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snailsgoingdowntown · 14 hours ago

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Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Chapter 17

Story Masterlist

Arranged marriage AU

Interact with this linked post to be added to the tag list.

NOTE: The first rough draft was very… different. Dion would have been irredeemable if I went with that (I wrote it forgetting that I didn’t want him to be that way in this story, only to read it to edit it, read the document title, realized my mistake, made a new document because I spent days on it and do want to eventually post it, used the beginning of the og rough draft to start this one, spent even more days to make this). Maybe one day I’ll post it, but it is very non-con heavy. If I ever do, then just think of it as a parallel universe thing for/of this story. But the Dion in this main story is different (He’s still horrible but consent is sexy to him). (Please remember that the content on this blog can and will be heavy and should not be seen as excusable or normal). In other words, I do write about and interact with non-con fics but I do NOT condone rape in real life. Just thought that I would put this reminder here since I may post other fics containing it soon.

Also Zac shows up and he’s a little shit who thinks he walks the walk.

Warnings: slight themes of obsessiveness and possessiveness, slight yandere themes, toxic marriage/relationship, implied physical abuse (towards a toy), mention of the reader becoming a toy, slight blood, themes of imprisonment, implied hypothetical murder, attempted sexual assault (pretty sure), violence used for self-defense, implied past stalking, implied depression, anxiety, near panic attack, mention of vomit, accidental self-injury (you sprained your ankle), one (1) mention of incest, implied perverted thoughts (Fontaine), fear of implied non-con by Fontaine, horrible attempts of connecting everything together as you will soon see. Please tell me if I missed any.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR REBLOG ANYTHING FANDOM RELATED (FICS, ART, ETC.) DNI.

= = =

His declaration shakes you to the bones.

Your mind blanks as your eyes become wide. Sounds are drowned out by the ringing in your ears, a bomb going off. He’s in front of you but you don’t see him - mentally, you were elsewhere.

You return to earth when Dion squeezes your hand. Reluctantly, he releases it, but stays on his knee, his deep scarlet eyes holding something unreadable. Neither of you move, the staring contest is long. You’re the one who breaks it, looking off to the side as his red hues engrave themselves into your mind.

It’s an image that will haunt your dreams, blood spilling onto the ground as he locks you up in a physical cage, corpses scattered around it. Holding the key as he asks you to sing.

You swallow. Your foot rapidly taps on the floor as your mind races with replies you can’t even say. He wasn’t like this in the manhwa. You heard he only got more violent in the novel until a certain point.

That he was still crazy obsessed with Roxana.

And yet, it is that very man who got on one knee, calling himself your dog. And for what? An ounce of affection?

A nervous laugh makes its way out as you attempt to play it off. He’s just tired, he’s lonely, he’s only playing with you until you completely break. This is entertainment for him, but it doesn’t change the fact he still has the keys to your handcuffs. He doesn’t plan on unlocking them.

“O-oh, um, oh my - I-I think… I think th-that yo-you need so-some sleep,” quickly gathering yourself, you stand and walk away once Dion gives you enough room. Of course, he doesn’t do so immediately, his eyes instead becoming glazed over with something dangerous.

He looks at you like you’re his prey, strategies of capturing you happening in real time. The color of his eyes resembles warm blood, and you become uneasy once you realize you could have made him snap just now. There is no visible anger, which should have been a good thing - however, the way he eyes you makes you feel like you’re already between his teeth.

You can feel them piercing your skin already. You rub the side of your neck at the phantom pain.

Taking the opportunity presented, you quickly walk past him. You stop at the door, sweating buckets, twitching fingers almost wrapping around the handle. The reason for your hesitance is simple - his voice. Anxiety picks at you when he calls your name.

You should leave now.

Your lips tremble as you reply. The air around you feels heavy. The room is stifling.

Your husband pauses before he continues. “Whether or not you believe me right now, remember I have no plans of letting you go. But feel free to use me as you wish.”

What is this guy saying!? He’s mental, why can’t he just -

“... have a good nap. You need one.”

He doesn’t give chase when the doors shut behind you. You don’t let yourself lean against it despite the desperate pleas of your unsteady body. The fact he’s in there is enough to move you, scampering away like some bug.

Your heels clack on the tile, footsteps echoing too loudly. The decor is too fancy, too expensive despite it only being hallways. The sound of footsteps is right around the corner and you hold your breath, not knowing who it could be.

Unfortunately, it happened to be one of your in-laws.

“Oh! And here I thought you already broke,” a cute redhead girl snickers, her green eyes gleaming with mirth. Despite her stature, shorter than you and petite build, Charlotte's pale skin seems flushed.

A quick glance at her overall appearance shows leaves in her fluffy hair and specks of blood on the hem of her light green dress that ends a bit below her knees. She didn’t show up much in the manhwa and you don’t know what became of her in the novel - you have to tread carefully.

You give her a small smile. “Oh, Lady Charlotte. I haven’t seen you since the wedding. I hope you have been doing well.” You don’t stutter but your voice wavers. Her head tilts before she smirks.

It resembles Lant’s.

“You’re funny - shouldn’t you be worrying about yourself? It’s only a matter of time until either Dion or Father decides to dispose of you.” Her pearly whites put you on edge when you notice how sharp her canines are. She keeps going as she crosses her arms with a cocky smile.

“But, whenever that happens, maybe I’ll take you in as a toy - as long as you behave, I’ll take good care of you. I’m one of the less violent ones when it comes to obedient toys.”

You give her a flat look that goes over her head.

Yeah right kid…

Unease eats you from the inside out regardless of your inner thoughts. Why is everyone so aggressive? So coy or sadistic? They’re hunters on the prowl, excitement added to their lives as new prey arrives.

If Dion doesn’t sink his teeth into you, they will.

“O-oh…” How am I supposed to respond to that!? Even with your confusion and fear, you still manage a reply. “I’m sure that you’re keen on keeping them… operational.”

The girl raises a brow. “You don’t seem surprised… Wait, do you even know what ‘toys’ are?” She questions as her feet spread a bit further, frustration painting her facial features. Now, why is she getting mad…?

No, rather why is she surprised? You’ve been here long enough to know what they are, unless, of course, she was too dense to consider that possibility. It seems that despite her personality, a child is still a child.

“O-oh, mother-in-law explained the basics to me,” a half lie is told through your teeth. While it’s true Maria had given you the barebone definition - against your will -, you already knew what they were from your previous life. From the manhwa.

She grinds her teeth and stomps her foot. “That’s not fair! I was supposed to be the one who introduced them to you! Not that old hag!”

Oh, she wanted to scare me.

“Oh…” While she’s fuming, you toy with your fingers, unsure how to proceed further. For one, trying to walk past her might anger her more. But staying here quiet might elicit the same response. You were stuck.

She mumbles angrily to herself, voice too low for you to make anything out. You stand there awkwardly, waiting for her temper tantrum to end. She whips her head to look at you again, making you recoil back from the sudden movement. Her glare is sharp and she takes a step towards you only to stop herself.

“Ugh!”

“...” You watch as she turns her back and stomps away without another word. She does look back once, her green eyes full of fury that burns. Seems that you narrowly avoided a missile.

She turns around the corner back from which she came. You remain in place until her footsteps get further and further away. Once no noise is heard, you can finally breathe again. Fixing your posture, you continue on your walk with no destination in mind.

- - -

He had heard news of a guest, but didn’t bring it up with the busy man, instead offering something else. Still, it was odd that the head of the (Last Name) family would keep a guest waiting.

“Father, why don’t we go for a walk?” Zac buzzes around your father like a busy bee, glancing down at the paperwork the older male was filling out. He barely makes out a certain name before the head of the family covers it with his arm, looking at the boy who resembles his wife.

“The weather is nice and perfect for bug catching.”

Your father shakes his head. “Not now, Zachary, I still have a few things left to sign.” Your younger brother frowns at the dark circles underneath the man’s eyes. Too deep and dark. The greying man halts his actions before softening his voice.

“Come back in two hours - we’ll take a walk.” He leaves no room for discussion. Taking it as a small victory, Zac bids him farewell, looking over his shoulder at the once joyous man with bright eyes. He has been reduced to nothing more than an overworked dog.

It’s a pitiful sight.

And yet, your brother still resents your father for giving you away to a brutal family, the head of which is worse than the devil himself. While he understands why he couldn’t say ‘no’, the fact he caved so easily makes him bitter.

The young boy just couldn’t wrap his head around it. One of the reasons for your arranged marriage was a bit obvious after meeting Dion, but the full details are still unknown. And even then, the Agriche denied he was the one who suggested marrying into the family. But only a fool wouldn’t have noticed his stare and how conveniently he had a clear view of you at every gathering, every ball.

They called him paranoid.

‘Hah! And in the end I was… right…’ he kicks the thought out the window.

Try as he might, Your father kept quiet about the full details, distracting Zac with promises of outings and trips to the forest once he’s done.

New lessons that are above his age-range so the boy would study more, harder, leaving no room for him to sate his curiosity, answers needed yet not given. However, your father didn't take into account just how cunning his son was when it came to avoiding the teachers and rushing through the lessons.

He lingers in the hallway after the office door shuts. Across from your father’s office are three small portraits - your sister Elena when she was in her teens, his that was commissioned last year, and yours, taken a month before you turned eighteen.

A small reminder of the person you were before your marriage, bright eyed with a sweet and genuine smile.

‘Oh. So that's why he commissioned it.’

Zac stares at it for a bit longer before he walks away, head high high, a destination in mind. He needs to apologize for his father’s rudeness, after all.

It’s not a long walk, a rather short one to get to the area where they hold guests. A left turn and he’s there, the doors shut as two guards stand outside. He frowns at the challenge that stands between him and his goal.

He needs to talk to that person. He already knows who he is, as he was sent by a certain Agriche every now and then, the man awkward given the situation. He’s not sure why when the doctor isn’t directly involved with the house affairs of Black Agriche and (Last Name). Still, he’s a guest and should be treated as such.

However, it doesn’t change the fact that one who sent him was the very man who watched you from afar. He should have told you and not them. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in that hellhole.

Still, he’s slightly, barely better than the first candidate suggested by Lant. He kicks himself for thinking about his repulsive brother-in-law in any sort of decent light.

Small amounts of anxiety sparks throughout his body. They’re armed, stiff. Considering who it was, it would only make sense to keep him guarded. Or to keep him trapped, rather.

He scoffs, knowing that their visitor wasn’t adapted in combat. Nor was he a trouble maker, always quick to leave once everything was said and done.

He wonders what he came here for.

Still, it’s not like he can stop here. He strolls up to the two men with a boyish grin, calming his beating heart. With a whistle, he greets him as they bow, staying in place. Their swords are in their sheaths, ready to be drawn.

He knows they won’t hurt him, but the nervousness is still there.

“Wow. Now this is interesting - who’s the big shot?” Hands in his pockets, Zac’s eyes gleam with mischief, pretending he doesn’t know who’s on the other side. The guards don’t leave their post.

“Just a visitor, Young Master,” one answers with a glance to the other. They look nervous.

“I can see that,” Zac shrugs, amusement building as the man only makes it look more suspicious. Do they not know how to be subtle?

No. Rather, does he not know how to mind his own business? He imagines you right here, scolding him for involving himself in matters that he’s too young to understand, before you sigh and say how you worry about him.

“But why are there two of you stationed here? Usually it’s one max, unless it’s something dire… not to mention father is still locked away in his office. Are they here for my mother?”

“It’s… complicated. He was promised an audience with the Master at some point, that’s all we know.”

“Then why say it’s complicated?” The man behind that door - he’s the only guest to ever have two guards stand outside the room. Do they think he’s an idiot? No, rather, why are they hiding his identity when the Heir of the (Last Name) family has already met him?

Or maybe his father had decided to leave him out of it. For his own good or whatever else, he doesn’t know.

The other guard takes his shot. “Don’t mind him, Young Master - always wanting to make things mysterious.” An awkward chuckle that’s returned by the other two. Your brother stays.

However, the severnats and guards of this house have always been weak to him - no, to all of the children of (Last Name).

“Speaking of father… he’s been down in the dumps. He’s been cooped up in that stuffy room all day - how inappropriate would it be to rush him?” He tilts his head, (h/c) bangs falling over his eyes. “He needs a break and that guy,” he points at the heavy doors, “shouldn’t be kept waiting - two birds with one stone.”

He’s spewing out whatever. He just wants to see the man, although, it would also be a lie to say he didn’t want his father to take a break. But he uses the visitor against them as well.

After all, that doctor must be so fatigued, traveling so far. “It’s rude to keep him waiting. That’s assuming he’s been here for a while, if not, then I apologize for my impudence.”

The little shit bows as the guards share a look. An uneasy yet guilt ridden furrow of their brows shows he was correct in the visitor waiting for a tad too long. A pause before one responds, only to be interrupted by the youth.

“Of course, it isn’t exactly my place to speak, but…,” his (e/c) eyes shine as he bitterly smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m just worried about them. The guest since he’s been waiting, and my father is still mourning after he gave my sister away… I just want to show her that our father is still taking care of himself and his duties.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s yapping. He’s saying anything that comes to mind now, trial and error proving what’s working and what’s not.

“To be honest, it feels more like she passed away rather than getting married. I don’t want him to become depressed, and I certainly don’t want our guest to think he’s lousy because of his current actions." When he looks up, the guards look more guilty.

It’s funny, seeing how none of this was their fault. He does feel some guilt, but not enough to shut up.

If you were here you would have dragged him away.

“But, if father is too busy, then I wouldn’t mind giving our guest some company - if anything, maybe it’ll show just how much effort I am putting in as the Heir. A guest should never wait for so long.”

The guards share one last look. “Well… just for a bit. We already checked his person and didn’t find anything suspicious or dangerous. And even then, we confiscated all of his belongings.” Now he feels worse, but also entertained - was it really a good idea to let a twelve-year-old in alone with an important guest?

The answer is no, but they let him in anyway. Then again, why wouldn’t they? He’s Zachary (Last Name), the same boy they watch grow up, who might be impish but is on his best behavior when the time comes for it and -

“Thank you for allowing me to keep him company.”

There’s a chance one might leave and report this to your father. There’s also a chance they’ll keep quiet and warn him that his time is up when the appointment time is near.

The door closes behind him and he sees a certain redhead sitting on the lounge chair. He looks stiff, relaxing not in his dictionary. The sound of the creaking doors makes the guest jittery.

Once the guest turns his head, Zac greets him.

“Hello, doctor.”

- - -

“Ack…” shivers crawl down your spine as you hold back a sneeze. The sharp sensation leaves as quickly as it came.

How odd.

The distraction is forgotten as you open a door that leads into an outdoor hallway. You stop in your tracks as you look ahead. A heavy metal door greets you at the other end, but on the wall on the right side are many. Full sets of armor serve as decoration.

Your heart flutters. This is the location where Dion confronted Roxana for the first time.

Roxana with her wet hair that only made her golden locks look more like gentle waves. Roxana, where her green skirt prettily went with her semi-sheer white shirt, the blue and gold necklace that, despite being simple, brings the outfit together. Roxana with her bandaged arm that would be drenched in blood as Dion roughly grabbed it and -

Oh. right. Dion.

The memory of the manhwa along with the undesired events that took place earlier increase your dislike of him. But… Why was he so different here than he was there? Maybe… It's because the main story hasn’t started yet.

Or maybe you’re too tired to think of other possible explanations.

“... I wonder if that door leads into Cassis’ room…” you mumble to yourself, debating if you should just turn around. Truthfully speaking, you were zoned out the entire time, so you don't even know how you got here. Or how to get back.

But do you want to go back? What if Dion’s still in the bedroom - then what? It’s his, so you can’t kick him out. And even if it was yours, you wouldn’t have the guts to do it then, either.

“...” with a sharp breath, you start to walk forwards, slowly like an injured animal, wary of what’s up ahead. With each step comes bubbling anxiety, unaware of where it is that you’re going. Your mind won’t shut up.

Should I keep going?

What if it’s a room meant for toys?

Or worse, I run into someone willing to hurt me?

Maybe I should turn back.

I’m scared.

It feels like hours but it only took minutes, at most, to reach the doors. You grab it by the circular knob and prepare to open it. But your arm freezes.

Your entire body does. The sun is out but you feel cold. Your breathing picks up once you hear one of the doors to the side open, heavy footsteps accompanying the creak. Pure terror and fear starts to rot you from the inside out as you hear a familiar and disgusting voice - you only heard it once, during your wedding. But you never forgot it.

It’s impossible to.

You bite your lip, wishing that this man was already dead. But he’s not, dread crawling down your spine as seconds pass. It’s cold, the feeling that the fiend gives you.

Repressing a violent tremble, your ears bleed as that voice greets you, gruff and low, once annoyed but becomes amused at the sight of you. You may hate and fear your husband, but this man is worse.

“Oh? If it isn’t Dion’s little wife - (Name), right?” Fontaine Agriche snickers out and you shut your eyes while mentally preparing yourself. Your hands shake and legs buck under your weight. Even so, you let go of the door knob to face and greet your in-law with a curtsy, eyes shaking with fear.

Of all the people to run into… Why him?

Your right thumb starts to sting, your bad habit never going away. You ignore it.

Alarm bells always go off with your husband. But sirens are screaming as you stand before Fontaine, trying your best not to let out the scream that’s bubbling in your throat. Your body feels heavy and resists you as you force your head up. Against your wishes, you take in his appearance by habit.

He’s not ugly but dull looking - however, when he eyes you like a piece of meat, you decide that he’s ugly after all. Even Dion doesn’t do that, and it’s an extremely low bar. Doesn’t change the fact that both men are perverted, but, ironically enough, you feel safer with Dion.

You almost scoff at yourself - Dion? Making you feel safe? Maybe pigs are flying in your old world.

This man has images of forced intimacy flashing in your mind. Screams that would be ignored if heard. Forget being locked in a cage - your gut tells you that a worst faith awaits you if you were to ever become too involved with Fontaine. You swallow down bile.

Sweat pools at the nape of your neck. A primal, raw fear and caution kicks at you, more vibrant, stronger than the one you feel with Dion. With him, it feels like imprisonment, but with Fontaine it feels like rape.

You stop yourself from licking your dry lips, from acting too submissively. Your heart hammers against your ribcage painfully, a thud at the back of your head.

You bite your tongue hard enough to almost taste blood. You don’t want to talk to him, but what choice do you have?

Don’t stutter, please, please please.

“Oh, I’m gla-glad that you remember my name, Young Master Fontaine.” You stutter once as your voice wavers and you’re cursing yourself mentally. Showing weakness in front of this man was a mistake - especially when he licks his lips, his eyes focused on your chest.

You resist the urge to recoil in disgust. To be so… apparent with his sexual urges… does he have no shame?

“How could I? After all, you’re a pretty little thing - it wouldn’t make sense for me to not remember your name.” Your eyes travel to the collar of his expensive shirt - specks of blood that stain it. The same goes for his sleeve and even on his cheek, right where his scar is.

You look at the door where he came from. You put two and two together - he must be leaving a toy’s room. Your stomach twists painfully at the realization.

The thought of you becoming his has your blood rushing. You look behind him - how far was the door on the other side?

It feels like something is tugging at your feet, making your movements sluggish. You push through the pressure that threatens to drown you.

“I’m… flattered, but I’m not sure how my husband would react to that,” you gulp when his smile twitches into a scowl at the mention of his accursed brother. However, he quickly breaks into a grin with a quick glance around the area. He sees that you’re alone.

That fact makes panic rise deep inside your chest. Your gut is telling you to run.

“Come now, it’s not like I'm crossing any boundaries. I’m sure Dion would understand where I’m coming from.” He takes a step towards you, gauging how close he should get. You need to end this encounter, your gut screams.

Your legs twitch and you hold yourself back from walking past him. You also hold back from kicking him in the groin, the one area that would have him double over in pain. The thought is tempting when you can barely listen to rationality.

“That’s… interesting. How about we go ask him real quick? I just left our room not too long ago.” Your smile looks warm to the grey-eyed man, but the corners of your lips threaten to slip. It’s painful to keep the facade.

Your brother-in-law takes another step towards you. His grin widens once he sees the hint of fear in your eyes. His confidence nearly makes you gag.

“You just left? And he didn’t accompany you?” He smells like blood, fresh and raw. A primal look of lust is in his eyes, and when his gaze sticks to the base of your neck, you feel like throwing up. He hums in thought.

Is he really… lusting after me, his sister-in-law!? Wait, considering he wanted Roxana in the manhwa, it’s… still disgusting.

Your voice catches in your throat, so he talks for you. “If it were me,” he starts as he backs you against the doors, “I wouldn’t have left you alone in this maze of a mansion.” One of his hands presses against the metal near your waist. Ever so slowly, it moves from the door and to your waist, teasing the fabric of your dress before he fully grabs you. You glance at it before looking back at his face, stomach churning and faith dwindling further.

You need to get out of here.

“O-oh… Lady Roxana!? I didn’t expect to see you here!”

Fooled by your warm smile and excited voice, Fontaine looks behind him, only to see no-one. While he’s distracted by your lie, you quickly stomped on his foot using the heel of your shoe. Your reflexes have chosen both flight and fight.

He howls in pain, bringing his foot up enough to hold it.

“Y-you bitch -”

“Sorry, I have to go!”

Taking this opportunity, you run past him, faster than you ever have. It was like you weren’t even wearing heels, barely able to open the door as his hands grasp at your skirt, the man recovering from the surprise attack. You gasp when gets a hold, and since he was so focused on getting you, he was too cocky and pissed to notice your elbow flying to his throat.

“G-gah!” He gasps for air and in pain, saliva dribbling down his chin. You don’t look back as the door shuts behind you.

CLACK, CLACK, CLACK

Your lungs scream for air, a sharp pain in your feet as your legs beg for rest. You don’t listen to them, running down the hallway like a mad woman. It’s a ghost town and that makes you fear for your safety even more - no eyes to watch him. No-one to report him to Dion, if they bother to.

But a small part of your mind suggests that maybe this could be a good thing. For one, you don’t know how Lant would react if he were to find out that you injured his first born once it gets reported to him. Not only that, but if it’s a low ranked servant or guard, no-one would fight against him, and even if they did stand up to him, he could and would easily kill them.

He’s strong enough to do so.

He has the authority to get away with it.

Then, another thought hits you - what if none of the siblings know about Dion’s obsession over you? That he would willingly punish them if they get too close - or, at least you assume so. Regardless, most would stay far away from you if they ever learn he favors you.

After all, who would try their luck with the most brutal Agriche? The favorite son, the most skilled in hand-to-hand combat and sword fighting - it would be a death wish. Only a fool would try to take what’s his.

Your lungs start to burn. Air is harder to take in, and you have to force your legs to keep going. You have to. Getting caught by your even more perverted brother-in-law is not an option.

You’re starting to regret leaving the bedroom.

“Hah, hah, oh fuck, it hurts,” you pant, your speed decreasing. You push through the smothering pain until you reach a dead end - two doors on each wall. You try the left, rattling the doorknob, only to find that it’s locked. You try the other and it opens, but in your panic, you open it too quickly, falling into the room, twisting your left ankle in the process.

“Where the hell is she!?” He’s not near you but he screams so loud it echoes off the walls.

At Fontaine’s yelling, you crawl into the room, wincing as it shuts close louder than it should.

You can’t hear him anymore. Your lungs work overtime to take in air, on fire despite resting. Drool hangs from your mouth directly as you hang your head. On your knees, you start to dry heave, slamming a hand over your mouth to prevent you from throwing up and to muffle any noise.

Your left ankle starts to sting almost unbearably. It feels like needles are being stabbed into it, sharp and pointed. Slowly, your gaze travels to it as you move your dress away from the area. You can’t stop yourself from scoffing at your horrible luck, the swelling already forming.

“Hah. I just sprained it…” ironic that you ran for your safety only to hurt yourself in the process. The pain distracts you from the events that just transpired, running away from Fontatine. Your fingers curl as fists form on the floor.

The tile is nice and cold. But it doesn’t help much with the forming tears and swollen ankle. You want to cry, a tight pressure in both your eyes and temples. A scream is on the verge of being released but you hold it back by biting your lip.

You taste blood and feel something warm leaking from your lip. The metallic flavor overrides the sour and bitter vomit that was stored in your gums and mouth.

The tears fall easily. Too hot. Too wet. A sob rips itself out of your throat, chest trembling with the action.

You freeze when you hear a woman’s voice.

“Oh? What happened here?” A chair scrapes across the floor, soft steps that stop right next to you. Brown heeled boots enter your vision as your head is too heavy to lift.

The skirt of her dress is a light green, ending right above her feet. She gets on her knees, her dress giving her a thin padding on the floor. One last shaky breath before you manage to lift your head, meeting soft red eyes - softer than Roxana’s, not as bright as your husband’s. Brown hair that ends at her upper back, straight and her bangs on either side that exposes most of her face.

Her eyes have a brown tint, curiosity in them rather than worry.

Grizelda Agriche.

= = =

So, how’s Zac guys? Everything will make sense. Eventually (I am crying). My pacing is horrible.

Tag list: @umi-adxhira @queenofspades403 @pix-stuff @manitscold @tiny-mimi @cjafjatkstke @louissatturi @disappointment-san @s-ajia @darkumbreon92 @rentaldarling @puggyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee @labryel

#yandere x reader #twtptflob x reader #dion agriche #dion agriche x reader #yandere dion agriche #deon agrece #yandere dion agriche x reader #yandere twtptflob #yandere the way to protect the female leads older brother #male yandere

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ntaras · 1 year ago

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i’m going to kill everyone on the internet

#the things people are trying to bring up to prove bihan as ‘evil’ are not even the right things to bring up #talk about the cyber initiative and how he was inspired by the idea of the dragon army being so one minded in battle and unable to work #without each other in order to show overwhelming and soulless power #talk about how he's so blindsided by his own ambitions that he cannot see anything wrong with himself #talk about how his role of being the eldest sibling and the grandmaster gave the mindset that he must be the only one right and his brothers #must be the ones wrong cause he has to be one who knows more and knows best #i fucking hate talking about whether a character is good or evil less of that more and more of just. looking at a character and #understanding who they are outside of the barriers of good and evil #also i already had this dumb meltdown over the rock i did not genuinly think people would be asking this question #an another note. the answer is no but the answer is also yes because it’s really fucking funny to try and kill your sibling by just kicking #a rock over the edge and letting it hit their head #it reminds me of when me and my sister were walking up like over a hundred steps of a cathedral and she asked be to wait cause she was #out of breath and i was really tempted to just start sprinting up the stairs and leave her behind #talking;

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tonycries · 8 months ago

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The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.

Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)

A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.

“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”

“Duh, I know everything.”

“Nuh uh, Toru.”

“Yuh uh!”

The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school.

Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.

A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.

You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.

Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-

Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:

Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt.

Never mess with you. Anyone but you.

Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.

Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.

And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.

Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second.

Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”

“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”

You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”

“...you would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would- Sugu–!”

And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”

He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.

With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”

Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”

You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team.

And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile.

Everything.

Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else.

“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.

Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”

Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all.

If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.

Just a friend comforting a friend, right?

So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.

Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.

That night ended with a second kiss.

You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you.

Everything.

But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”

And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio.

He learns another two things that night:

Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you.

He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.

It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.

Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.

According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.

“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”

God, what a way to start the year.

Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”

And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries.

“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”

“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”

“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”

And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments.

But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”

You knew.

You’d kissed him back.

“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”

You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister.

The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.

But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”

“Where?”

At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good.

“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up.

Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”

Close - too close. So dangerously close.

He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”

“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by.

And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling.

“I’m a dead man, Shoko.”

There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.

Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”

Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.

Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine.

And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics.

His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.

Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked.

Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss.

He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door.

“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”

You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that.

Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for.

Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”

As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.

“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth.

So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours.

Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes.

“Toru, I have a date.”

The fourth kiss.

Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”

And the last.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship.

He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious.

What did he have that Satoru didn’t?

The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his.

You, that loser had you.

“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”

“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-

“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”

And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-

SLAM!

Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.”

And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom.

“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye.

Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”

Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”

“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”

And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”

Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn.

“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”

Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”

And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy.

Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.

His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”

Oh.

Shit.

“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”

And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”

“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”

“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”

“...”

Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank.

Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.

But you don’t.

Fuck.

And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.”

He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now.

“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?”

And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.”

“Oh.”

Then the movie is unpaused.

---

The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today.

The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.

Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway.

The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.

“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-

Ding!

Ah, there.

You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…

Satoru.

Speaking a mile a minute.

Satoru.

“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”

“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms.

What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life.

But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned.

Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.

It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.

Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.

“You loser.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-

That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”

“Huh?”

You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.”

Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”

“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you.

Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt.

“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”

“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you.

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.

“Toru!”

“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”

And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”

“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”

It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist.

And it’s sloppy.

Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.

“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”

It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”

The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.

“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”

A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.

And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?”

Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.

You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.

And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.

“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?”

“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”

So goading. So like you.

At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”

Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so.

“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”

And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-

“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots.

“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”

He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually.

But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit.

“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”

It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?

“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene.

“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?”

You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully.

“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out.

Like you were about to snap. Any second now.

But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…” Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”

You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt.

You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.

Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours.

“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”

And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”

It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection.

And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous.

“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.”

And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.”

He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”

Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.

At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.”

He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch.

“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”

And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”

“You have no idea.”

That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag.

Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.”

And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact.

“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”

“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.

Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-

“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”

And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps.

Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling.

“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-”

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.

Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”

You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-”

He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll.

“That’s more like it.”

You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.

Deep. Ruthless.

“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”

You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”

But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.

“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”

“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”

You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt.

He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.”

Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”

“Still not convinced.”

But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”

“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”

“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.

Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.

And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white.

Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.

“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.

“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”

Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.

“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”

“Well, only one way to find out~”

“Oh shut up you-”

SLAM!

“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”

There were only two more lessons to be learned:

Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family.

Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.

A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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nezuscribe · 3 months ago

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you’re glad to have a friend like arranged!gojo, it feels good to have somebody to talk to and listen to. you feel nice being able to laugh with somebody and not apologize for the awful jokes or strange things you say. but sometimes you have to stop yourself from getting attached, reminding yourself that he won’t care for you like that.

and though that’s the farthest from the truth, it’s what you’ve convinced yourself. so when your birthday comes around, you decide to celebrate the way you always have, alone.

he’s your friend, not a husband, so you don’t see any need in dragging him into this ordeal.

you bake a little cake for yourself a couple day in advance, just like you used to at your old home. you stash it away for when night rolls around and it’s just yourself, you can enjoy it the way you have for years.

when you were little you would gawk and stare at the lavish parties your father and his wife threw for your sisters, the balls and the presents growing bigger and bigger the more they grew up. you’d mimic their behaviors on your own, dressing up in the best dress you had (a hand me downs from your older sister that never fit quite right) and pretended you too were surrounded by a room of people as they watched you eat cake.

and sure, when you were younger you’d feel embarrassed eating by yourself surrounded by drawings of people you’d prop up on chairs, but it’s become tradition now (not the drawings, you realize now how depressing that must’ve looked).

so the night of your birthday you take the cake you had hidden in the back of the ice den out, bringing it to the corner of the kitchens where the cooks kept the little table for themselves and began cutting into it, cursing yourself for freezing it too long.

you serve yourself a piece, hunching over your plate as you dug in with your fork, eating in silence.

you write a little note for the cooks to enjoy the rest of it as you place it back in the den once you were done, going back to your room for the night.

the following day when you were walking around the library looking for something new you spot gojo talking to one of his advisors, his eyes focused and his tilted slightly as he gave him all of his attention.

you pause, holding back until you were sure they were done with their conversation to reveal yourself from behind one of the looming bookshelves, watching as the advisor bowed his head to you before he left.

the crease between his eyebrows relaxes, his eyes softening when you waved at him, your smile gleaming.

“i didn’t see you for breakfast,” he tells you as he walks over to where you were standing, pushing some of his hair back as you grin apologetically.

“i slept in,” you admit sheepishly, tired from last night as you play with your fingers, “i also might’ve been a little snippy with alina when she tried to wake me up.”

gojo snorts, absentmindedly pulling some books out and putting them back in as he rests his side on the wall of binded pages.

“baking?” he asks simply, knowing you well enough to know that the only reason you’d miss breakfast would be because you spent the majority of the night in the kitchens.

“how’d you know?” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest as he tsks, his fingers picking some stray leaves from your head from earlier when you were walking through the gardens.

“i help whisk the butter and sugar when you don’t feel like it. i don’t know why you keep me out of the kitchens,” he murmurs petulantly and you chuckle a little bit, rolling your eyes at his antics.

“it’s for your own sake,” you tell him, a glimmer in your eyes that he’d chase around the world the see, “and besides, i wasn’t baking. i was enjoying the fruits of my previous labor.”

gojo squints a little bit, confused. usually you eat what you make the night of, sometimes bringing a plate by his room if it’s not too late.

“when else did you bake this week without me?” he asks, trying to mask his hurt with a playful grin, trying to recall the times he heard back from one of his guards that you were down in the kitchens.

“only a few days ago, when i trying to assemble the cake.” you say with a shrug. his mouth opens in shock, a pout on his lips as he averts your gaze.

“you had cake? without me?” he almost whines it out and you shove his boot with the point of your shoe, trying to calm him down.

who would’ve thought the most fearsome warrior of the north, hell, the entire kingdom, would have such a sweet-tooth?

“it was small,” you try to reason, “and you wouldn’t have liked the flavors. it’s a recipe from the west.”

gojo groans, stepping closer to you as he gently flick your nose, watching the way you’d scrunch it up in annoyance.

“but you know i love cake,” he murmurs, “and you said you’d only bake it for birthdays…you lied to me,” his pink lips pull into a pout, one that you want to kiss off his gorgeous face, and control yourself from letting the heat get too much in your cheeks.

“well,” you quirk a brow, “if it helps, it was for a birthday.”

gojo looks up from the ground, brows furrowed once again in confusion.

“mine?” he says a little hopefully, as if it was anywhere near his birthday.

you snort, shaking your head as your finger pokes itself in your chest.

“mine…you idiot,” you mutter under your breath, wondering how somebody how his caliber could be so daft.

but he doesn’t seem to find it funny, in fact, his brows seem to meet in the middle, the pout gone form his lips as he frowns.

“what do you mean yours? your birthday isn’t for…? isn’t it in…?” he tries to think, think back to when your birthday was, only to realize he didn’t know, to realize he’d never asked you about it, always assuming it’d be something told to him.

“it’s nothing big,” you try to say quickly to cover up the awkwardness, “i usually just make myself a cake and get it over with.” you say with a chuckle but he’s not finding anything about this humorous.

great, you think bitterly to yourself, said something else and fucked it up. you wince, wishing you’d just stayed quite.

“your birthday was yesterday?” gojo asks, his voice hushed and heavy. he looks like he cares, he looks sad. you find it unnerving.

“i,” you laugh uncomfortably, fidgeting with your ring as you swallow thickly, “i think so...? i eyeball the day every year.”

truth be told you done really know what day you were born. your father never remembered the exact date seeing how the nature of his relationship with your mother was so secretive, and nobody ever found the true date out. so usually you find a date each year that you think matches with what time season you were born with and go with that.

gojo feels like his heart has slowed, watching the way you shrink into yourself the way he notices you’d i when you feel like you’ve done something wrong.

“eyeball?” he bites out and you wince at his tone, and he wishes he could take it back and start over again without the bite of a general in his words.

“look gojo it’s nothing, really,” you insist, waving him off as you try to escape, shifting around so you were closer to the doorway, “it’s just a day, it’s nothing important,” you tell him reassuringly.

but he doesn’t believe you, running a hand down his face as he pinches at the bridge of your nose.

“why do you write these things off as if they’re not important?” his voice is deep, echoing around the walls of the vast library as your hold your breath, “why don’t you-”

“because it’s not important,” you say again, your voice a little bit harsher, “it’s just a day.”

his eyes drown in blue, dark and wavering like the shoreline.

“then why bake a cake?” he snaps, not in anger but in genuine questioning, and your face falls a little.

maybe because years ago you thought it was something important. maybe because you want that little girl to feel like she matters.

he gapes, knowing he said something wrong, but can’t speak.

“i…” you open your mouth then close it again, looking away from him as you shrug, “i have to go, i - um, shoko asked for me.” you lie lamely, not caring as you bow your head down slightly to him before you briskly leave.

and maybe if you turned back you could see the way his face fell too.

but with all the maybes you’ve told yourself no to, you’ve grown accustomed to the belief that every maybe wouldn’t have a chance of becoming something.

because maybe if you had actually told him the truth when you wanted to a couple days ago, that you’d like to celebrate with him, he wouldn’t shut you down the way you’d imagined he would and maybe he would’ve said yes.

but for now you convince yourself that this man is a friend who pretends like he cares. because never once have you heard of a man caring so deeply for somebody that he’d shed a tear over the fact that you’d celebrate your birthday alone. but then again, you’ve never met a man like gojo before.

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader angst #gojo x you #gojo drabble #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk drabble #satoru x reader #jjk x you #arranged!gojo

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thepitlanepress · 1 month ago

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WE'RE FAMILY, ME AND YOU –

↳ oscar piastri + gf!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: osc being protectiveeee . also he is so fine in that pic. warnings for offhanded comments abt weight and shit like that (if anyone irl is like this towards you i'll personally fight them). idk if this is gonna be super good bc i think my brain stopped working near the end lol but other wise enjoyyy

"please don't hold my horrible family against me, oscar," you say when he pulls into the driveway of your childhood home, the warm lights blaring inside.

"baby, we've been dating for two years, and i've met your family before," oscar smiles picking you hand up and gently squeezing it.

"i know but seriously, they're going to be awful," you groan softly falling back in your seat. "i don't want to do this."

"we'll do it together okay?"

"okay."

the first comment came a few moments after you walked inside: "oh its so good to see you oscar!" your mother and grandmother both come rushing out to greet you.

"and my darling daughter," your mother smiles and gives you a small hug, before pulling back and eyeing you up and down. "you chose quite the dress wow, you can see everything. you'd would almost think it was too small."

you laugh along with the "joke" and only relax slightly when you feel oscar's hand slip into your own, reminding you he's there.

you continue on through the house as your grandma gives oscar a tour, even though he was here about two months ago and literally nothing has changed.

he's polite, and nods along with whatever nonsense spiel she's giving him about a vase that apparently was her great great grandmothers - when you know for a fact she bought it a week ago because she sent your sister an incessant amount of texts about it in the family group chat.

the one you're clearly not apart of.

when you make it to the lounge room, you instantly sit down on the couch pulling oscar down with you, wanting this night to be finished with already. your grandmother enters the room with a platter of snacks, smiling as she puts it down, "now don't eat too much of this sweetie or you won't have room for dinner, or anymore room in that dress."

you don't notice is but oscars demeanour changes then.

he pulls you closer to his side and has one arm tightly wrapped around your waist as he takes a few crackers slipping every second one to you. he leans down whispers in your ear. "eat, i know you haven't today, fuck what linda says."

you smile and slightly relax more into the conversation, especially when your grandad and dad enter the room. both are overjoyed you're here, instantly stealing your boyfriends focus and talking to him about racing and the latest car that your dad bought and wants to fix up.

you were having a slightly better time, well until:

"pumpkin, leave poor oscar alone, you're practically on top of him!" you mother fusses, and you internally flinch at that dumb nickname.

"i wouldn't mind if she were on top of me," oscar mutters and you choke slapping him on the chest as he smirks. it brings a smile to your face the first one of today.

your dad clearly having heard what was said becomes all red and flustered clearing his throat and announcing dinner is ready, while struggling to hide a smile.

–––

dinner is your least favorite moment of the night. from the comments, to the "mothers" purposely pushing plates away from you. oscar notices and instead puts food on his plate and then switches it with yours.

which leads to them tsk-ing about how he needs to eat more and let you choose what you eat.

and you do what any good daughter would do when your mother looks at you and nudges the salad in front of your plate and says, "make sure you eat your salad, pumpkin," you shove it down and paste a smile on your face.

oscar sees it.

"how is work lately, oscar?" your grandmother asks smiling at him, before nudging him in the side with her elbow, "you're doing better than, pumpkin over there i tell you."

shove it down.

oscars hand lands softly on your thigh, silent support in the only way he can right now. you smile softly at him and he winks at you a small smile appearing across his face.

"oh enough you, we don't need all this while eating dinner, well while we eat dinner, you don't really need to," your mother sniffs. you struggle to push this one down and excuse yourself from the table. "i'm sorry oscar, that she wasn't letting you breathe. she needs to learn to give you some space. so clingy that girl."

"i'm breathing perfectly fine," oscar answers entering the conversation his voice calm but strong. "and quite frankly mindy, i think you need to lay off with the comments, i'm fine, your daughters fine, we're all fine, so stop with the snarky comments and the petty bitchy notions. because quite frankly, thats how you're acting, like a bitch."

he shoots a look to your grandmother, "and you too linda, don't go around pretending you're all high and mighty with your "everyone is amazing and i love my family" act, when you can't even treat your own granddaughter right. you two should be ashamed of yourselves. do better. all of you- well except you darren and mike i like you guys."

with that he pushes his chair out and goes to find you, knocking on the bathroom door, but not hearing a response. "sweetheart? you in there?" after a few more moments of silence he enters the room - you're not in there obviously, the window is open and he can hear the car running outside.

he leaves the house without saying goodbye to anyone and just gets in the car with you puts it in reverse and leaves.

you're both quiet for a few moments before you whisper, "i'm sorry for running out."

"no," oscars voice is firm. "don't you ever apologise for that, those women are bitches in a snake skin and they do not deserve your time and attention." he pulls off on the side of the road, cars driving past the only sound that fills the space in the quiet. "don't you ever apologise for being a beautiful, perfect person. don't you ever apologise for being you. because you are perfect."

he takes your face gently in his hands and softly kisses your nose. "you are the most amazing human being ever and i'm glad my heart belongs to you, those pathetic women back there can't see your beauty or your talented-ness or your smarts - you're a race engineer for gods sake - and thats on them." he presses a kiss to both of your cheeks.

"you are my sweetheart, my gorgeous best friend, my everything. and i love you baby," he whispers kindly before pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. "we're a family me and you, we don't need those fuckers back there," he winks.

you giggle and whisper back, "i love you too."

a quiet moment falls over top of you both as you just rest your foreheads pressed against each other.

"takeout?"

"let's go."

2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments and reblogs appreciated

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dark-fics-4-you · 4 months ago

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Angel

dark!stepbro!Rafe Cameron x f!Reader

Warnings: noncon (rape), somno, incest (step siblings), loss of virginity, unprotected sex, unwanted creampie, drugs, drinking, possessive behavior, controlling behavior, mentions of previous male masturbation

A/N: in my mind, Rafe is like 2-3 years older than Reader (everyone is 18+ and college aged)

Rafe’s knuckles were turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. The speedometer was flirting with triple digits but his eyes still flicked back and forth between you and the road.

He should have known better, he did know better, and still he let you walk out of the house wearing that sad excuse of an angel “costume.” In reality it was just tiny white ruffle shorts paired with a white corset along with angel wings and a halo top headband.

Any other night if you had tried to walk out the door in lingerie in front of your step brother, he would have told you to change, but because it was halloween, and seeing you dressed up like that made him so hard he couldn’t think straight, of course he had said ‘yes’ knowing he’d be walking into the party with the hottest girl on the island on his arm.

What he hadn’t anticipated however, was the number of guys (especially his friends) who had the balls to flirt with his little step sister right in front of him.

Even Topper and Kelce had been eyeing you differently and it pissed Rafe off to no end.

You followed him to the kitchen where he grabbed drinks for both of you and he tried to ignore the eyes that were raking up and down your exposed body.

“Are any of your friends here yet?” He asked as he passed your drink to you.

“I don’t think so,” you answered, fishing your phone out of your purse to check your texts.

He hadn’t planned on letting you out of his sight, much less 5 feet from his side, but when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder, he spun around to see a blond girl in a Tinkerbell costume.

“Are you one of Topper’s friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Hi, I’m Tiffany,” she flashed a smile as she drank him in with her eyes.

“Rafe.” He responded dryly, taking a swig from his solo cup.

“What’s your costume supposed to be?” Her voice annoyed Rafe and he looked down at his blue jumpsuit for a second to remind himself before answering.

“Cornelius Snow, I think? Um, from the Hunger Games? I don’t know, it was Y/N’s idea.” He mumbled, looking past the girl to check on you, but when he realized you were no longer standing beside him, or even in the same room, he quickly brushed past her without a word.

Luckily you didn’t travel too far, but Rafe’s relief upon finding you was short lived.

Two kook guys were standing next to you, practically eating you with their eyes, and sweet, oblivious you were none the wiser.

“I love your costume,” one said.

“You look fantastic tonight.”

“Aw thanks!” You beamed.

“Looks like your cup is getting empty, you want me to grab you a refill?”

“If you don’t mind-” you had begun handing your solo cup to the guy but you stopped yourself when Rafe appeared to your right, snatching the cup out of your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist possessively.

“It’s okay, I can take care of her,” he snapped at the two guys, shooting a deadly glare at them as he led you away.

“Rafe, what was that about?” You complained, completely confused by his behavior.

“Are you stupid or something, Y/N? Because I just watched you try to hand your drink over to two complete strangers at a fucking frat party.”

“They were just being nice-”

“They could have been trying to drug you for all you know,” Rafe chided you sternly and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was talking to you like you were a little kid. “Rose put me in charge of taking care of you tonight, and you’re not exactly making it easy on me by disappearing without a word and accepting drinks from frat brothers.”

The two of you arrived at the kitchen and you silently handed your cup to him to refill your drink.

“Just… be careful, Y/N/N, okay?” You had turned away from him and he couldn’t help but eye the way your corset showed off your perfect tits, and he dryly swallowed, hoping that his hard on wasn’t too obvious.

You turned to look at him, sighing like you were annoyed, but you nodded your head as you grabbed the drink from him, “I know, Rafey, I know.”

“Where are your friends at?”

“They should be here by now, but I haven’t seen them just yet.” You looked around the room you were in, still not finding them. “I need to pee, where’s the bathroom?”

He took your drink, pointing towards the hallway where the restrooms were.

“Come right back here, okay?”

“Mm ‘kay,” you responded, heading to the bathroom.

Rafe didn’t want to be so worried about you, he didn’t want to be so over-protective, but he couldn’t help how possessive he felt over you, and the thought of any other man talking to you, much less touching you, was enough to have Rafe itching to grab a gun.

He hadn’t realized how long it had been until he checked the time and realized you had been gone for almost 10 minutes, which seemed unusual.

Rafe went to the bathroom, knocking on the door only to find that it was empty.

He cursed under his breath, angry that you had snuck away from him again, and he closed the door behind him as he anxiously pulled out his small bag of coke, using his key to bring a bump to his nostril.

Shit like this was the reason he did so much blow.

Rafe left, slamming the door before turning to look throughout the large house party.

You weren’t in the first crowded room that he checked, or the second, or the third; and by the time Rafe finally found you with Topper, watching him set up a line for you before handing you a rolled up dollar bill, he was seeing red.

He watched as you leaned over the table and sniffed the white powder into your nose, his knuckles curling into fists when Topper draped one arm over your shoulders.

When you looked up and locked eyes with him, your face dropped in an instant.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?”

“Rafe-” Topper jumped in his seat, removing his arm as his face turned red when he realized how pissed off Rafe really was.

“Shut the fuck up, Top.” He snapped, never taking his burning gaze off of you. “What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?”

“I- Top was just showing me how to…”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, you’re done. Party’s over.” Your step brother stalked closer, wrapping his hand around your arm and harshly yanking you up off the couch.

“Rafe, you can’t be serious, you do it all the time!” You protested, trying to pull against his tight grip as he forced you through the house and toward the front door.

“I said, no. We’re going home. Now.” His voice was practically shaking with rage at this point, the effects of the bump he took in the bathroom settling in.

“You’re being so unfair! My friends aren’t even here yet!” Your voice slurred and Rafe realized how drunk you were.

“Did you have another drink?”

“Topper made me one,” you answered, and now Rafe really wanted to kill him.

What the fuck was he thinking getting his little sister drunk and giving you coke? Apparently Sarah wasn’t enough for him, he wanted another Cameron sister as well.

He could have Sarah for all Rafe cared, but you were his.

“Are you even sober enough to drive?”

“Yes,” he snipped, pulling open the passenger door of his truck and roughly pushing you in before loudly slamming it shut.

The drive back to your house was filled with a tense silence, and you were too drunk to realize just how fast Rafe was driving.

Rafe just stewed in his anger and frustration, equally pissed off at you and all of the jackasses who had been hitting on you.

Especially fucking Topper.

He should have known better.

Rafe pulled into the driveway, mentally preparing himself for the explanation he was going to have to give Rose if she was still awake, but when he glanced over at your seat, you were fast asleep. He sighed, partly in relief that he wouldn’t have to explain himself, but also frustrated that he couldn’t chew you out more.

He got out of the truck, coming around to your side to scoop you into his arms and carry you inside. Rafe cradled you in his arms, careful not to wake you as he brought you up the stairs and to your room, closing the door before softly laying you onto your bed.

Rafe leaned over, his fingers found the straps of your shoes, undoing them before pulling your heels off your feet and laying them onto the floor, where he took off his own boots as well.

When he turned his attention back to you, you looked so peaceful and beautiful it made his cock throb and Rafe suppressed a groan as he brushed a stray hair out of your eyes.

His gaze landed on your soft lips, and before he could stop himself, before he even knew what he was doing, really, Rafe leaned down, pressing his lips to yours for the very first time.

Rafe’s hand came to your face, softly stroking your cheek as his lips moved against yours. You tasted like alcoholic punch and cherry lip gloss, and Rafe could feel his hard on straining against the material of his jumpsuit.

He pulled away, head spinning as he mindlessly unzipped the top of his jumpsuit, pushing the fabric off his shoulders before reaching for the zipper on his pants.

All he could think about were all of the frat guys at the party eyeing you like you were a piece of meat they couldn’t wait to sink their teeth into. Like you were some prize to be won.

At the same time, the thought of someone else being your first ignited a blind rage inside of Rafe, one that festered in his brain and mutated into an ugly, twisted desire.

He wasn’t going to let his sweet angel of a step sister get taken advantage of or corrupted by any of the awful guys on the island, kooks or pogues.

If anyone was going to be your first, it was going to be him.

Rafe looked down, surprised when he realized he had been leaning over your sleeping form, pumping his hard cock with his hand.

He stopped himself for a moment, afraid that you might wake up, but you barely stirred, too deep in sleep to register your older step brother leering over you.

The blond took a shaky breath as he reached out towards your hips, his fingers brushing along the soft material of your shorts before finding the waistband and slowly pulling them down your legs.

“Fuck,” he softly groaned as he took in your matching white, lacy panties beneath.

Admittedly, Rafe was no stranger to going through your underwear drawer and stealing a pair of your underwear to jack off into as he fantasized about hate fucking you every time you did something to piss him off.

These were unfamiliar to him. You must have bought them just for halloween, he thought, a new wave of possessive jealousy coursing through him.

Were you seriously thinking about fucking someone tonight? Maybe your friends were never even coming to the party, and it was all a ploy for you to slip away from Rafe and hook up with some asshole.

Rafe’s large hands came to your hips, grabbing your panties and yanking them down your legs. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest he was afraid you might hear it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He had to know how good you felt, he had to make sure he was your first.

He guided himself to your core, cursing under his breath as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your messy slit. You already felt so wet, he barely had to touch you, and he wondered if there was some part of you that subconsciously knew what was going on, that wanted this to happen.

His hands found the back of your thighs, spreading your legs further apart so he could get closer to you.

When he rubbed his cock against your clit, you squirmed a bit and a soft hum that sounded suspiciously like a moan fell past your lips.

He felt his cock twitch, aching to fill you up, and Rafe finally lined himself up with your slick lips before planting his arms beside your waist and pushing his leaking tip inside of you.

You felt so warm and tight, and the feel of your silky walls squeezing around the head of his cock was better than anything he could have possibly imagined. He slowly began moving, not going any deeper, but just creating a friction that made his jaw clench as he held back groans.

“Shit, Y/N,” he whispered, leaning over to press his feverish lips to yours again, the feeling of your cunt pulling him in making him feel dizzy.

He hadn’t intended to go any further, that’s what he told himself. He thought if he just got a taste, he could be satisfied and he could wait until later to have all of you.

But when his eyes flicked down to where your bodies connected, he was surprised to find half of his length disappearing into you.

You whimpered in your sleep as your walls pulsed around him, distracting him from his moral quandaries. Rafe reached a hand to your chest, cupping one of your tits over your corset as his pace slowly increased.

“God you’re fucking perfect,” Rafe murmured, his lips finding yours again. All the while, he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside you until his tip kissed your cervix.

Far too gone to turn back now, and spurred on by your soft whimpers and gasps, Rafe’s hips were snapping against yours faster now, channeling his frustrations into punishing you for the way you acted tonight.

You wanted to lose your virginity so badly? Fine, Rafe thought, he would take it from you to insure he would be your first and only.

He knew it was wrong, god, it was sick how deeply he needed to ruin you for daring to disobey him. Rafe was well aware that he crossing every boundary in the world, that you would hate that he had robbed you of this experience if you ever found out; but maybe that’s why he was so painfully hard as he rutted into you over and over.

And imagining sitting across from you at the dinner table, knowing that his sweet, innocent sister would have no idea that her older step brother was her first was almost enough to make him cum.

But the thing that really sent him over the edge, what had him spilling himself deep inside you and filling your walls with his hot, sticky cum, was your soft, angelic voice moaning his name in your sleep.

#dark!rafe cameron #stepbro!rafe cameron #rafe cameron somno #stepbro!rafe cameron x reader #stepbro!rafe #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!stepbro!rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron noncon #dark rafe cameron #dark!stepbro!rafe #angel

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rafesweetie · 3 months ago

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⋆˚࿔ espresso ꥟ ˚⋆ — sunny!reader x rafe

“ walked in and dream-came-trued for ya! “

i believe the saying goes, “she was like a shot of espresso.” rafe didn’t think that saying could fit a person more than it could fit you.

he’d see you at parties, dancing with his sister or giggling with the pogues. you never could seem to pick a side. this whole pogue vs kook rivalry never crossed your mind, for you were simply friends with everyone in kildare. he’d see you at the beach with your friends, tanning while listening to silly pop music and sipping on a fruity canned drink. you reminded him of the sun.

there was one night where sarah cameron invited you to her place for a start-of-summer party. rafe was dealing some coke, as per usual, and his eyes followed you as you walked in, holding hands with sarah while she led you inside. he’d never understood why girls held hands with each other, but wheezie said that it’s a universal girl thing, and he ‘would never get it.’

topper elbowed rafe out of his trance, laughing about how rafe had a little crush.

“nah, nah,” rafe denied instantly. “isn’t she a pogue?”

topper shakes his head. “nope. she just hangs out with them. her parents own that flashy smoothie shop, she’s a kook,”

“…oh, that’s good,” rafe mutters. he can’t quite avert his gaze from you.

“aw man, you’re desperate,” kelce is on his other side, patting his back, making rafe grunt and shoo him off. rafe can’t relate to desperation.

his night goes on per usual, getting bundles of cash handed to him as he deals. until topper speaks up after a bit. “she just broke up with pope,” he informs rafe. “she’s on the market,”

“yeah?” rafe checks.

“yeah. you should go talk to her,”

rafe hesitates, staring at you again. you’re not a dancer by any means, but both you and sarah are wiggling your shoulders a bit when a good song comes up. rafe would assume you’re drunk, the way your giggles echo through the room and the way you spill your drink when you stumble into sarah. but he thinks that’s just you, drunk on life. he eventually speaks. “no fucking way, she’s with my sister right now. sarah would lose her shit if i talked to little miss sunshine over there,”

“yeah, well, need i remind you i’m dating sarah, so i’ll just get her away, go make out for a bit, she looks drunk,” topper offers.

“…a’ight. yeah, lets do it bro.” rafe agrees, and they both get up off the couch. rafe stands a little bit away as he grabs another vodka pink lemonade for you, maybe a subtle bribe into talking, and a beer for himself. topper talks to sarah for a bit, greets you, then leads sarah away.

rafe’s literally directly behind you, when suddenly you’re already talking to someone else. you’re pretty chatty, it seems. rafe hangs around to catch you after your next conversation. but then he looks away for one second, then you’re gone again. he spots you on the balcony, with jj maybank. then a couple minutes later, you’re with kie carrera. then you’re shotgunning a drink with sofia. holy shit. you’ve got him wrapped around your finger already, and he looks so cute chasing after you. if he’s not pushy, he’ll never get his chance. so, channeling his inner ward cameron, he spots you with ruthie (who he never would’ve assumed you would associate with. maybe you’re just being polite), and he puts a hand on your shoulder from behind, spinning you around. “y/n. right?”

you blink, not expecting the sudden interruption. but you regain yourself quickly, smiling. “hi! yeah, i am,” you say. your voice sounds as sweet as honey. “you’re rafe cameron?”

you know who he is? he shouldn’t be surprised, you seem to know everyone, but he likes that you know, anyway. “uh, yeah, yeah, that’s me,”

“well it’s so nice to meet you,” you smile up at him. “it’s funny, sofia used to mention you a lot, and obviously im close friends with your sister. but i’ve never met you before,”

“..you’re friends with sofia?” is all he can think to ask.

“mhm. i’ve known her since grade 5. we’re not like, super close now, but we were when you guys dated,” sensing his sudden aversion to talking about her, his ex girlfriend, you shut up. “um, wanna go grab a drink?”

“oh— shit, yeah, um, brought one for you, actually,” he hands you the vodka pink lemonade. “saw you drinking one earlier, so..”

“oh my gosh, thank you so much,” you say. is he that sweet? you guess so.

“yeah, ‘course. heard sarah talk about you, and it’s all been good things, so i figured i’d try and meet you myself,”

“well now you have. i’ve heard her talk about you too,” you don’t have the heart to say it hasn’t been very good things.

it feels like this awkward small talk is going in circles. but maybe that’s a good, slow way to start something.

your name is suddenly called by a group of girls a couple meters away. “it was so nice to meet you rafe. i should go, they want me,” you say softly, reaching for his hands. he remembers when you came in holding sarah’s hands. it seems to be your thing. “i’ll see you around?”

“yeah—“ he clears his throat, gaining the courage to hold yours back. “yeah. see you around, y/n,”

you smile. you could swear he’s blushing. “you’re cute,” you say softly, squeezing his hands once more before retreating away.

he feels like he just took a shot of espresso, and now he’ll be thinking of you every night.

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hrtwayne · 2 days ago

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Hasta Los Dientes || Alexia Putellas [Part Four]

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!Reader

Summary: One of Arsenal's top players receives an offer to play for Barcelona after recovering from a cruciate ligament injury in her leg. Following a recent fallout with the Gunners' captain, the athlete decides that the best course of action is to accept the offer and escape the tension in the locker room.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: None!

Previous Chapter | Women's Football Masterlist

It was a Monday morning when Y/n stretched in bed, her eyes still heavy with sleep and her hair a mess. The midfielder had woken up just over ten minutes ago, with the sun not even showing signs of rising yet. The comforting silence was proof that her sister was still asleep and that likely a good portion of the Catalan population was still in bed as well.

She grabbed her phone, which was charging on the nightstand, and saw a few messages. There were texts from Rachel, with reminders about the day’s schedule and some updates on the preparations for the press conference happening later in the week. Y/n quickly replied, confirming that everything was under control. Next, she saw a message from Haley, who was still in London.

Y/n smiled as she read the message. Haley had always been her biggest supporter, even from afar.

After replying to the messages, Y/n stretched again and got out of bed. She had already laid out her training clothes the night before. As she packed her clothes into her bag, her eyes landed on her Adidas cleats, faithful companions in so many matches, and the personalized shin guards her niece had designed. An involuntary smile spread across her face as she remembered little Emma, just two years old, handing her the shin guards as a good luck gift. "Aunt Y/n, you’re going to be the best in the world!" the little girl had said, with the innocence of a child.

Y/n carefully packed everything into her bag, as if preparing a kit for an important mission. She knew the first training session was crucial. Not just to showcase her skills, but also to integrate into the group and earn the coach’s trust.

After carefully organizing her bag, Y/n headed to the bathroom. As she brushed her teeth, she looked at herself in the mirror, analyzing her reflection. Her hair was a bit messy, but she decided to leave it down for now. There was a determination in her eyes, a mix of nervousness and excitement.

After leaving the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, she thought about breakfast. She didn’t want anything heavy, but she knew she needed energy for the training session. She decided on avocado toast, scrambled eggs, and a cup of coffee. As she ate, she mentally reviewed the day’s routine: morning training, lunch at the club, and then a few meetings with the technical team. In the evening, she planned to explore the city with Aliyah.

Before leaving, Y/n wrote a quick note for her sister and stuck it on the fridge.

"Ally, I’ve gone to training. I’ll be back by the end of the day. Call me if you need anything."

She grabbed her sports bag, took one last look around the apartment, and left. The morning sun was already shining in Barcelona, and the fresh air greeted her with a gentle breeze. Y/n walked to the garage where her car had been delivered, tossed her bag onto the passenger seat, and started the car.

The British defender had her back to the door as she rummaged through her bag to pull out her clothes and gear for training. Y/n was so focused that she didn’t hear the loud voices entering the locker room. She was already in the Catalan team’s training kit, holding her cleats, when the voices suddenly fell silent.

Aitana was the first to recognize Y/n, from the last Euros.

"Y/n?", Aitana said, causing the midfielder to turn toward her with a friendly smile." When the news broke that you were coming, I thought it was just rumors."

"Well, you know. It’s hard to be welcomed on a team when you’ve had a fight with the captain," Y/n replied in perfect Catalan, making the other players raise their eyebrows. "And you don’t need to speak English with me; I speak Spanish and Catalan."

"Well, this is Alexia and Vicky," Aitana introduced them, and Y/n quickly shook hands with both.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you," Y/n smiled, noticing Alexia sizing her up.

"Excuse me, Y/n, your fitness coach has arrived and is calling for you on the field," One of the staff members said, and Y/n nodded as she grabbed her cleats.

Y/n quickly said her goodbyes and walked through the training center corridors with the dark-haired girl. She sighed, knowing she would likely get along well with the players.

"Damn it, Hen. I swore you wouldn’t come," Y/n complained, pushing the blond guy.

"I wouldn’t throw you to the wolves like that, Y/n," Henry replied, gently shaking Y/n’s hand." Have you met the girls yet?"

"Hmm, yes," She confirmed, walking alongside the blond through the corridors. "I talked to the captain, Aitana, and Vicky."

"I thought Keira would be the one to introduce you," Henry uncrossed his arms as Y/n finished putting on her cleats. "The coach asked to test your fitness with the starting team. I may have sent him your last training session at Arsenal. He was impressed."

Y/n shrugged, adjusting her cleats before testing the quality of the field. Her eyes met those of one of the players. It was the first time Alexia and Y/n would play together, and they both knew the clash of egos could be a big problem.

"I hope you’re not too old for a few hours of training," Keira appeared beside Y/n, making the midfielder jump in surprise.

"Damn it, Keira," Y/n muttered, placing a hand on her chest.

"I should be the one mad at you. Ten years of friendship, and you don’t even tell me you’re coming here?" Keira said, still with a fake tone of anger.

"It was a surprise to me too," Y/n replied, making it clear it hadn’t entirely been her choice.

"Does this have something to do with your almost-relationship with Leah?" Keira asked.

"Apparently, yes. And you know how the girls sometimes treat Leah’s word as gospel," Y/n shrugged, following the player. "But it’s fine; I needed a fresh start."

The two walked together to the center of the field, where the coach was already gathering the group to start the training session. As the coach explained the day’s exercises, Y/n felt the curious gazes of some of the players. She knew she was the new girl, the foreigner who had arrived with a reputation to prove. But at the same time, she felt welcomed by the smiles and nods from some of them.

The training began with warm-up exercises and short passes. Y/n quickly adapted to the pace, showing the refined technique that had brought her here. Keira, by her side, didn’t miss the chance to crack jokes and keep her relaxed.

"Remember that training session with the under-17 national team, when you fell flat on your face?" Keira said, laughing quietly as they passed the ball to each other.

"Please, don’t bring that up now," Y/n replied, laughing too."I need to maintain my professional image, you know?"

"Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me," Keira teased, sending a precise pass back to Y/n.

As the training progressed, Y/n began to feel more comfortable with her new teammates. The on-field connection with Keira was natural, as it always had been, but she also started building chemistry with other players. Coordinated attacks, precise passes, and communication that flowed better and better. Y/n felt like she was fitting in.

At the end of the session, the coach called the group for a quick talk. He praised the overall performance and gave some individual feedback. When it was Y/n’s turn, he made a brief comment:

"Y/n, you came here with a strong reputation, and today we saw why. Keep working hard and integrating into the team’s style. You have great potential here."

Y/n nodded, feeling a wave of pride and relief. She knew there was still a lot of work ahead, but the first step had been taken.

As the players dispersed toward the locker room, Keira slung an arm around Y/n’s shoulders.

"See? I told you you’d do just fine."

"It’s only the first day," Y/n replied, but with a smile on her face. "But yeah, it was good. Really good."

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni #gxg #fem reader

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therealmylesmorales · 2 months ago

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Don’t Take It Personal

Summary: you’re a little worried about how much time Vi is spending with her new friend

Part 2

Warnings: vi’s kind of a dumbass, ngl. Angst probably. R plays a sport for the plot (just vibe guys) loser!vi au

WC: 1.6k

Vi made a new friend.

That was a rare feat for her, seeing how out of the few people she considers a friend included you, her girlfriend, and Jinx, her sister.

She came home beaming after her usual workout at the gym. There was a new face she didn’t recognize and to Vi’s surprise, the friendly chat turned into a new friendship.

Her name was Caitlyn Kiramman. You knew her name, seeing the title “Kiramman” around a few buildings. Caitlyn was studying abroad for a few months, hence why Vi didn’t meet her until now. And yet, the new friendship was blossoming quickly. You didn’t mind, just happy that she managed to make more friends without you being present.

That was until Vi started hanging out with her more than you.

Srry, babe cant make it. At the gym wth Cait 💪🏻

11:23am

You frowned a bit at the recent text Vi sent you. You were at the library waiting for her for your weekly study date but when she was almost half an hour late you finally texted her. Only for your girlfriend to take a raincheck. Again.

Seeing how Vi wasn’t showing up, you still decided to stay for at least another hour; work still needed to be done with or without her. When you did decide to leave, you had to pass by the gym in order to go home. You figured Vi was still inside so you didn’t bother to linger until you heard a familiar voice.

”I’ll see you around, cupcake!”

Cupcake?

You turned to see Vi and Caitlyn leaving the large building. Vi immediately saw you and rushed over to you. Caitlyn gave you a polite wave before going her own way.

She was calling her ‘cupcake.’ You felt a little irritated at the—at your— nickname Vi called Caitlyn. Granted, ‘cupcake’ wasn’t one that was used very often, only when Vi was teasing or being purposely irritating to you. But still. It was your name.

Pushing the negative feelings aside you greeted Vi with a kiss. She smiled into it then pulled you into a tight hug, her arms almost crushing you.

”You stick, Vi,” you muttered into her neck.

A soft laugh escaped her. “You enjoy it. What are you doing here?”

”Going home. Then I saw you and…cupcake.”

”Don’t be like that,” Vi groaned, trying to play it off. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Never said you did.” You tried to change the subject, not wanting to make it a big deal. “Are you going to my game Friday or are you going to be too busy with Caitlyn. It’s the last one of the season, Vi.”

“Hey, have I ever missed a game before?” She asked rhetorically. ”But if it makes you feel better, I promise that I’ll be there.”

”Good.”

Vi then wrapped her arm around you, putting you in an almost headlock, and started walking in the direction of the same apartment. “Let’s go. I’m exhausted.”

While what Vi said did ease some of you worrying, it didn’t stay for long. For the rest of the week, Vi was still with Caitlyn. Even though you attended most of the same classes, and stayed in the same home, you only saw her in passing or for only an hour at night. And every word that came out of her mouth was about the other girl.

“I really think you’ll like Cait, she reminds me of you.”

“Caitlyn squatted 210 today! She’s catching up to me.”

”I’m sorry, baby. Cait and I made plans to see that movie. You can still come!” You hate to admit it but that comment made you pissed off more than anything.

Caitlyn, Caitlyn, Caitlyn. You haven’t even properly met the girl yet it seemed like you knew everything about her.

When Friday finally came, you just hoped Vi would pay more attention to you rather than her friend. Unfortunately, you were proven wrong.

Hey, pretty, the game is starting soon. Are you still coming?

6:37pm

Yoooo Viiii??

7:01pm

Violet, dude, where are you??

7:15pm

Your leg tapped nervously against the ground, scanning the crowd for the familiar pink haired girl, but you came up dry. In the crowd you could see Jayce, Viktor and Mel who all gave you encouraging smiles. Even Jinx showed up, sitting next to Ekko. She gave you a small shrug at your questioning glance before turning back to your phone, possibly texting her sister.

The coach got your attention, urging you to join your teammates on the court. And with a heavy, disappointed sigh, you got up from the bench. You couldn’t focus on Vi anymore, but you still hoped that she would show up sometime during the game. She did promise after all.

But throughout the game, that familiar full head of pink hair was nowhere to be seen. There was an empty spot next to Jinx that was never filled. Trying to ignore the wide open space was almost impossible, but the game was won without Vi cheering for you. Sure, the ball did slip from your hands more times than you’d like to admit, but your team won.

Your friends that did decide to show up wanted to take you out for the rest of the night, a congratulatory dinner, but you weren’t feeling it. And while Jinx doesn’t like saying the word no, she surprisingly let you go home after you refused. You really just wanted to see if or when Vi would be home.

It was nearing nine at night and Vi still hadn’t called you and your recent text went unanswered. The TV was playing a show, mostly used as background noise as your thoughts took over you.

Almost thirty minutes later, you could hear some noise coming from the hallway.

The door to the apartment opened and you could hear Vi humming a song to herself when she locked up for the night. From your spot on the couch, you saw nothing wrong with her so you were glad to know she was safe. But now she had to dig herself out of the hole she dug.

Vi actually seemed surprised to see you but the smile she gave you was instant. “Oh, hey, babe. Why are you still up?”

”Waiting for you,” you shot back, moving to get closer to her. “It’s been hours Vi, we all have been calling and texting you—“

Vi showed you her phone, a black screen staring back at you. “It died a while ago. What’s with the third degree?”

”Do you remember what day it is?”

”Um…the tenth?”

”Um, maybe it’s the day of my game that you’d promise to come to,” you mocked. Yeah, you were being petty but you thought she deserved it.

Vi muttered a small curse to herself and she looked genuinely apologetic. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I swear, I was going to come but then my phone died, and-and I was with Caitlyn and—“

A heavy sigh escaped you at the name. “Caitlyn, right yeah. That makes sense.”

A look came on Vi’s face, one you knew too well when she was about to become argumentative. “What are you talking about?”

”You’ve been spending a lot of time with her, Vi,” you pointed out. “I’ve noticed it— we all have. You’re always with her.”

”We’re friends!”

”You’re friends with Jayce but when’s the last time you’ve hung out with him since meeting Caitlyn? Is she too rich for chargers so you couldn’t check your phone for five minutes?”

Vi scoffed at you. “What, you want me to stop hanging out with Caitlyn just because you’re jealous?”

”I have nothing to be jealous of, Violet!” You yelled. “Cait’s a friend, I get that. But you have been blowing me off time and time again for her. And the one time I actually needed you, you were with her instead. How the hell do you expect me to feel?”

A short pause came from Violet. And what she said next, set your skin aflame.

”I just think you’re overreacting. It’s a fucking game, I’ll just watch the next one.”

“Okay, you know what,” you paused, running your hands over your face; it didn’t do much to calm your heated nerves. “I’m not doing this with you, right now, Vi.”

Vi’s tense posture immediately changed at the tone of your voice; it was shaky, as if you were holding back tears. You almost never cried, at least in front of her, so the new sight was worrisome. She heard you breath in harshly before continuing.

“I’m way too upset at you right now to even finish this conversation,” you said quietly to her. “I’m tired…and honestly just want some space from you.”

Vi swore her heart stopped at those words. Space? “You…Y/N, you can’t be serious.” Space was the main thing Vi hated. It meant you leaving her.

”I am, actually.” Your back was turned from her at that point so you couldn’t see her face fall in disbelief at the sight of you getting ready to leave the apartment.

She knew you made up your mind and were done hearing her but Vi still had to try. “Babe, don’t go. You’re right, is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry, alright?”

”Glad you came to your senses,” you muttered, albeit bitterly.

Vi was desperate at this point. “You don’t have to leave! I can sleep out here!”

”When I said ‘space’, Vi, I meant completely,” you said. Your voice was starting to get tense, a tell that you were getting annoyed. “My parents live a few minutes away, remember? I'll be fine.”

”Y/N please, just—“

“Vi! I’ll…talk to you eventually,” was the last thing you said before the door closed behind you.

#vi x reader #arcane x reader #c: vi #myles writing

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navybrat817 · 3 months ago

Text

Double Shift

Pairing: Chop Shop Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky helps you unwind after you work a double shift.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, slight insecurities, bit of backstory, dirty talk, mild smut, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: @nixakimbo was kind enough to gift me with this GORGEOUS edit and I had to create a new AU. Sorry, lovelies? @tavners , this is for you. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You dropped your bag the moment you walked through the door. Your feet ached despite the comfortable shoes, and your head throbbed with each passing second. Groaning, you dragged yourself to the couch, collapsing into it like it was the only place you’d ever wanted to be. Working doubles was exhausting, but this? This was something else entirely.

It was a long day in a series of long days, but now you had a chance to relax.

Reaching for the nearby pillow, you inhaled deeply, a smile tugging at your lips. Instead of the usual fresh scent of your couch, you caught the familiar, warm fragrance of your boyfriend’s cologne. He must have spritzed it before leaving for work. It was like leaning into him and your shoulder relaxed more, even though you wished he were really there.

The sound of the door creaking open a few minutes later told you that your wish had been granted.

“Aww. Long day, baby?” Bucky cooed from the doorway, spotting you sprawled out with no intention of moving to greet him. “You know your bag’s on the ground?”

“Mm-hmm.” You rubbed your temples slowly. “You know I worked a double, right? I’m lucky I made it to the couch.”

His soft chuckle reached your ears as he set his keys down and picked up your bag. “I know and I’m sorry. You work really hard.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead once he reached the couch. “I wish you didn't have to.”

You turned your head, the throbbing in your temples easing when your eyes met his. His black tank top fit him perfectly, complementing the tattoos that stretched across his neck and arms. The skulls and flowers, symbols of death and hope, told stories of his past. Stories he didn't have to tell you about, but he did anyway and you were happy to know every detail. As captivating as the ink was, it was his blue eyes that held you. In them, you saw your future, bright and full of love.

“That’s life. And you work hard, too,” you reminded him.

“Yeah. My job is so honorable,” he mumbled, making a mess of his hair as he ran a hand through it. “I’m really making a difference in the world.”

You frowned sympathetically. Bucky was a gifted mechanic, but his family was dealt a bad hand and he did what he had to do to take care of his younger sister. “And you’ll be out of there soon.”

Once he finished paying off Becca's medical bills, he could quit. That day was getting closer and closer. And one day he’d open his own shop, too, a legitimate shop. You wanted to stand beside him when that dream came true. Becca would be so proud.

Both of you wanted the best for Bucky.

He sighed, sinking to his knees and resting his hands on your thighs. You could see the gray peppering his scruff and you couldn’t help but reach out to run your nails through it. The sound of his groan made you smile, so you did it again.

“I just wanna give you the world,” he whispered, turning his head and kissing your palm. “You know that, right?”

“You already do,” you whispered back, his eyes softening. You had a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and his love in your heart. It was all you needed. “But you know, I could-”

Bucky put a finger to your lips to stop you. “I know what you're going to say and we’re not selling your dad's car.”

You smiled sadly. Your dad’s car was a classic and could get Bucky the money he needed, but he turned the offer down each time you brought it up. He didn't want you to give up one of the only things you had left of your dad. “I won't say a word tonight.”

But you could try again tomorrow.

“Thank you.” He took your hand and kissed your palm again. “You up for a ride later?”

“I don’t think I’m moving from this spot tonight,” you half smiled. “But we can tomorrow.”

“You don’t wanna go for a ride tonight?” he asked, surprise laced in his voice. You usually jumped at the chance to ride his motorcycle with him.

“Feet and head hurt a little,” you admitted, touching his cheek as concern etched his features. “I’m fine, really. Nothing for you to make a fuss about, but I won't turn you down if you want to dote on me.”

“Baby,” he sighed, slipping your shoes off. You gasped when he began massaging the sole of your right foot, the gentle pressure making your body sink deeper into the couch. By the time he switched to your left foot, you were practically melting. “That better?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, combing your fingers through his dark hair. He always took care of you. “I swear, you have magic hands.”

“Oh, I have more than magic hands,” he winked, your heart skipping a beat. “And you know what’s good for headaches?”

“Bucky…” you smiled. There was a warning in your voice, but you couldn't help the amusement in your eyes.

“Yes, me,” he grinned. “I’m very good at helping with headaches and you know it.”

Your smile widened. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, so making you come all over my face before I cook you dinner was not what you meant and will not help your headache?” he asked, his voice deep, dripping with desire.

Whatever ache you felt in your body all went straight to your pussy. A deep, throbbing ache that cried out for him to soothe it since he was the cause. “Is making melt on your tongue as my reward for working a double?”

He smirked at your breathy tone. “That’s exactly what it is.” He didn’t need to ask you to lift your hips when he reached for the waistband of your pants and pulled them off with your underwear. Your body moved on instinct for him, fluid and in sync. “I can feed you right here and carry you to bed, too.”

“I’m too big and heavy for you to carry me,” you teased. His eyes flashed, and before you could react, he leaned down unexpectedly, sinking his teeth into your thigh. Your mouth fell open from the sting, but it felt good, too. “Hey!” You shrieked.

“You’re not big. You’re not heavy. You’re perfect,” he snarled, brushing his tongue along the teeth marks. You wanted his mark all over you. “I’ll blame that remark on how tired you are right now from work.”

Framing his face to lift his head, you met his lips in a soft kiss, hoping to convey how much it meant to you that he saw you as beautiful. How touched you were that he always put your care and feelings first. As scary as he looked to others, you knew the man inside. The one with a heart full of passion.

“I’m not perfect,” you whispered against his lips, gasping when he nibbled your bottom lip. A second bite for once again downplaying yourself. “But I’m perfect for you.”

“You think so?” he asked quietly.

“I know so,” you said, biting his bottom lip for good measure.

He thought you were too good for him some days, and you were quick to shut that down. A good man wouldn’t have taken care of his sister the way he did, and he wouldn’t love you wholeheartedly if he was less of a good person than you. His current profession didn’t define him, and you refused to let him believe it did.

“I...” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Love...” You shivered when he kissed the other corner. “You.”

A flame lit within your heart. His tender touches and words burned you from the inside out. “I love you, too,” you managed to whisper before his lips covered yours again.

Fresh arousal washed over you when he smiled and kissed down your body. “Now let me show you with my mouth how much I love you,” he simpered, parting your legs to open for him. “Might die if I don’t get my mouth on you and you wouldn’t want that, would you? And we need to get rid of your headache.”

You moaned, also feeling like you’d die if he didn’t touch you. “Do I get your cock, too? It’s a pretty bad headache you need to help me get rid of,” you teased. If your pain actually persisted, he’d make you take something and insist on you resting. And maybe it was selfish to ask for more than one orgasm, but you both knew he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to rock your world.

“Before and after dinner,” he promised, his pupils dialting as he stared between your trembling thighs. “Fuck, I missed you today,” he groaned.

“Missed me or my pussy?” you asked, certain that you were going to soak the cushion beneath you and you didn’t care as long as he got you off. “Because we both missed you.”

He smirked, his hand inching up your thigh. “Of course, you missed me. Who else would make you come as hard as I do?”

Cocky was a good look on him, but you could play a little, too. “Well…” Your coy smile had him raising his eyebrow. “If you really want to know, there’s-” You threw your head back with a cry as Bucky’s head dipped down to taste you, effectively cutting off your teasing.

It wouldn’t take long for you to coat his fingers and tongue with your release. It never did with him. He’d make you taste yourself when he kissed you after so you could fully appreciate the orgasm he gave you. He wouldn’t give you any reprieve when he’d bend you over the couch and sink his cock into your sensitive pussy. Your sounds would be erotic music to his ears, just like his words were music to yours.

“Grind that pussy back against me. Show me how much you crave my cock.”

“Such a good girl for me. Such a good pussy for me to fuck and fill.”

“Don’t you dare rub your clit. You wanna come? I’ll make you come.”

“Oh, you don’t have to beg for me to come inside you. I’ll give it to you.”

You’d scream his name in ecstasy and pass out in his arms from the best kind of exhaustion. You’d wake up to him kissing your forehead and holding you upright so he could hand feed you a delicious meal. You’d smile when he told you how much he loved you and that he'd be free of the chop shop soon. And you’d tell him you loved him, too, before he fucked you all over again.

It was going to be a good night.

Appreciate you lovelies indulging me like always and hope to share more when I can. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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unconventional-lawnchair · 3 months ago

Note

okay, because you broke my heart with everything is blue, I want a barty x potter!reader where it's the mauraders seeing how barty and the reader love/take care of each other. I need to be healed, I might die

They'll Be Alright

Barty Crouch Jr. x Potter!Fem!Reader

AN: I've taken out all the stops to mend your heart

WC: ~5k

Summary: James Potter learns to like tolerate his sisters taste in men.

Warnings: Grumpy James, Snogging, cursing, tooth rotting fluff, self indulgent, this is literally the cheesiest things I could come up with

“I can't do this much longer, I'm going mad.” James hissed as he sat on the grass, watching from across the courtyard as you stood outside the Quidditch pitch with a bit of a pacing form. You were sitting with your big brother and his friends just moments ago, but RavenClaw was out for practice and you just couldn't wait for your precious boy to leave the stands.

“I think it's cute.” Lily sang sweetly. “She's as obsessed with him as he is with her. Only a Potter could match a Crouch’s insanity.”

James groaned, dragging his hands down his face dramatically as Sirius burst out laughing, collapsing onto the grass beside him. “It’s not cute, Lily,” James hissed, throwing a wild gesture toward you. “It’s deranged. She’s my little sister, for Merlin’s sake! And she’s practically glued to the sidelines for him. Him! Of all people.”

“She’s not glued, mate. Look- she’s pacing,” Sirius pointed out helpfully, grinning as he threw a snitch up into the air and caught it lazily. “And, to be fair, Barty’s just as bad. Didn’t he travel all the way from Hogwarts to the Potter Manor once just to say, what was it? Right!” He sat up sharply and threw in some jazz hands. “Hi, to her over winter break?”

James groaned louder, flopping onto his back in the grass. “Don’t remind me. He’s the one who’s mad, and now she’s gone mad too. My family’s turning into a bloody soap opera.”

“It’s not madness,” Lily argued, her voice soft with a knowing smile as she plucked a daisy from the grass. “It’s love, James. Messy, consuming love. And if you can’t see it, then you’ve forgotten what it was like when you were chasing after me.”

“Oh, don’t start,” James grumbled, sitting up to glare at her, though his face was tinged with a hint of pink. “That’s completely different.”

“Is it?” Lily asked, raising a brow as she tucked the daisy behind her ear. “Because I distinctly remember you doing some insane things for me- like charming the entire Gryffindor common room to play my favorite song every time I walked in.”

Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter, nearly choking on his snitch when he forgot to catch it. “Oh, that was brilliant! What was it again? Some Muggle tune about sunshine?”

“‘Here Comes the Sun,’” Lily said smugly, her smile widening as James grumbled under his breath. “And I’ll remind you, Potter, that it worked.”

“That’s different!” James protested again, jabbing a finger in your direction. “I wasn’t a bloody Crouch!”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally looked up from his book with a raised brow. “And what, exactly, is wrong with being a Crouch?” He asked calmly, though his tone carried a faint edge of amusement.

James floundered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You know what I mean! He’s- he’s- he’s bloody Barty! He’s reckless, obsessive, and- and-”

“And utterly devoted to her,” Lily interrupted firmly, her eyes softening as she looked toward you across the courtyard. “He’d send us back to the stone age if she complained it was too busy, James. And she’d do the same for him. That’s not something you get to stand in the way of.”

James sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “I just want her to be happy.” He muttered. “And safe.”

“She is happy,” Lily said gently, resting a hand on his arm. “And as for safe- well, that’s why she’s got you, isn’t it? To make sure nothing gets in the way of her happiness. I'm also quite sure if anyone is to defend her like you have all these years.. it would be him.”

James let out a long, slow breath, watching as you finally stopped pacing, your face lighting up as Barty appeared at the top of the Quidditch stands. Even from across the courtyard, the way your shoulders relaxed and your smile softened was undeniable.

“She looks so bloody happy,” James mumbled, almost to himself.

“She is,” Lily said softly. “Just like you were when you finally got me.”

James turned to her, his face scrunching up as though he’d tasted something sour. “Don’t make me feel good about this, Evans.”

Lily just laughed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Sorry, love. It’s my job.”

Remus chuckled. “Just watch mate.”

~~~

“My dazzling girl!” Barty called down from the steps as he hurried down. You couldn't help but feel a humiliating bubbling of excitement in your chest. Normally, you wouldn't be so shameless and public with your affections, but since dating the brazen Bartemius, you had forgotten what it meant to hold private affections.

“My brilliant boy.” You cooed back and he hurried across the yard to meet you. “How was it?”

“Dreadful. Humiliating. Humbling.” He rambled and stepped closer to you, taking your hand and kissing it, before slowly leading the kiss up your arm to your neck. You laughed and attempted to free yourself, only for him to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you in, flush against him. “You simply must make me feel better.”

“It was only practice!” You laughed and cupped his cheeks in your hands, stilling his unconventional attack before it could reach your face. He gave you that signature woman eating smile with dimples that pressed so far into his cheeks you could about die. “It couldn't have been that bad.”

“It was, you see.” He started and gave you a playfully firm dip before he spun you around to scoop you back up to a proper stand. “There was this dazzling girl-”

“You've used dazzling for today, Barty.” You teased and he gave you a wolfish grin.

“This beautiful, magnificent, breathtaking, awe inspiring-”

“Barty!” You laughed and he leaned in with a flurry of kisses to your cheek, effectively freeing himself from your hands.

“Irresistible, bewitching, stunning-”

“Barty-”

“Absolutely exquisite witch who promised to watch my every game, and yet, not this one.” He moped and you shook your head.

“That was practice, my love.” You muttered and he gasped.

“And thus it does not deserve your full undivided attention?”

You couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped your lips, your hands playfully swatting at his chest as you shook your head. “You’re insufferable, Bartemius Crouch.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” Barty countered, his grin widening into something wickedly charming as he tugged you closer. “Which makes you either as mad as me or utterly bewitched. Shall we flip a coin to decide?”

“Bewitched, obviously,” You teased, raising an eyebrow as you leaned in closer. “But don’t let it go to your head, Mr. Crouch.”

“Too late.” He replied with a laugh, his lips brushing your temple before trailing down to your cheek. “My head’s been full of you for years, my star. You’ve left no room for anything else. I think it's only fair I consume your every thought from now on.”

“Sweet words don’t excuse your theatrics.” You teased, your hands gently slipping to his shoulders as you pretended to push him away, though neither of you truly let go. “You’re going to give James a heart attack if you keep this up.”

Barty’s grin turned mischievous, and he tilted his head to glance toward the courtyard where your brother and his friends were undoubtedly watching. “Good,” He said with mock seriousness, his tone laced with humor. “If I can survive Quidditch practice, he can survive the sight of me adoring his sister.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the smile off your face as you sighed dramatically. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re perfect,” He murmured, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist. “So I think that makes us even.”

“Even?” You repeated with a laugh, shaking your head as you leaned your forehead against his. “I think it makes you a menace.”

“I’ll take it,” Barty replied, his voice softer now, his green eyes locked onto yours with a sincerity that made your heart skip. “As long as it means I get to keep you.”

For a moment, the playful banter between you faded, replaced by the weight of his words and the warmth of his presence. You knew the world saw Barty as reckless, obsessive, even dangerous. But in moments like this, when he looked at you like you were the only thing grounding him, it was hard not to feel the same pull that had always drawn you to him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said softly, your hands brushing down his arms before entwining your fingers with his. “Just… promise me you’ll try not to antagonize James too much. He’s already halfway to pulling his hair out.”

Barty smirked, his dimple deepening in that way that always made your heart flutter. “No promises,” He teased, though the glint in his eye told you he’d try- for you, if nothing else.

“Bartemius Crouch,” You huffed, feigning sternness as you tugged his hand. “I mean it.”

“And I mean it when I say you’re irresistible,” He countered, spinning you again for good measure before pulling you back into his arms. “Now, my alluring, charming, pretty girl- are you ready to make James’s day a little more unbearable?”

You let out a laugh, the sound bright and lighthearted, as he laced your fingers together and led you back toward the courtyard. You could already see the exasperation on James’s face from across the field, but Merlin did you hear it. Him and Lily.

“I wasn't THAT bad!”

“Oh yes you were!”

~~~

It was a quiet afternoon in the Gryffindor common room when James finally let out a dramatic groan, throwing his head back against the couch. “I can’t take it anymore!” He exclaimed, startling Lily, who had been peacefully reading beside him.

“What now?” She asked, though the amused quirk of her lips showed she already knew the answer.

“It’s them,” James hissed, pointing toward the window where you and Barty were clearly visible in the courtyard below. You were both sitting on the edge of the fountain, laughing at something Barty had said as he carefully wrapped a scarf around your neck, adjusting it as though it were a delicate treasure. “They’re insufferable.”

“They’re adorable,” Lily corrected, leaning over to peek out the window. She sighed softly, her expression turning fond as she watched Barty tuck your hair behind your ear and press a quick kiss to your temple. “Look at him. He absolutely dotes on her.”

“Exactly!” James groaned again. “Dotes! It’s unnatural. He’s supposed to be a Crouch-brooding and conniving, not… not whatever that is.”

“Love,” Remus supplied calmly, not even looking up from his book.

“Obsessive devotion,” Sirius added with a smirk, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth as he sprawled on the armchair.

“Same thing,” Lily said with a shrug. “And besides, James, weren’t you the same way with me? You practically worshipped the ground I walked on.”

“Still do,” Sirius muttered, earning a glare from James and a stifled laugh from Lily.

“That’s different,” James argued, his voice petulant. “I wasn’t… that. Look at him! He’s practically wrapped around her finger.”

“And she’s wrapped around his,” Lily pointed out, motioning toward the window again. Sure enough, Barty had pulled you to your feet and was holding your hand as he led you toward the castle steps, pausing every few moments to make you laugh with his animated gestures.

“He carries her books half the time,” Sirius added. “And she carries his cloak when he forgets it.”

“She fixes his collar when it's crooked,” Remus chimed in. “And he charms her quills when they snap.”

James groaned louder, dragging his hands down his face. “You’re not helping.”

“Prongs,” Sirius said with a chuckle, sitting up and clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve got to admit, they’re good together. Annoyingly good, yes, but still.”

“Annoying is an understatement,” James grumbled, but his protests faltered as the portrait hole swung open and you entered the room, Barty trailing behind you with an armful of books and an easy grin on his face.

You turned to him with an exasperated laugh. “You didn’t have to carry all of them, you know. I can manage.”

“Nonsense,” Barty replied smoothly, setting the books down on a nearby table before tugging at his crooked collar. “If I can’t carry a few books for my treasure, what kind of wizard am I?”

“A dramatic one,” You teased, stepping closer to him to fix his collar with practiced ease. “There. All better.”

“And this is why I adore you,” He said, grinning as he caught your hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss.

James let out a strangled noise from the couch, causing you to turn with a startled look. “Everything alright, Jamie?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Perfectly fine,” he said through gritted teeth, glaring at Barty, who had the audacity to wink at him.

Lily leaned over to whisper in James’s ear, her voice low but teasing. “Admit it, James. You’re just mad he treats her as well as you treat me.”

James’s face turned scarlet, and Sirius howled with laughter, nearly toppling out of his chair. “Got you there, mate!”

~~~

The clatter of hurried footsteps echoed down the stone corridor as you stopped in your tracks, turning just in time to see Barty sprinting toward you with an energy that bordered on reckless. His tie was slightly askew, his school robes flaring behind him as he called out, his voice full of dramatic flair, “Treasure! You simply must hear this- you’ll have no choice but to reward me with a kiss once you hear of my heroics.”

You furrowed your brow but couldn’t suppress the amused smile tugging at your lips. He always had a way of making everything sound like the most exciting tale in the world. As he skidded to a halt in front of you, panting slightly but grinning ear to ear, you took a moment to properly look at him.

For once, Barty had made an effort with his appearance. His robes, usually a little wrinkled or hanging off his shoulders in that endearingly careless way, were perfectly straightened. His tie was knotted neatly (if a little loose), and his hair was slicked back in a way that made your stomach twist, the gleaming coil of one rebellious strand falling charmingly over his forehead. He was maddening, and he knew it.

“Oh?” You replied, your voice playful as you arched a brow.

Barty straightened, smoothing the lapels of his robe with an exaggerated air of importance. “Correct me if I’m wrong- I hardly ever am- but you look like you might just kiss me unprompted.”

Your cheeks flamed at his words, the boldness of his statement making your heart skip. “Crouch!” You hissed, swatting lightly at his chest in mock indignation.

He caught your hand easily, holding it against his chest with a dramatic sigh. “See? Even your instincts betray you. Your heart is telling you to reward me already.”

“And what exactly did you do to earn this so-called reward?” You asked, your tone laced with amusement.

He tilted his head, his dimpled grin widening as he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a great secret. “I managed to survive an entire Transfiguration class without turning our professor’s patience into dust. Surely that deserves a small token of appreciation.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head at his antics. “That’s your big heroic tale? Restraint in a single class?”

“Not just any class,” He countered, pulling you closer with the hand still held captive against his chest. “A full fifty minutes of maintaining decorum. You, of all people, should know what a trial that is for me.”

“Decorum, huh?” You teased, your lips twitching as you fixed his slightly frazzled lapel. “Then why are you so out of breath, running down the halls like a maniac?”

“Because the faster I reached you, the sooner I’d get my reward.” He grinned, tilting his head closer to yours. “Now, treasure, let’s not delay-”

“Barty!” You cut him off with a laugh, stepping back to put some space between you. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are, utterly smitten,” He said cheekily, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your chest ache. He reached out, brushing an errant strand of hair from your face, and you felt your heart skip again.

Before you could respond, a voice broke through the moment, sharp and incredulous. “You two are going to make me lose my mind.”

You both turned to see James standing a few feet away, arms crossed and a look of pure exasperation on his face. Sirius was behind him, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and Remus stood a little further back, his book tucked under one arm, an amused glint in his eye.

“Honestly, mate,” James continued, throwing his hands up. “Must you be this dramatic? She’s my sister, not the bloody queen.”

“And yet,” Barty said smoothly, not missing a beat as he turned to James with a smirk, “she deserves nothing less than a royal treatment.”

James groaned, dragging his hands down his face as Sirius burst out laughing, clapping him on the back. “He’s got a point, Prongs.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress your own laughter, but Barty caught your chin with gentle fingers, turning your gaze back to him. “Pay no mind to the peanut gallery,” He said softly, his tone dropping to something more intimate. “I’m only interested in you, treasure.”

Your heart swelled, and for a moment, you forgot all about James’s groaning, Sirius’s laughter, and the knowing look Remus was undoubtedly giving. All you could see was Barty- your boy, maddeningly confident yet infinitely tender, his green eyes locked onto yours as if you were the only person in the world.

And as maddening as it was, he certainly did deserve that kiss.

~~~

The firelight flickered warmly in the Potter living room as the group gathered for the holidays. Snow had blanketed the grounds outside, creating a cozy atmosphere inside the bustling house. You were curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your lap, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in your hands. James sat nearby, watching with a sharp eye as Barty leaned down to adjust the blanket around your legs, making sure you were tucked in properly.

The sight grated on James- he was used to being the one to look after you, his little sister, not this Crouch boy who had somehow wormed his way into your life. But then Barty turned, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside you, and James found himself watching the interaction more closely than he’d care to admit.

“You didn’t have to go out into the cold to fetch the marshmallows, you know,” You said softly, your voice filled with affection as you sipped your drink.

“Of course I did,” Barty replied, grinning up at you. “Your hot chocolate isn’t complete without them. It’s a crime to deprive you of anything less than perfection.”

James rolled his eyes, but Lily elbowed him gently, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Watch,” She whispered.

As if on cue, you reached for the plate of marshmallows to pop one into your drink, but Barty’s hand shot out to stop you. “Ah, ah, allow me,” He said with a dramatic flair, picking out the largest marshmallow with precision. He placed it delicately into your mug before handing it back with a flourish. “Perfectly placed, as all marshmallows should be.”

You laughed, a bright sound that made James pause. He couldn’t deny that it was genuine, the kind of laugh he hadn’t heard from you in a long time. And the way Barty looked at you in response- like your happiness was the only thing that mattered- made James’s chest tighten in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

As the night went on, James watched the two of you more closely. It wasn’t just the over-the-top gestures or the playful banter; it was the way Barty noticed the smallest things about you. How he shifted your mug away when he noticed you leaning too far forward, how he reached for the book you’d left on the side table before you even asked for it, how he listened intently to every word you said, his focus unwavering.

Merlin even their parents loved him.

Later, when the others had dispersed to different parts of the house, James found himself in the kitchen with Barty. The younger boy was rinsing out a mug, his usual bravado toned down in the quiet moment.

“You really care about her, don’t you?” James asked suddenly, his voice steady but curious.

Barty looked up, surprised by the question. But then his expression softened, and he nodded. “More than anything,” He said simply, his tone devoid of his usual dramatics. “She’s everything to me, Potter.”

James leaned against the counter, his arms crossed as he studied Barty carefully. “You know, if you hurt her, I’ll-”

“Spend every waking moment trying to kill me?” Barty interrupted with a small, knowing smile. “I know. But you won’t have to. Because I’d rather tear myself apart than see her hurt.”

James blinked, caught off guard by the raw sincerity in Barty’s voice. For the first time, he saw past the theatrics and charm, and what he found there surprised him. There was a genuine devotion, a steadfastness that even James couldn’t deny.

“You’re good to her,” James said finally, his voice quieter. “Better than I thought you’d be.”

Barty smirked, but there was no arrogance in it this time- only a quiet confidence. “She deserves nothing less.”

James nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. For the first time, he found himself believing that maybe- just maybe- Barty Crouch wasn’t the worst person his sister could have chosen. In fact, as he watched Barty quietly return the mug to the cupboard, James couldn’t help but think that she might have chosen someone who truly knew how to love her the way she deserved.

~~~

The tension between you and Barty had been simmering all day, ever since that small disagreement in the courtyard earlier. It wasn’t anything monumental- just one of his reckless decisions clashing with your cautious nature- but it had left you feeling irritated and, perhaps, a little hurt.

Now, as you sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, picking at your dinner, the weight of the silence between you lingered in the back of your mind. Barty hadn’t come to sit with you, choosing instead to stay at the Ravenclaw table. Every so often, you caught him sneaking a glance your way, but neither of you made a move to close the distance.

“You’re brooding,” Lily said gently, nudging your arm with her elbow.

“I’m not brooding,” You replied, though your tone lacked conviction.

“She’s brooding,” Sirius confirmed from across the table, earning a glare from you. “You’ve got that ‘he’s an idiot, but I still love him’ look all over your face. I'm very familiar."

You rolled your eyes, but before you could retort, Remus leaned in, his voice calm and measured. “You know, he’s been sulking at the Ravenclaw table since lunch. Practically hasn’t touched his food.”

“I don’t care,” You muttered, stabbing at your mashed potatoes.

“Sure, you don’t,” James said, his tone laced with sarcasm as he leaned back in his seat. “That’s why you’ve been glancing at him every five minutes.”

“I have not,” You snapped, though your cheeks flushed in betrayal.

James smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “Look, I’ll admit it- he’s an absolute pain sometimes. But he’s your pain, and frankly, I’ve put a lot of effort into liking this one. Don’t break his heart.”

The entire table froze. Lily’s fork clattered against her plate, and Sirius let out a loud, exaggerated gasp, slapping a hand over his mouth like he’d just heard the most scandalous news of the year.

“Did… did you just admit you like him?” Remus asked, his tone full of disbelief.

James shifted uncomfortably under the weight of everyone’s stares. “I didn’t say I like him,” He grumbled, though the tips of his ears burned red. “I just said I’ve put in the time.”

“That’s the same thing, mate,” Sirius said with a grin. “And we’re never letting you live this down.”

Lily laughed, nudging James playfully. “I think it’s sweet. It only took him months of watching them make heart eyes at each other to admit it.”

“Shut it, Evans,” James muttered, though his scowl softened as his gaze flicked to you. “Seriously, though. He’s mad about you. Don’t let this stupid fight ruin something good.”

You blinked at your brother, caught somewhere between gratitude and shock. “You really think that?”

James sighed, his expression softening. “Yeah. I do. Just… go talk to him, alright? Put me out of my misery.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you as you stood, smoothing out your robes. “Fine. But if he’s still being a prat, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair,” James said, though he shot you a rare, encouraging smile.

As you crossed the Great Hall, you could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, the murmurs from the Gryffindor table blending with the soft hum of conversation around the room. When you reached the Ravenclaw table, Barty looked up, his green eyes widening in surprise as you stopped beside him.

“Treasure,” He started, his voice tentative, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“We need to talk,” You said firmly, though the corner of your lips twitched upward.

Barty stood immediately, his end of the bench scraping against the stone floor. “Anything. Anywhere.”

You nodded toward the doors, and he followed without hesitation, leaving behind his untouched dinner and a flurry of whispers in his wake.

Back at the Gryffindor table, James let out a heavy sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair. “Finally.”

“I can’t believe it,” Sirius said, shaking his head in mock astonishment. “Prongs has feelings. Actual, human feelings.”

“Don’t push it, Padfoot,” James muttered, though the faint smile on his face betrayed him.

Lily rested her chin on her hand, watching as you and Barty disappeared through the doors. “I think it’s sweet. He finally gets it.”

“Better late than never,” Remus added with a small smile. “Though I’m sure he’ll deny it by morning.”

Sirius, smirked devilishly and Lily’s smile twitched just a bit.

“It's almost like we didn't catch them snogging a few days ago.” He sang and James's face turned pale and his eyes widened.

James shot up from his seat so quickly that his table toppled backward, the loud clatter echoing through the Great Hall. “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

Sirius threw his head back in laughter, nearly choking on his pumpkin juice, while Lily covered her mouth with her hand, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“I said,” Sirius repeated slowly, his grin widening, “it’s almost like we didn’t catch them snogging a few days ago. Almost.”

“You- you WHAT?” James sputtered, looking between Sirius and Lily with a mixture of horror and betrayal. “And you didn’t tell me? Evans! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am on your side,” Lily said, struggling to keep her composure as she shrugged innocently. “I just didn’t think it was a big deal. They’re dating, James. What did you expect?”

“What did I- what did I- NOT THAT!” James shouted, flailing his arms toward the doors where you and Barty had disappeared. “I didn’t expect him to be sticking his tongue down her throat in public!”

“It wasn’t public,” Sirius said with a mockingly thoughtful expression. “It was a little alcove near the library, actually. Quite private. You’d be proud of them, Prongs- very stealthy, very romantic. A solid 9 out of 10.”

James groaned, dragging his hands down his face dramatically as Remus finally chimed in, his tone calm but amused. “James, they’re in a relationship. This isn’t exactly shocking.”

“It is to me!” James snapped, glaring at Remus as if he’d just committed treason. “And you lot just sat on this information like it was nothing?”

“Mate, you’ve been watching them practically live in each other’s pockets for months now,” Sirius said, still grinning. “I figured you’d have put it together by now.”

Lily patted James’s arm consolingly, though her eyes still sparkled with mischief. “I think you’re just mad because you’re starting to like Barty, and this makes it harder for you to yell at him.”

James opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. He closed his mouth, glaring at the table as his face turned an impressive shade of red.

“Admit it, Prongs,” Sirius said, leaning forward with a gleeful grin. “You like him. He’s grown on you.”

“I don’t like him,” James muttered, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. “I tolerate him. For her.”

“You tolerate him enough to tell her not to break his heart,” Remus pointed out, his lips twitching.

James groaned again, collapsing back into his seat with the air of a man defeated. “Fine. I don’t hate him. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Sirius said with a wink. “Though I’d be happier if you didn’t look like you were about to throw a fit every time you saw them hold hands.”

Lily leaned in closer, her voice soft but teasing. “He loves her, James. And she loves him. That’s not something you need to fight.”

James sighed heavily, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, well… if he hurts her, it’s still open season.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius said with a laugh. “But you’ll have to get in line behind her. She’s got a mean right hook.”

The table erupted into laughter, and even James couldn’t help but crack a small smile. Somewhere beyond the Great Hall doors, you and Barty were likely making amends, and for the first time, James felt a reluctant sort of peace about it.

He still didn’t like Barty- he probably never would- but he could admit, quietly and only to himself, that the boy made you happy. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black #james potter #james potter x sister!reader #barty crouch jr x you #barty crouch x reader #barty x reader #barty crouch fanfic #barty crouch jr fanfic #barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch junior #barty jr #lily Evans

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igorluvr · 1 month ago

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Can you do some with nam gyu?

‘ HERE WITH ME

PAIRING: nam-gyu x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: when you enter the Squid Games, you encounter a particular group of people, and to your surprise, one of them takes a special liking to you.

CONTENT: heavyyyy fluff, he’s a big softie for u, reader replaces gyeong su oops, love at first sight aww, shy!reader, both fall in love too fast

AUTHORS NOTE: first fic !! i didn’t know what to write abt so i came up with my own plot i hope u enjoyyy !!

word count: [1k]

AFTER the first game, you lost all motivation to keep going. Hours felt like days, eating felt like a chore, and you felt horrible for leaving your little sister alone in the world. You told her it would be just a couple days, that “big sis would be back soon,” but now you knew that you might never reunite—at least not in this lifetime.

Everything felt disgusting. You ran to the bathroom and cried for what felt like hours, feeling like vomiting as you scrubbed the blood and guts off your skin, washing so hard you swore some of the blood was yours. The walk back to your room felt like a death sentence as the smell of bodies grew stronger.

Sitting on your bed, you stared into space, trying to distract your mind from all the carnage. It felt as if the world outside was dead silent, with nothing happening beyond your little bubble. Hunger stabbed at your stomach as everyone else lay asleep. Using the dark, quiet room as an escape, you imagined floating in space, where nothing could hurt you, finally alone with your thoughts and soul.

That peace was abruptly shattered when the lights suddenly blared on, like a siren reminding you of where you were. “Damn,” you thought, “I stayed up the whole night?” The pink-suited guards lined everyone up and loaded them into the colorful hallway, leading to the next game. You weren’t sure if it was due to hunger, lack of sleep, or pure terror, but you felt weak as you walked up the steps, each stomp taking a toll on your body.

You heard from the previous winner that you would be playing dalgona, but when you entered the next room, you were met with two circular rainbows and six lanes. The announcer instructed everyone to form groups of five. Even though you hadn't played many games as a child, it was common sense to know dalgona was not a team game. Had the man lied? Was this really it? You glanced at him, noticing a look of dismay on his face. Maybe he didn’t know either.

As the timer began, everyone formed their groups, leaving you standing alone. The minutes ticked by, and your nervousness grew. You knew waiting for someone to pick you was wrong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak up. Meeting new people had always been tough, and the pressure was tenfold now.

Just as you accepted your fate, a group of four approached you: a tall man with purple hair, a pretty boy with dark, long hair, a girl covered in piercings, and a boy who resembled a baby deer. The man with purple hair introduced himself as Thanos, but you zoned out, fixated on his friend. He stared deeply into your eyes as he fiddled with his rings. You tried to avoid eye contact, but every time you looked up, he was already watching you.

“Um, hellooooo? You deaf or somethin?” Thanos quipped. You snapped back to reality as he explained he wanted you on his team. You nodded, mainly out of necessity, but agreeing nonetheless.

The teams sat in neat rows, preparing for the games ahead. You overheard conversations about who would play which game, but your new team was strangely silent. Thanos and his friend chatted about a necklace, while the other two focused on the competitors. Your nerves ramped up, and you fidgeted with the sleeves of your jacket. The longer-haired boy suddenly tapped your shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?” he murmured. Usually, you would’ve said you were okay, but in this situation, what was the point of lying? You shook your head, and concern washed over his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly. All you could do was shrug. Suddenly, he took your hands and kissed them gently. The warmth spread across your face, leaving you feeling flushed and exposed. Did he know how his words affected you? Were you developing feelings in a place like this?

“It’s all gonna be okay, darling, I promise,” he reassured you. Just then, the girl beside you, Se-mi, interrupted.

“Hey, how about instead of drooling over her, we figure out our games?” she scoffed. You watched as Nam-gyu shot her a venomous glare, transforming his expression entirely.

“Nobody was talking to you, bitch,” he spat, his sudden coldness making your mind whirl. Why was he hostile with her yet soft with you?

As if nothing had happened, he turned back to you. “Which game are you best at, sweetheart?” You barely whispered your answer: “Um... gong-gi, I think.” He immediately understood, and soon after, your team’s games were decided.

Se-mi would play ddakji first, Min-su would follow with flying stone, you’d go next with gong-gi, Nam-gyu would play spinning top, and Thanos would go last with jegi.

When your team was called, fear washed over you. As your knees weakened, you felt Nam-gyu squeeze your shoulder. “Don’t worry, baby, you’re gonna do great.” His words bolstered your confidence more than you could admit.

Each game passed swiftly, and your team finished with eight seconds to spare. As you crossed the finish line, Nam-gyu launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around your waist, making you bounce with excitement. You were enveloped in his scent, overpowering the stench of blood around you. The touch of his hands melted away your worries, and for a moment, you felt truly safe.

As you walked back to the rooms, a smile formed on your lips. Was he genuinely interested in you?

When you settled into bed, a few moments of silence were interrupted by the sound of the bed creaking beside you.

"You did sooo good in gong-gi. Your hands were literally moving like a ninja" he praised, beaming with admiration. You giggled, "It was nothing, really."

He crawled closer, intertwining his fingers with yours, you loved this habit he’d picked up. “I’m so proud of you. You looked nervous, but you pushed through and helped us win,” Nam-gyu chuckled. You responded with nothing but a shy smile; words didn’t feel like enough. You turned your face the other way so he wouldn't see how much his words affected you

“Don’t hide your pretty face, you’re cute when you smile,” he said, fingers lifting your chin to meet his gaze. The compliment made you smile brightly.

“There she is—there’s my girl,” he added, inching closer until he was almost spooning you. You melted against him, relieved to have someone to stay beside in this chaos. As time passed, nothing else mattered. It was unlike how time slowed before, this time it was a comfortable passing. His hand played with your hair, scratching your scalp in a soothing rhythm.

“You remember how nervous you were when you first went up to play?” he asked, his voice low and playful. “You were a disaster, but it was the most adorable disaster I’ve ever seen.”

You chuckled softly, warmth pooling in your chest and comfortability blooming. “You were just as bad, you dropped the spinning top across the floor”

“Well, I had to make sure you didn't feel alone in your clumsiness,” he teased, his breath tickling your ear. The closeness felt intoxicating, and you turned your head slightly to catch a glimpse of him.

“You’d better not mess up like that again. You’re the only person here I actually like” you said, nudging him with your shoulder.

His gaze softened for a bit, like he was admiring you, then quickly flashed back. “Only if you promise to stay by my side forever,” he replied, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Always,” you whispered, feeling an undeniable connection grow between you.

As the laughter settled, the world around you faded into the background, like you were in your own little bubble. He leaned in closer, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead that sent a shiver down your spine.

“When we get out, I’m gonna take you to my club so we can have a proper party together, get you out of that shell” he suggested, a grin spreading across his face. “Yea?”

“Yea, I’d like that, just make sure those girls aren’t all over you” you replied, smiling against him playfully.

“Oh don’t worry, Imma show you all off. Everyone’s gonna know you’re mines.” He chuckled, proceeding to place a soft kiss on your cheek.

The more than friendly banter made your heart swell, and you cuddled into his side, feeling a fuzzy warmth. You could see a future painted vividly in your mind—one filled with laughter, love, and euphoria.

Soon, you both fell asleep in each other’s arms, wrapped in a sense of warmth and possibility. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, hope flickered in your heart, igniting the feeling that maybe, against all odds, you could find light in this dark world together. In that moment, everything felt right, and you couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else but here—with him.

#squid game #squid game 2 #nam gyu #nam gyu x reader #player 124 #player 124 x reader #choi su bong #thanos x reader #kang dae ho #kang dae ho x reader #nam gyu fluff

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