#it was the fact that they KNEW she was trying to be better and instead of explaining the situation and asking if it was okay.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cryptic-doe · 1 day ago

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𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗲 ❦

wc: 4,164

summary: life changes and more feelings arise, but that doesn't change you and sam

warnings: cursing, smut (mdni), heavy make out, dry humping, coming in pants, sub sam, just horny and in love teens

when you woke the next morning, sam was still asleep beside you. your thoughts drifted to his quiet admission of love to you last night, but you didn’t dwell on it for too long. fear that if you did, or even worse, asked him about it, it would only scare him away again. so, instead, you admired him as he slept, taking in all of him. he was so… beautiful. there was no other way for you to describe it, it was just a simple fact. he may have been as large as a moose, but he had the grace and beauty of a deer. you remembered that’s what you compared him to when you first met him. eyes as large and wide as a baby deer. it seems that aging a couple years didn’t take that from him. you hoped it never would. your eyes then dropped down to his lips that are slightly parted, soft breaths falling between them. while sam was gone, you never kissed another boy. didn’t let another boy touch you. to be fair, sam never touched you, either. at least, not the way you wanted him to. slowly, sam began to shift around in your bed, stirring awake. his head turned towards you, searching for your eyes. “good morning,” he said, voice laced with sleep. “morning,” you replied in a whisper. he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying his best to stretch in your small bed. “what do you wanna do today? celebrate your birthday early?” he questioned, pulling you closer. “today…? what about your dad? don’t you have to go back to him with dean?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed.

the boy just shrugged, as if not worried about the situation. “dean already knows about me staying with you for the day. besides, my dad doesn’t matter right now, bug. today’s all about you,” he said simply. “but-” you began, but he cut you off with a finger pressed against your lips. “no ‘buts’, okay? lemme do this for you. i wanna have at least today with you. and if he gets mad, fuck him.” his words make you smile, so similar to the ones marie had said to you all those months ago. his hazel eyes dance across your face, watching as you smile. “you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he muttered. you blush, hiding your head in his chest. “shut up.”

he laughs softly, running his fingers through your hair. “no, i’m serious. i didn’t think it was even possible, considering how pretty you looked when we were younger.” if you had told your fourteen year old self that sam winchester would be in her bed, complimenting her, and holding her close, she definitely would’ve looked at you like you were insane. you stayed close to his chest, breathing him in. he smelled like cinnamon and cedarwood, with just a hint of gunpowder. he tapped you on the shoulder. “c’mon, pretty girl. let’s go get some breakfast, yeah?” you nodded and sat up on your bed, stretching your limbs as he pulled you to stand.

he didn’t let go of your hand while the two of you walked down the stairs and to the kitchen. bobby sat at the table eyeing the two of you, but mostly sam. “you want cereal, bug?” sam asked. you just nodded, not straying far from him.

“you two didn’t do anything up there last night, did ya?” bobby suddenly asked. your eyes widened at his question, and sam nearly dropped the carton of milk. “bobby!” you exclaimed, but the older man just shrugged. “no, we went to you with a stern, but soft look in his eyes. “you doing okay?” he mouthed. you nodded, sending him a soft smile. “i’m okay. promise.”

you could tell he was still a bit wary, but some of his tension melted away. sam placed the cereal bowl in front of you, taking the seat beside you. bobby turned his attention from you to sam, sending him that stern, fatherly look. “i wanna talk to you, boy,” he said, standing up from his seat. sam knew better than to try and argue, so he stood and followed bobby out to the living room. they were just far enough that you couldn't hear much of their conversation.

“i could slap you upside your head, boy,” bobby muttered at sam. despite sam being over a head taller than the man, he felt like a little kid being scolded, again. “i can't believe that stunt you pulled. leaving her for nearly a whole damn year?”

“yeah, i… i know, bobby. i’m sorry,” sam said.

“what could have even possessed you to do something like that?”

sam then explained what he told you the night before. everything having to do with his dad, and him not allowing sam to call you anymore. by the end, bobby couldn’t wait until he would see the winchester father face to face to share some words. “if that ever happens again, sam, you call me. understand that? without you… she nearly lost herself. i can't see her like that again.”

sam nodded, jaw set and firm. “it won’t, bobby, i promise.”

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ ʚଓ་༘࿐

after breakfast, sam told you to get yourself ready. when you asked why, he just kissed your cheek and said that it was a surprise. you thumbed through all the clothes in your closet twice. nothing seemed to really call your name. until your eyes landed on the brown dress you bought last year. you hit a growth spurt since then, so you weren’t even sure if it would still fit you, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

it fell just above your knees, so you slipped on a pair of low rise jeans under it. you recently saw on tv that it was the new fashion trend. you then quickly curled your hair and put on some mascara before grabbing your messenger bag and slipping on your converse. when you walked down the stairs, sam’s back was turned towards you, and you could see that he was wearing an old suit that bobby must've given him. bobby was muttering something about a “stupid tie” and how he “hasn’t done this in years. the sight caused you to stifle a small giggle, which made sam’s head turn towards you.

“wow…” he whispered, eyes wide as he watched you walk down the stairs. you blushed, ducking your head. he bent his head, trying to catch your eyes. “you ready to go?” you nodded. he headed towards the front door, opening it for you. before you followed, you turned to bobby, hugging him. he hugged you back, before pulling you away to look at you. “just like your mom. so beautiful.”

he pressed a kiss to your temple while squeezing your shoulders. “you have fun today, alright?”

“i will,” you promised, before stepping out with sam.

when you showed sam where your car was, he let out a small laugh. “just like dean, huh? you and your muscle cars. you shrugged, tossing him your keys. “they're badass.” he just shook his head and opened the passenger door for you. once you were inside, he hopped into the driver’s side. while he was adjusting everything, a small photo fell from the visor. he picked it up to read the date on the back. may 2nd, 1999. when he turned it over, it was faded picture of you and sam from his sixteenth birthday. even though it was only last year, it felt like the both of you had changed so much. grew older, looked different, matured, everything.

“i always kept it with me,” you admitted in a small whisper. “it’s the only picture i had with the two of us in it.”

“well, guess we’ll have to take a few more, huh?” he looked over at you with a smile.

“i guess so.” you smiled back at him. it was the most you had smiled in a while.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ ʚଓ་༘࿐

sam took you to a town about an hour away, assuring you he didn’t mind the drive. most of the drive was filled with the two of you talking about anything and everything. he told you how john was becoming angrier by the day, and drinking more by the night. you squeezed the hand he kept glued to your thigh in understanding. he also told you about all the different high schools he and dean had been to. you liked those stories the most. it was interesting to learn what a high school was like and the typical high school experiences from someone else and not from books or television. when he asked you about your schooling, you told him how you had finished earlier this year and he gently squeezed your thigh. “that’s amazing, bug! are you gonna go to college?” he asked, turning to look at you and then back at the road. “probably not,” you said. “i like staying at home and doing research on the monsters.” he nodded his head, but his eyes shifted and his body became tense, like there was something he was keeping to himself. “what about you?” you questioned. “do you plan on going to college after this year?”

he hesitated for a second, but then nodded his head. “uh, yeah, i’ve been looking into it. all my counselors and teachers say i could get into a really good school if i wanted to. but dean and my dad don’t know. they- they can’t know.”

“hey,” you said gently, grabbing his hand to hold it, “it’ll be between us. and, i’m happy for you. if you do decide to go.”

he opened his mouth to argue, but you silenced him. “sam, i’m serious. if going to college is what you want, then you should go. besides, they got really fancy computers there. i’m sure we can do video calls or something.” he laughed softly, deciding to drop it for now, even though he wanted to do anything but. he wasn’t gonna ruin your special day.

and just like he promised, the day was all about you. he took you to a record shop, buying you all the records you had chosen. he even attempted to buy all the ones you just touched, and you had to practically pry them away from him. “nothing is too much for you, pretty girl,” he tried to argue, but you ended up winning that argument. he then took you to a bookstore where you spent most of your time. following you around like a lost puppy, while he silently held all your books in his hands. afterwards, he took you to a small diner, ordering some food, and a large chocolate milkshake to share. the two of you silently ate your food, until he spoke up. “i don’t know if i told you, but i really like your dress. it’s pretty on you.”

“thanks,” you muttered shyly. “i actually bought it for my sixteenth birthday. i thought it matched… it reminded me of you. that’s why i bought.” he looked at you with that sad puppy gaze, sliding his hand across the table to grab yours. “i’m sorry, again. i should’ve been there for your sixteenth like you were there for mine.”

you squeezed his hand tighter, shaking off his apologies. “it’s okay, sam, really. you’re here now.” that’s all that matters.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ ʚଓ་༘࿐

it’s already dark outside when you and sam get back to your house. bobby seems to already be fast asleep, as there’s no lights on. sam carries all your bags as you pull out your house key from your purse. he brings them all the way up to your room, laying them on your bed. he turns towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you close. “i had a really fun time with you today,” he whispered.

“i did too. thank you for all of this.”

“you deserve it, bug. all of it and more.” he swallows, taking a deep breath. “i’m sorry i have to leave tonight. i wanted to spend more time with you.”

“it’s okay, sammy. i understand, really. all of this was more than enough for me,” you assured, squeezing his biceps.

“then let me leave you with one more thing, okay?” he offered. you nodded as he started leaning down to kiss your lips. the kiss was sweet and slow, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he slowly began to kiss you with more passion. your hands trailed up his arms to hold the sides of his neck, feeling the smooth skin beneath your palms. you could feel him straining as if he was trying to hold himself back. you pull back just enough to talk, and he chases after your lips. “don’t,” you whispered.

“don’t what?” he asked, chest heaving.

“don't hold back.”

and those were all the words he needed. when he dove back in, it was more passion filled. as he kissed you, he walked you over to your bed until your knees hit the back of your frame. without breaking the kiss, you wrapped your fingers around the lapel of his jacket, tugging him onto the bed with you. you pulled away again, pushing at his jacket.

“off,” you commanded, and he immediately followed. he struggled to pull it off, but once he did, he threw it somewhere behind him.

he then dropped his head to your shoulder, pressing a small kiss to the junction of your neck. he then pressed another right under your ear, and then lightly kissed down your jaw. you tilted your head back, giving him more access. he gently bit down on the side of your neck, before licking the mark. you let out a moan at the unexpected feeling and slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself. you could feel how the sound affected him as his bulge grew against the inside of your thigh. and you may have been inexperienced, but shit, did he feel big.

your hips uncontrollably jolt against his, and your core presses against his cock. the sensation of the pressure and clothing between you make you both shiver and moan. you grab ahold of his chin, and move his head up to kiss him. his hands hold up his weight and find their place beside the sides of your head. your nails drag down the sides of his neck, not enough to make him bleed, but enough to leave a mark. and sam winchester fucking whimpers when you do so.

the sound acts like a key to unlocking something inside you, as you wrap your legs around his hips, flipping him over. the kiss doesn’t stop once, and sam could’ve come from how assertive you seemed. the confidence then fell, causing you to pull away and breathe. “i’ve never… i’m a virgin,” you blurted.

“i am too,” he responded. “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

you shook your head. “no, no, i want to. i just… i don’t think i can go all the way.”

“that’s okay, pretty girl, that’s okay,” he assured. “here, let’s do this.” you slid off of him, watching as he moved up to sit against your head. he gestured for you to come closer, and you did, sitting down on his lap. his hands found their place on your waist. “this okay?” he asked, and you nodded.

when you began to kiss again, your hips slowly grinded down onto his bulge, making him moan into your mouth. the room feels warmer and it makes your clothes stick to your skin. a warm and buzzing feeling begins to grow in your belly, making your toes curl. you pulled back, looking him in the eyes. “i-i think i’m close,” you muttered.

“me too,” he huffed. he dropped his head to your neck, and you could feel his hot breath fanning against your skin. he let out a small mewl when you grinded harder against him. “god, y/n, i love you. i love you so fucking much.”

those words were all that you seemingly needed when you could feel the coil snap inside you, biting down hard on your bottom lip to quiet your moaning. sam followed shortly after, as he slowly grew limp against you. his bangs stuck to his forehead from all the sweat gathering there, and you pushed them back. his met yours and they seemed even softer than before. he looked at you like you hung the moon stars. like you were the answer to every question he ever had. like… like you were the love of his life.

“i love you too,” you admitted. “i think i’ve loved you ever since i met you.”

he smiled at that, holding the back of your neck to pull you down, and press your forehead against his. “me too, bug.”

“so… does this mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?” you asked softly.

“i think so,” he replied. “do you want us to be.”

“i’d like that a lot, baby.” the nickname falls from your lips accidentally, yet feels like it should’ve been there all along. it makes sam feel all tingly inside and he leans up to kiss you again when he hears a car horn beep twice.

you could feel your heart drop at the sound, knowing his visit was over. “i’ll walk you out,” you whispered, and he just solemnly nodded.

you bent down to grab his jacket, and slipped it on him. then fixing his tie and hair to make him look presentable. he does the same for you, combing his fingers through your hair. the walk down the hallway and stairs is silent. not out of guilt or regret, but in contentment. the acts committed changed everything, yet nothing at all. you guys didn't go all the way, yeah, but this was still something that the two of you shared and would treasure. once outside, you could see that it was only dean in the car, which you were grateful for.

you wouldn't want john to see sam like this, and you don’t think you could control your emotions if you ever faced the man. “give me one second,” you said, before walking in the house to grab a marker. you walked back over to him and grabbed his hand, writing your number on it. “there. that way you can text me when you miss me.”

he hugged you, holding you tight to his chest. “i love you, pretty girl,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. he reluctantly pulled away, looking at you longingly as he began to walk away.

“baby, wait,” you called out. he turned around. “yeah?”

you grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a real kiss. “i love you, too,” you said once you pulled away. “and stay safe.” he squeezed your hand three times. “i always do, pretty girl.”

you watched as he walked away from you, waving at him as he slipped into the passenger seat of the impala. you didn’t head back into the house until the car was completely out of sight, the only remnants left behind was the dust it kicked up. walking back up the stairs, it didn’t feel heavy like the last time he left. this time was different.

you didn’t even change out of your old clothes when you laid down on your bed. the room smelled of sam, and it calmed you down, already pulling you into sleep when a buzz came from your phone. rolling over, you grabbed it from your nightstand and opened the message. it was from an unknown number, but you knew exactly who it was.

“i miss you already, pretty girl :(”

you smiled as you texted back, “i miss you too, baby”

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ ʚଓ་༘࿐

as the year passes by, sam keeps his promise. he video calls you on your birthday, and blows out a candle on a cupcake that he bought for the occasion. after that, he calls and texts you almost every single day. sometimes it’s long conversations, while other times it’s just a simple ‘good morning’ and ‘good night.’ it doesn’t have to be a grand gesture, you just have to know that he’s still *here* and that he cares. when the old nightmares haunt you, you don’t have to deal with them alone. you can just call sam. it doesn’t matter what time it is, because he’ll pick up everytime.

he visited on his eighteenth birthday with dean, but it’s only for a few hours. it didn’t matter to you, though. because it was the first time you saw him since early october. you gift him another book for his birthday. this time, it’s an annotated book of frankenstein. “it’s my favorite, so i wanted you to carry a piece of me everywhere you go.” that same night, dean takes a new picture of the two of you. it’s sam laughing with cake smushed all over his face, while you’re kissing him on the cheek. you put that one in your car alongside the old one.

you don’t see him again until august, but this time, the visit’s unexpected.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ ʚଓ་༘࿐

when sam came to your home, it was almost eleven o’clock at night, and bobby was already sleeping. he doesn’t knock on your front door, he climbs up to your fucking window like some fairytale prince. when he knocks, it jolts and makes you reach for the knife under your pillow. but when you see that it’s sam, you turn down the volume of your fiona apple record and walk to open your window. “baby? what happened?” you asked. he doesn’t respond as he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes. you climb through your window, sitting down beside him on the roof. “do you wanna talk about it?”

he grabs your hand, rubbing his thumb across your scar. “it's my dad. he found out about the whole college thing. he didn't take it too well, and… well, he kicked me out. said if i wanted to leave, then i should stay gone,” he explained.

you shifted closer, knees touching. “oh, baby, i’m so sorry.”

he shrugged. “it’s no big deal. i figured he would react that way, it just, still kinda hurts, you know.” you nodded silently. “i hopped on the first bus i could to see you before i left. the school year starts soon and i have to travel all the way to california and i don’t know how long it’ll take me.”

“you can take my car,” you offered, but he shook his head.

“bug, i’m not taking your car. bobby built that for you, i’m not gonna take it from you.”

you moved closer, now resting your head on his shoulder. “i just want you to get there safely.”

he rubbed your arm to warm you, as you were only dressed in an oversized tee. “i know you do, but i’ll still be safe. i always am.”

“you know… you could come with me,” sam said after a few minutes. “i can find an apartment close to the campus, and we can live together.”

“sam… i would go with you. and you know that, but i can’t just leave bobby in the middle of the night like that. he’s done too much for me in my life for me to leave him like that.”

sam sighed, but didn’t argue. he knew you had a point, but he still wanted you to be close by. “besides, it’s only a day drive. i can drive to visit you on the weekends, or something,” you reassured.

“i’d like that,” he muttered. “hold on, wait here.”

you watch him go into your bedroom and grab something, before joining you back outside. he now has your digital camera in hand. “sam, what are you doing with that?”

“nothing, bug, just taking a picture of you.”

“a picture of me? for what?” you asked with a soft laugh. “to keep with me,” he replies, looking at you with a ‘duh’ expression.

you playfully rolled your eyes, but complied with what he wanted. you fixed your hair and smiled at the camera as the flash went off. “perfect,” he said, looking at the picture. “i’ll print it before i leave in the morning.”

you grab his hand, pulling towards your bedroom. “let’s lay down, okay?” he follows after you, laying down beside you. his hand rests on your hip, rubbing his thumb across the exposed skin of your thigh.

“i’m gonna miss you,” he whispered.

“i’m gonna miss you too, but you can always call me when you do.”

“you know that that’s gonna be everyday, right?” he asks with a laugh.

“yeah, i know. i’ll make sure to keep my phone charged, then.”

he laughs again, pulling you to his chest. he breathes in the smell of your lavender shampoo, savoring it until he can be with you again.

“i love you so much, pretty girl.”

“i love you too, smart boy.”

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a/n: omg, second to last chapter and i'm already feeling so emotional about this series. i just love them sm and i'm gonna cry when i stop writing for them. if the smut is bad.. i'm sorry. i'm so bad at writing it bro omg. but i hope you guys still love, and lmk if u want to be tagged in any of my works in the future !! <333

taglist: @sacr1ficialang3l @mostlymarvelgirl @hobiespick @iloveyou2mia

#weird girl!reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x weird girl!reader #sam winchester x you #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester smut

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narrative-driven-off-a-cliff · 3 days ago

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I shouldn't be responding to this. I know better than to fuel internet arguments. But this is just too much.

I am a white person who grew up in an INCREDIBLY diverse community. My school had an equal mix of white and latino people (I'm not sure of many of their identities, but I once called my friend hispanic and he immediately called himself Mexican, and I do know that many of our classmates were of the same descent). Many of the 'white' kids I grew up with were children of European immigrants: Ukrainian, Polish,Russian, etc. And I knew many MENA kids as well.

My point being, I know diversity better than I know the mostly-white community I currently live in. In fact, it makes me mad uncomfortable to be here because I grew up with more stereotypes of white people than America-born white people.

When I use AAVE, I use the language that I grew up with. You don't know ANYTHING about me. But if you see a skimpy little white girl saying "Aight" or saying she has "beef" with someone, or,PERISH THE THOUGHT, saying "ahh" instead of swearing because she doesn't want to swear but needs to communicate an idea, then you're going to assume I'm racist, ignorant, or just another dumb white girl.

The point here isn't that I'm offended. I don't CARE what you think of me. The point is that when I am genuinely trying to reconnect with the diverse groups of people that I grew up with, or trying to connect to a mix of cultures that is more real to me than the culture my skin says I belong to, I am shut off. How on earth are we supposed to achieve anything in the name of racial equality if we are nitpicking and judging the ones who are willing and able to fight?

Is AAVE Gen Z slang alone? No. But the influence that AAVE has had on our modern day vernacular cannot be overstated. Sure, it sucks that something important to a group of people is being misused, but AAVE is not sacred - it's words that are meant to be said. If we really want to talk about sacred, we should stop using the Lord's name in vain, considering how instrumental Christian religion has been to African Americans throughout history (and before you talk about how it was forced on slaves, any gospel singer will tell you that the black community has reclaimed this religion and made it their own). As a Christian, am I upset about people who aren't Christian using My God's name in vain? Absolutely! But what do I care about more: people being good, right, and pure; or people seeing me as a safe place where they don't have to be judged?

If you are policing people who misuse AAVE, I know that your language is important to you. But is this really the hill you want to die on? Are the African Americans in your community HOUSED? are they well fed? Do they have the opportunity to receive a good education, job training, healthcare?

My white ahh can't deal with this crap smh

#aave #aave appropriation #sorry i know i got fired up #but nearly every measure to block off the “black” parts of modern day culture #looks more like segregation than activism

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lanternlightss · 4 months ago

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(with a corkboard behind me, red strings all around it) no okay listen there are so many similarities between nameless bard and amos,

#im always stuck on the fact that they were the two to have died out of the crew #why THEM !!#bc like !!!#they were both probably very good mediators #bard not only bc of the bard thing . to battle people with your words instead #but amos probably . had access to meetings with others . the queen standing at the king’s side #hell i wouldnt be surprised if in the beginning deca told her of some of it #she’s gotten used to how people try to alter their words. how careful they are speaking with her. what they try to say without fully #speaking of it. hidden #AND !#they are probably the kinds of people to finish something even if it comes at the detriment of themselves #phoenixes #they will do everything they can. they will sink their claws in and dig until this is over. because it has to.#someone has to be the one to bear the burden’s #>> frosted exterior but i think it’s telling they never got to fully leave it #they never got the chance to melt ……. to warmth :(#bard and staining his hands bc it’s all for the greater good #amos and leaving behind everything she once knew. tearing it to shreds with her own hands #it’s this way they can only make the future better #a silent calculating of how much is there to lose #a silent understanding that theyve made their graves #a silent understanding that maybe . they got in over their heads #DOES THIS MAKE SENSE im #(holds my hands out with my index extended) im making connections #bard masks so hard with people’ing also I fear /lh #so does amos #to Me #they who are more familiar with that of otherworldly than their own…. yknow #bards Good with people don’t get me wrong but he needs a minute afterwards….#lantern says stuff

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oceanwithouthermoon · 2 years ago

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okay i just put this in the tags of a different post but now i have to put it in another post so i can talk about it more <3

celestia and luna : kusuo and kusuke is NOT a cut and dry comparison and neither of them fit one or the other perfectly.. for the most part, kusuo is celestia and kusuke is luna (kusuke lashing out because he thinks kusuo is better than him, that things are easier for kusuo, kusuo not understanding, etc etc.) but the problem with that by itself is that that goes BOTH ways in almost the same exact way, the biggest difference is in how they cope with it all.. kusuo also sees himself in luna A LOT, but unlike kusuke he keeps his issues bottled up and never once takes it out on him.. he competes back to kusuke, especially when they were kids, but for the most part he doesnt WANT to and only does it because either 1) kusuke tries to make him feel inferior or 2) kusuke BRIBES him to do it ???

they both think the other has it better and wish that they could live the others life, and neither of them understand the others struggles (and probably never will fully, but hopefully itll get better for them.)

kusuo definitely watched mlp and thinks of HIMSELF as the luna or the 'nightmare moon' of the two of them because, even though he hasnt ever actually lashed out in that way, he knows how perfectly capable of it he is and he believes himself to be some sort of monster.. and its not really a rational way for him to see things, especially since he doesnt even usually view kusuke in a positive light ? but lunas story just hits home with him that badly..

this is just one reason why i think it sucks that kusuo being "powerless" basically only lasted a weekend, because we totally couldve gotten to see a "celestia and luna switching cutie marks for a day" kind of dynamic between kusuo and kusuke.. obviously not with kusuke having powers, but with him being above kusuo and more powerful than the general human race and realizing that being better than kusuo isnt what he wanted it to be..

and seeing how absolutely depressed and in denial kusuo becomes at first when he starts getting his powers back wouldve hit so much harder for kusuke if it had been a slower realization before kusuo could begin accepting himself again

#he obviously does not actually cry daily about this and it was a silly exaggeration but u cant tell me he hasnt at least once #the nightmare night episode definitely hit home for him #im not gonna go on a full mlp rant but i could talk about that episode for literal hours cuz it pisses me off so much how they treated luna #+how they played it off as a joke and nobody apologized to luna (FUCKING RAINBOW DASH AND PINKIE PIE UR ON MY SHIT LIST FOR THIS EPISODE)#it's definitely how kusuo thinks people would treat him if they knew about his powers #treating him like hes a literal monster but 'its just a silly joke for us to use u at ur expense! its not that serious!'#<-well ok slight correction i dont think that the wanting luna to dcare them thing was bad #it was the fact that they KNEW she was trying to be better and instead of explaining the situation and asking if it was okay..#they treated her like a fucking circus attraction #ABSOLUTELY HOW SOME PEOPLE SEE KUSUO #yeah anyway sorry that was longer than it was supposed to be #that episode and the cutie mark switch episode def hit extra extra hard for him #saiki k #tdlosk #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki kusuo #saiki kusuke #meows post #i should make brony kusuo a tag for my page omg #saiki kusuo loves my little pony canon (<-lying)#brony saiki kusuo #meownalysis

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miajooz · 3 months ago

Text

Lust Quest? ₊˚⊹♡

overview ꨄ Ellie—your girlfriend, was sitting at her desk practically the whole day playing her favorite game. You didn’t mind usually, but the lack of attention was definitely annoying you. After awhile of nagging, she got fed up with you.

warnings ꨄ Ellie is lowkey kinda mean..choking, strap-usage (r!receiving), fingering (!receiving), choking, hair pulling, degrading, dumbfication, deprivation of pleasure, edging, ect! NOT exactly a drabble, IM SORRY GUYS! I GOT CARRIED AWAY.

wc: 5.6k

You’re not exactly sure how you got in this situation. Better yet, where you managed to lose where this situation made sense. Your girlfriend, Ellie, was playing on her PlayStation—like always, it seemed. Ever since you got her that desk sized T.V, she hadn’t been able to peeled herself away from the same thing.

She was playing some sort of zombie game that you actually had no care for, but there was something about the way her fingers moved the joysticks so calculatedly that was so enamoring. Or the way her brow would be furrowed in either annoyance or concentration, the way she’d bite the inside of her bottom lip and breathe heavier—it was so hot.

Everything about Ellie was hot, everything she did put you in a trance you found yourself stuck in at every waking minute. Even your unawake moments—she lived there, taking over your mind as if she had the right to.

The only downside was how focused she got on the game. You’d be trying to have an actual conversation with her, and she’d be shooting a zombie in some hotel basement, complaining and groaning. It was irritating to say the least, you only really managed when she’d let you sit on her lap—as long as you promised to stay still, that is. But even in that position, you found yourself feeling envious of a gaming controller. The way both hands were gripping it tightly, the way she’d tighten her grip when she got angry. You missed when your thighs would be her stress relief toy.

What a low blow, where had your self worth gone?

Even though she’d squeeze your thigh as if it was the only thing keeping her sane, or burry her face in your neck and groan frustratedly—it wasn’t enough. You still couldn’t stay still, you still couldn’t help but squirm and sigh in annoyance when her eyes would be trained on the screen in front of her instead of her literal girlfriend.

You complained, you whined, you didn’t stay still, you didn’t stay quiet—but she seemed so unfazed. That only made you try harder, stubbornness was a two-way problem in this relationship.

Your complaining didn’t go unnoticed, though, she’d usually brush it off and laugh—but not this time.

That’s how you ended up in this situation. Ellie had pushed her gracefully gifted T.V closer to the wall before slamming you down on the desk. The impact forced a sharp yelp from your throat, along with multiple figures, comics, and whatever other shit she had on her desk to fall off. The cluttering sound of things falling didn’t faze her, she just looked at you with narrowed eyes and an agitated expression.

“Baby, do you know what staying still means?” she asked, her voice was so condescending. It was as if she was talking to you like you were stupid—maybe because she knew you would be in a few minutes. You were always left hazy when she was done with you, even you were painfully aware of that fact.

“I’d stay still if you actually paid attention to me. Do I have to get on my knees and plead for basic attention?” you spat, equally as angry. It was unknown if it was the anger or the heavy sexual tension that made the room feel so tense—most likely the latter.

“Oh, please. You get plenty of attention, you just don’t like when my focus is on something other than you.” she argued, the way she was running her hand up your thigh was a stark contrast to her bitter tone.

You knew it was true, she showered you in attention and affection. Even in her more distant moments, you could see how hard she tried. Yet, it was still so frustrating when she focused so hard on something other than you, something that wasn’t even real, pixels on the T.V you bought her.

“You’re so infuriating, Ellie. You speak as if I’m some kind of attention whore.” it was as if your whole comment got ignored—at least for a moment. Ellie placed her calloused, rough hands under your thighs and yanked you towards her. A strained gasp left your throat from the force, it was nerve wracking; but arousing in away.

“Not far from it, sweetheart.” she murmured, ensuring your legs were wrapped around her waist securely before starting to kiss up your neck. Making sure she was in her rightful place between your thighs. “Look how you act when you’re not the center of attention.” You scoffed and tried to shoot her a dirty look, but she was clearly occupied. She kissed along your jawline in a way that made you feel wanted for the first time that day. The pecks you received seemed almost forced, but not reluctant. It was as if she was forcing herself to be gentle with you.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around her, tracing them up and down her back softly. There was no desire for roughness on your end, it was really only attention you wanted. You wanted more of her hands, more of her kisses, more of everything.

Ellie continued, the wet kisses she left were making your spine tingle. So passionate, but so angry. She bit down on your neck particularly hard, earning her a small hiss—you could feel the way her lips curled upwards against your neck. She sucked the sore part of your neck softly, almost teasingly. It was teasing in the way that it was as if it was a wordless apology for her roughness; but you knew better than that.

Ellie pulled away for a brief moment, making eye contact with you again. She kneaded the plush of your thighs in her hand like they were pillows, in a way that felt like they belonged to her. They did in a way, they looked so pretty in her hands, or wrapped around her waist, or around her head when she ate you out.

One of Ellie’s hands slid up to your inner thigh, her eyes still trained on you—watching you, piercing your irises with hers. It was as if she was taking apart your soul and searching for any remorse, or maybe she was just searching for any other reaction besides annoyance. She was finding it for sure, you were an open book. A small smirk crept up onto her lips when she looked at you, all you could do was gulp and furrow your eyebrow in response.

“Is this all you need to stay still, baby? You need me to wear you out?” she questioned, her expression was twisted into one of almost mock pity. The tone in her voice was so condescending, so mean. “That’s fine, just stay still and be good, yeah?”

Regardless—you ate it up. You were practically drooling when she spoke to you that way, and she knew it.

Ellie’s hands slid a bit further, moving to the left a bit to press against your clothed cunt—with far more pressure than necessary. You writhed under her hand, desperately searching for friction but also just feeling so twitchy from the sudden contact.

“Ellie, come on..” you urged, trying to rut your hips against her hand, in an act to chase friction and pleasure but also to convince her to actually please you. Ellie seemed unsatisfied by this act, she immediately pulled her hand away and placed it roughly on your hip, keeping you in place. When you still tried to wiggle, she brought her other hand up to your throat.

Your breath hitched—fuck, she was so hot it was painful. The way she eyed you made you want to melt in her hands.

“Do you not know what ‘stay still’ means? I don’t think you’re dumb, are you?” she asked, though it was more of a mocking thing than a question.

“I’ll give you what you want, but since you were such a fucking brat you have to wait.” her tone was so harsh, her hand pressing on your throat as a warning. she wasn’t actually trying to choke you, she just needed that shock factor.

Despite the roughness, you were practically frothing at the mouth, your cunt clenching with every squeeze, every word. The way she scolded you and looked at you in that angry way—it was so alluring. The way her toned bicep would flex when she squeezed your throat, or the way one eyebrow would furrow more than the other.

“Mmh, m’sorry.” you managed to mumble out, looking at her with pleading eyes. it seemed to work, because she did stop squeezing your throat a bit. Her hand lingered there, the one that was holding your hip went to the waistband of your shorts instead.

“You’re not sorry at all, sweetheart.” she tutted, slipping her thumb under the waistband in a slow, torturous manner. “But you’re gonna try and apologize so I’ll be soft with you, right?” it was a rhetorical question, she didn’t want you to answer it. Now both hands were on the lower half of your body, sliding under you to grip your ass. Her hands lingered there, squishing and kneading the flesh roughly.

With a swift motion, Ellie lifted you up a bit and worked both your shorts and panties off, dropping you back onto the desk when she was done. A small yelp left your lips, especially when even more things fell off the desk—this was getting old.

Ellie grabbed your thighs roughly, forcing them open. She eyed you like a piece of meat, but also like a work of art.

Her hands slipped in between your thighs, her fingertips brushing against your wet folds. Her lips curled into a slow, lopsided smirk—the eye contact was making this so much worse. You were so wet you thought you would leak all over her damn desk, your cunt ached with such need that only she could satisfy.

“Fucking soaked, and I thought you wanted me to be soft.” she scoffed, her ring and middle finger moving to your aching clit and tracing soft circles. “Do you like it when I’m mean to you?” she asked, looking at you with a devilish, expectant look in her eye as she worked your clit lazily.

You let out a soft whine in protest, wanting to rut against her fingers but realizing how bad of an idea that was. Her question was left unanswered, you were too busy panting and silently begging for her to give you more.

Ellie was unsatisfied, she pulled away just enough to land a slap on your clit. You cried out, your legs kicking softly in surprise—but not in an attempt to kick her away. She watched as your hole clenched around nothing, her fingers pressing against the wetness softly. “Or don’t answer, that’s fine. But I already know the answer by how wet you are for me.”

Without warning, she shoved her fingers inside your aching cunt. It wasn’t in a rough way, more of an impatient way. but you weren’t ready, especially since she didn’t even start you out with one.

“Ellie!” you cried out, the roughness to her movements was such a turn on. Her fingers moved in slow, scissoring motions, despite the rough start. You could feel her stretching you out, prepping you for something. You could feel your poor pussy stretching to accommodate the abrupt entrance of her fingers.

“Oh I know, baby. Feel good? Atta girl, you’re taking it so well.” she praised, the switches between comfort and degrading were confusing you—that’s exactly what she wanted to happen. “Greedy, look how you’re sucking me in.” she commented playfully, tilting your head down so you could actually watch her fingers working your poor hole. A string of weak whines left you from the sight, both from embarrassment and pleasure.

Ellie just shushed you, her fingers curling inside your warm heat and causing you to squirm a bit. “Shh, you’re fine, sweetheart. You wanted attention, right?” she asked, her eyes locked on yours, holding an almost uncomfortable amount of eye contact. “ Do you think I’m stupid enough to not notice you grinding on my thigh while i’m trying to play a game?” her voice was patronizing, so mean in the way that made you tied between the want to make her angrier or the want to make her softer.

“No..” you mumbled in response, trying to bury your face in her neck. There were wet squelching sounds every time she made a scissoring motion or delved in particularly deeper. You were in heaven, soft moans and pants escaping your throat—desperately looking for something to scramble and cling onto.

Ellie raised an eyebrow, she was unsatisfied, again. Not that she was actually angry—she just liked an excuse to be rough with you. Though that wasn’t too barbaric, you loved it.

She moved her hand up towards your neck again, you knew what was coming. She grabbed the side of it, squeezing a bit harder now. Her thumb was pressing against your trachea with enough pressure that made you feel nervous but turned on all at once.

“No? No what, baby? You can’t be that stupid already, my fingers can’t take away your literacy.” she mocked, it was just a filler question to make you feel stupid—to make you think. There was still that smirk on her face, the smirk that told you she was enjoying this, the smirk that told you how much she liked fingering you and watching you fall apart on something that was strictly hers.

The weak whines and moans that left you only fueled her, her fingers started fucking into you at an unnecessarily rough pace. Ellie wanted to make you see stars, and oh, you would.

When she started fingering you faster, all you could do was weakly grab onto her arms. One hand was on the bicep of the arm in charge of fingering you, while the other was on the one choking you. Your hands practically scrambled there, your thighs shaking and your hands squeezing her biceps as a means to ground yourself.

“Ellie, fuck! No—I don’t think you’re stupid!” you cried out, barely managing to choke out the words between pants and weak moans. The way her fingers were stretching you out was so addictive, you could feel yourself clamping down on them with every thrust, a coil in your stomach tightening unbearably. But she just looked at you, her eyes darting between your pussy sucking in her fingers and the needy expression on your face. Something in her eyes was just so sultry.

Ellie was addicted to the feeling of your walls around her fingers, sucking her as a silent plead for more. It was a beautiful sight, all she could do was let out a soft groan every time she could feel you tighten around her.

“Come on baby, do you wanna cum?” she taunted, a grin still on her face as she watched you fall apart, as her fingers worked your pussy like it was second nature, like she was meant to do it. Like every single thrust of her digits was a silent word, a word of belonging, everything you couldn’t sum your relationship up with in simple words. Like every moan validated how much you belonged to her.

“Beg for it, maybe I’ll be generous.”

And you did.

You nodded feverishly, both hands scrambling to the arm closest to your pussy, squeezing her bicep. “Please, Els! I need it, please just let me cum—shit!” you squeezed your eyes shut, but the pressure on your throat tightened. Your eyes flew open and you let out a weak yelp, in response, she immediately loosened her grip. “I’m..so close!”

You assumed that if you begged she’d she asked you to, she’d let you cum.

You were terribly mistaken.

Ellie watched with a smirk as your back arched, listened as your breathing got a bit deeper. And then as abrupt and as harsh as she started—she pulled her fingers out. You couldn’t believe it at first, your mind was far too clouded by pleasure to even process what happened. But when you came to your senses, you saw her smiling at you innocently—or not so innocently.

Did she seriously deprive you of orgasming even though she made you beg? How cruel.

“What the hell?!” you complained, you could already feel tears prickling in your eyes. You wanted to cum so bad, your cunt was aching so bad it hurt. All the blood had rushed there, making you hyper aware of how horny you actually were. Especially after being worked up like that.

Ellie frowned at you, though it wasn’t in sympathy; more of a mocking frown. “I said maybe I’d let you, are you that brain dead already?” she asked, popping her now sticky fingers into her mouth right in front of you, sucking them clean. “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t realize. I’ll help you think again when we’re done, yeah?”

A weak moan escaped your throat, stray tears streaming down your cheeks. She seemed a bit remorseful, but you couldn’t even think of the fact that could be false too. She stepped back a bit, stroking your hair comfortingly and kissing your forehead. “Stay put, sweetheart.” she commanded softly, before walking over to her nightstand.

Ellie crouched down to second drawer, that was the drawer. You immediately felt hopeful, it was obvious she was getting a toy. Your guess was right, she pulled out a green strap, one she used on you quite often—maybe she liked seeing her favorite color wreck your cunt by her own doing. Then she brought it over to you, setting it between your thighs as a tease, but you weren’t amused.

She quickly discarded her pants, throwing them in the same place she threw your attire beforehand. Ellie’s eyes were on you again, so intimidating but so sexy. You bucked your hips a bit, maybe trying to at least get to touch your clit to the toy near your sopping heat. It didn’t go unnoticed, though, Ellie immediately picked the strap back up and held it. There was a knowing smile on her face, it only grew when she brought the strap to your lips.

“Suck.” is all she said—plain and simple but direct in the most sensible way she could be. With slightly furrowed eyebrows and teary eyes, you opened your mouth. Ellie watched the way your tongue lolled out, immediately pushing the silicone into your mouth.

Weak groans escaped you as she pushed it further, your throat now struggling to accommodate the entrance.

“Open up your throat, baby.” she coaxed, moving to rub your neck softly. You bobbed your head up and down since she held it at an angle, looking at her through your eyelashes.

Ellie let out a groan, her hand moving from your throat to your face. She cupped both your cheeks, making you groan and stop bobbing your head. “Your lips look so pretty when you’re wrapped around things. Both lips are the same, i guess” she joked.

You actually laughed at that, causing you to gag on the silicone into your throat. She pulled it out after that, her eyes sparkling at the sight of drool connecting your lips to the toy. She needed to be inside you, she needed it now.

She immediately worked to slip it on, she was so used to the act of doing so it took little to no time at all. A shiver ran down your spine at the sight, it was ridiculous to be so experienced at putting. a fucking strap on.

Ellie didn’t immediately start ravaging you, which was unusual for her. She was never exactly known as a patient person, especially when it came to the idea of watching you squirm.

Instead, she plopped back down on her chair, her eyes looking up at you with a deep, sultry hint in her eyes. She simply smiled and patted her lap, beckoning you towards her with her pointer and middle finger. “C’mere, baby. ‘You wanna ride me?”

That was probably the sexist thing you had ever seen. Damn.

You were quick to hop off the desk, your legs trembling with sheer need. Arousal webbing between your thighs in a way that made you feel filthy. The whole room felt heavier, as if your clouded mind was contagious to the world around you.

Within seconds you were hovering over Ellie’s lap, your eyes darting between the strap and her naturally alluring eyes. She grabbed your hips softly, guiding you closer until the tip was splitting your folds apart like it was separating rose petals. With a gentle hold on you, she softly eased you down further. Your teeth clenched together a bit as you sank down onto the object, immediately clamping down on it tightly with both relief and slight spurn.

“Mmh, Ellie..” is all you could manage, your head tilting back a bit so you could sigh. She held your hips still, letting you adjust—or so you thought. Usually she’d start you off, bouncing you up and down in a way that had you questioning how much she likes maneuvering you and all your life choices.

But not this time, she simply held you still.

Even when you tried to do it yourself, thinking that’s what she wanted to see—she held you still. You immediately got antsy, the aching in your cunt couldn’t be ignored, it was throbbing with need. You were so horny, one more antic away from leaving to finish yourself off in the bathroom.

“Ellie, please? Why aren’t you letting me move?” you questioned, your voice was pleading but also a bit irritated. The way you just sat there with her strap inside you was torturous, you were sure your pussy would clamp so hard you wouldn’t be able to move if she let you.

“I don’t know, Do you deserve it?” Ellie asked, a sardonic and sarcastic tint in her tone.

How cruel was she? She already ripped an orgasm away from you and now she was denying you any pleasure? All because you nagged her for attention.

“..What?” you managed, your breathing a bit labored. With desperation, your hips tried to buck forwards and up and down and deeper—everywhere. But Ellie didn’t even let you move an inch, keeping your hips firmly situated.

This was absolute torture. Your eyes immediately prickled with tears again from sheer need.

“Do you deserve it? It’s a simple question, baby. I know you’re not that stupid.” she teased, tilting her head at you. “C’mon, my baby is so much better than that.”

You were dumbfounded, blinking at her with confusion and desperation as tears streamed down your face. Ellie offered you a pouty frown—though it was so obviously bullshit.

“Awh, baby. Don’t cry, maybe if you apologize I’ll be nice.” she suggested, her voice clearly hinting at you to act on that.

“Apologize? Why?” you asked, but you knew damn well why. Silently, you cursed yourself for dragging this conversation on instead of just apologizing. Your poor hole was throbbing so bad, it almost felt good—almost.

Ellie had such a condescending smirk on her face, but everytime you looked at her you’d clench around the strap. “Well, do you want to cum? I could make it so much worse if you don’t wanna cum..” she said, trailing her hands up and down your lower back, squeezing your ass, “You know, keep you all still for longer. I could just sit here and mold you around me.”

A weak noise crawled out of your throat, you immediately shook your head feverishly. “No, Els! I’m sorry for nagging you so much, please—please, I wanna cum!” you pleaded, a few stray tears spilling from your eyes.

Fortunately for you, Ellie seemed satisfied. She slid her hands back up to your hips, adjusting her grip on you. With that, she started bouncing you up and down at a slow pace. It was tortuously slow, but relief crashed over your body when you finally felt something.

“Good girl, see how easy it is?” she praised, which was obviously sarcastic again. She kept you going at a slow pace, bringing your hips down deep—but not deep enough. bringing you forward a bit to just barely brush against the devastating spot inside you—but still not enough. she practically had your body mapped out, something she took personal pride in.

This was torture for you, but in the best way. Your breathing was labored, your pussy gratefully sucking in the silicone, the plush of your flesh puffing besides the firm grip she had on you. It was intoxicating but depriving all at once.

“Els, please! I need more, I’m sorry!” you apologized again, your voice coming out more in hiccups rather than coherent words. Yet she seemed to understand anyway, she was used to seeing you in such a mess.

“Oh I know, baby. You’re so sorry, so, so sorry. It’s okay, sweetheart, I can’t fault you for just wanting attention.” her voice almost seemed softer now—a stark contrast to the event taking place. Ellie adjusted her grip on you once again, raising you you up and then slamming you back down.

A sharp cry left your throat at the sudden force, the tip kissing your cervix in a way that made you squirm. “F-fuck, baby!” you practically squealed, hearing a small laugh come from her as she watched you fall apart. Your sopping hole was sucking her in so good, she eventually loosened her grip on your hips so you could move on your own.

“You have such a pretty pussy, y’know? I love the way you suck me in like that.” she commented, her voice was low and full of whatever magic she had in her vocal cords that made your panties sticky every time she spoke. She almost felt like she could feel you sucking her in, but watching was just as satisfying.

You continued bouncing up and down on her strap, humiliating squelching sounds coming from between you and the silicone. The room was full of wet sounds, panting, huffing, moans, tension, and the ambiance of sex. Your lips were stuck in a parted opening, soft moans and gasps leaving you everytime you felt her deep inside you. Like she was making an imprint inside you, like she belonged inside your warm heat, like her eyes were drinking up all the juices from your cunt that she couldn’t.

“Just like that, you’d think you were made for riding me.” she joked her fingers moving to your tits. she circled her thumb around of of them softly, pausing to press down a bit harder. She moved towards the left one and licked it softly, relishing in the way you squirmed and moaned. She pinched and sucked at your nipples softly, but enough to keep you satisfied.

As much as Ellie adored watching you ride her, she wasn’t getting enough friction from it—she wasn’t the one supposed to be deprived of pleasure. She stilled your hips again, her fingers digging into the plush of your thighs firmly.

Before you could even grasp it, she pulled out of you. Her strap’s absence leaving you completely empty. You stumbled to your feet, but before you could even whine she was bending you over the desk. A gasp of air was squeezed out of your lungs as you were pushed down against the desk. She pushed your head into the wood, your cheek pressing against it as you writhed.

Without warning, Ellie slammed back into you. A sharp cry left your throat, both in surprise and from the feeling of her deep inside you again. Your face was smooshed into the desk, silencing you wordlessly. “Don’t whine, I know you love being stuffed.” she said, stroking your hair but keeping your head pinned down.

“Ugh..I can never get over this angle.” Ellie rasped, her voice was so husky and seductive. Despite her attempts to seem unaffected, she was biting her lip and panting behind you. It was hard to act so mean when you looked like this, when you were bent over a desk full of her, when you looked back at her with those lovely, pleading eyes.

Oh, she was just as much of a mess as you were.

Ellie started off slow, fucking into you with deep, satyric thrusts. Her eyes were trained on the way your sopping cunt sucked her in greedily every time, her mind full of thoughts she wouldn’t say out loud for once.

With ease, her hand slipped onto the back of your head, pulling it up by your hair. The way your back arched when she did so was so rousing. She moaned at the sight, her fingers caught, tangled in your beautiful hair. She couldn’t help but pick up the pace from the erotic sight, the friction of the strap rubbing against her clit made her sigh.

Your hands were sprawled out on the desk, desperately looking for something to help keep you up, to help you ground yourself from the object being thrusted in and out of your shaking body, the feeling was both addicting and overwhelming. Your hips tried to meet hers in the middle of each thrust, but you were becoming limp.

“You’re so pretty, baby. I should fuck you in front of a mirror sometime so you can see.” she suggested breathlessly, fucking you like an animal. Ellie’s thrusts were powerful, rough, deep, overwhelming—but also so fucking raw feeling. You felt as if she was rearranging something devastating inside you every time she’d hit the spot that made you want to scream.

“Els..fuck! Right there!” you managed to gasp out, the sound of skin slapping and wet squelching sounds from your pussy becoming all the more audible. Your eyes were seconds away from rolling back, you felt your stomach tighten in a way that was uncomfortable but delicious at the same time.

Ellie laughed, “Yeah? Good spot?” she said, trying to angle her hips in the spot that made you moan like that. She kept her hips angled there, her pelvis smashing against the plush of your ass with each thrust.

Ellie offered you a lopsided smirk, even if you couldn’t see it—you knew she was reeling with satisfaction. She tilted your head back further, the arch in your back only made her slide in deeper. “C’mon, I wanna hear you. Just like that..you sound so sweet, baby.” she groaned out, the pleasure building up in her as well. The way you moaned her name so breathlessly made her feral, it made her want to drive even more sounds out of you.

You couldn’t even think straight, all your mind was focused on was the feeling of your cunt being stretched perfectly for her, just in the way you knew she loved to see.

Ellie had memorized the way you’d tense up, the way you’d start your squirm, the way you’d try and fuck yourself against her when you were about to cum—you didn’t even have to warn her. “Are you close, babe? I’ll let you cum this time, promise.”

You immediately gasped, the hope you felt was almost sad. After that much torture, she had better let you cum. “Yes—please! I’m so close, don’t stop!”

“Yeah? ‘You gonna cum for me? Go ahead, lemme see it.”

That was all you needed, the raspiness, monotonous but needy tone of her voice always made you clench. Your head tilted back a bit further, pressing up against her fingers tangled in your hair. A long string of moans left you, majority of which were pathetic gasps of her name. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, a release of tingling sensations bursting through your body all at once.

Ellie watched in awe as your walls spasmed around her strap, it was a sight that never got old, with a few more thrusts, she hung her head low and groaned, cursing and biting her lip as she also finished. She’d always had such an embarrassing orgasm face—so she usually hid it.

It wasn’t embarrassing, it was just adorable in the way it was so slutty. Adorable in the way she tried to act so mean but when she came—she just fell apart.

Both of you just remained there for a moment, panting and trying to catch your breath. Soaking up all the remaining pleasure and energy from the room around you. Your mind felt hazy, you felt like all your brain cells were gone the moment you came—perhaps gone in the humiliating amount of liquid arousal between your thighs.

Ellie pulled out soon enough, groaning as she saw your stretched out pussy staring at her. She put her hands on your shoulders, guiding you to stand up straight. You stumbled into her chest, hands scrambling to grip at her shirt for stability. She just laughed, kissing the top of your head tenderly like she didn’t just fuck your brains out and be a bitch to you.

You held her back, burying your face in her neck and groaning. All you could think about was the wetness webbing between your thighs and the smell of your girlfriend.

Ellie cleared her throat, rubbing your back softly. “Let me clean you up.” she said tenderly—before ruining it. “Wanna watch me play my game? I learned something super cool.”

You were absolutely dumbfounded, was she serious?

“You’re fucking ridiculous.” you commented, sighing into her neck weakly.

Ellie blinked and stared at the floor, registering your answer into her brain—poorly, might I add.

“So..yes?”

“You’re so insufferable.”

TAGS!! <3 @valeisaslut (50x) @eriiwaiii2 @haithone @usuck

A/N - this is kind of ass, i apologize. been struggling to write for some reason, FORGIVE MEEE. anywho, i hope you all have a nice easter!

#ellie williams #wlw #ellie williams tlou #lesbian #tlou part 2 #ellie williams imagine #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #wlw love

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foolinafable · 11 months ago

Text

thanks to tuffnut

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader Synopsis: four of the many times hiccup was oblivious to the fact he was in love with you and the time he finally realised. Word Count: 1.5K Tags: 4+1 fic, Fluff, Hiccups pov Note: started this ages ago and only just got inspired enough to finish it.

1. Searching for you in a crowd

Hiccup would never admit it, even now that he is respected as the heir to the hairy hooligan tribe and his father is proud of him. That he still feels like an outsider.

Maybe it’s because they see him as this dragon master and while he might be if he’s to listen to anything Fishlegs says- he feels like they don’t see anything else- he is still just the chief’s son, the future of the tribe or their saviour if any of his work on the edge was talked about. He was never just Hiccup to them, even to his friends they see him as this omnipotent being rather than just a teen like them- capable of making mistakes.

He suggests that this is why he prefers to have time alone- just him, toothless the ocean beneath them and the wind carrying them elsewhere, where he can be anything.

Annoyingly, this is not something he can do now: walking into the great hall at dinner time. He can already feel the beginnings of a headache wracking his brain as he imagines the awkward conversations he is going to have with villagers about his work on the edge as of late or the nagging of his father and Gobber to come back to Berk so he can learn the ways of chiefdom- something he is unsure that he even wants.

Entering the great hall after a large exhale, Hiccup looks around, searching for something lips pursing when he can’t find it immediately. It is only when he walks closer to where his father is sat, calling out pleasantries to those who greet him on the way that his eyes lock onto your figure, listening intently to what Ruffnut and Tuffnut are saying. Following the movements of their arms with your eyes as they spoke animatedly about who knows what. Hiccup finds a small smile appear on his face at the sight of you, only looking away when his father claps a hand behind his back making him aware of his surroundings, turning towards his father struggling to listen to whatever issue his father needs resolving around Berk this time, his thoughts still surrounding his best friend, knowing that as long as you are here he can be himself, just Hiccup. As that was always more than enough for you and that idea alone makes him feel less like an outsider.

2. Missing you when apart

He was starting to regret saying you couldn’t come with him. Not that he doesn’t enjoy Astrid and (sometimes) Snotlout’s company, but it clearly isn’t the same. While he usually enjoys scouting missions as they are a peaceful opposition to the dangerous missions they have had as of late, you typically come with him.

But he knows that you cannot leave the edge defenceless and Astrid was complaining about not getting out with Stormfly enough- so it all made sense logically for Astrid to come instead and for you to stay on land, protecting the dragon eye lenses the group had hidden.

He couldn’t trust anyone more which is why he was confused as to why he felt so anxious. Even Toothless could notice the angst radiating off his rider, making a noise of questioning at Hiccup when he was quieter than normal, not even going over the route the group were scouting- something he usually did a hundred times until the group got annoyed at him. Not even playfully joking with Snotlout about who was the better cousin until Astrid would make a comment that would set Snotlout off arguing with her.

Instead, the three riders sat in somewhat awkward silence with Astrid and Snotlout starting at each other trying to gauge if the other knew what was wrong with the boy and who was going to ask him as seemingly neither wanted to as usually you would look after Hiccup when he got like this but you were back on the edge and honestly Astrid was wishing she didn’t kick up such a fuss about her and Stormfly’s lack of action as even being bored back on the edge was better than being sat in this haunting silence.

It was only upon returning to the edge that the two saw his mood pick up, he nearly crashed Toothless into the ground at the speed he dismounted causing the other two to look around in panic until they saw him running towards you and then it all made sense. The two snickering slightly as they realised that he was only in a foul mood because you weren't around.

3. You looking after him when he gets sick

“It was only a matter of time” you muttered to him as you bundled him up in his blankets and he knew that you were right, you had been telling him for weeks to wear some warmer clothes during his flights with Toothless and his lack of listening has left him bedridden with a horrible cold, head pounding, nose blocked and red cheeks. He could only imagine the state of him somehow shaking and sweating all at the same time. He would’ve replied with something teasing if his throat didn’t feel so scratchy so he simply settled for a huff which made you laugh quietly in return.

“Okay, I will stop being mean, but only if you get some sleep” you reasoned with the boy as he whined at the idea thinking of everything he had to today

“I will get Astrid and Fishlegs to take your jobs for the day- can't have you getting any sicker what would your Father say?” you continued and at these words, the boy stopped fussing, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

“Have a good sleep Hiccup, I will be here when you wake up,” you muttered as he dozed off.

For some reason, Hiccup couldn’t understand those words made him feel so much better.

4. When his dad mentions you

Small talk with his father even after all this time was still somewhat awkward, like the feeling of your skin being too big for your bones. But, it was much better than it used to be or at least Hiccup usually believed it was. Still, today he would give anything to be anywhere but sit with his dad in their family home as he couldn’t stop going on about you and possibly betrothals something Hiccup knew would annoy you.

“I heard a lot of the boys around here want to ask for her hand, so maybe you should get a move on” Stoick spoke trying to hint at the boy's clear feelings for you

“I- what?” Hiccup asked confused, when had he ever shown interest in that?

“Oh it's nothing” Stoick tried to cover his tracks feeling Hiccups in annoyance at his words ‘you two just remind me of myself and a special someone when I was younger”

“What are you and Gobber? I’m sure she will be very flattered by those words Dad” Hiccup laughed before quickly taking his leave before his father could sprout out any more nonsense.

“Me and your mother” Stoick muttered but Hiccup was already gone, probably halfway back to the edge due to how fast he bolted out the door.

5. The realisation

Watching you interact with Toothless was one of Hiccup's favourite things to do. Seeing his dragon take a shine to you just as much as he does makes a warmth spread all over his body in a comforting way.

“Hiccup, my brother! What’s happening?” Tuffnut called out as he made his way towards the boy Hiccup quickly looked away from you for some reason embarrassed to be nearly caught by the boy, his cheeks red and hot

“Not- not a lot” Hiccup tried to smile but it came off uneasy much like his words. To his luck, Tuffnut didn't seem to notice instead looking at where Hiccup had his eyes trained just moments before before looking back at the boy

“Don’t worry I see” Tuffnut nodded in understanding causing Hiccup to become confused

“See what?” he questioned the peculiar boy

“You were finally building up the courage to ask her out!” Tuffnut declared “I mean it’s about time everyone knows you have the biggest crush on her! Don’t let me stop you, in fact, I wasn't even here!” the boy quickly ran off as Hiccup's thoughts whirled around his brain about what on earth was Tuffnut on about he didn’t have a crush on you. No way. I mean sure you are the first person he looks for in a crowd of people, he gets irritable when you aren't with him on missions, you are the only one he would want looking after him and his father loves you but that doesn't mean he likes you right- your his best friend he couldn't possibly- could he?

Then it hit Hiccup, he did have the biggest crush on his best friend, more than a crush really. He was irrevocably in love with you and to make matters worse Tuffnut knew before he did.

#hiccup x reader #httyd x reader #hiccup horrendous haddock x reader #hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup haddock #httyd hiccup #hiccup how to train your dragon #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #hiccup horrendous haddock lll #hiccup horrendous haddock the 3rd #httyd #x

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redeemingvillains · 8 months ago

Text

the black lake - mattheo riddle

summary: mattheo is hogwarts' triwizard tournament champion, and he's proven that he can crush the competition. but when the stakes are raised, and you're involved, nothing will get in his way.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this was was so fun to think about! lots of references to goblet of fire! lots of swearing, matty is not a happy camper in this one. enjoy ♡

Obviously this boy would put his name in the Goblet of Fire (all of the boys did) and there would be a lot of feelings about him being chosen as the Hogwarts champion, lots of accusations about him rigging the selection (he probably did). But he'd definitely crush the competition, especially when he had the right motivation...

ˋ°•*⁀➷

It's the morning of the second task, the day crisp and frosty, creating puffs of air as Mattheo huffed in exertion, marching down to the Black Lake surrounded by his friends. Suffice to say, he was pissed. It was fucking frigid outside and he hadn't seen you all morning, the combination enough to set him dangerously on edge.

You'd told him you'd come spend the night with him, and if nothing else you always ate breakfast together, so when you didn't show up last night and you were nowhere to be found this morning he was furious that you'd blown him off. Now he was spending his entire walk from the castle to the lake ruminating over it, piling on every perceived slight over the last few days, including the way he saw you talking to a group of guys from Durmstrang in the Great Hall yesterday, causing him to involuntarily curl his hands into fists at his side.

His friends walked beside him, surrounding him in a sort of semicircle, but moving in complete silence; they knew better than to try to say anything to him when he was in a mood like this. Before long, Pansy came running to meet them, nearly out of breath as she said, exasperated, "I couldn't fucking find her. She's not anywhere in our dormitory, in the library, I don't know where she's gone." Concern and frustration laced her voice as she looked at the group and then up at Mattheo.

This wasn't like you.

You had been Mattheo's #1 supporter throughout the whole tournament, helping him prepare, cheering him on, jumping into his arms the moment he'd defeated his dragon, and generally always glued to his side. In fact, you were always glued to all of their sides, the group of you being nearly inseparable, so having you missing made all of the boys feel shifty and on edge as they looked at one another.

Fear bloomed in Mattheo's chest. And the feeling of fear when it came to you did not sit well with him. He didn't want to feel afraid, to feel vulnerable when it came to you, so he opted to shove the feeling down, keeping instead with anger which was much easier and more natural to him.

"I don't have time for this" he muttered, quickening his pace as they all scrambled to keep up with him.

The biting wind whipped through his dark curls and stung his cheeks as he stood on the platform above the lake, staring into the middle-distance of the dark and choppy waves. Students and staff alike were cheering and shouting their encouragement for their champions, but he was completely zoned out, his mind bouncing back and forth between your lingering absence and the task ahead of him. He only perked up when Dumbledore's loud voice rang out over the crowd.

"Welcome to the second task!" it radiated.

"Last night something was stolen from each of our champions, a treasure of sorts—"

Mattheo's heart plummeted so fast into his stomach that he subconsciously grasped at his chest. A treasure? There wasn't a thing he owned that he valued enough to call a treasure, not a single thing in his life that held that much weight... except you. You were undeniably his treasure. He looked back into the murky water of the Black Lake... it couldn't be... he thought ... surely they wouldn't... as Dumbledore's voice continued.

"—These four treasures, one for each champion, now lie on the bottom of the Black Lake—" Mattheo's stomach lurched with what little breakfast he'd been able to eat as his eyes shot to Pansy's in the crowd in enough time to see her clasp her hand to her mouth as she pieced the situation together.

"—In order to win, each champion need only find their treasure and return to the surface. Simple enough. Except for this. They will have but one hour to do so and one hour only. After that, they'll be on their own. No magic will save them."

Mattheo's feet were moving before Dumbledore said another word, sprinting towards the water because fuck this stupid tournament, and fuck the geezer for thinking he could take you away from him, that he could put you in danger.

"You may begin at the sound of the cannon."

BOOM!

Mattheo heard the blast as his body hit the water, diving headfirst into the waves without bothering to cast a spell, without a care to what he'd find within the foreboding depths.

The cold shocked his system, but his heart was hammering for plenty of other reasons as he pulled his body through the fierce current, his strong arms and legs working against the waves.

For a minute he was surrounded in dark nothingness. He could feel rather than see that he wasn't alone in the water, occasionally sensing something moving on either side of him, but he didn't have time, you didn't have time for him to care. His lungs started to burn and he pressed his wand to his neck, casting a spell frantically so as not to waste another second.

After swimming at an impossible pace for so long he wondered if there even was a bottom to the lake, he heard an ethereal sound, like singing and changed course to swim towards it, which brought him to a large clearing where he could see merpeople swimming around. The few nearest him whipped their heads toward him, surprised at his presence as they turned to face him fully. He dared them, dared any fucking one of them to come near him, welcomed it actually, a chance to take out his rage, but they steered clear, perhaps sensing it would be a losing battle despite the tritons they carried and their razor-sharp teeth.

He swam on, his muscles straining, aching with the exertion of pulling his weight through the thick water at such an unwavering and desperate pace, but the feeling faded, drained from him, as four distinct figures came into view, four bodies, tethered and floating in the water, their hair moving eerily around their faces, their bodies stiff and still, like corpses.

He identified you immediately and he swam harder and harder until he was close enough to touch you. He brushed a hand against your cheek; your skin held a blueish tint and your face was expressionless, void of the smile that you always had for him, that reached your eyes, that lit up your face, the absence of it was enough to make his eyes sting in a way that had nothing to do with the brackish water.

He grasped your stiff form, the resistance of your body against his continuing to mess with his mind as he sent a spell to sever the rope that secured you and tried not to think about how rigid you felt in his arms.

His ability to breath underwater didn't matter for shit, because he was certain he didn't breath the entire way back, climbing harder and harder as he carried your weight with him, desperate to reach the surface, desperate to save you, thinking the entire time how fucking foolish he'd been to spend even one second mad at you today.

Finally, he could see the light of the surface, the grey clouds in the sky reflecting in the waves, and after a final series of strong kicks he broke through the current.

Immediately, he felt you come alive again in his arms, spluttering and coughing as you grasped for him.

"M-Matty!?" you said hysterically, the cold and fear in your voice setting his heart in a vice as your eyes fluttered open and you looked around in confusion at your surroundings. "What happened?! Where—?!"

"—It's okay, you're okay, you're safe" he said, pulling you against him, keeping you both afloat even as you rocked in the waves and he gasped deeply for air.

"C'mere, c'mon" he said, swimming with you in his embrace towards the platform, anxious to get you out of the freezing water.

The crowd had erupted into cheers when you'd breached the surface, and they were announcing that Mattheo was the champion by a long shot, not having been in the water for more than 20 minutes, the other champions still completely unaccounted for. But hearing talk of the competition and seeing everyone's ignorance about the whole situation as they clapped and smiled was pushing him to his limit as he hoisted you up to Pansy who greeted you with a thick towel.

Mattheo pulled himself out of the water, barely taking time to wrap a towel around his shoulders before grabbing three more and pulling them around you. You laughed under the heavy bundle, even as your shivering continued uncontrollably. "I-I'm okay, I-I'm okay" you said, trying to reassure him, even as you noticed that he wouldn't meet your eyes.

"Buncha fucking idiots" you heard him muttering as he rubbed your arms before he stooped down and swept you off your feet bridal style, one hand around your waist, the other holding on to your legs. The crowd cheered again, erupting in a sigh of "awws" at the gesture until he began barreling towards them.

"Matty?" you asked, concerned, "Where are we—?"

"—Anywhere but here" he growled as people began pushing each other to get out of his way.

"Mr. Riddle!" McGonagall chided, chasing after you both as you watched her from over his shoulder, urging him to stop as a couple of other professors followed in pursuit.

He veered towards the raised platform where the headmasters were seated, coming to a brief stop in front of Dumbledore who had stood to his feet.

"You are out of your fucking mind!" Mattheo spat at him.

Several people around you gasped, even Igor Karkaroff had the wherewithal to look surprised, impressed even, before Mattheo walked away, marching right off the platform and back towards the school as the entire crowd watched you go.

You could tell Mattheo was tired, beyond tired, physically, emotionally; you could feel his arms shaking against your weight.

"Matty, I can walk, it's okay" you said quietly, but he wouldn't let you go, wouldn't set you down, wouldn't even respond to you or meet your eyes. So you resigned yourself to resting your head on his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck which seemed to relax him a bit.

He carried you all the way to his room, making his way to the bathroom where he finally set you down and immediately began running you a hot bath. Wordlessly, he found a towel and a set of his clothes for you to wear, placing them at the edge of the tub before leaving without a word, closing the door gently behind him.

You looked anxiously at the closed door, aware that something was very very wrong, but also acknowledging that he might need a minute, and that you still couldn't feel the tips of your fingers or toes, so you resigned yourself to the hot water.

It felt heavenly, as did washing the muck of the lake off your skin and out of your hair. You reveled in the smell of his soap, like cedar and evergreen, but you were too anxious to sit there any longer than necessary, quickly pulling on his sweatpants and sweatshirt that engulfed your frame as you toweled your hair dry and pushed the door open.

Mattheo was seated at the edge of his bed, still dripping wet, his body shaking noticeably as he stared at the ground. He glanced up when he heard you, visibly relaxing a bit as he took in your warm, rosy cheeks and your soft smile, his mind flashing for only a moment to your unsmiling rigid form floating in the water, trying to reconcile that version of you with the one in front of him.

You approached him slowly, moving to stand between his legs as you took his face in your warm hands, tilting it to look at you. He had a strained, puzzled expression on his face as his eyes drank you in before his hands came to rest on your waist.

"Babe—" you started.

"—I love you" he said.

Your heart somersaulted over the words you'd never heard him say before as you let out a small breath, your hand moving to cover your mouth in shock as your eyes widened.

"I'm-I'm a fucking wreck for you" he continued, laughing humorlessly as he shook his head. "Today... really fucked me up. I thought I'd lost you, I thought..." he paused, getting quiet "...The way you looked down there, alone, miles under the water, surrounded by all sorts of shit" he shook his head harder like he could unlive the memory of it all.

"I should have told you sooner, because I've known for awhile, for a long fucking time, but I've been too scared to say it, too scared that you don't remotely feel the same way, but that doesn't matter anymore, nothing fucking matters other than you hearing me say it, today, every day, I love you, YN." His eyes met yours finally, wide and sincere. "With everything I've got, I love you."

"I love you too!—" you whispered, and the words were barely out of your mouth before he pressed his cold lips to yours, pulling you into him so tightly you let out an involuntary squeak as your arms moved to wrap around his neck and he fell backwards onto his bed, continuing to mumble against your lips "Iloveyou, loveyou, I loveyou", smushing your kisses with his affectionate words until you were laughing with joy, the sound finally reassuring him that you were his, and that you were okay.

♡

@kenjikishimotoswifey, @mattiesgf, @sleepiibunniiii, @darlingshecried, @girlblogging777, @foivetimesacharm, @clar2aa, @broadwaybaby123, @slytherinscreamqueen

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #slytherin boys

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lyrefromthesea · 1 year ago

Note

Blind reader x hashira + kokushibo? (since she's blind she doesn't know he's a demon?)

Please 🙃

Male hashira (+ Kokushibo) x Reader - Blindness is something I can overlook

author's note: fun fact, i am partially colorblind.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

"i like these.." you told him, holding a small chain of jewelry in your hands. the man looked over your shoulder, a content hum leaving him.

normally, people wouldn't take a blind person to shop for accessories with them, but Tengen didn't seem to care. in fact, he had appeared quite eager to take you with him.

now here you were, trying to find a "flashy" - as he'd like to call it - accessory for him. not knowing how they looked, you decided to feel them instead.

some of them were lightly sharp, sure to leave small scratches on his skin. others were rounded and had a smooth surface. you preferred them over the sharp jewelry, but weren't happy with those either.

finally, when your hand brushed over diverse stones, you felt content with the jewelery you've found. it felt like a rope in your hand, but it was made out of small cold stones, which were the perfect mix of smoothness and sharpness.

they varied in size and shape, leaving a good impression on you. especially since they reminded you of the big stones on his headband. when you told him that you liked them, his eyes lit up.

"there's another one here." he said, taking the second chain into his hand. the cool color of the new accessory matched the pink diamonds he already wore.

"they're perfect, beautiful." he told you, giving the cashier a handful of money. he didn't wait to get the rest of his money back, too focused on the gift you've found him.

"are you just saying that or do you mean it?" you ask, yet you smiled right after, knowing that he was being honest when he talked to you.

"they're great - flashy. i'll make sure to wear them everywhere." he was already attaching them to the side of his headband, determined to keep his promise true.

yet you were only focused on the softness that had sneaked into his voice, showing his appreciation for the newfound treasure.

Obanai:

he didn't mind your blindness, welcomed it even. he would've never admitted it to you, never told you - knowing it would probably hurt your feelings.

but he felt it was better that way, better for you not to see him. he was hideous and he knew it.

so why, after years of insecurity, he allowed someone to see his state of weakness. his heart nearly sunk when you asked him to let you see him.

he had told you it wasn't important, that he just needed to be there for you, but you had insisted and he couldn't deny you a single wish.

now he held himself back from moving away, his heart beating faster as he saw your hands nearing his uncovered face.

yet the contrast of his feelings and the soft warmth of your touch left him puzzled. you were sitting right next to him, hands cupping his cheek. more importantly, your thumbs were carefully tracing over his scars.

he knew you could feel the difference under your thumb, could feel how different he was from other people. part of him had expected you to leave him after finding out how hideous he truly looked.

"you're beautiful.." you whispered, his eyes widening like they've never done before. he was left speechless by your words, swallowing down his fear to respond.

"you don't have to lie." he answered, voice unstable. he couldn't believe that someone could love him, not when he was like this.

"i wish i could see you with my eyes." his trembling hands touched yours, squeezing them just lightly. he knew how much those words meant, you had never spoken them out before.

and it wasn't only your wish. he could feel the desire to make you see swell up in his own chest. to imagine that he thought differently before - it felt stupid to him now.

Rengoku:

"open your mouth and close your eyes!" he instructed, making you halt.

did he just? he did not, right? ..right?

"Kyojuro..?" you carefully said his name, making the man answer with a hum. he still held his spoon in hand, having wanted to give you a bite of his food.

you raised your hand, waving it in front of your face. it took him a moment to catch on, realizing that his words had been stupid to the core.

"oh- i certainly didn't-" he stopped when he heard you snort, wide eyes watching you smile and laugh. his heart started beating faster, his cheeks flushing.

you clearly weren't mad or disappointed, but he felt embarrassed for forgetting something so obvious. the words slipped out of his mouth before he could even register it.

"it's fine, don't worry." you answered, putting a comforting hand on his. you leaned forward, taking the spoon into your mouth and chewing on the food before swallowing it down.

"is that sashimi? it's really good." you complimented, the note of wasabi still lingering on your tongue.

"do you want me to order some more?" he asked, turning his hand around to hold yours. you hummed, a small smile forming on your face.

days like these were your favourite - the perfect mix of romantic and silly.

Sanemi:

"it should be around here.." you mumbled, pulling the white haired man with you. his eyes were fixated on your surroundings, trying to figure out what exactly drove you towards this place.

"ah- can you smell it?" you gasped, turning your head towards the right, trying to pick up on the floral scent lingering in the air.

"no.." he answered, shaking his head lightly. no matter what he thought off, he couldn't come up with a reason why you'd bring him here.

nevertheless, his legs continued moving, not because he was necessarily interested, but because he wanted to make you happy.

that's why his eyes widened when you walked past multiple trees, reaching a giant flower field.

now he understood what you were talking about, the floral aroma enveloping his senses. he felt you letting go of his hand, leaning down to pick one of the flowers and smell on it.

the field was beautiful, full of the prettiest flowers he had ever seen. however, he realized that was a sight you'd never experience, slowly lowering himself in the grass next to you.

he took one of the flowers, mimicking your actions and breathing in it's scent. if you couldn't see what he was seeing, he could at least try experiencing the same as you.

"it's beautiful.."

Giyuu:

"like this." his voice was quiet, but it sounded much thicker and lower than the night's silence. he had asked you to show him your hand, but when you asked how, he guided it into the correct position.

your palm was facing him, fingers feeling the wind brush between them, teasing you with light touches and the surrounding silence.

you felt his hand on yours, his fingers brushing over your palm, gently drawing different forms onto your skin.

"it tickles.." you whispered, a quiet chuckle escaping you when he started tapping along your skin. a gentle huff escaped him, the one that made you know he was smiling.

"that's how i feel when i see you.." he answered, his hand finally pressing against yours, fingers interlocking in a gentle hold.

you silently scooted closer, the night's air sending a comfortable chill over your body. it didn't take him long to hold you closer, letting his body's warmth settle into your skin.

"you make me feel ticklish all around.. sometimes i worry i won't be able to think when i see you." he admitted, coaxing a smile out of you.

he didn't mind that you couldn't see, because he could see your beauty either way.

Gyomei:

some might say it would be ironic for two blind people to fall in love or befriend each other, but it certainly worked out for the two of you.

you admired his strength and he admired yours. truthfully, he hadn't noticed you at first, hadn't questioned why you used another weapon than the other demon slayers, but it all made sense when he found out about your blindness.

"this is your weapon of choice?" he had asked when the two of you joined a mission. he held a long rope dart in his hand - your treasure. Haganezuka had created the weapon for you.

the usually normal rope was made out of a thin chain, helping you coordinate throughout the fight. naturally, Gyomei who also used a special weapon, was intrigued by it.

"due to my lack of strength, it's the only suitable weapon for me." you answered, your fingers tracing over the axe he carried around with him. it was much heavier than your weapon, fitting for the man, who was much taller than you.

"it is a good choice indeed. i admire your critical thinking skills." he admitted, a smile displaying on his face.

and though you would sadly never see the happy look he'd give you in the future, you certainly liked the content tone of his voice.

Kokushibo:

he didn't remember his former loved ones. he didn't remember his wife. he didn't remember his child. their faces were a blur that he had created himself.

but you weren't. you were well. you were alive. he didn't need to remember the past when he could enjoy the presence with you.

his own human, the one he swore to protect. perhaps the gods have blessed him this time around, just like they had blessed his damned brother before.

the one person Kokushibo yearned to have just had to be a human. his surprise when he realized you weren't able to see was immaculate. he felt compassionate. and relieved.

"greetings.." the male spoke, stepping through the small gate of your house. the area was surrounded by wisteria, but like the gods had wanted him to find you, they left a small path for him.

"Kokushibo, it's you!" you smiled, standing up and letting go of the flowers in your hand. it took some time, but you managed to grow some in your garden.

the demon watched you move towards him, affectionately taking his hand like you've known each other forever. "you came back earlier this time."

"i happened to have a bit of free time.." he answered, low voice filling you with contentedness. while he made sure to look at you, his other eyes glanced at the garden.

the world could be dangerous for a blind person, but you've built your own small paradise between the rows of poisonous trees.

"let's get you inside, it's quite cold." you said, leading him towards the entrance of your very own home.

he wondered if he could keep up this facade of trust or if you would hate him after you've found out that the enemy stood in your house.

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jazziejax · 2 months ago

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐕𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Lines blur on a hot summer day when Juicy finds herself caught between what feels good, what feels right, and the one man she hasn’t figured out how to let go of—yet.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 18+!!! Suggestive content, intense romantic tension, strong language, heavy makeout, handjob, spit, slightly emotionally vulnerable conversations

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - 😛, also, this was originally going to be one chapter but I had to split it up into two, so the next chapter shouldn’t take this long. Okay, I’ve been going to multiple graduations, sorry! I hope you guys enjoy this, I love hearing from all of you and appreciate your feedback greatly. Thank you for reading and leave a comment PLEASE!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 11,854+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢

Juicy sat still as stone beneath the blazing sun, her gold-rimmed shades shielding her eyes—but not her thoughts. They were loud. Loud enough to drown out Mary’s chattering, the splashes from the pool, and whatever song was thumping low through somebody’s boombox across the yard. Her arms were folded across her chest, pushing her breasts up in a way she didn’t even realize, her glossed lips set in a tight pout, eyes glued—though she pretended not to be—to the mess unfolding across the pool. Smoke was still entertaining Anika like he had no home training and no memory of the things he said just last night. The nerve of him.

And though Juicy would never let him—or anyone else—see her bothered, she was. That same little ache was blooming in her chest again, heavy and sour, until she heard a voice smooth as satin, dipped in just enough trouble to make her heart skip.

“Well, well, well.’ Stack drawled, his skin catching the sun as he walked up, a slow smile tugging at his lips as he locked eyes with her. “And what could possibly be wrong with the princess on this fine-ass day?”

His voice was teasing, but warm and low enough to cut through all the noise clouding her mind. Juicy turned her head slightly but didn’t lift her shades. Not yet. Her lips curved into a slow, reluctant smile, the first real one she’d cracked since that little display Smoke put on. She had an idea.

“Nothing.” She said, voice soft, nearly sweet.

Stack grinned, pleased by the answer even though he knew better. He lowered himself onto the end of her lounge chair and she didn’t stop him. In fact, she sat up slowly and scooted down just enough to close the space between them. One of her legs curled behind him on the chair, the other planted on the ground beside his, practically cocooning him in her presence. Her warm cheek rested on his shoulder like a pillow, the glitter on her skin catching in the sunlight and dusting across his skin like fairy dust.

Stack blinked.

Damn. He wasn’t sure what spell she was casting, but he was more than willing to fall under it. His hand drifted to her knee, his thumb absentmindedly stroking over her skin as he tried to play it cool. “And what’s got you all touchy-feely today?” He asked, dipping his head slightly to try and catch a better view of her face. But with her shades on, she was still unreadable.

“Nothing.” She said again, but there was a softness to it this time. A little breath behind the word. Then came the quiet sigh.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, turning it just enough to rest her chin there instead, her lips mere inches from his ear. She tilted her face toward him slowly, until their eyes met through her tinted lenses. When she slid the shades up from the bridge of her nose, those big brown eyes blinked up at him, glossy and deep and full of something he hadn’t seen from her in a long time.

Longing. Need.

“It’s just that…” She whispered, trailing off before she gathered the nerve to ask, “Are we not gonna talk about last night?”

Stack’s stomach dropped at that, but in the best way.

That mouth of hers. Those eyes. The way she said it so damn softly, like he was the only person in the world who knew her secrets. The same girl who used to clown on him in front of the crew was now cuddled up next to him with her lip gloss shining like diamonds and her perfume all sweet and floral. He’d be lying if he said his mind didn’t go right back to the night before. Her on top of him on her couch. Her hands on his chest. The way she looked at him when she said his name.

Stack cleared his throat, shifting slightly on the lounge chair, eyes darting to the side to make sure nobody caught on to the sudden rise in his shorts. The last thing he needed was someone’s auntie at the pool giving him the side-eye while sipping her wine cooler.

“Damn, girl.” He muttered under his breath, lips curving into a lopsided grin as he shook his head. “You tryna make a man lose all his composure in public?” He asked.

Juicy giggled, low and sweet, hiding her smile behind her fingers like she hadn’t just turned his whole damn world upside down with that soft pout on her lips. She smelled like vanilla and coconut.

“So?” She asked again, her voice lower now, just for him. “We not gonna talk about it?”

Stack tilted his head, brushing his fingers up and down her thigh in slow, lazy strokes, his touch deliberate, his eyes half-lidded. He watched the way her skin pebbled under his fingertips, goosebumps rising despite the summer heat.

“I mean…” He drawled, voice thick as honey. ‘What you wanna say? You wanna talk about how you kissed me? Or what was finna happen on the couch if Sinclair didn’t walk in?”

Juicy rolled her eyes, but her smile deepened, her cheek pressing to his shoulder again a magnet attracted to metal. She wasn’t tryna revisit Sinclair or what stopped them—she was focused on what happened before that. What almost was. “You kissed me first, Stack.” Her voice was soft but certain, like she wanted that part on record.

He chuckled, his thumb stroking circles against her skin. “Okay, but you kissed back.”

Her heart thudded loud and deep in her chest, an echo in her ears. But she didn’t shy away. “I did.” She admitted, turning her head just enough to meet his gaze, her fingers now tracing slow, absentminded patterns across the muscles of his back. Her nails grazed over his skin, light as air. “And…I’d do it again.” She mumbled softly.

And she meant it.

What had started as a petty distraction—a way to keep her eyes off Smoke across the pool with that raggedy little pick-me Anika—had quickly turned into something else. She wasn’t thinking about them now. Not when she was wrapped around Stack like this, not when his scent—the heavy musk of his cologne and cocoa butter—was messing with her head.

Stack looked down at her, eyes heavy with something deeper. Her words lingered in the air between them like the humidity. His flirting made him swallow hard, caught off guard by her honesty, but he was not about to let the moment slip through his fingers. “We can do that whenever and wherever you want, darling.” He charmed, his country drawl deepening, slow and rich like molasses.

Juicy grinned at that, humming low and sweet, rubbing her hand against his bare back again, taking her time now. She liked the way he said ‘darling’, like the way he talked to her. She liked that she brought it out of him. “Okay…but first.” She teased, shifting forward until her chest pressed lightly against his thigh. “You have to let me apply this sunscreen to you.” She said as she leaned across him, her arm stretching toward her oversized straw beach bag with the bamboo handles. Her body curved against him perfectly, warm and soft. Her plump chest brushed his leg, sending a jolt of awareness through his core.

Stack groaned lightly, trying to distract himself from the feeling of her. “Baby, I’m Black, I don’t need no sunscreen.”

“Everyone needs sunscreen, Stack.” She said, pulling the bottle from her bag with a triumphant grin. “Don’t believe everything that you hear.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Well, I can say the same for what you’re sayin’.” He stated, causing Juicy to let out a small laugh. She sat up straighter now, her glasses pushed high on her slick, honey-colored bun as she gave him a pointed look, brows arched. The glare had bite, but it only made him grin. “You just wanna rub all on me.” He accused playfully.

Juicy laughed, cracking the cap on the sunscreen bottle. “I don’t need an excuse to rub up on you.” She said, voice sliding into something velvet and slow, a little seductive. She squirted a dollop into her palm, rubbing her hands together as Stack watched, captivated. “Do I?” She asked, cocking her head as if he didn’t already know. She paused, her hands outstretched and coated in lotion, sunlight bouncing off her golden-brown skin. “You already said it.” He replied smoothly, smirking.

Stack licked his lips and leaned forward a bit, ready as she began rubbing the lotion into his back. Her touch was firm but tender, working the sunscreen in slow, deliberate circles. The heat of her hands, the closeness of her body—it was intimate in a way that felt almost too much for public, but neither of them cared. He let his eyes drift closed for a moment, savoring the feel of her fingers trailing over his skin, his muscles twitching beneath her touch.

Juicy took her time, fingers sliding over his shoulders and down his spine. She didn’t miss the way he sighed quietly, or the way his body leaned into her just a little more. She was pouring all the affection she wasn’t sure how to say into her hands.

And across the pool, Smoke saw it all.

Anika had left moments ago, said something about needing another drink, or fixing her lipstick, he didn’t know. He didn’t even care, but now she was gone, and he had a clear view of Juicy and Stack.

His brother. His girl.

He didn’t feel jealous. Not exactly. This wasn’t the kind of thing that stirred that in him. But still—he couldn’t look away.

There was something about the way Juicy was taking care of Stack that got to him. The soft looks, the lingering touches, the genuine laughter. It wasn’t just flirtation—it was something deeper that he could see lingering between them. And she looked good doing it all.

Her skin shimmered under the sun, glinting with flecks of glitter from that perfume Mary had gifted her for Christmas—the one he remembered because she always saved it for days she wanted to feel extra pretty. She had her legs wrapped around Stack’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Stack looked…happy. Soft, even.

Smoke stared for a moment longer, his drink halfway to his lips, then slowly turned his attention away.

Whatever that was between them, it was unfolding whether he liked it or not.

And Juicy didn’t even notice Smoke looking. Not anymore. She was too busy rubbing lotion into the warm skin of the man holding her.

The sun hung in the sky, golden and sticky like honey, casting a soft white sheen on everything it touched. The air was thick with the scent of chlorine, grilled ribs, and the unmistakable sweetness of Juicy’s perfume that still clung to her skin like dew. Her fingers were slick with sunscreen, the coolness of the lotion stark against the warm curve of Stack’s back as she rubbed it in slow, deliberate circles. “Damn,” Stack murmured, his voice lower now, raspier. “You gon’ take your time or you tryna get me worked up on purpose?”

Juicy smiled, her lip gloss catching the sun as she leaned in closer, her lips a breath away from his ear. “What if I am?” She whispered, rubbing her palms over the dip in his spine, down to the V of his waist before gliding back up again, her movements just slow enough to make his jaw clench. “Is it working?”

Stack exhaled, his hand flexing against his thigh. “You playin’ a dangerous game, baby.”

“I’m not playin’.” She said, moving to his arms now, turning slightly so she could kneel on the chair beside him. She lifted one of his arms by the wrist and began coating his bicep in smooth strokes, fingers gliding over muscle like she was memorizing the shape of him. “You the one who wanted me to do this, remember?”

“Correction.” Stack said, watching her through hooded eyes. “You insisted. Said it was medically necessary.”

“It is.” She grinned, biting her lip as she moved to the other arm. “Skin cancer don’t give a damn about how fine you are.”

He chuckled at that, low and amused. “So I’m fine now?”

“You been fine.” She replied with a shrug, smoothing the lotion over his forearm, teasingly running her thumb along his wrist. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Too late.

Stack was already halfway gone, trying his best to sit still while her fingers trailed over his skin like a slow-burning fuse. And Juicy—Lord, Juicy was taking her time with it. When she shifted in the lounge chair in front of him, her knees brushing the outside of his thighs, he damn near forgot where he was. Her touch was slow, circular, and she moved with deliberate care because she didn’t want to rush. She wasn’t sure when she started enjoying this more than she should’ve. It was just sunscreen, she told herself. Just sunscreen. Nothing more.

But by the time she made it to his arms—one thick and relaxed against his thigh, the other resting behind him—Stack had turned his head slightly, catching her in profile. She was focused, biting her bottom lip as she rubbed the lotion into his bicep, her long nails grazing him lightly.

“Let me take you out.” He said, not even leaving room for disagreement within his demand.

Juicy’s fingers froze for a half-second, her eyes snapping up to his. “Huh?”

“Let me take you out on a date, Journee.” He said, his voice smooth and firm, calling her by her real name.

Her laugh came out soft, breathy, almost involuntary. It caught her by surprise, because everything hit her at once. The use of her real name, which felt like something sacred now, something intimate. The weight of his words. The idea of a date, like this—whatever this was between them—was turning into something real. Something intentional. All while her hands were gliding over his warm, tattooed arms, trailing over words and symbols inked into his skin. Her fingers didn’t stop moving, almost like she was trying to distract herself from what he just said. Or the way he was staring at her like she was all he could see.

She reached for more sunscreen, rubbing her palms together, readying to press them onto his chest when he caught her wrist gently.

“You not gon’ answer me?” Stack asked, low and soft, his thumb brushing slow against the inside of her wrist. Juicy stilled as the air between them thickened. She looked at him fully now, the shimmer of her body mist glinting in the sun as her lip gloss caught the light. Her voice came quieter this time, more careful. “Wait… what?” She asked. “Are you for real?”

“Yes.” He said without pause, his eyes locked on hers. They flickered between her brown eyes and her full lips, searching her, but not pushing. Juicy looked at him for a long second, trying to find a tell of some joke, some smirk, some sort of game, but there was none. His face was relaxed, his expression soft. His eyes were the kind of gentle she wasn’t used to. The kind that made you feel seen and touched without even laying a hand.

“Stack, are you serious?” She asked, her voice rising just slightly with disbelief.

“Yes.” He said again, slower this time.

“Stack.”

“What?”

“Stack?!”

“What?!”

“Oh my goodness.” Juicy giggled, her grin finally breaking wide. “Yes! Yes, I’ll go on a date with you!”

“Good.” Stack said with a quiet smirk, his grip on her wrist still light but possessive. Like he’d been waiting for this moment, and now that it was here, he didn’t want to let it pass.

Juicy’s first instinct was to hug him—throw her arms around his neck and squeal into his ear like a high school girl in love. But then she remembered the lotion. Her hands were still slick with it. “Oh.” She mumbled with a laugh, shifting back and placing her hands finally on his chest. She swallowed, biting her lip again, this time to keep from gasping, because her hands were now gliding over his pecs, smooth and warm and strong beneath her fingertips. She rubbed slowly, deeply, letting her fingers wander along the defined ridges of his abs. His tattoos stretched beneath her palms, and she traced them subconsciously as she worked the cream in, taking her sweet time now. More than necessary.

Stack leaned back on his hands, chest bare to her, letting her explore with her touch. Juicy was on her knees in the chair, leaning over him slightly, and neither of them noticed the rare glances being thrown their way across the patio—the tension between them was its own kind of gravity. It pulled every glance, every passing whisper, into silence.

But Stack only had eyes for her.

He watched her like he was studying sunlight through stained glass. Tracing her every movement, cataloging every little breath and blink. Her cheeks glowed under the heat, her curls pulled back with just a few tendrils stuck to her neck. And her lips—sticky, glossed, and irresistible—kept pulling his eyes back again and again.

She looked up once, catching him staring, and her breath caught. “What?” She whispered.

“Nothing.” He said, lips curling. “Just tryna remember this.”

“Remember what?” She asked, laughing nervously.

He tilted his head. “The moment you said yes.” He smirked. Juicy’s smile faltered into something softer, and she pressed her palm flat against his chest, her thumb brushing just under his collarbone. “You’re so smooth.” She quipped, rolling her eyes at him.

“I’m serious.” He said, not smiling this time.

“I know.” She whispered.

Stack didn’t say anything after that. He just kept looking at her, the muscle in his jaw flexing slightly as her palm lingered against his chest. Her fingers, still slightly slick with sunscreen, stayed pressed against his warm skin like she wasn’t ready to let go yet. Maybe she didn’t want to. Juicy’s lips parted, and she tilted her head, her eyes skimming over his face, then down his chest again, and then back up to those low-lidded eyes watching her like he had nowhere else in the world to be.

Her heart was thudding against her ribs so loud she was sure he could hear it. The sun had started to dip a little lower now, casting soft amber light across his skin, making the edges of his tattoos glow like they were lit from within. She’d never seen a man look like that—like a damn dream, golden and real all at once.

She looked down again, hand dragging slowly across his chest, brushing over his left pec with more care than she even realized. Her thumb traced the edge of one of his tattoos like she was memorizing it by feel alone. She didn’t know when it had turned into something so intimate, but here they were, breathing in each other’s space, heartbeats lined up and unspoken things passing between them like static.

Stack’s hand moved up and caught the curve of her waist. His fingers didn’t grip, they just rested there, his thumb brushing lazily over the bare skin just above the waistband of her low-rise shorts.

Juicy swallowed as her eyes met his again.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” She asked, voice soft, flirtatious but a little breathless.

“’Cause you’re beautiful.” He said easily. “’Cause I been tryna look at you like this since I met you. And now I can.”

Juicy had no words for that. Not at first.

She just blinked, eyes lingering on his, her breath catching somewhere in her throat. A slow smile tugged at her lips, different from the giddy one earlier. This one was heavier, like she couldn’t believe how soft she felt in that moment. How seen she felt. “You gon’ kiss me or something’?” She asked with a playful tilt of her head, her voice low and thick.

Stack leaned in just a fraction, close enough that his lips were a whisper away from hers. “I told you I was takin’ you out first, didn’t I?”

Juicy laughed softly, shaking her head, eyes twinkling as she leaned back slightly. “Boy, you so corny.”

“You still like it though.” He smirked.

She rolled her eyes with a grin, her hand still resting against his chest, now feeling the steady thump of his heart underneath. “Yeah… I do.” She mumbled.

Stack’s thumb brushed slow over her waist again, his eyes on her lips for a beat too long. They stayed like that for a moment, suspended in that sweet, sticky tension of summer, wrapped in heat and hope and everything new. Juicy let her fingers drag down the center of his chest before finally pulling away, smirking as she reached for the sunscreen bottle again—partly to reset the moment, partly because she needed to do something with her hands before she gave in and climbed into his lap.

“I missed a spot.” She murmured.

Stack smiled, leaned back again, and let her hands find him once more. The air between them was humid and heavy, buzzing like the heat that shimmered off the concrete in waves. The lotion was nearly gone, but Juicy’s hands hadn’t stopped. They moved slow, deliberate, her fingers tracing across Stack’s skin like she was learning him by heart. Stack sat there stiff as stone, his posture and his pants, trying not to let the way she touched him show on his face, but it was no use. His jaw was tight, his breathing was low, and his eyes were glued to her like she was the last sweet thing earth had to offer.

Then, just when he thought she might keep going—maybe slide her hands even lower, maybe straddle his lap, maybe finish what she started—Juicy leaned forward, close enough for him to smell the peach gloss on her lips and the cocoa butter from her palms. She bit her bottom lip and dragged her eyes over his face like she was pulling something from him. Slowly and thoroughly, as if this was all a game and she was five moves ahead.

“I have to use the bathroom.” She said softly.

But it wasn’t the words. It was how she said it. Her gaze bounced between his lips and his eyes, heavy-lidded and warm, and Stack just… froze. Caught in the way her voice melted into the sticky summer air. Like he was under some kinda spell. She slid off the lounge chair, slow and smooth, her thighs brushing his as she stood. Then the sunglasses, those big, dark brown shades she slid on with practiced ease. She slipped her feet into her gold-and-white Baby Phat wedge flip flops and started walking, hips swaying in that hypnotic rhythm she was famous for.

Stack didn’t even register she was gone until she looked back at him, over her shoulder, over the rim of those shades. Her lips parted just enough to catch a glimmer of sun on the gloss, and her fingers flexed outward, an unspoken invitation dangling in the thick summer air.

That’s all it took.

He stood up fast, heart thudding somewhere near his throat. His long strides caught up to her quick, and when her hand reached back for his, he took it without hesitation, his fingers curling around hers like it was second nature. His eyes dropped as she led him toward the community center. He couldn’t help it. All legs and hips and that little sway she had that made his thoughts scatter.

He didn’t care where they were headed. Wherever Juicy was taking him, he was going. Happily.

But as they crossed the pavement, just a few feet from the double doors of the center, Juicy’s eyes caught someone.

Smoke.

He was leaning against the corner of the building, half in shadow, half in sunlight. A cloud of smoke curled up from his lips, the blunt burning low between his fingers. His eyes were heavy-lidded, but sharpened the second they landed on her.

And time seemed to slow.

Stack didn’t see it. Didn’t feel the way her fingers tightened ever so slightly around his hand. Didn’t notice the way her spine straightened or the quick rub of her lips together like she was steadying herself. But Smoke noticed. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t double take or anything. He just watched them, his expression unreadable beneath the haze of weed and heat.

His eyes slid from Juicy’s face to her hand in Stack’s…and then back up again.

And for a split second, there was a flicker of something. It wasn’t jealousy, it wasn’t anger. It was just acknowledgment that he saw her. That he saw them. And maybe he understood exactly what was happening without needing to hear a single word.

Juicy held his gaze briefly, long enough for the silence to say what neither of them would. But she continued, pulling Stack inside with her.

Whatever guilt she should’ve felt—it didn’t exist. Maybe it was because she didn’t care, at least that what she tried to tell herself. Or maybe it was because Smoke didn’t look hurt at what he saw. He didn’t have a look of shock or betrayal on his features.

He just looked… hungry.

Like maybe, if Stack hadn’t been the one she reached for, he would’ve been. And that thought sent a thrill through her chest, pooling hot and dangerous in her belly.

Stack, still unaware of the exchanged glance, followed close behind, admiring the curve of her backside, the sway of her hips, the way her skin glowed in the fluorescent hallway light. He didn’t care where she was taking him.

Juicy smiled to herself as they disappeared into the building. She didn’t stop pulling him until they reached the narrow hallway just before the bathrooms, the area cooler and quieter, nothing but the bass of the cookout music thumping faintly through the walls behind them. The air smelled like deodorant and faint traces of perfume.

Stack barely had time to blink before Juicy spun around and pushed him—hard—against the wall. His back hit the smooth brick plaster with a soft thud, knocking the wind out of him just enough for surprise to flash across his face.

“Damn, girl—”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Juicy pounced like she’d been holding herself back for too long, and her mouth crashed into his with a hungry kind of urgency that made his whole system stutter. Her lips were soft but firm, glossed but not sticky, and she kissed like she meant to take something from him—like she was claiming it.

Stack’s brain stalled, but his body didn’t. Instinct took over.

His hands slid to her waist, strong palms gripping the soft and plush curve of her sides to steady her. Mostly because she was coming at him so wild and fierce, he needed to hold her close just to keep up. She moaned softly against his lips, and something about the sound shot straight through him.

He groaned low in response, right into her mouth.

That’s when he lifted her. His strong arms slid beneath her thighs, hoisting her like she weighed nothing. He never broke the kiss, not once, as he turned and walked her backwards, careful but eager, until her back hit a different stretch of wall, tucked away near the bathroom doors. Secluded enough.

Juicy clung to him, her hands buried in the back of his cornrows, fingertips rubbing at the base of his neck like she could soothe the fire she was feeding. Their kisses grew louder, messier, the wet sounds echoing softly down the hall. But they couldn’t hear it. They couldn’t even bring themselves to care.

They were completely wrapped up in the feel of each other.

She whimpered when he ground her into his crotch—his bulge pressing against the thinnest part of her bathing suit skort, right where she throbbed for him. He swallowed the sound, capturing it with his mouth, deepening the kiss as her legs tightened around his waist.

Stack’s hand slid to her ass, gave it a firm squeeze that made her center clench and her toes curl. If they weren’t careful, they were gonna cross a line. Hell, they already had. The heat between them was boiling, and the way she rocked her hips into his made it damn near impossible to stop.

But then—a pinch.

A building pressure.

Beneath the haze of lust and adrenaline, reality tapped on Juicy’s shoulder with increasing urgency. Her eyes fluttered open, lips still locked to his, but her body was waving a red flag.

She had to pee.

She broke the kiss, panting against his lips, her head falling back just enough to catch her breath. Stack, still caught in the moment, leaned forward to follow her, trailing kisses along her jaw, his breath hot against her skin.

“Stack…” She sighed, voice breathless, trying to gather herself.

He hummed low in response, mouth still busy at her neck, hips still grinding like he couldn’t help it. Like it was second nature that moment they got like this.

“Stack, wait.” She said, firmer this time. Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, applying just enough pressure to push him back a bit.

His lips paused. His brows furrowed slightly as he leaned back, eyes dazed and lips swollen from kissing. “Huh?”

“I have to pee.” Juicy said, squeezing her thighs together instinctively around his torso, her voice half serious and half laughing at the ridiculous timing of her own body.

Stack blinked, clearly trying to process through the fog of hormones. His eyes scanned her face, took in the smudged gloss, the flushed cheeks, the slightly wild look in her eyes. She looked wrecked—and it was all him.

A crooked smile curled at his lips.

“Oh, baby…” He murmured, tilting his head. “That’s not pee.”He smirked devilishly, leaning in close. “I’ll show you how to do that later, just let me—”

“No, Stack, for real!” Juicy laughed, smacking his chest, her voice breathless but serious this time. “Move! I gotta piss!”

Stack groaned like the universe was out to get him. “Damn.” He muttered, reluctantly easing her back down to the floor, hands lingering longer than they needed to.

As soon as her feet hit the tile, she was already stepping away, adjusting her skirt and heading for the girl’s room just a few feet down.

But just as she reached for the bathroom door—

Smack!

His hand connected with her ass in a sharp, playful hit that made her squeak and spin around, eyes wide.“Stack!” She hissed, glaring at him. But he just gave her that damn grin, the one that had to have the girls in Chicago ruin their lives for just a moment with him. “Damn, Juicy.” He said, eyes trailing from her backside up to her smirking mouth like he had every right to look. “You know I hate to watch you go, but I’ll gladly watch you leave.”

He backed away, slow and easy, like he had all day. And just before ducking into the men’s room, she caught a glimpse of his trunks, the clear outline of his problem straining hard and proud.

She rolled her eyes with a sift scoff but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at her lips.

Juicy rushed into the bathroom, her knees nearly buckling as she slammed the stall door shut. Her heart was still racing, but for a whole new reason now—and not just from the way Stack had her melting into that hallway wall mere seconds before. She could barely breathe from the intensity of his kisses, his body, the way his hands gripped her thighs like he couldn’t stand to let her go. But now… she really had to pee. And it was killing the vibe.

When she was done, she took a moment at the sink, looking at herself in the mirror. Her lip gloss was smudged, her curls slightly tousled from where Stack’s fingers had gripped the back of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes still blown from the heat of their moment. She exhaled, straightened her halter top, and smoothed down her mini skirt. With a soft laugh at herself, she pushed out the bathroom door, still warm from Stack’s touch.

But she didn’t make it far.

The hallway was quiet now, almost too quiet. As she rounded the door, the air seemed to shift into something heavy and tense.

There he was, the man himself.

Smoke.

He was leaning against the wall like he had been waiting.

Her steps slowed. She could feel it, the weight of his gaze on her when she exited the bathroom, the way it crawled up her skin like wildfire. He said nothing, but everything about him was loud and demanding. His posture, his presence, his silence. She didn’t look at him for long. After she let out a small breath at seeing him, she felt the heat rise in her throat, her arms folding defensively over her chest as she turned her face slightly, staring at the far wall like it held the answers as to why he was suddenly in her space.

He didn’t move at first, just kept looking at her. His tall frame blocked the hallway, his shadow swallowing the corner whole. Juicy could feel the way his eyes raked over her, from her lips to her legs, and the same skirt Stack had bunched around her hips not even five minutes ago.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, she raised her head and met his eyes for a second, her voice dry but biting. “Can I help you?”

Smoke’s voice rolled out low and rough, like gravel over velvet. “What’s up with you, huh?”

She let out a breathy laugh, annoyed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes narrowed at him as he stepped forward. She didn’t flinch, but her jaw tightened. The heat of his nearness pulled at her like gravity. “Your games won’t work, Juicy.” He said.

She scoffed. “Oh, now I definitely don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” She turned on her heel to brush past him, the tension crackling between them like static. Smoke didn’t stop her. Not physically. But his voice followed her like a shadow.

“You flirting with Stack.” He began, causing Juicy freeze mid-step, her back to him “All up on him, rubbing on him, whispering to him.“ He continued. “It’s not doing what you think it is.”

Her fist clenched, nails biting into her palm as she turned around slowly, her face sharp with fury. “And neither is you talking to Anika.”

That made him pause.

He stared at her for a long moment before a smirk curled across his lips. He laughed softly through his nose, like she was amusing. “Is that what this is about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Smoke.”

He stepped forward, his eyes cutting into her. “You’re jealous that I spoke to Anika.”

“I’m not jealous of a damn thing.” She snapped.

But he ignored her as he kept stepping until the distance between them was nearly gone, the scent of his cologne mixing with the sweat on her skin and whatever was left of Stack on her lips.

“You know, I didn’t even know her name before you said it.” He murmured. “I don’t give a damn about that girl. And you’d know that if you stopped reacting for two seconds and just calmed the hell down.”He snapped. Juicy opened her mouth to argue, but Smoke cut her off, voice sharper now, eyes burning into hers. “You trying to make me feel some type of way with Stack was a waste of your time. ’Cause I know how you feel about me. I see how you feel about me. And you kissing on Stack doesn’t change that. Doesn’t change how I feel about you either.” He shrugged.

Juicy’s heart thundered in her chest. He stepped even closer, their bodies nearly touching as his voice dropped to a husk. “Seeing you up on my brother didn’t do nothing to me… ’cept give me a front row seat to how hot you get when you’re trying to prove a point.”

Juicy’s lips parted, her breath shaky.

“So go ahead.” He said, eyes dark and sure. “Just ‘cause you’re with him don’t mean you’re not mine. And just ‘cause you’re with me don’t mean you’re not his.”

She could only blinked, stunned.

“It’s been this way for a while, Juicy. And it’ll keep being this way. Until one of us figures out how to stop loving you.” His eyes softened, just a little. “And that ain’t happening. For a long time, not for me.”

Juicy didn’t know what to say. Her anger had drained, replaced by a strange ache in her chest. Smoke had always been intense, but this was something else. This was… raw. Emotions she’d never had to deal with, things she’d never thought he would ever say.

She was still trying to gather her thoughts when the sound of a sink shutting off echoed from behind the bathroom door. Then it creaked open, and Stack stepped out, wiping his hands on his trunks.

He stopped cold at the sight of them—Juicy cornered, Smoke towering, both of them staring at each other like the rest of the world had disappeared.

Stack’s voice cut through. “Hell goin’ on here?”

Juicy blinked fast and turned away, suddenly breathless. Her feet moved before her brain did, her wedges clicking quick down the hallway as both men watched her retreat.

Stack’s eyes followed her for a second, then turned back to his twin. “The hell did you say?”

Smoke leaned against the wall again, calm, like the storm hadn’t just passed through his chest. “Nothin’ she ain’t already know.” He said. “She just finally admitted it to herself.”

Juicy rushed out of the building, heart still pounding in her chest from whatever that moment had been. She didn’t stop to check if anyone noticed, didn’t pause to let the warm summer air cool her down. Her sandals slapped against the pavement as she beelined back to her lounge chair, a sigh slipping through her lips the moment she dropped into it, like a weight being let go.

Mary sat in the chair next to hers, legs crossed and a glossy magazine propped in her lap, the same one Juicy had been reading earlier. She looked up, immediately catching the faraway glaze in Juicy’s eyes.

“Aye, what’s up with you?” Mary asked, folding the magazine shut and turning in her chair with concern laced under her playful tone.

“Nothing.” Juicy responded flatly, sliding her gold rimmed sunglasses back down onto the bridge of her nose before lying back, her head tilted toward the bright sky. The air was thick with chlorine along with a faint scent of grilled meat floating over the pool area. But Juicy didn’t notice any of it. Not now.

Mary furrowed her brows, watching her for a second, but didn’t press. She knew Juicy well enough to know that if she didn’t wanna talk, she wouldn’t. So she turned her focus back to her magazine, flipping a page with an acrylic click.

A few minutes passed, a soft summer breeze blew through the trees, rustling the umbrellas and pool floaties. The sun had shifted slightly, casting a golden sheen over everything. From the corner of her eye, Juicy noticed two familiar shapes emerging from the building. Smoke and Stack.

They weren’t being subtle either—eyes trained directly across the pool, right at her.

Still, she kept her gaze upward, acting like she hadn’t noticed. Her whole body was tensed like a live wire though, her chest tight, lips pursed and hand fidgeting with the thin strap of her bikini top. Their area had gotten more crowded, people swarming around the life guard chair, someone trying to flirt with Megan, others leaning over the fence and their bags strewn around. It was noisy and chaotic—but not enough to drown out the presence of the twins as they made their way over.

Smoke dropped himself casually at the end of Juicy’s lounge chair, while Stack took his time, leaning coolly against the tall lifeguard chair like a king surveying his court. Juicy’s lips tightened but she didn’t say anything. She just stayed laid out, arms crossed over her chest, legs stretched long and golden in the sun, pretending the sky was more interesting than the weight of their gazes.

It wasn’t until Mary broke the silence that Juicy finally stirred. “Oh, girl, I almost forgot!” She said suddenly, closing her magazine and shifting closer. “I overheard Shante talking, and turns out, Donavan and Anika broke up because he supposedly got another girl pregnant, right?”

Juicy tilted her head slightly toward her friend, lips still tight. “Right…” She said, low and distracted.

Smoke shifted, placing her legs into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Juicy glanced down at the feeling of his palms on her skin. Warm and familiar. She didn’t say anything, but her jaw flexed. Mary noticed it too but powered on, already locked into her gossip.

“Well come to find out, that was a lie. Anika cheated on him. But guess with who.”

“Who?” Juicy and Stack asked in unison, a beat of accidental harmony. The chubby girl looked up at him, be he seemed just as engrossed as her.

Mary leaned in, voice dropping like she had government secrets. “Antwon.”

Juicy’s shades shot up as she gasped, leaning up on her elbows. “Our Antwon?” She asked, disbelief written across her face.

Mary nodded eagerly. “Yup.”

Juicy gasped again, hand to chest like her pearls had just been clutched. The twins on either side exchanged looks before focusing in on her. “What do you mean, your Antwon?” Stack asked, narrowing his eyes. His gold chain glinted in the sun as he looked down at her.

Juicy rolled onto her back again, meeting his stare with a smirk. “Not like that. Y’all know Antwon. Everybody knows Antwon. He got me and Mary into clubs, concerts, we even went on a road trip to Florida with him once. Mary, you remember that?”

Mary grinned wide, eyes sparkling with memory. “Hell yeah. That was fun as hell too. Ooo, do you remember that white boy who ate—”

“No! I don’t!” Juicy hissed, cutting her off sharply. Her eyes widened slightly as she darted them between the two men. Mary caught on to the hint and fell quiet.“Oh, yeah… me neither.” She mumbled, flipping a page in her magazine like nothing happened. “Can’t believe she cheated with Antwon.” She mumbled, bring the conversation back.

“Wait—what were you about to say?” Smoke asked, tone lighter, but his curiosity clear.

“Yeah, me either.” Juicy said quickly, waving off the moment like it didn’t matter. “I mean, I thought he was too square for her. She sort of has a type.” Her eyes drifted toward Smoke deliberately. “No offense to you or anything.” She snarked with an upturned lip in disgust. Smoke didn’t respond with words, he just smirked and tapped her leg.

“What white boy?” Stack pressed, not letting it go and he was a bit annoyed that he was begging ignored.

Mary spoke again, trying to pivot back. “I heard she only did it ‘cause Donavan cheated first. I guess this was her way of getting even. That, and for always flirting with you.”

Juicy’s head snapped toward her. “Excuse me?”

Mary blinked innocently. “Flirting with you all the time.” She repeated. “He does it right in the girl’s face. Remember when you worked at Waffle House last year? He’d be in there every damn day.”

“That’s because the auto shop was right next door. You know that’s where his brother used to hang. And you were in there every day too.”Juicy countered.

“I was there for free food. He was there to see that ass in them True Religion jeans.” Mary grinned.

“Oh, so you weren’t there for me? And is my ass my defining quality now?”

“It’s one of your best.” Mary said with a wink.

Stack chimed in at the same time, “It’s the most prominent.”

Juicy turned and gave him a full glare, but he just grinned at her, his gold tooth glinting, completely unbothered. She flipped him off with a lazy hand and turned back to Mary. “Don’t say it like that. I worked there for two weeks.”

“And you apparently couldn’t survive without me.”

“Anyways!” Mary said loudly, cutting them off. “Those two weeks you did work there, he was up in there with Anika trying to get at you.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”Juicy muttered, sliding her shades back down.

“That’s ‘cause you’re oblivious unless somebody pours it on thick. That’s why you flirt so boldly.” Mary said, eyebrow raised with precision.

Juicy turned to look at the two men next to her. Smoke was already watching her from behind her glasses while Stack raised a brow thoughtfully, then nodded in agreement.

Juicy scoffed in disbelief, dragging a hand over her face.

“I just hope Antwon knows what he signed up for,” Mary added. “I would hate to defend my good friend by laying hands upon that New York City street rat.” She hissed the insult with venom, casting a sharp glance across the pool toward Anika, who was laid out on her stomach, ass perched like a billboard ad.

Juicy followed her gaze, lips curling in disdain. The memory of Anika talking to Smoke earlier flashed across her mind like lightning. Without a word, she pulled her legs from Smoke’s lap and gently pushed him away with her feet. He let it happen, grinning like he knew exactly what was on her mind.

Before he could say anything, Stack broke the tension.

“Juicy.” He said, voice low and slow, syrup-thick and sweet as a ‘issippi drawl.

She looked at him, her head turning lazily, curiosity flickering behind her glasses. Her lips stayed in that soft pout she always had when she was trying to decide if she was irritated or not.

“Can you go get my shirt outta my car?” He asked, almost too casually. Her gaze narrowed a bit, searching his face. “Back seat, behind the passenger.” He added, eyes holding hers with a bit of challenge. “You’ll know which one.”

The way he said it—it wasn’t just a request. It was a demand with a flirtatious flair. Like an invitation wrapped in something silky but toxic.

Juicy let out a slow sigh, already halfway annoyed, halfway entertained. She pushed herself up from the cool edge of the lounge chair, brushing imaginary dust from her thighs, the hem of her skirt rising with the motion.

“You got two working legs, Stack.” She muttered.

“Yeah.” He said with a grin, eyes never leaving hers, “But I got you, too.”

Smoke let out a low chuckle, deep and rich like the rumbling of a distant engine. Mary popped her gum, watching the exchange with raised brows, eyes bouncing between them like it was her favorite TV show. Juicy didn’t say anything for a beat, just stood there, hand on her hip like she was giving him one last out before she really got mad. When Stack simply smirked, smug and warm and cocky, she huffed, holding out her hand.

Stack reached into his pocket and tossed the keys to her in one smooth motion, letting them land in her palm.

She stared at him for a moment longer, lips twitching like she might smile if she weren’t so annoyed, then turned on her heel with that signature switch in her hips—the one she didn’t even know she had.

She walked across the gravel and out the gate toward the car parked a bit out of plain sight. Only the folks at the cars could see her now, not the ones chilling by the water.

The summer heat kissed her shoulders as she reached the familiar beeper keychain, unlocking the car with a soft chirp. She opened the door and leaned into the back seat, immediately spotting the black wife pleaser folded messily behind the passenger seat. Reaching for it, her fingers brushed the fabric—cool against her warm skin.

That’s when she felt it. A hand on her lower back.

She gasped, whipping around fast and swinging without thinking. Her palm connected with someone’s chest, and a familiar laugh followed.

“Damn!” Stack chuckled, wincing a bit but still grinning like the mischievous man he is.

“What the hell, Stack!” Juicy snapped, swatting him again, this time on the arm.

“I’m sorry!” He said, still laughing, holding up both hands like he was surrendering. “Relax, girl, damn. You got a bit of a much on you”

“You had me come all the way out here just to follow me?”She asked, her voice tight with disbelief.

“Yeah.” He grinned, leaning his back against the car with his arms folded and that same soft, unreadable look in his eyes.

“For what, Stack?” She asked, arms folded now, the heat and tension settling into her bones. “To get me alone or some?”

He tilted his head slightly, dark braided curls brushing the male of his neck. “Yeah.” He repeated, the word quieter this time.

Her breath was caught at that one word. “For what, Stack?” She asked again, softer now.

“I wanna know what Smoke said to you earlier.” He said plainly.

That threw her then, and she only blinked before her eyes fell to the shirt in her hand. She sighed, voice dipping low. “It’s… complicated.” She muttered:

Stack shifted, facing her fully now. “Try me.”

She looked up at him, really looked at him. The way his eyes softened when they were just the two of them. The brightness behind them, always shining a little extra when he looked at her. It did something to her—something she wasn’t sure she had words for yet.

She let out another sigh and moved to sit on the foot panel of the car door, body half-twisted toward him, the metal hot beneath her.

Stack slid into the back seat, legs dangling out, watching her with a kind of focus that made her fingers tremble as she picked at the gems on her nails. She hesitated, her mouth opening to speak but no words coming out as her bear beat increased. Then she decided to just finally come out and say it.

“I like you, Elias.” She said, eyes moving up from her fidgeting hands to search his. Her voice was small but steady.

Stack blinked at her before a slow grin spread across his face. “Okay.”

She bit her lip, starting at him before she pressed on. “Like, a lot.” She blinked at him, her heart banging behind her ribs. “Like… I wanna be with you.” She admitted.

Stack didn’t move for a beat. Then, his large hands reached out and covered hers, stilling her fidgeting. His skin was warm, grounding. “That sounds like music to my ears, mama.” He said, voice low and smooth, like velvet to her skin. “Keep talkin’ like that and I’ma have to show you a few things.” He grumbled as he leaned in. Juicy laughed softly, shy and breathless, even as his lips met hers. He kissed her slowly. Pocketed kisses that were quick but tender, like he was tasting each one before giving her the next. And in between each one, he pulled back just enough to look at her. Really look at her with her long lashes flush against her cheeks.

Juicy kissed him back, nerves fluttering in her stomach like summer fireflies. But the next part—the next part tangled her up. “I also feel the same way for Elijah.” She mumbled, barely audible.

Stack blinked. His face didn’t fall, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He just sat there, quiet.

“I’d understand if you don’t—”

“I don’t care.” He cut in.

She looked up, startled. “What?” She asked, brows furrowing.

“I said I don’t care.” He repeated. “I mean… I don’t mind that you feel the way you do about Smoke. As long as you feel how you do about me like you said. That’s what matters to me.”His voice was steady. But instead of relief, Juicy felt the ache in her chest grow.

“I thought that would help.” She whispered, “but it only makes things worse.” She whined, placing her hands over her face.

Stack leaned forward, amusement clear on his face as his hand slid along her back, fingers trailing over skin exposed by her halter top. “Aw, and why’s that, mama?” He murmured, lips brushing against the curve of her ear.

“Because now I gotta choose.” She said softly, eyes glossy. “And that’s something I never wanted to do.”She said as she leaned forward and placed her cheek against his thigh, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her like a hug.

Stack stroked her back in long, gentle circles, quiet for a moment.

“You don’t have to choose.” He said finally.

Juicy lifted her head slowly, eyes full of question.

“What?”

He smiled down at her, soft and unguarded. “I mean it. I ain’t askin’ you to pick. I’m askin’ you to be real. With me. With him. With yourself.” He stated.

She stared at him, heart thudding hard.

“I already know how I feel about you. And I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Juicy’s throat tightened, her fingers curling in his lap. The world around them faded into the hum of summer—the distant pool splashes, the low drone of 112’s “Cupid” playing from someone’s speaker. But in that moment, all she could hear was her heart and his voice, intertwining like a melody she never wanted to end.

She lifted her head from Stack’s lap slowly, brown eyes glimmering with uncertainty, the same way they always did when she tried to guard her heart but didn’t really want to. “What?”

Stack smiled down at her, easy and entirely unbothered. It wasn’t the cocky kind of smile he usually wore. It was soft and honest. Vulnerable, even.“I mean it.” He said, his voice low and steady, like it had been rehearsed in his chest for weeks. “I ain’t askin’ you to pick when I already know I got you.”

Juicy’s heart thudded so loud in her chest, she swore Stack could hear it. She just stared at him, her lips parted like she wanted to say something but forgot how to speak. His words hit somewhere deep—somewhere behind her ribcage, tucked under all that sassy-girl bravado she wore.

“I already know how I feel about you.” He continued, brushing a knuckle down her jawline. “And I ain’t goin’ nowhere, baby. So, if you don’t mind it… I sure as hell don’t.”

That last part melted something in her. Something tight and tangled in her chest. Her fingers curled in his lap, picking at the edge of her acrylics like she could fidget the feelings away. The moment thickened around them, time slowing to a crawl. The world outside—Smoke, Mary, the pool, the music, all of it—faded into a muffled hush.

“Really?” She whispered.

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation, his hand coming up to cradle her cheek. His thumb brushed over the curve of her cheekbone, soft as breath. “I meant what I said. I don’t care about the rest. I care about you.”

“You don’t mind?” She asked again, still trying to wrap her head around it. Her voice was higher now, tinged with disbelief. As if love that easy—love that open—was too good to be true.

Stack chuckled, and it was low and warm, wrapping around her like a hug. “No, baby, I don’t.”

And something in her broke open.

“Oh, Stack.” She breathed, her whole body softening as she looked at him like he’d just handed her the moon. And before she could talk herself out of it, she moved. Pounced on him again like she had earlier in the hallway—only this time it wasn’t playful. This time, it was desperate.

Her lips crashed onto his with heat, hunger, and the kind of reckless passion that made her forget they were in the back of his car and not in some steamy and searing dream. She pushed him into the leather seat cushions, and the car creaked softly beneath their bodies.

Stack let out a surprised grunt, caught off guard for all of two seconds before instinct kicked in. His hands gripped her like he’d been waiting to, one large palm immediately claiming her bottom while the other slid up her spine, pulling her closer. Juicy kissed him like she was starving, like he was the only thing that could satisfy her craving, and Stack responded by letting his mouth part just enough for her tongue to taste him.

When she finally pulled back, both of them panting lightly, her hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. Her eyes were wild and soft all at once, pupils blown wide, lips swollen. She looked at him like she couldn’t believe he was real. “I could just eat you.” She groaned hungrily, breathless, before diving back in, lips finding his again like she was scared they’d disappear if she stopped.

Stack moaned into her mouth, a deep, possessive sound as his hands roamed, mapping every curve of her like he already knew them by heart. Her thighs straddled his lap fully now, riding the heat between them as his fingertips slid beneath her skirt, brushing against the small of her back. Skin on skin. Heat on heat. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

“I been wantin’ this.” He muttered between kisses, his voice husky. “You don’t even know, baby. Every time you walk past me with those damn hips swingin’, or when you laugh with that hand over your mouth like you shy—”

“I am shy.”She whispered against his lips, smiling, her hips slowly rocking against his lap.

“Not with me.” He grinned, dragging his mouth along her jaw to kiss at her neck. “Never with me, baby.”

She whimpered at that, fingers tangling in his hair as his mouth worked a slow, open kiss beneath her ear. Her body arched against him, her back curving like she was offering herself up, and Lord, if Stack didn’t look like he was about to pass out from how sweet she felt on top of him.

“You don’t know what you do to me.” She whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him, breath shaky. “I’m tryna be good but you make it so damn hard, Elias.” She whined.

Stack smirked, dragging her lip between his teeth before letting go. “Don’t be good then.”

That broke her.

She kissed him again—messier this time, much needier. Her arms looped around his shoulders as if holding him tighter could erase the confusion, the guilt, the ache in her chest about Elijah. But for now, there was only this. Only him.

Stack's mouth was a trail of fire on her skin, his lips and tongue leaving a path of goosebumps as they explored her collarbone, her neck, her shoulders. Juicy's breath hitched, her pulse racing like a wild animal as she arched into him, her body crying out for more. The heat between them was a living thing, an inferno that licked at their nerves and made their limbs tingle with anticipation.

She rolled her hips against him, feeling his hardness press against her center, and a soft moan escaped her lips, a sound that was part plea, part invitation.

"You feel too good to be real, baby…" Stack growled against her throat, his voice a gravelly rumble that sent shockwaves through her as his hands gripped the flesh of her ass.

Juicy's nails dragged lightly across the nape of his neck, eliciting another groan from him, a sound that was pure, unadulterated longing as his hips bucked into her, his hard never pressing against her clothed clit, inciting a sharp moan from her. He was her tormentor and her savior all in one, and she was utterly at his mercy.

As his hand dipped further beneath the waistband of her shorts, she froze, her breath catching in her throat like a bird trapped in a cage. She placed a soft but firm hand on his chest, stilling his movements, her heart pounding wildly.

"Wait.” She whispered. Her eyes locked with his, and she saw the surprise flicker in his gaze, but no annoyance, only a hint of curiosity and a world of unspoken questions. Stack blinked, pulling back slightly, his lips still grazing her collarbone, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake. "What is it, Juicy?" He asked, his voice a low, concerned murmur, laced with a hint of confusion. "You okay?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath, her cheeks flushing slightly as she gathered her thoughts. "I—I don’t wanna go all the way yet.” She admitted, her voice soft but certain. "Not till we’ve had our first date. I want it to mean something. Not just the heat of the moment and hormones. I want it to be real, Stack. I want you to want me for more than just this."

He sat up more, the tension in the car shifting as he processed her words, his eyes never leaving hers.

A slow, boyish grin spread across his face, a grin that held a thousand promises and a touch of mischief. "You mean to tell me this ain’t real?" He teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something more profound, something that made her stomach do a series of flips. Juicy narrowed her eyes playfully, a small smile playing on her lips. "Stack, you know what I mean.” She said, brushing a stray curl out of her face, her hand trembling slightly. "I just... I want to take our time. I want to build something real." She admitted.

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, his eyes never leaving hers. "Alright, I get it. You're killing me, though, ma. First the couch yesterday, then the hallway, and now this. You're killing me, you know that?" He said, his grin never wavering, his eyes dark with desire and something softer, something that looked a lot like affection.

Juicy leaned in, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw, her breath hot against his skin. "Well, said I wanted to wait on sex.” She whispered. “Didn’t say I couldn’t help you in other ways.” She says, her voice a sultry promise, a tantalizing tease. Stack went still, his eyes darkening with surprise and interest, his breath hitching slightly. "Didn’t you just say wait?" He asked, his voice creeping on amusement.

"I did.” She confirmed, her smile innocent but her tone anything but. "But not for everything."

He blinked slowly, licking his lips as if he needed a moment to process the weight of her words. The look he gave her was intense, a look that promised a world of pleasure and one that made her heart race and her body ache with longing. "You sure about this, Juicy?" He asked, his voice hoarse with desire and need.

She nodded, her eyes smoldering with want. "If you’re okay with it.” She said, her voice a soft.

A tense pause lingered between them, thick with desire and anticipation. The air was electric, charged with a tension that was almost painful, almost unbearable. Stack exhaled deeply.

"Damn right I’m okay with it.”He muttered, his voice low and reverent.

Juicy just smiled. She took her time, savoring the moment and the look in his eyes. The feel of his body beneath hers and the sound of his ragged breaths. Her fingers danced along the waistband of his sweats, a teasing, tantalizing promise of things to come. The music outside shifted to something even slower and more sensual, another old-school groove made for moments like this.

She could feel the anticipation building, could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, like a spring ready to snap. She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his sweats, feeling him spring free, hard and ready, a testament to his desire and his longing for her. Her mouth practically watered at the sight of him, hushed dick thick throbbing in need. She took in a sharp breath as a rush of liquid dotted the center of her bikini, she could feel it. Just the sight of him set things off in him.

Stack's breath hitched, a sharp sound. His eyes never left hers, even when hers moved. He never wavered, never broke contact, as if he was afraid she would disappear. That this was all a dream, a fantasy, a figment of his imagination. "Juicy.” He whispered, her name a prayer on his lips, a plea.

She leaned forward a bit as her eyes made their way back to his, looking up at him through her lashes with her head still angled down. And he watched as her mouth opened slightly and a trial of clear saliva dribbled out.

He took in another breath, closing his eyes briefly at the feeling of her spit hitting his dick. He opened them again, just in time to see Juicy lick her lips, her eyes still trained on his face. She took his member in to hand, her grip firm, and she began to move her hand slowly, a torturously slow pace that was designed to drive him wild as she worked her slick around him. A smirk played on her lips as she felt him respond to her touch, as she felt his body tense and watched his muscles coil under his bare chest.

She was in control, and she loved it. This dynamic and sense of power was new to her and she loved it. The look in his eyes, loved the feel of him in her hand, loved the way he reacted to her touch.

"Like that?" She whispered, her voice low and sultry as she tightened her grip on him a bit. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of innocence and mischief, a dangerous combination that was guaranteed to drive him wild.

Stack could only nod, his throat tight with anticipation and need as his adman apple bobbed. "Yeah, just like that.” He managed to rasp out, his voice a low in a desperate sound. His hips lifted slightly to meet her strokes, a silent plea for more, for something faster, something harder. He hummed as the feeling of release built up in his core, and Juicy leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. Her breath was hot against his skin and her voice a low, sultry murmur. "I want you to feel good.” She said, her words a declaration of her intentions, of her desires and needs. "I to make you feel good. Want you to know how much I want you, even if we're taking this slow. I want you to know that I care about you." She continued.

Stack's hand found her other one, his fingers lacing through hers on his lap, his grip tight, almost desperate. His other one found her wrist and he guided her, showed her exactly what he liked, exactly what he needed, exactly what he wanted. He clearly just wanted to hold onto her, to ground himself as he felt his pleasure build. Their combined touch in a symphony of pleasure that was almost too much to bear.

The increasing pace, the ragged breaths, the desperate moans, the world outside fading away, the car becoming a place of pleasure and ecstasy.

"Juicy," Stack groaned, his voice a low, desperate sound as he struggled for control of his desperate need for release. "You're driving me crazy. You feel so good, baby. Mmm, fuck, I can't get enough.” He groaned.

Juicy smiled against his neck, her lips soft and warm as she placed gentle, reverent kisses on his skin, her hand never stopping its delicious torture, never wavering, never slowing, never stopping. She could feel his pleasure building, could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps and his heart pounding wildly against her hand, his body begging for release.

Stack's grip on her hand tightened, his fingers digging into her skin, his body tensing. "I'm close.” He warned, his voice hoarse with need. "I’m so close, baby. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop." He pleaded desperately in between the wet kisses he placed upon her lips.

Juicy increased her pace, not taking her mouth away from his as she hummed in pleasure, her strokes sure and steady. "Let go, baby.” She whispered, pulling back to place her forehead against his. “Let go for me.” Her voice a soft, commanding but pleading, as she held his eyes, their face mere inches apart.

With a final, shuddering groan, Stack did just that. His back arched off the seat, his muscles tensing and his mouth open in a silent scream as waves of pleasure crashed over him. Juicy held him tightly, her hand never stopping, while her other hand gripped his thigh, her nails digging into his flesh.

She felt it, the hot, pulsing release, the evidence of his pleasure spilling into her hand, coating her fingers. It was a testament to his ecstasy, a symbol of their connection. She slowed her movements, gentling her touch and soothing him as he came down from his high, her eyes never leaving his. Her gaze was soft, her expression tender and her heart full.

Stack's chest heaved, his body slick with a thin sheen of sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked at her, his eyes still blown and dark with pleasure. He then smiled, a slow, lazy, satisfied smile that made her heart flutter.

"Oh, Juicy.” He murmured, her name a prayer on his lips. "That was... incredible, baby.” He sighed. “You are... incredible."

She smiled back at him, her heart swelling with content, though there was an air of mischief still there in her smirk. She held his eyes as she brought her hand up to her lips, and slowly licked her fingers clean, tasting his essence. Savoring him and committing the moment to memory.

Stack's eyes darkened, his breath hitching as he watched her, his body responding to the erotic sight as he dick twitched against his stomach and a soft groan escaped his lips. "Fuck, Juicy.” He whispered, her name a reverent of his admiration.

She smiled, a slow and seductive before she leaned in, her lips brushing his in a soft, gentle, tender kiss. Stack kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her close, his body still trembling with the aftermath of his release, his heart pounding, his soul soaring.

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eloquentlytired · 3 months ago

Text

18+ NSFW. MDNI.

dreamlike — tommy miller x fem reader

warnings: slightly dark content, dark!tommy, smut, unspecified age gap but reader is over 22+, masturbation, handjob, cheating, tommy’s moral compass breaks down, unclothed grinding, surprise ending, sex outdoors, tension, maria ily this isn't personal I just rlly like ur man

notes: hi guys it's been 100 years I'm sorry ily + take this bc im ovulating 😎 tommy miller suddenly making me feel things bc of gabriel luna that's right. likes and reposts are appreciated🥹

“I don't think you've settled down quite just yet.” joel tells him one day while they're eating breakfast together. tommy glances, swallows then responds.

“I don't know what you mean.” but his eyes betray him as they return somewhere for the fifth time; at a distant specific table where you're reading some silly book again.

your food is yet to be touched while tommy’s and joel’s are nearly gone.

“tommy we're too old for this shit, you and I. you're my brother, I already know what you'll do before you even do it.” joel throws the bait and tommy bites it.

“I’m not doing anything joel except—”

“except eating Maria's food while throwing damn heart eyes at her.”

tommy hisses at joel’s truthful interruption, not so much at being interrupted but at the validation of those words.

“I’m just making sure she likes the food.” joel deadpans, tommy does the same right after because of his own words. gods, he is pathetic.

“fuck, just shoot me already.” joel shrugs at his brother's words and doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's grinning. “tell your wife, I'm sure she'll be delighted.”

tommy shakes his head and keeps on eating. he stresses over his thoughts so much that, lucky for you, he misses your piercing gaze and the bite of your lips.

he spends days trying to blame it on something other than him being a terrible person. the breakout, the virus, the living circumstances, the we need to work faster from Maria or that everyone depends on him for the hard stuff.

sure, tommy had chosen this in the first place but he doesn't even know if he wants whatever this is anymore. what does he want?

“mister miller!”

the tension leaves his shoulders as he watches you walk towards him, only wearing that favourite sundress of yours and an oversized jacket.

it's the first real summer that wyoming has felt since the outbreak. tommy only appreciates it because he's too lazy to gear up for winter.

“you’re early.” he says and finds himself smiling as you flop down beside him, sitting on the green weeds.

the snow is still melting but it doesn't make things less cold — but clearly you don't feel the cold he does.

“I helped in the kitchen so they let me off early.” you explain and tommy hums. he thinks about the past months when he'd found you during patrol, covered by the snow and nearly dead. he'd never ridden back home faster, urging for the medics to help you out and thank gods they'd done a great job. now you were here, a few months later, and trusting him more than anyone else while tommy was just a straight up bastard.

he fed you more than others, brought you new clothes that you might like and most importantly showed you his spot. that well hidden spot outside the fences which was an hour's walk away... it wasn't even special but it was spacious and quiet and a little cleaner — and suddenly he was calling it our spot instead of my spot.

for months you'd come here, chat with him and draw in your worn out notebook. the pages were running out and tommy made a mental note to find you a new one. fuck.

“what’s this?” tommy murmurs while his hand points at a very specific drawing on the left page.

he seems to pale while you just feel yourself growing hot. you'd drew him back in the cafeteria when he was looking at you, when he thought you were so unaware of his eyes but you always knew.

“I just—” you try to find the right words, or better yet the right excuse, but you can't. “I just did it.”

tommy catches on your tone as if you were afraid to receive a reaction. his reply surprises you.

“do I really look at you that way?” he asks and you nod, the strap of your dress falling off your shoulder clearly to test him.

tommy has never succeeded in any tests in his entire life.

you lay on the ground, indifferent about the weeds tangling in your hair. tommy’s face hovers over yours as he kisses you, one of his hands sneaking beneath your dress to squeeze your thigh and nothing more.

“tommy.” he swallows his own name from your lips, his lips kissing you feverishly yet the rest of his body doesn't dare move. tommy just sticks to laying beside you while his elbow achingly supports his weight.

he cannot trust himself to move, to slip between your thighs and only kiss.

the hand he's placed on your thigh earlier starts to retreat but you don't let it as you use both of your hands to capture his wrist.

“sweetheart.” tommy warns, his eyes blown wide with lust while his chest heaves up and down. he’s affected by this, feeling overwhelmingly lustful like he's young again, while also fearing the consequences of this. the aftermath of it.

for the first time you don't listen to him, pushing his hand between your thighs until his fingers come in contact with your soaked panties.

you hear him cursing beneath his breath, fuck this, as he touches you after what feels like forever.

he rubs you through your panties, his massive hand feeling the material soaking further as his thumb finds your clit. your head turns and you bury it in his chest while tommy just rubs.

his breath is hitched and he's in a far worse state than you for a different type of reasons. you drool on his shirt and throb against his fingers because you're excited, you feel good. on the other hand, tommy cups and fondles your pussy possessively while stressing over the limits. he can't do more than this — he shouldn't.

“can I touch your cock?” you whisper almost too shyly and tommy wishes joel would have just shot him when he had asked the first time.

your hand unzips his trousers and takes out his cock because tommy has obviously agreed, because it's your fault for looking at him with those sparkling eyes.

your foreheads collide as tommy touches you and you touch him.

his fingers eventually sneak beneath your panties because he wants it to be fair, you're touching his bare cock so he's entitled to your pussy right?— or maybe he really is just an asshole deep down.

nothing like the tommy that maria loves, nothing like the tommy that everybody respects. no, once again he's the tommy miller that only joel knows.

your fingers circle around his cock, feeling it at first, before caressing every inch of skin you can get. your eyes are on tommy’s as your foreheads keep touching and a soft smile occupies your face while you stroke his cock.

you're smiling and touching his dick and tommy likes it too much.

“you need a new notebook, don't you?” tommy asks through gritted as your fingers squeeze around his hard cock. because it's definitely the right time for conversations.

you nod, mouth slightly agape as his fingers circle your swollen clit and then dip between your lips, feeling you dripping.

“anything else?” he asks too softly while his nose brushes against yours, offering some intimacy that isn't just sexual.

“pencils?” you don't order him or demand. you ask because you care and tommy likes that you care in that way. it's always only if it's okay with you and that's exactly how he needs it.

“notebooks.. pencils.. whatever you say, it'll happen.” he slaps your pussy, not too hard, and you whimper.

you can feel your nipples hardening beneath your dress while your pussy simply leaks for tommy miller. your legs shift and you spread them.

tommy sways his hips, fucks his cock into your tight but soft fist and curses.

the summer breeze carries your soft whimpers and tommy’s gentle grunts. your hand strokes him a little faster as your thumb purposely brushes against his sensitive slit and you don't fail to notice the way tommy’s hips twitch when you do it.

the front of his shirt is a mix of your drying drool and his sweat but it doesn't bother him. his solid focus is to fuck your small fist and, of course, to pleasure you which is his first priority.

tommy can handle you, his middle finger circling your wet entrance slowly before he pushes in, the slide smoother than he'd expected. he adds a second finger minutes later, then a third.

you stroke his cock as he thrusts his fingers inside your pussy and for a while nothing else really matters.

the squelching of your cunt is loud and tommy curls his fingers inside you, reaching a place that makes you see stars. “tommy!” you gasp in that angelic voice and he goes a little crazy, fingers digging into your sweet spot as he becomes a little desperate with his thrusts.

your lower tummy shudders with delight and your thighs flex as his fingers thrust into your tight pussy recklessly, poking at those sensitive nerves every damn time.

tommy thinks you warn him about your orgasm but he's also not sure as he's too busy watching your face and your pussy reacting simultaneously. your eyebrows furrow and your mouth forms a small ‘O’ as your walls are suddenly gripping his fingers too tight, too deep.

you cum with a shuddering moan of his name and coat his fingers generously, becoming a spectacle. you squirt for him, because of him, and he'd draw out more if it wasn't for time running away from you two.

tommy seems confused when you push his hand away but then everything happens so fast. he can't stop it, he swears.

he watches as you roll to your side, your chest brushing against his, and slip his cock between your thighs. tommy can't breath when his entire girth slides between your pussy lips, soaking through, until his tip kisses your clit.

“no sweetheart—” tommy warns weakly but you're already moving, swaying. his cock is wet with your juices as it slides against your pussy, harder than ever, and he is utterly defeated.

“please cum on my pussy.” you mumble against his lips and he kisses you otherwise he might do worse. he satiates himself with this situation, sucking your bottom lip while thrusting his hips upwards and taking half of what he wants. something he doesn't deserve.

his balls swell and then clench as he orgasms, lowering his hips a little to cum on your pussy. he fulfils his promise, painting the surface white with his cum before resting his forehead on yours again. spent.

it's quiet for a long time as his arms remain lazily wrapped around your body. you melt against him, into him, and you two do your best to catch your breath.

when he looks at you again, the sun is setting right behind you and making you look surreal. you're like a dream while tommy is just there with a stupid smile on his face and half indecent because of what you've done.

then suddenly he doesn't feel real, his body is all too light before it gets incredibly heavy.

he hears his name being called out repeatedly tommy tommy tommy and he jumps, looking around with sweat dripping down his back.

maria stands over him as he lays on the couch because he's home — not outside the fence. not with you.

“I told you to cut day drinking with joel. he's bringing back old habits.” his wife tells him, pressing a kiss on his forehead before walking away.

tommy rises and stumbles to the window. the snow is still there, white and thick, while the red calendar on the wall reads December 25 like it's a fucking joke. like he'd never met you secretly in the spot that belongs to you and him.

reality hits hard as you pass by his house, that familiar notebook resting against your chest as you hug it preciously. you look at him instinctively, as if feeling his burning gaze, and you smile.

“merry christmas, mister miller!” you yell cheerfully and tommy nods, forcing his best smile.

miracles can only go so far and in the end, tommy can be content with just dreams.

#tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller smut #the last of us #tlou #gabriel luna #gabriel luna x reader #gabriel luna x you #tommy miller tlou #the last of us x reader #joel is there

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bluewxrld07 · 18 days ago

Text

Pins and Needles

Lando X Bff!Fewtrell!Reader

Summary: Y/N doesn't know where she and Lando stand anymore. Their once-tight friendship soon started to tear at the seams.

Warning(s): just pure angst, Lando being toxic (sorry y'all), making out, Charles Leclerc incoming, depression, lack of self-worth

A/N : I can't help myself y'all ok 🥲 This one is gonna hurt, I'm sorry but also not sorry. Enjoy 🙂 (Written and inspired by Nessa Barrett's song Pins and Needles)

Hand on the stove, I barely feel it

And when I let go, I'm already healing

This was not how it was supposed to go.

How it was supposed to wind up.

Y/N didn't even know how she got herself into this situation.

Deep down, she knew exactly how she got herself into this situation, she just didn't want to admit to it.

It started when one drunk night at the club in Monaco led to her becoming tangled up in her best friend's sheets, whispering sweet nothings to one another. The sly touches as the sun crept through the blackout curtains the next morning.

That was when their situation bloomed. Things had become messier between Lando and Y/N.

Little did Y/N realize just how deep she had fallen for the man she had known almost her entire life. He was comfortable. Familiar. Trustworthy.

At the start.

Things at the beginning were smooth. Nothing but absolute lust, addiction, and hunger. It rose and rose, some moments almot becoming reckless.

They couldn't keep their hands off one another. From sneaking around the paddock, to the club bathrooms, to the bedroom next door to Max's. It became reckless. Animals in heat. The craving was insatiable.

The pair didn't know if the sneaking around made them this way, or the fact that it was supposed to be a forbidden relationship. Max would've had Lando's head. He'd have six feet under the ground.

She didn't mean to fall more in love with the boy. She thought it would be harmless. Her feelings would subside. Not do the complete opposite and skyrocket. The way he had begun to treat their little situationship as if they were together is what got her the most.

He made her feel like she was the only one.

Till he slowly became more sloppy. Bailing out on plans more often, leaving her high and dry while saying something came up. The distance became clearer. It was the late-night visits that were only making a daily appearance. No talking, just becoming tangled in the bedsheets.

Their friendship had begun to fade out, only turning into meaningless sex. At least that's what she believed.

She never understood why. What had she done for him to pull away slowly? What was she missing?

Y/N couldn't tell anyone, as she didn't have anyone she told about it. Not trusting a single soul to keep it quiet if things got tricky. Especially not when Max had no idea of what was happening behind closed doors.

When he began to ask why her mood had become more glum, as if she had almost faded. She just used the excuse of lack of sleep, or was just having one of those days.

He didn't question it, only gave her a lingering look, then didn't push further. He knew better.

It wasn't long till she found out why. Why Lando pulled away from her, let their friendship fade out, as well as their late night hookups.

They say your name, I don't even hear it

You dug your own grave, and nobody's grieving

The articles all read and show him with a new girl, a blonde model and actress. She was pretty. His type, too. He looked happy, a genuine smile on his lips as he looked at her.

That's when she noticed the way her chest tightened, crashed in on itself.

He had been seeing this girl, Magui, she thinks her name was, without saying a thing to her. She thought they were close enough that he would've been honest. He has never lied to her. In all the years she had known him, it wasn't something he did.

She remembered when she found out, she sat there trying to figure out what to say to him. Her first message sounded angry. Hurt, betrayed, lost, and confused.

Instead, she clicked the power button off, thinking it was best to not say a word. Instead, she let it fade away. Let him fade away.

There had been a day Y/N was at her brother's, sitting on the barstool while he cooked food with Pietra.

"Is she nice?" she asks, hinting at Lando's new girl. Max looked at her with an unsure gaze, shrugging his shoulders.

"From what I can tell, yeah," he answers. "Still a bit skeptical about her, though. About her past, mainly. Everything is still unclear about what happened between her and Luisna. Lando won't really talk about it."

She nods, deciding not to push any further, picking at the food on her plate.

"Have you heard from him lately?" Pietra asks this time. "I haven't seen you two around one another lately. Usually it's hard to pull you both away from the other," she tries to joke. Max looked back at his sister with just as curious of a look.

"You two haven't been talking?" he asks, Y/N just shrugs.

"Not really," she admits. "Always says something's come up. It's fine, I'm not gonna push it. He's happy."

Max looks at her with a little bit of shock on his face. "You two have been close for years. Closer than him and me, why would he just push you away?"

Y/N knew the real answer to it, but she couldn't give that away. As she knew Max would lose his shit if he knew. Lando would be lucky to leave the brawl with a head on his shoulders if Max found out.

So instead, the girl just shrugs. "Don't know. Just assumed maybe he doesn't want to make things look weird with his new girl. Probably doesn't want her to think anything else."

Max scoffs playfully at that, pouring his eggs onto his own plate. "Trust me, if there was more, I would've known. She wouldn't have had anything to worry about. He'd have a lot more to deal with if that were the case."

She just stays silent, Pietra sensing the awkwardness in the room, deciding to change the subject.

Shot my heart with Novacane

Ice-cold, cut off my blood flow

It had turned into hearing from Lando every other week, and maybe seeing him when he came to help with collabs for Quadrant. When the pair would be streaming with the other streamers, he wouldn't so much as acknowledge her in the chat.

It would be short answers if anything.

Her chest burned every time she made eye contact with him, the gazes between the pair always having something between them. Something she couldn't quite explain.

It wasn't until she had been dragged out to a race day with Max and P, that she could feel the need to hide away in a corner for the rest of her life.

She kept her distance whenever Lando would come around, the boy not missing the way she would excuse herself when he came by.

He should've known.

He caused the tension between them. He pulled back when he only wanted to get closer to her.

He found another girl while in denial of how deeply in love he was with his homeboy's sister, and his best friend. Magui was his way out. His escape from his reality. Even if it wasn't the right way.

He had to let Y/N go, even if it meant he couldn't be in her life anymore.

At least that's what he told himself.

You think you're important,, boy, I've got bad news

You're mean and you're boring, they'll all forget you

Y/N had been standing over by the motorhomes, sipping on the coffee in her hand, when she felt someone bump into her back. The sip had turned into a mess, dripping down onto her white tube top she wore on the hot day.

She turned around to meet the eyes of a familiar Monégasque man, who looked at her in horror. "Shit, Y/N I am so sorry," he nervously chuckles, his eyes seeing the new stain on her top. "I should've been more careful. I was so caught up in the conversation I-"

"Charles," she giggles, making him look at her. "It's okay. At least it wasn't a hot coffee, yeah?"

He snorts while rubbing the back of his neck. "Now that I definitely would've never heard the end of."

She chuckles. "You still won't hear the end of this one," she jokes, making him give her a genuine smile before chuckling back at her. He motions to her shirt.

"At least lemme help get you a new top? I can't bear the thought of you having to be stuck with explaining how the stain came about."

"Ahhh I see you want to protect your perfect image, I suppose?" she tuts playfully, making him widen his eyes.

"What? No I meant like it would probably be annoying having to say the story a thousand times, or you could get weird looks from people, or-"

"Oh my goodness, Charles! I'm joking," she laughs while putting her hands on his shoulders. She watches him visibly relax at her touch and her words, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Sorry, I just," he chuckles breathlessly. "You make me nervous, is all."

She raises her brows, a small smirk on her lips. "Oh, I do now?"

He rolls his eyes with a groan. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this."

She hums. "I didn't know I made the famous Ferrari driver nervous," she jokes while crossing her arms and giving him a knowing look.

His eyes flicker down from her eyes to her lips for a split second, then he smiles at her. "A little."

"A little?"

He purses his lips. "Okay a bit more than a little."

She laughs at his little confession, Charles pinching her waist as he pulls her with him. "You can give me shit later," he laughs. "But right now let's go get you changed into something that doesn't have a stain on it."

She lets him drag her along to the Ferrari paddock, in search of Rebecca and Carlos, knowing the WAG always had a backup set of clothing on her when need be.

Once Charles had found them, he explained the situation, watching as Rebecca lit up and happily said she'd lend a helpful hand.

Y/N followed the girl, keeping up the small talk as they made their way to the Ferrari motorhome, where Rebecca had a cute top waiting for Y/N.

She knew she wouldn't hear the end of it, the color of the top being a bright Ferrari red. It was a one-shoulder cropped tank top, the color sitting beautifully on her skin. Rebecca gave her a low whistle, causing Y/N to chuckle and roll her eyes.

"Red looks so good on you," she says, making Y/N shrug. Rebecca gives her a knowing look, but says nothing as the pair made their way back to the paddock.

Charles did a double take when she returned, his eyes taking in the red top that adorned her skin.

He smiled as he walked up to her. "Red is your color I think," he says, making her roll her eyes.

"Rebecca said the same thing," she answers, watching him nod. "She's never wrong."

Y/N thanks Rebecca one more time, alongside a hug. "Think about it," Rebecca whispers into the girl's ear before pulling away with a wink.

Charles then walks Y/N back over to the McLaren paddock where her brother and P sat. Max frowned at his sister. "I've been looking for you. Where did you run off to?" his eyes then dart to the new top she was wearing, then back to Charles. He gave Max a look.

"I bumped into her and thought I could help her get a new top," he explains. "I felt bad. So blame me for stealing her. Sorry, mate."

Max chuckles while nodding. "Of course it's a red top too," he jokes, Charles ears turning bright red, he puts his hands up in defense.

"Blame Rebecca for that one," he sputters, Max doing a once-over with a smug smirk while nodding slowly. "Uh-huh," Max trails off. "Well, thank you for helping her out," he says, a smug smirk only getting wider.

Charles nods curtly, before facing Y/N with a small smile, and squeezes her side. "Good seeing you, cherie," he mutters to her, kissing her cheek before he leaves her. Y/N realizing her side feeling slightly colder than it did when his hand was there.

She turns to watch him leave and head down the stairs, biting her lip without realizing it. Her head turns back to face her brother and Pietra.

The pair is staring at her with smug and knowing smiles. Max leans back in his seat, crossing his arms and clearing his throat.

Y/N squints her eyes at them. "What?" Watching her brother nod at her.

"Someone has a crush."

She scoffs at her brother. "You're reading into things," she chuckles while shaking her head.

Pietra laughs. "Oh, honey, no. You two were staring at each other like you want to-"

"Don't even say what you're going to say," Max whines, covering his face. "I don't need to hear that."

Y/N just laughs, pointing at Pietra. "You're wrong on top of that."

Pietra rolls her eyes with a smirk, and before she can argue further, Lando is seen walking up to the group, making Y/N want to fade away.

Lando sees her, only doing a double-take when he sees the color of her shirt, also realizing that this was indeed not the color she was wearing earlier. He slowly points at her shirt, Max chuckles.

"Dear old Ferrari man has a crush on my sister," Max admits, then points at her. "She's crushing on him as well."

"Maxwell!" Y/N hisses, watching him crack up. She doesn't miss the way Lando's facial expression drops, something unreadable in his expression.

"What d'you mean?" he asks slowly. Y/N groans while hiding her face.

"What he means," Pietra starts. "Charles spilled coffee on her and helped her get a new shirt. And apparently that was his chance to get her in red."

Lando's eyes snapped down to Pietra, Max just sitting there in a fit of giggles as his sister kicks his shin.

"He was just being helpful," Y/N grumbles. "Besides, Rebecca was the one who gave it to me. Not Charles."

Max looks back at her. "Sure, we know that," he says between laughs. "But the eye fucking you two were doing before he left said more than that. Especially that little kiss move-"

"He kissed you?" Lando cuts in, his tone sharp and stern. Max and Pietra look at him with certain looks. His head and eyes only focused on Y/N in that moment, who was now shifting on her feet with her arms crossed.

"It was just on the cheek," she rolls her eyes before glaring at Max. "Stop making it sound like he laid me out on the table or something," she hisses, making Lando choke on his spit while Max gagged.

"That's vile, do not ever say that again," he points at his sister with a disgusted look. "Second, I'm only saying it because I think you two would be good together."

That makes her eyes widen in shock, watching him put his hands up in defense.

"Say what now? I thought you said no racers."

He hums with a nod before pointing out to Lando. "Yeah, I said that mainly for that one," he says, missing how his mate clenched his jaw. "Charles, on the other hand? I hope it does happen. He's one of the good ones."

Y/N coughs awkwardly, not missing the way Lando scoffed at his best friend's words, mumbling something under his breath as he crossed his arms.

"Can we just change the subject, please? I'm not crushing on Charles, and I'm not going to date him."

Max gives her a knowing look before turning his gaze towards Lando. He frowns. "You good, mate?" he asks, watching as Lando snaps his gaze at Max. He nods curtly.

"Just don't care to hear about her sex life, you muppet. Charles is a player and only wants what he can't have," he admits, not missing the way Y/N glared straight to the side of his face. "Anyways, we're getting ready to start. I was gonna walk you lots to the club level."

Max nods before taking Pietra's hand to guide her. Lando kept his pace next to Y/N's, the girl not missing how his hand would brush against hers every so often.

She could see the gears turning in his head, clenching his jaw every so often, as if he was preventing himself from saying or doing something he might regret. Max and Pietra were further ahead of them, happily making their way to the balcony in the club level of the paddock, overlooking the racetrack.

"He can't give you what I can," the brit says next to her, causing her to snap her gaze at him with a frown. She scoffs.

"That's awfully daft, coming from you," she shoots back. "You ghosted me, remember? You don't have a say in my actions."

"Oh, so you are seeing Leclerc huh?"

She scoffs. "Go check on your girlfriend, Norris. The one you dropped me for."

He glares at her. "Y/N-"

"End of discussion, Lando."

She walks away, a part of her wanting him to grab her and pull her back. Show her she was his. Even if it was behind closed doors. The other part of her was happy he didn't. She wanted him to see that he couldn't have her. He missed the opportunity.

Don't call me your ex, 'cause I never met you

She kept close to her brother and P the entire race, zoning out the entire time the race went on.

Her mind didn't know what to think.

She missed Lando. She really did.

The other part of her though, was also pulling towards Charles.

Y/N couldn't tell if it was just because of how Lando reacted, or because of how she felt a new feeling whenever Charles was near her.

Or how she caught her stare lingering longer on Charles as he took P2. Or how his eyes found hers in the crowd, staring back at her, his smile becoming wider when he saw she was staring first.

It's all pins and needles, babe

I feel nothing for you, nothing for you

Now, here she stood, in the VIP section of the Monaco club after Lando placed P1 at his home race.

She had a drink in her hand, pretty sure the glass could break under her grip. Her eyes did not leave the way his hands and body moved with the blonde on the dancefloor.

At this point she couldn't tell if she was jealous, or pissed off. Or both.

She watched as his hands moved along her body, how his lips never left her body as they danced. He looked like a wet dream.

"You hold onto that glass any tighter, it's gonna shatter and cut up that pretty hand," a familiar French accent says next to her. Her eyes snap out of the daze, turning to see Charles taking the spot next to her.

He nods at her slowly. "You alright, cherie?" he asks her, making her laugh to herself before spinning a finger around the rim of her glass.

"Honestly, I don't know," she admits, looking back at his confused frown. "Can I be honest?"

"Always."

She sighs. "I had been seeing this guy. We weren't anything exclusive, but at the same time, it felt like it. Then out of nowhere, he just stops. No explanation, no excuses, nothing. Just drops me like I'm nothing," she explains, letting a bitter chuckle leave her lips.

"Then I found out it's because he had another girl. I don't even know how long. It was just out of the blue, and I guess I shouldn't have been as upset as I was about it. But I can't help it."

Charles takes in every word she's saying, nodding and humming at the appropriate times.

"It burns my chest seeing them, seeing him, act like I never even mattered," she admits. "But then, I began to realize something else. There's this other guy. I didn't even realize I felt good around him. Like I could relax around his presence. Forget about why I was so hurt about the other guy," she explains, not even realizing how easy it had become to open up to Charles.

The way his expression showed no judgment. No sense of uneasiness as she spoke. Just a genuine expression that showed he was listening to her.

"And part of me wanted this guy I was seeing," she says more to herself. "But a bigger part of me really wants this guy that makes me feel seen. Heard."

Charles nods at her, taking a sip of his drink. "You alright if I give you my advice?" he asks cautiously.

She nods. "Always," she copies his words, making him grin at her.

He points at Lando. "He's an idiot for letting you go," he admits, watching her face contort to confusion, and then to shock before shaking her head.

"I didn't- How did-"

He laughs at her, stepping closer. "It's not hard to see. You two weren't as slick as you thought," he admits, Y/N feeling her face begin to heat up.

"I'm sorry," she admits with a sigh, looking down at her now-empty glass. "I didn't mean to sound like that. I just- I didn't have anyone I trusted to talk to."

"And I'm just easier to talk to? Someone you trust?" he asks her, leaning his elbow on the bar behind them, a knowing smirk on his lips. She snaps her head to him.

As she was about to say something, he stood up straight, walked to stand in front of her, and took the glass from her fingers. She doesn't miss the way his fingers brush hers, goosebumps rising on her skin. He places the glass on the mahogany behind them, his eyes lowering to her own. She gulps as she watches his smirk widen just slightly, while he places both hands on the bar behind her, caging her in. His face was dangerously close to hers, the Monégasque not missing the way her breaths came out shaky.

"As for this other guy," he starts, his tone lower. Darker. "I think he's very worth your time. He wouldn't make you feel like Lando did. He'd take care of you. Treat you right. Show you how a woman like you should be worshipped."

Y/N feels her pulse quicken. "Besides," he mutters, bringing his lips closer to her own. "If you're choosing between two people, choose the second. Because if you really did like the first option, you wouldn't have fallen for the second."

That got Y/N's insides churning, knowing deep down Charles was right. He was so right.

He chuckled darkly as he watched his chest rising and falling quicker after he said that, placing his lips closer to her ear as he placed a light kiss against the lobe. "The second guy also just really wants to be selfish," he admits.

Y/N smiles slowly at his words, letting herself indulge slowly with Charles. She lets out a gasp as she feels his lips planting feather-light kisses from her jawline, down to her neck and her collarbone.

She finally trails her hands up his button-up, slipping underneath the half-open shirt, slithering to rest on the bare skin of his back just before it meets the crook of his neck. His head leaves her neck, bringing his head closer to her own.

"So this other guy," she says breathlessly. "You think he'd worship me, huh? Show me how worth it I am?"

He hums with a nod, kissing the corner of her lips. Y/N found herself craving more, her body aching for his own against hers. Skin to skin.

"He'd do more than just that," he chuckles against her jaw. "He'd take his time with you. Show you exactly how a woman like you should be appreciated. Till you're shaking."

Y/N lets out a breathless moan at that, one of her hands finding his hair. "Spoil you to death. Treat you like the absolute Queen you are."

Charles brings his head back up to really look at her. Y/N staring back into his own eyes, flicking down to his lips for a split second. "Charles," she says softly, earning a hum from him. "Kiss me please."

That's all it took for Charles to take her jaw in his hands, placing a passionate and messy kiss on her lips. Their teeth clashed, tongues messily battling against one another as she kissed him with such need. Such obsession.

The more they kissed, the more they craved one another. Charles let his hands fall from her jaw to her hips, pulling her lower body into his.

Lando was long forgotten in Y/N's mind. He was the last thing she was thinking of; she could forget his name if Charles kept up the way he touched and kissed her.

Little did she realize, Lando was now frozen in his spot on the floor. His eyes darkened. He glared as he watched the girl his heart yearned for, and the guy who was going to be six feet under if looks could kill.

He could tell it wasn't just for show either. She really wanted Charles. Charles wanted her.

He only knew that because of how she was kissing Charles, it was the way she used to kiss him. His heart hurt, chest tightened. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene across the club.

Magui was long forgotten in that moment, Lando realizing he lost the girl he wanted most.

He should've known.

Y/N whines at the loss of Charles' lips when he pulls back, the man looking down at her blown-out state. Her lips swollen as her eyes look up at him with a knowing look.

"What do you say, cherie?" he says slowly, watching her slowly smile.

"I think I'm open to giving this other guy a chance," she jokes, watching him bite his lip to hide the big ear to ear smile that was forming.

He leaned down to kiss her once more, before breaking away and lacing a hand with hers.

Charles began to lead her away from the bar, his gaze locking with Lando's as they passed by.

He didn't miss the way Lando slightly mouthed a 'what the fuck' at his friend, a glare in his direction. Charles held his head up high, smirking at Lando, giving him a sly little wink before he turned his attention to Y/N.

Lando saw the way her eyes looked up at Charles, like she finally felt happy. At ease in his presence. Like she had forgotten Lando existed in that moment. She probably did, and that hit him like a truck.

He watched as Charles placed his other hand on her lower back to help keep her next to him as they pushed through the crowd, making sure not to lose her as they headed out.

Lando didn't even excuse himself from Magui, earning a shocked squeak from her as she watched him rush away from the dancefloor.

Lando scurried past everyone and towards the front entry, pushing past the people who were trying to congratulate him as he passed by.

He didn't give a single fuck about any of them, his mind only thinking about her.

Please. Don't go home with him

His mind begged, wishing she could read minds. Read his.

The way he knew he was already way too late. Months too late.

Once he had gotten outside, he had seen Charles shutting her door before turning to thank the valet workers. His eyes flicked twice over to Lando's state. Trying his best to hide the winning smirk as he saw the disheveled state of the British man.

Charles looked back at his car towards her window, before looking back at Lando. He walked up to him, Lando's gaze hardening as he got closer.

"Don't," Lando warns him.

Warning him to not cross this line. To not take the girl that Charles knew he was so in love with, not take her home. He didn't like this feeling. He hated it.

That's when he realized what it was.

Lando Norris was jealous. He was jealous beyond words.

He never gets jealous.

Not until now.

Charles chuckles at him, patting his shoulder. "Lando," he chuckles. "You ruined your chances. Give her the chance to finally be happy, hm?"

He shook his head. "You can't give her what I can give her."

Charles bites his lower lip before speaking. "That's the point," he begins. "I wouldn't treat her like shit, like you did. I'll give her everything she deserves, and more. Not give her nothing, like you gave her."

That made Lando feel like he had been shot in the chest.

“I won’t ever let her feel or think she’s only good for one thing,” Charles adds, giving Lando a knowing look. Lando’s face drops slightly, then frowns. “I’m going to show her she’s worth more than she could ever imagine. Because she is.” Charles admits, a genuine look in his eyes.

Lando doesn’t know what to say in that moment. He felt defeated.

Because part of him knew (all of him knew) that Charles was good for her. He wouldn’t treat her anything lower than the Goddess she was.

Lando just hated that it wasn’t him.

Charles pats him on the shoulder. "Goodnight, mate," he says before walking away and getting into the car. Lando watched as the pair drove off into the night. Something was burning inside Lando's chest. Burned in his eyes.

Tears.

Jealousy.

Need.

Y/N smiled to herself as Charles and she drove along the roads, his hand gently on her thigh while hers rested on top of his.

Her phone buzzed, not once, not twice, but three times. This caused her to pick it up and look down at it. She thought she would feel something, anything, as she read the messages.

Please, don't go with him. I'm so in love with you

Come back to me, I'll be better. It hurts to see you not with me. Hurts to see you happy with him. I'll prove myself. I'll do better, for you

It's always been you

Y/N takes a deep breath as she begins to type with her free hand.

Your time ran out. A long time ago, Lando. It's time I let myself be happy.

Goodbye Lando

With that, she turned her phone off and looked over at Charles. His eyes gazed back at her, nothing but admiration as he stared at her.

"You okay?" he asks softly. She takes a moment before nodding.

"Yeah," she hums. "I am now."

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris angst #lando angst #lando imagines #lando x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #lando norris #ln4 #cl16 #y/n #angst #formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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monotonesmile · 4 months ago

Note

Can i request pregnant batsis who was dumped by her bf because he didn't want a baby. And the batsis comes back to the manor. She's younger than Dick and Jason but older that Tim and Damian. Damian doesn't know her. And she tells them they going to be uncels and Bruce a grandfather?

Batfam & Pregnant!Batsis!Reader

[Warnings: Shitty boyfriend, enough said. Some swearing]

[Fic Genre: Headcanons, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff]

[Notes: I’m not exactly the best at writing anything pregnancy related but ya gotta practice somehow! Also it’s headcanons because I needed a break from writing full fics for a second.]

————————————————————

You realized you were late on your period so, just to be precautious, like your father taught you, you bought a pregnancy test, and waited for the results, anxiously waiting as you paced around the bathroom of the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, and when you got the results back, so many emotions flooded you as you saw those two little red lines, you were pregnant.

You knew you should tell your boyfriend, so you waited for his return from work. When you heard the door shut, you called him to the living room, then handing him the, cleaned, pregnancy test, you were nervous for his reaction, you were hoping he’d be at least supportive and help you, but instead he glared at the test before tossing it away, and then told you either you get rid of it or you’re breaking up.

His response made your body run cold, you never expected him to give you such an unpleasant ultimatum, abortion or breaking up, and you did not want to give up the baby, you had been wanting to be a mother for a while now, and now he’s trying to take that from you? After you’ve told him so many times that you were ready to be a mom? The man you’ve loved and were ready to be with forever, told you to give up your child.

So, you told him “Fine, if that’s the case, then you’re over.”

You gathered your essentials, not looking at him even as your heart broke, carrying a bag with your electronics, some clothes, and other important items, you left the apartment, texting the man you viewed as a grandfather to pick you up, you’re coming back to the manor after breaking up with your now ex boyfriend.

You waited for a few minutes with your thoughts, only now had you begun to realize all the red flags in your ex boyfriend, he never seemed interested in anything you said, whenever you brought up marriage or having kids, he would dismiss you, maybe it was about time you broke up, it probably just saved you from a horribly toxic relationship.

You were taken out of your thoughts when the familiar car pulled up to the parking lot of the apartment complex, your mind lightening slightly as you got up and got into the passenger seat, met by the butler and the man you and your siblings considered a grandfather, Alfred.

You explained the situation on the car ride to the manor, you could feel the sympathetic gaze coming from the older man as you pulled up to the imposing building, knowing you’d have to tell your family, and you could already guess their reactions.

[Bruce Wayne]

Bruce was the first one you told after you got back to the manor, it felt…awkward to say the least, telling your father you’re pregnant, but while you still feared a similar reaction to your ex boyfriend, Bruce didn’t react that way, he asked if you were alright, if you were worried, or ready. The fact that he had immediately focused on your wellbeing made you feel so much better about this situation.

Bruce would absolutely be a helicopter parent after you told him about your pregnancy, he would take you to the doctor appointments, he’d check on you hourly to make sure any of the symptoms of pregnancy weren’t bothering you too much. He’d absolutely get you the best doctors Gotham has to offer, or even doctors from outside the gloomy city, he wants you well taken care of.

All in all, he cares about his daughter, and he is very excited to be a grandfather, even if it’s just reminding him of his age, but he would want to help with setting up a nursery for the baby, 10/10 grandpa, he would adore the kid. (He’d also keep them the hell away from vigilantism.)

[Dick Grayson]

Now Dick would be the second person to know, and he, much like Bruce, would make sure you’re okay with everything that happened, while he’s excited to be an uncle, he also knows you just with through a breakup, and being the ladies (and men) man, he would be the one to comfort you through it, he’d help keep your mind off it by using horrible jokes and puns, he’d just be happy to make you smile.

Absolutely the one to feed in on your cravings if you get them, you want pickles and chips at three in the morning? Nightwing is seen in a 24/7 store trying to pick which one you’d like more, the media has a field day with that.

He’s the one that’s going to hold you through all of your emotions, your hormones are all over the place and he’s not going to be phased, you’re angry? He'll be angry at whatever you’re angry at with you. Sad about something you watched? He will be holding you through the tears. He’s had so many girlfriends, he knows how it works now, all the emotions that are bubbling up to the surface, and goddammit he will not let his little sister down.

Just a little thing, he absolutely loves baby shopping, adores it, he wants to buy every single outfit and toy, and is very pouty when you say you can’t get everything. Still picks out a shirt that says “Best Uncle” for himself, he taunts his brothers.

[Jason Todd]

Probably one of the last to know actually, he’s not at the manor a lot, so you’d have to tell him over text, and he would be breaking so many laws to speed his way to the manor because WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE PREGNANT AND YOUR BOYFRIEND BROKE UP WITH YOU BECAUSE OF IT!? Immediately offers to take care of your ex, he does not care, nobody gets away with that on his watch, he probably would still try it even if you said no.

Once he calms down, he will actually be around the manor way more often, he’s watching over you, probably the one that helps whenever you get morning sickness, or just, throwing up in general. He looms, a lot. It’s scaring people and no he will not stop, don’t bother asking.

He’s probably really good at giving massages, would be the one to help when you’re further along and your body is starting to ache and be sore, he would not want you to move around a lot. If he could, he’d carry you.

(Very huffy after Dick got the “Best Uncle” shirt, would buy a second one and write a number two on it.)

[Tim Drake]

God, this poor man is so tired and experiencing a system restart when you tell him you’re pregnant. I feel like Tim would probably just nod before disappearing into his room and immediately starts to do research on what you can and can’t eat while pregnant, and literally everything else, definitely becomes the most knowledgeable on the subject of pregnancy.

Tim would make you a mood board or something for the nursery, specifically of things you like. It's honestly kinda odd how he got everything so correct, but it’s definitely nice to have a physical idea of what you want to do for your baby’s room.

He probably made a layout of the nursery to your exact specifications and is so ready to build everything for it, crib, toy chests, a rocking chair? He’ll be the first to start building everything, his brothers would have to get there quick enough to help as well, they’d have you sit in so they know where to put everything.

[Damian Wayne]

Damian would also offer to take care of you ex, except he would make it a statement, as in, he will be going after your ex, you will have to stop him, he will commit to it, don’t test him, he’s protective over his family.

Honestly, he’s probably very confused, but he’s trying his best, he understands that you shouldn’t be doing anything stressful, so even in your early stages of pregnancy, Damian would literally take anything remotely heavy from your hands and carry it for you, it’s sweet, but he does it every. single. time.

Damian is going to fight Dick for that shirt, he’s going to be the favorite uncle, but when he can’t get the shirt from his older brother? He buys a different one, “Favorite Uncle”, Dick may claim to be the best uncle, but he’s going to be the favorite uncle, he’s taunting everyone with this fact.

[Bonus: Alfred]

Alfred is the only one that actually knows what he’s doing, he was there when Bruce was born, he knows how to help a pregnant lady, which is a much needed comfort for you.

You secretly bought him a “#1 Great Grandpa” shirt, he is going to wear it when you have the baby, he adores the shirt, even if he doesn’t wear it often, it’s special to him.

————————————————————

[Requests are open!]

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oceantornadoo · 6 months ago

Text

ch8 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: reader has some body insecurities and a small panic attack. also oral sex. not at the same time lmao

masterlist | next

In the hazy morning of the next day, John moves to get out of bed at his ungodly workout time. Instead of feigning sleep like usual, you grab his shoulder forcefully. He freezes, then turns to look at you as you prop yourself up on an elbow. “Stay.” You murmur, voice gravelly from sleep. “You sure?” He asks, but he’s already sinking back down into the mattress. You nod, then climb on top of him, your head in the crook of his neck like always. “Go back to bed, John.” And he does.

The thing is, John wasn’t supposed to marry her. She wasn’t Kyle’s first recommendation, nor second. He had recommended an oil heiress, which his Captain turned down. Next, an Irish mafia princess, also turned down. In fact, his Captain didn’t seem to want to be married at all. Which was fine, if this was a normal life where Kyle hadn’t been nicked off the streets after picking the pockets of a Price man and plopped into the office of John Price, a leader who needed sneaky men with audacity like Kyle. Now, Price was pushing 40 without heirs, and that needed to be solved quickly. The Riley sister was only offered as an offhand comment.

“Christ, sir, if y’re gonna be picky, might as well marry the Riley. Then we’ll have a real shitshow on our hands.” Instead of answering, John leaned back in his office chair and stroked his beard, like a villain from a movie. “She single?” If Kyle wasn’t better trained, his mouth would’ve dropped. But he was Head of Security for a reason, so all he did was hand his boss her file.

Kyle didn’t like the Rileys - specifically, John MacTavish. The bastard was always trying to one up him, with new toys on the streets and the threat of bombs lurking around every corner. He knew MacTavish was close with Ghost’s sister, having seen the two giggle, thick as thieves, at galas and weddings. If he was a stupider man, he’dve sensed an affair, but he knew she wasn’t Tav’s type. It was a well-kept secret, but Kyle kept it as well as his own. There were some lines you didn’t cross, even in this business.

Price flipped through the file, frowning at the data before him. “Ghost has had these weapons all this time?” Kyle shakes his head, pointing to a graph in the report. “It only really started when he recruited MacTavish, ‘bout six years ago. An’ my sources tell me the sister’s got a mind f’r business.” Price hums thoughtfully. Kyle knows what, or who, he’s thinking about. Shepherd encroaching on their territory, supplied with weapons from American ex-pats. The streets smell of gunpowder, more and more skirmishes by the day. “Ghost’s tryin’ t’ get cleaner.” It wasn’t a question, but a fact. Kyle’s informants had made him aware of the Riley family trying to buy businesses, only to be turned away when they found out who they were owned by. Price’s businesses for Ghost’s money and weapons. “Might not be the worst trade, sir.” Kyle murmurs. He can’t believe he’s proposing a wedding where he’ll have to see MacTavish on the other side of the aisle.

After said wedding, Kyle started regretting the whole thing. He knows what it is to love a man, to be in love with one, and that’s not what he has with his Captain. It’s more like seeing a big brother leave for college, knowing he’s nearby but out of reach. The plan was to have Mrs. X, as the security team had taken to calling Price’s future wife, live in a property an hour out of the city. Out of harm’s way but easy to visit when baby-making was required. The plan had been developed before they’d decided on a wife for him. It decidedly went out the window once he’d decided on Ms. Riley.

Suddenly she was in the Castle, changing decor and befriending staff. She was meeting with Laswell and had taken Terrance as her own, a change Kyle had not approved of. So, sure, he was a bit of a jerk to her. It was the childish notion that she’d taken his favorite person, and he’d lashed out, only to be reprimanded by said person. Kyle's in toddler timeout, and he's determined to make it right.

A few days after the Friday incident, he finds her eating lunch in the kitchen. It seems she’s finally befriended Chef, a feat he could never perform. Chef’s a French grandpa, huffing out syllables that don’t go together under his breath.

“What’re ya eatin’?” An odd opening, seeing as this is their second conversation ever. He plops down into the chair next to her as she sets down her sandwich, brows furrowed in a question. He can’t blame his Captain; she is pretty. Not his usual type in women, but her wit would attract any man. “Um, a sandwich.” She eventually responds, after getting over the shock of Kyle in her kitchen chair. He probably could’ve been smoother on entry.

“Right, well…” He looks at her and she stares back, like they’re locked in a game. He breaks away first, feeling like he’s lost. Kyle reminds himself he’s not a bloody twelve-year-old. “I liked wha’ you did with the sittin’ room.” That opens her up, a hesitant smile growing on her face. “Really? Those chairs were so uncomfortable, I could barely sit on them for more than five minutes without getting sore.” He huffs in agreement. There’s a reason no one meets in the sitting room. “Ya sure tha’s no’ the only reason you’re sore?” It slips out too easy, a question he’d usually tease one of his men with, not his boss’s wife. Kyle opens his mouth to apologize but is cut off by the sound of her laughter. It’s not manufactured to sound pretty, almost like a snort. “Sorry, I just haven’t heard those kinds of jokes in a while. You remind me of Johnny. Thank you for making me laugh, Kyle.” She seems almost grateful for his presence, and it doesn’t take an idiot to see she’s missing her family. Even if that means getting compared to MacTavish.

“Call me Gaz, ‘s what everyone calls me.” She nods contentedly, reaching for her sandwich to take another bite. The silence is peaceful, interrupted when he remembers why he originally sought her out. Kyle pulls out a report he’s been carrying and sets it near her plate, noting how she sucks in a breath at the title. Protection Plan for Mrs. Price.

“Since y’r openin’ up y’r store, Price wanted me t’ give ya a team. Could’ve done it on my own but I had a feelin’ y’d want to give some input.” She nods thoughtfully, pushing her plate away to focus on the report. It’s a few minutes until she finishes it, diligently reading every page. “I want at least one woman on my team. And I still want freedom, I don’t want to be followed everywhere.” He sucks in a breath at her words, which won’t be possible if Price has anything to say about it.

“Righ’ well, can’t guarantee tha’ second part. Not sure if ya’ve noticed, but London’s an active war zone right now. They’ll be discreet, an’ the lowest amount I can do is four.” She harrumphs, crossing her arms like how his Captain does when he’s upset. It’s eerie how they’re already starting to mirror each other. “Fine, but I want Terrance on it.” Kyle nods, going to stand.

“Gaz.” She grabs his forearm to get his attention. “I know we didn’t get off on the right foot, but I’d like to be friends. If you’re willing.” He gives her a half smile, ruffling her hair. Kyle doesn’t notice how she freezes at his action, like she’s trapped in a memory. “Only if ya give me the rest of y’r sandwich.” Unfreezing, she laughs and pushes the plate towards him. “Don’t worry, there’s enough to go around.” He winks at her, and heads towards the security room. He might’ve accepted Terrance’s earlier security report, but he’s determined to make it up to his Captain, starting with re-running Phil’s background. Kyle’s got some security tricks up his sleeve, and he’s ready to prove his title to John.

The dress fits you like a glove.

It’s a fresh Saturday night, London’s night sky only slightly smoggy. John’s been invited to some benefit for cancer, a philanthropic cause you didn’t even know he supported. So now, you’re in a formal red dress, floor length with a high thigh slit. You stand in front of your vanity and smooth down the satin fabric, ready to slip on your heels. You usually do that step first, but they’re a mile high and you didn’t want to risk slipping on the carpeted dressing room floor. John’s been in the shower, but now he’s buttoning his shirt in the other room. Your dress is unzipped too, requiring a force of nature for the zip to go all the way to the top.

“John, can you help me?” He’s there in an instant, arms circling the length of your waist. “You look so fuckin’ good. Smell fuckin’ delicious.” He noses the crook of your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your perfume. John rubs his hands up and down, smoothing out creases in your dress. “So pretty f’ me, aren’t ya?” All you can do is nod when he’s like this, allowing yourself the precious gift of easy affection. “Can you help me with my heels?” He kisses your exposed collarbone, then squeezes your hip as he goes to find your heels. They’re higher than what you’re used to wearing, putting you closer to eye level with John. He goes to his knees, finding your right leg through the layers of fabric in his way. You got a pedicure the day before, patting yourself on the back as he kisses the top of your foot. “What’s gotten into you? It’s like you're under a spell or something.” He’s quiet as he slips on your shoe, kissing your ankle before setting it back down. John reaches for your other foot in quiet reverence. “Ya look like a princess.” He finally murmurs, having finished with your heels. “You feelin’ ok?” He asks. You shrug. Clearly, you haven’t hidden your nerves well. This is your first official entrance into mafia society as a couple, even if the lines of your relationship are too blurry for you to understand.

“Let me make ya feel better?” His hands are already tracing your plush skin, parting the slit of your dress. He works his way up efficiently, stopping at the apex of your thighs. “What’s this?” You shrug again, this time with a smirk on your face. “It’s black tie, right?” By black tie, you mean the black lace under your dress. It’s a little piece you found at a boutique lingerie store near the bookstore. There’s a heart cutout in the middle of the front part, right above your slit. John kisses the exposed skin, sucking hard before he pulls away. “Black tie my fuckin’ arse.” You giggle and push your hips forward in a wanting motion. “Weren’t you going to make me feel better?” He goes to work with a single-minded vigor. John pushes the scrap of lace to the side, nearing closer so he can lift your leg onto his shoulder. He doesn’t tease you like usual. Instead, he licks and sucks lewdly, moaning at your wetness. He flicks his tongue against your clit as it hardens at his motions. “Even sweeter down ‘ere.” The low tone of his voice vibrates against your cunt, sending a spark to your core. “She like when I talk to ‘er?” He’s talking to your cunt, you think. It’s hard to hear over the rushing of blood in your ears. All you do is nod, pushing his head closer with your free hand as your other one scrambles for purchase against the wood of your vanity.

“Thought so. So wet, baby, like I’ve been neglectin’ ya. Have I?” You shake your head as he keeps up the pace of his tongue, adding a finger into your hole to up the pressure. “No, no, not neglected.” You cry from near-overstimulation. You can practically feel him smile against your pussy, the scratch of his beard making the coil in your stomach grow tighter and tighter. “Thought so. Yer husband takes care of ya, tha’ righ’?” Your hips cant against his face, almost fucking it. “Yes, yes, John.” He sucks your clit hard, finger pumping in and out. “She’s so close I can fuckin’ taste it. Come for me, go’on.” And you do, pressure rushing out of your core in waves. “Good girl, baby. Knew you could do it.” He tugs your underwear back in place, cleaning up the cum on your thighs with his fingers. You hear him suck them clean, sending another shock to your core.

John stands, wiping his hands off on his slacks. He’s in a full tuxedo and wears a dashing red tie to compliment your dress. You quickly peck him on the lips and pull back before he can ruin your makeup. His beard pulls up in a half-smile, elated that you kissed him first. It’s not hard to tell he loves when you do that, returning his affection of your own volition. “Thank you, Mr. Price. You clean up well yourself.” You tug his tie playfully. “Now zip me up.”

He does it gracefully, fingers brushing your back as he inches the zipper up. You swear this dress is too small as you suck in more and more the higher he zips. Unfortunately, your husband has the power of turning any encouragement into sinful words whispered in your ear. “There we go, tight fit, love. Squeeze in, baby, tha’s a girl. Feel ok?” You can only nod, ribs heavily constrained. It reminds you of your wedding dress, except this time you chose to be trapped.

It’s a whirlwind of a drive as John helps you into the limo and helps you out only minutes later. The gala is at a nearby museum, but etiquette and uncomfortable footwear required you to drive. It’s a grand marble building, like a bigger version of John’s flat. Limos line the outside as people step out of cars dressed to the nines. You do have something to look forward to tonight - your family.

John guides you in with a hand to the back and you’re already escaping his grasp to search for Simon, who promised he was coming. Apparently, philanthropic foundations are great to donate to when you run a gang that needs some tax benefits. You’ve been to a few of these, but a glance at John’s upcoming calendar revealed he donates a lot more than your brother. A new routine to get used to.

“On your left.” John murmurs, and sure enough, there’s the top of Simon’s blonde head. He’s Mr. Riley at these events, not Ghost. You hold yourself back from running. Instead, you gather your skirts and walk quickly towards him, ignoring how John’s hand slips from your back.

“Hi!” You don’t give Simon a chance to answer, smothering him in a hug. He picks you up at your waist and spins you, a remnant from your few shared childhood memories. “Hi, lovie. Look at you, all dressed up.” He sets you down gently. Simon’s hand brushes your left one, causing you both to glance at the ring on your hand. You catch a slight frown, but it disappears into the collage of scars on his face. “Doin’ ok?” He asks quietly, only at a volume you can hear. You glance back at John, who’s making small talk with Johnny as the two men stand nearby. You turn back to Simon with a small smile on your face, nodding shyly. “It’s goin’ ok.” He drags a hand down in his face in exasperation. “Christ, the way he looks at you, kid. Not somethin’ a brother should be seein’.” You groan, swatting his hand away. “Gross. You’re acting like I don’t have to constantly dodge you and Johnny making out.” You say it in present tense, like it’s a problem you’re still facing. Unperturbed, you grab his hand and make your way to the bar, leaving your dates behind. “C’mon, Si. Let’s catch up.”

You must’ve had black magic in that perfume of yours. It’s the only explanation for why John feels like this, like he can’t be untethered from you for more than a minute. He was worried this thing between you, new and delicate, was just lust, but it’s becoming clear it’s much more. It’s the way you immediately sought out your brother, not caring for social niceties. How you challenged him with your argument at the bookstore, fire in your eyes as you protected your livelihood. It’s all rolling into a grand, sticky mess in his heart, weighing heavier and heavier every day.

The gala is full of politicians milling against the backdrop of the London Art Museum. Paintings of old rich geezers surrounded by the bodies of new rich muppets. There’s some people dancing in a slow waltz in the middle of the room, with high tables bracketing the dance floor in a crude outline. He doesn’t think you’ve noticed any of this, content to abandon him high and dry in search of your brother. John exchanges niceties with Johnny MacTavish, then leaves him to find Kate. She’s around here somewhere, schmoozing with potential clients. She may work on retainer for John, but she’s an independent contractor in her own right, always on the lookout for the next big fish.

He finds her eventually, talking to a MP far from the dance floor near a statue. “Lord Walsh.” John inclines his head at the man, who’s severely shorter than him with a significant bald spot. “Mr. Price. I’m surprised to see you here.” Jon frowns at the insinuation. Kate slowly inches towards John, looking polished in her navy pantsuit. “How so?” There’s danger laced in his words which Lord Walsh takes a few seconds too long to process. “I, well, excuse me.” He exits not-so-gracefully with sweat beads running down his receding hairline. John turns back to Kate, who’s wearing a rare smirk. “What?” She shakes her head, turning to face the crowd. “Sometimes I forget how much of a shark you are. Too used to seeing you surrounded by finery at home.” He snorts, turning with her.

They both find his wife in the crowd, easy to spot with the shocking red of your dress. You’re throwing your head back in laughter at something Ghost said, giggling like a little kid. John feels a smile growing under his beard. Kate notices too, elbowing him in the side. “We get it, you’re disgustingly infatuated.” He shakes his head, dropping the smile. “‘S not like that.” She snorts, a rare show of emotion, a credit to how long they’ve worked together. “Whatever you say, John. Now let me find new clients before you scare them away.” He nudges her shoulder, content to stay alone as she walks away.

Unfortunately, his newfound solitude is immediately interrupted by a foul-smelling scent. He turns and lo and behold, there’s a phantom at his shoulder. “Lady Walsh.” John takes a step away from her, preventing their shoulders from brushing. “I saw you talking with my brother.” There’s a bite to her voice. It’s reminiscent of the one regrettable night they shared years ago, a night clouded with too much whiskey and not enough forethought. “Exchanging pleasantries.” He can hear her frown from a mile away.

“Is there something you need?” He bites out when she doesn’t respond. Lady Walsh does this occasionally, finding him at events and trying for a recreation of that lone night. He didn’t consider it then, but he especially doesn’t consider it now. In fact, all he can do is track the sound of your laughter and drown in it, even across the dance floor. Lady Walsh leaves, and John decides to find the bar that you’ve abandoned and bring you a drink.

“I miss you, Si.” You mumble after your second martini. He’s found you two a table in the corner, somewhere you can hear each other over the quartet. “I do too, kid. Manchester’s different without ya.” You take a sip of his water, then spit it out when you realize it’s vodka. “Gross! Since when do you drink vodka?” He takes the glass out of your hand and downs it in one sip. “Johnny’s been on a kick. Think he’s been bored since ya left.” There’s immediate regret on his face as you take in his words. “No, love, ‘s not yer fault. There’s been other things happenin’. Nothin’s yer fault.” You nod, swallowing hard. “I think I’m gonna find the bathroom.” He nods worriedly. You push on the table to get up, but he stops you with a soft hand on your shoulder. Simon kisses your forehead, then shoves you towards the bathroom. “Don’t overthink. Go piss.” You snort, swatting his hand away.

In the bathroom, you stop in the mirror to apply your lipstick. A woman exits one of the stalls behind you, going to wash your hands. She’s like the image of your better self, with clearer skin and a figure you’d kill for. It’s the gin speaking, your brain reasons, but that doesn’t stave off any insecurities you’re projecting. Your heart is raw after your conversation with Simon, and this just makes it worse.

“You’re John’s new wife, right?” The mystery woman says as she finishes washing her hands. It shakes you out of your reverie. “Yes. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” She purses her lips, now reapplying her blush. “Lady Walsh. I’m not surprised; I don’t think John would’ve mentioned me.” You frown at her insinuation. She takes your silence as acceptance, turning towards you with a feline smile on her lips. “I’m surprised you’re even walking. Lord knows it took me a week to recover from the last night I spent with John.” Your mouth drops. “Anyways, love your dress!” She breezes past you in a whirlwind of soap and perfume, leaving the bathroom gracefully.

You, however, exit in a fit of starts and stops. Your chest aches with the pain of breathing, reminiscent of the panic attack you had in a London garden almost two months ago. That thought makes things worse, blurring your vision. Someone grabs your arm, a warm presence guiding you to a bench in a darkened hallway.

“Sweetheart, you okay?” It’s John.

“No, I- I just need a second.” In the background, you hear people laugh and glasses tinkle. John places a warm hand over your knee, grounding you to the moment. “In an’ out, yeah?” You nod as your breathing slowly calms. It’s just you and him for a second, listening to the sounds of your breath go in and out. “Want some water?” He moves to get up, but you grab his arm before he can. “Stay with me?” You whisper. John sits back down, wrapping that same arm around your waist to pull you closer.

“Wanna tell me about it?” He kisses the temple of your head, and you stiffen under his touch. The change is noticeable as the air goes cold. “Why haven’t we fucked?” It bursts out of you, almost in anger. John’s shock is clear as day as his arm drops from your waist. “I- why’re you askin’?” His hesitation is not what you wanted to hear. “I talked to your friend in the bathroom. Lady Walsh.” John groans, dragging his hand down his face. “Christ.” You wrap your arms around your waist at the sudden chill between you. John shrugs off his blazer and places it on your shoulders. The scent of it is overwhelming: musk and pine and man.

“She an’ I happened once, years ago. Been followin’ me like a hound ever since.” That makes you feel slightly better, but the conversation brought out a monster you didn’t want to face head-on. Your insecurities over this limbo of a marriage have been haunting you, and now they’ve taken the form of that woman in the bathroom. “You didn’t answer my question.” You murmur. John nudges your shoulder, moving closer when you don’t scoot away. “I didn’t want t’ pressure ya. Could eat ya out every night an’ be the happiest man on earth.” You bark out a laugh. He takes it as a sign to close the distance between you, tucking you under his arm. “What about the kids? The heirs?” You emphasize it with an eye roll. He snorts, pulling you closer. “Ever heard of artificial insemination? Surrogacy? A lot they can do these days.” He talks like he’s a hundred years old and not barely 38. “Why wasn’t that in the contract to begin with?” He’s quiet. “Not sure, actually.”

“I don’t think I want to do anything sexual for a while.” You eventually whisper. “‘S fine.” John replies. “I want to go to dinner.” You turn to him with a small smile on your face. “Ya want to go’on a date, baby?” You nod. He frowns in that way when he’s upset that he didn’t think of it first. A realization dawns on his face when he understands what you’re asking for. A new start, free from this societal gossip and pressure. John kisses your forehead gently. “Tha’ okay?” You nod like a lovesick teenager, giddy with the thought that he understands you so well. “Dance with me?” He stands and offers you his hand. You take it.

“Graves. Report?” The General is half-cloaked in the darkness of his office, eyes glinting through the shadows. “Comin’ along well, sir. Price has given himself a new weakness right when we needed one.” Shepherd hums in agreement. “Don’t fuck this up, Graves. You’re on your last strike.” Phil nods, backing out of the room. He will not mess this up. He can’t afford to.

yayyy gaz redeemed himself and we have a plot! i was lowkey getting worried. i hope nothing bad happens...

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minniesfiles · 4 months ago

Text

BLOOM WITH YOU | month 1

After years of heartbreak and disappointment, you and your husband’s dream of starting a family seemed out of reach. But miracle was a beautiful thing.

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; angst, fluff, mild smut

❧ WARNINGS; mention of fainting and hospitalisation, mention of past miscarriages, deep talk, mentally and physically drained reader, medical talks

❧ WORDCOUNT; 5.3k

▁▁▁▁▁▁

series masterlist

𐚁₊⊹

▍5 JANUARY 2026

Your period was late. In fact your periods were never on time — rather always irregular.

But unlike before, there was no rush of excitement, no flutter in your chest, no anxious anticipation. There was only exhaustion.

It wasn’t a surprise, not anymore. The first time it happened, you felt the thrill, the rush of hope. The second time, that hope turned into nervous excitement. By the third, fourth, fifth and sixth, it became a cruel cycle of expectation and heartbreak.

And now, the seventh time, all you felt was exhaustion.

There was no point in wondering, no reason to let yourself feel anything at all. You had done this before. You had taken tests before — stared at little plastic sticks with trembling fingers, held your breath as you waited for a result, then felt the crushing weight of reality settle in when the inevitable happened.

But Wonwoo never blamed you. Not once, and that was what made it harder. If anything, he loved you more and more.

If he had been angry, if he had shown even a flicker of disappointment, maybe you would have had someone else to direct your frustration toward. But he never did. He never looked at you with anything less than love.

His way of showing that love changed over time. In the beginning, he would whisper reassurances, hold you close, and promise you that there was no rush, that everything would be okay. But when words failed, he turned to actions instead.

Lately, his way of showing love to you was to make love to you.

It wasn’t about trying again or about chasing the dream of a family you had once wanted so badly. It was about reminding you that you were enough, that your worth wasn’t measured by your ability to carry a child.

Not even six miscarriages could make him love you any less. And you wished you could believe that.

The sound of a dramatic OST played in the background as you sat on the sofa, absently stuffing grapes into your mouth. You weren’t really paying attention to the show playing on the screen — it was just white noise, something to fill the silence that had settled into your apartment.

“Don’t you think you should take a test?”

You barely heard the words at first, so immersed in your own thoughts that they barely registered. It wasn’t until the screen in front of you shut off, leaving the room in silence, that your brain caught up.

You blinked at the dark screen.

Saehee stood beside you with the remote still in her hand as she braced herself for a reaction. You knew why. Normally, you would have snapped at her and thrown a pillow at her head, or at least groaned in frustration for interrupting your show.

However, today, you didn’t have the energy. Instead, you exhaled slowly as your shoulders sagged. You didn’t turn to face her.

Saehee didn’t move either. She stood there with her arms crossed, watching you with that concerned look that made you feel both grateful and irritated at the same time.

“I don’t want to take a test,” you admitted with your voice quieter than you intended.

Saehee didn’t respond right away. You knew what she was thinking. She was probably choosing her words carefully, and tried to figure out the best way to talk to you without pushing too hard.

Besides Wonwoo, she was there for you through everything — every loss, every tear, every sleepless night where you had collapsed into her arms because you hadn’t wanted Wonwoo to see you break again. She knew better than anyone how fragile this topic was for you.

“Why not?” she asked eventually.

You swallowed. “Because I already know how this ends.”

“But what if…” she hesitated as her fingers fidgeted in her lap. “What if this time is different?”

“You know what my doctor said, Saehee. My uterus is abnormally shaped, which makes it very difficult for me to carry a pregnancy to full term” you almost snapped.

“And your doctor also said that some women have successfully given birth with the same condition as you. What if this is the one time it actually works out? Wouldn’t you want to know?” she tried to reason.

You stared down at the grape stem in your hand, picking at the tiny ends where the fruit had been. You wanted to believe her. You wanted to cling to the hope she was offering. But hope, you painfully came to learn, was dangerous. Hope had crushed you more times than you could count.

“I can’t go through that again,” you whispered.

“I can’t get my hopes up just to lose another—” you cut yourself off, the lump in your throat making it impossible to finish the sentence.

Saehee walked over and sat down next to you. She reached over and took your hand in hers, squeezing gently. “I know,” she said softly.

“But you deserve to know. Even if it’s scary.”

“You aren’t alone in this Y/n. The medical world today has advanced so much. There’s still options out there that could help your case” she went on to say. You swallowed hard, your gaze still fixed downward. You wished it were that simple.

You remembered the three-page letter that Dr. Jung had sent you two months ago that gave you answers and information you needed. It detailed your condition, which you learned was called ‘Uterine Hypoplasia’, a condition where the uterus is smaller than the average size for a woman’s age.

Reasons? You didn’t exactly know, but Dr. Jung said it could be due to genetic factors, hormonal imbalances or medical conditions. As far as you and your parents were aware, you didn’t have any known or hidden medical conditions.

The other main thing the letter also explained was the treatment options. Although natural conception wasn’t impossible, it could still be quite challenging. But many women with a small uterus have successfully been pregnant and carried their pregnancies to full term with the right medical support.

Dr. Jung laid out the options for you: hormonal therapy, surgical interventions, and assisted reproductive technologies like IVF and IUI. She suggested that, after thorough examination, that you opt for hormonal therapy.

But you had yet to respond to her letter. Wonwoo suggested giving it a try, so did your mother and Saehee. But your hopes were too down in the gutter to even consider it.

╶╶╶╶╶

[19:45 p.m.]

Saehee left two hours ago, leaving you pacing back and forth in the bathroom. Your arms were tightly wrapped around yourself, and you were biting your lip so hard you could almost taste blood.

You made an unknowing promise yourself that you would never do this again.

After the last time — after sitting on the cold bathroom floor, sobbing as you clutched yet another failed pregnancy test — you swore you were done. No more tests. No more waiting. No more hope. Because hope, you painfully came to learn, was dangerous. Hope had crushed you more times than you could count.

But after Saehee pleaded, and also thinking back to Dr. Jung’s letter, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to find out.

And now here you were.

Waiting.

Dreading.

Your hands trembled as you reached up, gathering your hair into a messy bun. Loose strands slipped free, but you ignored them. The exhaustion in your eyes, the way your lips were pressed together in a thin, almost colorless line reflected in the mirror in front of you.

You looked…tired. Not just physically, but deep in your bones.

You took a slow step toward the sink. Then another. Your fingers spread across the cool porcelain and grounded yourself, inhaling deeply.

It was time.

You turned the test over.

Two red lines.

Positive.

The sight of it didn’t send a jolt of shock through you like it used to. There was no rush of excitement, no nervous flutter in your stomach like there used to be. Just a quiet, heavy acceptance.

Of course.

Of course, you were pregnant.

You knew your body well enough to recognise the signs — the fatigue, the nausea, the way your period never came when it was supposed to. You knew before you even took the test.

And yet…

Your grip on the sink tightened. You should have felt something.

Happiness? No. Not after everything.

Fear? Maybe. But even that felt dull now.

You exhaled slowly, your gaze locked onto those two little lines, as if staring at them long enough would make them disappear. But they wouldn’t.

Because this was real.

And you knew how it would end.

You lived through it six times already.

Your hand lowered to your stomach, pressing lightly against the fabric of your shirt. There was something growing inside you, once again, something fragile. Something that wasn’t meant to stay.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you forced yourself not to cry.

You wouldn’t do this again. You wouldn’t let yourself fall into the same cycle of false hope and devastation.

You had to protect yourself. From the inevitable heartbreak. From the disappointment in Wonwoo’s eyes. From the way he would still hold you still and whisper that it wasn’t your fault, even though it felt like it was.

You breathed in sharply, forcing yourself to open your eyes. The test was still there. The lines were still there. Nothing had changed.

Except, maybe, the way your heart felt heavier than before.

A lump formed in your throat, but before you could let the tears fall, a familiar voice broke through the heavy silence.

“Honey I’m home!”

Your eyes snapped open. You didn’t know why, but you panicked. Without thinking, you tossed it in the bin beneath the sink. You blinked away the moisture in your eyes and forced yourself to breathe steadily. You had to compose yourself.

With one last glance in the mirror, you smoothed your hands down your shirt and stepped out of the bathroom.

You found Wonwoo in the living room setting down his camera bag by the sofa. His dark eyes lifted and a soft smile spread across his lips as you approached.

“Hey baby,” he greeted as he crossed the room in a few long strides. His hands reached for you and pulled you close by the waist as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

You melted instantly and wrapped your arms around his torso. “How was the shoot?” you murmured.

“Long,” Wonwoo exhaled, resting his chin on top of your head. “But good. The couple was sweet, and the venue was beautiful. You would’ve loved it.”

You hummed in response, your fingers absentmindedly tracing small patterns on his back.

“And you?” he asked, pulling back slightly to look at you. “How was your day?”

“Saehee came to visit earlier” you forced a small smile.

Wonwoo’s eyes softened. “That’s nice. Did you two have fun?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “we just talked and caught up on things.”

It was a partial lie. While you and Saehee indeed talked and caught up on things about life while she was on her business trip to South Africa, Saehee was mainly concerned about you and how you were holding up. In fact she was the one to buy the test after you told her you missed your period.

“That’s good” he hummed.

“Are you hungry? I’m sorry I didn’t cook. If you want I can make something while you shower” you said.

“Hey,” your husband cupped your face, “it’s fine, we’ll just order” he reassured.

“Are you sure? We’ve been having a lot of takeaways lately and I don’t want you to end up having food poisoning” you let out a small giggle.

Wonwoo chuckled as he tucked the strands of hair behind your ear. “This will be the last time, I promise” he said, pecking your lips.

“Shower with me?” he then asked.

You hummed and allowed him to lead you upstairs.

▍6 JANUARY 2026

It wasn’t usual the way Wonwoo’s phone would blow up non-stop while he was in the middle of a shoot like it was right now. The way the vibration inside the pocket of his denim shorts was constant, he knew it was important.

Wonwoo lowered his camera and stood up from his crouching position. Letting the camera dangle around his neck, he fished for his phone and looked at the screen. There were five missed calls and ten text messages from Seahee, and three missed calls from an unknown number.

His brows knitted in confusion. And in that exact moment, his screen lit up with Saehee’s name.

He looked at the couple with an apologetic look. “Sorry, I have to take this” he notified them, and he was grateful they were understanding.

Turning around and walking out of the studio room, he swiped the green button and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Saehee, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Instead of a response, all he heard was muffled cries from the other end, like she was struggling to form words. Whatever it was, Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel his heart pounding. Like something was wrong.

“Saehee—”

“It’s Y/n” she finally spoke up.

And just like that, his heart dropped.

“S-She collapsed at work.”

Wonwoo couldn’t hear anything. His heart was pounding, and his mind was filled with a deafening noise that chanted your name over and over again. Nothing else even existed at that moment. He needed to get to you. He needed to be by your side.

Nothing else mattered.

Without a word to the couple, who stared at his alarmed expression, he turned on his heel and bolted out of the room. They barely had time to say anything before he was gone, disappearing down the hall in an instant.

His breath was ragged and his heartbeat was as he sprinted through the corridors. The moment he pushed through the doors of the building, the cold air hit him, but he barely felt it. His hands trembled as he reached into his pocket, fingers fumbling for his car keys. It took him two tries to get a grip on them before he yanked open the door and threw himself into the driver’s seat.

Wonwoo had never been a reckless driver. He followed every rule. He stopped at every red light, signaled even when there were no cars around. But right now? Right now, none of that mattered.

The tires screeched as he peeled out of the parking lot, and the speedometer climbed higher and higher. He knew he was going too fast. He knew he was being careless. But nothing — no law, no warning signs, no blaring horns from other drivers — could stop him from getting to you.

Because this wasn’t the first time.

It wasn’t the first time he made this drive with his heart in his throat and hands gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. It wasn’t the first time he received the dreaded call and the voice on the other end telling him to come to the hospital.

The road ahead became a blur as his vision clouded with tears that threatened to escape. He forced himself to blink them away, clenching his jaw so tightly it ached. His fingers dug into the leather of the steering wheel as his entire body tensed with anxiety.

He hated this. He hated the unexpectedness, and the feeling of helplessness.

He swerved into the hospital parking lot, barely managing to park his car correctly before jumping out. The door slammed shut behind him, but he didn’t even notice. His feet thumped against the ground as his legs carried him forwards before his mind could catch up.

The harsh and overly bright fluorescent lights in the hospital made his head ache. But he ignored the discomfort and headed straight for the reception desk.

“I’m looking for my wife, Jeon Y/n. Where is she?” he demanded, his voice rough and uneven.

The young receptionist, who saw Wonwoo more times than she would like to admit, didn’t even hesitate. Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard as she pulled up your records.

“Room 717, the radiology department,” she told him, looking up with an expression that was all too familiar — pity.

Wonwoo barely managed to nod in thanks before he took off, his feet moving on autopilot down the hallways as fast as they could. His heart hammered with every step with dread creeping up his spine. He memorised this route. He walked these halls too many times before.

And yet, it never got easier.

When he reached Room 717, he didn’t pause. Didn’t knock. Didn’t hesitate. When he shoved the door open, his breath caught in his throat the moment his eyes laid on you.

You were lying on the hospital bed with the white sheets pulled up to your waist. The sight of the IV drip in your arm made something in him twist painfully. You looked so fragile. Your face was pale and your lips were slightly chapped. But what reassured him — what made his knees almost buckle with relief — was the way your chest rose and fell with each breath.

Dr. Jung was standing in the corner, flipping through her clipboard. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile. “She’s stable,” she said quietly.

Wonwoo exhaled sharply as his fingers ran through his hair. His body, which was running on pure adrenaline, suddenly felt heavy. But he didn’t stop moving.

As he walked towards you, he unhooked the camera from around his neck and set it on the small table beside your bed. His fingers hovered in the air for a moment before he finally reached out, a little hesitant.

His fingertips brushed against your cheek, and the coldness of your skin made his breath hitch. His lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, his eyes burned as he fought the lump in his throat.

And then, as if you felt him, your eyelids fluttered.

Wonwoo stilled, and his heart stopped for a brief second before your gaze finally focused on him. “Hey,” you murmured, a small, weak smile tugging at your lips as you leaned into his touch.

Wonwoo let out a shaky breath, feeling his entire body sagging in relief. “Are you okay? What happened?” his voice was hoarse.

He pulled the chair next to your bed closer and sat down before taking your hand in his. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

You hesitated as your eyes flickered away for a moment. “I was just coming out of the bathroom…and suddenly, I felt really lightheaded. And yeah…” you trailed off, your fingers curling slightly against his palm.

Wonwoo’s grip on your hand tightened. “You fainted?”

You nodded slowly.

A deep crease formed between his brows. Before he could speak, you interrupted him. “I’m fine now, really,” you said softly, trying to reassure him.

“Just a little tired, that’s all.”

But Wonwoo wasn’t convinced. He heard those words too many times before.

“I told you to stop skipping breakfast,” he scolded. “How many times have I told you?”

You blinked at him before breaking into a small, tired giggle. “You’re so cute when you scold,” you muttered. .

Wonwoo sighed, shaking his head, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

Dr. Jung stepped forward, breaking the silence that settled in the hospital room. “Right, are you ready to go ahead with the scan Y/n?” she asked calmly.

Wonwoo’s brows furrowed immediately. He was so focused on your wellbeing that he didn’t even think to ask what kind of tests they were going to run. His eyes darted between you and the doctor as confusion etched across his face.

“Scan? What scan?” he questioned with a sharp, urgent voice as if he missed something crucial.

You stiffened slightly, and your fingers instinctively tightened around the blanket on your lap. Your eyes travelled towards Wonwoo for a brief second before darting away, avoiding his gaze. The room suddenly felt small and suffocating.

Dr. Jung hesitated, looking at Wonwoo before turning back to you. “Y/n, did you not tell him?”

A lump formed in your throat. You couldn’t find it in yourself to answer.

“Tell me what?” Wonwoo asked, sounding frustrated, but underneath it, it was fear.

Silence hung between the three of you. You looked down at your lap, fiddling with the fabric of the hospital gown between your fingers. You wanted to tell him. You really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. Not when you knew the kind of hope it would ignite in his eyes.

Dr. Jung sighed, sensing your reluctance. She turned to Wonwoo, who was now looking more anxious than ever. “She’s four weeks pregnant.”

The words slammed into him like a freight train.“What?” Wonwoo whispered, blinking as if he misheard her.

“You probably know it by now, but at this stage, she’s quite vulnerable,” Dr. Jung continued, keeping her voice measured and clinical. “Her blood pressure was low, which is why she fainted.”

Wonwoo’s heart plummeted to his stomach. His body froze, and for a second, he couldn’t move, not could he breathe. His eyes snapped to you, his lips parting as he struggled to find the right words.

“Y/n?” he called out, his voice soft, hesitant.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his. The moment your gazes locked, he saw it — the fear, the hesitation, the pain. His heart clenched at the sight.

“You’re pregnant?” he asked. You swallowed hard, then gave him a small nod.

His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with the force of his emotions. Pregnant. The word echoed in his mind.

He should’ve felt elated. After all, this was something you both wanted for so long. But instead of excitement, all he could feel was the crack in his heart as he noticed the way you weren’t smiling, the way you were bracing yourself as if expecting the worst.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” there was a slight tremor in his voice which betrayed how deeply this affected him.

You exhaled, your shoulders slumping. “I only found out yesterday.”

Wonwoo’s breath hitched.

“Saehee convinced me to take a test when I told her I missed my period,” you admitted, still refusing to meet his gaze.

There was no joy in your voice. No excitement.

Only exhaustion.

Wonwoo’s heart ached. He could see it now. You were too scared to tell him. Too scared to believe in this miracle. Because you were here before — six tims. He was there for all of them. He watched you crumble, grieve, and smile through the pain even when he knew you were breaking inside.

And now, as he looked at you, he realised — this time, you weren’t even letting yourself hope.

“But Wonwoo,” you finally said, your voice quiet and fragile. “What if it doesn’t work out this time too?”

He sucked in a sharp breath.

“What if our baby never gets to make it til the end, like all the other six times?” your voice cracked, and the pain in it shattered his heart into pieces.

“No matter how much I pray, it never ends the way I want it to. So what’s the point when I already know how it’s going to end?”

A single tear slipped down your cheek. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sob threatening to break free.

Wonwoo couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor as he moved to sit beside you on the bed. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest.

You tensed for a moment before finally melting into his embrace, and your fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt.

“Hey,” he mumbled against your hai. “Don’t do that. Don’t think so negatively.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “I’m not Wonwoo, I’m being realistic. I’m just so tired.”

His grip tightened. “I know,” he whispered. “I know, baby”

Your body trembled in his hold. “We’ll face this together,” he comforted, leaning back so he could cup your face. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks and wiped away your tears.

“I know you’re scared. I am too. But baby, you’re not alone. I’m right here.”

Your lips quivered. “But I don’t think I can handle losing another one.”

Wonwoo exhaled shakily. “Then we’ll grieve together.” His forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with nothing but love.

“But for now, let’s hold onto this. Let’s believe in this little life growing inside of you. Please, Y/n.”

You stared at him, his words sinking into your heart. He wasn’t asking you to pretend everything was okay. He wasn’t telling you to ignore your pain.

He was just asking you to try. To hold onto hope — together.

A fresh wave of tears welled up in your eyes, but this time they were softer and less afraid. .

Wonwoo pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Let’s do the scan,” he murmured. You hesitated for only a moment before nodding.

You swallowed hard and your heart pounded against your ribcage as Dr. Jung prepped the machine. This was the moment you were both dreading and anticipating. The moment that would either give you hope or confirm your worst fears.

Wonwoo sat beside you with his firm but gentle grip on your hand. He could feel the slight tremble of your fingers against his own, and he gave them a reassuring squeeze.

“Alright Y/n,” Dr. Jung said softly, offering you a small and encouraging smile. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

Unable to find your voice, you just nodded.

When the cold gel came in contact with your skin, you shivered slightly. As Dr. Jung pressed the ultrasound probe gently against your abdomen, Wonwoo’s eyes never left the screen. He had been here before, sitting in this exact position, staring at a monitor with bated breath. The memories grazed at the back of his mind. The empty sacs, the weak fetal heartbeats that faded too soon, the silence that followed after each loss.

But this time, he prayed it would be different.

The screen flicked in, and for a few agonising seconds, there was nothing but static. Your fingers tightened around Wonwoo’s, and he could feel the cold sweat on your palm.

Then you both saw it. A tiny, fluttering movement on the screen. A rapid, rhythmic pulsing.

A heartbeat.

Dr. Jung’s smile widened as she adjusted the probe to make the image clearer. “There,” she said softly. “There’s your baby.”

Your free hand flew to your mouth as tears instantly welled in your eyes. Wonwoo felt his own vision blur as he stared at the screen, feeling his heart swelling with a mixture of awe, relief, and overwhelming love.

The small blob on the screen was still so tiny, barely distinguishable, but it was there. And it was alive.

“The heartbeat is strong,” Dr. Jung continued as she adjusted the volume so the rapid thumping sound filled the room. “That’s exactly what we want to see at four weeks.”

Your body sagged in relief, and a sob escaped your lips. Wonwoo reached up and wiped away the tear that slipped down your cheek.

“It’s okay my love,” he whispered. “They’re okay.”

Dr. Jung, however, remained focused as she carefully examined the screen. After a moment, she looked at you with the same kind but serious expression she always wore when discussing your condition.

“Now, I know this is wonderful news, but we need to talk about the next steps.”

The shift in her tone made your heart clench, and Wonwoo’s grip on your hand tightened. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Dr. Jung turned the screen slightly and pointed at the position of the embryo. “Y/n, given your history and your uterine abnormality, we’re going to have to take medical intervention to ensure this pregnancy remains viable.”

Your throat felt dry. You always knew that even if you did conceive again, carrying the baby to full term would be an uphill battle. Your uterus was never a safe environment for a growing fetus, and each miscarriage had been a painful reminder of that.

“Your condition,” Dr. Jung continued gently, “makes it difficult for the embryo to implant securely. There’s a risk of inadequate blood supply, which could lead to complications. Right now, everything looks good, but if we don’t act preemptively, the chances of miscarriage increase significantly.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “So…what do we do?”

Dr. Jung sighed softly. “There are a few options, but the best course of action would be a combination of hormonal support, regular monitoring, and possibly a cervical cerclage.”

“A cerclage?” Wonwoo’s brows furrowed.

Dr. Jung nodded. “It’s a procedure where we place a stitch in the cervix to help it stay closed and prevent early labor or miscarriage. Given Y/n’s history, her cervix may not be strong enough to hold the pregnancy as it progresses. We wouldn’t do the procedure just yet, but if we see signs of cervical incompetence in the coming weeks, we’ll need to act quickly.”

The words sent a chill down your spine. You read about cerclages before. They were often a last resort, a desperate attempt to keep the baby inside just a little longer. Some women had success with them, but others had not.

Wonwoo felt you stiffen beside him. He turned to you as his eyes searched for yours. “Hey,” he whispered almost as he tilted his head so you would look at him.

“What are you thinking?”

You let out a shaky breath. “I just…I’m scared. I don’t want to go through another loss Wonwoo” your voice cracked.

“I don’t know if I can do it again.”

His heart ached at the vulnerability in your words. He reached up and cupped your face gently. “I know baby,” he whispered. “I know.”

Dr. Jung gave you both a moment before she continued. “We’ll also start you on progesterone supplements immediately. Progesterone is crucial in the early stages of pregnancy to support the uterine lining and help the embryo implant securely.”

You nodded slowly, trying to process everything.

“In addition,” Dr. Jung continued, “we’ll schedule ultrasounds every week to monitor the baby’s growth and the condition of your uterus. If we notice anything concerning, we’ll adjust the treatment plan accordingly.”

Wonwoo turned back to her. “And if we do everything you’re suggesting…what are the chances?” he asked.

Dr. Jung hesitated. “I won’t lie to you,” she admitted.

“There are still risks. But if we’re diligent, and if Y/n’s body responds well to the treatments, the chances of carrying to term increase significantly.”

It wasn’t the guarantee you hoped for, but it was something. A chance. And right now, that was all you could ask for.

You exhaled and glanced at the screen once more. The tiny spark of life continued to beat steadily. Wonwoo leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“We’re doing this,” he whispered. “Together.”

You turned to him as your lips quivered. “You still want to try?”

“Of course I do. I want this baby. I want our baby.”

He gave you a look that was filled with so much love and devotion that it made your chest tighten. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but this time, they weren’t just from fear. They were from hope.

Dr. Jung smiled as she sensed the shift between you two. “Then let’s get started.”

She reached for the prescription pad as she got ready to outline the plan that could save your baby’s life. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe( this time would be different.

a/n; sorry for the long wait🥹

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