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aspenmissing · 2 days ago

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ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ: ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱꜰᴜʟ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ ||

4511 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱꜰᴜʟ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ/ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴜᴘꜱᴇᴛ, ʜᴀʀᴀꜱꜱᴍᴇɴᴛ (ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ꜰʟᴀʀᴇ-ᴜᴘ ᴘᴀɪɴ (ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱꜰᴜʟ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏʏꜱ ᴀɴᴅ 'ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ᴏꜰ' ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ.

JAYCE

The howling wind outside was relentless, throwing thick flakes of snow against the window with ferocious intensity. The blizzard showed no signs of letting up, and the frosted glass distorted the pale moonlight that tried to pierce through the storm. Jayce stood by the fireplace, furrowing his brow as he stoked the flames higher. The warmth from the fire bathed the room in a soft amber glow, but it wasn’t enough—not for him. Not when Y/N was sitting on the worn couch, bundled in every blanket he could find in the house.

“Are you warm enough?” Jayce asked, his voice a little too tight as he turned toward her.

“I’m fine, Jayce,” she replied, her lips quirking into a reassuring smile as she shuffled out from under the blanket. Rolling up her sleeves, she moved toward the small table where the ingredients for soup were laid out. “I was just going to start on something warm for us—”

“No, no, no,” he interrupted, crossing the room in two swift strides. Before she could even reach for the cutting board, Jayce gently but firmly took the knife out of her hand and set it down. “You don’t have to do that. Let me handle it.”

“Jayce,” she began, her tone a blend of amusement and exasperation, but he was already at her side, rolling her sleeves back down with a touch so gentle and deliberate it made her pause. Without a word, he guided her back toward the couch, his hands steady on her shoulders.

“Please,” he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet plea. “I’ll handle it. Just sit and stay warm.”

Y/N let out a small sigh, knowing better than to argue. She’d learned long ago that when Jayce slipped into one of his protective moods, it was easier to let him fuss. He wasn’t overbearing—just... devoted. And there was a reason behind it, one that made her heart ache every time she remembered.

Kneeling in front of her, Jayce tucked the blanket snugly around her shoulders, his large hands lingering for a moment as if to shield her from even the faintest chill. “Don’t move,” he murmured, his gaze meeting hers briefly before darting back toward the fireplace.

She watched as he crossed the room with purposeful strides, adding another log to the flames and adjusting the kettle hanging over the fire. The warmth crackled through the room, casting a golden glow that softened his furrowed brow.

When Y/N stirred under the blanket, starting to rise from the couch, Jayce was there in an instant. He knelt again, this time holding out her slippers, his expression so earnest it almost made her laugh.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” he said quietly, sliding the slippers onto her feet with the utmost care. His hands lingered for a moment, wrapping around her ankles to make sure the fabric was snug.

She reached down, brushing her fingers through his hair, and he finally looked up at her. His eyes held a storm of their own, a mixture of worry and something deeper—something vulnerable.

“Jayce,” she said, her voice soft as snow. “I’m okay. I promise.”

He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into her touch. “I know,” he said, but his voice wavered. “I just... I can’t stand the thought of you feeling cold. Not like I did.”

She knew the story by heart—how Jayce and his mother had once been trapped in a storm like this, lost and desperate, the cold seeping into their bones. They’d been saved by a stranger, but the fear had never fully left him.

“You’re safe with me,” he added, almost to himself. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Y/N leaned forward, cupping his face and guiding him to stand. “Come here,” she said, pulling him onto the couch beside her. She shifted the blanket to wrap around both of them, and he hesitated for only a moment before sinking into her warmth.

“You do enough for me,” she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder. “Let me take care of you, too.”

Jayce’s arms came around her, holding her close as the storm raged on outside. For the first time that night, his shoulders relaxed. Together, they sat by the fire, wrapped in warmth, safe from the winter's wrath.

VIKTOR

The early morning light filtered weakly through the frosted windows, but the usual hum of activity in the apartment was conspicuously absent. Instead, Viktor sat on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, one hand gripping his cane, the other pressed tightly against his aching thigh.

His body had betrayed him again.

“I can’t afford to stay home today,” Viktor muttered, his voice tight with frustration. He shifted slightly, trying to rise, but the flare of pain shot up his leg, forcing him back down with a wince.

From the doorway, Y/N watched him, her heart aching at the sight. His resilience was one of the things she admired most about him, but there were moments like these when she wished he’d give himself a break. Slowly, she crossed the room and knelt in front of him, placing a warm hand over his trembling one.

“You’re not going anywhere today, Viktor,” she said firmly, her voice soft but leaving no room for argument. “Not like this.”

He looked at her, his golden-brown eyes clouded with a mix of exhaustion and frustration. “I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Jayce needs me. The work—”

“Jayce can handle the work for one day,” she interrupted, her thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “You trust him, don’t you?”

Viktor hesitated, his jaw tightening. He hated feeling helpless, hated the idea of leaving the burden on Jayce. But as much as he wanted to protest, the pain in his leg and the weariness in his body left him no choice.

“I trust him,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then trust me, too,” Y/N said, her eyes meeting his with unwavering resolve. “Trust me to take care of you today.”

He sighed, the tension in his shoulders softening slightly. “Fine,” he murmured, though his tone was laced with reluctant acceptance. “But only because I don’t have the strength to argue.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Good. Now, let’s get you comfortable.”

She guided him to lie back against the pillows, adjusting them until he could rest without straining himself. Viktor winced as he shifted, but the moment he was settled, Y/N draped a soft, warm blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders like a cocoon.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to his temple before heading to the kitchen.

The faint clatter of pots and pans soon filled the air, the comforting sounds of her cooking cutting through the quiet tension of the room. Viktor closed his eyes, letting the rhythmic noises and the faint aroma of her cooking lull him into a rare moment of calm.

When she returned, it was with a tray balanced carefully in her hands. A steaming bowl of soup, a plate of warm bread, and a cup of herbal tea sat neatly arranged. Y/N set the tray on the bedside table and helped him sit up, fluffing the pillows behind him with practiced ease.

“There,” she said, handing him the bowl. “Eat up. And don’t even think about arguing.”

Viktor took the bowl, his lips quirking into a faint smile despite himself. “You’re relentless, Miláčku:” he said softly. (Sweetheart)

“I prefer the term ‘determined,’” she replied with a smirk, sitting beside him as he ate.

After the meal, Y/N set the empty dishes aside and knelt by his side once more. Her hands were warm as they moved to his leg, massaging the tight muscles with careful, deliberate pressure. Viktor tensed at first, his breath hitching, but the soothing rhythm of her touch soon eased the ache, and he let out a long, shuddering sigh.

“Better?” she asked, her voice gentle.

“Much,” he admitted, leaning back against the pillows, his body finally relaxing.

She smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his knee before shifting to sit beside him again. Her hands moved to his hair, threading through the soft strands in slow, rhythmic motions. Viktor closed his eyes, the sensation pulling him further into a state of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured, his voice thick with gratitude.

“You deserve it,” Y/N replied, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “Now, stop worrying about the lab, about Jayce, about everything else. Just focus on resting.”

For the rest of the day, Y/N stayed by his side, alternating between spoiling him with warm meals, soothing touches, and quiet reassurances. She didn’t leave him for a moment, keeping him wrapped in comfort and love as the hours passed.

And as night fell, Viktor lay beside her, his head resting against her shoulder, his breathing deep and even. For the first time in a long while, the storm of his thoughts had quieted, leaving only the warmth of her presence to fill the space.

JAYVIK

The day had been long. Too long. Y/N’s head throbbed with the remnants of tension that had built steadily throughout her shift. Between difficult customers demanding impossible solutions, co-workers who seemed more intent on slacking than contributing, and the never-ending pile of tasks that grew by the hour, she’d barely managed to hold herself together.

But she had. Somehow.

By the time she made it home, the weight of the day hung over her like a storm cloud. She unlocked the door, stepping into the warm, familiar space she shared with Jayce and Viktor. The scent of something faintly herbal lingered in the air—likely Viktor’s tea—and the soft hum of conversation filtered from the living room.

“Y/N?” Jayce’s voice called out, his usual warmth shining through even in a single word.

“Welcome back,” Viktor added, quieter but no less sincere.

She didn’t answer, setting her bag down with deliberate care. Her hands trembled slightly as she pulled off her coat and hung it by the door. The sight of her two partners waiting for her, Jayce lounging on the couch and Viktor seated nearby with a book in hand, should’ve been a balm. Instead, it was the final push that broke the dam she’d been holding back all day.

Her breath hitched, tears welling up and spilling over before she could stop them.

“Y/N?” Jayce was on his feet in an instant, his brow creased with worry. Viktor followed a heartbeat later, leaning on his cane as he moved closer.

“What happened?” Viktor asked, his sharp eyes scanning her face as though searching for the source of her pain.

“I just...” Y/N began, her voice cracking as she choked back a sob. “It’s been such a horrible day. Customers yelling at me, staff not doing their jobs, everything just piling up—” Her voice broke entirely, the words dissolving into tears.

Jayce reached her first, pulling her into his strong arms without hesitation. His embrace was firm but gentle, grounding her as she let herself fall apart. “It’s okay,” he murmured, one hand stroking her back. “You’re home now. You don’t have to deal with any of that here.”

Viktor placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch lighter but no less comforting. “Jayce is right,” he said softly. “You’ve done more than enough today. Let us take care of you now.”

Y/N nodded against Jayce’s chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat soothing her even as her tears continued to flow. She felt Viktor’s hand shift to her cheek, his thumb brushing away the dampness with careful precision.

“Sit down,” Jayce said, guiding her toward the couch. “You need to rest.”

Once she was seated, Viktor eased down beside her, his cane resting against the armrest. Jayce knelt in front of her, his large hands enveloping hers.

“Talk to us,” Jayce said, his voice low and steady. “Let it out. Everything.”

And she did. Between shaky breaths and sniffles, Y/N poured out the frustrations of her day—the impossible demands, the lack of support, the feeling of being completely overwhelmed. Through it all, Jayce and Viktor listened intently, their expressions a mix of empathy and quiet anger on her behalf.

“You’re incredible for handling all that,” Viktor said when she finally finished. His hand found hers, squeezing gently. “But you shouldn’t have to carry so much alone.”

Jayce nodded, his jaw tightening. “You’re not alone, okay? Next time something like this happens, let us know. We’ll find a way to help.”

Y/N smiled weakly, the weight on her chest lifting slightly at their words. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Now,” Viktor said, shifting slightly to rest more comfortably, “you’re going to sit here and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the evening.”

“And we’ll handle everything else,” Jayce added, standing and rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll make us some dinner. Viktor, grab her that fuzzy blanket she likes.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, the sound watery but genuine. “You two are ridiculous.”

“And you love us for it,” Viktor replied, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Jayce returned moments later with a steaming cup of tea and pressed a kiss to her forehead before heading to the kitchen. Viktor draped the blanket over her lap, his hand lingering on hers as they shared a quiet moment.

As the warmth of their love surrounded her, Y/N felt the tension of the day begin to melt away. No matter how chaotic the world outside became, she knew she had this—these two men who loved her fiercely and completely.

And that was more than enough.

VANDER

The Last Drop was alive with its usual rowdy energy—boisterous laughter, the clink of mugs, and the hum of lively conversation filled the air. Y/N weaved through the crowd with practiced ease, balancing a tray of drinks in one hand while offering polite smiles to the patrons she passed.

It was a busy night, and as much as she enjoyed helping Vander run the bar, the constant motion was beginning to wear her down. Still, she kept her head high and her demeanor calm. That was, until they walked in.

A group of four swaggered through the door, loud and brash from the moment they entered. One man, tall and broad-shouldered, seemed to take the lead, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Y/N. His grin was sharp, and there was a glint in his eyes that made her stomach twist.

As the group settled at a table, Y/N approached to take their orders.

“Evenin’, folks,” she said, keeping her tone professional. “What can I get for you?”

“Well, aren’t you a sweet one?” the tall man drawled, leaning back in his chair. His companions chuckled, and the woman among them shot Y/N a condescending smirk.

“Just here to do my job,” Y/N replied evenly, though her grip on her notepad tightened.

They rattled off their orders, and Y/N turned to leave, but the tall man spoke again. “Don’t forget to smile, darling. You look prettier that way.”

The comment made her skin crawl, but she forced herself to keep walking. She couldn’t let them get to her.

As the night went on, the group only grew more obnoxious. They called for refills before finishing their drinks, sent her back to the bar with complaints about nonexistent issues, and made thinly veiled comments about her looks. At one point, as Y/N was clearing their table, the tall man “accidentally” knocked a glass onto the floor, shattering it.

“Oh, my bad,” he said with a smirk. “Guess you’ll have to clean that up.”

The group erupted into laughter, and the woman gave Y/N a look of mock pity. “Must be hard, working here. But then again, someone’s gotta do it.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned, her chest tightening with frustration and humiliation. But she bit her tongue, quickly gathering the broken glass and retreating to the pantry under the guise of getting more supplies.

As soon as she was alone, the tears she’d been holding back spilled over. She sank onto a small stool, pressing her hands to her face to stifle her sobs.

“Y/N?”

The deep, familiar voice made her freeze. She looked up to see Vander standing in the doorway, concern etched across his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping inside and crouching in front of her.

Y/N shook her head, wiping at her cheeks. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Vander said gently but firmly. He reached out, brushing a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. “What happened?”

She hesitated, but the kindness in his eyes broke down her resolve. “It’s that group at table five,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “They’ve been... difficult all night. And I tried to handle it, I really did, but—” Her voice cracked, and she looked away.

Vander’s jaw tightened, his blue eyes darkening. He straightened, his broad frame filling the doorway as he looked back toward the bar.

“Stay here,” he said, his voice low but steady.

“Vander, you don’t have to—”

“I’ll handle it.”

Y/N watched as he left, her heart pounding.

Back in the bar, Vander approached table five, his presence commanding immediate attention. The group’s laughter died down as he loomed over them, his arms crossed and his expression like thunder.

“You think it’s funny to treat my staff like that?” he said, his voice calm but with an edge that sent a shiver through the room.

The tall man opened his mouth, likely to retort, but Vander cut him off. “I don’t care what you think you’re owed. You’re done here. Pay your tab, leave a tip, and get out.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

“I said now,” Vander added, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Grumbling, the tall man threw some coins on the table, and the group shuffled out under Vander’s watchful gaze. Once they were gone, he collected the coins and added a generous tip out of his own pocket before heading back to the pantry.

Y/N looked up as he entered, her eyes still puffy.

“They’re gone,” he said simply, holding out the coins. “This is for you.”

She stared at him, then shook her head. “I can’t take that, Vander.”

“Yes, you can,” he insisted, pressing the money into her hand. “You’ve earned it. And more than that, you deserve better than how they treated you.”

Her lip quivered, and she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Vander wrapped his arms around her, his embrace solid and reassuring. “Always,” he murmured. “Now, take a break. I’ll handle the rest tonight.”

For the first time that evening, Y/N felt the tension in her chest ease. With Vander at her side, she knew she was safe—and valued.

SILCO

The dim glow of the lamps in Silco’s office cast long shadows on the walls, but their usual warmth did nothing to ease the tension in the air. Silco paced back and forth behind his desk, his movements sharp and deliberate. His mismatched eyes flicked toward the papers scattered across the surface, their contents detailing the fallout of a deal gone sour.

His jaw clenched, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, a rare crack in his otherwise impenetrable façade. The task had been straightforward, a key step in solidifying his influence in Zaun. But now, it was unraveling, threatening to spiral out of control.

“Idiots,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and venomous. “How hard is it to follow simple instructions?”

Y/N stood quietly near the door, watching him with concern. She had seen him like this before—frustrated, coiled like a spring ready to snap—but this time was different. The weight of the failure seemed to press down on him more than usual, and it pained her to see him like this.

“Silco,” she called gently, her voice cutting through the oppressive silence.

He stopped mid-stride, his gaze snapping to her. For a moment, the stress in his expression softened at the sight of her, but it quickly returned as he waved toward the papers.

“This was supposed to be a turning point,” he said, his voice strained. “Instead, it’s a mess. And now I have to fix it before it becomes a disaster.”

Y/N approached him slowly, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “You don’t have to do it alone,” she said softly.

Silco’s eyes searched hers, doubt flickering briefly in his gaze. “This isn’t your burden to bear.”

“It is if it’s yours,” she replied firmly. “Let me handle it.”

He hesitated, but the resolute look in her eyes left no room for argument. Silco trusted few people in the world, but Y/N had proven herself time and again. With a small nod, he relented.

“All right,” he said, his voice low. “But be careful.”

Y/N smiled, brushing a hand lightly over his cheek before turning to leave. “I’ll do more than be careful. I’ll make it right.”

Y/N moved through the dimly lit corridors of the industrial district with purpose, Silco’s top lieutenants trailing behind her. She barked orders with an authority that left no room for hesitation, her voice steady and commanding.

“You,” she said, pointing to one of the men. “Secure the shipment and make sure it gets to the drop point without issue. And you,” she turned to another, “get word to our contact that we’re renegotiating. I want them ready to talk by the time I return.”

The men exchanged uncertain glances but quickly snapped to attention under her sharp gaze. They knew better than to question her—she carried Silco’s trust, and that was enough for them.

Over the next few hours, Y/N worked tirelessly, adjusting plans, smoothing over tensions, and ensuring every detail was accounted for. By the time she returned to Silco’s office, her clothes were smudged with the grime of Zaun’s underbelly, but her expression was triumphant.

Silco looked up from his desk as she entered, his mismatched eyes scanning her for any sign of trouble.

“It’s done,” Y/N announced, dropping a ledger onto his desk. “The shipment’s secure, the deal’s renegotiated, and we even managed to get better terms than before.”

Silco stared at her, momentarily stunned. “Better terms?”

She smirked, crossing her arms. “Let’s just say their desperation worked in our favor.”

For the first time that night, a genuine smile tugged at the corners of Silco’s lips. He stood, stepping around the desk to pull her into his arms.

“You’re remarkable,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Y/N leaned into him, her hands resting lightly on his chest. “You’d do the same for me.”

Silco chuckled softly, his tension finally melting away. “Perhaps. But not as flawlessly.”

She grinned, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “That’s why we make such a good team.”

Silco’s grip on her tightened slightly, his mismatched eyes filled with something rare—peace. For the first time that night, the chaos seemed manageable, and he had her to thank for it.

POWDER/JINX

The sound of clattering tools and muttered curses echoed through Jinx’s lair. Her workstation was a chaotic mess—gears, wires, and pieces of scrap metal strewn everywhere. At the center of it all was Jinx, her blue braids whipping around as she shoved components aside and growled in frustration.

“Why won’t you work?!” she snapped, slamming her hands on the table. Her latest invention—a bomb with intricate carvings and glowing accents—lay in pieces before her, stubbornly refusing to cooperate.

With a sharp huff, Jinx grabbed a wrench and flung it across the room. It clanged loudly against a wall, joining the growing pile of discarded tools and failed prototypes.

As her anger bubbled over, the door to her lair creaked open. Y/N stepped inside, her footsteps soft but deliberate. She paused to take in the scene—Jinx’s flushed face, the scattered debris, and the faint smell of singed wires hanging in the air.

“Hey, Bluebird,” Y/N said gently, her tone filled with the kind of warmth only a mother figure could offer.

Jinx froze mid-tantrum, her hands still clutching a pair of pliers. She turned to Y/N, her mismatched eyes wide and wild. “Don’t ‘Bluebird’ me right now, Y/N! This stupid thing won’t work, and I’ve tried everything! It’s broken, I’m broken—everything’s broken!”

Y/N smiled softly, stepping closer but keeping her movements slow and non-threatening. “Nothing’s broken,” she said calmly, her voice steady. “Sometimes things just need a fresh perspective.”

Jinx scoffed, slumping into a chair and crossing her arms. “A fresh perspective? Great. Got any of those lying around, genius?”

Y/N chuckled, kneeling beside her and resting a hand on her knee. “You know, my mom used to tell me something when I’d get stuck on a problem,” she began, her tone warm and nostalgic. “She’d say, ‘If your head’s on fire, you can’t see the flames.’”

Jinx blinked, her brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Y/N explained, “when you’re too worked up, you can’t think clearly. You’ve got to calm the storm in here first,” she tapped Jinx’s temple gently, “before you can fix anything else.”

Jinx stared at her for a moment, her lips twitching as if she wanted to argue. But the sincerity in Y/N’s eyes was disarming, and she let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

“Fine,” she muttered, leaning back in her chair. “Storm’s calmed. Now what?”

Y/N grinned, pulling up a stool and examining the bomb on the table. “Now we take it slow and figure this out together.”

Over the next hour, Y/N and Jinx worked side by side. Y/N’s calm demeanor balanced Jinx’s chaotic energy, and they carefully retraced each step of the bomb’s construction.

“Here,” Y/N said at one point, pointing to a misaligned wire. “This might be the issue. Looks like it’s not making a proper connection.”

Jinx leaned in, squinting at the spot. “Huh. How’d I miss that?”

“Because your head was on fire,” Y/N teased, earning a small laugh from Jinx.

Together, they adjusted the wire and made a few more tweaks. When the bomb finally whirred to life, its glowing accents pulsating rhythmically, Jinx’s face lit up with childlike glee.

“Ha! I knew it would work!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Y/N.

Y/N laughed, hugging her back tightly. “You did all the hard work, sweetheart. I just helped you see it.”

Jinx pulled back slightly, her grin softening into something more tender. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Y/N smirked, brushing a strand of blue hair from Jinx’s face. “Of course I do. And don’t forget—you’ve got this. Even when it’s tough.”

Jinx’s laughter echoed through the lair, the tension from earlier completely melted away. For now, she felt safe, grounded, and understood—thanks to Y/N’s unshakable presence.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce x y/n #jayce talis x reader #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #jayvik x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #silco x reader #vander x reader

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nomie-11 · 3 days ago

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Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader - Between Worlds

masterlist!

synopsis: When a shimmering portal pulls you into the magical city of Piltover, you forge an unbreakable bond with Caitlyn Kiramman, a curious girl who shows you her glittering world. Years later, the portal reappears, but the Piltover you return to is darkened by war, and Caitlyn is now a cold, battle-hardened general. As you struggle to rekindle your bond and navigate the city’s buried secrets, you must confront the scars of time and war to rediscover the magic you once shared—and the promise you made to return.

You had read narnia when you were six, everyone read it at some point in their childhoods where you were from. You had read Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, and The Magic Treehouse, but magic wasn’t real. Magic was a thing of stories, a world that didn’t exist and a medium that wasn’t possible. But this, shimmering, shifting, living entity in your closet was magic.

It looked like an iridescent web, shifting and gurgling every time you reached your hand toward it. It acted as if it would like to swallow you whole, to transport you to another world, another dimension.

But still, you couldn’t resist reaching out and brushing your hand against its pearly white colors. You touched first with one finger, then pressed another one down, until your whole hand was flush against the entity in your closet, and then you pressed your arm into it, up until your elbow.

It happened all at one. A pull—sharp, yet soft—like the tide dragging you into an ocean of light. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t think, only tumble into a spinning abyss of sound and color. When the world stopped tilting, you landed hard on your knees, your hands sinking into something cold yet soft. Grass.

Looking up, your breath hitched. This wasn’t your room, your world. The sky above was a shade of blue more vibrant than you’d ever seen before, streaked with clouds that looked almost painted. Strange, towering gold buildings jutted up all along the skyline, their surfaces glimmering like glass. Even the air smelled different—sweet, electric, and sharp.

You turned, your heart hammering. That’s when you saw her.

A girl about your age stood a few paces away, her wide, curious eyes locking onto yours. Her hair was a cascade of deep indigo, tied neatly, and her clothing—a tailored vest and high boots—looked straight out of a storybook.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice crisp yet cautious.

For a moment, all you could do was gape. How were you supposed to explain? Your clothes—a plain t-shirt and jeans—felt glaringly out of place, as if the entire world had turned to stare at your modernity. You opened your mouth, closed it, and tried again.

“Are you a princess?”

“A princess?” She echoed, tilting her head.

“Yeah. A princess, like from Disney, or… England!” You snapped your fingers, hoping she would know at least what England was, even if Disney didn’t exist in this… universe(?) you had somehow fallen into.

“I hate to be rude, but I’m not a ‘princess,’ whatever that is,” she replied, her lips quirking upward in a faith smile as if amused by the strange terminology. “My name is Caitlyn Kiramman. And you… well, you’re not from Piltover, are you?”

Piltover. You repeated the name in your head, trying to place it on the map that hung on the wall of your homeroom. Piltover, piltover… Piltover doesn’t exist. “I’m… not sure where that is. I mean… no. I’m not from here.”

Her eyes scanned your clothes—your jeans, sneakers, and the faded cartoon character printed on your shirt. She looked utterly perplexed, but there was no malice in her expression, only curiosity.

Before you could explain further, a deeper voice interrupted.

“Cait, who is this?”

An older man approached—a man with kind eyes holding a box of gadgets and cogs. You stiffened under his gaze, shrinking as you struggled to piece together a coherent explanation.

“Jayce! She’s…” Caitlyn hesitated. She glanced at you, then back to him. “A traveler. I found her in the garden. I think she might be lost.”

The man frowned but didn’t press further. “Come on, let’s get the two of you home. Your mother will know what to do.”

—--------------------

The days that followed felt like something out of a fever dream. Caitlyn’s family assumed you were from a distant, eccentric city. They marveled at your strange dialect and unfamiliar clothing, but chalked it up to ‘cultural differences.’

Jayce, the older man Caitlyn was friends with, seemed weirdly interested in the Nintendo DS you had stuffed into your back pocket, asking how the screen worked and how the game played, despite you not knowing because you had bought it at a store and didn’t build it yourself. When you asked if he had a cell phone so you could call your mom to pick you up, he spent 20 hours interrogating your over cellular data and wi-fi and what a phone number was.

And Caitlyn? She became your guide, your lifeline to understanding this glittering, bewildering world. She showed you the bustling streets of Piltover, the towering spires of the academy district, the clockwork marvels that hummed and whirred like living creatures. She laughed at your questions and called you “peculiar” with a warmth that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

But as quickly as it began, it ended.

One morning, you awoke to find the shimmering portal in Caitlyn’s room—a mirror to the one in your own closet at home—pulsating with light. A whisper in the back of your mind told you it was time. Time to go back.

Tears burned in Caitlyn’s eyes as you explained. She argued at first, begging you to stay, but deep down, you both knew it wasn’t possible.

“You’ll come back, won’t you?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Promise me.”

“I will,” you swore, linking your pinky with hers (another thing you had taught her one day when you made her promise to save you a cookie at lunch). “I promise.”

But promises made by children are fragile things.

—-----------------------------------------

Years passed in your world, though they felt strangely muted. After stumbling back through the portal into your closet, you’d collapsed on your bedroom floor, clutching at your chest like you’d left your heart behind in Piltover. Your parents found you hours later, dazed and rambling about ‘clockwork cities’ and a girl named Caitlyn. They assumed it had all been a vivid dream, a figment of your overactive imagination spurred by too many fantasy books.

At first, you fought to hold onto the memories—scribbling sketches of golden spires, random doodles of Jayce’s kind eyes and his gadgets, charcoal drawings of Caitlyn’s smile and the warmth behind her blue eyes. But as days blurred into years, doubt crept in. Had it been real? The glow of the portal, the hum of the streets, Caitlyn’s hand clasped in yours—was it all just a child’s desperate attempt to escape the terror of reality?

Life continued. Schools, jobs, growing up. Yet something always felt missing, like a part of you had been carved out and left in a faraway world. Your friends talked about travel, of finding their heart in a foreign country or a far off place, but no country on any map called to you.

It wasn’t until you stumbled upon the cave during a hiking trip—its walls etched with shimmering patterns—that the memories flooded back. The portal stood before you, alive and beckoning, just as it had all those years ago.

You didn’t hesitate this time.

The pull was familiar, a spinning rush that left your stomach in your throat. When you landed, the air smelled of oil and smoke, sharp and acrid, and so different from the sweet electric scent you remembered. The skyline of Piltover had changed—darker, more imposing, with huge spheres rising up out of pillars, airships being shot into space with a beam of blue light.

Clutching the strap of your hiking back, you made your way down the familiar streets of the once golden city down to the Kiramman estate. But as you rounded the final corner, your steps faltered. The once-grand house stood as a fortress now, its once open and ornate gates replaced with cold, closed iron and armed guards.

You hesitated, lingering in the shadows as unease crept up your spine. This wasn’t the home you’d left behind. The Caitlyn you knew wouldn’t need walls to protect her. What had happened to Piltover?

Before you could decide your next move, the sharp clang of metal boots echoed behind you.

“State your business,” an enforcer barked, his rifle trained on you.

You raised your hands, stammering, “I’m looking for Caitlyn Kiramman. Please—I knew her years ago.”

The enforcer’s face hardened. “You’re trespassing. Come quietly, or we’ll make this difficult.”

Fear prickled at the edges of your mind, but before you could protest, a voice sliced through the tense air.

“Let her go.”

The enforcers immediately straightened, their weapons lowering as a figure emerged from the shadows behind the iron gate.

Caitlyn.

Or at least, the woman she had become.

Her indigo hair was tied up into a perfect ponytail. Her once curious eyes were colder, her posture rigid in a crisp uniform adorned with medals. She was taller, her presence commanding and distant. The girl who had laughed with you under Piltover’s painted skies was nowhere to be found.

“Take her to the station,” Caitlyn said without sparing you a glance.

Your chest constricted. “Cait, it’s me!”

She paused, her expression flickering for a split second before the mask of authority returned.

“Take her,” she repeated, turning on her heel.

You struggled against the enforcers as they dragged you away, shouting her name until your voice was hoarse. But Caitlyn didn’t look back.

It wasn’t until hours later, after being confined in a holding cell in Piltover’s industrial heart, that she finally appeared again. This time, she dismissed the guards before stepping inside, her boots clicking sharply against the cold floor.

“Who are you?” she asked, her tone detached, but there was a tremor beneath it—a crack in the facade.

“It’s me,” you whispered, stepping forward. “Don’t you remember? The traveler who stumbled into your garden? The one who promised she’d come back.”

She flinched, just barely, but enough for you to notice.

“You… remember me,” you said, hope threading through your voice.

Her jaw tightened. “It doesn’t matter. That was a lifetime ago. Whoever you think I was, she’s gone.”

“No.” Your voice shook, but you stood your ground. “You’re still you. You’re Caitlyn Kiramman. You’re the girl who taught me how to climb the academy steps without tripping. The girl who shared her sweets even when I didn’t ask. The girl who pinky-promised to save me a cookie at lunch. You’re still her.”

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, almost imperceptibly, her shoulders slumped. The mask she wore cracked, and for the first time, you saw the weight she carried.

“I waited,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “For years, I waited. But you didn’t come back and things changed. People died.”

“I couldn’t find the portal again,” you admitted, tears welling in your eyes. “I thought it was gone forever. I thought maybe… I imagined it all. But I didn’t, and I’m here now.”

Caitlyn’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You don’t understand what you’ve come back to. Piltover isn’t the same place you left. We’re at war and I’m the leading general. I’m not the same person.”

“Then let me understand,” you said, stepping closer. “Show me.”

For a long moment, she simply stared at you. Then, slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing against yours.

“Maybe,” she whispered, “it’s too late.”

-------

request for @multi-muse-transect <3

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

#caitlyn x y/n #caitlyn x you #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn kiramman x female reader #caitlyn kiramman x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane x reader #arcane caitlyn #arcane caitlyn x reader #caitlyn x fem reader #arcane #piltover's gayest

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violentdelights-violentendss · 3 days ago

Note

i got ANOTHER IDEA ! !! !! what about the last request but flipped. the men just being utterly WHIPPED for reader and just being clingy and loving in their own respective ways; except maybe instead of fedya you could do poe or chuuya? fdmnsmasksdjfkshfks. i LOVE you and ur writing so MUCH thank you for feeding me

YES OFC I LOVE THESE SM!!! I'm so sorry I died and come back just now… but better late than ever, right? I’m not really proud of this but I hope you enjoy! Please request anything else, specifically you, Cherie-soup darling!!! I adore your requests!!!

BSD Men being Clingy

In this post: ✨Chuuya✨, ✨Akutagawa✨ and ✨Dazai✨

Pairing: Fem!reader x BSDMen

Synopsis: BSD Men being clingy with their girlfriends

Dazai

This man…he is the king of clinginess. He is constantly touching you. Some body part of his is perpetually in contact with you. He physically cannot get enough of you. Could it also be because he is terrified of losing you? Possibly. But he will never admit to it. Dazai hides behind his carefree attitude, so engrained in his behaviour that it takes months, if we’re being optimistic, probably years for him to admit that the constant skin contact reassures his traumatised heart. Whether he has had the courage to tell you or not, you're insightful enough to realise the true meaning hidden behind the way his hand constantly seems to call your name when you're far away. You don't mind, almost craving it as much as he does. Everyone in the agency knows that if they need you or Dazai, they just need to find one of you because the other is probably walking besides them. Dazai's hands permanently being around your waist, and yours being perpetually on his back.

You slipped inside the elevator, walking as quietly as your heels would permit, shooting nervous glances at the couch inside the break room. From the hallway you could spot Dazai's long legs slung over the edge, and his chest peacefully rising and falling as he slept. A negotiation attempt with the Port Mafia had been called due to a recent mission, and Dazai, being the resident expert, was sent with Fukuzawa to the meeting. No matter how much Dazai smiled and joked as per usual, the minute he stepped inside the office you could tell he was exhausted. He would never admit to it, but it was draining going back to the world he once belonged to, back to his nightmarish past. It was traumitizing for him, and forced Dazai to face a version of himself he had tried to get rid of. But the past is persistent and seemingly clung onto the straps of his long coat, reaching into his mind. Every single time Dazai had to deal with the Port Mafia he never sleeps through the night, either staying up with a glass of rum or lying in bed just for your sake but never closing his eyes for a second. Being his partner, you know this better than anyone; when you had looked over and spotted your boyfriend sleeping, for what seemed to be the first time in forever, you tried to leave as quietly as you could when Kunikida had asked you to go get some coffees for the rest of the agency.

You watched the doors of the elevator slide shut, a small triumphant smile dancing on your lips. Before you could yell victory, a familiar, slender hand slipped through the minuscule gap left in between the closing metal doors. The sensor activated, the doors springing back, revealing a sleepy Dazai rubbing his eyes. You sighed in defeat, your head hitting the back of the elevator as your boyfriend slinked inside. He came to stand next to you, his familiar cologne caressing your cheeks.

“Where’re you going?” Dazai asked, his words slurred with the lilt of sleep.

“Coffee. You need to go back to bed.” You replied. “Come on, go.” You placed both of your hands on his shoulder, trying to shove him towards the door. Surprisingly, your tall, lanky boyfriend didn’t even budge when you threw your whole weight against him. You huffed, your face red. Dazai gazed down at you, a glint in his eyes as he grinned.

“I’m not that easy to get rid of, Bella Donna,” he cooed, the sleepiness now gone from his features, the pain from the day grazing the surface of his eyes.

You gave up, leaning against his chest. “I don’t want to get rid of you: I want for you to sleep.” You whined, looking at him with exasperation marring your lips. “I was so quiet. I basically floated over the ground! How did you even hear me?”

Dazai didn’t respond for a second, letting his fingertips glide down your cheek, before following the curve of your neck. “Because, my love,” he leaned down towards you, your lips millimeters apart. “As the sunflowers follow the sun, I follow mine wherever she goes.” His lips pressed against yours, tasting your vanilla lip gloss, the one he adored the most. Your eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the kiss, pulling back only to press your forehead against his.

Dazai straitened his back, smirking down at you. You lifted on your tiptoes, reaching his ear. Dazai’s hand wrapped around your waist, holding you steadily against him. “No matter how much you sweet talk me, I’m forcing you to nap with me when we get back home.” You whispered, pulling back to wink at him.

Dazai sighed, raising his arms. “Can’t say a man didn’t try.”

The smile that lit your face gave Dazai enough energy to last through the day, the warmth from your love making him eventually fall asleep in your lap back home, no nightmares haunting his mind for once.

Chuuya

Chuuya is extremely clingy, but he does it in a more subtle way than Dazai. His eyes will always follow you in a room filled with people, never letting you go. Whenever you’re standing next to him, he will subtly hold you. Chuuya doesn’t let himself be too clingy: being in the Port Mafia he never wants to attract too much attention to you, and mark you as a potential target. He knows that he would be able to rescue you, but he doesn’t even want to risk it. Plus, he has a reputation to maintain as the cruel mafia boss, or at least what’s left of his reputation after Dazai spent most of his free time back in day the spreading rumours about him (Chuuya never slept in unicorn pjs, thank you very much). But Chuuya needs you to be next to him, always. When he and you are alone, in private, he will always be draped over you, in some way or another. He wants to do everything with you. You’re going grocery shopping and it’s his one day off? He’s putting his shoes on as we speak. Anything he does with you for him is special, and could never be boring, because you are everything to him. You’re the air he needs to survive, and he will make sure you know that.

“Babydoll, I’m home!” Chuuya called, closing the door behind him with a kick of his leg. He hung his hat on the wall, running a hand through his hair.

“Welcome home! I’m in the shower!” Your distant voice echoed back to him, bouncing in the house. Just the sound of your voice made Chuuya’s heart flutter.

“I’m gonna make myself some food!” Chuuya called back, taking off his vest and draping it on the back of a kitchen chair. He immediately started looking through your cupboards, craving some chocolate chip cookies with milk. He’d seen Mori’s ability, Elise, dunk a chocolate chip cookie in a glass filled with milk during a meeting today, and it hadn’t gotten out of his head. Quickly locating the ingredients, he held them all in his arms, before he leisurely made his way to the bathroom.

Chuuya waltzed in, finding you standing in the shower, shaving your leg. You looked up at him, blinking in surprise. Chuuya, unfazed, sat on the toilet, biting into the cookie. “Hey darling,” he waved, swallowing.

“What are you doing?” You asked tentatively, holding the unmoving razor against your leg.

Chuuya lazily grinned at you, taking a swig of his milk as if it were whiskey. “Spending time with the woman I love.”

“By sitting on the toilet while I’m in the shower?”

“Of course. I don’t see anything weird about this: you’re here, therefore I am here.”

You laughed out loud, the absurdity of the situation swirling joyfully in your chest. You looked at Chuuya with a gleaming smile dancing on your lips, hastily throwing down the razor and jumping out of the shower to envelop Chuuya in a hug. “Only you could be this imperfectly awesome.” You whispered in his ear. Chuuya coughed loudly, trying to hide the blush that dusted his face by burying his face in your hair.

He was about to declare his never ending love for you sensually, hoping to take advantage of your nakedness to have a little fun, when he felt the cookie in his hand be nibbled at subtly. He pulled away from the hug, watching as you grinned at him, half of his cookie dangling from your mouth. “All of this was a ploy to steal my cookies?” He yelled in mock horror.

You played along, cackling like a witch. “Of course!”

He glanced at you for a moment, finding breathtaking beauty in every square millimeter of your face. Chuuya slid his hand along your arm, gently holding your face in place. “Truthfully, my dear, you could steal all of my cookies without asking me and I’d still love you to death.” He whispered, before leaning down to press a kiss against your lips. You closed your eyes, melting into the embrace that was forever your home.

Akutagawa

Oh boy… Akutagawa being clingy is something else. It doesn’t start immediately; at the beginning of your relationship, Akutagawa is less than clingy. You are the one that initiates all type of physical contact, and your traumatized, awkward, little man responds as smoothly as a block of ice would dance on the dance floor. He moves slowly, but your encouraging smile helps him loosen up. It does take a long, long while, however, for him to initiate physical contact himself. Deep down, even if Akutagawa doesn’t want to admit it to himself, he is so, so, so clingy. He needs it, he craves it. He desires it so much it makes his skin crawl. His clinginess starts manifesting in an almost stalker-like way. He stands quietly in the corner of the room you’re also in, or he watches you from the dark hallway. You have been scared by him more than once, but you slowly start to get used to it, understanding that he needs a little push, even talking to him even if he stands in a corner. The warmth in your voices soothes him, and soon Akutagawa is confident enough to stroll up to you and hug you whenever he wishes. When he realizes he can do whatever he wishes, he almost never gets enough of it. He’s never as comfortable as you are, but he does get better. He does not like PDA, so it does take an eternity for him to even hold your hand in public, but he does starts to hug you in his office, only after he has made sure to lock the door of course. But, it’s still progress, and you can’t be happier to know your beloved boyfriend is slowly getting used to the idea that he has the right to be loved.

You were laid on the couch, watching a movie on your tv. It was your and Akutagawa’s day off, and he was currently fixing a wonky shelf in your entrance. You had offered to help him but he had gently pushed you towards the living room, before he had turned to inspect the wall. The noises from the hallway had stopped echoing in the apartment quite a few minutes ago, however, letting you question what your mafioso boyfriend was currently doing.

You glanced towards the hallway, ready to call him, when you noticed him standing in the doorway, looking at you. You flinched in surprise, and then smiled at him. You were about to call him, but you then recognized the stare of absolute, ardent, concentration that was encapsulated in his eyes: he was trying to imitate skin contact. Slowly, trying to pretend you hadn’t noticed anything you turned back to look at the movie. His creepy behavior wasn’t exactly new, letting you acquire a little bit of experience. You knew that if you had called out to him, he would have sprinted away like a startled deer. You had to wait for him to make his approach at his own pace.

And so, you did.

Over the span of thirty minutes, Akutagawa had slowly inched towards the couch, stiffly sitting on the opposite end from you. You pretended to not notice, grabbing your phone to swipe on instagram. You spent a little more than five minutes on there, quickly throwing your phone to the side when boredom had filled your mind. In that short amount of time, Akutagawa had slid along the couch to sit next to you. You froze, staying still. You could feel his knee grazing yours, your heart fluttering in anticipation.

You were expecting him to slowly reach for your hand, and then intertwine his fingers with yours, and, for a moment, you believed you were right when you felt his hand glide along yours. Your brows furrowed in confusion when he went past your hand and reached your waist. You gasped in surprise when his other hand landed on your thigh and he swiftly picked you up and placed you snuggly on his lap, wrapping his arms around you and smashing you against his chest. You blinked in surprise for a second, before melting into his hug. “Hey, Aku,” you whispered, trying not to squeal in delight: he had initiated physical contact, and in such an extreme way that he had never reached before! You could scream with joy, but you quickly tried to push down the geyser of delight pressing against your lip, choosing to nuzzle against him instead.

“Hey,” he murmured back, kissing your neck.

You two said nothing more after that, just simmering in each other’s warmth. Akutagawa’s locked limbs started to loosen over time, and your reassuring scent started to lull him to sleep. And for once, he didn’t resist it, letting Morpheus pull him in his embrace, confident he was safe, and that you were safe, lying in his arms. Nothing would hurt either of you. Before he was fully lulled into sleep, a small smile graced his lips, knowing he had never been this happy.

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mountainsandmayhem · 7 hours ago

Text

BDSMaid - Chapter 9

Series Summary: In order to save money for law school, you accept a job working as a maid for high end clients. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in more than just your curiosity peaks. Word Count: 5k CW: see small red lettering below the cut AN: I'm going to miss them!! I'm absolutely heartbroken that I'm done, but so fucking proud of myself for what I've created. Thank you to @lotusbxtch for being my beta from pretty much the very beginning. I am so grateful to you and so honoured (yes, with a u because I'm Canadian lol) to call you my friend. Also little shoutouts to @for-a-longlongtime, @alltheirdamn, @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for listening to me go on about them for 80% of 2024. As always, graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: unprotected p in v, one spank, multiple orgasms and Overstim hinted at, pining, heartbreak

Eight Months Later

Joel

“I got yelled at by a feisty brunette last night at that gala,” Tommy says as the two of them sip whiskey at the bar of the club.

“Probably deserved it.” Joel deadpans and closes the folder of invoices he’s looking over.

He should be doing this in his fancy, and newly renovated, office across the street. He was in the large office for all of three minutes the day after you left when he could only see the ghost of you. From the chair you sat in when you first asked him to teach you how to be a sub, to the door he pinned you against and confessed how out of his mind he was over you, everything was you, and it had to go if he had any chance of following what you needed from him. Joel hasn’t even been in his room at the club out of the fear of what it would do to him. Would I still be able to smell the lavender of her shampoo in there? Still be able to hear her beautiful cries of pleasure and pain bouncing off the walls?

“She thought I was you,” Tommy says, glancing over at his brother and interrupting Joel’s impending spiral.

Joel sighs, slipping his reading glasses from his face before taking a long pull of the amber liquor from his crystal glass. Tommy looks straight ahead as he continues.

“She’s doing great, by the way. Or at least that’s what her friend said when she was scolding me.”

Joel winces at his words, “Of course she is, Tommy.” Even though it's been almost a year since you left, just the mention of you rips his barely-mended heart back in half. It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, he still feels like he did in his kitchen.

The very fibers of his being ache just as hard for you now as they did then. He longs to see you and touch you, to feel your warm, soft skin under his hands again. Anyone before you was always, ‘Yes, Mister Miller,’ even when they weren’t in a scene; but not you. You weren’t afraid to be curious and unapologetically yourself. He hasn’t laughed as hard with anyone, including Tiffany, as he did with you. But the part that he misses the most is the way you look at him the first time you see him. Your eyes soften, velvety pink lips parting slightly before they curl into a smile that makes his heart hammer behind his ribs. Then, he watches your shoulders relax and it makes him feel like he hung the moon and stars for you, and if he could have, he would have.

He clears his throat and then rasps, “She’s too smart to not be doing well.”

Tommy stands, bringing his hands to rub at Joel's shoulders. He squeezes his tense deltoid muscles and with a hint of mischief in his voice he says, “Lots of pretty girls here tonight if you feel like moving on.”

Joel shakes his head and pulls away from Tommy’s grasp with a grunt. “Never gonna happen. Get outta here before you get yelled at two nights in a row.”

“Just too bad for me that you aren’t a hot brunette,” Tommy says with a laugh.

“I have brown hair,” Joel replies defensively, running his fingers through the grown out curls.

“Not to kick you when you’re down, but it’s mostly grey at this point.”

Joel holds up a single finger at Tommy over his shoulder as he laughs and walks away.

Two and a half years later

You

You’ve been up to your eyeballs in studying as you prepare for your finals. These last few years in California have been the hardest yet most fulfilling time of your life. Two nights in a row now, you’ve fallen asleep in the library, only waking when your Spotify would switch from the white noise playlist you use to help you focus, to your “getting ready” playlist. After dragging yourself to your dorm room in the dead of the night, you’d get a few restless hours of sleep before heading right back to your favourite studying spot. You can’t believe that in just a few short weeks you’ll be graduating and stepping into the life you’ve always envisioned for yourself.

The unmistakable FaceTime jingle fills your AirPods. Jamie’s name is splayed across the screen of your phone, along with a photo of the two of you at Albany Beach when she visited this past Christmas break. You put your highlighter down and slide the answer toggle over.

“Hey!” She says, her warm smile shining up at you. You squint, trying to place where she is. You don’t often let yourself think of Joel, but the cracks across your screen make FaceTiming difficult, and the selfish side of you always wishes you had grabbed that new phone before you left. Your head cocks to the side; broken screen or not, you don’t recognize the background.

“Where are you?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m good, thanks. How are you?” She jests with a mocking eye roll. “I’m at a cabin.”

“What cabin?” You say, glaring at her jokingly. A deep laugh comes from the otherside of the phone and your eyes widen. “Who’s that?”

The man's voice comes from offscreen, “I can’t believe you thought she wouldn’t ask where you were. She’s going to be a lawyer, for god's sake.”

“Jamie, who is that? What is going on here? Blink twice if you need rescuing!” You joke.

Jamie blushes, looking over the phone at whoever that voice is coming from. “I just wanted to call to see how the studying is going, and to let you know that I got the graduation tickets.”

A glass of white wine appears in front of Jamie and she smiles before puckering her lips in a kissing motion towards the man in the room with her. “Ok, seriously, who the fuck is that and where are you?”

“I was also calling to let you know that Laren can’t make it anymore and Odette is in New York,” she takes a small sip of her wine.

“Oh, well that’s ok,” you say, trying to squash the disappointment and hoping it doesn’t show in your voice or face. You wished that at least two of your three best friends would be there for you. “It can just be me and you, baby!”

“Well…I’m wondering if I could maybe bring my boyfriend? Might be a good opportunity for you two to meet.”

“What? What boyfriend?” You say, officially abandoning all study materials until you get some answers. Jamie raises a perfectly manicured finger and calls the mystery man over.

You swallow hard as Tommy Miller appears beside her.

Jamie glances up at him, her bright green eyes full of admiration, his mirroring hers. The starry look in their eyes tells you everything you need to know; they’re so far gone for that even a search and rescue team wouldn’t be able to save them. She looks back at you. “Meet again, I guess.”

You try to push for answers, but either of them give in, claiming you need to focus on finals. Before you hang up, Jamie promises to tell you the entire story when you see each other next. You’re happy for your friend, especially seeing the way Tommy looked back at her. Even through your cracked screen you could see the love, but as you try to go back to studying you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.

Graduation Day

You

The late afternoon sun fills your dorm room, boxes of your belongings stacked haphazardly around you. After walking the stage tonight, you are going out to dinner with Jamie and Tommy, and then he has paid for a hotel suite so the two of you can have a girls’ night. You can’t wait to hear how Tommy went from, in Jamie’s previous words, “my dad’s new asshole friend” to her boyfriend.

You step in front of your floor length mirror, zipping up the black graduation gown over your knee length, form fitting, deep emerald velvet dress. The California sun has been good to you, your tanned legs and sunkissed nose and cheeks are glowing. You place your blue and yellow Berkeley Law stole over your head and then grab your cap, ensuring the ‘Class of ‘28’ tassel is secure. You fluff your curls one last time as a light knock comes from your door.

“Ready to graduate, gorgeous?” Ronan smiles at you, eyes trailing down your gown. He’s the type of handsome that’s almost painful to look at, but more importantly - you wouldn’t have made it through these last three years without him. You met the first day - the lock on your door wasn’t working, and he waltzed in on you half naked when he mistook your room as his.

You smile at him in your doorway now; remembering the way you screamed at him that first time, trying to cover your chest, and him scrambling to close the door. His eyes were clamped shut, and he slammed his finger so hard that you had to take him for stitches. Now, several years later, he fills out his graduation gown perfectly with those wide rugby shoulders, a sight you couldn’t even have imagined back then. Whichever angel made him didn’t make a single mistake - he’s tall and insanely broad, with dark sandy blonde hair, and clover green eyes that in the right light are a golden hazel. He’s easily one of the smartest men you’ve ever met and an incredible athlete. The cherry on top, because of course there’s more: he’s an international student and has a panty-melting Irish accent.

“Beyond ready. Let's become lawyers, babe.”

He steps aside, one arm out in a ‘ladies first’ gesture. Handsome, charming, and thoughtful - a dangerous trifecta. You slide your hand in the crook of his muscle-lined arm and walk across campus together.

Ronan jerks his head towards the coffee cart. “Remember when you spilled your entire coffee on your new puffer jacket?”

You glare up at him, you saved for weeks to buy that jacket. “No, but I remember you throwing up in that trash can after the Halloween party last year.”

“Well, if Beach Party Barbie had helped Lifeguard Ken with all those shots we wouldn’t have had that problem, would we?” You laugh as Ronan puffs out his chest, but you both know he was more than willing to take your half of the ‘Best Couples Costume' shots.

Finally, you reach the courtyard where the law students will be walking across a stage that acts as the symbolic bridge to the rest of their lives. I’m a lawyer, you think to yourself and try to force a smile. The magnitude of the day only really starts to sink into your bones as you see the friends and families of your classmates start to take their seats. The excited feeling you had earlier starts to morph. You’re proud of yourself for what you’ve done these last three years, and this was just the first step. You have so much to look forward to, so why do you feel a sense of dread building in the pit of your stomach?

Ronan walks you to where you need to line up alphabetically, kissing your cheek and then, after leaning in and placing his large hand on your lower back, he whispers a joke about how you better not trip. You glance around the thick crowd for Jamie and Tommy. After realizing it’s hopeless to try and spot them in a group this large, you slip your cap over your hair and get in the procession line.

You try to soak in every minute of the day, from the speeches to the birds chirping in the background, but something akin to loss flutters at the base of your spine. You’re just as sad to be leaving Berkely as you are excited to carve out your future. Leaving here isn’t what’s causing you to feel this way, however. You try to tell yourself that maybe it’s just nerves; even with all the job offers coming in from your internships, it’s normal to be nervous about what comes next.

As the student union president gives his toast to the family and friends, you look down at your lap, pushing back the cuticle on your left thumb. Maybe it’s leaving Ronan. He’s been an anchor for you, grounding you almost every day of the last three years and you don’t know how you let yourself become this dependent on anyone, especially a man, again.

You shake your head at yourself and try to move your focus to the cuticle on your other thumb. Seeing the skin clean from the nail bed eases the tension slightly for you. ‘I’m allowed to be nervous when leaning on people, but not everyone will leave me,’ you recite almost automatically in your mind, the mantra you’ve had these past few years whenever you feel yourself getting this anxious. Just as you finish the thought, a car revs in the distance and the realization of what - or who - you’re actually missing slams through you so hard that you almost feel winded. Your lungs ache, tears pushing behind your eyes as his name rings loudly through your mind.

Joel.

You kept yourself busy since the minute you left Austin. The busier you were, the less time you had to focus on the void in your heart. During the school year, you didn’t have to find things to stay busy with; law school nearly chewed you up and spit you out. Over the summers, you worked as an intern and visited your friends. There was never a quiet moment, never too much time alone with your thoughts, and it was better this way. You can confidently say that you’d only thought of Joel six times since you walked out of his house that day: when you fell asleep on the beach and were so sunburnt you could barely move for three days; when you failed your first test; when your rusted SUV, that acted as your ticket to freedom at eighteen, died on the freeway in rush hour (from that point on you had to rely on public transportation to get you to the homes you cleaned). When you experienced your first earthquake; when you stayed up for forty-two hours straight after your partner in a group project didn’t have their side of the work done; and, lastly, this past New Year’s Eve when you were in Austin and thought you saw him at a party.

“Is he here?”, that little box of feelings that you shut away in a vault long ago wonders. “Has anything changed for him in the last three years?”

The small smile that pulls at your cheeks, and the excited flutter of your heart when you think about the possibility of seeing him again, proves that maybe nothing has changed for you. As the minutes tick by, your mind races with all the possible scenarios for after the ceremony. What if he is here? What will you say? What will he say? How will Ronan react, you know he has strong feelings about what happened between you and Joel. Even worse though, what if he’s not here? But maybe he’s at the hotel where Tommy and Jamie are staying?

Before you know it, your row is standing and walking single file towards the stage. With each strike of your high-heeled strappy sandals against the concrete, a memory of Joel floods your system. The toast he made you in his kitchen, the kiss in that dimly lit hallway on your birthday, the way he walked you through his club and how calmly he talked about you being in charge before going into the voyeur room. The multitude of orgasms he gave you within the four walls of his private room. Him singing on the small stage of the dive bar you found, followed by him spanking you right there in the bathroom with his hand clamped to your face to keep you quiet. His strong hand grasping your thigh as he drove you to his house. The way he tasted on your tongue. The smell of his skin: all ash and leather, occasionally mixed with whiskey or mint. The feel of his body: hard, broad and hot. His shuddered breaths as he confessed so many things in so few words.

‘It’s only you, sweet girl.’

‘Just call me Joel.’

‘I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.’

You carefully walk up the stairs, forcing the thoughts of Joel from your mind, just in time to hear your name announced as a graduate of Berkeley Law. You float across the stage, grabbing the piece of paper that acts as your degree until the real one comes, shaking the hand of the Dean who flips your tassel before you walk to the stairs on the other side; the stairs that symbolize the ending of your time here and the beginning of the rest of your life.

As you reach the top of the steps, you look out into the audience and see Jamie. She pumps her fist in the air and before you can process the empty seat beside her, you feel it; a strong tug from behind your navel. It takes you less than a heartbeat to find him and the sight before you floods your body with a familiar warmth. Standing under a large tree at the edge of the audience, dressed in all black, and holding his Stetson hat to his heart, is Joel. For the first time in years you feel whole again.

You keep your gaze on him, worried that if you so much as blink that he’ll be gone. You are supposed to follow your classmates, but you veer left, walking towards Joel. The closer you get, the more at ease you feel. He’s real, you think, he’s here. You stop a foot or so in front of him.

“Hi, Freckles,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes dance around your face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. You can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling exactly how you are.

“Hi, Sweet Cheeks,” you say, the same tremble in your voice, as you try desperately to hold it together. “You’re here.”

He nods and you give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind races. There’s so much you want to say, but now that he’s standing right there in front of you after three years, you don’t know where to start.

Joel breaks the silence, jutting his chin in the direction of the other graduates as he says, “I saw you come in with your boyfriend. When I saw you kiss, I was going to leave, but I made you a promise.”

You knit your eyebrows together and take a step closer. “Boyfriend?”

“The man you walked over here with,” Joel says, his black Stetson sliding down the chest you so desperately want to touch as he drops his hands to his sides. He’s left no barriers between the two of you except the heartbreak that’s evident on his face.

You laugh quietly, “No, he’s - that’s Ronan.”

Joel nods. “Okay.”

“He’s my friend,” you clarify, and when Joel’s face stays the same, you add, “And he’s still as gay as the day we first met!”

Joel lets out a whoosh of a breath and closes the distance between the two of you, his free hand comes to one of your curls, twirling the end of it around his thick fingers. Soft and silky meets rough and calloused. “I’m so proud of you, Freckles.”

You don’t miss how he watches your tongue dart between your lips, “Thank you.”

“So? How does it feel?” He gives you a soft crooked smile, his dimple carving into the short facial hair of his salt and pepper beard. Between that smile, and the way his brown eyes wash over you, you’re overcome with affection. He let you go. He did exactly as you asked him. He didn’t chase you or try to convince you to stay. You told him if he really loved you, then he’d do exactly this; and in turn, he did what he said he would.

He showed up.

“I love you,” you state and the air between you turns electric, almost like this moment could either set you both aflame or act as a generator for your future together. Joel gives you that look, the one that makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. He lets the curled end of your hair slip from his fingers, reaching up towards your graduation cap but hesitating.

“May I?” He rasps and swallows hard.

You nod, and knowing exactly what he’s going for, you take the Stetson from his other hand and place it on your head after he removes your cap. The brim of it blocks out everything but the two of you.

“Say that again, sweet girl,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” it’s barely a whisper this time. “Even after three years apart, you are everything to me. I asked you to let me go so I could accomplish this, and you did. You’ve always done what I asked, what I needed. I’m not sorry for what happened between us, but I am sorry that I missed out on getting to spend the last three years with you looking at me how you are now. I love you, Joel Miller.”

He brings his lips within a breath of yours, and your body practically vibrates with the knowledge that if you leaned just a bit forward, you’d finally have his mouth on you again. You can almost taste the mint on his tongue as the familiar fragrance of ash and leather surround you. “I have dreamed of hearing those three words leave your beautiful lips more times than I can count, baby. You’re it for me. I’ll do anything for you, even if it means breaking my own heart, but I’m always going to be here for you, rooting for you and encouraging you. I’m glad you’re not sorry, because I’m not, I’m so fucking proud of you. I love you, too, my sweet girl.”

Finally, he presses his warm, firm lips against yours while pulling you tight to his body. You wrap an arm around his neck, holding the black cowboy hat against your head with your other hand. It doesn’t matter that the ceremony isn’t done, or that there are hundreds of people to your right. For the first time in three years, everything goes quiet. He hums contentedly and you feel yourself melt against him, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. He parts his lips, letting you take the first swipe of your tongue against his. Need floods your system, and based on the way he grinds into you, he’s feeling the same.

He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours. “Take me home,” you practically purr.

“Where do you want home to be? I’ll go anywhere,” Joel rasps, running his nose down the bridge of yours.

“Austin,” you respond, your breath catching as his lips ghost along the side of your mouth.

“I sold my portion of the club to Tommy and Tess. I don’t have anything holding me in Austin anymore, sweet girl. If you have a job offer you really want, that’s where we’ll go.” You pull back to look at him. You can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s serious.

“I want to go to Austin. I have a job offer there.”

“Good thing I told Tommy not to touch my room at the club then.”

“That’s a very good thing,” you moan and then pull him in to kiss again. The audience behind you erupts into cheers, celebrating the accomplishments of every student in that crowd.

You’re a lawyer, and suddenly, the future doesn’t seem so scary.

Joel

Taking you home to Austin that night unfortunately wasn’t an option. After finding Jamie in the crowd, and being formally introduced to Ronan, he called the car to pick up the three of you. You all met Tommy at the restaurant, celebrating with all the expensive homemade pasta and overpriced wine that you wanted; even though seeing you in that curve-hugging velvet dress was slowly killing him. Joel had kept at least one hand on you since seeing you again, and he doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon.

He didn’t want to rush you on your big night, so he waited patiently, listening to you tell stories of your last three years, and revelling in the evident joy that you and Jamie share over being together again. When dessert comes around he catches Tommy’s attention and gives him a small smile. It’s fitting that the two brothers, who have been so close their entire lives, would fall in love with best friends.

Once in his room, he spent two hours stripping you down at an almost painfully slow pace. He kissed every inch of your skin twice over and has pulled five orgasms, and counting, out of you so far.

Now, Joel is seated in the wide velvet arm chair in the corner of his hotel suite. His cock is buried deep inside of your tight cunt as you straddle him. Your skin feels like butter under his hands as he trails them along your back and the globes of your perfect ass. He’s missed tying you up, but this is what he longed for: the earth shattering intimacy he feels with you in these moments.

“Please,” you mumble into his neck, desperate to move your hips.

“Not until you answer me,” he demands softly. “How many times was it that you needed me, but were too stubborn to reach out?”

Earlier tonight you told him about the six times you really needed him. He’d kissed you softly after each confession, returning the trust with a time he needed you. After the last one, he’d pulled back to look at you with dark eyes. He’d hated that you needed him and he couldn’t be there. He’d clenched his back molars twice before he said you’d be denied six orgasms the next time you were at the club, but tonight you have permission to come as often as you need to.

He swats your already reddened ass cheek and your pussy flutters as you cry out. “Mister Miller, stop. Please, just let me move.”

“Do you need to use your safeword?”

“No,” you respond with a pout.

“How many times?” He says again through gritted teeth, even though already knows the answer.

“Six,” you sob.

He tuts and then growls, “That doesn’t sound like my good girl, does it?”

You shake your head against his throat and moan a sound of disagreement.

“Do you want to come for me again?”

“Yes, Mister Miller. Please!”

He trails his fingers up and down your back again, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin makes it easy for him to caress you. He smiles to himself at the shiver that racks through your body at his touch. You react so beautifully to him. “Yeah? You wanna grind your swollen little clit on my piercing, baby girl?”

“Please,” you whine again, stretching out all the vowels in the word.

“Show me. Ride my cock, take what you need.”

You lift your head from the crook in his neck and pull back slightly, rocking your hips back and forth; a sultry laugh leaves his lips at your eagerness. You look at him with hooded eyes, hair stuck to your forehead. His eyes trail down your neck to the bruises he sucked into your collar bone earlier and then to your breasts; both of which are covered in his marks. He watches the little gold nipple clamps, and the chain that connects them, bounce with each flick of your hips.

“That’s it, sweet girl. You look like a goddess, my goddess. Who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours, baby,” you say through shallow breaths. He pulls at the chain and you cry out in pain. “S-sorry, Mister Miller.”

“Again, sweet girl. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Oh fuck, y-you, Mist -” his hands come to your face and when he whispers your name the rest of your sentence dies on your tongue.

“Just call me Joel.” The commanding voice of his alter ego is gone as he says it.

Your hips slow, changing from a frantic back and forth to a sensual swirling motion. “I’m yours, Joel. Forever.”

He kisses you softly, a silent telling of how vulnerable he is at this moment. “Don’t ask me to let you go ever again.”

The smile you give him causes his heart to skip, “I won’t.”

“You might, sweet girl. I won't survive it if you do, so I’m going to remind you of this moment as often as possible for the rest of my life. Remind you how much you’re loved and supported. You’re mine, Freckles.” Your hips swirl and he feels you tighten up around him. “Come for me, my sweet girl.”

“Fuck, fuck, Joel!” It’s a cry and moan all at once.

“I’m here, it’s ok, baby.” With that, your body shudders and you fall into him as you shatter. Your pussy clenches and releases rapidly around his length. His cock twitches, and once he can’t hold it anymore he relaxes, letting his orgasm rock through him in time with yours.

“I’m yours, too,” he gasps as he melts into you.

The End

Coming Soon:

Curious how Jamie ended up with her "dads new asshole friend?"

Part 2 of the BDSMaid Trilogy coming mid 2025!

Also, stay tuned for the epilogue for Joel and Sweet Girl.

147 notes · View notes

jar0fhoney · 2 days ago

Text

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 (NSFW) - PART 4 - PART 5 (NSFW) - PART 6 - PART 7 (NSFW) - PART 8 (NSFW)

Content Warning: Description of death, blood, pregnancy

Something was off.

The daily walk home from the shop felt like a marathon, everything just felt so exhausting lately. This earned many concerned glances from Khargaad as the two of you reached the end of the season’s harvest. You spent many a moment slumped on your knees, hands folded in your lap.

“You haven’t seemed yourself lately.” He tilted his canteen to your lips, letting you take a sip of his water. You wiped your brow, “I know, I’m just… so tired all the time.”

“Hmmm...” He stroked the back of your head, ignoring how sweaty and gross you were from working, “Let’s finish up for today, does that sound good?”

You nodded weakly, shouting no protest as he scooped you up in his arms. Before you knew it you were sitting in the grass outside of his tent. You almost fell asleep right there before you heard the lighting of a fire, and sloshing of water from the creek. You opened your eyes, seeing him filling a large washbasin.

Before long steam rose from the surface of the basin and you felt hands pulling at the strings of your tunic. “Let me take care of this.” Khargaad’s voice cooed in that special way that could melt you. He undressed you and led you by your hand to the basin, letting you step in to the deliciously hot water before undressing himself. He settled behind you in the water, pulling you onto his lap.

There was nothing sexual or suggestive about the way his touch landed on your skin. Just tender and caring. He lathered you in soap and massaged your muscles, eventually letting you sink your back into his chest. He rested one hand on your tummy, rubbing therapeutic circles into you.

“Maybe you should take it easier?” He leaned down to kiss your shoulder. You huffed, “I’ll be alright.”

“Okay…” His tone did not sound entirely confident in your statement, but he accepted it nonetheless. That night he walked you home, clothed in his shirt that fit you like a dress. Tucked into bed, you could hear him and your mother chatting outside but their words were undecipherable.

It wasn’t just you that was off now. Every day of the following week you found your mother waking up before you to making breakfast.

“Oh my darling, I don’t want to hear it. Sleep in and get some rest.”

Khargaad now consistently walked you to and from the town square, making sure to come and give you a kiss on the cheek in the mornings before leaving to hunt.

Today, you were clearing out a junk closet in the shop, too busy to hear the door open behind you.

“Now this really is low, y/n.”

You hadn’t heard that voice in ages. Not since Khargaad had scared Milo out of your shop all those weeks ago. You shot up, looking behind you to see Milo with a rather sickened look on his face.

“Surely you haven’t been fucking that orc?”

You clenched your fists, wrapping a tighter grip on the pocket knife you already had in your hand. “Get the fuck out of my shop.”

“Won’t be yours for long. You won’t make it through winter.”

“Guess you’re right because we’ll be long gone by then.” You retorted with a cocky confidence.

“Excuse me?” His eyes narrowed.

Perhaps you should shut your big mouth now. “Nothing.” Your voice wavered unconvincingly. He took a step towards you.

“No, not nothing. You have something planned. You and that mother of yours. Maybe even that big stupid orc, whore.”

You raised the knife threateningly, “Milo, you need to leave now.” You tried your best to put on an air of confidence, but you had quite possibly put all of the plans in jeopardy. Milo lacked the honor and dignity which would stop a regular person from doing a terrible thing in the name of vengeance.

He huffed, turning around to leave. On his way out, he slammed the door with such force that it shattered a pane of glass on the door. You turned your head just slightly, seeing Khargaad standing on the other end of the square. It seemed as if he had just returned from his hunt to catch Milo storming out, and based on his heaving shoulders he was fuming.

It was a tense walk home.

“Are you… angry with me?” You were bewildered by his demeanor. He stopped in his tracks, getting down on one knee to get on your level.

“No. No no no. How… could I be angry with you?” He was so sweet, so calm. You sighed, cupping his cheek, “You’re just so tense, so angry-“

“I’m scared, y/n.” He cut you off. You didn’t like seeing him like this. He was shaking a little bit, “I’m scared of him. Before I met you, we happened to frequent the same taverns every now and then. I’ve heard him say things that frighten me. I don’t think he would hesitate to hurt you or your mother.”

You knew this just as well as he did. Khargaad had brought his hand up to your waist, thumbing over your stomach. It seemed soothing to him.

“We need to develop a plan. Now.” You pulled on him to follow you. The sooner you were out of town the better, and didn’t like the idea of Milo possibly being clued in on that fact.

“Within the next two weeks, at the very least.” Your mother proclaimed at the dining table. Khargaad nodded, crossing his arms satisfiedly. You just sat there dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry. two weeks? Why does it seem like you two had this worked out before we even sat down!”

They were shooting nervous glances at each other.

“Well-“

“You've-“

They had both started at the same time, stumbling over each other’s words. There was something going on. You shot up, pointing two accusatory fingers at them, “Ma! You start first. Then Khargaad. Go.”

The woman stared down at her hands twiddling her thumbs, “Well… what I was going to say was… you sure you’ve been feeling alright lately sweetheart?” You stood there baffled, did they think you were about to be on your deathbed or something? Khargaad breathed out,

“You’ve missed a period.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but as you wracked your brain you realized, by the Gods, the orc was right. You disregarded the fact that he had seemingly been tracking your cycles in secret. A lot of things began making sense as the reality set in.

How daft did you have to be for these two to figure out you were pregnant before your own self. The bottom of your lip quivered as you tried to figure out a rational response to the situation. Maybe… maybe it was just a random fluke in your cycle. Maybe it was something else. This wasn’t a part of the plan. You hadn’t accounted for a baby at all.

A warm hand slipped around yours. Khargaad was staring at you with unbridled adoration, tears running down his face. You were so lost in thought, you hadn’t even noticed your mother leave the room.

“Talk to me.” His voice was shaking, it almost sounded like a plea. As if waiting for you to break your silence on this was his own personal form of torture.

“I- I- What are we going to-“ The words tried to clumsily fall from your lips. You lifted the edge of your tunic, staring down at the bare stomach, and sure enough there was the slight bump that hadn’t eased on its own. It was so subtle that you had been writing it off as merely bloat. But now, you looked down and couldn’t see it any other way.

“Oh my Gods.” You began to cry a confusing mixture of happy and scared tears. Clearly the pull-out method was not entirely dependable. You looked back at your lover, still with tears streaming down his own face.

“When I realized you might be… oh merciful gods I was terrified too.” He laughed weakly, squeezing your hand, “I can’t speak on how you must be feeling right now. But…” He sniffled, “…You’re not alone.”

It started with a low chuckle, then you broke into a full laugh. Khargaad looked at you, bewildered, as if maybe this was the (giant) straw that broke the camels back.

“We need to leave. Not even in two weeks. In one week. In a couple days. I need to close up the shop, we need to pack-“ You were rambling frantically.

“So… so you want to keep it?”

You almost choked on your own words, looking down at Khargaad who was still sitting in his chair. He was afraid to admit how thrilled he was, his worst fear was making you feel pressured by his own feelings. After all, it was your decision in the end.

“Oh Khargaad,” you took his hand and placed it on your stomach, “all I’m thinking is what kinda person they’re gonna be. Will they be an artist? A hunter? An explorer?”

He giggled through his tears, pulling you close to nuzzle his head into your stomach. The dull ends of his tucks grazed over your skin. “Whoever they may be, they will know the overwhelming love of their mother and father.”

This was surreal. You had been so caught up dealing with life, the thought of a baby was completely foreign to you. Yet here you were, being confronted by the idea in the most literal way possible. Then a thought struck you.

“Khargaad, we’re going to your home, right?”

He nodded, still practically purring into your stomach like a cat. “They won’t be… angry that you’re with a human?” He shook his head, “‘Course not, my brother Vakgar’s been with his husband Thierry for six years now. We love that guy.” His voice was muffled into your skin.

You sighed, coming down from the emotional high of this entire situation. “We’ll need a wagon, a big one. Probably one? No, two strong draft horses. And then-“ your mind was already picking up from where it left off, you scrambled for a piece of paper and quill to write it all down.

“Hush my love. Me and your Ma have it handled. Just say the word and we can be packed and ready in three days.”

“Well consider this the word. Let’s go. I… don’t want to stay around and wait for it to start showing.” He knew you were talking about Milo. The last thing you all needed was him finding out about this.

“Yes we agree. Definitely.” Khargaad replied, making his way to the door. “Will you need to go back into town again?” It was clear he wanted the answer to be no, but he would be disappointed unfortunately. “Just one more day.” You responded with a sorry look in your eyes. The two of you came to a compromise, you would do what you needed to do for that day, only if you didn't leave his sight for even on second. And you could only go into town once the lot of you were good and ready to leave. In case you needed to make a run for it.

He marched over to you, pulling you into a long deep kiss.

He pulled away, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a gold chain. Hanging from it was an engraved gold ring.

“I’ve been holding on to this for… uhm. Hehe. I bought it a couple weeks ago. And I thought… I thought had gotten a good fit but then I slipped it on your finger in your sleep and it was like hilariously large and then all of this started and I didn’t want you to think I was only doing this because you’re pregnant. I was always going to-“

You cut him off with a giggle, letting the ring fall into the palm of your hand.

“Yes, I’ll marry you Khargaad.”

The next three days felt like a whirlwind. Khargaad FINALLY had a valid excuse to stop you from lifting heavy things and he was being entirely greedy about it.

“Don’t over-exert yourself love.”

You were carrying a basket of jars, probably not more than 15 pounds. You rolled your eyes playfully, “I can’t just sit around-“

He gently took the basket out of your hands, kissing you atop the head, “Now, this evening we’re gonna be in and out, as fast as possible right?”

You nodded, cradling your stomach. With a dress on it as impossible to notice.

As the sun began to set, Khargaad followed you into town. All you needed to do was put your remaining merchandise outside the door, writing a sign that said “free, please take.” It wasn’t much anyways, you could live without the small amount of coin you were gonna lose.

With the job done, the two of you hurried off. The path back to your cottage was a long dirt road, and eventually he just scooped you into his arms to pick up the pace. As a skilled hunter, Khargaad was very aware as to how vulnerable the two of you were right now.

And then he heard it. A clicking noise, frighteningly similar to the mechanical sound of someone loading a crossbow. Most would have never been able to distinguish the difference between this noise and any other normal forest sound.

He was reacting before you could register the sound of something whizzing through the air. You screamed, feeling yourself falling on your ass in the dirt. Khargaad clenched his shoulder, his dark thick blood beginning to bubble through his fingers. The two of you reeled around, seeing Milo standing in the middle of the path struggling to reload his crossbow.

The following moment which occurred felt like slow motion. Like one of those nightmares where no matter how hard you run, you can’t get your feet to move faster than a snail pace.

Khargaad hadn’t been directly hit, but the thick iron arrow from Milo’s weapon had grazed him leaving a nasty gash in his shoulder. The orc had a frenzied look in his eyes, like he was stuck in some sort of waking paralysis, unable to move his feet.

You looked back at Milo, still struggling and now yelling curses, and back to the serrated bowie knife Khargaad always kept on his waist.

As the classic saying goes: kill or be killed.

There were things you were always going to remember about this night, like the whites of Milo’s eyes as you hurled the knife into his thin sinewy neck, the heat of his blood spurting on your face, the taste of iron when it got into your mouth. His strangled final breaths, understanding leaving his eyes.

You were yanking Khargaad in a jog behind you, seeing the lights of the cottage ahead. The covered wagon was set to go, horses bridled. You thanked the Gods for his foresight to insist on having everything ready like this. Your mother was standing outside, lantern in hand. She nearly fainted when the two of you were close enough for her to register the scene.

“You’re bleeding!”

“He is.” You insisted, climbing into the back, “Ma, you need to take the reigns, we need to go. Now.”

She snapped her senses, clambering onto the front and balling her fists around the leather. If there were two things you could thank your father for, it was teaching your mother how to steer a horse-drawn wagon, and the years of practice you got out of dressing his wounds after bar fights. You pulled Khargaad into the back, drawing the folds closed and hanging the lantern above the two of you. The bottles and supplies in your first aid kit glinted menacingly

“This will be unpleasant, my love. I’m sorry.”

@reads-stuff-quietly @loo-looland @sluttygirl123 @beaniebaneenie @blushycadaver @sunndust @whyiamadegenerate @the-attic-of-porcelain @freakyotaku059-blog @youknowits-derea @thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @allthecraftandthings @gruffle1 @kennedyabraxas123 @queenies1x1 @jellyslimesofficial @jasminedragoon @rangoismyname @the-queen-of-sorrows @the-dumber-scaramouche @heddaloddafun @swimmingrascalbatdragon @hellodollstuff @wingedghostpepper @pistachioinfernal @honeybaegle @sammehshark @dij-ology @forgemotherkestrel @wafflefries786 @sadsilver @shellyyyyy0000 @thecreativeblueberry-blog @lovingbadguys

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majinael · 19 hours ago

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Walking away PT2 (final)

★PT1 here

★Michael Kaiser x Female Reader (Angst, Smut)

★1,9k words

The room buzzed with laughter and music, champagne glasses clinking under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. You stood near the bar, nursing your drink as your eyes swept over the crowd of glittering athletes and dignitaries. You weren’t here for the festivities; this was strictly professional, a networking opportunity to further your already flourishing career.

But then you saw him again. Of course, you had considered this possibility, but you still hadn’t expected him to show up at an event so far from Munich.

But here he was, Michael Kaiser.

The name alone was enough to make your stomach churn. He was the center of attention, as always, surrounded by admirers basking in the light of his golden-haired, sharp-tongued brilliance. He looked sharper than you remembered—older, more refined—but that same cocky smirk danced on his lips as if he owned the room. And maybe he did.

You froze when his eyes met yours. A bittersweet feeling washing over you.

There was no mistaking the flicker of recognition, followed by the telltale gleam of amusement. He excused himself from his circle and began striding toward you. You turned away, pretending to be engrossed in your drink, but it was too late.

“Fancy seeing you here,” his voice drawled, smooth as silk.

You glanced up, your expression cold. “Hah, Michael.”

He tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Still as charming as when you left, I see.”

“What do you want?” you asked bluntly with a sigh, unwilling to play his games.

His grin didn’t falter, but his eyes sharpened. “Just catching up with... an old friend. You look good.”

You bristled at the compliment, hating how his gaze felt like a touch, sliding over you with calculated ease. "I'm not one for small talk, you should know this, and we both know you showing up here again isn’t a coincidence.”

It was true—you had first met him at this exact event a few years ago, when he told you how Noel Noa had practically dragged him there.

“Always so direct.” He chuckled, leaning against the bar. “Alright, fine. I saw you and thought I’d say hello. Is that a crime?”

“Just unnecessary.”

His smirk wavered, just for a second. “Unnecessary? After everything?”

You scoffed, almost choking on your champagne, setting your glass down with a sharp clink. “Oh but you don’t get to bring up the past, Michael. Not here, not ever.”

He straightened, the playful light in his eyes dimming. “You’re still mad.”

“Mad?” You laughed bitterly. “That’s rich coming from you. You’re the one who never tried, who never changed and let me walk away like none of it mattered.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might apologize. Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice low and dangerous. “It mattered. Don’t ever think it didn’t.”

The heat of his words sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to let him see it. “You surely have a funny way of showing it.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race. He was not joking at all. The air between you grew thick, charged with the weight of everything left unsaid.

“Let’s not do this,” you said, your voice trembling despite yourself.

“Too late,” he muttered, grabbing your hand brutally.

The cool night air hit you as he pulled you onto the balcony, shutting the door behind him. The sound of the gala faded into the background, leaving only the silence and the pounding of your heart.

“Michael, let me go—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his grip firm but not exactly painful. “Just stop.”

You glared at him, but the fire in your eyes only seemed to fuel him. “What do you want from me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I don’t know. I just— that night I wanted to text you, apologize and—damn it, I missed you.”

You laughed harshly. “Missed me? Coming from the guy who prioritized his ego over everything else, over the only person that could ever love him so deeply even after everything he had done.”

“I was blind to see,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I know that. But you…” He stepped closer, his hand brushing against your cheek. “I thought you would come back, like you always did.”

“Come back?” Your voice cracked. “Michael, you… you fucking broke me. Even after so many chances, so many times I told you what was wrong, I stayed, because I was so, so stupidly in love with you. But you crossed my breaking point long ago. I'm not your fucking puppy to keep coming back and don’t expect to walk back into my life and think I’ll just forget.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m asking you to let me try again, prove you I've changed.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours.

Your back hit the wall with a dull thud, the soft glow of the city lights casting flickering shadows over Michael’s sharp features. His lips crashed into yours, hungry and unrelenting, like he was trying to devour every ounce of resistance you had left.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you muttered, but the way your hands twisted in his shirt betrayed you.

Michael laughed low in his throat, a sound so infuriatingly smug it made your stomach tighten. “Keep lying to yourself, Liebe,” he rasped against your lips, his voice thick with amusement and desire. “But your body says otherwise.”

Before you could retaliate, his hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. His arousal was evident, pressed hard against you, and the heat pooling in your core made it impossible to ignore the truth—you wanted him just as badly.

“Shut up,” you hissed, grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking him back into a searing kiss.

He grabbed your thighs, and as you wrapped your legs instinctively around his waist, he carried you to a random room. As soon as he locked the door, he set you down on your feet and his hands found the zipper of your dress, tugging it down with the kind of impatient confidence only Michael Kaiser could pull off. The fabric slipped off your shoulders and pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your lace lingerie.

“God... you planned this, didn't you,” he murmured, his hands tracing the curves of your body. His eyes darkened as he took you in, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

“Are you done staring?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm despite the heat building between you.

He smirked, one hand sliding around to cup your ass and pull you closer. “Not even close.”

In one swift motion, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist again. The sensation of his hardness pressing against your center made you gasp, and he took advantage of the sound, his mouth moving to your neck.

“I dreamt about this ever since I saw you in the hall, you're so fucking pretty I just wanted to take you then and there, show everyone that you belong to me.” he muttered, his teeth grazing your skin.

“Still... so f-full of yourself, I see,” you shot back, though your voice was breathless.

His response was a sharp bite that sent a jolt straight to your core. “You love it,” he growled.

You didn’t deny it, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. When you finally pushed it off his shoulders, you let your hands roam over the hard planes of his chest and let your fingers trace the ink of his tattoo, the muscles taut under your touch.

"Still showing off,” you muttered, your nails dragging down his torso just enough to make him hiss.

“And you still like what you see,” he shot back, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk as he carried you to the bed.

He dropped you onto the mattress, standing over you for a moment as if savoring the sight. Then he was on you, his mouth everywhere at once—your neck, your collarbone, the tops of your breasts leaving purple blossoms in his path. His hands were relentless, pulling your bra down to expose you fully.

The groan he let out when his mouth found your nipple sent a fresh wave of heat through you. “Missed this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice almost tender before it hardened again. “Missed how you feel under me.”

“Then stop talking and do something about it,” you challenged, arching into his touch.

His smirk returned, wicked and unrelenting. “As you wish.”

His fingers slipped between your thighs, pressing against the thin fabric of your panties. You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a moan, but he wasn’t having it.

“Let me hear you,” he commanded, his voice low and rough as he pushed the fabric aside and slid his fingers through your slick folds. “You’re already so fucking wet for me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, though your voice cracked as he circled your clit with deliberate pressure.

“Flattery?” He laughed, slipping a finger inside you without warning. The stretch was perfect, the familiar rhythm making you gasp. “No, that’s just the truth.”

His thumb pressed against your clit as he added a second finger, pumping into you with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. The heat coiling in your belly grew unbearable, and you hated how easily he unraveled you.

“You’re still so mine,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

That was enough to snap you out of your haze. “I’m not—”

But he cut you off, pulling his fingers away and sitting back on his heels. You glared at him, frustrated and aching, but he just grinned, licking his fingers with deliberate slowness.

“Taste just as good as I remember,” he said, his voice dark and teasing.

“Stop being a cocky ass and—”

Before you could finish, he unbuckled his belt, the clink of metal sending a thrill through you. He leaned down, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, his hands working quickly to free himself.

When he finally slid into you, the stretch was exquisite, filling you in a way that made your breath catch. He stilled for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he let out a shaky breath.

“Still perfect and tight for me,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent before he started moving.

The pace was relentless, his hips snapping against yours with a force that left you breathless. Every thrust was punctuated by his low groans and the filthy words he whispered in your ear. "Fucking slut."

“Say my name,” he demanded, his teeth grazing your jaw.

“Michael,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you teetered on the edge.

“Who do you belong to?” he growled, his pace quickening.

“Michael K-kaiser..”

Your release hit you like a tidal wave, your body arching into his as he followed close behind, his groan of pleasure sending shivers down your spine.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room your ragged breathing. Then he rolled onto his side, pulling you against him.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you whispered again, more to yourself than to him.

But Michael just smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Keep telling yourself that, Liebe.”

The silence afterward was almost deafening.

You lay tangled together, your breathing ragged as you stared at the ceiling. Kaiser was the first to speak, his voice soft. “This isn’t over.”

You turned to look at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. But you couldn’t let yourself fall again—not yet.

“We’ll see,” you said quietly, slipping out of bed before he could stop you.

As you left the room, his words echoed in your mind.

“This isn’t over.”

But he had your number, and you never blocked him.

#michael kaiser #blue lock #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk kaiser #bllk x reader #female reader #michael kaiser angst #blue lock angst #angst #smut #michael kaiser smut #blue lock smut

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hearts4hughes · 1 day ago

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black - bsf!rafe cameron x fem!reader

(listen to black by pearl jam for the full experience)

warnings: pure yearning and desperate longing ; substance use ; angst angst angst

a/n: can you tell that i love yearning!pathetic!bsf!rafe? because i do and it consumes my thoughts.

he stalked you from across the room, his jaw clenched and his chest burnt with a green flame. every breath came out harsher than the one before.

you stood across the room, your white dress swaying as you moved your hips to the music. your perfectly manicured fingers clasped behind the blonde’s neck as you both danced. he leaned forward, bending over just enough to whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

rafe heard your precious giggles from his spot and he swallowed harshly, looking down at the glass in his hands. he swore he never felt pain like htis— the pain of seeing his best friend, his girl, flirting with some nobody at his party. someone could’ve stabbed him and he would’ve felt less pain than this.

that boy doesn’t deserve you. he doesn’t know how to treat you well, not like rafe does. you’re an empty canvas, an untouched piece of clay, the goddamn essence of pure in every sense of the word— something only rafe can trust himself to protect, everyone else was a potential threat.

his fingers tightened around the glass, the knuckles of his free hand whitening as he fought the urge to crush it. his eyes never left you, though— how could they? you were his center of gravity, the one constant in a world that never stopped spinning. but tonight, you felt farther away than ever.

he couldn’t stop the thoughts that crashed over him like violent waves, each one dragging him further under. did you laugh like that when he cracked a joke? did your eyes light up the same way when it was his arms around you, his voice low in your ear?

you weren’t his. not really. not in the way he wanted, not in the way he craved. that was the problem. he had been a coward for too long, hiding behind the mask of your best friend because it was safe because he thought it was enough. but it wasn’t— not when you looked at someone else the way he wished you’d look at him.

he hated how he noticed everything about you. how you tapped your fingers to the beat of the music when you were lost in thought; how you always tilted your head just slightly when you were teasing him; how your lips curved into the smallest, most beautiful smile when he called you his girl, even if he only said it as a joke. he noticed it all.

god, he wanted to pull you away from the blonde, to grab your wrist, and drag you outside where it was quiet. he wanted to press you against the wall, to tell you how he felt, to confess everything. confess how he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you, how you were his, whether you realized it or not.

but he stayed rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the fear of ruining what you had. what if you didn’t feel the same? how could you love a disaster like him? what if he lost you completely? the thought alone made his stomach churn.

rafe downed the rest of his drink in one bitter gulp, the burn almost distracting him from how his body ached. he stood up suddenly, grabbing the packet of white powder from his back pocket. the very same powder that preoccupied his vicious thoughts for a while. this kept him sane.

but as he went to leave the room, your eyes met his. it was as if time stopped as you both gazed at each other. you gave him a weak smile, almost as if you could sense his pain. he returned the smile, giving you a wink before leaving the room. the second he looked away, his face dropped. he entered an empty room, poured the powder into thin lines, rolled up a $100 bill, and let the substance fill his nose. he wiped away the drop of blood that followed, smiling in contentment as his thoughts were silenced.

and yet, even as the numbness crept in, the ache of you lingered like an unbearable weightt he couldn’t shake. you were his comfort and his torment, the dream he’d never wake from, and the wound that refused to heal. no matter how much he tried to quiet his mind, you were always there, tattooed in black into his every thought, every breath, every broken piece of him. you weren’t his, not really, but god, you would always be the only thing he ever truly wanted.

#nora’s writings 💐#bsf!rafe #bsf!rafe cameron #nora rambles :0 #hearts4hughes #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks

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13-ontheshore-26 · 2 days ago

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ᡣ𐭩 stardew valley ᡣ𐭩you finally make a move on harvey ᡣ𐭩

cw: makeout scene which hopefully is well written, given this being the first time in years I wrote one.

a/n: so this is the first fanfic I've written on tumblr...please be gentle with me ᡣ𐭩 if there are any requests you have, feel free to ask them in the inbox :-P

he isn't used to people interacting with him, let alone flirting with him

so regardless of all of the coffee and pickles you give him...he's going to think it's just your way of being a good friend

so you decide it's only right of you to up the games

it starts with small touches, brushing your hand against his arm as you pass by each other in the hallways

and yes he turns red, but other than that nothing changes! so. it's time to pull out the big moves

"Harve-ey! The farmer's here to see you," Maru calls back to the clinic when you walk in with a jar of pickles and a wave. You flush in response to her call-out and the fact that you're so transparent in your reasons behind the visits. A clatter, almost like metal instruments falling onto a floor, and a flustered hum follows. Maru winks at you and turns her stare back to her computer as Harvey pushes through the double doors to the lobby.

He's flushed, pink where his mustache doesn't obscure his cheeks. The stethoscope around his neck is hanging askew, alongside his tie. He seems startled to see you, as if you haven't been coming in near every day, with a gift or simply to talk between patients. Suddenly, a smile breaks out on his face and he waves quickly at you.

"Farmer! I didn't expect to see you today-" Maru scoffs and both of you cast her a quick glance till she covers it up with a cough.

"So-o, what brings you in today? Did you head back down into the mines? Please tell me you didn't-" Your laughter cuts him off and he turns pinker, though no one thought that was possible.

"I found horseradish in the woods a few days ago. Thought some pickled ones would brighten the workday." You give him a lopsided smile and hold out the jar which you held on top of your head. Harvey's eyes brightened at the sight of it and he reached out to steady it, cradling it in his arms. He looks up, beaming at you.

"This is so nice of you! Thank you!" Harvey looks down at the jar in his arms and you watch his mustache twitch as his smile grows bigger. Then he looks up at you, eyes wide behind the frames of his glasses.

"Oh but-" You tilt your head at him as he pauses and hold back a smile at the way his eyebrows quirk together at your movement. "You've given me so many of these these recent months...I don't want you to lose out on any profit because you're giving them all to me or anything." The feeling of sighing noisily is almost too hard to overcome — how much clearer could you be? At this point, there was only one reason behind foraging: him! You hold it back, however; you know how anxious Harvey gets and you're not trying to risk the tenuous friendship between you both by showing any kind of frustration with him.

Maru has no such qualms though and lets out another noisy scoff, not bothering to hide this one behind coughing when you two both look at her. Instead, she rises up and gathers her laptop, muttering something about going to cross-check some samples in the back. After reaching the door though, she turns and looks at you meaningfully, only moving to the back when you return her look with a grimace.

You refocus back onto Harvey and, taking a breath, reach forward to lay one of your hands on top of his cradling the jar. His breath catches and you feel his eyes locked on the way your hand holds his. You wait until his eyes slide back up to meet yours where you smile at him gently, speaking quietly.

"Harvey. You know that these pickles are only being made for you, right?" You cannot hold back your smile as his eyebrows raise, dislodging his glasses so slightly and making them slide down his nose. You rarely get to see the doctor this dishevelled and really, you're savoring it as best as you can.

"W-what do you mean by that? Oh Yoba, please do not feel obligated to make these all for me, oh dear I feel so bad-" Harvey's rambling is cut off when the hand holding his moves, taking the jar and moving it to rest on the counter. You return your hands to his, holding them in a firm, rough grasp.

"Harvey, honey," The pet name slips out, but you cannot bring yourself to regret it when Harvey, startled, goes red at the sound. "You are not putting me out by letting me make pickles for you. I like making pickles to give you. Harvey, Yoba, I like you." The flush returns to you as your confession holds in the air between you two. However, you cannot bring yourself to be upset by yourself letting it slip as you watch his cheeks turn red and his pupils dilate behind his glasses.

"Oh, I didn't-well I didn't actually think." Harvey's voice cracks while he stands there, tongue-tied, hands slightly trembling after your confession. You smile at him softly, slightly aware of the fact that this might be the softest you've smiled or looked at anyone who was standing in front of you.

"Harvey, honey. It's not something to stress yourself over. I like you, so I do not want to push you into anything-" Your voice is so low, it's easy to hear when Harvey speaks over you.

"No! No, that's not what I meant. I like you, so much. It's why it's just hard to realize that you-" He flushes. "You like me. It's not something that I'm used to you know? It's just...unexpected."

You barely hold back a coo at the way he tries to avoid your eyes, but the way he still squeezes your hands quickly warms all inside you. However, the way that your hands raise to cup his flushed face brings his eyes back to yours, the smile rising across your face is too strong to be hidden.

"Harvey, darling, I could not like you more. And if it takes me saying that constantly to get you to accept it, I'd gladly accept the challenge." The way he tenses in your hold almost makes you nervous, but then you see the way he drops a telling look to your lips. Your smile grows even bigger.

"Now, how about you come over for dinner? I'm not the greatest cook, but there will be wine and my cat would love to meet you."

Harvey nods a little wildly and you cannot help the way your fingers brush against and over his cheek in response. He catches a rogue breath.

You return your gaze from where your fingers graze his cheek to his eyes and see the question in his. You smile slightly and he cannot stop the way his lips fall slightly apart.

Leaning into him, the way he leans in to meet you — it's something you know you will not be forgetting anytime soon.

The second your lips touch, a sigh leaves the two of you. He nearly melts into you and you tighten your grasp on his jaw. The kiss begins almost annoyingly chaste, but when you touch your tongue to the seam of his soft lips, they part immediately. You lick into his mouth the second he lets you in, his mouth sweet enough to have you addicted already. The way he presses against you as one hand travels to hold the back of his head sends any thoughts into a swirl.

Then, a click of one of the clinic's far doors brings the two of you back to earth. You draw back, incredibly reluctantly. The way Harvey chases your lips nearly sends you back to him, but you draw in a heavy, steadying breath and drop your hands to his waist. You lean back to create some space between you two; however, you cannot bring yourself to separate your hands from his waist.

The click of shoes grows closer and you can tell when Maru returns to the lobby of the clinic, between the hush of the opening door and the quick intake of breath once she takes in your positions. She mumbles something and swiftly returns to the back, letting the door thud behind her.

You giggle at Harvey's face, embarrassment taking over his face. The expression is so incredibly endearing you cannot help yourself from leaning in again to press a soft kiss to his lips, slowly pulling back.

The grin you send Harvey, now red-cheeked and red-lipped, is quite satisfied, and the way he rolls his eyes makes you laugh once again.

"So-" You rub your thumbs over his sides. "I'll see you at dinner tonight?"

The smile spreading across his face makes it even harder to stop yourself from leaving the clinic. However, you know if you go back, neither you nor the doctor will get any work done during the day.

It is only the idea of having him all to yourself, in your home, beside you, which makes it slightly easier to leave the town behind you.

divider is @c-heriis

#stardew valley #harvey #sdv harvey #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley bachelors #sdv bachelors #sdv x reader #sdv x farmer #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley x farmer #harvey x reader #harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #stardew valley harvey x reader #stardew valley harvey x farmer #stardew valley farmer #sdv farmer #stardew valley fanfic

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writersblockedx · 2 days ago

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Winters Protection

Pairing - Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Summary - When Alexander Piece's daughter begins to rebel, he assigns The Winter Solider as her personal bodyguard. Warnings - Mentions of violence and death

A/n - I haven't uploaded to tumblr for a long while, but I hope you still enjoy this, I'm likely to make a part two as well! Also happy new year all!

Masterlist

It had become a game. One of which you were known to win far too often. Slipping away from the security detail when they were too busy smoking a cigarette outside, running across the bustling streets of nighttime Brooklyn as you and your friends headed to some niche bar they wouldn't find you. Maybe you had been stupid to think you could continue to get away with it without your father finding out.

It almost should have been expected that night. The early morning sun cast across your rustic, downtown apartment as your intoxicated self stumbled with the key. When you pushed the door open, dark figures stared back at you. Only personalised when you switched at the light and found your father sitting with a class of neat whisky at the breakfast bar. Stood behind him was a broad-shouldered man. One of which you had to assume was another bodyguard. Until your gaze flickered down to the metallic shine of his left arm: The Winter Solider.

Your focus turned to your father first. "Dad?" His name left your tongue with uncertainty as you drew closer into your own home. "What is this?"

He was slow, unusually calm considering the situation. You had been through this enough to know that meant he was truly mad. A part of you wondered if he was about to let his pet loose on you, teach you a lesson you wouldn't forget. "You we're out, all night, no bodyguards, doing god knows what with who knows. I come to learn this is-" He takes a sharp inhale as to calm his furious tone. "This is happening every single weekend. How stupid are you, little girl?"

You kept quiet as he stepped from his seat, downing the rest of the whisky from the expensive glass. "You can't be trusted, do you understand?"

"Look, Dad, I just wanted-"

A harsh throw. Then a clash. Glass flying left, right and center. Your breath caught in your throat before you could even feel the blood dripping from your cheek. But you weren't worried about your torn skin, but rather the thousand-pound glass he had let shatter without a second thought.

"You are in no position to speak back, right now." You kept your lips sealed and your eyes dry despite the tears which fought to escape. "It's become evident to me you have no desire for your own safety. You are naive enough to flaunt around this city in your short little skirts with no concern for our enemies. If you weren't family, you would be dead." Such a phrase echoed across your mind, sure to keep you awake.

"So, now, you have him." He wandered around to where the Winter Solider had yet to move from, his eyes dark and brooding. "24/7, ensure you don't do anything stupid again."

You rushed up, panic in your eyes. 24/7. No more nights that swept into the morning. No more privacy. Nothing. "Please, I'll stop, I'll be more careful. I'll stop ditching the security detail. But I don't need your science project to look after me."

He stared down. For a moment you thought he might throw something else at the wall. Luckily, he wasn't holding onto anything anymore. "It's too late for that." His gaze turned to the man. "Clean it up."

In an instant, the soldier was moving. Gathering the glass in his bare hands from the floor. A hand fell on your bleeding cheek, forcing you to face your father. "I do this because I love you." Though, you found such hard to believe.

A breath of relief fell from your lips which his touch left your skin. Your eyes not moving to the floor as you listened to the door open and then shut, leaving you under the protection of the Winter Solider. It was in that moment, your body gave in. Tears flooded from your eyes, your knees shook and you forced your body onto the sofa. The distant sound of glass in the background not stopping your hands from meeting your face.

You hadn't been sure how long had passed. Only that when you uncovered your face from your hands, the soldier was facing you with a first aid kit. You watched him carefully as he took out a wipe and some stitches. The wipe hit your wound with a sting that lingered. Enough to cause your hand to grip his wrist, forcing him to a stop. "I've got it." You grumbled, taking the supplies for yourself.

He was still silent. A nod of recognition before he continued to clean the floor. You were left to your tears, cleaning the wound and forcing your body through the pain. You had no care for the man, barely such, that you left in your kitchen that night. From the stories you had heard, you should have been more concerned about the monster cleaning up broken glass. Yet, he now served to protect you - as much as it pissed you off.

You somehow found yourself soundly sleeping off the argument, the intoxication and the pain. No worries for the man, no hospitality. You hadn't even wandered where he slept. However, you had questioned whether he did need sleep. The Winter Solider seemed almost robotic. He obeyed orders from the highest command. Even if that meant being stuck in Alexander Pierce's eldest daughter's apartment, ensuring she wasn't going to sneak out.

It confused your senses when you awoke to the smell of food. The distant sound of the cooker crackling. It pulled you out of bed, in nothing but an oversized t-shirt to find the soldier cooking breakfast rather than pulling men in half. "What- erm" You wiped your tired eyes. "What are you doing?"

He didn't even look away when he answered, "Orders."

"And they are?"

He severed up the simple plate of scrambled eggs on toast before turning to you, plate in hand. "Care for you, ensure your safety, whatever means necessary."

With a furrowed brow, you took the plate. You couldn't deny the smell was inviting. "And that includes cooking me breakfast?"

"A night of intoxication. Carbs help." He informed.

Despite your confusion, you sat at the breakfast bar and began eating, trying to ignore the murderer who stood across from you. Only a moment passed before he spoke up, "Where is the bathroom?"

You pointed up, "First door on the left." And you watched, even more confused as the man's back turned to you, disappearing up the stairs. It only took a minute before the sound of the shower could be heard; guess your father wasn't lying about the 24/7 bodyguard.

It had yet to hit you how much your life truly was about to change until later on. As was usual, you were ready to head into town. Not for a bar-hopping trip, or a late-night date, just coffee with a friend. Something simple, something that your father once deemed safe. Yet as you headed for your front door, walking right passed the soldier, he stood. His voice forcing you to look from your phone screen, "Where are you going?"

You had been so close to slipping away. "Out." Your words were followed with a shrug. "I'll not be long."

In between the time of responding to the message and looking back again, the winter solider had acquired a leather jacket and a pair of gloves. "You don't have to come with me. I'm just meeting a friend." You almost laughed at the thought of needing a bodyguard for coffee.

"It's orders." He repeated.

You should have expected this from my dad. "Really? I'll be safe, alright?"

"If you want to request me to not join, you're going to have to call pierc- your father."

You dreaded nothing more in that moment. You knew what his answer would be. Some long, metaphoric lecture, and you'd still be faced with the answer of no. "Fine, just erm-" You looked him over. "Be subtle, please."

He nodded before trailing behind you as you headed out onto the streets of Brooklyn. A few eyes followed you and the brooding man who didn't leave your side, didn't speak, yet seemed like he was awaiting something. Ready to pounce at any sign of danger. He wasn't like any of your past bodyguards. He wasn't scrolling through hinge in the meantime, nor was he yearning for a cigarette. He was here for a job and it seemed as if nothing was going to stop him.

By the time you reached the quaint coffee shop, you spotted your friend already sipping a brewing drink in the window. A smile grazed your lips as you looked back at the soldier. "You're not coming in are you?"

The expression you faced suggested you had no choice, "It's-"

"Order. Yeah, I get it." You finished for the man before a sigh fell from your lips as you pulled at the door. "Just, maybe sit a few tables away from us, please?" You begged and such was responded with nothing but a silent nod.

"Finally!" Called your friend as she stood from the wooden table, her eyes still lingering over the muscular man at your side. "And who is this?" She was seconds away from laying her hands around his biceps.

"New security detail." You answered with nothing but a stern expression.

Her brow raised, "To watch over you while we get coffee and talk shit?" Even she seemed to find it laughable. She was used to joining their nights out with unknown men looking out for you. But this was different, it was a whole lot more intense. And, quite frankly, getting on your nerves.

"Let's just say my dad got tired of me ditching my bodyguards, he's trying to teach me a lesson, it won't last long." Or so you liked to tell yourself. Your head snapped back round to the soldier as you continued, "But he's not going to sit with us." It was as if he needed a reminder.

The soldier stared only at yourself. A stern nod before he wandered towards a distant table, still with a good view of yourself. However, it was good enough for you as you followed your friend towards the spot she had been keeping warm. "He seems...quiet." Your friend put politely.

You looked over your shoulder, already meeting his gaze as if it was glued to your figure. It faulted your smile as you gazed back to your friend, "He's one of my dad's projects." And projects was putting it nicely. You didn't know everything, but you knew enough. The man who was sworn to protect you, was a killer, blood red hands, and a list of victims to follow.

"Not one you can ditch then?" There was a hit of mischief in her eyes. It seemed to have become a tradition that any club nights had to have the thrill of running away. Now, it seemed less as a thrill and more of a danger.

"No, not really." You answered with a sigh to her disappointment.

And so as the conversation swiftly returned to the mundane gossip, you couldn't help but feel the need to look over your shoulder. You thought with the presence of a bodyguard that need would dissipate. Instead, you couldn't help but worry about what your new bodyguard was truly capable of. And how much you were going to see while he was assigned to your safety.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #the winter solider #the winter solider x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu fanfic #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic #x reader #fanfic #imagine

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district4loading · 2 days ago

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What’s ur take on how sana would assure her partner that there’s nothing going on between her and dex 🤣🤣

Just imagine it

Your famous girlfriend does an interview with a guy that she's told you not to worry about. She came to you about it maybe a few weeks ago saying that the same guy that named her as his ideal type—whatever the fuck that means—has invited her to be on his show.

Of course, you expected her to politely decline but when she flashed you those eyes and touched your hand, you could tell she wanted to. At first it was a hard no, or rather "Hell no" in your words. It's not like you didn't trust her, you were just uncomfortable with all the ideas that people might get. When you voiced your concerns about everything she promised that there wouldn't be any room for any of that because it'd be strictly professional.

She promised.

So imagine your surprise when you sit down to watch the interview—because of course you want to support your girlfriend's solo schedule—and she's flirting with him the whole time.

At first it shocked you, the giggling, the blushing, and especially the way she was looking at him. You could already see the comments "They would make a great couple" "Sana and Dex dating soon?" "They definitely went on a date after this" "They have good chemistry"

The fucking rumors.

It honestly made your stomach turn. You stopped watching around the halfway mark because by that time you'd seen enough.

You sat there for a few seconds, contemplating your next move. Should you call her? Should you yell at her? Should you punish her? Shit you felt like doing all three.

It's a sort of betrayal mixed with jealousy you felt burning and spreading rapidly like a fire in your chest that has you a bit restless. She's working right now and apparently her schedule is intense today so she won't be back until maybe midnight.

That meant you had time to think things over and how to approach this, how to confront her about it and tell her how you feel in a healthy and productive way. Rather than immediately start accusing her of things.

Yeah right

The moment Sana entered your shared apartment, she could feel the energy. She brushes it off though because she's tired and the only thing on her mind is a long, hot shower.

She puts her bag down on the counter and smiles big when she sees you "Hey, babe. What are you doing up?" She asks, initially assuming that you'd be sleeping because you had work in the morning.

You only lean forwards and rest your hands on the counter, not even bothering to turn and look at her before you mutter "Couldn't sleep."

That's when Sana begins to suspect that somethings up but she doesn't say anything, she only hums "Why not?" stepping closer so that she's behind you, then she snakes her small arms around your abdomen and presses the side of her face into your back.

Like an idiot, you almost forget that you're supposed to be mad at her right now because the feeling of her holding you is almost too comforting. But you quickly remembered what she did. So with a sigh, you grab her hand and gently nudge it off of you so you can step away from her. You're finally looking in her eyes and she has this surprised look on her face, like she’s got no clue why you’re upset with her.

"Your interview came out today"

It takes a moment for Sana to realize what you're talking about and when it hits her, it’s so obvious because she breaks eye contact with you and looks away "Oh really? Which interview?" She turns away from you and opens the cabinet.

Whenever Sana's nervous she tries to occupy herself so she doesn't have to make eye contact. After being with her for so long, you've picked up on that small habit of hers. "The one with that Dex guy"

Your jaw clenches at the mention of him and Sana pulls out a small glass cup. She doesn't say anything to you, she only walks over to the fridge but before she can open it you put your hand on the handle. "What happened to keeping things professional?"

You're looking directly at her, beginning to get frustrated because she won’t even attempt to meet your eyes. "I- look" She pauses, then you grab the cup out of her hand and put it on the counter.

"I had to sit there and watch you flirt with him Sana!" You raise your voice unintentionally and it makes her flinch a little. For some reason, that makes you feel bad.

"Listen baby, I know what I promised. I'm sorry but my manager told me that I had to flirt with him to make it interesting" Sana finally builds the courage to look into your eyes and the hurt in them almost breaks her heart. She reaches out to grab your hand, and holds it a bit tightly so you can't pull it away "I promise, that's all it was"

"I don't know... you were blushing and fucking giggling at the guy! Acting like you're some high school girl with a crush"

Sana lets go of your hand "What are you trying to say?"

"Did you see him after the interview was over?"

Maybe it's crossing the line just a little bit to ask Sana if she's cheating on you with him, however you let the comments get to your head. It made you feel insecure and jealous like some toxic teenager and you hated how you couldn't control yourself.

"What? No! Of course I didn't!"

Sana blinks, looking a bit shocked that you'd even ask her a question like that but you're still not convinced. "Are you in contact with him? Did you exchange numbers?"

She bites her lip nervously "Yes" She continues quickly to explain herself "It's really only for professional purposes though! I exchange numbers with everyone, you know this"

You step backwards, noticing how fast your heart’s beating at this point. "Give me your phone" You put your hand out and Sana looks at you like you've lost your mind.

It's something you've never asked her to do before. Trust was something so present in your relationship that you didn't feel the need to. But now there's something inside of you that needs more reassurance, something substantial like proof.

So you keep your hand out as you wait for the dumbfounded girl in front of you to come to her senses. She does eventually and quietly reaches in the back pockets of her jeans to pull out the phone.

Sana unlocks it then hands it to you "So you really don't trust me?" She crosses her arms almost like she's upset. You see it in the corner of your eye and you hear the bitter tone in her voice but you ignore it as you go through her phone.

Everything looks okay, you see her messages with Dex and they're completely professional, nothing incriminating at all. So you look up at Sana, who's been staring you down the whole time and you hand her phone back. "See? You have nothing to worry about"

She steps closer to you with a small smile on her face and now you're the one trying to avoid eye contact. Only because you feel like a fool for letting your jealously get so bad that you invaded her privacy like that. Whether or not she was willing to give you her phone, it still wasn't right.

Sana reaches her hand up to cup your cheek, then she makes you look at her "Hey" She whispers "Are we good?" She doesn't wait for your answer, she pulls you in for a warm embrace.

You nod your head "Yeah, but you still should've told me. That way I wouldn't have had to watch it and read all those comments"

"I'm sorry baby, I meant to give you a heads up but it slipped my mind" She mumbles into your chest as you run your fingers through her hair "You forgive me?" She asks, lifting her head to look at you.

"Yeah" You can help but smile when she gives you those puppy dog eyes "I forgive you"

"Good" She breathes in a bit then sighs "I hope you know that you're the only one for me, I don't have eyes for anyone else"

You smile a bit at her words cause they give you butterflies but you play it cool "Yeah, I know... Sorry I got so jealous"

Sana gets on her tippy toes and kisses your lips "Don't be ridiculous, you're kinda hot when you get like this" Sana lets you out of her grip and she begins to walk off and you shamelessly watch her. Then she stops and looks back at you "Maybe you can join me in the shower?"

You don't miss the way she winks before she continues to walk towards your bedroom. Immediately putting everything behind you, you follow closely behind her, knowing that you were in for a good night.

A/N: Haha this is a funny one!!! I really do wonder if Sana was dating someone when she did that interview with Dex and how that conversation went.

Either way, I hope you all enjoyed this one. I haven't been working on fics lately because writers block is crazy but I'll try to work on my next fic tomorrow.

#twice #kpop gg #anon ask #sana twice #twice sana #minatozaki sana #kpop idol #fluff #angst

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mikailys · 3 days ago

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A little draft-headcanon-scenario that's been buzzing in my head after reading Jason's message. I'm sorry for any possible grammar errors or if the flow feels weird—I’m not much of a writer and I wrote this just to put my thoughts into words 'cause his messages inspired me ^^" Note: this is all set after ep 11, I hc him blaming himself for not reading the room and basically thinking it was his fault lol

After she rushed away that evening, the silence in the room felt heavy. He glanced at the half-empty bottle of wine they had opened earlier, both of them joking about how it could be a sign of a future collaboration between them. But now, in hindsight, damn, he wished he had just kept quiet.

Disheartened, he downed the rest of the wine, hoping it would dull his thoughts. It wasn’t long before the alcohol kicked in, making his head throb and his thoughts spiral. What had gone so wrong? Why did she leave? He replayed their conversation, trying to pinpoint where everything had shifted, but all he could feel was the sudden realization of his mistake.

He had messed up. He shouldn’t have brought up work in such an intimate moment. Not that they were doing anything particularly significant, but the domestic, intimate atmosphere felt like a novelty to him—one that made him feel good and that he wanted to possess. He wanted to protect it. Probably, this new sensation, mixed with the strong white wine, had given him the courage to get closer to her, making himself so vulnerable just to touch her. He should have stopped there, not gone further, and he should never have opened his mouth again.

But unfortunately, his pride got the better of him. Praising his company at the expense of Devenementiel came naturally to him; it was something he did daily without even thinking about it. But this time he should have thought it through. By the time he realized his mistake, the woman had already left his complex. Looking out of his window, he saw her—there, running away like a thief in the dark night. He sank heavily onto the couch, glass still in hand. From there on, total darkness.

He reopened his eyes to the midday rays, his head heavy and his black shirt unbuttoned, his tie resting on the back of the couch and his waistcoat completely undone. He had forgotten how terrible it was to sleep on a couch. Dragging himself to the kitchen, he noticed the infamous calamari sitting there on the counter. It was almost as if they were there to remind him of the massive mistake from the night before. He chuckled bitterly, grabbing his phone, searching for that phone number he loved to torment, but this time, it was him who was being tormented. Ah, what a cruel twist of fate.

"I have enough calamari to last me the whole week now..."

#mclng #mcl new gen #mclng jason #jason mendal #mcl jason #jason mendal hc #jason mendal headcanon #amour sucre #cdm #amor doce #dolce flirt

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uptoolateart · 2 days ago

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After months of swearing I wouldn't write this fic until I finished all the other ones...I present to you the first chapter of Catlantis, written as part of the @mlbigbang2024!

Beta-ed by @cardiac-agreste and @wehadabondingmoment, artwork on its way from @i-wiggle-i-squirm-bc-i-am-a-worm, @jademoon2u and @ohwwhuvcreations

Summary:

12,000 years ago, Atlantis sank, taking the black cat miraculous with it - along with the story of how the mighty civilisation fell. But when Marinette discovers that she's switching bodies with the Atlantean prince Adrien, she has a chance to change the past. There's just one problem. She might erase the future. Only one thing is certain - whatever happens, the boy she's fallen in love with is ancient history. * Inspired by the anime Your Name, but it's very much its own story *

Chapter 1 Preview:

Dropping the duvet, Marinette staggered onto her feet. The floor was warm, inlaid with silvery blue tiles so clean and smooth that they reflected the morning sunlight. Steadying herself, she took a single, cautious step across the room. Then another. And another – until she halted at one of the transparent windowpanes. A shriek worked up her throat, and she threw her hand over her mouth to stifle it.

She was surrounded by sky – an aqua colour so blue, it was like looking into the Caribbean Sea. In places, it was smudged with clouds, their edges almost glowing in the morning sunshine. But the glass had been tempered so the light was easy on her eyes.

Dark shapes in the distance snatched her attention. One was an…an airship? The other was some kind of bird. A seagull, maybe. But it was black, with a long toothy beak that looked almost….

Prehistoric.

Her heart thumped hard in her ears. Yet her hands were moving against her will, her fingertips brushing the glass. It felt tough and solid. Emboldened, she leaned in a little, letting her nose touch the glass. In her peripheral vision, she could just about make out another tower. And if she looked down….

My god….

Was that a city? But it – it was so small! It was like looking down from an airplane during ascent. How high up was she? And how had she got here?

More importantly, how did she get out?

Read at AO3

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milawritess · 6 hours ago

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Hybris - Gojo Satoru

Teaser

Word count: 700+

Series mlist

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

He tried not to look too long, as if your beauty was something dangerous. But, you were there, like the sun—a presence that couldn’t be ignored. He saw you in everything, even the spaces you left untouched. It was in the way your laughter lingered long after you were gone, your sweet scent he began to smell on his clothes, and your voice—an echo of a hymn he couldn’t shake. It was in the way you softened the harsh edges of his world, reshaping his deathly reality into something almost beautiful.

You were like fire or perhaps the wind. You didn’t move with the perfection of something perfectly sculptured like a statue crafted of marble. Your grace was raw, powerful, and untamed. You weren’t flawless, but God, you were bright, vibrant, and alive—unpredictable in ways that left him unsteady on his feet.

He told himself he wasn’t falling, yet every glance, every fleeting touch, and soft smile pulled him deeper into your orbit until there were no chances of him escaping your gravity. You’ve undone him, bit by bit, piece by piece. You were like the sun, he realized, and he was Icarus. He felt your pull, felt the warmth of your sunshine on his skin, and yet, he was powerless to resist.

“Y’know…” you look down, eyes fluttering. You reach for his hand hesitantly, your careful fingers sliding across the table, inching closer until they find his. He doesn’t pull away; instead, he remains stoic as he watches you, drinking you in like a glass of champagne. “I used to have a hard time thinking you were even real.”

His smirk—his stupid, insufferable, arrogant smirk. You hated it. You hated it almost just as much as you loved it. “You thought I wasn’t real?” He asks tone light and teasing. “What did you think I was? Your imaginary friend? A dream?”

You laugh softly, and the sound is barely audible. It was quiet, more vulnerable than you had intended. “Yeah… Something like that.”

“Well, I can assure you,” he tells you, turning his hand, palm facing upwards. You slightly flinched at his movement, pulling away as if he burned you, even if the movement was careful and slow. You didn’t want to cross a line with him, always afraid of doing too much too soon, scaring him or perhaps yourself. But you eased, fingers moving closer to his once more when you realized he wasn’t refusing you. You trace the lines of his palm, brushing against the callouses on his skin. “I’m real. Real as real can get.”

Your smile is timid and saccharine. “You were just too much. Too loud, too bright, too you.”

Your touches were simple; soft grazes, hushed whispers against the skin. It's what you liked, what he liked as you treaded new waters. After years of warding off touch, hating just the mere thought of it, this was new for both of you. It was unfamiliar. Intimate in ways that words could never describe. Your shared touches carried a weight that neither of you could ignore—enough to make the soul quiver. He didn’t push or rush you, and you didn’t rush him. He let you come to him on your own time, in your own ways. He has yet to deny you, and he doesn’t think he'll ever have the strength to deny you.

He raises a brow. “Too much? Seems like you were just underprepared for all my greatness.” A moment passes, but you don’t look away. Your smile, soft and delicate, was almost too much to bear.

For a moment, he feels like the old him—the one that could laugh at anything, reckless, untethered, and unburdened by the weight of power or the weight of duty or expectation. You were unshackling him, rendering him down to nothing but a man. Not a god, not a deity, a soldier, or a weapon.

Just a man.

He used to find it insulting how you never tiptoed around him, never shied from his rashness or his cruelty hidden behind dark smiles. Rather, you danced with him—a careful waltz. At first, you stumbled; you moved one way, and he moved the other. There were moments when the music seemed too quiet, and the space between you two became too vast. However, hesitance became harmony; harsh steps became lighter, and your bodies grew closer as they spun, weaving together like threads of a tapestry.

“Well, if you were—a dream, an allusion—you were the best thing I could have ever conjured up.”

“Oh, please keep going. Tell me how great you think I am,” he says boldly, a playful lit in his tone. “I’m all ears, Cherry.”

#milawritess #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #miniseries #hybris #angst #gojo satoru angst #journal entries #coming soon

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beef-brisket · 3 days ago

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Mouthwash

(( @fanofstuff01 , let's goooo- I hope this is a good start 😫))

He never thought waking up would be so painful. But it's to be expected, to suddenly be dragged out of the peace he had yearned for, would obviously be unpleasant. But painful? He hasn't felt physical pain since his time on Earth, so why was he feeling it now?

He should be dead. But he's not.

His eyes slowly came into focus. He hadn't realised he even opened them. He was assaulted by red. It wasn't the usual red either. It was sickly, pale, and uncanny. But he recognised it. He would care if his body wasn't radiating with pain.

He slowly gathered himself and tested the waters by moving his fingers and trying to shift his body.

He eventually made it to his knees, leaning against a piece of rubble. His left arm gripped his chest, his robe soaked in golden and red blood. There should be a wound, but all he felt was risen flesh. A scar. He felt sick even thinking of his body being marked in such a way.

He glared towards the hotel, its lights bright and more alive than before. Everything he and his girls fought for was for nothing. The building was grander and more magnificent.

He felt hatred when his eyes landed on a tower on the side that was shaped like an apple. It was a mockery.

With a groan, Adam forced himself to his feet. He needed to get away from the blasted place, not wanting to see anyone that had any relation to the building or the family that ran it.

His steps were weak and uneasy, the pain turning into more of a throbbing.

Gasping, he fell against a glass window, having made it into the border of Pentagram City. This was the first time he got to look at his reflection.

Adam: ...What the fuck...?

He touched his face, he looked the same, just more well rested, and his completion looked healthy. His eyes were multiple shades of pink, and his stubble was gone.

Pulling open hos robe, he almost weeped at the sight. He was fit and lean. He looked new. Perfect.

So perfect.

He ran a hand down his face. At the same time, Adam could feel himself getting lost in his deep pink eyes. The world around him disappeared, just melted away.

Adam: I'm fucking back... who knew all I needed to do was die. Fucking Sera can stick her diets- ahh~!

Falling against the glass, Adam felt a new kind of pulsing run through him. It was a feeling he was familiar with bug he couldn't understand why he was feeling it now.

His lower stomach cramped and tensed, his nails pushed into the glass. He felt his cock harden and a strange wetness form, coating him.

All decency thrown out of the window, Adam pushed his hand into his boxers. He was relieved to feel his cock, but he what he felt next was completely unexpected.

Two fingers brushed inside of him, into something he recognized.

Adam: I-Is that a fucking... vag?

What broke what was left of his sanity was even more wetness the further his fingers went back. His ass was lubricating itself to.

He felt sick. His stomach cramped, making him cry out. A wash of pink covered his vision, giving Hell a new look, it looked so fuckable.

Sinner: Hey, man. You okay?

Adam moaned as a large hand gripped his shoulder. Looking up, his eyes locked with a large, bull looking sinner.

Adam: F-Fuck me- please, daddy~.

The sinner blinked before smirking. Adam almost screamed as his whole body pulsed with pleasure. He was thrown over the sinners' shoulders and walked a few steps down the street. Turning, Adam noticed that they were I an alley way, and there were two other sinners behind them. One looked like a spider, and the other some kind of hoofed demon.

Bull: Want us to fuck you, baby?

Adam quickly nodded, and as soon as he was dumped onto the ground, he spread his legs.

Spided: Holy shit- and this sluts free? It costs double my paycheck to fuck a whore not even half as pretty as this one.

He blushed beyond happy that these sinners approved of how he looks.

Adam: Can- take all three of you- please~. I need it so badly~.

Deer: Damn right you do, bitch.

Bull: Holy shit- he's got all the fucking parts! I'm taking his ass~.

Spider: I've got his fucking puss!

The goat smirked: Guess I have the mouth~. Keep those teeth away from me baby~.

Adam: Y-Yes daddy~.

Moving to his hands and knees, Adam opened his mouth, waiting for the sinners to enter him. He was getting so desperate that even his robe was making him moan. He's never been so sensitive.

Spider: I'm getting underneath, give you some room, big guy.

Bull: Fuck, that's hot~.

His heart raced as the sinners got into position. The goats thick, long cock rested on his lips. The spider got under Adam, his cocks head already pressed between his folds and the bull was basically vibrating as he spread Adam's cheeks apart.

The bull growled: Haven't even started yet, and this robe is pissing me off.

Adam: Rip it off- please, tear it apart~!

Laughing, the bull grabbed the collar and tore the fabric off Adam's body, bumping it to the floor.

Without any warning, the sinners pushed into Adam, their cocks felt so refreshing inside of him, rubbing and hitting multiple sensitive places inside of him.

He wanted more. He was moaning and crying as his body was rocked by the sinners. He wanted as many dicks inside him as possible.

For a moment, he thought this was a mistake. He was the first man. He shouldn't be built like this. But those thoughts had quickly left his mind. Nearly all logical thought left his mind. All Adam cared about was getting fucked, and having as much cum inside him as possible.

Bull: Fuuuck~! So fucking good~.

Adam was good. Adam was the best they were ever going to get. And he wanted all of Pride to know that to. For them to line up and each take a turning using and filling him. He nearly came from the thought alone.

He was definitely going to need some mouthwash after this.

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