” he murmurs.

He inches the hem of your skirt up as his lips climb back up your skin. 

You scoot up the bed when his mouth lands on the crotch of your panties next. He chases you, following and following until your back is pressed against the headboard.

“Quit that.” Mammon yanks your knees apart. His broad shoulders stop your legs from snapping back shut. “Where’re you going?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I mean- don’t you wanna fuck?”

He nods into the crease of your thigh, nosing the lace trim of your panties. “But not yet, treasure. I’ve been missing meals, gonna make up for lost time. Can I taste your pretty pussy, please?”

“Yeah,” and it comes out like a breath. You slip your panties off. Mammon never lets you close your legs, so you have to frustratingly take one leg out at a time. 

He grabs the garment, dangling the blue panties in front of your face.

“Can I keep these?”

You snort. “Pervert.”

“So?”

“Yeah, you can have them.”

Mammon neatly folds the dirty underwear and roughly stuffs them into the pocket of his shorts.

“You’ll get them back when I’m done.” He’s not looking at you when he says that, eyes dropping lower to where your legs are spread as he pushes your skirt up around your waist. You feel warm like it’s too much for him to look at you.

“Gross,” but it comes out weak. You’ve shrunk back into the pillows, barely breathing between your fingers, mouth gone dry.

“Uhuh.” Mammon nods, dragging his nose down the trimmed hair above your slit. The hands on your thighs slide inward, keeping your legs spread and pinned against his pillows. His bottom lip brushes your clit as his mouth drops lower. He completely skips over the nub, licking at the slick pooling beneath it. “You get this wet for everyone?”

You can’t speak, covering your mouth with your palm to bar any sounds from escaping. His head tilts, looking both amused and curious as he waits for an answer.

“No,” you mumble.

“Yeah, well good.” Mammon’s mouth quirks up into a smug grin as he readjusts himself to lay more comfortably on the bed. He lies flat on his stomach, lazily kicking his legs back and forth as he kisses around your clit. He knows exactly where it is, but teases on purpose until he can feel your hips straining beneath his hands. 

Mammon’s palms keep you pressed down so easily that you don’t notice how desperate you are beneath him. Not until he lets you go. The reaction of your body is involuntary, a few rough rolls of your hips before you can keep yourself still. Your groans are stifled by your palm, you can feel the hot breath and saliva collecting behind your hand. 

“Wait?” He sounds disappointed. “Don't stop.” 

Mammon’s hands catch beneath your thighs, sloppily simulating the roll of your hips against his face. The movements of his mouth are less coordinated, too preoccupied with the strain on his forearms. Your juices smear messily on his chin as he works you open, pushing more and more of his tongue into you.

Spit collects in your mouth. You can’t keep from moaning into your palm, and all that sweat and drool runs from the corners of your mouth to collect on your chin. His mouth is warm, and the flick of his tongue deep inside you makes you match the pace he’s already set. 

Mammon grunts against your cunt. You can feel it more than hear it. The sound is low, deep in his chest, and drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. The edge of your orgasm builds with the soft vibrations of his lips. Your hesitant grind is pushed quicker by the need to get off. Every glance down at your spit-covered pussy has you bucking upward with a muffled gasp. 

Mammon is lazy, leaving you to chase your high as he looks up at you, enamored by how you still try so hard to cover the sounds spilling from your mouth. He’d say something about it if his mouth wasn’t so busy. It’s not until you dare to stop staring at him that he speaks up.

“C’mon.” Mammon lands a sloppy kiss on your clit. “What? Now you’re too good to even look at me, pretty girl?” He manages to sound so fucking pathetic and upset that you look back down at him. He grins back at you, pleased with his performance. Small kisses work up from your sopping hole to swollen bud. He flicks his tongue, teasing and testing before fully sucking on it. 

“Shit.” This is the first sound you let through your fingers, followed by a shaky moan as you try to control your breath. You can’t help but pant, stuttering, and heavy between the gaps in your fingers. 

“I know,” Mammon keeps his words short, barely parting from your skin to speak.

Though he tries to hide it, you can’t help but notice how he pushes his hips into the comforter, grinding his dick against the mattress through however many layers of fabric. You almost feel bad for him, but then he moans against you like he’s the one getting head. 

The hand you’d been using to keep yourself muffled reached between your legs to tangle in Mammon’s hair. The palm is still tacky from spit, sticking to make you tug rougher on the strands than you mean to. 

“M-more. Just a little bit more.” The words stumble out of your mouth like you don't know what you’re saying. Whatever will make him push his tongue a little deeper. “Pretty please.”

“Mhmm,” Mammon moans an affirmative into your pussy. He can feel your clit throb against his nose. Each second that passes brings you closer to climaxing. 

You’re stuffed full of his tongue, rubbing your clit on the bump of his nose. He’s barely done anything himself except taking it and whining. The rhythmic rutting of his hips starts working the comforter up the bed, gathering it beneath him to fuck into. He’s not even looking at you straight anymore, eyes focusing or crossing dazedly. 

You tighten your hand in his hair by pure instinct as you writhe beneath him.

“I think I’m gonna-” You’re not given a chance to finish before the twist in your stomach spills over. “O-oh, Mammon. Fuck, I’m-”

The last of your words are drowned out by his own needy moans. His hips hump the comforter bunched beneath him.

“Fuck, I love you.” His tongue licks a long stripe up your cunt.

“I’m still sensitive.” You shudder, and the hand in his hair falls to grip your skirt.

“Gotta clean up my mess,” he mumbles. He laps the saliva and cum from your skin, eventually just leaving wet kisses up the crease of your thigh. 

Mammon’s sweaty and flushed, still grinding into the blankets. His eyes flick shut and he lays his head flat on your lower stomach. His breaths are quick, warming your skin. 

A hand slips from underneath you to overlap yours. He pulls it back to his hair. “Pull it again.”

You want to be gentle, running a hand through the white strands. Mammon doesn’t care for your afterglow tenderness and slaps the side of your leg.

“Please, baby. I wanna cum.” Mammon kisses your stomach, low below your navel.

You can’t help but laugh at him. It’s too pathetic when accompanied by the frantic rolls of his hips. You can feel the skin beneath his head get sticky from the sweat and drool he smears onto you. He looks and sounds more fucked out than you just from using his mouth on you.  His thrusts stutter when you twist cruelly on his hair. 

“Yes, yes, like that.” He lets out a string of swears as he spills into his sweatpants. His labored breathing crests and slows, and you can feel when they finally grow even. “Thank you, treasure.”

Mammon doesn’t move from where he is, still comfortably tucked between your legs as he comes down from his high. It’s not until he’s been suspiciously quiet for too long that you realize he’s asleep.

[lanareadsbooks]

I’m confused about us?

Inspired by this mood board I made 🩷

This is basically just ooc Billy and literally doesn’t fit into the show’s storyline at all but I love me a good cowboy so I had to write about him.

Tags: Dom!Billy Sub!Reader punishments are given, spanking, smut, oral (m) lemme know if I missed any!

It’s 18 something (?? I have no clue when the show is set in) and you’re 19 when your parents decide drop you off with a man you barely know. William H Booney. They said “he’s a the son of some good friends of ours and they said he’ll straighten you right out” I don’t need straightening. You think. Geez you steel one truck and a bottle of liquor and suddenly everyone thinks your a problem. When you were first introduced you thought “hey maybe this won’t be so bad” You. Were. Wrong. Within the first 30 minutes your parents had left you, you couldn’t stand him. He came and sat down in front of your spot on his couch, Ok listen here little girl. He said, You frowned. Little girl? You thought. These are my rules. Follow them and you and me will be just fine. He smiled. No.1 please don’t steal no trucks or anything I have enough trouble with the neighbors around here I don’t need you making that worse for me. 2 Dont back talk me. There is nothing I hate more than an undisciplined girl. Your frown deeper. Though.. I guess that’s why your here isn’t it? He laughed like it was funny. You scoffed. No I’m here because my parents expect me to stay home and clean or embroider. You laugh, And that’s not something I can do every day. Oh? Speaking of that. You’re not gonna be goin out for the first two weeks. WHAT?! You said shocked. Yes mam I think it’s exactly what you need. He said patting your thigh. I need to not go outside? You asked rudely. No you need to realize you only get what given to you. Now I want you to understand if you break any of my rules you gon be goin over my knee that minute young lady. You understand? He asked. You turned red, w-what? You said hoping you misheard him. Yes mam I don’t know about y’all city people but right here when you misbehave you don’t like what happens to ya. N-no you don’t understand, my parents would never let a strange man do that to me. S-so call my daddy and he’ll tell you you’re not allowed to do that to me. You said almost confidently. Sorry sweetheart your folks were real clear I should do whatever need be to make you behave. Tears came to your eyes, but as long as you’re good you’ll be fine. You can do that right? You said to yourself.

No. No you can not.

Less than 24 hours later you found yourself over his lap, it happened because you saw some boys going on a trail ride through the window, you saw one of them had a flask. You thought how bad do I need that, you had been up since 5am thinking about Billy, how blue his eyes were how commanding his voice was (how good he’d fuck you) but that he’d probably never want you. He apparently he saw you as a little girl. Ugh I don’t like older men anyway (wrongg) you thought. As you tried to quietly sneak down the stairs and out the front door. You saw it was locked with a padlock. Shit you thought. Your eyes darted to the window. You smirked, I don’t know what he was thinking I can fit out of these windows easy. As you were lifting the window up all you saw was two hands towing over you and pushing the window back down. Your heart almost stopped. He leaned down to your ear and said. Now what do you think you’re doing little girl? He asked darkly. Uhhhh. before you could come up with an answer. He had picked you up and put you over his shoulder. You squeaked Ah! You yelled. Put me down!- he did in fact put you down… just over his lap. No! You yelled. Oh hush. No need for a tantrum now. I’m not having a tantrum! I’m a grown woman and you can’t do this t- you were cut off by him putting his hand over your mouth. You tried to wiggle your way out but he easily lifted up your skirt. And you felt a warm hand on your bottom. His hand rose, and fell quickly, alternating cheeks. If there was anyone else in the house they would have definitely heard the loud smacks! Billy was giving you. And your muffled cursing. After about 4 minutes of him doing this you were about to cry. You tried to get away but to no avail. He easily pulled you back to position and gave you two extra hard slaps. And kept going. He finished soon after you started crying. Your bottom stung. Nobody had ever done this to you before. It didn’t hurt that bad but the humiliation hurt He brought you back up and sat you on his lap, you quickly adverted your eyes down as to not make eye contact. But he harshly grabbed your face smooshing your cheeks together, listen, he said dominantly like he was scolding a child. This or worse is gon happen every time you disobey me , you let out a light sob just thinking about it. So I’ll let you decide whether or not you want this kind of stuff to keep happening.

No I really do not you thought.

It was two days later when you ended up in this position again. Billy had jokingly bought you an embroidery kit. And you had not so jokingly told him to fuck off. So he threatened to wash your mouth out with soap… what ? You said. I said you better watch your tongue or I’m gon have to wash your mouth out. He said dominantly. You suddenly felt very wet.. and figured what’s the worst that could happen? There are other things of yours I’d like in my mouth more sir. You said in a lustful tone, while looking up at him from your spot on the bed. Literally two seconds later he was unzipping his pants, he used your mouth roughly holding your hair in a ponytail. After he had came in your mouth and regained himself. You stood up and grabbed his shoulders, pressing yourself against him your body asking him for more- huh? You thought as he quickly sat and pulled you down and back over his knee. W-wait Billy- you tried to protest as he cut he off. Hush. Was all you heard before your skirt was lifted and smacks rained down on your poor bottom. “Luckily” for you it was a lighter one than your first but you were still confused. He was spanking you like a disobedient child. Not like a woman that had just sucked him off. “I’m confused about us” you thought.

This is it for today I’m totally planning on making this a series so request anything that would make sense in the story line once I get a few I’ll write part two so the more yall request the faster I’ll write. Also if you guys want to make any mood boards more this id love it! Also my request have been a bit wonky lately so if it doesn’t seem to be working just dm me please! Thanks for reading!